The restaurant’s outer walls were dingy, ancient bricks covered in posters with announcements in Chinese, graffiti, and decades of city grime buildup. Blaine shivered a bit as he walked up; this didn’t look like a place for an international pop sensation to meet a fan he was working on impressing.

Must have fantastic food. Blaine thought as he opened the door. It was the only reason he could think of for sending teenagers into the city for a late lunch.

He wasn’t impressed initially; there were a few mismatched chairs plunked down around decoupage tables, surrounded by shelves hosting scores of Chinese and American foods.  Bamboo screen paintings of chubby Buddha’s lined the available wall space, along with what had to be several very sad attempts at paper-Mache dragon masks. The focal points were the floor-to ceiling windows that displayed the gourmet kitchen. Chefs bustled around, and Blaine could see the beginning hints of condensation gathering around the window panes.

In his looking about the space, he noticed the spiral stair case to his right, “DINE-IN CUSTOMERS” on a garish sign signaling for him to take the climb. Anxiously, he followed the directions, wondering if the second floor would be as kitschy as the first.

It was a drastic change. Incense smoke drifted in heavy tendrils across the lamp-lit dining room. At least, the incense put up a valiant effort to move about the room; the interior resembled a greenhouse more than an actual dining space. Flowering plants hung from the ceiling, climbing vines eased their way over the walls dividing booths, orchids sat calmly as centerpieces, ferns exploded from the walls between bad remakes of Chinese paper screens. Smoke and light fought valiantly to be noticed around greenery; they contributed an air of secrecy and shadows, where things meant to be hidden could remain that way for a moment longer.

So it was perfect for meeting a person in disguise.

What it wasn’t perfect for however, was finding a disguised person. Blaine stood uncomfortably in the dining area, looking about for Kurt or some telltale sign of the singer. He was, of course seeing a lot of green, wondering half-heartedly whether he’d be meeting Poison Ivy and one of the many versions of Bruce Wayne instead of an enigmatic teenage sensation.

Somewhere between deciding to leave the foyer and reaching for his phone to simply text Kurt about his location, Blaine noticed the pamphlet he’d been worrying between his fingers. He took a moment to examine it, skimming the glossy promotion photos and stock information on Kurt. It was all stuff he knew already—Kurt’s birthday, how he got his start, who his producer was, what he had planned for the immediate future—and then, just as he was giving it up as a bad source of information, he noticed a paragraph:

If you’re one of the lucky fans to receive this pamphlet, congratulations! You are about to have a private session with Kurt himself. Please proceed to Muqin Chinese Bistro and Deli to begin; ask for Kaitlin Chu and remember: no flash photography unless specifically cleared with Kurt, Terri Del Monico, or Emma Pillsbury.

Blaine snorted and pulled out his phone. This was the right shop, but having no idea who he was looking for was causing a bit of a problem in getting to his ‘private session’, which really should be renamed, he thought.

A girl about his age stood behind a half closed Dutch door, dressed simply enough he sensed she was an employee of the restaurant.

“Are you Kaitlin?” He asked.

“Depends on who’s asking.” She tossed a curtain of long dark hair over her shoulder and gave Blaine an inspectorial once-over.

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to handle this girl. So she was Kaitlin, of that much he was positive. But what was the best way to let her know about the lunch?

“I’m supposed to meet someone here for lunch?” he explained.

“That’s the general idea behind sit-down restaurants, yes.” She snarked. When he continued to stare blankly at her, she sighed. “Can I get a name, Shellac?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

She huffed impatiently as she turned to the tiny computer mounted to the wall. A moment later, she looked up.

“We don’t have anything for any ‘Anderson’. Is it under someone else’s name?”

“I’m not sure.” he admitted. “I just got told to come here and ask for Kaitlin Chu to get in to lunch.”

“Let me guess, you got this information from some random pamphlet and decided to follow through on the instructions.” She hazarded. Blaine blinked, unsure if she thought she was being snarky or completely serious. Regardless, she and her attitude were directly in the way of Blaine figuring out just what was wrong with Kurt.

“Actually, yeah.” Blaine waved a corner of the pamphlet in her face, enough that she could see the logo for the restaurant, but not to show anything about who he was meeting.

She perked up at that, snatching at the pamphlet as Blaine wiggled it around. Blaine allowed himself a very small, arrogant smile. He knew something this girl didn’t and she was determined to get it out of him. Maybe she’d use his name instead of making up nicknames. His hair wasn’t all that shiny, after all.

“Where’d you get that?” she demanded.

“Someone kind of important gave it to me.” Kind of true. Emma was the publicist to a very well-known teen idol, after all. That had to give her some kind of clout.

The girl made a frustrated noise and held out her hand.

“What?” she demanded when Blaine hesitated. “I can’t take you to the right person if you won’t tell me who you’re meeting. Give me the paper, already.”

He reluctantly handed over the paper; her eyes lit up in recognition as she glanced over it.

“So you’re visiting that one. No wonder you’re acting all crazy. Come around to the left here; I’ll take you to them.”

“Them?” Blaine called as she disappeared through another door. She was waiting as he made short work of rounding the corner.

“He’s got a babysitter now—a bodyguard. I sat them about an hour ago.”

Well. A bodyguard. That could cause problems, couldn’t it? Would they be able to talk the way they had last time they were alone?

Did Kurt even want to talk?

“I don’t know what all happened today but he was pissed when he got here.” Kaitlin continued. They walked past a row of booths until they came upon a partition. She rapped smartly on the wood paneling before calling “You got company, Nori!” and sliding open the screen.

Inside was Kurt, dressed plainly by his standards; jean shorts and a nondescript polo. The only way Blaine would have recognized him was by the annoyance in his voice as he reprimanded Kaitlin for making so much noise coming into the room.

“You don’t like the way I open the door? Fine. Maybe you can find another place that won’t blab from here to kingdom come your favorite place to have under-the-table lunches. Are there any of those?”

“No.” Kurt said begrudgingly.

“Exactly. So you’ll just have to deal, chiangbae. Now, here’s your fan; try and keep this one quiet. The Hightowers are here.”

“Again?” Kurt sent a glare through the paper screen to his right; Blaine could only assume the Hightowers were seated in another well-hidden alcove.

“Every Wednesday. They’re about the only constant thing about this place.” She stopped talking and surveyed the little group: pop star, bodyguard, and the mildly panicked fan. “I’ll leave the three of you to it, then.”

And with that, she backed out of the room, leaving Blaine standing awkwardly as the screen shut with a quiet click.

“Don’t just stand there.” Kurt gestured absently at the chairs closest to Blaine. He sat, watching anxiously when Kurt pulled out his phone and began fiddling with the screen.

Minutes passed, no one speaking. Kurt kept connected to the LED screen; the bodyguard alternated between watching Blaine intently and glancing at the paper screen and varied shrubbery; Blaine fidgeted. Bodyguard made him nervous, staring as if he were waiting on Blaine to release his inner psycho and go after Kurt with a flame thrower. Kurt’s ignoring him made him worry; if Kurt didn’t want to talk with him, why didn’t he make an excuse to cut the lunch short? Or had food ready and waiting when Blaine arrived, so they didn’t have to order entrees and then wait for them to cook. Actually—

Blaine looked at the table. Apart from the glasses of water and centerpiece, it was bare.

“Are we going to order anything?” he ventured. Kurt looked up, annoyance playing across his features. Blaine allowed his eyes to wander to where his eyes played with the edge of the table.

“There’re no menus.” He muttered. Kurt’s eyes flashed in a way Blaine couldn’t quite identify before he spoke.

“He’s right. Carl, can you go ask for some menus?”

“I’m not supposed to—”

“Well, I can’t go out there, and Terri told me to play host to Blake—”

“Blaine.” he corrected, still slightly confused.

“Blair here. So he can’t leave, either. You’re the only logical choice.”

Carl still wasn’t sold. Kurt sighed, put down his phone, and looked Carl square in the eye.

“We’re on the second floor of a Chinese restaurant not even two blocks from the local precinct. And Blaine’s Jake’s little brother. What’s the worst he could possibly get up to?”

Carl sized Blaine up one more time before getting to his feet.

“I’ll only be a second then. And I’ll know if you get up to anything.” He warned.

As soon as the door slid shut Kurt was on his feet, muttering “Oh god, finally” as he moved to a potted tree next to the booth. He shoved it out of the way, revealing a window that he promptly opened and threw a leg out before looking back at Blaine.

“Are you coming?”

“What?” this was completely out of left field, based on the way Kurt had behaved every time Blaine had seen him that day.

“We’ve got about twenty-seven seconds to get down the fire escape and lost in a crowd before Carl comes back. Are you staying or going?”

Blaine hesitated. He wasn’t used to second-guessing people, especially not people he believed to be his friends. But it never hurt to be careful when they threw him for loops more than once every couple of weeks. Not being wary then was what hurt.

“You’re confused; I know. But if you’d come on, I’ll explain. I promise.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t get up to anything here.” Blaine said, standing and meeting Kurt at the window.

“No, I said you couldn’t get up to anything. And you couldn’t have; not without me to show you how to get up to things. I’ll make sure Terri doesn’t try and have you arrested for kidnapping, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That did clear up a sizeable worry. And Kurt explaining just what the hell his logic had been would hopefully clear up the rest. What was the worst that could happen?

Kurt held out his hand.

“Please?”

“Since you asked politely.” Blaine smiled cautiously, placing his hand in Kurt’s. “For a couple hours there I was sure you’d forgotten your manners.”

“Har-dee-har.” Kurt pulled him through the window and shut it once Blaine was clear. “Now let’s get out of here before he notices I gave him the slip.”

With an exaggerated bow Blaine allowed Kurt past him. They clambered down the fire escape and into the alley.

As they darted into the crowd, Blaine felt another hand wrap securely around his, tugging him toward the subway.

Perhaps his Wednesday would end on a better note than he’d planned.