“Hello, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine shook Kurt’s hand with a confident force, his voice steady and strong, unlike so many interviewee hopefuls.

“Hello, Mr…Anderson, is it?” Kurt replied, straightening his glasses on his nose, sitting down in his large office chair behind a dark, wood desk.

He was trying to take in the appearance of the boy quickly. Slick, gelled hair. Tight, slim slacks. A bow tie. If his style was any indication, Mr. Blaine Anderson would fit in well at the head office for Hummel’s Fashion.

Blaine smiled and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, laying his portfolio on his lap.

“So,” Kurt began, “Tell me about yourself.”

With a deep breath, Blaine started, “Well, I love your magazine, sir. Hummel’s has been my go-to fashion magazine since I was in college. I’ve always been interested in fashion and media, but recently it’s become a passion of mine. I worked with a few local newspapers to try out journalism, but then I started my own fashion column, and the rest is history.”

Kurt saw from Blaine the same passion he felt when he was in college and started in the industry.

It was endearing.

“It sounds like you have a little bit of experience. Tell me more about that.”

“Yeah,” Blaine’s eyes brightened, “Being a local journalist was a good experience, but that isn’t what I want to do. I really prefer researching for fashion than for other stories. I write my absolute best when I’m writing about fashion. It’s where I feel at home.”

If the award winning smile wasn’t enough, Blaine’s answers were absolutely perfect. Kurt was on the brink of breaking the no-emotion-during-an-interview rule, his lips twitching at the corners.

After a short stretch of silence, Kurt cleared his throat, “Can I see your portfolio?”

Blaine hastened to give the slim, black binder to Kurt.

“Your body of work is impressive,” Kurt told Blaine while he continued to look through the pages, leafing through beautifully designed magazine pages and newspaper articles, “But nothing is for certain yet. I’ll give you a call in a few days to let you know if you’ll go for a trial run here,” he finally looked up and saw that Blaine began to look nervous, lines wrinkling his forehead and his eyebrows furrowed, “And don’t look so nervous, Blaine,” Kurt added with his most sincere smile.

Rising from his seat quickly, Blaine said a hurried thank you and rushed toward the door.

Kurt couldn’t help notice the easy swing of Blaine’s hips and the way his ass looked tight and firm as he sashayed out of Kurt’s office.

And it was barely 24 hours later that Kurt was sitting behind his desk, making quick, to-the-point phone calls, that he dialed Mr. Blaine Anderson’s cell phone, the ring going strong for two and a half tones before there was a breathy voice on the other line.

“Hi, this is Blaine Anderson.”

“Hello Mr. Anderson, this is Kurt Hummel, from Hummel’s Fashion.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Hummel. It’s nice to hear from you so soon.”

“I’d like to tell you that I reviewed all applications, portfolios, and interview notes, and upon reexamination, I saw that you were fit for the paid internship,” Kurt was smiling by the end of his sentence, and heard the enthusiasm coming from Blaine’s side.

“Wow, thank you. Wow! Thank you! So much. Thank you, sir. This is amazing.”

After suppressing a giggle, Kurt continued, “You’ll start tomorrow at 7 AM sharp. Dress to impress. Don’t forget anything. And if you’re five minutes early, you’re late,” though his words were tough, they were filled with sincerity, he didn’t want this kid to mess this chance up.

“Absolutely. Thank you again, sir.”

Kurt pressed the end button, warm fuzz spreading from his chest to his head.

So there he was the next morning, coffee cup in hand, juggling a few binders and folders under his arm, jabbing his key into the door to his office, when his cup was lifted from his fingers and the supplies slipped out of his arm.

Startled, Kurt turned around, a sigh of relief washed over him when he saw Blaine’s bright eyes and warm smile pointing in his direction.

“You’re here early. It’s only 6:30,” Kurt was more than happy that Blaine took his advice so seriously.

Blaine’s eyes crinkled with his embarrassed smile, “Didn’t want to be late.”

Kurt finished unlocking the door, opening it and motioning Blaine to follow in behind him.

“Place that stuff on my desk, would you?”

As he walked toward the desk, Kurt noticed the sharp outfit Blaine was sporting. Another bowtie.

“I see you took my advice to heart,” Kurt sauntered toward Blaine with a deliberate swish of his hips.

“Oh,” Blaine’s cheeks flushed, “You are the editor, so I thought it’d be a good idea to take your advice, right?”

“Well, Blaine, the outfit looks very nice, at any rate,” Kurt moved back around his desk and sat in his chair, turning on his computer and then neatly folding his hands on top of the crisp, white desk-calendar.

Blaine became an even darker shade of red, his hands balling up in fists at his sides, “That means a lot, sir. Thank you.”

Kurt deliberated his next move. This was a young intern. Young. It was important to keep in mind the fact that this boy was barely out of college. And that he was absolutely gorgeous.

Suddenly, Blaine’s face was closer to Kurt’s. He was bent over the desk, his head cocked to the side, “Do you need me to do anything for you, sir?”

Kurt’s mouth went dry. The boy smelled fresh and clean, like products that were designed to smell like raspberries. His sharp bone structure was more pronounced up-close, his lips were full and inviting and his eyelashes were being batted at a cosmic speed-

“You can get a head start on the research you’ll be doing for the monthly styles. Celebrity looks. Get going,” Kurt ordered, hoping his voice didn’t sound higher than it normally did.

Puttering about his office for the next 15 minutes, Kurt was unable to stop his mind from jumping back to Blaine. They were still the only two people on the floor of the office building, and would be for at least another 10 minutes.

This could be valuable time in getting to really know the new intern, Kurt thought.

But he didn’t want to seem overbearing, disruptive, or eager.

Kurt’s thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knocking on his already opened door, Blaine’s short, full build barely filling the door frame.

“Come in,” Kurt was looking above the rims of his glasses, “What’s wrong?”

Blaine hurried over with a small pile of papers in his hands, splaying them on the desk in front of him, “I found these different sources, but I wanted your opinion on which one you think I should actually give to the writer. What do you think?”

Kurt let a puff of air leave his chest in a clipped laugh, “You’re adorable,” he said with a slight shake of his head, “Just relax. Give all of the credible sources to the writer, that’s all you have to do.”

Enthusiastically nodding his head, Blaine gathered up the papers, “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” he let out a quiet chuckle, “And thank you, sir.”

Before he stalked away, Kurt rose from his seat and leaned over the desk, grabbing Blaine by the arm and turning him around.

“You’re doing great. Don’t be nervous,” Kurt reassured, hand resting on Blaine’s forearm, “And Blaine?”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose on his forehead, his eyes opening wide.

“Call me Kurt.”