"Okay, one last time, do we all know what we're doing?" Kurt supresses a sigh as he surveys the massed ranks of the staff of Glee. He loves these guys to pieces, but he pities every teacher some of them – Finn and Puck in particular – have ever had. They do good work, but he has to explain everything three or four times over, just to be sure they understand.

Everyone calls their agreement in chorus, but Kurt feels the need to check even so. "Just…tell me what you're doing, so I can be certain. Lauren, go."

Lauren rolls her eyes, looking insulted at being trusted so little. "I have a meeting with some dentists," she says, sounding bored.

"Denman Dental, not 'some dentists'," Kurt corrects her.

"They're dentists, aren't they?" she asks. "Anyway, they want to buy advertising space in the magazine in return for stocking it in their waiting rooms."

"Yeah, about that…either get a better deal or just say no," Kurt says, head tilted. "Teeth are important and all, but people do not want to hear about them in connection with show choir, no matter what Dr Carl Howell may think." Having moved up in the world, Dr Howell is no longer just a dentist in Ohio; rather, he is the face of a nation-wide campaign to improve oral hygiene amongst teenagers.

"Noted."

"Okay. Mike?"

"I'm interviewing Jesse St. James. Remind me why I have to do that again?"

"Because, out of all of us, you were the least hostile towards him during the whole St. Berry debacle. Apart from maybe Matt," Kurt adds, "but none of us know where he is anymore. Besides, Jesse is the coach of the choir that's won Nationals the past three years. We can't put off talking to him any longer."

Mike sighs heavily, but ultimately doesn't argue.

"Puck?"

"I have to go and take photos of that jerk," Puck says sourly.

"Try not to hit him, please?" Kurt implores. "Finn?"

"Job interviews," Finn answers. Kurt put him in charge of recruitment because his dopey step-brother has a genuine talent for leadership, and he can be very persuasive when he wants to be.

"Excellent. And there's a couple of boxes of stationery downstairs…do you think you could…?"

Finn nods. It's very convenient, having him around: he can deal with all the heavy lifting, because most of the people in the office just can't; and Mike and Puck, who can, are out more often than not.

"Thanks Finn. Santana?"

"The same thing I do every single month," Santana says, her voice dripping with only the vaguest hint of sarcasm. Kurt is quite proud that she restrained herself.

"…Fine. I'll let you off with that, since I don't normally have a problem with you. But don't miss the deadline. And that goes for all of you," Kurt warns. "If you do, you're paying the chiropractor's bills."

There is a smattering of grumbles from some of the people gathered, but Quinn levels a glare at them and they fall silent quickly. Kurt waits until everyone is quiet before continuing.

"As for the rest of you," he says, making a broad, all-encompassing gesture with his right hand, "nothing's changed since last month; and the other articles are freelance, so…get going. None of you are models; I don't pay you to stand around looking pretty. Or not."

Everyone laughs loudly, and the crowd begins to disperse, streams of people trickling out of the room towards desks and doors. Kurt turns to Tina and Quinn expectantly, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

"There're some bills and things you need to look through; and some articles from freelancers for the issue after next," Tina says with a little sigh. Kurt nods and begins to move towards his office, but Quinn stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"However," she adds, "you're not going to so much as look at those papers until after lunch."

Kurt glances at the clock on the wall. "Quinn, it's only half eleven. I never eat this early."

"You can eat whenever you like," Quinn says snappishly, sounding impatient now. "What you're going to do is get down to East Seventy-Fifth like you promised."

Kurt scowls. "Why do I tell you two anything?"

"Because you love us very much?" Tina offers.

"You're lucky I do. Besides, it isn't lunch time."

"Kurt, you can probably assume that by lunchtime, he meant sometime between twelve and two," Quinn tells him. "And God knows how long it'll take you get down there at this time of day – the traffic'll be horrendous. So take two hours; you deserve a break. Heck, take longer if you need to." he ruins the soberness of her semi-lecture about his work habits by winking at him.

"Fine," Kurt says, narrowing his eyes at them both. "But you know I hate you, right?"

"No, you don't," Tina and Quinn both say brightly. "Now off you go, and try a proper conversation this time."

Kurt arrives on East 75th Street at quarter past twelve, and it's only as he wanders up and down the pavement aimlessly that he realises that he doesn't know where on East 75th Blaine is going to be playing. Not the most auspicious start to the afternoon, it must be said.

In the end, though, he doesn't have to look too hard. Blaine is conspicuous in his bright t-shirt and pink sunglasses, guitar in hand. He's already attracting some curious glances when Kurt wanders over, hovering nervously off to the side.

Now he's here, Kurt feels stupid. Sure, Blaine invited him, but it's a bit presumptuous of him to turn up here and expect Blaine to remember him. He floats just out of sight, unsure of what to do.

Blaine turns slightly and glimpses him. "Kurt!" he says, smiling brightly. "You came!"

"Of course I did," Kurt says, stepping closer. He can't stop himself smiling too; Blaine's grin is infectious. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Can't complain, at least. You?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Kurt answers. "Work's busy, but there we go."

"What do you do? If you don't mind me asking," Blaine says, plucking at the strings on his guitar to check that they are in tune.

"I'm a magazine editor."

What magazine?" Blaine's eyes are intent, his forehead furrowed in concentration: he genuinely wants to know.

"Um, Glee?"

"Oh, I love that!" Blaine says enthusiastically. He reminds Kurt vividly of a puppy; it's endearing. "I wish there had been a magazine like that when I was a teenager in show choir."

Kurt isn't surprised that Blaine was in glee club in high school – performing is as natural for him as breathing is necessary to life.

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Thank you." Kurt truly is grateful for Blaine's praise, but this situation is strange for him. Having a gorgeous man whom he may or may not have a bit of a crush on compliment his magazine isn't something that ever figured in his teenage dreams of New York City.

"No, thank you," Blaine insists, his pre-performance preparations seeming to be complete. "My friends are going to be so jealous when I tell them I've met you."

Kurt chuckles awkwardly, eyes averted. "This is pretty surreal for me. Seriously, it's not that interesting."

Blaine just raises his eyebrows instead of arguing. "Whatever you say. So, any requests?"

"Really?" Kurt asks incredulously. Blaine nods. "Um, I don't really know…"

"What's your favourite song?" Blaine prompts him. "I can't do musical theatre, not with just this -" he gestures to his guitar "– but anything else. Come on – pick something."

"Uh…The Beatles? I don't mind, honestly."

"Hmmm…" Blaine cocks his head, thinking. "I reckon I can do something with that," he says, smiling. "Now, go stand over there with everyone else."

Kurt glances over his shoulder and sees that a crowd has gathered behind them. "Okay. But this had better not be embarrassing."

"Don't be silly," Blaine laughs. "Of course it will be."

Kurt groans and steps backwards into the crowd, a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. He's kind of fed up with his intestines being assaulted by butterflies every time he sees Blaine, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to see him.

"Afternoon, everyone," Blaine calls out with a wave. "I'm Blaine; it's nice to see you. This first song was…sort of requested by my friend Kurt here." He nods in Kurt's direction and every eye turns towards him, making Kurt blush.

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" someone shouts from the back of the crowd.

Blaine chuckles. "He just told me 'The Beatles'. I think he'll like it, though." He grins and winks, then starts to sing: "Love, love me do; you know I love you…"

Oh dear God in Heaven, Kurt thinks. What is he doing? He does love this song, and Blaine sings it just as well as he sang Teenage Dream last week; but…why? They barely know each other, after all; this song is…well, it isn't as inappropriate as Teenage Dream, Kurt'll give him that, but it could be considered a little much. The lyrics are straightforward enough, after all: Someone to love, someone like you…Does that mean that Blaine wants Kurt to love him? It seems unlikely, but the thought makes the butterflies in Kurt's stomach flap harder.

The song is a short one, though, and Blaine finishes it and moves on through Queen, Beyoncé and The Script before Kurt can give himself a headache by thinking too hard about Blaine's meaning.

As the last chord of the last song fades away, the crowd applauds politely and begins to disperse. A few people toss coins and notes into Blaine's open guitar case, but most trickle away without giving anything. Kurt frowns, seeing this, and carefully places fifty dollars in the case.

Blaine blinks at him. "So much? I can't accept that."

"Yes, you can," Kurt says, a hint of impatience colouring his tone. "I feel bad because hardly anyone gave you anything."

"That's just how it goes sometimes," Blaine says with a casual shrug. "I don't mind, I'm doing what I love."

"But do you get enough? I mean, you have to eat, too."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Blaine says brightly. "I work some evenings in a little coffee shop round the corner. The salary's pretty good, especially because I work Sundays and then it's double pay."

"You sure?" Kurt asks. "I can't help worrying a little."

Blaine gives a little, dopey smile. "I'm not starving, Kurt, I promise."

Kurt frowns. "Even so, take the money," he insists. "If you want, you can take it as payment for last time too, seeing as I disappeared without giving you everything."

"…There's no point arguing with you, is there?"

"Nope."

"Well, then, thank you," Blaine says, managing to sound gracious. He pockets the money, and then lays his guitar down carefully in the now-empty case. "So…I'll see you around?"

"I hope so," Kurt says, smiling warmly. "It was nice getting to hear you perform again."

"I'm glad you liked it. Find me again, yeah?"

"I will," Kurt promises. He turns to walk away, preparing to wave over his shoulder, when Blaine calls out to stop him.

"Kurt! Could I…could I get your number?"

"Um…sure," Kurt says, a little startled. He swaps his phone for Blaine's and taps in his number whilst Blaine does the same, then they switch back.

"So…thanks," Blaine says. Kurt notices a tiny blush edging along his cheekbones.

"You're welcome. Thank you, too."

Blaine chuckles. "This is awkward now, isn't it?"

"Lil' bit."

Blaine pauses, looking conflicted for a moment.

"Would you like to get some coffee?"

If Kurt was startled before, he thinks he might actually fall over now. He remains outwardly calm, however, as he says yes, he would like that very much, and walks with Blaine down the street. He doesn't even think anyone notices that his legs have turned to jelly – a little progress, at least.