This was probably the biggest day of Kurt Hummel’s life. He was hurrying down the busy New York streets on his way to his first day as a junior chef in the famed kitchen of Executive Chef Blaine Anderson.

During his last year at Johnson & Whales, he began to hear whispers of this chef – a young guy, probably around Kurt’s age, who was beginning to take the culinary world by storm. He’s eccentric, they said, and incredibly private. His restaurant in New York was funded by some celebrity (who turned out to be the chef’s brother), but the face of Coraggio had always been the Changs, a husband and wife, longtime friends of Chef Anderson. Under their management, and, of course, Chef Anderson’s flawless menu, Coraggio became a huge success. Kurt decided, then, that there was nowhere else he’d rather work. He was going to give New York another chance, forget about NYADA and broken dreams, and make new ones. 

Kurt pushed through the crowd to the subway, barely stumbling through the doors before they closed. His phone buzzed with a message from his father, a “good luck on your first day, I’m so proud of you” text that made him smile but distracted him from hanging on as the train lurched forward. So, naturally, he lurched backward, straight onto the lap of quite possibly the best looking commuter he had ever laid eyes on.

For a short moment, he froze, staring into the gorgeous honey eyes of his new subway seat. He had just taken in the handsome face and short, dark curls when it suddenly occurred to him that he was actually sitting on a stranger.

“Oh my God,” Kurt gasped, jumping up. “Oh my God. I am so sorry!”

The man laughed, a deep chest-rumbling laugh with a smile that made his the skin around his eyes crinkle. “Don’t be sorry. Actually, it was my pleasure.”

Kurt blushed and took the seat next to him. “I’m still sorry. I’m just… distracted today. And very nervous. But really excited. And them my dad texted me and I’m rambling. And… sorry. I ramble when I… yeah. Sorry.”

The man laughed again. It was a sound, Kurt decided, he could listen to forever.

“What’s got you so distracted and nervous and excited, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh,” Kurt squeaked, surprised by the stranger's interest in him. He cleared his throat. “I’m starting a new job today. It is probably, well, hopefully, the start of my career, this job. And I’m… I’m just nervous that I’ll mess up in front of my boss and that would be so embarrassing because he’s like, probably, definitely, the best there is and I really want to make a good impression, you know?”

The man nodded. “And your new job is…?”

“Its… I’m a cook, a junior chef, at Coraggio. Coraggio! I get to work with Chef Anderson!”

“Oh yes, I know the place. It is very good.”

Kurt smiled as the train came to a stop. “Well, this is me.”

“Me, too, actually. Mind if I walk with you?”

Kurt’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

They made their way through the throng of people and up the stairs in weirdly comfortable silence.

“I’m this way,” Kurt gestured towards the right.

“Me, too.” They continued walking.

“Are you really going this way, or are you following me because you think I’m hot?” Kurt asked jokingly. The man barked out another laugh.

“Both.”

Kurt’s smile grew. Could he get any luckier? Starting a new job with the best chef in the world and meeting a gorgeous guy who seemed to really like him? He was definitely getting this guy’s number. Which reminded him,

“Um, I just realized, that even though my ass is, uh, intimately acquainted with your lap,” Kurt winced at his word choice, “I still don’t know your name.”

“Oh, look! Coraggio!” the man exclaimed. Kurt hadn’t even noticed they had arrived at the restaurant. The man opened the door. “Here you go! Good luck!”

Kurt looked at him curiously, mouth agape, and he didn’t move to enter. “But—”

“Go on now. Don’t keep your new, amazing boss waiting!”

“O-ok,” Kurt walked in slowly, turning to speak to the man one last time. But he was gone. Maybe it was too good to be true, he thought. And with a sign, he made his way to the bar.

*********************

“Mrs. Chang?”

“Yes? Oh, hi! You must be Kurt Hummel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My husband spoke very highly of you. You really impressed him.”

“Thank you, Mrs.—”

“Please, call me Tina. We’re all family here at Coraggio.”

“Ok,” Kurt smiled, relaxing a little. So what if the man from the subway totally ditched him, he mentally chastised himself for letting it affect him as much as it had. He was at a five-star restaurant in New York City, for heaven’s sake. He was worlds away from Lima, from Johnson & Whales, from his failed NYADA audition and from not knowing what the hell to do with his life. He knew. He knew. Finally. This was where he was meant to be.

“Follow me, Kurt,” Tina said with a wink. “I’ll get you your whites. But, they aren’t white. Blaine prefers purple.”

“Blaine, as in Chef Anderson?”

“Yes, but don’t call him ‘Chef Anderson’ or he’ll throw a pot holder at you. Alright, this is my office. Mike, my husband, works out of here, too. Let’s see, you look like a… small?”

“Yes.”

“Here,” she handed him an impeccably tailored chef shirt in the most obnoxious shade of violet. “You’ll also need this.” She handed him a white and yellow plaid strip of fabric.

“Is this a… bowtie?”

“Blaine’s kind of addicted to them.”

“Addicted to bowties.”

“Yeah. Now, you can change in here. I’m going back to the front if you need me. You can go ahead to the kitchen when you’re done. I’ll tell Blaine to be nice.” And with another wink, Tina flounced out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later, Kurt checked his hair one last time in his reflection in the window, and walked confidently to the kitchen. With a deep breath, he steeled himself, and pushed the door open.

It was a very normal looking kitchen, wonderfully buzzing with activity and what sounded like Katy Perry’s Greatest Hits. A lovely young blonde woman twirled past him.

“Oh Blainers,” she said in a light, singsong-y voice, “I think our new play thing is here.”

“Now Quinny, we mustn’t scare away the help. I need him to make the risotto tonight!” The chef’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Kurt was suddenly too nervous to place it. Because Chef Anderson was in front of him. He was in Chef Anderson’s kitchen.

“Yo, Puckerman, I’m gonna need you to grab this so I can show Kurt Hummel here how this place works.”

A tall, tanned guy with a strange looking Mohawk complied, and Chef Anderson finally, finally spun to face Kurt.

And then he knew why the voice and the dark curls were so familiar. It was the stranger from the subway.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Really, Kurt? That’s your first sentence to your new boss?”

“Actually, I believe my first sentence went something like, ‘sorry for sitting on you.’”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So you knew almost the entire time—”

“No, I knew the entire time. Tina showed me your picture. I knew you the moment you stepped on the train.”

“And you didn’t say anything? God, I feel like such an idiot!” This was not how his first day was supposed to go, Kurt thought, hiding his reddening face in his hands.

“Aw, don’t feel like that!”

“But I went on and on to you about how incredible ‘Chef Anderson’ is and then ‘Chef Anderson’ is you and you just sat there and… let me.”

“Its always nice to be complimented,” Blaine shrugged.

Kurt sighed heavily. “Chef Anderson, I—” Kurt was cut off by a ladle colliding with the side of his head. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

“Didn’t Tina tell you?”

“Yeah. But she said a pot holder.”

“That’s because that was the item that hit her. Puck’s was a spatula and Quinn’s was a cheese grater. It is whatever is most handy at the moment.”

“You’re certifiable,” Kurt said, rubbing the already forming bump on his temple.

“Yeah, maybe,” Blaine shrugged again. “Ready to begin?”

Blaine showed him around the kitchen, explaining every little detail with conviction (“This is the freezer, Kurt. Where youfreeze things.”). And Kurt was completely baffled by this man. He also couldn’t help liking him just a little bit more.

“Alright,” Blaine clapped his hands together and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ready to go? We open in one point five people!” He shouted to the kitchen. “Kurt, here’s the dishes you’re responsible for tonight. If you have questions, ask… somebody. And just have fun, okay? Stop worry so much. You’ll do great, Kurt. Courage."

"Courage."