Oh, like you've ever actually kissed a boy.

Like you've ever actually kissed a boy.

Ever actually kissed a boy.

Kissed a boy.

A boy.

Kurt scowled as Rachel's words echoed in his head, and he shook it off as he swept behind the counter of The Tipsy Bean. The coffee shop was empty now, the last few customers having trickled out a few minutes ago, and though they were technically open until midnight, Kurt saw no harm in cleaning things up a little early. The faster he was out of here, the faster he could get home and crawl into the bed beside his girls, and just dream all the stress away.

He admitted, if only to himself, that his walkout earlier that day had been a little immature. He knew Rachel hadn't really meant what she said; she was just nervous about her relationship with Quinn, and he figured she had a right to be. But after her pushing about Blaine, he couldn't handle the comeback of the annoying sophomore that thought she knew everything. And the hell of it was, she was absolutely right on both counts.

He did like Blaine, and was perhaps in a worse place with him than she was with Quinn, because they hadn't even discussed the possibility of dating. Which was ridiculous anyway, because as much as he liked Blaine and as friendly as the younger man had been, there was no way that he wanted to have a romantic relationship with a twenty-one-year-old with a three year old and a girlfriend who might as well have been another daughter, all things considered. He could do so much better, he deserved so much better, and anything that Kurt tried to do against that would be nothing less than presumptuous.

"Kurt!"

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the voice, and he turned to see the assistant manager walking toward him.

"Ms Lacey," he nodded. "Kinda died out, didn't it?"

"Holiday weekend," the older lady shrugged. "It happens." She brushed a radish-red curl out of her face and smiled. "Gives me more time to spend with you, sweet thing."

He blushed at the term, but knew she didn't mean a thing by it. She was well aware of his situation, and had been the bearer of bad news to several dreamy-eyed young co-eds who had asked about him over the course of the last several months he had been here.

"So how'd you do in tips, kid?"

"No clue," he shrugged. "I'll count 'em later."

"Kurt, you need to be more mercenery," she sighed. "The dollar is king."

"I thought that was Elvis," he raised a brow and she grinned.

"And this is why I keep you around."

"I'm pretty sure you keep me around because you're hoping that Brittany and Sunny will stop by during my shift and you can spoil my daughter with chocolate cake."

"Nonsense," she waved him off and started toward the register. "You got one of them iPhone contraptions?"

"'Contraptions,' Lace? You're not even thirty, you shouldn't talk like that."

"I'll talk however I like, young man," she sniffed, though her green eyes were sparkling, and he rolled his in turn.

"Of course you will. And no, I don't. I am one of the forgotten few that hasn't even advanced to the Smart Phone Age."

"No kidding? Well, that's alright. We can use a sheet of paper instead. Pull up a stool, kid."

He frowned a little as he dragged a stool over to the counterspace beside her while she pulled a piece of white printer paper from below the register.

"What's up?"

"I'd like to discuss your schedule, if you don't mind."

He stilled at her words; she couldn't possibly be cutting his hours more, could she? What did she want to do, switch him to one of those pathetic four-hour shifts? He knew it was a little weird that he only worked every other weekend, but they had agreed to this when his classes had started up after the summer. If she was worried that it wasn't worth keeping him on, she only had to look around to see how spic and span he kept the place while on duty. Maybe if he showed her the back-up grinder that he had pretty much sandblasted to within an inch of its life so it now shone as if brand-new, she would reconsider.

"I'd like to bring you up to at least twenty-five hours over the winter break."

Wait, what?

"What? You're not cutting my hours?"

Lacey threw back her head and laughed.

"Lord, no. What would I do? Switch you to one of those pathetic four-hour shifts?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, and relaxed into his seat.

"You're right, that's ridiculous. I don't know what I was thinking."

"If you'd help yourself to some of the caffeine you're surrounded by, you might be faster on your feet, kid."

"And then I'd be wired and crazy, just like you," he teased, and she grinned before sketching out a quick calendar on the paper.

"So you are staying in town over the break, yes?"

"What else is there?" he shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. Travel, family, holiday traditions..."

"I'm making my own holiday traditions this year," he answered, and she smiled up at him before marking several dates.

"Well, I'm glad you are, because over half of my staff is leaving me. I wasn't kidding when I said 'at least twenty-five hours,' Kurt. You might even be working a couple forties, if you're up for it, of course."

"Oh, I'm definitely up for it. That's fantastic," he grinned, before perusing the make-shift calendar before him. "Well, the first through fifth is my finals week, but I think our last actual final between Britt and I is Thursday morning, so I can work anytime after noon that day. Oh, and I'm planning a little Christmas celebration on the nineteenth."

"You inviting me?" she asked archly, and he returned, "Do I have that day off?"

She smiled, and marked a large 'X' through the nineteenth.

"Done."

"Done."

"And we're closed the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth anyway. We are open New Year's, but I'm sure I can wrangle the old folks into those shifts."

Kurt snorted at her words. The 'old folks' she spoke of were, in fact, her parents, who had a fifty-percent share in the store, and would likely throw a fit that their own New Year's celebrations had to be cancelled.

"You sure you want to do that?" he asked. "I mean, from what I hear, last year's New Year's Eve party was quite a hoot. I heard Missy and Travis stayed up until almost three in the morning."

"It'll be fine," she nodded. "I mean, they would kill me if I closed shop, and if I told them that it was poor, sweet Kurt that had to pick up the shift--"

"'Poor, sweet Kurt?' Really, Lace?"

She only grinned and drew another big 'X' over the two days.

"And when does class start up again in January?"

"Um, I think the first Monday? But cross your fingers that it's the second, because I could use the stock-pile these extra hours will get me."

"And I could use your sixth sense on cleaning," she returned, and folded up the calendar and handed it to him. "We'll figure out January hours later, then. If you're bored on any days not marked, give me a call in the morning, and I'm sure I can fit you in. And don't worry about overtime, kid. You're one of the hardest workers here, and you're worth it."

He smiled warmly at her and then looked down at his wrist as the alarm sounded.

"And there we have midnight," he grinned. "Shall we?"

"Go turn off the sign," she nodded. "I'll count down the drawer while you finish sweeping up in here, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," he saluted smartly, and she rolled her eyes before waving him off.

It was less than fifteen minutes before the place was clean, the blinds drawn, and the trash taken out, and Kurt walked Lacey out to her car.

"Seriously, Kurt, you're much prettier than I am. I should be the one walking you."

"Please," he scoffed. "I could never hope to match your elegance and beauty."

"Pushing for a raise, are you?" He only grinned as he held open her door. "By the way, I realize it's just before your finals week, but if you want to come in next Saturday, we could definitely use you. Had to fire that kid with the pink hair."

"Oh? Do tell."

"The daft fool kept charging low for the large sizes and high for the small sizes. Took me a while to figure out what she was doing wrong, but she kept coming up short in her drawer, and, well..."

"Guess she better go back to kindergarten and learn her numbers."

"I'll say," the woman laughed. "Thanks, Kurt. You take care, now."

"You, too, Lace," he nodded and stepped back as she shut the door and started her engine. He waved a little as she drove off, and then shivered at the sudden gust of wind that passed through the mostly-empty lot. "Geez, it gets cold at night," he muttered to himself as he turned and started toward his car. He had parked toward the edge of the lot, but was just under the last lamp, so he had no worries walking by himself, even so late at night. At least, he didn't until he caught a flash of silver on the navy blue frame, and his steps slowed as he faced the driver's side of the car and saw the word FAGGOT glaring up at him from an otherwise pristine paint job.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Brittany's phone went off mid-way through an almost disturbingly cheerful rendition of Goodbye Until Tomorrow and I Could Never Rescue You, and though Blaine was a little shell-shocked at being brought back to the real world, he was relieved, too at the interruption. Brittany was great, but she was a little exhausting, and he didn't know how she had so much energy when it was after midnight and she'd had a three-hour-long cheer practice the evening previously. To be honest, he hadn't planned on staying much longer after she had returned at nine-thirty, but apparently Rachel and Quinn were out for the night --still out, in fact, which he thought curious, but brushed it aside as really none of his business-- and Brittany, after popping in to sing a lullaby version of Titanium to Sunny, was desperate for company until Kurt came back.

"Please, please, please?" she had pleaded, and Blaine was starting to think he was just a sucker for blue eyes in general because here he was almost three hours later, with no end to the night in sight.

"Oh!" Brittany gasped and smiled in delight as she looked down at the phone in her hands. The ring was surprisingly generic for the bouncy, bubbly blonde, and he wondered why she didn't choose some bubblegum pop or something like that, when she went on, "It's Kurt."

He had been rising to go get a drink or perhaps even a snack, but he stilled as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Kurt! Are you on your way home?" The thought that he might be seeing the boy that had saved his Thanksgiving brought butterflies to his stomach, and he tensed in anticipation, tensing further when Brittany frowned. "Oh. Are you going shopping for something? If you are, I want some marshmallows. I found some graham crackers and thought we could make s'mores. Though, wait, I think we need chocolate, too. Kurt, can we get some chocolate, please? Or--"

He was a little dizzy trying to follow her, and forced himself up and into the kitchen area as she babbled on. It really didn't matter, Blaine told himself, that Kurt was coming home soon. He wouldn't be spending much time with him anyway before leaving himself. And the fact that Kurt hadn't been here tonight was proof positive that he was just a nice guy who didn't want a friend spending the holiday weekend alone, and nothing more.

Blaine sighed and walked back into the living area, two glasses of water in hand, the exteriors already dripping with condensation as he set them on the coasters on the coffee table.

"No, Rachel's still out," Brittany was saying. "I think she and Quinn are having lady time."

He almost choked on laughter as she whispered the last two words, and took a drink.

"No, I'm not alone. Sunny's in bed, and Blaine and I are declaring our love for each other."

He did choke then, and Brittany frowned at him curiously as he gasped and took another drink, because what the hell?

"No, Kurt, we can't do Wicked without Sunny. We're doing The Last Five Years. It's so pretty, Kurt. And Blaine's voice is like magic."

He blinked in surprise at the compliment, but then grinned. If he was going to stick around --and even if the only thing for him here was friendship, he was damn sure going to stick around-- he had better learn to keep up with the blonde better.

"Is that sirens I hear, Kurt?" she asked suddenly, and Blaine leaned forward and asked, "What's going on, Britt?" She frowned at him before her concentration was obviously stolen by the voice on the other end of the line, and she nodded several times, an "Uh-huh," interspersed here and there before saying, "Okay. We'll wait up for you, then. Love you. Uh-huh. Buh-bye."

She shut her phone and frowned down at the table before looking up at Blaine.

"Well?" he pressed when she only stared at him. "What's going on?"

"I think something happened at the coffee store. Kurt said he has to make a placement to the police."

"A placement?" Blaine frowned, and then shook his head. "You mean a statement."

"Yeah, that's what I said," she shrugged, still frowning. "He said everything was fine, Blaine, but he didn't sound fine."

Blaine leaned back to appraise the blonde, and a small smile curved his lips. He wondered if Kurt, if anybody, really, realized just how much she saw. She was something special, and anyone who brushed her off was in for a rude awakening. His smile dimmed, then as he pondered the meaning of her words. From what he had seen in previous weeks and these past few days, Blaine knew that Brittany was not only the mother of Kurt's child, but also his friend and confidante. So what had happened that he had to lie to the girl about it? What was he trying to keep from her?

"Perhaps," he began slowly, frowning, but nodding as he came to a decision, "Perhaps I should go. I mean, I don't need to butt in on family matters, and--"

"You can't," Brittany nearly shouted, and she snatched his hand in hers to stop him from leaving. "Kurt needs us. He needs you, Blaine, I can feel it. You have to stay. Please."

Blaine found himself sinking into the bright blue of her eyes, and he nodded, confused by her words, but accepting them for the truth she clearly believed them to be, regardless. She smiled brightly in return, and looked down at the second glass on the table.

"Is this for me?"

"Of course," he shrugged. "I figured you might need to relax your voice after all that singing we've been doing."

"That's very smart, Blaine," she nodded seriously, and he struggled to bite back a grin.

"Thanks. So since we're taking a break from singing, what should we do?" She frowned in contemplation, and he suddenly worried that a simple 'What should we do?' had too many answers that might end up wearing him out even more, so he quickly asked, "Why don't you tell me about school? I don't even know what classes you're in."

Her eyes lit up at that, and she nodded vehemently, her ponytail bouncing in her excitement, and he couldn't hold back the grin as she began, "Well, my absolutely favorite class would have to be..."