"I don't understand it," Santana whines, pulling the cookie sheet from the oven. "They're harder than Trouty Mouth's abs. What am I doing wrong?"

Kurt looks up from the TV where he's mainlining yet another season of Golden Girls and sighs when he sees the smoke rising off the tray in Santana's oven-mitted hand.

"You've got the oven up too high and they're drying out," Kurt says. He tosses the remote on the couch and walks into their kitchen. He picks up one of the less blackened cookies from the cooling rack on the table and bites into it.

"Oh my god, Santana! What did you put in those?"

"Don't get up all in my grill, Betty Cocker. I followed your recipe."

Kurt's eyes quickly scan the ingredients scattered over the table and the countertop. When he sees the large canister of salt sitting on the counter next to the flour, he sighs.

"The sugar's in the blue one," he says, reaching up to get it off the top shelf. "Salt is in the green." He nods over his shoulder to the open container.

"Shit." Santana flops down in one of their kitchen chairs and throws the oven mitt on table. "I suck."

"Nah, beginners mistake," Kurt says, with a shrug. "You did better than Finn when I tried to show him how to use a box mix. There was an erupting volcano of cake batter lava all over our kitchen."

"Sounds about right for Dumbledork," she says.

"Want some help?" Kurt asks. She nods and smiles meekly at him — well, meekly for Santana — and Kurt can't help but return it. Something about her defeated expression over the failed cookies gives him pause. He's still feeling a little guilty for kicking Santana out the week before, so he's being friendlier than normal, even though Santana is still acting out at every opportunity.

"Why are you baking anyway?" Kurt asks, carefully measuring out enough sugar for a fresh batch. "I'd ask if you're trying to impress a guy, but well..."

"Hey girls like cookies too," Santana says pointing a spatula threateningly at him.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at her and she puts the utensil down.

"Her name is Veronica," she says. "She said she was homesick for her mom's oatmeal cookies. I was trying to be nice."

"Careful," Kurt says with a smirk. "You might sprain something."

"Shut up." Her eyes are narrowed, but her mouth quirks up like she's fighting back a smile. Kurt suspects she's warming up to him a bit. And it occurs to him that he's actually starting to enjoy having Santana around.

They work in silence for a bit, Kurt measuring out ingredients while Santana stirs. When the first batch is in the oven, Santana sighs heavily and sits down. "So I found out Brody's not a drug dealer," she says.

Kurt hums noncommittally as he starts cleaning up the mess they've made. "Well that's good then."

"Not exactly. He's a freakin' gigolo."

Kurt drops a spoon and the resulting clang echoes harshly through the loft.

Santana nods slowly. "I have to admit, I'm kind of impressed. I didn't think that David Boreanaz wannabe had it in him."

"Wait... what?" Kurt asks. He's having a bit of trouble absorbing this information.

"Rachel's boy toy is actually a boy toy," Santana says, using a crude hand gesture for emphasis. Kurt's not sure he wants to know what exactly she's trying to mimic.

"Oh my god," Kurt says.

"I know," Santana says. "I even called in Frankenteen to avenge her honor. Well, more like I need the muscle and I couldn't trust you to go all Lima Heights on his ass. Finn's a loose canon, and he's totally obsessed with the Hobbit."

"You called Finn and you didn't tell me?" Kurt asks.

"Focus here, Hummel. Rachel's boyfriend is a dick for hire."

"Oh my god."

"Exactly."

"We can't tell her," Kurt says.

"What?"

"It would devastate her," he says. "We can't tell her. Promise me you won't tell her."

"Then what do I say when she asks why Finn is here?"

"Oh you can't tell her Finn is coming either."

"I think she's going to figure it out," Santana says. "He's kind of hard to miss."

Kurt looks thoughtful for a minute. That does pose a problem. Finn can't afford a hotel and Rachel would definitely want to know why he's in town. She may not even want to see him. "He can stay with Adam. I'll call him as soon as we're done here."

"You sure you want the brother staying with the new boyfriend?"

"He's not my–"

Santana holds up a hand in mock surrender. "Whatever you say," she says. "It's your life, lady."

The dish towel in Kurt's hand stills as he looks up. Santana is right; it's probably not a good idea have Finn and his big mouth anywhere near Adam.

"Maybe I can just tell Finn that I don't want Adam knowing about the wedding for Rachel's sake. He'll keep his mouth shut if he thinks he's protecting her."

He tries to ignore Santana's smug look as the timer dings on the cookies. Kurt pulls the sheet out of the oven and starts transferring them to the cooling rack. He swats at Santana's hand as she reaches for one of the warm cookies, but she dodges his maneuver and manages to snag one.

"You want to come with me tonight to see the ambush?" she asks around a mouthful of gooey oatmeal and cinnamon.

"As much as I appreciate your willingness to include me in everything — including a heinous view of your partially chewed food — I have plans."

Santana shrugs, picking at the cookie in her hand. "Suit yourself."

"Besides," Kurt says smirking at her. "I have to finish Veronica's cookies."

"That's my boy," Santana says, swatting him on the ass as she skips off.

"I'm not your boy," he yells after her.

"No, I think we both know whose boy you are," she calls out, slamming the bathroom door behind her. He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can speak, he hears the shower start up, ending the conversation.

"So do you think he's like... gay for pay?" Blaine asks solemnly after Kurt finishes filling him in on Brody's method for funding his NYADA education. Blaine had been shocked and concerned for Rachel, but now he sounds mostly curious about Brody's clients.

"Oh god I hope not," Kurt says.

"Yeah, but you said he's hot. Maybe you could–"

"Ew gross," Kurt interrupts. "I told you that was a moment of insanity I had when I first met him. It didn't even last as long as my crush on Sam."

"You had a crush on Sam?"

"A very brief, very superficial one, yes."

"Was it the lips?" Blaine asks, the earnestness clear even through a phone call.

"That and I thought he was gay."

The resulting squeak of Blaine's laughter makes Kurt's heart leap in an unexpected way.

"He highlights his hair," Kurt says. "What was I supposed to think?"

"The fact that he's only dated girls didn't clue you in?" Blaine teases.

"In all fairness I'd just met him," Kurt defends. "And you know... those lips."

Blaine laughs again and then sighs. "I know. He's always asking to borrow lip balm. It's... distracting."

"Blaine, is there something you need to tell me?" Kurt is teasing now. It's nice to talk to Blaine about cute boys and crushes and not feel any pressure to apologize. As friends they can do that.

"Uh, no... Like you said, he has nice lips. That's all. And anyway, we're just friends... bros."

"Bros?" The word mostly brings back pleasant memories, but does it mean something if Blaine just used it about Sam? He was sure Santana said Brittany and Sam are still together.

"Yeah," Blaine says.

"I'm starting to get concerned about your increasingly frequent use of that term," Kurt says, cringing at the sound of his own nervous laughter. "I think you've been hanging around Sam too much."

"I thought you love it when I talk fratty." Blaine sounds nervous too. That can't be good.

"In the heat of the moment, yes," Kurt says. "But otherwise it's just creepy. It's like Puck talking about Broadway or Finn dancing well. Completely unnatural."

"I'll take that under advisement."

Kurt smiles. "Or Tina talking about your ass."

"She's apologized," Blaine says. "Repeatedly."

"It's still creepy," he says, trailing off into a yawn. "Can you imagine if you'd been all over Sam like that?"

"You should get some sleep," Blaine says. And it's so typically Blaine, Kurt wants to tell him he can take care of himself, but he suddenly realizes how exhausted he is from trying to convince Santana not to tell Rachel about Brody.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he concedes. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Goodnight Kurt."

Kurt wonders if he's imagining the wistful tone in Blaine's voice. It brings him back to whenever they could manage to get some time alone and spend the night in the same bed. Blaine would always wish him a goodnight and kiss the top of his head as he wrapped his arm around Kurt, letting him cuddle in tight to his chest and listen to Blaine's accelerated heartbeat. He misses that.

"Goodnight," he says, fighting the sudden urge to tell Blaine he misses him. They're still just friends, and he's sort of dating Adam. And anyway, he's got Bruce.

Before he even hangs up the phone, Kurt plans to pull the pillow out of his trunk. He'll worry about the reasons why tomorrow.