Kurt couldn't believe he was actually sinking to this level. He supposed his discomfort had less to do with his history with this particular franchise and more to do with his self-proclaimed status as a fabulous fashionista, but really. He could feel the heavy gaze of his idols judging him from whatever successful position they were currently in. He had tried to find ways out of it for weeks, but now that it was the summertime, his short hours at his dad's shop simply wouldn't cut it for his wardrobe budget, and asking his dad for more money was out of the question. He and Carole had started re-saving for their honeymoon, and Kurt more than anything wanted them to have that to themselves. Still, he could get this job. It wasn't as if he was on the never-hire list. It wasn't as if he had been completely banned from a similar establishment, two hours away. It wasn't as if he had roped his school's glee club into serenading a junior manager at the store's Westerville location.

Kurt sighed, resigned, and entered the store with a large Now Hiring! sign above the door.

Despite his nerves, Kurt knew he aced the interview. He knew clothes better than any person in Lima, and despite his initial horror while scanning nearby job openings, he had done his research on the styles that the franchise deemed "in." He got the call as he was parking his car in the driveway.

Kurt made his way quickly through his home and into his room. He smiled at the familiar Dior grey, and began to laugh quietly. He had a job at the GAP.

Thank goodness Blaine was neck-deep in rehearsals and could talk of little else. The bruises of last week were fading to an oddly pinkish color, and yesterday, he had mentioned shyly that it was okay if Kurt had better things to do than drive his boyfriend to and from rehearsals. His parents were back from their latest business trip, and had offered to take over. At first, Kurt had refused, saying that he was happy to, but Blaine had looked pointedly at Kurt's outfit – one he'd worn already that week – and Kurt had been forced to take his offer, though probably not in quite the way Blaine would have liked. He wasn't going to lie . . . precisely . . . because he and Blaine never lied to each other, but he didn't have to offer up the information on a silver platter, now, did he? Besides, Kurt had applied for the perfect shift. The one that assured him that Blaine wouldn't accidentally walk into said GAP while Kurt was working.

That was the plan, anyway.

It was only Kurt's fourth day of work. He'd completed the training day and was adjusting quite easily to taking orders from – Kurt smirked – a junior manager. The guy, Toby, was a completely competent administrator, though he lacked Kurt's fashion expertise. Then again, Kurt rationalized, so did just about everyone else. Therefore, Kurt couldn't help offering comments to the clearly idiotic shoppers.

"No," he said to one. "Those two colors don't go together. Try it in green." Said customer looked disgruntled, but humored him, and eventually bought the green sweater. Not all advice was taken as well as that, though most did, and Kurt could feel his superior eyeing him appreciatively. Kurt felt pretty solid about his job performance.

That being said, Kurt didn't try to overdo it. The comments were mere instinct after many, many sleepovers with the girls and what Kurt helpfully called "cleanses" of Blaine's and Carole's wardrobes. After all, it was just the GAP, and his customers didn't need to know how atrocious their choices were. He just steered them away from the completely awful and toward the more tolerable.

Kurt had been doing just that on his second day, when he heard some familiar voices approaching.

"Man, I can't believe we still have to drive all the way to Lima just to get some decent jeans."

"They're bound to forget eventually."

"How? How could anyone possibly forget that? I did backflips, Wes. Backflips."

"That, and there was something distinctively. . ."

"I like my toys just where they are, thank you very much."

Snickering. Kurt ran for it. Ducking behind the junior miss section, Kurt spied three – no, four – Warblers meandering around the store. Kurt checked again. No, three Warblers and another boy he didn't recognize. The boy in question's eyebrows came together before a confident smirk made its way across his face.

"Wait, he didn't. Not When I Get You Alone?"

"You know the song?"

"I love the song." The three Warblers – Thad, Wes, and David – shared a look at that response.

"I think you'll like him once you meet him. He's got a great voice and can establish a rapport with the audience really easily. He met his boyfriend, Kurt, that way."

"We should all get together soon. Blaine sounds awesome." Kurt bristled, torn between coming out from behind the rack of summer dresses and keeping his occupation hidden. The way the other boy – a new Dalton student, from the looks of things – talked about Blaine rubbed him the wrong way. Before he could make his decision, he saw movement in his periphery.

"Kurt, why are you hiding?" Jean, an employee hired a month or so before Kurt, crouched down next to him. Kurt whipped around so quickly his neck made an odd noise.

"I know those guys. I used to go to school with them." Jean looked confused. She, like the other employees here, didn't know anything about Kurt's life outside of his job. "They can't know I work here. It's an old joke." Jean's forehead relaxed, and she nodded conspiratorially.

"It's nearly time for you to be out of here anyway, I'll cover for you. I'll tell Toby you weren't feeling well or something." Kurt gripped her arm in thanks, beginning to slip towards the doors of the store while Jean stood up, going over to talk to the group of Dalton students about their new sale on Argyle socks. The boys were hooked immediately. Kurt snuck out without much effort, turning and signing a quick thank you to Jean on the way out. She smiled before turning back to her customers.

His phone was ringing as he crossed the parking lot. Grinning at the caller ID, he pressed the phone close to his face.

"Is that Blaine Anderson, the famous actor, calling?" A sigh muffled through the static.

"I knew it."

"What?" Kurt unlocked his car and got in.

"You only love me for my stardom." A little fluttering pooled low in his stomach. Kurt held back a smile.

"Well, yes. But I thought you were okay with that. We talked about this, Blaine. I only go for guys who wear socks."

"You wound me."

"Don't pour gallons of gel in their hair each day?"

"My heart. It bleeds."

"Oh, wait. I've got it. Ones who don't coordinate their overnight bags with their school uniform – wait for it – in the summer."

"That's it. Call an ambulance. Death by sarcastic boyfriend." Kurt pressed a fist to his chin to keep from giggling in a decidedly girly manner.

"I do love you for your stardom, though!"

"But not for anything else."

"Well, that depends. . ."

"Oh?"

"Well, I might have the ingredients for red velvet cheesecake that I've been hiding from my family. If anyone felt like coming and helping me make it, minor transgressions may be ignored in favor of decadent goodness."

"You had me at red velvet."

"I know, darling. You're so easily manipulated."

"That statement is invalid."

"Why?"

"You called me 'darling.'"

"So I did. See you later?"

"Indeed you will! Can I bring my awesome overnight bag?"

"It's a stupid overnight bag."

"I'll take that as a yes. Bye!" Grinning, and completely oblivious, Kurt started the Navigator and headed home.

Four boys, paper bags full of new purchases, watched him go before beginning to fight over who would call Blaine first. Eventually, Thad won. The fourth boy stood a ways from them, staring at the pale boy in the SUV with calculating eyes.

Kurt had the kitchen set up within fifteen minutes, yelling at any who dared come close, even making Finn a sandwich so he would go away. When he decided he couldn't go any further without actually making the cheesecake himself, Kurt hopped upstairs to change into something more baking-friendly.

A knock on the door alerted him to Blaine's presence. Kurt threw on his sage-and-teal apron before heading over and opening it with a dramatic flair.

"Nice apron." Kurt cocked an eyebrow, twirling so that it flared out before stepping aside to let Blaine in.

"Isn't it, though? I got one for you, too." Blaine pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek, hiding a smile.

"It's so much cleaner than the last one I saw you in."

"Okay, that wasn't my fault, I told you," Kurt quipped, taking Blaine's horrible duffel bag and dropping it in the corner of the kitchen. "My dad was trying to make shirred eggs . . . and failed while I was in the same room."

"You were so cute, trying to stop me from dying from eu de badly cooked egg."

"I was trying to impress the hungover boy who'd finally made it to the living room while stopping my father from having another heart attack. Also," Kurt gesticulated with a mixing spoon, "I resent the fact that you don't find me cute all the time." Blaine backed up, hands in the air, grinning madly. Kurt pointed him to a bowl and various tools, and went on. "So, I think we need to establish some ground rules."

Blaine, intent on the egg and the beater he'd picked up, looked over. "Such as?"

"Recreational use of baking ingredients." Blaine snorted.

"I'm not touching your hair, Kurt. I wouldn't dare." He paused. "Unless. . ."

"No. No unless. This is what I'm talking about. Ground rules."

"Isn't one of our ground rules that we tell each other everything?" Kurt felt red velvet-scented lead drop in his stomach. Before he could react, Blaine continued. "For instance, I think you would look adorable with just a little icing on your cheek." Kurt felt the air rush from his lungs as he covered his relief with a superior gaze.

"I disagree. And, as fashion extraordinaire, I think I win." Blaine shrugged, sitting on the counter before beating the eggs on his lap.

"I dunno. I was pretty good at making the GAP work before I was kicked out. Pass the milk?" Kurt blinked at him a few times before complying, breathing steadily.

"Don't use more than a quarter of a cup. It'll turn out mushy otherwise." Blaine nodded, measuring the correct amount out before returning it to the refrigerator. "How did rehearsals go today?"

"Well, I think. Seth lost his capo again, which sucks, because it means he's out of tune the entire time and Wren just has to follow him. Jeff and I were wincing the entire time. Other than that, though. We finally blocked the scene were Viola and Sebastian are reunited and everything ends happily ever after. It was pretty great – watching everyone's shocked faces when Viola reveals her secret." He glanced at Kurt. "I think it's great how forgiving Orsino and is about everything. He's just like, 'oh, you're a girl? Okay, let's get married.'" Blaine pawed at a fading bruise on his cheek. "Anyway, how was your day?"

"Not nearly as exciting. I went to the mall. I think I saw Wes and David and Thad, but I was in a hurry and didn't get to say hello."

"Yeah? That's a shame. How was work?" Blaine asked, his tone light and unassuming.

"Oh, it was f—" Kurt stopped. Blaine, biting back a victorious grin, slipped off the counter, took a fingerful of icing, and smeared it across Kurt's cheek.

"Now, I think that's definitely a great look on you." Kurt took a deep breath, put down the spoon, and said,

"In my defense, I used my discount to get you a bowtie that will go with your silly duffel bag."

"It's an awesome duffel bag."

"Okay." Blaine grinned, pecked Kurt's nose, and went back to beating the eggs. "You're going to win all the arguments today, aren't you?"

"I like how you think you'll only have to grovel today."

"This week?"

"Much better. Now, what were we saying about recreational use of baking ingredients?"

Kurt shoved his hands into his pockets of his apron, giving Blaine a calculating look.

"Do I get to retaliate?"

"Retaliate all you want, dear. Your hair is mine to do with as I will." Blaine picked up an egg and looked between it and the top of Kurt's head , his brow furrowed in concentration.

It took Kurt all of ten seconds to wipe the icing from his face, take his boyfriend by the hips, and press him against the counter, peppering light kisses and nips down his neck.

"Ahh. No fair." Kurt lifted his head slightly to speak directly into his boyfriend's ear.

"I could always stop. You do get to win this week."

"Oh my god," Blaine laughed breathlessly. "You are such a cheater." Kurt smiled, pleased, and continued toward his collarbone, watching as Blaine swallowed roughly.

"Okay, here's the deal. I'll let you win this one," Kurt laved over a particularly nice piece of handiwork in place of a sarcastic retort, satisfied with the little wobble in Blaine's pitch. "If you change your shift so I can come and bother you at work."

Kurt lifted his head, looking at the shorter boy levelly.

"I will not allow you to buy those ridiculous pink sunglasses."

"What about the yellow ones?" Blaine asked hopefully, wiping off a bit of excess icing with the pad of his thumb. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"Fine, but I'm going to make you get some socks."

"No! Not socks!" He pulled Kurt closer to hold him properly, the egg forgotten on the counter. Kurt settled himself against him, his non-sticky cheek pressed against Blaine's ear.

"You're not going to get me fired, are you?"

Blaine squeezed his shoulders in reply.