September, 1957. Kurt Hummel had come to Hollywood to make it big. He wanted nothing more out of life than to star in a movie with the likes of Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe. Unfortunately, what he didn't realize was that there were thousands of people like him. He had been in LA for a little over five months, and hadn't managed to book one show. Kurt had gotten lucky, somewhat. He got a job working on the set of a film that would be released the following year. His job was to take care of every need the actors expressed. It wasn't quite what Kurt was looking for, but it was a start.

The morning of his first day, Kurt was sprinting down the road. He had woken up later than expected and as a result was running down the crowded streets trying to make it to the studio on time. He checked his pocket watch as he sprinted. "Damn, five minutes." This was not a good start to his career.

He barreled through the entrance of his workplace and nearly ran over another man dressed in a smart black suit and a stylish fedora. His hair was gelled back, and his eyes were a warm brown. He looked at Kurt, who was muttering silent curses to himself.

"Hello. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to stand in front of the door."

"No no, it's fine." Kurt responded. "I really should be watching where I'm going." He gathered himself together and glanced at the handsome stranger, "I'm sorry, I'm really late and I need to get going." He waved and spun on his heel, making his way to the offices as fast as he could.

"Mr. Rothwell sir, I am very sorry I'm running late. I ran as fas—" The older gentleman had cut Kurt off with a raise of his hand.

"No need for excuses Mr. Hummel; we have work to do. Please, follow me." The man led Kurt to a hallway where the doors were labeled with the names of different actors. "Here is where you will be spending most of your time when you aren't with us filming on set. You are expected to take care of every need your assigned actors ask for."

Kurt glanced at the name plates. He saw from the corner of his eye a door labeled "Monroe."He silently pleaded to every deity he could think of, hoping to get assigned to his idol.

Mr. Rothwell continued, "You will have two that you need to take care of, a priority and a secondary. The priority must have all of their needs met. I don't care what you have to do to take care of them, but it's up to you to keep them happy. Without them we have no movie." The man clicked his tongue, trying to think of anything else. He handed Kurt a large wad of cash. "This is for any expenses, to be used ONLY for the actors. I will need whatever is left over back at the end of each day."

With that, he pulled a small notebook from inside his jacket pocket. "Okay, Hummel…" he scanned the pages. "You're primary is going to be Ms. Monroe…" Kurt let out a small squeal.

Mr. Rothwell raised his eyebrow, "I expect you will behave with a little more decorum around the stars Mr. Hummel?"

"Of course sir," Kurt nodded and looked at the ground.

"Good. Now, your secondary will be Mr. Anderson. Again, his needs come second to those of Marilyn. Both of them are on the set, I suggest you find them and introduce yourself. Keep them happy Mr. Hummel! I'll see you tonight when you drop off the left over cash." The stern man turned and left Kurt in the narrow hall.

Kurt allowed himself a moment to appreciate the fact that he would be talking to THE Marilyn Monroe in less than two minutes. He had no idea who his secondary was; he would have to ask around. Kurt rushed back to the main part of the studio and scanned the room for any signs of the blonde bombshell. He spotted her across the room speaking to the younger man he had run into earlier. He quickly composed himself and went to greet her.

"Hello Ms. Monroe," he said reaching out a hand. "I'm Kurt Hummel; I'll be here to take care of your every need. Well, yours and someone named Mr. Anderson, but his needs are nowhere near as important as yours are."

Marilyn laughed, and took Kurt's hand, "It's nice to meet you Mr. Kurt Hummel. Could you explain why exactly Mr. Anderson's needs are not as important?"

Slightly taken aback by the unexpected question, Kurt spoke, "Well, because you are the star of course! You're the priority!"

Marilyn's companion had a small, amused smile on his face. The starlet turned to him, "Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson, a dear friend of mine and still very important in my mind."

Kurt blushed scarlet. He tried to apologize to the man, Blaine Anderson, but couldn't manage anything more than a small noise.

Blaine laughed slightly, "Don't look so scared, I'm not going to fire you. I actually don't need to be here for another two hours so I'll see you two later." He saluted, winked at Kurt, and made his way back to his room.

The next few hours flashed by in what seemed like minutes. Despite how friendly she seemed, Marilyn was a very demanding actress. She had sent Kurt back three times before she was happy with the coffee he brought her that morning. She made the rest of the crew wait half an hour while she prepared her voice, and demanded Kurt was always right behind the camera in case she needed something else. Blaine had come out a few hours into the day. He had waved Kurt away when he asked if he needed anything.

"No thank you, I'll be fine," he had responded.

Finally, the filming wrapped for the day, and Kurt had begun to gather his things, ready to head out.

"Kurt dear!" Marilyn called from a chair near the director, "would you be a lamb and find me some maroon throw pillows for my dressing room? I need a color that compliments my skin tone!"

Biting back a sigh, Kurt smiled half-heartedly and told her he would be back as soon as possible.

Five stores and two hours later, Kurt had finally found them. They were covered in a soft, silk fabric. The deep red would look quite lovely when juxtaposed with Marilyn's blonde hair and fair skin. He made his way back into the halls and knocked on Marilyn's door. When she didn't answer, he cautiously opened the door and let himself in. She was sleeping on the couch, looking serene and beautiful as ever. He gently placed the pillows underneath her head, and slowly backed out of the room.

He closed the door and turned around. The next thing he knew, he was face to face with Blaine Anderson. The man was short, but very handsome nonetheless. He still wore his three piece suit and fedora, but now his dark hair now curled loosely around his ears, and he looked a bit worn. Still, his eyes shone with the kindness and intensity they had early that same morning.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked with a slightly concerned voice.

"Um, yes I'm fine. It's just been a long day. Do you need me to get you something?" Kurt really didn't want to have to run around anymore, but Blaine hadn't asked for anything but a cup of water the entire day, and he felt obligated to do so.

"No no, let me get you something. You look ready to collapse." Blaine turned to walk towards his room, signaling for Kurt to follow. Hesitating at first, Kurt entered the room and stood near the entrance.

The room was much simpler that Ms. Monroe's. A mirror, a stand, a couple of chairs, and a few personal items were strewn across the room.

"Would you like anything to drink?" He asked Kurt as he poured himself a small glass of scotch.

"N-no thank you."

Shrugging his shoulders, Blaine sunk down into a chair, and gestured for Kurt to do the same. He watched as Kurt uneasily sat down.

"I know this is a bit strange," he said after a moment, "but I've been in need of a conversation that did not revolve around this movie, and you were here, so I figured I would take advantage of the situation."

Kurt didn't say anything, but his expression cleared.

Blaine cleared his throat, "So, tell me about yourself Kurt Hummel, where are you from? Why are you here?"

"Well, I'm originally from Lima, Ohio…"

And with that, the two began to speak. They sat in the room together for another two hours, Blaine prompting Kurt, and then listening intently to his answers.

At last, Kurt stood up to leave. He had to return the money to Mr. Rothwell and get in a few hours of sleep before the next day. Blaine walked him to the end of the hallway.

"Thank you, Kurt, this was a lot more fun than everything else I've done today," he said, turning to his companion.

Kurt himself had enjoyed Blaine's company too. "Of course Mr. Anderson, I'm here to help you."

"Please, just Blaine. I'm not one for formal titles."

"Of course, Blaine," Kurt smiled. With one last wave, Kurt turned around and made his way to the main office. He glanced back and saw that Blaine was still watching him leave, smiling at him. Kurt let the sides of his mouth curl up. He then quickly turned away before he became fixed to the spot from the intensity of the other man's gaze.

As he left the building a few minutes later, having returned the money, he was looking forward to his next day at work. No longer because of Ms. Marilyn Monroe, but for another person all together. Blaine Anderson.