“So, what’s good here?” Blaine looked over the menu on the wall, pulling out a glasses case from his hip pocket and sliding on a pair of black-rims, about four years out of fashion and cuter than necessary.

“Everything? Just make sure you end it with a milkshake.”

“It’s a shake shack. It would be sacrilege not to have a milkshake.”

They placed their orders and sat by the window, the vinyl upholstered chairs scuffing the floor and the rickety table wobbling as anything touched it. Blaine looked around at the local pictures hung around the small eating area, spanning as far back in time as the store’s beginning, clear up to present day.

“You in any of these?”

Kurt looked behind where Blaine was sitting and back again, shoving the straw in his mouth as soon as he answered. “Nope.”

Blaine caught the glance and twisted around in his chair, spotting a grouping of pictures that looked to be from a high school. He stood to take a closer look.

“Uh, you don’t want to let your fries get cold.”

“Oh. I’ll be right back.” A smile spread across his face as he got closer. “Hrm…McKinley High…” He leaned into the topmost picture of a show choir where Kurt stood in the middle dressed in a black outfit with a gold bow tie and gold suspenders looking cute as a button. His arms were lazily draped over a pretty blonde girl’s shoulders as she leaned back against him. “What year?”

“My senior year, 2012.”

“Were you guys any good?”

“National Champions. Keep looking, you might recognize someone else…”

Blaine leaned in further and saw him. “Oh! The guy with the mohawk...what’s his name?”

“Lieutenant Noah Puckerman. We call him Puck.”

“Okay. I would have never pegged him as a choir boy. He’s with…Bath Township?”

“Yep. He’s only been in the department about 5 years.”

“We helped with that barn fire out his way on my first day. Good department.”

“They all are around here, really. And might I say, thank you all for not allowing mohawks as a part of the uniform. I hated that rat on his head.”

“Yeah, that’s not…no. You, however, are adorable.” Blaine took his seat and popped a fry in his mouth. “So. Lunch, take two?”

“Dot graciously offered to join us again.”

“Did she? I like her; she’s a pip.”

“I do too. Usually. Sometimes being a pip makes you a pain in the ass.”

“So…” Blaine grabbed one of Kurt’s zucchini strips and dipped it into the ranch dressing, no apology, no permission asked. Just took it. And Kurt, normally very protective of his food, could only look at him incredulously, blushing when Blaine winked at him. “…what brought you to working for disaster response? If I can risk offending…you don’t look the part.”

Kurt lifted an eyebrow and chuffed. “That’s probably because it’s not my real job. I was looking for balance.”

“No? So, what’s your real job?”

“I’m a technical designer for Marc Jacobs.”

Blaine’s eyes popped up over the top of his sandwich, trying to quickly get the bite to where he could talk around it. “Aszh in…the deszhigner, Marc Jzacobszh?”

Kurt offered Blaine a napkin and bit back a laugh, motioning to a bright drip of mustard hanging onto the corner of his mouth. “Yes, the designer, Marc Jacobs. Men’s day wear.”

“Okay, that job makes more sense. But, why in the hell are you in Lima Ohio? Something tells me his headquarters aren’t here.”

“They’re in New York. And, my dad’s ill. I came back after Christmas this year to help my step-mom and step-brother.”

“Oh yikes. What’s wrong with him?”

“Heart disease. And now some dementia.”

“Damn, he has to be too young for that. My dad’s only 65.”

Kurt nodded. “58. He arrested when I was in high school and tried to take care of himself, but he’s stubborn, has a sick heart and loves…” Kurt looked at his food choices and sighed, popping another zucchini strip in his mouth, talking around it. “…fried foods.”

“Eh, moderation. We only get one life to enjoy.”

“True. So, I saw how stressed Carole and Finn were over the holidays and I was mentioning it to a supervisor and the next thing I know, they offered me this remote package. I took it and moved back within the week.”

“So, how long do you think you’ll be here?”

“Well…” Kurt twirled a strip into the dressing, not eating as much as playing with his food. “…until he’s gone? And at the moment, he’s taking his sweet time. He’s not dying. He’s just deteriorating very, very slowly. But he’ll never be better than he is today, so I’ll stick it out as long as he needs me.”

“That’s an awfully big sacrifice.”

“I suppose. He’s just getting mean as hell and it was taking a lot out of Carole and Finn. That’s just not him.” Kurt sighed and picked off a bite of his sandwich. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the way things are. He’s my rock and…I never thought I’d see it crumble.”

They sat in silence, Kurt nibbling on his food, trying not to turn into a blubbering idiot in front of this man. This man who, with the simplicity of a kind gaze, was patiently letting him collect himself and then redirect his thoughts once it was clear he was okay. Simple kindness, flirty eyes, curly hair begging to have fingers dancing through it, yeah. He was just about perfect.

“So, what exactly does a technical designer at Marc Jacobs do? In Lima Ohio?”

“Short answer? I take the illustrated designs for each season and through a very involved process, get them into proto-types for runway and buyers.”

“How long does something like that take?”

“Takes about a 12 to 18 months per collection. So, right now I’m finishing up Fall/Winter ’24 and starting Spring/Summer ‘25.”

“This also explains why you’re so well put-together.”

“I wouldn’t say…”

“You wore a designer track suit to a fire, Kurt.”

Kurt appropriately blushed. “That I did. So…let me stretch our judgments on each other a bit further…”

“Wait. Did I just offend you?”

“No.” Kurt felt Blaine’s eyes still searching and he smiled and stole a French fry. “No. I do take pride in how I look. It’s not a secret.”

“It shows. And you were in the process of judging me?”

“I was. Since when does a fireman know a designer anything when he sees it?”

“Ah. Well, I spend too many hours of my day stuffed into a crappy uniform, so I like to dress well when I can. And looking at fashion magazines has always been a guilty pleasure.” Blaine blushed before slurping up the last drops of his pop. “Anyway…you, uh. You make clothes look really good.”

Kurt smiled and sat up straighter. “Well, thank you. I also get really good clothes for next-to-nothing, so…it’s probably more the clothes than the man.”

“Oh…I’d challenge that.” Blaine wadded up his papers and tossed them on the tray. “Now, I’m going to take my city-issued polyester uniformed ass back up there and get us some milkshakes. What’s your flavor?”

“Peach. With a spoon.”

***

Blaine met Kurt outside chuckling to himself as he straddled the picnic bench Kurt was sitting on. “I see why you get a spoon. I think I sucked my face in on itself and I still haven’t tasted anything.”

Kurt laughed and took his milkshake, dipping the spoon in and moaning obnoxiously as he ate. “Chunks. Real ones. Go get a spoon, you fool.”

Blaine nodded and jogged in, coming back out while chewing and smacking at the chunk of peach he’d caught in his first dip. “This is made of heaven.”

“Peaches are heaven, aren’t they?”

“They must be. If not, I’m not going.” Blaine took his spot back, straddling the bench and leaning on the picnic table, trying the straw again and failing while Kurt quietly ate and tried not to laugh. The poor man had already emasculated himself at the fire. There was no need to add milkshake failure to his questionable resume. “So, I still don’t quite get how C-DRT works into you being a…what’d you call it? Technical designer?”

“Yes. And it doesn’t work into it, which is why I do it. The fashion industry is just…” Kurt slurped a spoonful of shake in his mouth, talking around the cold chunkiness of it. “…so fucking self-serving. Self-centered, self-involved, me, me, are you looking at me yet? me. I was turning into a first class bitchy queen and I couldn’t stand myself anymore.”

“So, you started volunteering – that makes sense.”

“All I know is it’s helped since I got here.” Kurt flopped a spoonful upside down onto his tongue and licked it off. “My hours are less in demand as they are in New York. And I remembered all C-DRT did for the tornado victims a few years back in Bluffton. I swore if I ever lived here again or had a chance in New York, I’d pitch in.”

“Oh, so you didn’t do this there?”

“No, but when I go back, I’ll probably look into it. That just seems too far out of reality right now, though.”

Blaine’s questions stopped and it would have been uncomfortable except that Kurt was so enamored with Blaine’s face, his caramel-colored eyes, and the way his lips wrapped around his straw, the chiseled, angular jaw, that the moments seemed to disappear. Until Blaine licked a drop of shake off his lips and looked up into Kurt’s eyes at the same time. Kurt blushed and remembered the concept of getting-to-know-you conversation. “So, what’s your story, fireman?”

Blaine chuffed and stirred his shake with the straw, lifting it and licking it, catching Kurt’s eye again, clearly knowing exactly what he was doing. “Now we enter the cliché portion of our afternoon…”

“Your house burned down as a kid.”

“My house burned down when I was ten.”

“Oh shit.” Kurt smacked his hand over his mouth and stifled a laugh. “Hello. I’m an asshole.”

“You’re fine. I’m pretty over it.”

“Did you lose everything?”

“Mostly. But there was this cool fireman and like I said, I was ten. Add water and you get an instant hero. After that, I never wanted to do anything else. When I was 16, the school posted opportunities to be a volunteer with the department, I hopped on the truck and I’ve never looked back.”

“Ah, so that’s how you got to be Chief so young…”

“Yeah, been doing this for 12 years now.”

“And, did I hear right? You’re from Findley?”

“Yep, born and bred…”

“So, why come down to Lima?”

“There was no chance for advancement there. The chief’s son was always one rank ahead of me and when Daddy retires, he’ll be chief. Which, I was okay with.” Blaine shrugged and slurped up the last of his shake, pouting into his empty cup. “A buddy told me about the opening here and I figured what the hell? I needed a fresh start, this town is similar and I’m still close to family…”

“Well, we’re glad to have you. We need young blood in this county. It’s such a mentally old town.”

“Yeah, it’s still pretty Norman Rockwell.”

“Which isn’t all bad, but if you want to do anything exciting you have to drive into Dayton or Columbus.”

“…I was going to ask you about that. Is Friday night good for you?” Blaine gathered their cups and stood, offering his hand for Kurt to balance and spin out of the picnic bench as he agreed to their date night. “Do you mind – since you know the town better – can you pick a good place to eat?”

“Sure. What are you thinking? Bar food? More formal?” Blaine tossed the cups and they walked to the car hand in hand, leaning against their own vehicles, fingers lazily laced between them.

“I honestly don’t care. I just want to get to know you.”

“You make it too easy.”

“Why complicate things?” Blaine lifted Kurt’s hand to his mouth and kissed two fingers before unlocking his door. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I’ll make Dot stay at home this time.”

“Please do.”

***

“Did you survive without your chaperone?”

“We did, thank you very much. Although, he’s a food stealer.”

“Did you smack him?”

“No, I just watched because his mouth is pretty.” Kurt plopped into the extra chair in Dot’s office and sighed.

“Are you always like this with a new boy?”

“You mean dopey? No. Not since high school.”

“He is pretty. He’s charming and cute and maybe I’m projecting, but somewhere under that station uniform, there has to be a little bit of naughty.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to have this discussion you.”

“You started it!”

“I said his mouth was pretty. Besides, I’ve already considered his potentially naughty side. The more he hides it under blushes, eyebrow wiggles and interesting straw maneuvers, the more I’m convinced you’re right.”

“I knew there was more to you than that pristine exterior.”

“I’m a man of many layers, Dot. Many, many layers.”

“Yeah, and you’d better go easy on them when you dress for your date or he’s never going to get you naked.”

“Okay, new rule. My nakedness? Never to be a topic between us.” Kurt stood and nudged Dot playfully as he walked out to the hall. “Now, if you want to discuss the chief’s nakedness...”

“I expect a report Monday morning!”

“I told you, lady. I’m not that kind of boy!”

They fell into the comfortable silence that typically settled on their office of two and after a few hours, Dot stood in his doorway, ready to take off for the day. “Seriously Kurt? Be careful.”

Kurt tilted his head in question, the overly maternal concern unusual for Dot. “I will be??”

“If this thing with the chief gets hot and heavy and then goes sour, it can really screw up our relationship with the department. And that relationship is critical in this county.”

“I know. I’m not…I’m not crossing any ethical lines am I?”

“No, not at all. You can date whoever the hell you want. Just…no matter what happens? When it’s time for you to do your job, you put aside anything personal. Good, bad…any of it. On a scene, our clients are your priority. Not your love life.”

“I know. And I promise not to take his pants off in the truck ever again.”

Chapter Three