Kurt Hummel had stopped having grand dreams when he was eight years old. It didn't mean his dreams were irrelevant or that he didn't dream at all. It just meant that he had a new view about what the important things in life were. Losing your mother at such a young age tends to change you and make you realize things like that.

Kurt didn't really care about being on stage, or being adored by thousands of people or having a glamorous life any more. And if he hadn't been sure, the heart attack his father had suffered when he was in his junior year of high school definitely did the trick: what Kurt Hummel cared for most was his family.

Dreams of New York and Broadway were replaced by memories of perfect Sunday mornings with his mother. Elizabeth and Kurt had begun a tradition of their own: she would wake him up every Sunday with a kiss on the nose and piggy-back him downstairs to the kitchen. It was the only day Kurt didn't mind being in his pajamas all day, as they worked together baking cookies, icing cupcakes, making special cakes for his dad or trying pretty much every recipe in Elizabeth's baking book. Once Elizabeth had passed away, Kurt had clung to that tradition, every single Sunday without exception, although for a very long time the lack of his mother's voice humming, laughing or just echoing against the walls stung his heart. But their traditions were also the only way he had to keep her close now that she was gone, so Kurt kept baking every Sunday, going through her recipes book and singing the same songs they used to sing together as they mixed the batter or waited for the oven timer to go off.

That's why after graduation, he decided to stay in Ohio. He wanted to have his family nearby. Leaving Burt behind wasn't even something he wanted to consider, not even now that his father was married again and had a step-son. Finn was taking over Hummel Tires and Lube, the garage Burt Hummel had spent years and years working at so hard, while Kurt moved to Columbus to go to college. He had been accepted into Bradford, where he decided to get a degree in Culinary Arts.

Staying in Ohio also meant Kurt wouldn't escape from the dangers of being an out gay boy in a place where many people were homophobic morons, but he had toughened up a lot while he was still in high school, having to deal with bullies and the disgusted looks directed towards him every time he walked through the halls to class. He was who he was and he loved himself. And he knew he wasn't alone. He knew there were a lot of other people like him around, but that some of them were too scared or too confused to step up and admit it. So Kurt kept his head high and promised to himself nothing would bring him down, especially ignorant idiots who wanted to use the things he couldn't change against him.

Once he graduated he worked in several restaurants as he saved the money he needed for his real dream. He decided to stay in Columbus, since he had grown to like the city and it was only a little over two hours away from his family. If his dad needed him, he could be there quite soon.

"That's a stupid reason for sticking around, Kurt," Burt had told him during one of their traditional Friday night dinners, as Carole passed him the salad and Finn attacked his steak. "Maybe not next week, or next year or in another ten years, but one day I'll be gone. This is your moment, when you need to find your own life. You can't plan what you want to do depending on whether your old man has another heart attack or not…"

"Which you won't, because you've been eating healthy and doing exercises, right?" Kurt replied with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Burt sighed. "Of course, kiddo. Every day."

"And you haven't been lifting too much weight at the shop, right?" Kurt glanced quickly at Finn now, who was shoving a piece of bread into his mouth and just nodded.

"Kurt, I told you. You need to stop worrying. I'm the dad here, you know?" Burt gave him a fond smile.

"That doesn't make any difference. I love you and I want you to be okay," Kurt took a sip of water before continuing. "And I'm staying in Ohio because it's what I want."

"I still remember the way you used to talk about New York when you were a kid…" Burt insisted.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Kurt answered. It didn't hurt. It didn't make him feel like he was making a mistake. There was no pinch of longing inside of him. He was fine. This was what he really wanted. "And I don't care what happens in ten years or in thirty. You're my family and I want to be with all of you."

"You'll want a family of your own one day and I don't think Ohio is the best place for you to find it," Burt shrugged, but let go of the argument because he only had his son at home once a week and he didn't want to spend their time together upsetting him.

But even though Burt wanted something different for his son, even though he was afraid Kurt was limiting his possibilities just to be close to him, he was there to help when, by the time Kurt was twenty five, he managed to purchase his own home-slash-bakery. It was a lovely little two story building, the store downstairs and a tiny cozy apartment upstairs. Burt and Finn helped him move the furniture, paint the walls, unload the boxes from the moving truck and do the little repairs that were necessary. It was an old heritage building, after all, and the plumbing and some of the electricity weren't ideal, but with a little help from both of them, Kurt found it absolutely perfect. Carole helped by hanging frames, putting up curtains and keeping everyone hydrated and fed. By the time they were gone, Kurt was exhausted, but happier than he had ever been. This was his home, a place he could really call his own, something he had been working for since he had graduated high school.

The living room and the kitchen were the same space, with only three doors leading to the only bedroom, a bathroom and the narrow hallway with the staircase to go downstairs. He could probably cross the entire apartment in fifteen steps or less. He still wanted to make a lot of changes to the place, but he already loved it. One of the walls was made of bricks and three others were white. He was thinking about painting it a bolder color, maybe some shade of red. The roof was wood, as well as the floors. Luckily, there was no carpet on them. The kitchen had an old time feeling to it, the countertops taken from a 50s movie and the stove didn't look much more newer than that. He had brought with him the same couch he had bought for his previous apartment that he had shared with a roommate, a girl he knew from one of his classes. It was dark beige and although it wasn't the prettiest couch in the world, it was so comfortable that Kurt just had to keep it. The dining table was small, even two people would have trouble fitting at it, but Kurt figured he wouldn't need more than that. He still needed to buy chairs, a few bookshelves and two night stands for his bedroom, in which he currently had only a queen size bed. He barely had room to move between the bed and the closet, but he was okay with it. He just felt right being there.

He still had a lot of work to do in the bakery, too. He still needed to install all the appliances in the kitchen, do some painting, decorate… He was sure he wouldn't be able to have his grand opening for at least two weeks, but he was still looking forward to it. Finn had promised to come back in a couple of days to help him and Kurt was actually glad that he would get to spend some quality time with his brother. Having dinner with him on Fridays sometimes wasn't enough to catch up on the things going on in their lives.

He was way too exhausted that day to do much more. Kurt knew the unpacking couldn't wait much longer (especially his clothes, which needed to be hung stat), but he couldn't find the energy to move from the couch once he let himself take a break. He reached for his messenger bag, which was lying on the floor close to him and fished out a book he had been reading. He settled down on the couch, head on the armrest, and opened it at the page he had left off, taking a deep breath and allowing himself to relax for a few minutes. He hadn't been there long when he heard a meow and then a fluffy, dark chocolate-furred cat was climbing up next to him and purring his way onto Kurt's stomach to take a nap.

"Are you happy with our new home, Brownie?" He asked her in a low voice as he tried to bite back a yawn. Brownie blinked her huge, round, green eyes at him. "Yeah, me too."

Five minutes later, they were both fast asleep.

Finn came over, as promised, and brought Puck with him. Kurt hadn't seen his brother's best friend in a long time, and was surprised when he was enveloped by Puck's arms in a bone crushing hug.

"How are you doing, man?" Puck asked with a big grin. "We need to get together more often. Go party. I haven't seen you in forever."

"I'm not sure I'd like to see what kind of parties you'd drag me to, Noah, but thanks for the invitation," Kurt laughed. It warmed his heart to see how Puck had changed over the years he had known him. He had gone from cliché bully-jock to accepting friend in a surprisingly short span of time.

The three men worked together all afternoon. Puck was invaluable, since he had been working in construction almost since he had finished high school. They managed to make the task fun and the kitchen was almost completely ready by the time the sun started setting. Kurt had left them working and singing Tom Petty songs about an hour before he brought a fresh batch of cookies and glasses of milk for both of them. Finn's eyes lit up as if he had seen a miracle.

Kurt used his brother's help on three more occasions before there were only little details to finish in the bakery. The fully-equipped kitchen looked amazing and he only needed to go shopping for a few tables and chairs before the opening. And he needed to bake… a lot.

On the day prior to the opening, the words Ellie's Bakery were painted above the door. He knew he could've come up with a more original name, but the meaning behind it was more important than anything else. His mother's recipe book was placed in a spot of honor on the counter, next to the antique register he had found at a flea market a couple of weeks ago. The walls had been painted in a warm, delicate yellow, the hardwood floors contrasting beautifully with them. There were a few tables scattered around the room, and several displayers for the cakes, cupcakes, cookies and other baked goods Kurt would be making that same night. Behind the counter in a corner, there was a big, shiny coffee machine and a neat stack of paper cups with the bakery's logo on them.

Kurt couldn't believe everything was finally ready after dreaming about it for so long, but when he looked around the shop later that day, the realization hit him and he couldn't stop smiling despite his nerves. He just wanted everything to be perfect, to make his mom proud, wherever she was.

That night, he baked all of her favorite recipes and when he was done, he went upstairs, exhausted, excited and hoping his dreams wouldn't collapse even before he had the chance to taste what it felt like to make them true.

Burt cried when he saw the name of the place. Kurt hadn't mentioned anything because he wasn't sure what his father would think, but he certainly wasn't expecting the tears falling down his face and the way he squeezed his shoulder, almost making Kurt's knees give in.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked, when he couldn't stand the silence anymore, voice a little shaky.

Burt sniffed and cleared his throat. "She'd love it, kiddo. She'd be so proud of you…"

Kurt managed to form a watery smile. "I hope so." He paused for a moment, letting the emotion sink in and allowing himself to calm down. "Well, would you like to be my first customer or not? I thought that was why you came all the way over here…"

"Of course. Come on, give me your best cup of coffee and one of those muffin things…"

Kurt flipped the sign on the door to open before walking to the counter and giving his dad what he'd ordered. Burt insisted on paying even though Kurt didn't want him to, but accepted a second cup of coffee for free when Kurt frowned at him, displeased.

A few customers came in while his dad was still there and Kurt nervously got them their orders and smiled at them brightly when they asked if the place was new because they hadn't seen it before. The bakery was ideally situated, right in the main part of town. The relatively small building seemed lost between the other larger buildings around, but he loved it. It reminded him of the house on Stuart Littlehe had liked so much when he was a kid.

After an hour or so, Burt had to leave. "I promised Finn I'd be back at the shop before his lunch break."

"Okay, but don't rush and drive safely, okay? You want something else? Water? Tea?" Kurt asked nervously, fixing the scarf around his father's neck.

"Kiddo, I'm fine, stop it," Burt laughed, enveloping him in a hug. "I'll be back with Carole as soon as she has a day off. She was really upset she couldn't come in with me today."

"Oh! That reminds me!" Kurt went behind the counter to retrieve a paper bag. "I made one of my sandwiches for Finn and one of those little apple pies Carole loves so much. Could you give these to them?"

Burt grabbed the bag. "Of course. I'll have to hide the pie from Finn, but I'll do my best to get it to Carole."

Kurt walked him outside, looking up at the darkening sky. It looked like it was about to start raining soon. "Are you sure you want to drive in this weather?"

"I have to get back to the shop."

"I could drive you…"

"Kurt," Burt looked at him pointedly. "This is the opening day of your first business. You are not closing to take your old man back to work when he can drive perfectly fine himself."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay, but… just call me when you get there, please?"

With a tired sigh, Burt kissed his forehead. "I will, kiddo." He climbed in the driver's seat of his truck and lowered the window to talk to his son. "Congratulations, Kurt. I'm proud of you."

Kurt's smile was bigger than Burt had ever seen it. "Thank you, Dad."

He watched the car until it was lost in the distance, before he turned around and went back into the store.

It wasn't normal for Blaine Anderson to zone out, but for some reason, he had that day. Being snapped out of it by his father dropping a heavy file in front of him on top of the shiny mahogany conference table wasn't the best way to come back to reality.

"Are you even listening?" Walter Anderson quirked an eyebrow severely at his son, looking down at him with cold, hazel eyes.

Blaine blinked and cursed himself internally, before sitting up straighter. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry."

The conference room was silent. There were a dozen co-workers sitting around the large table with them and the awkwardness in the air was almost palpable. Someone coughed, there was the almost imperceptible sound of a coffee cup being gently settled onto its saucer, Blaine glanced around trying to hide how uncomfortable he felt.

"Then could you please tell me what information you have about the company you've been investigating?" Walter asked, still looking down at him as if he was watching a little kid who had made a mess of his Sunday clothes ten minutes before they were supposed to leave for church. He extended a hand, sighing impatiently.

Blaine started frantically looking through a folder he had brought to the meeting, to gather all the files he had printed the previous day, but apparently he wasn't fast enough for his father's taste.

"The meeting is over, everyone," he announced with an inexpressive voice.

Blaine froze as he heard the rush of steps signaling people trying to get out of the conference room as fast as possible. He thought he heard one of the secretaries mumbling something that sounded a lot like he always treats his son as if he were nothing but garbage.

Blaine hated that. Not the fact that Walter Anderson was far from being the loving father most boys would want to have, but the fact that he knew people in the office talked about it. He knew everyone watched them, followed the way his Dad always expected him to screw up. He knew everyone felt bad for him, but he didn't want their pity. He was used to this. It would never change.

"Did you do what I asked you?" Walter asked, still cold, maintaining the distance. There was never a casual squeeze of the shoulder or a gentle smile. There weren't any encouraging words or paternal praise.

"Of course I did, Dad, I just…" Blaine started saying, sighing.

"Well, it doesn't look like it."

Blaine's eyes locked with his. They looked the same, at a glance, but Blaine's had always been warmer, a lot more honest and, unfortunately for him, a lot more transparent, which caused people to see right through him when he was feeling something particularly intense. It didn't help him protect himself from his father. Being an open book had only gotten him into trouble in his life.

But what he hated the most was feeling that he had to protect himself from the man who was supposed to love him unconditionally.

"I'm sorry I got distracted. It won't happen again," Blaine muttered, avoiding his father's glance, concentrating on locating the documents he had been looking for. He extended the papers to his father, who took them without ceremony and started scanning them quickly.

"You'd better not. If you want to earn the right to be promoted to partner you have to stop acting like a spoiled child, Blaine." Walter walked towards the window as he studied the documents. "And work harder. This is poorly developed. Just because you're my son it doesn't mean you can be lazy and expect good things to rain on you."

Blaine felt the anger curling in his stomach, making his fingers tingle as if they were trying to close and form fists. He should be used to this. Why did he still care what he had to say? His father made sure he told him every single day what a disappointment Blaine was. After so many years, one would think the effect would have worn off, but it was still there and it hurt today as badly as the first time.

A few seconds later, the file Blaine had spent an entire week working on, the file that had kept him up all night during the weekend, the one he had read a thousand times to make sure it didn't have any mistakes, was dropped in front of him on the table with a dull thump.

"Rewrite this whole thing and give it back to me by tomorrow noon," Walter said, not even sparing a second glance at him before he left the conference room.

With a sigh of frustration, Blaine let his face fall into his hands. In moments like this, hatred filled him like a poison. And it wasn't even hatred for his father. It was hatred for himself.

Why couldn't he just tell Walter to fuck off? Why did he have that annoying need to try pleasing people he knew he'd never please? His father was a lost cause, his entire family was, and it had been like that since he had come out.

He knew that if he wasn't gay at least his mother would have intervened for him. He'd still be her baby. But Amanda Anderson was disgusted by him and Blaine could see it in her face every time they were together. He felt so absolutely unloved and alone in his life, it caused a constant pain in his chest. He had been naïve enough to think he could make them change their minds. He had been stupid enough to believe that if he showed them how much he cared about them, and how important it was for him to be accepted by them, his parents would love him back.

Unable to stay in that suffocating conference room for one more minute, Blaine got up suddenly and gathered his things. He walked down the hallway to his office, ignoring the whispers inevitably reaching his ears. There were always whispers. People were always talking. He pushed open the door with the bronze plaque that read Blaine Anderson, Attorney at Law and closed it behind him, resisting the urge to slam it shut. He dropped the folders and files he was carrying on his desk and started pacing restlessly around the room, taking deep breaths and forcing himself to calm down, but feeling it was impossible.

His hazel eyes fell on the clock on his desk and he realized it was past lunch time. He needed an excuse, and he was going to take whatever he could find. He grabbed his coat and his scarf from the hook behind the door and put them on.

His secretary approached him as soon as he opened the door again. "Mr. Anderson! Would you like me to order your lunch? That place around the corner is making the chicken you-…"

"No, thank you, Lucy, I'm going out for lunch," Blaine answered, without stopping. She said something else, but he wasn't listening anymore. He needed to get the hell out of there.

He got on the elevator and impatiently waited for it to take him twelve floors down to the lobby. Only when he got out of the building and he felt his clothes getting instantly damp did he notice it was raining. He cursed his bad luck and considered going back inside, but facing the rain was preferable to going back to the proximity of his father, so he hunched his shoulders and began to walk.

Blaine didn't feel like walking in the rain for too long, though, so he looked around for something to catch his eye. There was a place he hadn't seen before, so he assumed it was new. He couldn't see it clearly from where he was standing, but he saw a glimpse of tables and chairs, so it would do. He wasn't very hungry anyway, he just needed to escape for a while.

He crossed the street quickly, avoiding the cars coming and going on the slippery pavement and pushed the glass door open, shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the water dripping into his eyes. It was incredible how wet he had gotten in just the short time he had been in the rain. It was falling hard and, one quick glance at the sky told him it wasn't going to stop any time soon.

"Oh, whoa, how brave of you to venture out in this weather!" A voice came from the other side of the room and Blaine turned his head around to see a man quickly approaching him from behind the counter.

It took him a few seconds to really see him, but once he did… it felt as if all the air in his lungs had been sucked right out of him. The most gorgeous eyes he had seen in his life gazed back at him and he tried to figure out how it was possible to have eyes with so many colors in them at the same time. He was wearing tasteful, clearly expensive clothes enhanced by the delightful paleness of his skin. The red sweater hung on him as if it had been made to be worn by him, fitting delicately around his slim waist and broad, yet delicate, shoulders. It was loose and it looked soft at the touch, giving Blaine the urge to reach out and test that theory. The dark jeans were really skinny and were tucked into black boots. Blaine had never seen a man dressed like that and he loved it. His chestnut hair was perfectly coiffed and Blaine realized that he was looking at the most stunning man he had ever seen in his life.

And then Blaine noticed his pink, beautiful lips were moving, so he forced himself to pay attention.

"… sit down and I can get you a towel, if you want?" The blue-gray-green eyes were looking at him with a gentle glow and Blaine was still trying to get back some of the air he had lost at the sight of him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, thanks," he managed to mumble. When the other man pointed at one of the tables, he walked there and sat down, thankful that the chairs didn't have any cushions on them because he was still dripping wet.

He looked around as the man searched around in the room that he assumed was the kitchen. The place was cute but it was instantly obvious it wasn't a restaurant. The sign on the wall behind the counter with the words Ellie's Bakery confirmed it. The glass displays on the opposite side of the room were full of delicious looking cupcakes, pies and cakes and two big jars on the counter were filled with two different kinds of cookies.

Before he had the chance to take in more details, his host was back, carrying a fluffy, white towel.

"Here," he said with a kind smile, extending it to him. Blaine stood up and accepted it immediately.

"Thank you so much," Blaine answered in what he hoped wasn't a bitter voice. He still hadn't shaken off the vestiges of his annoyance and he desperately needed to. "Is this place new? I work in that building over there and it's the first time I've seen it…"

"Today's the opening day, actually," the man sighed as he looked out the window. "Clearly not my lucky day…"

"Uh, yeah, I don't think you'll be getting a lot of customers with this weather," Blaine stripped out of his coat and scarf, grateful that his black suit had remained untouched by the water, and toweled his hair, glad he had gel in his desk drawer back at his office. He knew his curls must've broken free and he probably looked like a mess. "It's a shame, this place is really nice."

"Thank you!" The man's excitement was evident and he gave Blaine a big grin. "I guess there will be plenty of better days."

"I'm sure there will," Blaine finished drying himself and stood awkwardly, with the towel still in his hands. "Thanks for this."

"No problem," he took it back from Blaine, still grinning. "Can I get you anything else?"

It was amazing how contagious the man's smile was. Blaine felt a smile of his own trying to tug at his lips. "What would you recommend?"

"Oh, well, I spent a particularly long time with the apple pies," he replied and Blaine felt another tug, this time somewhere in his stomach, that caused him to follow the man across the room to where the displayers with the pies were. "But I'm also quite proud of that blueberry cheesecake," he added, pointing it out.

Blaine felt his mouth watering. "Everything looks so great…"

"Thanks," the man smiled once again and he really, really needed to stop doing that because Blaine wasn't sure he could take any mire. Blaine was silent for what it seemed a whole minute before he turned around to look at him with narrowed eyes. "You wanted something for lunch, didn't you? You're too polite to tell me you came in here because it was raining too hard and that you actually don't want any deserts right now."

Blaine laughed. It was real, clear laughter, and he wasn't sure he had laughed like that in a while. He wasn't sure why he was doing it now, either. "Well, yes, my intention was to have lunch, but I'll be fine with a piece of that blueberry cheesecake, don't worry."

The man narrowed his eyes even more, as if he were calculating. "Do you have much time?"

"Time? Time for what?" Blaine asked, confused. When the other didn't answer and just kept looking at him expectantly, he nodded. "Yeah, I should have at least an hour, I guess. Why?"

"Is there any food you don't like?" The man questioned, as he moved towards the door Blaine had guessed was the kitchen.

"Oysters. I eat everything except for oysters and I will never understand why people like them," he answered, moving to stand in front of the counter, still a bit confused. "What are you doing?"

"Take a seat, I'll try to be quick!" The other called from the kitchen.

Unsure, yet curious, Blaine obliged. He went back to his table and sat down, letting himself be distracted by the sounds of the cute guy working on the other side of the wall and the rain falling hard and steady outside.

Something about being here felt nice. It was a different world from the one back at the firm's offices. It was warm and calm inside the little bakery, a clear contrast to the cold, hectic atmosphere constantly charged with stress, tension and the noises of phones ringing and people coming and going back at Anderson and Wallace.

He sighed as he let his eyes fix on the window of the building across the street that he knew belonged to his father's office. He felt so tired, suddenly…

"Would you like something to drink?" The man's voice interrupted his thoughts and startled him. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were… sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine. Sorry. I was distracted," Blaine smiled. Twice in a day. That wasn't usual for him. He always forced his mind to focus as expected of him… for what? For more criticism? More mocking from his father? "What did you say?"

"Would like something to drink?" He tried again. "Water? Juice? Coffee?"

"A coffee would be great, thanks," Blaine answered, thinking it would help him shake off whatever was wrong with him today.

"Coming right up," the man turned around and went behind the counter, to the huge coffee machine he had there. "Your food will be out in ten minutes, give or take a few, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, but… what…?" Blaine stared at him confused as he poured coffee into a paper cup.

"Ah, it's a surprise!" He returned and put the steaming coffee in front of Blaine on the table.

"I… okay," Blaine had never been to a place like this and he had most certainly never met a man like this. "Can I… can I ask you a question?" He said before he could stop himself. The man nodded. "What's your name?"

He needed a name to attach to that perfect face. A creature as astounding like the one standing in front of him couldn't just be anonymous.

With another grin, the man answered: "Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine repeated and although it wasn't a name he hadn't heard before, it sounded absolutely magical right now. "I'm Blaine."

"Nice to meet you, Blaine," Kurt replied happily.

Blaine tried to find something clever to say, but apparently he wasn't the only one brave enough (or stupid enough) to go out in the rain, because the door opened and an older lady came in.

Kurt directed him one last smile before walking back to the counter, where the woman was carefully studying the variety of cakes and immediately started asking Kurt questions, saying she needed some baked goods for her tea party that same afternoon.

Kurt's voice was soothing, Blaine realized as he vaguely listened to their conversation. He could already feel the vestiges of his anger and his frustration melting away. The atmosphere inside the little bakery also helped: the smell of delicious food, the warmth coming from the kitchen, the large windows that made him feel as if he was still outside with the rain but with the safety of a roof above his head.

Kurt put half a dozen cupcakes in a box with the store's logo and gave it to the lady, who smiled her thanks and left, holding a huge blue umbrella to shelter herself from the water. Instead of coming back to Blaine's table, Kurt went into the kitchen.

Blaine sipped his coffee, letting his mind wander back to the file he had left on his desk. His father had him researching the suing company for their latest case and Walter was hoping Blaine could find something dirty to take them down, but as far as Blaine could tell, there was nothing out of place. He didn't know what else to do to keep his father appeased. It didn't matter how hard he worked, Walter always found a flaw.

A plate was placed in front of him and the tempting smell made him look down.

"Cheese, ham and ciboulette Panini," Kurt announced with a little bow. "I hope you like it."

"Oh my God," Blaine's mouth was already watering. "This looks fantastic, Kurt, you really didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," Kurt interrupted with a smile. "And, to be honest, I've been thinking about including a few savory options, but I wasn't sure if I should."

Blaine already had the first bite of Panini in his mouth and was trying not to burn his tongue while chewing. "Mm, welf, youf defifitely fhould."

"Come again?" Kurt asked with an amused expression. Blaine swallowed.

"You definitely should. This is amazing, really."

"Thank you," Kurt said brightly.

"No, thank you," Blaine put his fork down for a moment to look at the man standing right next to him. "It was very nice of you, I mean it. You didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"It wasn't trouble at all," Kurt swayed back and forth on his feet, adorably. "I was bored, actually. This isn't as nearly exciting as I hoped my first day would be."

Blaine chuckled and was about to answer when the door opened again. He didn't miss the enthusiastic flash in Kurt's beautiful eyes when he saw a woman in a suit coming in. It was absolutely precious.

Blaine kept eating as he watched Kurt ring in a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin. His lunch incredibly delicious. He wasn't sure he had tasted something as good as that in his entire life, and his parents had forced him to eat at innumerable restaurants and parties with gourmet chefs.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket and swallowed a bit of Panini before answering his cellphone, too busy glancing at Kurt to check the ID.

"Yeah?"

"Blaine, where are you?" His father's voice said and just like that, all the pressure, all the bitterness came back to him. Blaine slowly put down his fork and pushed the plate away.

"I went out for lunch, I…"

"Well, get back here. We don't have all day," Walter growled moodily. "We have a meeting scheduled for Mrs. Donahue's case."

Shit. Blaine had completely forgotten about that. What was with him today? "Alright, I'll be there in five minutes, I'm just across the street…"

Walter hung up the phone without another word. Blaine took a deep breath as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"Everything alright?" Kurt asked hesitantly, his eyes glancing between Blaine's face and his abandoned lunch.

"Yeah, I just have to go back to work," Blaine sighed. He grabbed his wallet from his other pocket. "You've been really kind, Kurt, thanks a lot."

"It was nothing," Kurt smiled, shrugging adorably. Blaine felt a pinch of sadness. He didn't really want to go back to the office. He would've rather stayed there with Kurt watching the rain all day.

"Believe me, it was something," Blaine put a twenty on the table. "Keep the change."

"I… thanks," Kurt sounded doubtful again as he watched Blaine grab his things. He picked up the dirty dishes and started returning them to the kitchen. Just when Blaine was about to reach to open the door and go back outside into the storm, Kurt turned around quickly. "Cheesecake!" He pretty much yelled.

Blaine looked at him with confusion in his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'll give you a piece of the blueberry cheesecake to go. You paid more than enough and I'd really like someone to try it," Kurt put the plate down and looked for a little box to put the cake in, but Blaine suddenly had a better idea.

"Tomorrow," he murmured. Kurt stopped to glance at him. "I-I can come back tomorrow. For the cheesecake."

Kurt's smile shouldn't have been that bright. "Okay."

Blaine swallowed. Kurt's smile was beautiful. He was beautiful. Everything about him was absolutely beautiful… but he couldn't help feeling he was getting himself into trouble. Because Kurt was the kind of beautiful that could be dangerous. And Blaine's life couldn't fit any more complicated things into it.

Still, he couldn't help but grin back, though not as brightly as Kurt did.