Kurt had his back to the bar to do inventory before the evening rush got in. It was a Thursday and he remembered that there was a new band set to play. With the live bands they tended to bring in their own crowd. The crowd they brought in was always a test in Malaine’s eyes. If they went with the general aesthetics of the club, the band could find a new home; if they clashed, the band would find themselves back on the boulevard.

He handed the list to the bar bitch (designated runner and cleaner). “Make sure these are handy for us, and you should bring up another case of water.”

“Excuse me.”

Kurt turned and his mouth fell open at the sight. Wow. No one should be allowed to be that gorgeous.

“Can I ask you a question? I’m new here,” a bright smile from the handsome stranger revealed perfect straight white teeth.

Manners Kurt. He put his hand out to the man. “I’m Kurt.”

The man took it eagerly. “Blaine.”

“How can I help you Blaine?” Can I run my fingers through those curls for an hour? That would be a good start.

“I’m with the band playing tonight and I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to leave my things.”

What color are your eyes? They’re like a kaleidoscope of green and brown and amber and wait— “Oh, were you not here for the tour? Malaine is usually good with that sort of thing.”

Blaine actually blushed. “Well um—”

“Come on,” Kurt beamed at him. He pulled on the hand he still held lightly to follow him. “I know a short cut.” Any excuse to hold a cute boy’s hand? I’ll bet he’s got a lovely girlfriend with a gay brother and that’s why he’s so accepting of this. You’re pathetic, Kurt.

A point clearly driven home by the fact that Kurt led him the long way around the club into the staff lounge in the back.

“Here we are sugar,” Kurt smiled at the shorter man and let go of his hand reluctantly.

Blaine did not smile back. “Please, don’t call me sugar. My ex-boyfriend called me sugar and I hated it.”

Bless the Rockstar Baby Jesus. He’s gay! Don’t dance. Kurt chuckled. “I had an ex who insisted on calling me muffin even when I asked him to stop, repeatedly.”

“No muffin. I can remember that,” Blaine winked.

Kurt felt his face heat up so he looked down at Blaine’s empty hands. “So where are your things?”

He didn’t think it possible but Blaine managed to blush even more. “Heh. Well you see, I’m really bad at icebreakers and I just really wanted to talk to you. I didn’t think the whole I’m new to this town can you be my mentor route would really work.” Blaine slapped his hand over his mouth.

“You seem to also have trouble controlling your brain to mouth filter.” Kurt smiled all the more.

“Oh no that’s just part of my charm.”

They fell into a comfortable silence with one another.

Kurt cleared his throat and broke the spell. “I’d better head back to the bar. Those people can’t get drunk by themselves.”

“This place is really different from what I’m used to,” Blaine looked around the staff lounge.

Kurt reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkles on Blaine’s collar. “Next time don’t forget your way new guy. You’ll fit right in.”

Blaine loved music, he loved performing for a crowd, loved being able to just let go on stage. And he was damn good at it too. But that first night at Mystics was one of the hardest nights of his life in every way imaginable; mostly due to one man. Kurt.

He had been living in Los Angeles for the previous nine years and he had thought that he had seen it all. He was wrong. He had never seen a more beautiful man in all his life. The way his hair was perfectly styled in the I-don’t-really-give-a-shit kind of way that must have taken serious time and effort to get just right. He had a heart-melting smile. But those eyes.

What color are they! Blue? Green? Was that yellow in them? How is it fair that one man can be that spectacular?

And his high sweet smooth voice. It’s like silk over glass.

So yes, it made things like performing to the crowd, and making a good impression on the potential new boss, not staring at the man behind the bar, on the other side of the club, difficult. It also made it less than easy to move on the stage after sneaking a look over at said bartender. Especially when Blaine would catch him, looking and smiling, back.

Rein it in Anderson! You’re not some horny sixteen-year-old kid. You’re actually worse! You’re a horny twenty-seven year old man at half-mast over some bartender you just met and know nothing about. And stop winking at him for fuck’s sake!

Blaine found relief from it all in the very receptive crowd. The vibe in the club was palpable.

People who went to Mystics were looking for a good time, to sing along, to dance, to drink and above all to have fun. The sign at the front wasn’t there for decoration. All were welcome to the joyous atmosphere and the number one rule was simple: Don’t be an asshole. It was rare that there was ever a problem and the formidable bouncers strategically placed around the club always managed to restore the peace quickly.

At least that was how it had been explained to Blaine when they had first met with Malaine about the audition. It was to be a two-weekend trail period and depending on how it went; they could be sitting pretty with a regular gig at one of the best bars in Vegas.

Blaine knew he was already in love with the place. After the string of venues he had plowed through in LA filled with the elite and the spoiled this seemingly seedier club should have felt like a huge step backwards. But the truth was that Blaine actually felt more at home in Las Vegas, at Mystics, than he had anywhere else, ever.

Yes maybe he fled from LA because of a bad break-up feeling like less than a human being because of it. And the slim prospect of being the new front man for his old roommate’s cousin’s band had seemed like it could be the answer to all of his problems. But he would have to leave everyone and everything in LA that he knew and start his life all over again from scratch.

It had taken him seventy-two hours to pack up his essentials, sell everything else, hit the northbound I15, and never look back.

There had been an instant connection with his new band mates; almost like a dream they all seemed to mesh. Within the first week Blaine was settled into his new Vegas routine. The band had been working on getting an audition at Mystics for months and after one meeting with Malaine with their new lead singer it was a done deal. That solidified his place with them more than anything else ever could.

As luck would have it an old classmate had set up a small law practice in the city and had six vacant bedrooms for Blaine to choose from.

“Seems slightly superfluous, Wes, to have so much space when you live alone,” Blaine said as he made a production of picking his room.

“Oh hey, you like the thought of having a place to live and a nice little well paying job with very flexible hours?”

Blaine had the good sense to look properly scolded. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Then stop judging my property purchase and pick a room. Preferably the guest quarters downstairs,” Wes continued. “I don’t think either of us want any guests either of us have over for a, shall we say, sleepover, running into each other.”

Blaine feigned offence. “Just what kind of a boy do you take me for Wes? Sleepovers indeed.”

Wes merely rolled his eyes at his friend. “I take you for a boy like any other boy. Now get settled and get dressed. I’m taking you out tonight to get you properly introduced.”

“Introduced to what exactly?”

“Welcome to Sin City Blaine.”

“So a little bird told me,” Blaine grinned into the microphone, “that a Mystics’ favorite singer is one of our own dear bartenders. So I want everyone in here to make some noise and get him or her up here! I have no idea who it is and I have a powerful curiosity.”

Please be Kurt, please be Kurt! Sweet Christ thank you thank you thank you!

Blaine struggled with himself to not leap at the man as he made his way to the stage.

“Requests?” Blaine knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“Don’t I need to know what you can play?” Kurt’s eyebrow shot up.

“Just pick a song barkeep I’m sure we can manage to follow along,” Blaine winked again. Now you’re officially a creeper.

“Fair enough. How about some Muse? Time is Running Out.” Kurt took the microphone from Blaine and sashayed front and center.

Blaine was in awe of Kurt’s singing. He didn’t think the song choice would work well but it did, and the crowd loved every moment of it. It became apparent to Blaine that Kurt knew how to work his audience. And very well at that. As if his voice wasn’t enough to make Blaine drool (he had always been a sucker for a gorgeous man and a throbbing baseline), but watching the lithe bartender strut up and down the stage was a new brand of torture. Kurt insisted on gyrating his hips that were almost begging to be gripped by strong hands, preferably Blaine’s.

How the hell can he move in those pants? To say that they were skintight was an understatement. Form fitting black jeans tucked into knee-high boots. Blaine almost missed the end of the song he was so transfixed.

“Mic’s all yours now.” It was Kurt’s turn to wink at him.

“Okay folks we’ll be taking a break now!” Blaine quickly moved away from the piano. “So enjoy the DJ!”

Must get to the bar. Get to the bar. Need a drink, yes. I’m feeling parched. Go with that.

Blaine managed to find a vacant stool in Kurt’s section and waited to catch his eye. He enjoyed watching the man flit around behind the bar to fill the patron’s orders. He did it all so smoothly; it was almost like a dance.

“Well hello there Blaine,” Kurt stepped up in front of him. “Can I get you something?”

“Beer please,” Blaine managed.

Kurt frowned for a moment. “You didn’t strike me as a beer drinker.”

Blaine laughed. As far as he was concerned beer was like sweet nectar from the Gods. “Well I can’t drink the hard stuff right now.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Blaine repeated. “I’m working, well more auditioning, but still. I need to be professional.”

Kurt shook his head. “Oh Blaine dear you have a lot to learn if you plan on sticking around.” He turned his back to Blaine towards the shelves of liquor and Blaine thought that was the end of the conversation. He watched with wide eyes as Kurt plucked random bottles and began to mix them.

“Now,” Kurt laughed. To Blaine it sounded like angels singing. “Who wants to buy the handsome young bartender and this guy a shot?”

Immediately customers were clamoring to have the honor.

“Well,” Kurt produced two shot glasses filled with a pink liquid and set one in front of Blaine on the bar. “Maybe next round folks. This one is on me.” He raised his shot.

Blaine plucked his from the bar and held it up. “This is a thing? We can do this?”

Kurt tapped his glass against Blaine’s. With a wicked grin he threw back his head and drank the shot down in one gulp. Blaine didn’t hesitate to ogle the sight of the long pale neck wanting nothing more than to kiss and nuzzle Kurt’s bobbing Adam’s apple.

Kurt set the empty glass down hard upside down on the bar and stared questioningly at Blaine. Realizing his faux pas in shot etiquette Blaine was fast in taking his drink. It was smooth and tasted like apples. Blaine suppressed a groan at the thought of Kurt’s mouth tasting like apples at that very moment.

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat as Kurt leaned over the bar and put his mouth beside Blaine’s ear. “You have so much to learn about this place.” He pulled back and standing straight shouted, “Welcome to Vegas!”