Working in an office has it's pros and cons. The pro being that I feel high and mighty when I look out the window of my office down to the busy streets of Manhattan.

The cons being that the rules here are strict. If they weren't, trust me when I say I would be having a twinky fuckmeat at my leisure, right in the broom closet of my office.

A knock on the door gets my attention. My assistant, Clara, walks in. She's a fine young woman. Blond, in perfectly good shape. Basically every straight guy's dream assistant but not allowed to have, which is precisely why I hired her.

"Blaine, your eleven o'clock is here," she says.

"Do I look like I know what's my eleven o'clock?" I tell her, and she rolls her eyes. She's the only one in this whole firm that isn't afraid of me, well- with the exception of my father.

"The meeting with the Chans regarding their interest level of their investment," she tells me.

"Alright, just give me a few minutes, and I'd love some coffee."

"Again? You just had coffee like an hour ago. Exactly how hungover are you?"

"Just get it, Clara. That is all," I dismiss her.

I am in a rather glum mood today from that small morning spat with Kurt, my best friend. He doesn't understand that all I want to do is to keep him safe- that's all I ever want for him because even though I know he's strong and he can handle himself, every time I look at him it reminds me of how he was in that hospital bed, in a coma for fourteen days because of those assholes.

I won't let anyone hurt him, not when I'm still around.

Clara appears momentarily with that fresh cup of coffee. Heaven. I resign to tell her I indeed have a hangover. She'll nag, trust me when I say.

"Eleven o'clock, getting impatient," she tells me.

"Fine. Where the fuck are they again?"

"Meeting room one- and you're not bringing this in there," she takes the coffee from me. "The Chans hate coffee, remember?"

"I should give a fuck, why?"

"Go, now," she tells me.

"Sometimes I wonder who's the boss between you and me."

"Love you too," she teases.

I roll my eyes as I walk towards that dreadful early morning meeting. I notice people shrinking into their booths as I walk by them. I have that affect on the employees.

"Mister Chan, how are you?" I feign that I'm excited to see him though I'm praying a miracle would happen and I'll be back at the Beef Boy bar last night.

-------

"They still grinding your ass?" Clara ask.

"Yes, and not the good kind of grind," I tell her when I emerge out of the meeting room and am back in my office, my safe place. "Any messages?" I ask, hoping Kurt did leave me one.

"None," she tells, and I feel a tidal wave of disappointment, though I should have expected it. He is always stubborn. "You have a two o'clock meeting to discuss the strategies to expand the business, a conference call with our friends from China at four and your dad wants to see you later at six."

"What does my dad want?" I frown. He never usually calls me into his office.

"Don't know, he didn't say. Just told me to let you know he's expecting you."

"Why doesn't this sound good," I say worriedly.

"It's probably nothing-"

I glance at her, with a you-should-know-better look and she resigns from her speech.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah," she says. She smiles before she leaves me in peace.

I settle down in my revolving chair I so aptly name Throne, because it is. When I sit here and look out the glass panel, I do feel like a king, and I can rightfully feel so. I've worked damn hard enough.

Early graduation from MIT was the highlight of my life. I don't think I've ever felt prouder of myself on that day, though my parents couldn't make it to the graduation ceremony because Cooper's baby girl was born on the same day, I was glad the only person I truly care about was in the audience- Kurt.

He is my whole world, basically. He's been there for me through thick and thin, through all my insecurities pertaining my family, when I made the decision to come out to my parents- all of it. He's been my rock since, ever.

I sigh and know that if I don't pick up that damn cell phone and call him, we'll probably not talk for like days, because that's how stubborn he is. He hates feeling defeated.

"Hey," Kurt beams and I'm glad it's not a hostile tone.

"You're not mad at me thank god!"

"I was, but I'm not anymore because now I'm happy and am on cloud nine," he says.

"I have a sneaky suspicion it's your hot lecturer?"

I sense his smile before he speaks. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Are you just going to be an incoherent thirteen year old girl or are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Okay, so after class, he calls my name and tells me he wants to see me. So I wait until everyone leaves and go up to see him and I thought- well I don't know what I thought- but it turns out he wanted to tell me that I should focus in class because my test was, well it was that. So I was about to leave feeling all crappy and disappointed but then he pulls me back and kisses me so hard I thought I was gonna come!"

"My, my, Kurt Hummel, aren't you a dirty little minx," I tease and I hear him snort. "I'm assuming there's more after the kiss? Did you rattle some closed drawers on his desk or-"

"No, Blaine," he exasperates. "After he kissed me, he told me I looked good today and then he pops the question!"

"He fucking proposed?" I ask, though I know it's stupid.

"Fuck off," he scoffs. "No, he asked me out on an official date! A date, Blaine!"

He's adorable on the phone, all excited like it's his first date. I can't help my grin when he squeals deafeningly I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

"God- you really are personifying teen girl right now."

"I'm sorry but I'm excited okay! I haven't been on a date since forever and- oh my god I haven't been on a date forever. What if it sucks. Oh my god what if I'm going to suck-"

"Well then it'll probably be a successful date on his part because he got head," I cannot help myself.

"Blaine! Oh my god I'm serious! What if he'll find me boring I don't even know how to be like on a date-"

"Kurt, you're not boring, stop. You went out with him last night, right? And it was good, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing. Just be your normal, charming self like you were last night and I guarantee he'll be in your bed by ten."

"I'm surprise you're not against this," he says abruptly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, earlier today you were telling me to be careful and shit and now you're telling me to be charming to get him in my bed? Sounds like a bad intention to have, if you ask me," he says.

"Well, Kurt you know I just want you safe, but if you like this guy I can't stop you-"

"God Blaine you sound so much like my dad," he says and I chuckle.

"Shut up. Have fun on your date, alright? Call me- for anything and tell me how it goes," I tell say.

"Yes, daddy."

"Is it weird that that turned me on?"

"Bye," the phone line goes dead.

I grin to myself, glad we're okay but I have an unsettling, nagging worry in my stomach. Kurt hasn't been on a date for awhile, nor has he gotten laid in awhile- though I try every night to get him out and meet some potential one night stands, he never agrees to it.

This guy better treat him right.

--------

"Blaine?" Clara taps on my door as she opens it. "Your dad wants to see you now."

I look at the time and it's ten minutes past six. I'm pretty eager to find out what he wants from me exactly.

"Thanks Clar. You can leave now by the way," I tell her since practically everyone has left the office too.

Dad's office is on the highest floor, the 90th, naturally because he always wants his title to resonate his office. The elevator takes me up to his floor and I punch in a key number before the doors slide open to reveal his office.

It's huge, with an eagle's view of Manhattan.

"Dad?" I greet. He's sitting on his own Throne and looks up when I call him.

"Blaine, there you are. Sit down would you? I have some things to talk to you about."

"Sure, why not," I shrug, taking a peasant seat across his desk.

"Blaine, I want to start off by saying that you've been doing a magnificent job here. Not that I had doubts, you are my son afterall. Being a leader is naturally in your veins. You've always done a fine job keeping your- lifestyle- private so as to not tarnish the reputation of the company. And though you have been managing this company well as Vice President, I do believe there's always room for progress, do you agree?"

"I guess," I feel nervous because he has that look in his eyes. I can't describe it, but whenever he has that look I know he's going to throw a curveball at me.

"Which is why I wanted to inform you personally of the decision I've made quite recently, actually."

I hold my breath for whatever there is to come- God knows I have to.
--------

The bourbon slides down my throat and I know it's going to be a good night. After that little meeting with dad, I need all the alcoholic beverages in the world to keep my irritation on a ground level.

I scan the crowd tonight, and the choices do not remotely interest me. Nothing I haven't had before- there's a twink boy with blond hair basically throwing himself to every guy- easy. I'm not up for a challenge tonight, not that there's ever any real challenge any night.

With one last gulp, I settle the glass on the counter and slide off the seat.

Game time.

The blond twink looks at me and a salacious gleam crosses his face.

"Wanna get out of here?" I ask him disinterestedly.

"Totally," he says, with such excitement in his eyes I suppress a laughter.

I feel a tad pity for this twink. He is all excited, probably will be telling his twink coven later than he went home with someone- for once. Little does he realize he's just my meat for tonight.

We arrive back at Penny- my baby. She really is like a baby though- I have to care for her, change her and most of all, she cost a fortune.

The twink is muttering something- something incoherent. I couldn't care less. Like I said, my meat for tonight. I need something, or someone, to get my mind off that meeting with dad earlier. This twink will have to do. Besides, I can't deny his tight ass looks so good through those short shorts.

"Want a drink?" I ask, because despite being my trick of the night, I am still a gentleman.

"Sure, a Shirley temple with extra cherries. Oh and an umbrella," he says and I roll my eyes. I'll make him moan so hard later.

Glanda has restocked my bar and I'm grateful for her. Honestly if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't even have water in the general jug. I hand the blond his drink and he takes it gingerly.

"Nice place by the way," he tells and I suppress the urge to tell him 'I would hope so. I paid enough for it.' But I suffice with a smile that I know stopped his heart rate.

He sips and I cannot contain the erection in my pants anymore. God I want to be buried in his tight ass and forget the shit news my father placed on my shoulder. I down my second bourbon and pull him to me. He sets his glass down and goes for my lips but I push him away.

I like fucking, not kissing.

He's momentarily perplexed but when I tug his shorts, exposing his ass and run my finger across his perky crack, he moans and closes his eyes. Finally, no talking.

I trace that young line, upwards and downwards. His erection builds and I feel it pressing against my own. He's clutching on my forearm and I know if I don't stop he's going to blow. Twinks are so sensitive it's fun to play.

I grab the hem of his mesh tank top and yank it off his slim figure. He looks at me confidently, because he knows he looks good. My finger runs up his lean stomach and his clutch tightens, and his ass clenches too.

"Take your clothes off," he tells me and he undoes my first button hastily.

"Not here," I tell him because I am not going to let some stranger spill his cum all over my Paris imported rug. He follows me up the second landing into my bedroom.

I strip as I enter, leaving my clothes on the ground, my underwear still intact. The blond twink stands there with his crotch still hidden behind his shorts.

I really just want to bury myself in an ass already, so I go over to the twink and push him down on his knees so he's upon me, his breath warm on the material of my boxers. He knows what he's suppose to do. He hooks his fingers on my waistband and tugs the CK brief boxers down and my member springs to life.

His eyes widen- a normality in all my tricks. I know he's impressed at my member, and I won't lie- I am too.

Slowly, he puts his lips around my erection and moves forward, bringing it into his month, out again, and in again. I sigh because damn, he doesn't know how to suck. Twinks are good for their tight holes, but when it comes to experience they're far fetched.

"Pucker your lips," I tell him and his lips tighten around my member. I grasp on his hair and push him forward, his lips tight on my member. My cock touches the back of his throat and I can feel him gagging. Now that's more like it.

There's really no feeling that compares to a blowjob. The warm, fuzzy stomach feeling, the lightness in your head and that tickle in your groin that erects you further. This twink might be a talker, but hell does he have a fuckable mouth. I pull him up by his shoulders because if I don't, I'll come in his mouth.

I yank those shorts down and his fresh, uncut erection sprints out. He tries to lean forward but I push him down on my mattress instead. He falls flat on his stomach, that perky ass to me.

I climb behind him and grind myself on his crack, precum already spilling. He feels the moisture and moans like the slut I know he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you up so get ready," I whisper and feel him tense under me.

The condoms are convenient in the draw of my nightstand. I rip it out quickly and roll it over my member. Protection first- I was taught well enough. Spreading a little lube over the crown of my king, I press my erection on his ring muscle. Fuck, he's tight.

He moans as I thrust deeper into him, burying myself into his young glory and soon I'm deep inside and he's clutching on my duvet for dear life. The feeling is incomparable, indescribable- it's like eating a cotton candy when you're high.

I pull out and he screams in ecstasy, as do I, but this is taking too long. I trust forward and he moans louder. The pace quickens as I follow an increasing pace of inward and outward motion. He's practically a rag doll beneath me as I fuck him.

Soon I am lost. A formality. Lost in a sensual galaxy where there is nothing but pleasure and all my worries and insecurities are gone and all I feel is the pleasure building up inside me.

The slapping sound as my tight meet his cheeks is loud as I pound harder and harder, and harder into this twink. He's moaning a hell lot of obscenities, a prayer comes every now and then.

The familiar warmth fills the pit of my stomach and I know I'm building, climbing and I release, screaming hard at the pleasure, at the nothingness in my thoughts as I ride out my orgasm. The climax is always the best, it's when I forget it all.

I breathe hard onto that lean back as he pants from my pounding. I flip him around abruptly and he yelps as he lands on his back. My fingers coil around his erection and I pump hard. He squirms and moans again and then he releases all over his stomach, his chest and all over my hand. I pump even after his release and he squirms harder from the sensation.

He looks down and grins at me. "God- that was mind blowing," he says and I have the urge to shrug nonchalantly.

"Bathroom is that way," I tell him because it's time to go, little fellow. He looks slightly stunned but gets up and goes into the bathroom.

I pull the condom off my soft member now and toss it into the bin. It's a score. The thoughts are back again, my thoughts. My dejected, low self worth thoughts come flooding back and I light up a fag.

I hate these thoughts. They're unnecessary but I hear them anyway. I know that my parents still don't think I'm worthy of the Anderson name, though I've worked my ass off to prove to them I am. It's unsettling as I take a long drag of my cigarette.

My phone rings then and I take the opportunity to check the time. It's a little past ten, and Kurt is calling.

"Hey," I greet and he squeals so loud I get momentarily annoyed. "What?" I say in hostile.

"My date- was perfect. Perfect! Perfect Blaine, perfect!"

He squeals deafeningly again but I grin, because he's happy. It's always a glad pleasure to know he's happy. I can sense his huge grin. The blond twink emerges out from my bathroom and he can read my eyes. He goes to his clothes and starts getting dressed.

"He took me to this Italian restaurant, Pallegrino's, and he just- we talked for the longest time. He's just- he's so sweet and interesting and so rounded with art-" Kurt tells.

"Did you get to second base at least?"

"Don't ruin this for me, okay?" He says sternly. "I like him."

"Alright, alright relax," I calm him. The blond twink is dressed and looking unsure of himself. "You know the exit, right?" I ask and he's stunned. He turns on his heel and leaves- did he expect us to bake cookies and drink milk together?

"Was that trick of the night?" Kurt ask through the phone.

"Yes," I tell him casually. "Tell me about your date."

He sighs and continues on telling me how this lecturer of his explained to him what's so profound about ballet, the self expression, the precision. Honestly, I couldn't give two craps even if I wanted to but he's telling me this in such enthusiasm I can't bare to crush him- I would never.

"Sounds like a pretty good date," I tell him.

"It was! Perfect, perfect first official date. And no, there was no sex. He just kissed me before he left."

"Did he take a celibacy pledge or..?"

"Ha ha, funny. How was your night?" he asks me.

I sigh, and resign from telling him about the meeting with dad earlier. He shouldn't be worrying about me right now. "It was fine," I say briefly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I assure him quickly.

"Tell me," he urges. Why does he always know when something is wrong?

"It's nothing, Kurt," I try to say but he interrupts me.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong I'm taking a cab to your place right now."

I sigh, because I know he would do that. He actually did once when I didn't want to tell him about how my mum forgot my birthday last year. He came with cupcakes and a hug.

"Just- nothing just a rough day at work-"

"So help me God Blaine Anderson if you don't tell me exactly what's wrong I'll burn Penny down."

"Why do you always resort to threatening my apartment?" I say, amused.

"Because I know it's your baby, baby, and I play dirty. Now tell me or I'm going down there with kerosene and a lighted match."

He's impossibly persistent, one of the reasons why I love him. He'll always drag out whatever that is that is bothering me even if I resist so hard to tell him.

"My dad wants to make Cooper Co- Vice President because he said, and I quote, 'want the Anderson man to be running the company.' And that I'm not enough," I tell tiredly.

"What?" He says in disbelief. "That is ridiculous you've been doing a hell of a great job. Didn't you just secure that eighteen million dollar deal?"

"I did," I shrug

"So then what the hell does he mean that you're not enough. Does Cooper even know the ropes of the company? He's a lawyer."

"My dad seems to think so. Cooper starts tomorrow-"

"He already hired him? That's ridiculous and so unfair to you!"

"Tell me one time he has ever been fair to me."

"Fair point, but this is nonsense. You love your job. You're good at your job. Besides, Cooper knows nothing of the banking industry."

"Whatever, really. I just feel annoyed that I'll be working along side Cooper."

"Maybe it'll be okay? I doubt cooper can do what you do. He's been a lawyer all his life- and since when did Cooper become interested in running the family business?"

"I don't know I haven't spoken to Cooper," I say dejectedly.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? I mean maybe this is your time to shine? Show your dad that you're better than Cooper."

"You know he'll never see me that way- better than Cooper is a foreign concept to him when he thinks of me, I bet."

"I'm sorry, Blainers. It's stupid that he hired Cooper but just keep doing what you're doing, okay? Show him you're better, this is the chance because for the first time you and Cooper are in the same league, with the same title. Show your dad that you're better than him, I know you can."

His constant, gleaming faith in me is often overwhelming. Nobody ever makes me feel more worthy than Kurt. "Thanks, I'll try."

"You'll do it, and you'll succeed like you do with everything else."

"Thanks baby," I grin.

"I'll call you tomorrow? I wanna wash up and head to dreamland where that perfect date continues on at the Eiffel Tower."

"Sure Kurt," I laugh. "I have to wash up too. I have a stranger's come all over my hand."

"Don't you always?"

"Shouldn't you have your lecturer's come on your hand by now?"

"Fuck off," he scoffs.

"Love you too."

"Goodnight," he says before the line goes dead.

I throw my phone onto the nightstand and go to the bathroom to wash off the evidence of a pretty good sex.

Maybe Kurt's right. Maybe this is my opportunity to show my dad that I am better than Cooper, in this business anyway. Maybe because we're for once equals, maybe I can show that I can go further than Cooper. Something I've always done but my parents never acknowledges.

I'll do that. I'll show him, because I am not going to let Cooper take this part of me, this single part where I feel like my parents are at least a modicum proud of me. This is my territory, and Cooper will not colonize it.

-------

Wednesday morning and the rain is pouring hard outside. I run through my shower, pick out an outfit that personifies Boss, and am downstairs where Glanda has my favorite breakfast on the counter- cheese sandwich with scrambled eggs on the side and a cup of hazelnut coffee.

"Good morning Mister Anderson," she greets when I descend the stairs.

"Morning Glanda," I tell her.

Glanda is a mother of three. Her kids are all in high school, the best school in New York because I've ensured that. She's a fantastic woman, someone I probably cannot love without. She tried pushing my offer to pay for her children's tuition fees, but I insisted, because she deserves more.

"I will be home late today, so there's no need for dinner," I tell her.

"Can I whip up some beef stew and put it in the fridge in case you get hungry in the middle of the night? You can just heat it up."

"Okay," I tell her.

She's a fantastic cook. Sometimes better than those at restaurants. Very well so, because she went to culinary school in London.

I down the coffee, my breakfast and am out the door were Marcus, my driver, is awaiting at my door.

"Good morning Mister Anderson," he greets as he opens the umbrella and walks me to the car.

I pull out my phone and call Kurt. "Hey," I greet when he answers.

"You just woke me up. Why?"

"Don't you have class?"

"At ten!" he grumbled and I laugh.

"Sorry. Can you do lunch today?"

"Not after you waking me up at seven AM when I clearly thought I could spare a good hour before having to get ready!"

"Please?" I say in a voice that I know he's powerless to.

"I'll let you know. I might be having lunch with Gabe."

"Who's Gabe?" I frown.

"My lecturer. Haven't I told you his name before?"

"Gabe? Gabe does not sound good when you scream in climax."

"Too early for sex jokes. I'll call you later."

He hangs up and I frown. Kurt has never not been able to give me a solid answer when it comes to plans, and he certainly has never put plans he has with other people before mine.

The car pulls up in front of Anderson Baking Co. and I head into the building quickly. It's pouring so hard the hem of my pants are already soaked.

"Morning. Coffee?" Clara asks me when I arrive.

"Please," I tell her because the after effects of Bourbon is starting to pound in my head.

My office, my haven, is awaiting for me. The rain is heavy from my view, the glass panels littered with droplets of rain water. I take a seat on Throne and open up my email. One from my mother. Swell.

From: Eleanor Anderson
Subject: Eleanor Summer Collection
Date: February 3 2013 09:18 EST

Note that Eleanor Summer Collection Show is on February 6 2013.

@ the Art Of Ballet Gallery.

Eleanor Anderson
Head of Office, Elenaor.

I wonder briefly why she has to be so formal on an email to her own son. Secretly I wonder if she's this foray with Cooper, and as it's on cue, the double steel doors of my office burst open.

"Squirm!" Cooper greets, and I glare at him. "How's it going?" he asks as he takes the seat across my desk.

Now that makes me feel professional.

"Hey Coop," I say politely.

"So you heard that dad hired me then?" He isn't containing his joy, which annoys me.

"I did, you're here, aren't you? Congratulations Coop," I say.

"So we're colleagues now, how great. Question, if there are three Mister Anderson here, how will we know when people are calling us?"

I suppress my urge to dismiss him out because he's annoying me, and he's unwelcome at my haven. That smirk on his face- if I could smack it I would.

"The view here's great, though mine is on the eighty eighth floor."

What?

"You got that floor?"

"Yeah, all settled in," he tells.

What the hell! That's the office I told my dad I wanted but he said its reserved. Was this his plan all this time? To move Cooper in. He never approved of Cooper being a lawyer in the first place because he said it strays from the family heir. He always had this planned, hasn't he?

Nobody ever says this aloud, but everyone knows that the closer you are to my dad's floor, the more he favors you. This is fucked.

"Well great then. I actually have a lot to do, Coop. If you wouldn't mind," I gesture to the door.

"Awe, look at my baby bro all professional. Fine, fine, I'll get out of your hair. See you at the ten o'clock meeting, squirm," he runs his knuckles through my head, ruffling my head.

I want to scream at him, tell him this is a place of professionalism. He can't be calling me 'squirm' or ruffle my hair. In here, I'm not his brother. I'm his fucking colleague, but I suppress it.

He never fails to make me feel small.

He always does this, heck this has always been the case growing up in the shadow of Cooper Anderson. We've never been close, mostly because of our age gap, but also because I grew up resenting him because I lived in his shadow for so long, and for once I found my place here in the family company because he wasn't interested, but suddenly now he is? This is shit.

"Catch you later," he tells and I mentally flick him my finger. Asshole.

"Here's you coffee. What's with that face?" Clara asks.

"Can you put up a huge marque outside my door to keep Cooper out?"

"With barriers and gantries?" she says sardonically. "Don't worry, he's not on this floor, which is good."

"Yeah, he's higher."

"Wanna know the gossip in the office?"

"What?" I ask her. Clara always tells me what the employees are talking about. She's like my fly on the wall.

"They're all saying how Cooper got the job because he botched a huge case and he got fired, but I don't know."

"He never told me that," I frown, wondering if it's true.

"Just gossip though. Meeting at ten,"
she wavers as she shimmies out my office.

Was this why Cooper is suddenly here? Because he botched a case? Why though. I hate to admit it but he has always been the best lawyer in my book. I wonder what happened.

-------

After that meeting, I am in rage. Cooper spent more time shutting me down and making me feel tiny the entire time. It's ridiculous how unprofessional he's being.

"Do I wanna know why you're sour?" Clara ask as he enters my office with the latest reports in her hand for me.

"Cooper's as asshole, that's all," I tell her because despite her being my PA, she's also someone I confide in.
Besides Kurt.

"Known fact to the both of us. Should I prepare Marcus or are you skipping lunch?" she ask.

"Can you get Kurt on the phone for me?"

"Will do," she says as she leaves.

The rain shows no sign of receding. Had I known I would've dressed thicker because despite the heater I placed in my office, it's still cold as balls here.

The buzzer on the phone gets my attention where it connects me to Clara. I press the button for her to speak.

"Kurt, line one," she tells.

"Thanks," I click on the number and Kurt talks.

"You must be real busy to get Clara to call me," Kurt says.

"Yeah. Are we still up for lunch?"

"Actually, I'm going out for lunch with Gabe. Can I take a rain check?"

"Since when do you rain check me?"
I frown.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Fine," I say.

"Don't be mad," he says soothingly and I am powerless to that tone.

"I'm not," I assure. "Have fun at your nooner."

"Screw you-"

"Him," I tease.

"Bye Blaine."

I'm slightly annoyed. Kurt never puts me off for lunch. I try not to think too much of it and just suffices with the fact that Kurt really likes this guy and I'll let him swoon for awhile.

"Can you go down to the deli and grab us some steak lunch? I don't feel like going out in this rain," I tell Clara, pressing the buzzer.

"Sure thang," she says.