Kurt woke up with a start at 7 A.M., his internal clock screaming at him to get up, get up get up! He had promised Dianna she could come over at eight o'clock and avoid the overwhelming stench of Lucy's favorite retro perfume, Poison. Kurt stood, delightfully naked in the cool, early morning air. He loved these serene moments, the quiet before the storm, when he could look over the incredible, sleeping body of his sub, smiling in his sleep, stretch his body, and feel alive and content – happier than he had in a long time. Kurt took a peek at Eva's monitor and saw her still sleeping blissfully, wrapped in the safety and security she seemed to get from Blaine's white shirt. Kurt sighed and smiled. He knew how she felt.

Kurt eschewed putting on his clothes, grabbing the twin iPhones from the cutting table before walking through the studio space with its curtains pulled closed, letting the warmth of the sun that leaked through the cracks and spaces between the fabric heat every inch of his skin. Kurt peeked outside. It looked like it just might turn out to be another beautiful Los Angeles morning. He turned his attention to the phones, remembering how they had started to ring off the hook before his amazing boyfriend had dragged him off to bed. He blinked as he looked at the screens. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again to focus. He was stunned, sure he must be dreaming. He did some quick math in his head and hiccupped. He heard Blaine stirring in the bed, rolling and groaning as he realized his dom had gone.

"Blaine," Kurt called to his sub, eyes glued to the phone, an incredulous grin curling his lips. "I think I'm going to need a receptionist."

Nick came rushing over to the house, quicker than Kurt expected. Kurt had called and asked for his help sifting through the hundred plus messages Kurt and Blaine had received that morning. Kurt tried to focus 100% of his attention on Dianna's demands for a Gone with the Wind inspired leather dress with floral cutouts, but every once in a while he couldn't help but overhear Nick in the background, conversing in a professional but still adorable-Nicky-Duval way with potential customers and clients.

"Hello," his cheery voice sang from the hidden work space, "this is Nick Duval from Kurt Hummel's studio, returning your call…" Kurt admired Nick's optimism and his never ending energy. Even when Kurt had taken measurements for his last client of the afternoon, his shoulders aching, his fingertips tingling, looking forward to nothing more than a long hot shower with his gorgeous sub, Nick was still going strong.

"Well, I think that's your entire schedule locked in for at least the next three months," Nick said with a smile, handing over Kurt and Blaine's cell phones, along with Kurt's leather bound appointment book.

"Nicky…" Kurt sighed. "Thank you so much for all your help. We have to talk about how I'm going to pay you back for all your help."

"I've been thinking about that…" Nick winked, "and I think this time I'll pick the cupcakes, please." Nick blinked demurely, his hazel eyes sparkling.

"Nicky…" Kurt rolled his eyes, "I can actually pay you, you know."

"Yes, Mr. Famous Fashion Designer, but can I get those cupcakes anywhere else?"

Kurt smirked.

"Yup, that's right," Nick said superiorly. "That makes them worth more than money."

"Fine," Kurt agreed, kissing Nick on the cheek. "Why don't we go in the house and get started. I'll make you the crepes, too, while you wait."

Nick clapped his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Do you think Jeff will see any of those cupcakes?" Kurt asked as they headed toward the door.

Nick looked up at the ceiling and thought.

"Probably not," Nick said. "I'd better give him a call.

His eyes lit up.

"OhmyGod!" he gushed. "I almost forgot."

Nick snatched the appointment book back from Kurt's hand and turned to the inside cover, pointing to a note he had scribbled on a blank page. Kurt took the book back and read it, cocking an intrigued eyebrow.

"Celebrity Fitness?" he read aloud.

"Yeah," Nick said. "You know, that exclusive L.A. gym where the celebs go? It's where J Lo went to lose her signature butt, and then went to get it back."

Kurt nodded.

"Well, the owner himself called to talk to you…twice." Nick put up two fingers for emphasis.

His head buzzing with curiosity, Kurt picked up his iPhone and dialed the number, putting the call on speaker, not wanting to keep Nick in the dark after all his hard work and help.

"Hey guys." Blaine walked through the front door. "Everyone in the house is thinking pizza for dinner, and…"

"Shhhh!" both men shushed Blaine dramatically. Kurt motioned him over as they all kept vigil by the ringing phone.

"It's a great day for fitness at Celebrity Fitness. How may I direct your call?"

Blaine looked between both men, confused.

Nick held his breath.

"Hello," Kurt said in a calm but upbeat voice, "this is Kurt Hummel returning a call from…"

"Oh my goodness, yes," the receptionist interrupted, sounding a little giddy. "Hold on. I'll put you right through."

Blaine, Nick, and Kurt all looked perplexed by the young woman's eager response.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," an older man's voice, pleasant but strict, addressed him. "I'm Tom Hardy, owner and CEO of Celebrity Fitness. Thank you for returning my call."

"Thank you for calling me, Mr. Hardy." Kurt tried not to sound too over anxious.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you. I have a lot I would like to discuss, so let me cut to the chase. I saw those pictures of you in E! Magazine today…" Tom's tone was no-nonsense, definitely a strictly business kind of guy. Kurt definitely appreciated that spending the afternoon listening to the often catty gossip of so many uptight diva types. Still, Kurt couldn't imagine why the owner of the most exclusive celebrity fitness club in all of Southern California would need the services of a couture clothing designer. Suddenly another slightly more disturbing thought entered Kurt's head.

What if he was looking for a dom?

"…and I need to ask you first off…do you still look like that?"

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

"Uh…look like what, Mr. Hardy?"

"That photo of you in the black panties…"

Kurt blushed a bit at the straight forward way Mr. Hardy asked that question – no apprehension, no embarrassment.

'Oh, God,' Kurt thought grimly. 'This guy is looking for a dom!'

"…is that a recent photo?"

Kurt bit his lip, determined not to sound embarrassed or ashamed.

"Yes, Mr. Hardy. That's a recent picture."

"Excellent," Tom said with a relieved sigh.

'Oh, dear Lord, here it comes.'

"Mr. Hummel, I have had almost every client of mine call me this morning and ask me how in the world they can get a body like yours."

Blaine and Nick stared at Kurt who turned beet red straight down to his toes. He wasn't shy of his body, he just wasn't comfortable talking about it like a commodity…or seeing it printed in a nationwide magazine.

"The article says that you were a fitness instructor?" Tom continued.

"Yes…" Kurt drove his fingernails into his palm to keep his voice from shaking.

"Well, I would like to discuss an opportunity with you," Tom said, "as soon as possible, of putting together something I would like to call 'The Kurt Hummel Method'."

Kurt's mouth dropped.

"Mr. Hardy, I'm not sure I'm qualified…"

"You and a team of my best instructors will sit down and put together a fitness routine," Tom continued, undeterred by Kurt's objections, "a combination of methods of your choosing, which our instructors will teach during their group classes. You, of course, being the face of the Kurt Hummel Method, would have the opportunity to take on some of our more discerning celebrity clients at your choosing."

Kurt didn't know what to say. Owning his own business was a dream onto itself, but this opportunity came out of nowhere. He had never imagined himself being the face of anything other than his own clothing line. The thought that famous celebrities had called this morning wanting a body like his was already too much to wrap his mind around. His mouth tried to speak while his mind was still stuck about five steps behind.

"Why don't we arrange a meeting," Tom rushed through the silence. "You can bring your agent, your lawyer, your boyfriend, whomever you like…"

How Hollywood, Kurt thought, that this man assumed he had an agent. Kurt had to smirk, though, that he addressed Blaine as Kurt's 'boyfriend' without calling him by name.

"Sure," Kurt agreed. Having a sudden stroke of inspiration he added, "let me turn you over to my receptionist, Nick Duval. He handles my appointments."

"That'll be just fine," Tom said, sounding a little tight at being handed off to a receptionist. "I look forward to doing business with you."

Kurt handed the call over to Nick, who took the phone off speaker. Kurt pulled Blaine away so that he could squeal like a girl without anyone hearing.

"Do you believe that, Blaine!?" Kurt giggled.

"You mean the part where everyone in Hollywood wants your body?" Blaine growled, pulling Kurt against him and attacking his neck.

"Well, yeah, there's that I guess," Kurt moaned, leaning into Blaine's mouth. "But, how about the part where I become a method?"

"How about the part where he didn't know my name?" Blaine whined against Kurt's skin.

"Um, guys?" Nick said, tapping Kurt on the shoulder. "Could we possibly do this another time? I was promised some cupcakes."

Dave had the entire contents of his wardrobe laid out on his bed. He had spent a good portion of the afternoon trying to line up his polo shirts with the perfect pair of pants. He had arranged and rearranged ensembles numerous times, and still couldn't find a combination that said, 'I'm strong, confident, and responsible…' with a quiet undertone of 'please go out to dinner with me'.

Dave sighed, dropping down onto the foot of his bed, looking at the row of shoes he had lined up against the closet wall. Shit. He hadn't even thought about the shoes…and don't they need to match the belt?

Yup. Dave was fucked.

He considered asking Kurt for help, but embarrassment at admitting he wanted to pursue more than a coffee-date with Adam kept him locked in his room, contemplating shirts.

Dave didn't realize that the tricky business of his wardrobe had kept him secluded for over two hours. Even though he had hoped to suffer quietly, Kurt wondered for over an hour where Dave had run off to and went searching for him.

Of course, he started with Dave's bedroom, so the search hadn't gone on too long.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Dave?" Kurt's voice called through the door. "Dave? Are you still here?"

Dave considered staying quiet, pretending he had left, and then maybe Kurt would go away, but he really needed someone to talk to.

For one brief and disturbing moment, he cursed Blaine for not being the one to find him first.

He really did not look forward to talking with Kurt about his lack of a love life.

Dave opened the door, holding it wide, silently inviting Kurt inside.

"Hey!" Kurt said. One look at Dave's face told Kurt that something was troubling him. "We were about to make pizza for lunch and we were wondering…"

Kurt saw the clothes lying out on the bed, and knew.

"Ah." Kurt turned to Dave he looked at him hopelessly. "Existential clothes crisis. Been there."

Dave sighed, returning to his spot on the bed.

"So, is this about school…or is this about Adam?"

Dave figured he had been pretty transparent lately, but he still felt that Kurt's ability to read him so well was a talent short of the occult.

"Adam," Dave replied quietly. "I just…I'm happy here, Kurt, I really do. But, things aren't the way they were back home, and I guess I feel…I want what you have, Kurt. I want someone of my own."

"Of course you do, honey," Kurt said, putting a comforting hand on Dave's knee. "You're human, and humans tend to want to have relationships with other humans. It's a worldwide epidemic, Dave."

Dave chuckled, shaking his head.

"I guess I didn't realize just how much I needed this." Dave dropped his head, looking at Kurt's hand on his knee. "For so long, the only people I thought I needed were you and the kids. But, seeing you with Blaine, and watching Nick and Jeff together all the time, I…I feel lonely. But, we've only been here for a few months, and everything seems to be moving so fast. And…"

"And…" Kurt urged quietly, even though he knew what Dave had left to confess.

"I've never had a boyfriend. In fact, you're the only man I've ever…"

Dave blew out a pained breath. He didn't like to think about it, but it was the truth. It had happened, and it was still out there.

"You're the only man I've ever kissed."

Kurt smiled, squeezing Dave's knee and resting his head on his shoulder.

"Dave, we're growing. All of us, every day, growing and become more ourselves. You have to grow, too, and that means finding someone who's going to make you happy."

Dave rested his cheek against Kurt's hair, smelling the familiar scent of vanilla, feeling the silky strands tickle his skin. A long time ago, the thrill that came with those sensations filled him with such an unrequited joy he believed in his heart that Kurt was the ending to his story.

Now, here in this new house, with his new life, he could see potential new chapters waiting to be written, and as wonderful as they seemed, they also scared him to death.

"Dave, you're a wonderful man, an incredible guardian, and Adam would be lucky to have you."

Dave nodded, acknowledging the sentiment.

A knock on the door had both men looking up.

"Hey, guys," Blaine said, surveying the situation with concern on his face. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Fashion emergency," Kurt explained.

Blaine walked in and looked over the clothes on the bed.

"May, I?" he asked, looking at the two sitting on the bed.

"Be my guest," Dave said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Blaine moved a couple of shirts, and rearranged a few pairs of pants, tapping his chin with his finger.

"There," he said finally, opening his arm with a flourish.

Kurt patted Dave's knee as he stood, appraising the clothes the way Blaine had rearranged them out on the bed. Kurt shook his head, putting a condescending hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"Sweetie, no. You're not on Sing anymore."

Quickly Kurt grabbed up a neutral beige polo with dark and pale blue stripes just along the top, a pair of khaki slacks, and a darker brown belt. He hooked the hangers of the ensemble together, hanging them from a hook on Dave's closet. He then swiftly pulled a pair of shoes from the line up on the floor and rested them against the door.

"There," Kurt said with triumph. He stood back a bit, looking over the clothes, squinting his eye critically. "This says I'm a strong, confident, responsible, with a subtle underscore of please go out to dinner with me."

Dave stood up, his eyes wide and bright. He grabbed Kurt's cheeks in his hands and pecked a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you!" he said. Kurt giggled, grabbing Blaine's hand and heading for the door.

"Anytime, Dave."

Blaine sat on the steps of his old house, watching Sebastian's car roll up the driveway, coming to a stop and parking behind Blaine's sports car. The minute Sebastian stepped out, Blaine could tell he looked different. Blaine hadn't really spent any time around him since the gala fiasco, when he caught Sebastian tied to his hotel suite bed with a P.R. assistant straddling his lap. Blaine hadn't really been to the studio, either. The two of them went from trash talking frenemies to pretty much having nothing to say to one another. So, it intrigued Blaine when Sebastian called, out of the blue, and asked to meet at his house, alone.

The Sebastian who approached him wearing a blue and white striped Ralph Lauren polo and distressed jeans looked like the Sebastian who first got his big break on Sing – just an easy going, charming young man, unsullied, with big dreams of being a star and no ulterior motives whatsoever.

"Hey, Blaine." Sebastian extended a hand in greeting. Blaine stood from the stoop, looking at the offered hand once before taking it. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I know you didn't have to."

"Is this about the meeting at the studio next week?"

In between calls from potential clients blowing up Blaine's phone looking for Kurt, Blaine had received a phone call from the studio's lawyers, inviting Blaine to a meeting to discuss the future of Sing. Blaine didn't see that the ailing show had much of a future as the majority of its main characters had walked out on production.

"Sort of," Sebastian said, his eyes flicking back toward the house. "Would it be alright if we go inside?"

"Sebastian," Blaine started, putting his hands up defensively, "I have no…"

"It's not like that," Sebastian interrupted, looking down at his shoes. "I saw the pictures…those pictures of your man, Hummel." Sebastian whistled appreciatively through his teeth, shaking his head with a sly grin. Blaine glared at him murderously.

"I didn't know you read gossip mags, Bas," Blaine quipped.

"I don't," Sebastian offered, suddenly looking bashful. "Chandler does."

Blaine's hazel eyes went wide, a playful smirk twisting his lips.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Blaine saw the slight blush coloring Sebastian's cheeks and knew. "You and the P.R. guy? From the gala?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sebastian said. "Let it out. I deserve it."

Blaine nodded.

"Yeah, you did deserve it," Blaine said. "You deserved to find someone who would love you for you. The real you. Not the asshole you pretend to be."

Sebastian scoffed.

"It's not all pretend," Sebastian admitted with a fair amount of shame, "but that's why I'm here. If you let me inside, I'll solve a mystery for you."

"What, you're going to perform magic?" Blaine teased, leading Sebastian to the door.

"Yup," Sebastian joked, breezing past Blaine. "I'm going to show you how Brad got that picture of Hummel on the patio."

Blaine felt his insides boil as Sebastian walked into the house, straight through to the backyard, reached beneath an ornamental bush, and pulled out a tiny camera, nestled in a housing that made it look like a rock.

Blaine stormed up to the taller man, his face red, his eyes glaring.

"Before you unleash on me," Sebastian said, handing the device over to Blaine, "I knew about the camera, but I didn't put it there."

"Then who did, Bas?" Blaine asked, though he could certainly hazard a guess.

"How about a certain vengeful ex-girlfriend?" Bas said. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you…"

"Pillow talk," Sebastian answered quickly. Blaine wasn't surprised. Just before he met Kurt, Blaine had suspected that Mia and Sebastian had taken a step beyond being bitchy friends, but he never cared enough to acknowledge it or be jealous of it. In fact, at the time, it excited him to think of the opportunities that might present themselves if the three of them got together. Blaine mentally slapped himself. What an idiot he had been.

He much preferred his life now.

"She put it there to get dirt on Kurt?" Blaine's brow furrowed, wondering when she would have gotten the chance. Maybe when he was in San Diego…

"Nope. Brad had her install that before you ever went to that autograph signing. He's been getting dirt on you…" Sebastian shrugged, "…on the both of us, actually, for quite some time now."

Blaine held the camera tight in his hands, throttling the faux rock till his hands shook. Sebastian watched him, trying to read the look in his eyes.

"What are you thinking, Blaine?" Sebastian asked.

Blaine looked at Sebastian with a mixture of gratitude and sympathy. They all had such high hopes going into this…even Mia. What a nightmare their dream turned into. At least Blaine got Kurt out of it…and Sebastian got Chandler.

"I'm thinking that I'd better talk to my lawyer."

More than a week had gone by since his internship began, and Dave started to feel disheartened. He still didn't have a mentor, and had not been assigned a client. Even Adam seemed to be avoiding him. He hadn't even shown up for most of the classes. Maybe Kurt's pictures in E! Magazine, though instrumental in jumpstarting Kurt's exploding career, had the unexpected side effect of destroying his Dave's chances. He sat in his seat, going over his books, his notes, his syllabus, trying to look busy even though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

Dave considered just dropping the internship for this semester and applying again next semester, but so many people had stuck their necks out for him, handing him opportunities he wouldn't be able to earn otherwise, he didn't want to give up.

He opened his business management book, ready to read and get ahead in at least one of his classes, when the door to the classroom flying open made everyone turn around in their chairs. Adam rushed in, his arms filled with files and papers, a pencil clenched between his teeth. Dave blushed when Adam's eyes immediately sought his out, locking with his gaze. Adam smiled around his pencil, nodding in Dave's direction, before bounding down the stairs to the professor's desk.

Dave watched Adam deposit the stack of files and papers onto the desk, leaning over the older man to talk with him privately, in hushed tones. No one else seemed interested in Adam's sudden and unexplained entrance, so the low hum that accompanied other groups talking amongst themselves resumed. Dave strained his ears in an attempt to overhear their conversation while simultaneously trying to look absorbed in reading the aspects of business management.

He gave up, especially when it seemed the two men might be in conference for the entire class.

'When trying to obtain a degree in business, it's important, first, to try and isolate the…'

Dave had read the sentence twenty seven times, and it still didn't make any sense, so he gave up. The hour was over. He had other things to do than to sit around, mooning over a man who took him out for coffee twice, and was obviously not interested.

Oh, and he still didn't have a client. Dave scolded himself, realizing that should have been his foremost concern.

"Hey, Dave!" Adam called, bouncing over adorably as Dave gathered up his books.

"Hey," Dave responded with a polite smile, trying to not look heart broken.

"I have wonderful news," Adam said in a sing song voice. Dave raised his eyebrows, blushing a bit at the slightly heated look in Adam's beautiful blue eyes.

"I've got a client for you."

Adam held a manila folder out toward Dave, motioning for him to take it. Dave's eyes widened as he took the file from Adam. Dave put down his books and opened the folder, flipping through the pages – transcripts, game stats, newspaper articles; the article on top spotlighting a young, African-American woman in the midst of a jump shot.

"Her name's Letisha," Adam said, highlighting the key points for Dave. "Best female point guard in the college league…possibly ever. She's graduating college in the coming two years, but she wants to go pro." Dave looked up at Adam just as he bit his lips and grimaced slightly, taking in a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously easing into something big. "Unfortunately, no one wants to touch her."

Dave furrowed his brow.

"Why not?" Dave asked incredulously, looking back over her stats. "She looks incredible."

"Because up until about a few years ago, she..." Adam reached out and turned a few pages in the file in Dave's hands, "was a he."

Dave's eyes went wide. Then he nodded, ducking his head.

"I get it," Dave said, closing the file. "You gave this to me…because of the pictures. You chose me for this assignment because of Kurt."

Dave's heart went hard, cold. He had no problem handling Letisha as a client. What she did with her life didn't concern him. He would support her, no matter what decision she made. But he didn't know how he felt about being stereotyped, and if he was, considering how long it had taken Adam to find him a client that 'fit the bill', he would be hard pressed for work.

"I will be honest," Adam began, ducking a bit to catch Dave's gaze, "those pictures were the final piece of the puzzle that told me you might have the particular skills needed to handle this with tact and dignity. But, and I say this with all sincerity…" Adam closed the space between them, eyes flicking momentarily to Dave's lips as he spoke, "…I chose you because you are the smartest, kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met."

Dave started to blush.

"Well, I might as well," Dave said, rolling his eyes mockingly. "It doesn't seem like anyone else is chomping at the bit to work with me."

"Oh," Adam said, his face bright, "they all were."

"What?" Dave looked at the other groups gathered around, some glancing back at him with odd looks.

"Yup. You are by far the most qualified person in the room. You were everyone's first choice."

Dave started to stammer.

"Wh-why didn't they say anything?"

"Because..." Adam put a hand on Dave's shoulder and leaned in, "I told them to back off. I told them you were all mine."

Dave's heart hammered in his chest. Adam's pert lips hovered just kissing distance away.

"Come on," Adam said, taking Dave's books out of his hands and grabbing his arm, "let's go help our girl."

Our girl.

Dave just about died.