There were people yelling his name, he knew that, but not even the protesting people could stop him from actually marching out the restaurant to go to the one across the street. For three years in culinary institution Blaine had been his personal plague and now he thought he could simply start working not even forty feet away from him? Like hell he was.

He had to be thankful traffic was light that day, because Kurt wasn't even slightly aware of the street he was crossing in broad daylight - in his chef's uniform, for goodness sake.

Blaine and Meerkat had already gone back inside Cannareccione and Kurt was happy to see the restaurant's doors still open. With unnecessary dramatic effect he pushed the glass doors open, trying to disguise the awe on his face because holy shit, the interior was even more beautiful up close than it looked from afar.

Everything was warm; the dark red color on the walls, the glossy wooden tables and chairs and even though the pictures on the wall were black and white, they fitted in perfectly. All the more reason to really hate this place.

With sturdy steps he continued his search for Blaine, looking around for the kitchen entrance because he would probably be working in all the equipment, and when he located the Bordeaux-colored doors, someone from the other side of the restaurant area started to call for him.

 "Sir!" A boy in a waiter's outfit started to jog toward him, but Kurt couldn't care less and set pace to the doors. "Sir! We're not open yet, we open on Friday, sir!"

Kurt heard voices coming from the kitchen and the closer he got, the louder they became. As he was reaching to fling the doors open, he noticed they weren't ordinary talking voices - but singing ones.

"When the moon hits your eye!" someone sung with a ridiculous Italian accent. "Like a big pizza pie, Wes - the honors to you -"

He stepped through the doors and was welcomed by an Asian-descended man, arms wide open behind a counter, singing with a warm voice: "That's amore!"

A laugh followed from an unknown spot in the kitchen that wasn't in Kurt's sight, but the man who just sang - Wes - lowered his arms and frowned at Kurt. Not that he could blame him: a strange man in chef whites just stepped into the kitchen and he definitely didn't work here.

Kurt noticed another man, this one dark skinned and stirring in a pan with a purée that looked like tomatoes - of course tomatoes, it's an Italian restaurant - and Kurt rolled his eyes at that.

"When you sing, ding-a-ling-a-ling - ding-a-ling-a-ling -"  the original singing voice that Kurt heard outside the kitchen continued and the man whom it belonged to appeared around a corner, carrying a big ball of dough and opened his mouth to sing again, "then you know you're in loooooveeeee..." Blaine stopped, drawling out the last word and stared at Kurt without a hint of surprise.

Kurt was sure steam was coming out of his ears, clenching his fists tightly and thinning his lips into a line.

"Well hello," Blaine smirked.

The doors behind Kurt swung open and the waiter from the restaurant appeared behind him.

"I'm sorry, he just walked in -" he started to babble and turned to Kurt, "sir, you can't come here -"

"Nick," Blaine said and the waiter became silent, "it's okay."

"But -"

Kurt felt Nick take in his uniform and probably deducted he was from another restaurant, as La Vedette's logo was proudly stitched to his pocket and sleeves.

"It's fine, Kurt just wants to talk, don't you?" Blaine plucked the ball of dough a little bit, determining whether it was ready to knead or not. His eyes were sparkling with amusement and he bit his lip teasingly, like he did many times before years ago.

With a small nod Kurt answered, much to Nick's annoyance, and he went back to the restaurant area. Wes and the other man hadn't returned to their tasks yet. Blaine noticed that as well and ordered them to continue, making Wes do something with prosciutto and the other man, whom was addressed as David, started to stir again. Blaine himself threw the dough onto the main counter on top of some flour and began to knead it with long movements. His sleeves were rolled op and with every effort he made, the muscles of his arms tensed and his uniform tightened.

Kurt heard himself swallow and he didn't even notice that Blaine was talking to him. Nor could he remember the reason why he was even there.

"So, why do we have the honor of your presence, Kurt?"

He snapped back out of his trance, blinking heavily. The sudden anger flowed back into his body and he crossed his arms quickly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked through his teeth.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm making pizza." He was still kneading and flatting the dough. "Want some?"

"What?" Kurt hissed.

"Pizza." Blaine stared at him as if he was doubting his sanity. "Do you want some? We're making Pizza Margherita con Prosciutto di Parma." The Italian rolled off his tongue and Kurt was ignoring the shivers down his spine.

"No," he answered, almost disgusted, "I'm asking why are you here across from my restaurant?"

Blaine pursed his lips, which was a sign he was going to say something completely obnoxious, and raised one finger, which indicated it was even more obnoxious. "Not your restaurant," he said and stood straight up, taking back his hands from the dough, "as I can recall a lovely lady talking too much about her restaurant."

The fact he described Rachel as lovely stung more than the comment that he didn't own La Vedette and he was not sure why.

"That doesn't matter because I still work there," he snapped.

"And I work here now." Blaine took some more flour and sprinkled it over the dough.

"Why?" Finally Kurt was back at the fact he wanted to find out.

He watched Blaine chop out a piece of the dough, weighing it in his hands before he continued with only that part. "Because I was done travelling and my brother had a spot in this restaurant. And you know, famiglia." He flashed a huge grin.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, he owns like a dozen restaurants over the East coast. I never told you that?" Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember if he had ever told that. "Oh wait," he looked Kurt straight in the eye, "I always wanted to tell you that if you would come on a date with me." Slightly angry he threw down the smaller ball and walked to a sink to wash his hands. "But we never reached that point."

"With good reason," Kurt quickly quipped. 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Sure..."

"Whatever, that doesn't take away the fact you started to work right across from my restaurant - "

"Not your restaurant."

"Oh, fuck you! Merde!" Kurt bit his tongue immediately, closing his eyes and Blaine only seemed more amused by his outburst. He was drying his hands with a towel and walked pass the counters to get closer to Kurt.

Kurt took a few deep breaths. He didn't swear much in front of other people or strangers - and definitely not in front of people of the same branch, and he couldn't believe he let himself go like that. His eyes opened again and he saw Blaine leaning against a counter, three feet away from him and still drying his hands. There was a smile playing on his lips and he looked up from underneath his eyelashes.

"Do you speak French to your lovers?" he asked sultry.

"What?" Kurt sounded appalled.

"Hey! You've been asking me a million questions, it's only fair if I get to ask at least one. Apart from the pizza question, because you're still welcome to share a slice with me." Blaine pushed himself off the counter and dropped the towel somewhere. Suddenly he was really close, their chests almost touching and Blaine had to look up to meet Kurt in the eye. "So, I always wondered," he said softly in order that Wes and David couldn't hear him, "do you speak French to your lovers?" His breath felt warm on Kurt's skin and Kurt was still in such a state of shock that he couldn't even think of answering. "Do you whisper sweet French words into his ear when you're close?" Blaine moved so it was him whispering into Kurt's ear. "Je t'aime? Mon amour?"

Goosebumps appeared on Kurt's forearms and his eyes were fluttering shut. He needed to shove Blaine away, create distance and definitely not lean forward so they were touching or take in Blaine's scent. Suddenly, however, Blaine stepped back and Kurt made a protesting noise at the cold air in front of him instead of the warm human being.

The disappointment didn't last long because as soon as he saw the smug grin on Blaine's face, he froze all over again.

"I hate you," he said and Blaine laughed out loud.

"Say it more often and I'll start thinking you'd actually like me. Or maybe even love me." He bit his lower lip and his eyes flickered down to Kurt's, making him feel insecure and he sucked them in. "Ah, love!" Blaine said and flailed his arms. "Such an ugly word, actually." Blaine frowned. "Love, ugh, no. When they were making up the English word for it, they should have listened to the Italians. Or French for that matter." He turned around to walk to David, grabbed a spoon from a shelf and dipped it into the tomato sauce. "Amore. Amour," he drawled out the R's, "way more rrr-romantic."

"You're giving me a language lesson?" Kurt cocked an eyebrow and Blaine laughed.

"Maybe," he answered and tasted the sauce, licking the spoon with his eyes locked on Kurt's. Kurt hadn't even noticed how dark his eyes were - they seemed completely lust-blown and when he swallowed, he let out the most obscene moan Kurt had ever heard. "Heaven, man," he said and smacked David's arms, "heaven! Just add some salt and we can start testing our new baby." He looked back at Kurt . "Our stone-oven," he clarified.

"I don't care," Kurt said coldly.

Blaine lowered the spoon back into the sauce and for a second Kurt thought he was going to taste again, but instead he walked toward Kurt with a cautious hand underneath it to keep from spilling on the floor.

"Here, taste it," he offered and held up the spoon. Kurt looked down, scrunching his nose.

"That spoon has been in your mouth."

"Other things could be in my mouth, if you're suggesting that." His eyebrow quirked a bit and Kurt's eyes widened.

"You just dipped a spoon that has been used into a sauce meant for customers - you're disgusting."

"Well, I guess I'll be the only one eating pizza then. And besides I'm only testing the kitchen, and if you just taste it, you wouldn't mind sharing a pizza and maybe after that I can find out whether you speak French to your lovers or not..."

Kurt's mouth opened in shock and Blaine took the opportunity to shove in the spoon with sauce. Kurt let out a choking noise, but closed his lips around the spoon and Blaine pulled it back carefully. His eyes closed as the warm sauce hit his taste buds and suddenly his entire mouth was filled with the overwhelming aroma of the tomatoes. His trained tasting skills kicked in, and carefully he took in all the ingredients that were used. He tasted garlic, spices and indeed a small lack of salt, but overall - the sauce was indeed heaven with a smoky flavor. There was something done with the tomatoes that made them taste like that.

He opened his eyes again. "Roasted?" he asked without realizing and Blaine shook his head.

"Burned." Blaine was close again, whispering softly. "Burned over an open fire until the skin is black." That explained the smokiness.

While the taste in his mouth was fading, the anger and reason why he was there returned.

"Did you - did you just force me to taste your sauce?" he spluttered.

Blaine just shrugged. "You seemed to like it."

"Next time you do that, I will report your ass to the health and hygiene inspection, oh my God - you could have poisoned me." Kurt wished he could spit out the sauce.

"Like you threatened to do yesterday." Blaine rolled his eyes. "Why are you still so touchy about things? School was years ago, any chef could have started to work here." He walked away to continue with his dough.

"Yes, and apparently I pissed someone up high off, because they sent me you." Kurt stepped forward to reduce the distance. "You might be new here but I have been around here longer. I know New York, I know its inhabitants. New York needs finery, not another pizza hut -"

"Ouch, that hurt," Blaine said.

"- so get ready to pack your bags soon, because I don't surrender easily, Blaine Anderson. This is my town, my street, and I won't let you beat me!"

Blaine tilted his head to the right as Kurt controlled his rage.

"Can I ask you out now?" he asked when Kurt returned to his normal color.

"Oh my God!" Kurt threw his arms up, grabbing his hair in despair. "You're unbelievable! No, the answer is still no and never will be yes," he yelled, "so please, please give it up. As you said - school was years ago."

Blaine pouted the same way he always did when Kurt rejected him.

"Some habits never change," he said and a silence fell.

Kurt knew he had to leave, preferably five minutes ago than now, but wanted to make one final statement before he would return to La Vedette.

"Just so you know," he said, "this isn't over."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "Are you declaring war, Chef Hummel?"

"Maybe," Kurt managed to say teasingly and he turned around to storm out of the kitchen, missing Blaine's excited smile.

David appeared on his side, shaking his head. "I can see why you like him," he said dryly.

"I know." Blaine sighed a bit love-struck.

"He's never going to say yes, is he?" Wes joined his other side.

Blaine huffed. "Oh, he will," he said with a serious undertone and kept his eyes on the doors, "one day, my friends, one day. Anyway, where were we?" He licked his lips, trying to remember what they were doing before Kurt came to be a terrible spy. "Oh right, and a-one a-two- a-tree - when the moon -"

xXx

"- hits your eye like a big pizza pie! That's amore!"

Kurt ignored the returned singing as he tried to return to La Vedette. Nick the waiter shot him an annoyed glance, placing glasses one by one on the tables and shaking his head. There was another waiter busy on the other side, this one with lush blonde hair and Kurt couldn't care less.

"That's him," Nick said and the other waiter stared at him like he was some kind of zoo-animal.

He rolled his eyes and kept on ignoring everything happening in the restaurant. He needed to go back to his own kitchen to report to his cooks, and maybe even Rachel. Every element in his mission to destroy Blaine's attempt to beat him was welcome and Rachel was very persistent in certain things.

The glass doors he barged through moments ago was nearing and he could already see La Vedette across the street. He was so close he could already hear the traffic, but then someone blocked his way.

Ugh, said Kurt almost out loud - it was the Meerkat.

"Chef Hummel," he greeted him, "already spying on the competition?"

"Italian restaurants are hardly considered competition," he lied, crossing his arms and sighed annoyed.

"Well, we'll see about that," the man mused, "I believe we haven't been properly introduced yet. My name is Sebastian Smythe, Cannareccione's restaurant manager." He held out his hand for Kurt to shake, but Kurt eyed it like it was something horrid and unhygienic.

"I'm sorry,  I don't feel safe touching things here, because your executive chef just forced down a spoon down my throat."

"How rude," Sebastian concurred, but didn't seem to mean it. "Anyway, I can assure you my hands are perfectly clean. Unlike you snail-eaters."

Kurt's eyes widened to comic proportions. Oh, he thought, is this the way we're going to play?

"Keep your garlic-breath far away from me, Jersey Shore scum," he bit back. "Let me leave so I can cook some decent food, instead of the garbage here that you can get faster than an ambulance."

"I couldn't care less about your food, the origin, or whatever. I don't even care what Blaine is serving to my future customers, aka your ex-costumers." Sebastian came closer, trying intimidate him, but apparently didn't realize Kurt had to deal with yelling French chefs for over a year. "All I care about is a forever closed sign on the door of your pathetic restaurant." His eyes flickered outside to La Vedetta where Rachel was standing behind the main window, waiting for Kurt to come back. "There's a new toy in town, chef Hummel. And people love new toys."

"Yes," Kurt said, pursing his lips, "but they always drop them faster than a flaming pan when they realize it is just a mediocre replacement. And then the old toys are there to stay."

Sebastian laughed, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? Thought so already with the rat-poison threat, which I will keep in mind once the inspection comes around." He lowered his hand again. "I couldn't believe Blaine when he told me he wanted to eat your food, and pay for it, even. But I guess that's Blaine, ever the gentleman."

Kurt tried to keep his poker face. If Blaine was dating this chipmunk, he wouldn't have asked him out, would he? Again he felt the sting like he did when Blaine called Rachel lovely - was it jealousy? Could Kurt be jealous of something he only had to say yes to? Blaine never told him bluntly that he liked him, or thought he was attractive or handsome. He would always just ask him out and Kurt would say no. That was their game, a game they had a hiatus on and it recently commenced. But maybe if Blaine did tell him he thought he was attractive at least, would he respond differently?

This was giving him a headache.

He looked back up to Sebastian and internally laughed at himself. He? Jealous of - of this? They could have each other, good riddance. A snort escaped him and Sebastian looked at him surprised.

"I'm happy I amuse you."

"Good for you," Kurt smiled, not caring about his serious posture anymore. He needed to leave and have a good glass of wine with his girls, spilling all of his naked Blaine fantasies. Just because he couldn't stand the guy, didn't mean he didn't objectify him like a normal human. He felt tired, and had an upcoming headache - he really needed to leave.

"Just to make sure we're clear," Sebastian said, "I don't care about anything but ruining your precious little pathetic excuse for a restaurant."

"Why do you have such a grudge against La Vedette?" Kurt mused out loud.

Sebastian scowled at him, walking away without even properly answering and Kurt remained astonished on his spot. He turned around to find Nick and the blonde waiter still staring at him and he jerkily shook his head. No wonder they hired Blaine to be the chef here - everybody was crazy.

Quickly he stepped outside and crossed the street, back to La Vedette.

xXx

"Did he literally say that?" Rachel asked later that day. Both of them were standing in front of the main window, watching the evening fall and saw Cannareccione test their outer lighting.

"All he wants is to ruin La Vedette," Kurt answered, repeating Sebastian's words.

He kept his information on Blaine minimum, mainly because he didn't say his reasons to work there, and Rachel seemed more interested in Sebastian anyway.

"And his name was again?"

"Sebastian Smythe." Kurt straightened his jacket. Quinn was running the preparations while he was doing his report, but guests were coming soon and he needed to start on the appetizers.

"Smythe, Smythe... oh!" Rachel raised her hand like she just had an epiphany. "Smythe, I knew I knew that name from somewhere. That asshole wanted La Vedette!"

Kurt frowned. "How could he want La Vedette? It was your idea?"

"No," Rachel shook her head, "he wanted the location. We had been battling for months via real estate to get it. I never met him, but - oh my God!" she shrieked at an ear-deafening volume. "That was him, wasn't it? The guy that was with the cute one?" She didn't even wait for Kurt to nod before she started to curse more than a sailor. ‘That bastard made me pay more than the asked price because he kept on raising it, the jerk! And - and he ate here? And you wanted to poison him! Oh my God, best idea ever, why didn't I let you?"

Rachel kept on raging and Kurt was happy she wasn't fixated on him.

"And now he has a restaurant across the street," Kurt cut through her rant.

"Yes, wait - no." She frowned. "It was bought by some restaurant owner, so he's just the manager. He doesn't own it, but who does then?" She looked up to Kurt.

"Blaine's brother," he said quietly, "or the chef's brother."

"But Smythe made clear he wanted to own this place. He really wanted it." Rachel seemed to have a permanent frown on her face as she tried to connect the dots.

Kurt said nothing. Hearing Rachel's story made it clear why Sebastian wanted them to go out of business - it was so he could have it. Over my dead body, he thought.

"Do we have to worry?" he asked, wondering what Rachel was thinking and she shook her head.

"No, no, they're opening on Friday, you said? We're completely full. Our guests are very loyal and just because some tacky Italian opens then, doesn't mean they run like a hoard of sheep."

"Okay," Kurt said, unconvinced. New toys were tricky, and were always trouble. "I need to head back to the kitchen, don't let me come out to accept some compliments, okay?"

Rachel shook her head again, keeping her eyes focused on Cannareccione. They both were trying to convince each other everything was going to be completely fine, but deep down they knew - this could become worse than they both anticipated.

xXx

The next day, three magazines and some papers miraculously were left behind in front of the doors of La Vedette. All of them had the same - articles about the new restaurant on Restaurant Row and all of them praiseful about the ambiance that was already there before they even opened.

"It's a bluff," Rachel said, "and desperate. They need to promote themselves."

"Rachel," Kurt said, a magazine in his hand as well as they were sitting in one of the private booths, "we did exactly the same when we were opening. And that turned out in three months fully booked."

"Yes, well, uhm," she frowned, "Italian and French are still attracting different kinds of audiences." Making a dramatic statement, she started to pile up all the papers. "Nobody has called yet to cancel -"

Right at that moment the main phone started to ring. They shared a quick glance and Rachel scooted to the front on her heels.

"I think you just jinxed it," he muttered and heard Rachel pick up the phone with her usual opening lines.

It was Thursday - Cannareccione was opening tomorrow, and by the way Rachel was looking, La Vedette had just received their first cancellation.

And as it was turning out - the first of many. For the rest of the day and Friday, the phone was ringing red hot. It was all Kurt could think of, trying to stay focused on the dishes he was still going to serve to the people that were coming, but failing miserably.

Even on Friday morning when he was at the fish market, he couldn't even laugh at the jokes his usual deliverer Brad was making. He was only imagining going to La Vedette and being faced with his greatest fear - being beaten by Blaine, again.

With his heart heavy in his chest, he entered through the backdoor and was greeted by Quinn bent over one of the counters, head in her hands. There were no food or preparations in sight.

"What's going on?" he asked and Quinn shook her head. She gestured to the restaurant.

Kurt left almost immediately, not even taking off his coat, and came in just as Rachel hung up the main phone. He had been seeing her do that too often the past days.

Rachel seemed defeated, resting her head in her hands like Quinn did back in the kitchen.

"Call your cooks," she said muffled, "we're closed tonight."

"What?" Kurt's heart started to thump nervously.

"You heard me." Her voice was cracked. "Everybody cancelled, not even the waiting list wants to come. We've got an empty house tonight."

"But - how? That's impossible!"

Rachel shook her head and looked out the window.

"They serve lunch, too," she said and Kurt walked to the main window so he could see it for himself. "They opened today at eleven. It's been packed since."

"Merde," he cursed.

Cannareccione was all people, lights and laughter - there were even people waiting outside to get in. He heard the noises of a large crowd having a good time and his thumping heart was sinking slowly into nothing.

It was like hearing Blaine got France all over again, but this time might be hurting even more. His main goal, the thing he built up together with his team, was being snatched away within days.

Rachel said something that she was leaving with Quinn and if he wanted to come too. He shook his head, remaining where he was.

He remembered being told to lock everything up. He remembered the lights being switched off. He remembered standing in an empty restaurant for most of the evening, watching his returned rival celebrate his win vigorously, and didn't touch one pan, knife or chopping board.

Not a single drop of sweat was wiped away from his head. And nights that passed without sweat were considered unsuccessful, as he told his staff all the time.

Tonight was definitely considered unsuccessful. The most unsuccessful one of them all.

xXx