"Well, of course, silly, you didn't think time stopped just because you were having fun, did it?"

The blonde man sighed, and shook his head as he looked down at his blonde counterpart.

"Sometimes, I think you say things in that sweet innocent voice of yours just because you know it gets on my nerves."

"Oh, do I, now?" she laughed, and he smiled and leant down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

"Quinn, you will be the death of me."

"Always the plan, Sam. Always the plan."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

The two turned as one--and times like now, it really did seem like they were the same perfect, beautiful, blonde creature split into two--and smiles lit up both their faces as they faced the tall, slim, brunette leaning in the doorway.

"Mister Hummel," Sam grinned and reached out a hand in greeting. "How are you?"

"Just fine, Professor. And you?"

"Never better. Great paper on Thoreau, by the way. You never cease to amaze me with your grasp of the English language, Mister Hummel."

Kurt couldn't help but preen at the words, though he kept his reaction mostly internal.

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from you."

Sam smiled gently at the younger man, and then turned back to Quinn.

"Well, honey, I think that's my cue to exit. I'll see you later tonight, then?"

"Of course, Sam. And thanks again for all your help."

"Anytime," he grinned, pressing another quick kiss to her lips before walking past Kurt and out the door.

Kurt's eyes followed him down the hall for a moment before he turned back to the beautiful former cheerleader and raised a brow.

"Fraternizing with the enemy, Quinn?"

She scoffed at his words, and pulled him further into the room before pushing him down into a cushy velvet brown sofa.

"Please, Kurt. He's just my ex."

"And he kissed you."

"He does it all the time."

"What did he help you with?"

"Just fixing some virus on my computer."

"And you're seeing him again tonight?"

For the first time, she looked remotely uncomfortable before she sunk down into the chair across from him and said, "His mother is in town, and I promised I would have dinner with them."

That delicate brow arched once more as Kurt said bluntly, "You've been divorced how many years now? Five?"

"Just four," she corrected, a slight flush on her creamy skin, and she sighed. "I told you how the Evanses took me in back in high school. His mother is like my mother. I can't just not go to dinner when she asks."

Kurt rolled his eyes but only commented, "You know, for being a certified counselor at a high-brow university, you sure do have a lot of unresolved issues."

"I like to think that makes me more approachable," she said sweetly, and stood once more to walk over to the small counterspace off to the side. "Would you like some tea, Kurt? Oh, and I have those ginger cookies you love."

He could feel his mouth salivating at the thought, but he shook his head.

"Just tea, please, thank you."

As much as he loved the sweet treat, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time he went outside the bounds of his strictly-regimented diet. It just wasn't fair of him to harp on Brittany so much about what she ate and then turn around and make the same mistakes himself. Quinn eyed him knowingly, but nodded as she turned the kettle on. Kurt took a moment to take in the room. It was full of warm tones, browns and golds mixed throughout the eclectic jumble of furniture, with a deep honey gold on the walls, the only accents being a dark green leaf pattern toward the ceiling. It wasn't a show-place, no, but it was cozy, and warm, and Kurt somehow felt at home whenever he stepped inside Quinn's offices.

"So what brings you to my humble abode?" she began, sitting again across from him. "We usually don't meet until Monday. Not to mention it's the weekend."

"I saw your car on my way to the practice rooms, and thought you might have a moment or two," he shrugged and she smiled in return.

"So what's going on, then? Tell me what couldn't wait until Monday."

"It's not so much that it couldn't wait," he hedged and flushed a little as he said, "I just don't want Brittany to know yet."

Her green eyes widened, though there was a spark of mischief in them as she said casually, "You know you shouldn't keep secrets from your lover, Kurt. It's not healthy for the relationship."

He leveled a glare at her and shook his head.

"Quinn, please. I like you, but there's only so much I can take before I decide to splurge on a psychiatrist from one of those fancy high-rises downtown."

"Yes, because your pocketbook is just bursting at the seems," she said lightly before retaining a serious expression. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'll be good, I promise. So what did you want to tell me?"

He looked around the room, anywhere but at her, catching a hint of snowfall out the half-closed drapes over the window on the far wall, and then blurted, "I may have met someone."

Kurt jumped at the squeal that started simultaneously with the sharp whistle of the kettle, and then laughed as Quinn got up, gave him a quick hug, before dancing over to turn off the burner beneath the kettle and poured them both a cup of tea.

"That's so exciting, Kurt!"

"Uh, yeah," he laughed, blushing still.

She somehow managed not to spill a drop as she danced back over to him, teacups in hand, and put them down on the small glass coffee table between their chairs. Instead of sitting across from him as she had, she squeezed in next to him on the sofa, and he shifted over a little to give her room. Her eyes were wide and excited as she turned to look at him, and put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently, as she leaned into him.

"Tell me everything."

He rolled his eyes and gently extricated his shirt from her grasp.

"There's not much to tell, really."

"What's his name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"I know him. He hasn't come in to see me, but he's good people. He always plays at the talent show, and he's Professor Libby's assistant in the physics lab."

"Physics? Well, damn, he might be too smart for me, then."

"Oh, hush," she swatted at him tenderly. "You could do anything you want, Kurt; you're smarter than me, even."

"Well, I already knew that."

"Hey!"

"But seriously," he shook his head, reigning in his grin, "I really like him."

"And he likes you."

"Well, I don't know about that..."

"Come on, Kurt. What's not to like? Other than that whole high-maintenance without actually being able to afford it thing."

"You're not helping, Quinn."

"Sorry, sorry. So how did you meet?"

Kurt blushed again, and bit his lip.

"It's embarrassing, really. He caught me singing Def Leppard in the laundry room."

"Def Leppard? You?" She cocked her head to the side, contemplating, before shaking it in the negative. "Sorry, I can't see it."

"Yeah, well, I was singing, quite loudly, at three in the morning."

"Oh, ouch," she winced, and he nodded.

"Yeah. I'd had an emergency with Sunny--"

"Oh, no, is she all right?"

"Yeah, it was just a little bug. Gone in a day. But so I was doing laundry, and I had my iPod turned way up, and then one moment I turned around, and there he was."

"The most beautiful thing you had ever seen," Quinn teased, and he grinned.

"Well, yeah, you could say that."

"And he asked you out?"

"Uh, no," he returned, his grin falling. "Brittany sent a text that Sunny was sick again, so I had to run."

"Oh, well, shoot. Not that you shouldn't have gone, but what timing."

"You're telling me."

"So what happened next?"

"Next?"

"Come on, Kurt, you can't make me believe it ended there."

"Well...okay. So then yesterday, I was doing laundry again--"

"And what did he catch you singing this time?"

He flushed a little before answering, "Next to Normal's 'Just Another Day.'"

"Ooh, I love that musical."

"Yeah, it's my dream show," Kurt sighed, and they sat in silence a moment, both dreaming of what might have been had they gone out east--or stayed out east, in Quinn's case. And then Quinn nudged him back to reality and he turned to look at her beautifully made-up face, and sighed. "What's next?"

"What's next," she nodded, and he sighed again.

"Nothing, really. We talked for a little bit; he asked after Brittany--"

"You told him about Brittany?" she asked, surprised and curious at once.

"Nothing in-depth," he shook his head. "But I'd mentioned her the last time, when I had to cut our conversation short."

"I see," she nodded. "Go on."

"And so I mentioned how she was sick--"

"I thought Sunny had been sick?"

"She got better, and then Brittany caught it, and has been sick since Wednesday."

"Oh, the poor girl."

"Yeah, well, she's feeling better this morning, anyway. Enough that I took her off of quarantine so she could watch Sunny."

"Quarantine, Kurt? Really?"

"I couldn't risk Sunny getting sick again," he retorted defensively, sitting up straighter as he did so. "She's just a baby."

Quinn's expression turned soft, and she laid a hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. That makes perfect sense, really. I just don't know too much about kids, so I wouldn't think of that."

He sniffed, only slightly mollified by her words, but let it pass.

"Yes, well, so Blaine and I talked about how there seemed to be a bug going around, and then he asked me about my classes, and what I was majoring in and stuff, and then he got called away, and I finished my laundry in peace."

Quinn waited a moment, as if for him to add something, and when he didn't, asked, "Is that it?"

"Um, yes?"

"He didn't ask you out for coffee or dinner or the rest of his life?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the outrage on her face, and pressed his hand to hers over his knee.

"Quinn, I know you think I'm great, but honestly, this guy was gorgeous. If you've seen him--"

"I've seen him."

"Then you know. He could have any guy he wanted."

"But how many gay guys are there in Montana, Kurt?"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't want him to want me just because his options are limited."

She raised a brow, and simply stared at him, her expression calculating, and after a moment, Kurt began to fidget under her gaze.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

She spent another moment staring before setting back and picking up her tea, and taking a sip. Kurt took that opportunity to take his up as well, and he reached for the sugarbowl at the end of the table and grabbed a few cubes before stirring them into his beverage.

"I wonder," Quinn began, and he eyes her curiously.

"Yes?"

"Does he know you're gay?"

Kurt laughed, and took a drink before replying, "Quinn, come on. Have you looked at me? I may be on a budget, but no straight man looks as good as I do. And unless their into that whole goth thing--"

"Ew."

"Then there is not a one of them who would dare to wear skinny jeans like I do."

"And silvery, sparkly ones at that," she mused and he rolled his eyes.

"You know you could pull them off, too, if you wanted."

"That's the problem, Kurt. I don't think I could get them off after I got them on." They both laughed at the image that brought up before she continued, "But I'm serious, Kurt. Even in Montana, you can't judge somebody by their cover. And you were singing Def Leppard the night you met."

"But I was singing Celine Dion and Gypsy before that," he returned, "and since I probably woke him up that night, there's no doubt he heard at least one of those before he got to the laundry room. And Next to Normal? It might not be a frou-frou show, but it's still Broadway, Q."

She nodded slowly, and then asked, "So maybe he's straight, then?"

"Oh, God, Quinn, don't crush me. And I'm pretty sure no, he's not, because most straight guys don't casually flirt with other guys."

"So he does like you," she grinned, and he sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"But he didn't ask you out," she frowned again, and he laughed.

"It was only our second meeting, Quinn. I don't think--what's wrong?"

Quinn's eyes had suddenly gone wide, as if she'd had an epiphany, and she looked at Kurt in a what seemed suspiciously like horror.

"Quinn?"

"Brittany," she said simply, and he waited but she didn't elaborate, and he rolled his shoulders back in irritation.

"What about Brittany?"

"When you mentioned her to him, how did you do it?"

"What do you mean, how did I do it?"

"Did you say her name or what?"

"Because he would totally get who I was talking about if I just randomly said Brittany needed me," Kurt scoffed, and she shook her head and put her cup of tea down on the table before taking his as well, and putting her hands on his face. "Quinn, what are you--"

"What did you call her, Kurt?"

As a school counselor, it was pretty much an unspoken rule that you had to be approachable and friendly, and nice, to boot. Quinn was all that and more, and Kurt had never regretted cultivating their friendship outside of the sessions he had with her and his other girls every week. He had just now discovered, however, that there was another side to Quinn. A dark, scary side.

Her eyes flashed, and he gulped down over his sudden nerves, and said, "I just said that my girlfr--"

And then it clicked.

"Shit."