Big thank you to anyone who has been reading this so far. This might feel like more of a filler chapter, but I felt it was necessary to develop the girls more, and introduce the boys home lives- and give a tiny little insight into Blaines background/living situation (which will be explored in detail later). I hope you all enjoy.

Kurt shouldered open the lofts heavy sliding door, a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand. He sighed wearily and forcefully closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and wandering towards the kitchen area. The girls were nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the shower pipes squeaking and Rachels voice rising above the noise of the water pounding on the shower floor, belting out a song shed been practising for an assignment at college. He set the bag of food down on the counter and pushed back the hair that had fallen down into his eyes, the hairspray hed used that morning having mostly worn off despite his best efforts to preserve his hairstyle.

Hed had a long shift, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep before his 9am class the next morning, but he hadnt had anything to eat since breakfast that morning, except Blaines cupcake. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered his exchange with Blaine that afternoon, and how adorably nervous the boy had been-

"Whats got you so happy, Lady Hummel?" Santana drawled, her voice cutting through the silence, causing Kurt to jump ever so slightly. He turned to see her standing in her makeshift doorway, the curtain swept back, with one eyebrow raised as she studied him.

"Nothing," he replied airily, schooling his features into a neutral expression and shrugging at her, "now get over here, I brought food. Hurry up and take what you want because I am not listening to you and Rachel fighting over egg rolls again."

Santana rolled her eyes, but stalked over, snatching the bag and rifling through it, examining the contents of the containers until she was happy with what she had chosen. She stuffed a forkful of food in her mouth before looking back up at Kurt, who was rifling through the containers and setting aside food for Rachel. He couldnt hear the water of the shower any more, and so assumed it would only be a matter of minutes before she appeared.

"So," Santana started, swallowing her mouthful of rice, "how was work today? Not that I really care, but Britt said I should at least pretend to be nice to you."

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, smirking ever so slightly. Santana pretended she didnt give a crap about either of them, but he knew they were probably her best friends, and she just wasnt used to having people there for her. So he dealt with her attitude, and her insults, because he knew that in some twisted way they came from a place of caring.

"Work was fine," he shrugged, "I um, I met the new baker," he added nonchalantly, looking back down at the box of food before him.

"Oh yeah? Whats she like? A hundred years old and batshit crazy like the last one?"

He was about to tell her that no, actually, the new baker was definitely not approaching his centenary, and didnt appear to be insane, but he was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Rachel swept out, wrapped up in a fluffy towel with her wet hair tied into a ponytail. A cloud of steam billowed out of the room behind her and she smiled at Kurt brightly, moving over wrap her arms around him in a hug. He stiffened, but wrapped one arm around her awkwardly. He loved Rachel, he really did, but he was still trying to get used to actually living with her, and at times she didnt realise that they needed to have boundaries.

"Hi Kurt," she beamed, squeezing him tighter.

"Hey Rach," he replied, patting her back awkwardly, "I brought Chinese food...but um, why dont you go put some clothes on first?"

"Oh!" she gasped, pulling away and looking down at the towel tied around her, "sure, Ill be back in a second. Do not let Santana take my egg rolls!"

She flitted away into her bedroom, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a screech, and once again leaving Kurt alone with Santana. He glanced over at her, expecting her to continue their conversation, but instead she silently grabbed two of Rachels egg rolls and wandered over to the couch, unceremoniously dropping onto it. She flicked on the television and immersed herself in one of the trashy reality shows that Kurt loved to hate. Pushing Blaine out of his mind for the time being- and ignoring the fact that Santana had blatantly stolen Rachels food-, he joined her, settling down into their worn armchair and allowing himself to relax for the first time that day.

Blaine blinked his eyes open, groaning as he rolled over and fumbled blindly for his alarm clock. The tinny noise blared through his tiny apartment, way too loud for 5:30am. He shut the noise off and pushed himself out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom to shower. The water was freezing cold against his skin, and he lathered shampoo into his curls and soap over his body as quickly as possible. He hated that he had no hot water, but for the time being he had to deal with it, at least until he had earned enough money at the diner to afford hiring someone to fix his heating system.

Stepping out of the shower, Blaine shook his curls out of his eyes and grabbed a thin, worn towel from the towel rack, body shaking from the cold. He tried desperately to rub some warmth into his body, towelling away the icy droplets, his teeth chattering slightly. This wasnt what he had envisioned when hed decided to move to New York, but this was his new reality and he was determined to make the most of it.

By 6am, Blaine was huddled at his rickety table, dressed in jeans and a thin tshirt, and nursing a mug of coffee. He flipped through his own crudely made recipe book, trying to figure out what to bake that day. Gunther had given him free reign as long his produce was edible and made him money, and he had been mulling over several ideas. He wasnt sure if he should go with something simple to start him off, like brownies, or something more complicated- like macaroons, perhaps?

He wondered briefly what Kurt would like, before he caught himself and shook his head. It didnt matter what Kurt would like, he reminded himself firmly, he was baking for the customers. He glanced down at his watch- 6:17am- and got to his feet, downing the last of his coffee and grabbing the backpack that had his uniform in it, before dashing out the door and down to the subway station, just in time for the 6:23am train.