As part of the bit, the radio station was paying for Kurt and Blaine's second date. All they had to do was report back the next week on how it all went.

Kurt felt a little strange about the whole thing. It seemed odd that his love life, which for so long had been something that most people wanted him to hide away, like a dirty secret, was now being used for drive-time entertainment and that his story was being treated the same as the man and woman whose first date had gone awry when she'd insisted on live tweeting every second of the evening.

Their "retake" was set up for the following Saturday, so at least he only had three days to stress over how it would go. They were meeting at a nice restaurant in the Meat Packing district and then would probably just go for a stroll, depending on the weather. It wasn't very original, but Kurt had thought that boring and predictable might just be what they needed.

Saturday arrived and Kurt spent a good part of the early afternoon standing in front of his closet. What did one wear to try and drive home the fact that one was not into BDSM? He immediately rejected any items with straps or buckles and sadly set his favorite calf-high boots aside also (he never realized how many bondagesque items were in his wardrobe). Finally, he decided on a printed button-down shirt, simple lightweight jacket, and his loosest pair of pants (which were not loose at all, really). He couldn't help adding a broach at the last minute, but bypassed all of the death-themed pins in favor of a little wooden sailing ship.

After promising to give Rachel a full update as soon as he got home and emptying his pockets of the pile of condoms and travel-sized lube packets that Santana had slipped into them while he wasn't looking, Kurt headed out. He got to the restaurant early and set about pacing back-and-forth outside the door, sure that at any moment he was going to get a call from Blaine saying that he couldn't make it after all.

After awhile, Kurt decided to go inside and sit at the bar to wait. He was nursing a Malibu rum and pineapple juice and checking his watch for about the twentieth time when he saw Blaine come in the front door. God, he was even cuter than Kurt remembered.

Blaine looked around the room, nervously straightening his bow tie, until he spotted Kurt. He smiled and the knot in Kurt's stomach lessened just a bit. He abandoned his drink and went over to greet him. They were both formal and overly polite, the ease in each other's company that they'd had at the dance club lost under the weight of misunderstandings and embarrassment.

They were shown to their table and immediately picked up their menus, holding them up as shields as they struggled to find a way to break the silence. They ordered and both ended up looking forlornly after the waiter as he carried the protective menus away.

Kurt kept sliding his hand into his pocket as they sat there and he could tell from the tiny flicks of Blaine's eyes that he'd caught the movement. Finally he just committed and pulled the little wrapped package out and set it on the table by Blaine's plate.

"For you."

Blaine looked confused, but picked the small box up and tore away the blue striped paper. It opened to reveal a black and red night mask. Pinned to it with a giant safety pin was a handwritten note reading "For sleeping only" with "sleeping" underlined three times. Beneath the mask were two photos, one showing actors on a stage wearing the rubber garments that he'd found in Kurt's closet and another showing a group of men standing in front of a backdrop wearing the masks and brightly colored straight-jackets.

Blaine picked up the mask as he began to laugh and Kurt followed close behind.

"I know you said you believed me, but I thought you might need some proof. Rachel's right, I do need to go find another theater company to work for. At least this production actually had something that could reasonably be called costumes. For the last one I had to design fourteen unique modesty socks and G-strings. Who knows what you would have thought if you'd seen those in the closet."

"I can't apologize enough for running out on you like that. It's just that I haven't had the best luck with guys and when I saw what I thought I saw in your closet I just bolted. I almost turned back, though. I liked you so much and was so attracted to you, but a friend of mine had just forced me to watch that 50 Shades of Grey movie and I was a little traumatized."

"That movie would scar anyone for life," Kurt shuddered in distaste. "At least they didn't make you read the book. Studies have shown that reading things that poorly written actually reduce the IQ significantly." He hesitated before continuing and tore a piece of bread off and dipped it in the oil and vinegar the waiter had poured for them in order to give himself something to focus on other than Blaine's enthralling eyes. "I do wish you'd waited and at least talked to me though. I came back and the apartment was just empty. I-I thought I'd done something wrong or that you'd realized that you'd made some horrible drunken mistake."

Blaine grabbed his other hand and squeezed it tightly. "No. God, no. I'm so sorry for ever making you feel that way. Let's make a pact. Let's promise to be totally honest with each other as long as this," he waved a hand between them, "lasts. Whether it's just tonight or for who knows how long."

Oh, please let it be for longer than just one night. "I do believe you've got yourself a deal."

They talked over lobster ravioli and shrimp risotto, finding that they had much in common. They were both entertainers; Kurt was an actor as well as a costume designer and Blaine was a jingle singer and voice actor who had worked mostly in commercials. They'd grown up in the same state, so they had similar experiences of life as out gay teenagers. They held similar views on relationships, family, and what they had to achieve in life to consider themselves successful.

The long early summer days meant that it was still light out by the time they finished eating, so they decided to climb up to the Highline to take a walk. Kurt squirmed happily when Blaine bought them each an ice cream sandwiches at one of the little food carts (Kurt picked brown sugar cookies and bourbon ice cream. Was it possible to be in love with food?) and playfully held his sandwich out of reach when Blaine asked to try a bite of his flavor.

The continued along the converted railway tracks, enjoying the flowers and greenery that made the city below them seem very far away and stopping every once and a while to look out on the buildings, that looked to very different from that perspective.

"So, tell me about Rachel" Blaine said as they stopped to sit on a wooden bench tucked down an offshoot of the main path. "She seemed to know you really well."

"Ah, Rachel." Kurt crossed his legs and settled his folded hands around his knee as he leaned back. "She and Santana — she didn't talk to the DJs, but she was there — are my best friends. We've known each other since high school and were roommates during college. They have their own places now, but you'd never know it given how often they just show up at my apartment unannounced. Santana doesn't know the meaning of privacy or boundaries and Rachel thinks she's some kind of relationship expert since she's had the same boyfriend for a year. They're both a little insane."

"Well, I do believe they are my two new favorite people."

"Don't let them hear you say that," Kurt groaned. "They'll be insufferable."

"They called the radio station, right? Would you have called me on your own?"

"No," Kurt answered honestly.

"Then I can't wait to meet them, because I now consider them my own fairy godmothers." Blaine took Kurt's hand in his and turned it over, tracing the lines of his palm with a fingertip.

Kurt flushed happily at Blaine's assumption that he would get the opportunity to meet them. "So does that mean we're going to see each other again?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easily. I've never had an interesting response to the 'and how did you guys meet?' question before. Now that I do, I plan on telling it for years to come."

Kurt curled his fingers up to encircle Blaine's finger. "Can we at least change the details to say that I was going to the store for wine or something when we tell it? I can't be the "condom and lube" guy for the next sixty years."

"I think something could be arranged."