Kurt hadn't moved away from the doors yet, keeping the right one occupied as all the desserts went through the left one. Nobody dared to ask him to go away or what was going on - not even Quinn or Santana.

He tried to stay as invisible as possible, only sneaking through the round window with one eye and watched Blaine and his friend (date? boyfriend?) getting ready to leave. Rachel was still mending his disaster and Meerkat kept on gesturing it was alright, eyeing Blaine constantly to make him say something too. Except Blaine was smirking to himself, shrugging on his coat - a dark, expensive coat that made Kurt jealous.

Blaine obviously had come to La Vedette to see him, to torment him and Kurt had taken the bait, snapping back into his former culinary institute -self almost instantly.

"I hate you so much," he muttered to the door, mentally trying to shoo them away.

Rachel seemed defeated, shaking Meerkat's hand in apology and tried to gain Blaine's attention - hadn't she said something about the quiet one being cute? Oh God, poor girl, he thought. She had no idea what lay underneath those perfect dark curls, full lips and sparkling eyes. The fact he had grown even more handsome than he was back in school made Kurt hate him even more. His hair was tad longer, with his curls flowing more freely now and still, still, Kurt wondered what it would feel like to let his fingers get tangled in them.

Blaine smiled friendly at Rachel and shook her hand as well. His head turned around the restaurant, commenting on something that made Rachel blush deeply, ugh, and suddenly he glanced over at the kitchen, eyes meeting with Kurt.

Panicked he ducked, missing the smirk forming on Blaine's lips, and stayed completely still in front the door. Quickly he turned around to lean against it with his back. This night was definitely not going as he had expected too.

Quinn shot him a worried look and in the far distance he could hear tiny heels approaching the door. Kurt knew that was his cue, jumping up and zigzagged through the kitchen. He wasn't ready to face Rachel just yet and knew she only had little time to stay in the kitchen. If he would hide, he would be safe for at least another hour - or maybe until after the shift even.

He grabbed the discarded bottle of Merlot from a counter. "I'll be in the cooler," he told Quinn, still walking sturdily without stopping.

"You'll be where?" she asked confused, but Kurt had already vanished into the big silver cooler located in the back of the kitchen.

The sudden silence threw him off track for a second. It was dead silent in the cooler compared to the loud noises of the kitchen and he let the icy air lick the skin that wasn't protected by his chef's clothes. A small cloud escaped his lips as he stepped in further.

It had been six or seven years last time he hid inside a restaurant's cooler. Last time had been in France during his very first week at his internship when Chef Fournier wiped the floor with him because that is what you do with interns. Not that he hated his time there - Chef Fournier had taught him valuable lessons on being a great chef and one of those lessons was about not showing weakness.

A chef that showed weakness or vulnerability was never going to be a good one. Kurt hadn't shown weakness ever since in the kitchen, always working hard and quick, but late at night in his crappy Parisian apartment Kurt would cry himself to sleep, wondering if he would be able to take it all. Some nights he even wondered if Blaine would have sustained, and he realized that every moment he broke down he thought of Blaine.

Which was why he hadn't thought of Blaine the past six years, because when he returned from Paris - Kurt Hummel was a new man that didn't have weaknesses.

He shuffled through some shelves, trying to make up a reason why he was in the cooler and failing miserably. The bottle of wine was still in his hand, also without a concrete reason but after reading the year and determining he was going to get fired anyway - Kurt managed to open it.

Before France Kurt never truly appreciated a good wine: the stingy bite of the alcohol and the sweet or sourness of it. He and drinking weren't particularly friends, but after a very intense master class he learned food and wine were a match made in heaven. Wine was also very good to make moments like these disappear, even though he wasn't planning on becoming drunk.

With a frown on his face he clucked down the first sip, choking on the wine that accidently came into his lungs and angrily pushed the bottle away. He couldn't even enjoy some stolen wine, and yes, he blamed Blaine for that.

Blaine fucking Anderson, making him relive his entire school-career with only the use his voice.

He remembered well the first time they met. It was the first lesson on Classical Cuisine, at Columbus Culinary Institute and Kurt was planning on succeeding with flying colors.

xXx

It was an early class and Kurt mindlessly flipped through one of the mandatory books, not reading anything new. Most of the subjects he already knew. All he needed was a chance to do it for real and even though Commercial Kitchen Skills and Procedures and Purchasing and Cost Control were necessary, Kurt really wanted to start cooking.

What he could live without were his fellow students. According to him they didn't seem half as motivated or passionate as they should be. All they did was goof around, playing drums with the utensils when the teaching chefs were gone and mocking him on daily basis. One week in and he was already the teacher's pet, praised for his focus and perseverance, at least until someone took the spot in front of him.

Kurt didn't even glance over the book, keeping it retentively high so nobody would disturb him before class started.

"Hi," the person in front of him said, who was apparently a man and leaned forward to Kurt's desk to gain attention.

"Hello," he said coldly, not looking at him.

"Mastering the Art of Professional Cooking," the boy recited from the cover, "is it interesting?"

"It's dull, but it's mandatory," Kurt snapped.

"Oh, I guess I should buy it then..."

"Yes, it's on your booklist."

Without a warning the book was removed from his hands and the thief in question was sitting right in front of him, staring pensively at the chapter Kurt had been reading. For second Kurt was happy the boy was distracted, because damn he was handsome, dark hair and light eyes perfectly packed in a neat muscular body. This was in his Classical Cuisine class?

"Well," the boy said, "I can always borrow yours."

He looked up, eyes locking with Kurt's and for a moment they simply stared at each other.

"Give it back," Kurt said after finding his voice, but the boy shut the book with a slam and placed it on his own table, far out of Kurt's reach.

"My name's Blaine." The boy, Blaine, held out his hand for Kurt to shake and he did so, albeit a bit reservedly.

"Kurt. Can I have my book back?"

"Can I share your cooking station?" Blaine's eyes lingered over to the empty space next to Kurt, still holding his hand.

"No." If he had his way he would get private lessons, so he was already tolerating his classmates, but he was keeping his own station no matter what.

"Then say ciao to your book."

Kurt rolled his eyes, getting frustrated. "That's theft."

"I'm just borrowing it." He shrugged. "I might not give your hand back, though."

Flustered Kurt tried to take his hand back, but Blaine only tightened his grip effortlessly.

"You're the most annoying human being I have ever met." And the most attractive one, he added in his head.

"Most people call it charming." Blaine let go of his hand, scooting even closer so he could rest his elbows on Kurt's desk and rested his head on his hands. "Where are you from?"

"Why would you care?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, uhm," Blaine frowned, and Kurt was not so secretly pleased at the confusion he created, "I guess I'm just trying to get to know you? Curious?" He shrugged, hoping his adorable face would be enough, but Kurt wasn't that easy to break.

"Go be curious at your own station." He nodded to the front of the room where their teaching chef was already setting up his lesson.

"Have lunch with me?" Blaine asked and Kurt stared back at him stunned. This guy wanted to have lunch with him?

"No," he answered resolute. He wasn't going to culinary institute to make friends or have lunch with a thief.

"That's too bad, I wanted to return your book if you had said yes," Blaine pouted.

"You could also just give it back," Kurt's voice grew harsher, "because it's not yours."

"I'll give it back if you'll have lunch with me."

"Class -" the teacher called order and Blaine didn't turn around. Kurt had come to the point he was sure his glares were deadly.

"Have lunch with me?" Blaine tried again.

"No." Was he for real? Kurt shook his head and mouthed once again ‘no'. There was no way he would ever have lunch with him.

"May I request your attention?" the teacher said, his voice much closer than it was before and Blaine spun around with a jump, staring straight into the eyes of his teacher. Kurt bit his lip to hide a smile, but that urge vanished quickly when the teacher took the book that was lying on Blaine's desk into his hands. "Ah, I see young mister here already purchased the required literature, excellent."

"Yes, sir," Blaine answered politely and blood started to boil underneath Kurt's skin, ready to burst.

"Actually -" Kurt started.

"I've heard some people thinking it's boring, but I'm finding it interesting," Blaine interfered.

The teacher's face scrunched into a pleased expression, knocking on the book for good measure before putting it down again and returned to his own desk. Blaine turned his head only slightly, eyes locking with Kurt and somehow he understood that if he would say anything about the stolen book, Blaine would tattle that he was the one finding it boring.

"Can anyone tell me -" the teacher said brusque, requesting Blaine's attention again, "what the first step is on creating a menu?"

Kurt's hand shot up. "Seasonality." The teacher looked at him surprised, which was what Kurt was going for. If the teacher would know who he was, he would be able to succeed with even brighter flying colors.

"To be honest," Blaine then burst his bubble, "first you look at what kind of group you're going to serve, and after that you look at seasonality. Seasonal ingredients are important for a-la-carte menus, but not so much for big catering ones -"

The rest of the class started to mutter to each other and the teacher cleared his throat again.

"I'm afraid you are right," he looked from Blaine to Kurt and back to Blaine, "what is your name?"

"Blaine." he answered and Kurt could hear the amusement flowing through his melodic voice. "Blaine Anderson."

"Excellent, Mister Anderson." The teacher clapped his hands to capture everyone's attention again and started his lesson. As he was writing on the board, Blaine turned around again and gave Kurt the most self-absorbed look ever, clacking his tongue playfully. It made Kurt angry and scared at the same time, and somehow he had the feeling he just accidently signed up for a game he never anticipated on playing.

The following days Kurt had been planning on confronting Blaine fair and square. It shouldn't be that hard - he was nineteen years old, he could demand his book back without a stutter, right?

The problem was definitely not having trouble finding Blaine, because he was somehow everywhere he went. When they had class together, Blaine would be close to his station and if Kurt wanted to answer a teacher's question, Blaine would answer before he even had the chance.

And the worst part was even that Blaine was actually good at what he did in class. During their third class they had to prepare their first dish and for a full minute Kurt had just been staring at Blaine in front of him, shaking his pan like a pro. He only forced himself to continue his own cooking when Blaine looked meaningfully over his shoulder, flexing his arms like the cocky douchebag he was.

There was no doubt Blaine knew he was good looking and it ticked Kurt off even more, because every time he wanted to confront him, Blaine gave him either an ill-curing smile or a soul-crushing pout. He was absolutely impossible.

After three weeks of demanding his book back and getting the request to go out to lunch with Blaine in return, Kurt gave up.

"You haven't asked your book back in a while..." Blaine said during their pre-class set up. Kurt ignored him and continued checking his cutlery.

"I got a new one, newer edition." Kurt said, hoping he would leave him alone but of course he didn't.

"You could have just gone out to lunch with me, you know."

"And I remember saying no every single time, so please, let it be." He looked up to find Blaine looking hurt before it turned back into arrogant.

"Well, maybe now I can ask you out to dinner?"

With a clang Kurt slammed down his chopping knife, grabbing the edge of the counter too firmly so his knuckles turned white. "Why don't you just give up?"

"Just like you did with your book? I was expecting more from you." Blaine crossed his arms. "I just want to try out this new Italian place downtown." Kurt wasn't quick enough to stop himself from making a gagging noise. "You... don't like... Italian?"

"Not really." Kurt answered much softer, somehow seeing Blaine crushed made him feel guilty.

"You wound me." Blaine placed his hand on his heart. "Considering you're not letting me tell you this on a date, I'll tell you now that my long life dream is to start an Italian restaurant."

Kurt froze for a second. So he hadn't been imagining things that Blaine didn't just want a friendly lunch or dinner, but wanted an actual date. Was he insane?

"Lovely, are you going to deliver your pizzas by car yourself?" Kurt praised his returned snark.

"If you're the one ordering, I might," Blaine said quickly.

"Good, now I know I'll never order Italian food anywhere. Ever." He managed to return to his preparation, reading through the recipe again. Blaine, however, didn't return back to his station like Kurt hoped.

"Why are you so bitter?" he asked quietly, finger trailing over the silver counter.

"Why are you still bothering me?" Kurt looked up intensely. "You already annoy me enough during class, why want to expand that to outside the classroom?"

Blaine's face turned amused. "So it does annoy you that I'm better than you."

"I didn't say that. I think your entire presence is annoying enough."

"You totally hate it that I'm better at classical cuisine than you. You're not used to that, are you? Being second." Blaine was completely intrigued, leaning over even closer. "You can't stand it that I know all the answers, that I know you took the wrong knives for today's dish." Kurt started to blush furiously, looking down to find indeed the wrong knives. "There's a simply way on making me stop, you know -"

"Mister Anderson," the teacher's voice suddenly interrupted. Blaine turned around swiftly at the strict tone. Without noticing the class had started. "Why don't you share what you were telling Mister Hummel just now."

"I, uh," Blaine stammered and the entire class was staring at him, much to Kurt's entertainment, "I was just telling Kurt about the origin of my passion for cooking."

Kurt let out a huff. Ass-kissing much?

"How endearing, why don't you tell the entire class about your passion. I'm sure we're thrilled to know," the teacher said.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt added, "it was fascinating." He did a little finger wiggle to ridicule it and Blaine was trapped. Yes, this was highly amusing.

"Okay, um." Blaine gave him a look, a look Kurt didn't trust because he just went from lost to determined in less than five seconds. "When I was young, well, younger." He moved away from his station, passing the teacher and started to walk around. "My nonna told me that food is the one thing everybody has in common. We all need to eat," he clarified, stopping next to Kurt's station. "And she said that food brought people together. Which I experienced myself, in Italy where my nonna lives."

Kurt wanted to disappear through the ground - he didn't even know that Blaine was partly Italian. He had completely insulted his food heritage.

"And she told me, Blaine -" he continued in an Italian accent, "bambino - hey, don't laugh, I was small, okay? - when you cook, you must imagine cooking for someone you love." The last word rolled over his tongue. Kurt had never noticed how Blaine spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly and passionately. It was actually strangely hard to look away from him, much to his own annoyance. "And if you imagine that everybody that eats your food loves you back, you can't go wrong. As long as you cook with love, there will always be a reason to cook. All the way until -" He locked eyes with Kurt and Kurt blushed, "- you only cook for the only person you truly love." He kissed his fingertips and sent the kiss away. "Then you reached your ultimate goal. Il vero amore."

The class let out a collective sigh, Kurt included with a small hitch. Blaine was still looking at him before returning to his own station, leaving the teacher partly stunned in front of the room.

"O-okay," the teacher muttered. "Thank you for that, Blaine. Let's start the lesson. Chopping knives at the ready."

Kurt's hand was shaking when he reached for his required knife. He had no idea what was going on in his head, but he was definitely ignoring the impact that that stupid speech had on him. Not only did Blaine have skill, but he also had passion. Just great, exactly what he needed - a crush on the one boy that annoyed him to bits.

Blaine gave him a glance over his shoulder, sending him a soft smile before it turned into a pleased smirk. Oh, God, he had noticed his confusion. His newly revealed crush vanished as quick as it came. Blaine had completely played him with his story and now Kurt was even doubting if one little fact of it was true. Angrily he started to chop up the basil. Right there he made the promise he would never give into Blaine. He would not even remotely like him and he would never think about that stupid story ever again.

xXx

The door from the cooler screeched open and Quinn stared down at him as he was sitting on the floor.

"Weren't you the one that told me not to stay in the cooler longer than fifteen minutes?" she asked, closing the door and stepped toward him. Kurt hadn't even noticed his skin going numb because of the cold and frankly he didn't care. "And also that drinking restaurant wine was stealing?"

"I didn't drink it," Kurt said quickly. "Much."

"Well, I can join you in this felony." She sat down next to him, crossing her legs. He reached out for the bottle and stared at the label for a little while.

"I think the real abomination is that I let this one cool." He sighed. "I might as well just buy it from Rachel so I can finish it at home."

"Hey!" Quinn gave him a playful slap. "What happened to the part where we commit a crime together?"

Kurt snorted, handing over the wine and Quinn placed it next to her, not even taking a sip.

"I gave Santana orders to clean and shut the kitchen," she said softly, "I hope that's okay, I know you gave me orders -"

Kurt cut her off with his hand. "No need to treat me like the chef in here," he said. "And thank you."

"Are you alright?" Quinn dared to ask. "I know Rachel can exaggerate a little, but did you really threaten to poison a customer?"

He nodded slowly. "Yep."

"Was that just a statement to never having to confront customer again or was there something specifically with this one? Or did he tell you the food was atrocious, because then I totally understand."

Kurt hummed, trying to select words to say. "I know him," he finally said. "He's like the ghost from your past that you try to forget so hard and when you think you reached that point, he just pops up, you know?"

"I know." She nodded. "So is he like an ex?"

He snorted even louder. "He wishes."

"O-kay?" She stared sideways at him, wondering if she would get more out of her made of stone boss. "You want to talk about it or -? We can like make a segment out of it. Cooler confessions?" she tried to lighten the mood, but Kurt stopped smiling and stared into nothing.

"He used to ask me out all the time. I always said no."

Cooler confessions it was. Quinn scooted closer. "Why? I didn't see him, was he ugly or something?"

"Nope, opposite of that. He was just... annoying. He always wanted to beat me in class and vice versa." Kurt felt like really needed that drink now and hated himself for handing the bottle over.

"And did he? Beat you?"

Kurt stayed quiet for a little while. "Yes," he said, barely a whisper. "He did. In a way. Fourth year of culinary institute always consisted a full year of traineeship. I was up for all the high restaurants, together with him. And then France came in the picture."

Quinn frowned. "But, you went to France, didn't you?"

"I did. Eventually." He sucked in his lips and released them again with a smacking noise. "But I wasn't their first choice. They preferred him and I only got it because he dropped out." He never found out why Blaine dropped out in the first place, because he wanted to forget that dreadful time. One moment he was sure he was going to get it and the next it all tumbled down when one of his classmates told him Blaine was running for the same internship.

"Well, that's his loss." Quinn smiled. "Because you turned into a magnificent chef." She pressed a friendly kiss on his cheek.

The door opened again and this time Santana was standing in the doorway.

"What's going on here?"

"Cooler confessions," Quinn said as if it was obvious.

"Oh, nice. Invite me too next time, I'll tell you about that one time when I was catering a hotel." Santana looked around and continued, "So I almost gagged the hobbit and told her that if the customer didn't plan on suing the restaurant, she had no business attacking you, there you go. You can thank me with a night off."

Kurt let out a hiccup and a laugh. "Thanks, San."

"De nada."

"It's ‘de rien'."

"Bless you." Santana clapped her hands. "Okay, if we're continuing this pity party, can we please change the setting into in a bar or something?"

Kurt shook his head. "I need to close the kitchen. And go home." Both women let out a disappointing noise. "We can go out another day," he promised.

He got up before Quinn did, rubbing his arms to get some of the feeling back and excited the cooler. The kitchen was empty and almost excruciating hot compared to the cooler. He needed to close the kitchen fast so he could go home and with the help from Quinn and Santana, they were standing outside the backdoors in no time.

"See you tomorrow!" Santana said, stepping on her motorcycle and drove away.

As usual Kurt and Quinn shared their way home with the subway together until Quinn took her earlier exit and he was all alone. Later that night in his apartment, Kurt took out the replacement book of  Mastering the Art of Professional Cooking and wondered for the first time in seven years what Blaine had done to the original copy.

xXx

The next day Kurt took every silent second in the kitchen whilst preparing as a gift from heaven. He might have escaped Rachel's wrath yesterday but as with every day he was going to see her during the presentation of the menu.

Quinn knew it was coming as well because she was suspiciously quiet.

He even seriously considered remaining in the kitchen, but reminded himself that he was no coward. With his head high he walked into the restaurant where that night's staff was already fooling around.

"Kurt!" Rachel yelled and walked to him. "I can't believe you did that yesterday! I should fire you!"

"But you won't," Kurt muttered under his breath. At this point he wished she did.

"You're lucky they didn't press charges or that there are articles about it!"

"Oh good, they're not journalists, something I knew." Kurt watched the food being stalled out.

"Then who were they?" Rachel asked.

"Something far, far worse." He nodded that everybody could sit down. "Ladies and gents -"

"Kurt!"

"Tonight's menu, presented by Brit-"

"Kurt Hummel!" Rachel said even louder than she did before. "I hope you understand that this was severe misbehavior and that it can never, ever, happen again."

"So you promise me you'll never force me to leave my kitchen?" He stared at her straight in her eyes, but something outside drew his attention away from her.

The restaurant across the street was somehow different - the papers hiding the interior were being removed. Rachel noticed him staring and turned around as well, together with the rest of the staff.

A cardboard was removed from the outside, revealing a silver logo decorating the biggest window.

"What's it say?" Sugar asked, being the farthest away from the window.

"Canna -" Santana tried. "It's foreign, Cannare-"

"Cannareccione." Kurt said breathless. "Italian."

"Isn't that a bird?" Quinn asked, looking up to Kurt but he kept on staring at the workmen peeling away every little thing hiding the new restaurant.

"It's a singer, or warbler." Santana looked up from her phone where she had Googled a translation.

"This is even worse than a fastfood diner," Rachel muttered, gasping when the lights were tested inside and the warm interior was showed.

Deep inside Kurt's guts he knew something far more dreadful was coming. Carefully he stepped to the windows of La Vedette, trying to see even more of Cannareccione. There was someone outside beholding the entire reveal.

He gasped - it was the Meerkat from yesterday. What was he doing outside their new competitor? Was he the chef? He didn't look like the chef, he looked more like the manager or owner. Kurt stayed where he was, his breath fogging up the window and tried to make a mental note to ask Puck to wipe them.

The restaurant looked fancy, professional and it was turning out to be even more than just trouble. Restaurant business was hard, new toys could mean the end of an old one.

Just when Kurt thought it couldn't turn even worse, another man stepped outside the restaurant. This one wearing chef whites, cleaning his hands with a towel and walked to Meerkat to view the restaurant as well.

Kurt clenched his hands into fists, ignoring everything around him and kept on staring as the chef turned around to glance at him - or more likely at the restaurant.

Of course. He did promise he would see him around. It shouldn't had been a big surprise that Cannareccione's chef was no one other than Blaine.

xXx