Kurt sighed as he looked up at the clear blue sky. He couldn't believe his luck, his dad had promised him that when he graduated he would have the summer of his life before going away to College. Naturally Kurt had assumed he meant they would have mini days together and they would do things they hadn't been able to when he had been busy studying for his final exams. If you had asked him what his father had meant then; that would have been his answer. In no way would he have expected his father to hand him two tickets to travel to Paris for the summer with his best friend but that is exactly what had happened.

"Gah, can you believe it Tana! We're here for the whole summer. It's Paris, the city of fashion and lovers. It's unbelievable!" Santana cocked her head to the side and looked across at her friend. "City of lovers my ass. I haven't been hit on once yet." She turned up the side of her mouth as she surveyed the area around them almost scowling at everyone walking past them. "Really, Tana? Is that all you're going to think about when we're out here? It's been ten days! You've got the rest of the summer to get your skank on."

Santana shot Kurt a look, as they continued their walk along the busy street, as if to say of course that was all she thought about being in the one city in the world that practically screamed bootybootybooty in all its history. "Oh c'mon, lady-face, we've been out like three nights in a row to at least five different clubs and no-one's even tried to grab my ass! Not even a sleazy guy has offered to buy me a fruity cocktail! I'd tap a mediocre looking female right now. They don't even have to be smoking! That one girl that asked me about my fucking tits and then flounced off with her boy toy! I would have settled for her just playing with the ladies for a bit right now!"

Kurt sighed, again, as his friend went on her tirade. After three years of knowing Santana and just over a year of being her best friend he was used to this. Santana had never exclusively stated that she liked girls but after watching a parade of men and women leave Santana once they realised she didn't 'do' long term Kurt had come to the realisation that Santana always seemed happier when she had someone of the female persuasion in her bed the night before.

"Like I said, Tana, the whole summer left!" Santana quirked her left eyebrow up and squinted her eyes at Kurt. "How many clubs you think we can hit in that time?" Her question was followed with a hopeful smirk. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe clubs are the wrong place to be looking. You never know. You might wander into a supermarket one day, reach for the last vial of virgin blood, or whatever you she-devils drink, and boom soul mate. Right there." Kurt let out a wistful puff of air as he turned to smile at his friend.

"Oh Hummel poor, deluded, Hummel. I don't want a soul mate. I want someone that will work out all my kinks so loudly that you leave the apartment, virginal ears blushing, after learning words you never knew existed."

Shaking his head he carried on walking down the street, letting his friend catch up with him, he knew better than to harp on about his romantic tendencies to Santana. He knew she would settle down once she did meet the right... one. For her. After their friendship had blossomed he had learnt that most of Santana's bravado was an act. She was passionate, loyal and caring and he knew the right person would discover that as well but of course he knew better than to get mushy around Santana.

Kurt did notice that his stomach felt a bit empty at the time, though. He spotted a small restaurant across the road from where they were. "Hey, Tana, mind out of the gutter. Fancy lunch?"

"Why not? Maybe I'll meet my soul mate over tacky French table clothes!" She clasped her hands to the side of her face and made kissing noises at her friend as Kurt sighed, pulled her arm through his and pushed her to cross the road, careful of the bikes and cars, sometimes he wondered why he put up with her...

They made their way over to the small restaurant on the corner and saw there were a few small tables outside kept under cover by burgundy parasols. Kurt had rather fair skin so he burnt quite easily and, clearly, Santana had thought about this as she dragged him inside and found that the inside was decorated quite similarly, minus the parasols, there were a few worn leather chairs around small coffee tables and dark wooden chairs situated around rounded tables. It didn't look too expensive but Kurt wasn't worried, for once, about prices as his dad and step-mom had given him quite a bit of money and Santana's parents had done the same. Although Kurt was pretty sure they had only done it because they were glad she wouldn't be around for the summer. He knew Santana loved his own parents because she spent so much time as his house but he always wondered if there was more to the reason she always looked put out when it was time to go home... Kurt mentally shook his head and directed Santana to a table in the corner, they were in his dream city and he wanted to enjoy himself not dwell on sad things from back home.

Santana let Kurt direct her toward the corner but quickly veered off to the bar at the side not only seeing several empty barstools but a particularly pretty waitress standing behind said bar cleaning glasses. The waitress was wearing a, buttoned to the neck, white blouse with a black waistcoat, a skinny black tie and a short black skirt showing off a very toned pair of legs. Santana automatically smirked as images popped into her head as to what she could do with that tie and said waitress. "Ooh, come to mama! C'mon Hummel. I think I've found a great spot!

Santana hopped onto a stool at the end of the bar as Kurt slid onto the one next to her and rolled his eyes as the bartender came over and addressed them in French. "Welcome! What can I get you two today?" Santana had done well enough in her French in High School to be able to speak conversational French, which was one of the many reasons Kurt had asked her to come with him this Summer, he had chosen to concentrate on his social studies rather than choose a language.

"Hi, er, bonjour ma fille magnifique! We need-" She stopped to looked over at Kurt trying to remember the exact translation, "some menus and, um, water?" Kurt nodded at his friend and Santana turned back to the waitress "Here we go. Un menu et deux verres d'eau?"

The blonde waitress suddenly grinned at the two and she replied in perfect English. "Oh wow! American, right? You came into the right place! It's so rare I get to speak English these days. I'm Quinn." She held out her hand to Santana who smiled, flirtatiously, back at her and she immediately took the waitresses hand and turned it over to place a small kiss on the back of it. Kurt snorted slightly and smiled across the bar at Quinn.

"I'm Kurt and this-" He gestured at Santana as Quinn blushed and took her hand back "is Santana. We're from Ohio." Quinn shyly nodded at Santana and turned to Kurt "Oh! I'm from Westerville! Are you close by? Have you moved here?" Santana took her over the conversation as she answered Quinn's questioned. "Oh no, we're just here for the summer. We wanted to get the complete French-" she looked Quinn up and down and bit her bottom lip "experience. And we're actually down in Lima. Just a few hours away from Westerville."

Kurt coughed at Santana's obvious nature. "Yeah, just a vacation. Graduation present! But, you, you must live here? Right?" "Oh yeah. I'm just here for Uni. I'm at Yale actually, but I took a year out to live here. I've always wanted to and my scholarship allowed it. I just work here to keep up with the bills actually."Quinn laughed slightly as Kurt nodded in understanding.

Just then an olive skinned man dressed in the same uniform as Quinn, minus the skirt, came through a door behind the bar holding a few wine glasses and with a towel draped over his left shoulder. His hair looked like it had been tamed into submission with an awful lot of gel but the humidity of the kitchen made a few curls spring out of place. He had a very strong jaw and broad shoulders. Kurt could clearly see his distinguished back muscles through his thin white shirt. He didn't look up at Quinn with the others at the bar but he began to wipe the wine glasses of their excess condensation and place them on the rack that was underneath the counter at the back of the bar. Kurt's gaze immediately went to his backside and felt himself wistful at the fact his pants weren't as tight at Kurt's own. He could see that the man had a very nice ass but wished he could tell the definition of it clearer as every time he bent down to place another glass Kurt was treated to another view of it outlining his it's clear roundness. Oh, oo la la. Viva la France! Kurt was in very limited company back in Ohio so he took his chance to oogle this strangers behind. His thoughts were interrupted by Quinn's raised voice.

"Oh, Blaine! Come and meet two fellow Ohio dwellers here!"