It's hot, Kurt sighed, too hot. He was seated outside in the small outdoor seating of a restaurant. Him and his brother and cousins enjoyed their brunch, surrounded by everyday people and tourists, all of them enclosed by a flower-rimmed black gate. The sun gleamed down on them and the birds chirping blended with the vibrant hum of conversation. But, the meal wasn't as beautiful as it sounded, it was hot. The moment was really ruined by the pack of royal guards hovering over the boys' table. Kurt's argument had always been, "no one is shooting, why do we need to be watched?" But, he supposes his parents are right, nothing happens because the guards are there. Nevertheless, he views them as unwanted.

The conversation amongst the brothers and cousins varied between the topics- their kingdom's current conditions, inheritance, and girls. Aside from the state of their country, Kurt wasn't interested. As his step-brother and only brother, Finn, began cooing over the daughter of their sister kingdom's first gay rulers, Kurt excused himself.

"Shall I accompany you, sir Hummel?" A guard offered.

"No need, I'm just going to the powder room."

"But, sir,"

"I'll be fine, I can manage my pee alone, thank you." Kurt insisted. It might not have been the most graceful approach; it wasn't the most graceful approach, but he got the message. Those guards were getting on Kurt's last nerve.

He slowly walked through the restaurant, straight to the bathroom. Knowing he was being watched has always made Kurt a little self concious about his gait. Once inside the room, he relaxed, leaning against a wall to fan himself. The cool wall and AC was a welcome change, from the unusually brutal heat. Assuming he was alone, Kurt began humming to himself as he fixed his hair in the mirror. His song of choice was "I'll Cover You" from Rent, one of the many Broadway musicals he miraculously manages to sneak into his rare and busy New York visits.

Kurt hadn't expected for a short boy to emerge from the stall, seen through the mirror reflection. Kurt's humming ceased and he instantly wished he had brought that guard with him. Just as quickly as the thought emerged, it was smothered. He was being an unreasonable, spoiled brat, who inexplicably feared being alone with any unknown creature. This guy, probably around the same age as Kurt, was doing nothing wrong. He was washing his hands. And he looked harmless, black hair slicked back with unimaginable amounts of gel, hazel eyes and sunkissed olive skin. He was kinda cute, really. He was short, dressed in a navy and light blue stripped polo and white shorts. Kurt cursed the tacky hot pink sunglasses hanging from the shirt of the man, they threw the whole look off. However, the stranger made up for it with his "cute shoes."

"What?" The boy looked up from the sink, eyes wide. He hadn't expected for Kurt to speak to him, making concersation with strangers in the bathroom wasn't exactly the American way.

Shit, Kurt didn't mean to say that out loud, "oh, um, I said I like your shoes." He did, they were navy boat shoes that matched the stripes of the shirt.

"Thanks." The shorter boy blushed a light, returning his focus to his hands. Damn, he's hot! And that accent, wow, Blaine thought to himself. And who was he to ignore the customs of this man, Blaine was but a guest here. When in Rome, not that he was in Rome. "You seem to have pretty great taste yourself." Blaine commented, addressing the man's ensemble as a whole. Sinfully tight purple pants and a black and white button up. Plus back sunglasses resting strategically on top of his head, amongst expertly styled chestnut hair.

"Why thank you," Kurt gracefully accepted the compliment, just as he was taught. "I tend to ignore the local trends and usually dress more like the French and Americans. That's where you're from, no? The Americas?"

"Yeah, Ohio." He nodded.

"I thought so, your accent is kind of a give away." Kurt said. He usually didn't make a habit of having small talk, especially not in the bathroom with strangers.

"Accent? What accent?" Kurt just giggled in response. "You're the one with the accent." Blaine defended.

"Am I? Really?" Kurt asked, with a smirk.

"Yes, really." Blaine chuckled, "a very cute accent."

Now it was Kurt who blushed, "Whatever you say, Mr. Ohio."

"It's Blaine." He outstretched his hand.

"Kurt." The young prince took the hand, shaking it. He hoped Blaine didn't know who he was, which was possible considering he's a tourist.

"And you live here," Blaine pointed to the floor they stood on, "I'm assuming."

"No, not in this bathroom." Kurt mocked Blaine, making the boy grin. "But, this kingdom? Yes."

"That must be so cool, living in a Kingdom!" Blaine thought out loud.

Kurt just shrugged, "it has it's ups and downs."

"What do you mean?" The small boy asked, head cocked and nose crinkled, a face of adorable confusion.

Kurt ignored the question and instead asked his own, "do you know who I am?"

Blaine raised his scalene eyebrows and twisted his mouth, "Kurt, the cute guy I met in the bathroom?" He offered.

A smile formed on Kurt's lips. That was all he wanted to be, "Kurt", nothing more. He did love his family, just not what being in his family meant. Add on the Hummle-Hudson to the name and suddenly Kurt was someone, people suddenly cared. It really was exhausting. But with Blaine, he was just plain "Kurt." He nodded at Blaine, very pleased with the answer. "You know, I've always wanted to be on Broadway." Kurt confessed.

"Really?" Blaine sounded surprised.

Kurt nodded, "or work for Vogue or something. I'd give anything for New York."

"Me too." Blaine smiled, watching a plan unravel in his head. "That's where I'm going when I graduate. I'll launch a solo singing career, while also juggling any Broadway role I can get. Just one more year and I'll go and never look back."

"You're lucky to have that option. I'm stuck here." Kurt sighed.

"Why?"

"Family reasons." Kurt was telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

"Ah, well, how about I give you my number. And if you manage to sneak out to America, whether you're moving or even just visiting, give me a call." Blaine offered.

"I'd like that." Kurt grinned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He opened a new contact and handed the phone to Blaine.

Once the number was added, Kurt offered to put his number into Blaine's as well. But, before he could, there was a knock at the door.

"Sir Hummel?" Shit, they found me. When both boys just stared at the door, not responding, it opened. "Ah, there you are, sir. Don't you think you've been in the powder room for long enough?" The royal guard spoke to Kurt.

He supposed the guard was right, irritating, but right. Blaine's hands have long since been washed and dried, to the point that not a single drop remains. And Kurt lost the heat endured flush in his cheeks, replacing it with a blushing glow only created by looking at Blaine's trusting eyes.

"Yes, of course. I'll follow you out." The guard nodded, taking orders and leaving. Before following, Kurt turned to a shocked Blaine. "I'll call you." He mouthed to the boy, only getting a stunned nod in return. He's a fucking prince. Blaine thought, that's so cool! Never would he admit this to Kurt in the many future years they spend together, but he stayed in that bathroom happy dancing for a good five minutes. Prince or not, he knew one day he would marry that man.