He can tell they're newbies the moment they walk in - their wide eyed stares at the goings on in the club a dead give away. He can also tell they're together; they have a familiarity with each other that he could spot from a mile away. The taller boy looks uncomfortable but the shorter one says something that makes him smile as they walk through the club. They end up in front of the bar and he smiles at them, hoping he can make them feel more at ease.

“First timers?” he asks, leaning his hands on the bar.

He fights the urge to coo when the two blush, looking far too naive to be standing in bar, even as the shorter one offers a smile. “First time here, yes.” The taller one mumbles something, but he only catches something about a scandal among the hurried words. “I'm Blaine, by the way,” the shorter boy adds, “and the amazing man next to me is my fiance Kurt.”

“Subtle, Blaine.” He can't help the laughter then, but quickly forces himself to stop and reply. “Sorry, but I could tell you two were an item as soon as you walked in.”

“A friend of ours recommended this place so we thought we'd check it out,” Blaine explains and he nods, wondering if it was one of their regulars.

“Well, why don't I get you started with something to drink?” he says, checking their IDs. “What'll it be?”

Even their drink orders are adorable; a Shirley Temple with extra cherries and a club soda. He serves them their drinks with a smile and then gestures to the loud, crowded room. “Have a good time boys.”

And apparently they do, because they keep coming back after that. Once a week, on Friday night, like clockwork.

By their third visit - not quite regulars yet - they have a following, even if they don't know it. The regulars keep an eye out for them, steering some of the more intoxicated patrons away from the boys' adorable (and yet somehow still sexy, and damn, he really is going to hell) dancing.

They always come as a pair, and his initial wariness at having such a young couple with a ring involved - he's a bartender, he's seen the fallout - fades as time passes. They're genuinely happy, and their ease with each other speaks of a trust he's rarely seen outside of his television.

It's during their fourth night in the club, when the pair has found their own corner of the dance floor, that things get interesting. The regulars somehow overlook a drunk and lonely guy at the bar, nursing a rum and coke, not noticing him until he's practically on top of the boys. He's too far away to stop it, can only watch as the guy says something that causes Kurt to pull back from Blaine and stare in shock.

It's Blaine who replies to the drunk guy, before pressing himself closer to Kurt and burying his face in Kurt's neck as they dance.

The lonely drunk stares for moment - and he really doesn't want to think about why he's still looking - before he reaches again. Blaine's taken a protective stance before any of the regulars can cross the floor, and he would never have guessed the shorter boy could look threatening. Kurt murmurs something then, leaning into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine relaxes then, going from threatening - and really, how the hell? - to dismissive. The two turn away, returning to their dance; the regulars offer each other high-fives.

He can't help but laugh when the ignored interloper returns to the bar and demands a drink.

From that night on, it becomes something of a game amongst those brave enough to try. Someone inevitably gets passed the regulars and approaches them. The invitations surely range from a dance to things far more lewd (though he's always behind the bar and can't hear what's being said), but Kurt and Blaine never go for it. They always arrive together, then dance and drink until the wee hours before leaving together. No one manages to get between them, not even once.

They don't know it, but Kurt and Blaine are well on their way to becoming the club's most popular patrons.

It's not that there aren't other couples at the club, and it's not like they're old enough to be the couple that's been together the longest, but somehow the two simply draw the spotlight. They dance and get their drinks and spend the nights being generally too adorable to ignore.

Of course, the fact that they're both gorgeous helps, too.

It's probably why there's always one too many hopefuls for the regulars to dissuade, even though it's obvious - even to the intoxicated - they're a couple.

And that's before they become the envy of every Broadway wannabe by singing.

The fact that they're both NYADA students comes up early on in their visits to the club and he knows what that means - in addition to being completely gorgeous and ridiculously in love with each other, the boys have to be talented as well. The first time that Kurt's voice soars above the crowd, it's a magical moment. And when Blaine joins him, the DJ adjusting the volume for their voices, he knows the men vying for their attention is only going to increase.

And it does. They become a legend, a cautionary tale to new club goers. It becomes a thing among everyone, to see if someone will finally be the one that comes between them.

But no one seems to get close. As the weeks pass the regulars start to let a few more - always harmless - attempt. It's not that they want the endearing-hot-perfect-talented couple to break up, it's just that the failed attempts are hilarious.

Kurt and Blaine seem to switch between playing - or not, maybe they are that naive - dumb and being adorably possessive. Granted, even them being possessive is an odd combination of adorable and hot.

He is so going to hell.

At least the hopefuls always return to the bar, and then he reaps the benefits of the “could have been” drinks.

It finally happens one night - Blaine comes in by himself. He's actually worried and he can see the concern on the faces of the other regulars as well. Blaine himself is cheerful though, as he sits down at the bar and orders a drink.

“Where's Kurt?” he asks as nonchalantly as possible, handing Blaine his club soda.

“The airport,” Blaine replies, taking a sip. “He's picking up a friend of ours who's been on an out of town run of a Broadway show she's working on.”

“Oh, what show?” He loves Broadway, as do most of the other customers in the club.

“Funny Girl,” Blaine answers.

“Good show. Your friend must be tired though; I've heard some horror stories about the rehearsals for ensemble cast or crew members.”

“Oh,” Blaine looks startled for a moment, “she's actually the lead. I don't think Rachel knows how to be anything less than the center of attention.”

He freezes, sets the half-finished Long Island on the counter with a clink. “You know Rachel Berry?”

“Yes?” Blaine's tentative response has him reeling - Kurt and Blaine are already a source of intrigue for the regulars, their looks and personalities making them stars - and now, now he finds out they know Broadway's current starlet, Rachel Berry.

Blaine and Kurt are never going to be left alone again.

He nods at the regulars, smiling at them to let them know that there's nothing wrong. Kurt comes rushing through the crowd then, dropping onto the barstool beside Blaine and pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek.

“Rachel get home okay?”

“Well, it's Rachel, so her definition of okay and yours probably differ, but yes,” Kurt answers. “I'm sorry I was so late.”

“It's okay,” Blaine tells him, smiling. “I was in good company.”

“Yes, but now I've missed over half of our dancing time,” he points out. Then he takes Blaine by the hand, leading him out to the crowded floor.

He shakes his head at the boys' excitement, and catches the impatient glare of the customer whose drink he'd forgotten with the news that Kurt and Blaine are on a first name basis with Rachel Berry. He offers a sly wink and returns to the drink, sliding it across the bar moments later.

He gets a nod in return, and then the customer (no smile, so probably no tip; he makes a mental note to water down future orders) turns to stare out at the dance floor. He sees the moment No Smile catches sight of the boys - he leans forward in his interest.

He watches as No Smile sets down his drink with a determined expression on his face and gets up, heading across the floor to where Kurt and Blaine are practically inseparable. He can't hear what's said but Kurt and Blaine's facial expressions are certainly interesting. No Smile apparently can't take a hint, as Kurt's shaking his head repeatedly. The guy comes storming back to his seat a moment later, tossing back the rest of his drink before demanding he be cashed out. He takes the credit card slip from No Smile once he's done, and sure enough, no tip.

He goes to put the receipt in the drawer and that's when he sees it - one of the regulars is demanding the other ‘pay up.'

Damn, why hadn't he thought of that?

Actually, why the hell hadn't he been invited to join?

He decides the regulars' next drinks will be a bit strong; they tip better when they're happy - and tipsy - and apparently they have money to burn. He smiles to himself as he glances back out at the dance floor. Apparently No Smile has brought out the boys' possessive side; they may not be engaging in PDA like some of the other patrons, but a piece of paper would be hard pressed to fit between them.

He sees the boys heading for the bar some time later and he has their drinks across the counter by the time they arrive, laughing with flushed cheeks.

“Having a good time?”

“Of course!” Blaine's voice is bright, and Kurt offers a nod and smile before taking a sip of his drink.

“Same time next week?” he offers and both boys nod before heading out into the night.

The routine doesn't change much and by now, most guys know (or are warned in advance) that Kurt and Blaine aren't going to be up for whatever they try to suggest. He doesn't even think much about it anymore, enjoying talking to the boys when they come in and getting all the tidbits they let slip about Funny Girl (which have most of the regulars all a flutter).

And then No Smile shows up, plunking himself down on a bar stool and ordering. He makes the drink, sure to water it down a little because he's still just a little pissed about the lack of tip from last time.

Further down the bar, Kurt says something that has Blaine laughing loud enough to be heard over the music. In front of him, No Smile turns as well. He feels a brief flash of irritation - No Smile has already struck out with the boys and he doesn't tip - he adds more ice to the order and is glad the counter hides how hard he shakes the mixture.

“They come in here often?”

That line, really? Well, he's not about to make it easy. “Who?”

No Smile nods down the bar and he sees Kurt laughingly pulling Blaine from his barstool, leading him to the dance floor. “Those two playin' hard to get.”

“Pretty sure they're not playing,” he says, handing No Smile his drink.

“Those two? Of course they're playing,” No Smile says.

“Then I'd like you to explain why every guy who's ever tried anything with them has been struck down, yourself included,” he replies, trying to keep the anger and annoyance out of his voice.

“Please,” No Smile scoffs, “I could land both of them. It's all about your approach. Used the wrong one last time.”

Well this he just has to see. “Oh, really?” he asks, the corners of his mouth drawing up into a smile. “You wanna bet?”

The words leave his mouth and oh, he is going to hell. Betting on Kurt and Blaine, the endearing-hot-perfect-talented couple who are also genuinely nice people.

But this is such easy money, and hell is where the fun is, after all.

No Smile goes against his name, offers him a wink and smile that's supposed to be sly but instead has him repressing a shudder. “Why not. When I get one or both,” and oh God, another wink, he's going to owe Kurt and Blaine drinks for life, “you can write off my tab.” No Smile pointedly finishes his drink, gestures for another.

He works on the order - adding more ice than the recipe calls for, “Sure thing, buddy. And when they don't even notice you? You pay me back for all those missing tips.” He offers a smile then, it won't do if No Smile doesn't think he's joking.

“Sure thing,” No Smile agrees, his tone indicating that he clearly thought he would win. “Wish me luck.” No Smile downs the contents of his glass and then makes his way toward Kurt and Blaine.

“Good luck,” he murmurs under his breath. “You're gonna need it.”

No Smile says something to Kurt, putting his hand down on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine immediately looks uncomfortable, blushing and clearly trying to stammer out something in reply. He hates himself in that moment (he's never charging Kurt or Blaine for another drink, ever, ever again), because he's the reason Blaine is having to put up with No Smile's smarmy tactics.

And then Kurt goes from looking merely annoyed to scary as hell. If it were possible, he's certain No Smile would be on fire from the strength of Kurt's glare. And then, Kurt pointedly reaches for Blaine's hand before saying something to No Smile that has the man's ‘smile' falling even as he trips over his feet in his haste to step back.

Damn. Apparently both boys can go from adorably cute to freaking terrifying when defending the other.

Absently, he wonders what it says about him that that fact has him intrigued, rather than guilty for putting them in that position in the first place.

No Smile looks like he's about to say something else but Kurt cuts him off by planting a fierce kiss on Blaine's lips. The crowd around them (watching the events unfold with rapt attention, naturally) hoots and hollers. Blaine looks dazed when they pull apart and he feels like he's intruding on an intimate moment as he watches them stare at each other. Blaine moves, taking Kurt by the hand and the two of them practically run out of the bar.

No Smile returns to him after a moment and he can't help but grin wildly.

“All about the approach, huh?” He can't help but ask. Internally, he lets out a sigh, too. For a moment he'd worried he'd have to hope the regulars would step in.

No Smile gestures for a drink. “How was I to know they're the one ‘couple' in New York who believe in monogamy.”

He smiles, knows it's not even remotely conciliatory but can't bring himself to care; he's guaranteed tips anyway. “They're certainly one of a kind,” he slides the drink over with a smile, “so, about my tip.”

“You'll get your tip,” No Smile says as he leans against the counter, “and keep ‘em coming. The best looking guys in the bar just left; I need enough alcohol to make me forget I'm getting second choice.”

He raises his eyebrows in response but gets No Smile a drink without saying anything. He looks around and sees money changing hands again - he wasn't the only one who bet on Kurt and Blaine. He watches as No Smile approaches someone else and appears to get shot down again. No Smile comes back to his seat after that, scowling as he hands over enough cash to pay his bill and an extremely generous tip.

“This club sucks,” No Smile grouses, turning to leave.

He just smiles to himself and tucks the tip into the pocket of his jeans.

Half the regulars were against No Smile the moment he cornered Kurt and Blaine, and he's sure No Smile's personality took care of the rest.

Oh well, it was easy money.

Kurt and Blaine return the following week; at least No Smile wasn't enough to keep them from the bar. He passes them their drinks with a smile, tells Blaine to keep his money.

“Think of it as a good-will gesture after last week. No one wants the best singers in the club to leave because of some sleaze.” It's not a lie, not really, it's just missing certain details.

It should have been a one time thing. He probably should have just left it alone, but he couldn't help himself the next time he saw some random guy eyeing the boys. So he bets Random Guy, the same bet he'd given No Smile, free drinks versus a generous tip.

Random Guy offers a smarmy smile and strides out to where Kurt and Blaine are showing their skills on the dance floor. Random guy gets close, but they don't even see him - eyes never leaving each other.

He can't help but laugh.

Random Guy returns ten minutes later, sullen from having been so thoroughly ignored. He proceeds to get so thoroughly drunk that his tip makes up for any slackers for the previous week.

Life is good.

And so is the money.

It continues on that way for weeks. If Kurt and Blaine have any idea, they don't let on.

He should probably feel bad about it, but he can't quite bring himself to. The way he figures it, the boys are gonna get propositioned anyway, so why shouldn't he get something out of it? He stops charging the boys for drinks in recompense, telling them that it's because they're just too ‘damn adorable.'

And because they are so ‘damn adorable' they actually believe him. Somehow despite Ohio not being a mecca of acceptance, it produced two sweet, trusting boys.

At least this way he can look out for them; the regulars still keep an eye out, but by betting the hopefuls he knows ahead of time who's going to approach. He still feels a hint of guilt, the boys certainly deserve to enjoy themselves on their night out, but none of the betters are dangerous...just a bit too full of themselves.

Plus, he gets a perverse pleasure in watching their faces as they're turned down by two sweet boys.

It's an addiction.

Then the one thing happens that he never expected in all the time that Kurt and Blaine have been coming there - they bring along Rachel Berry and a group of their friends. It's the opening night of Funny Girl and things are insane from the moment they arrive. He slips Kurt and Blaine an actual drink or two so they can celebrate with their friends (which probably explains the group groping going on at one of the couches across the dance floor) and that seems to have brought out the determination in a few people in the crowd (the ones not gushing all over Rachel, of course).

Kurt's approached first, his enthusiastic dancing a siren song to a guy with an unfortunate buzz cut. The smile slips from his face when Buzz Cut approaches and leans a bit too close. Beside him, Blaine looks like a someone stole his puppy before his face tightens and he moves half a step in front of Kurt, takes his hand in a possessive hold. He can't hear what's said, but as he watches the boys' faces become more hardened; it takes longer than usual for Buzz Cut to get the hint, and by the time he's back at the bar Kurt and Blaine have lost their loose energy, instead sitting somewhat sullenly (if close) on one of the sofas.

Buzz Cut comes back to the bar and cashes out. He collects his tip and slips it into his apron, then glances over to check on the boys. They're staring at him, both of them trying to figure out what they've just seen. He flashes them a smile and a wink and goes back to mixing drinks for the customers.

“How long?” he hears a higher pitched voice ask. He turns around to see Kurt standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. He glances around for Blaine and spots him off dancing with Rachel.

“How long….” he trails off, hoping Kurt will give him more to go on.

Kurt nods to where his tip rests in his pocket.

Shit.

“It's not…” he trails off. Screw being sent to hell, he's now there.

“It's not you getting money after we turn down increasingly narcissistic men?”

Yup. Kurt's stone cold sober, using four syllable words and everything. He opens his mouth to reply when Blaine comes to a stop beside Kurt, slinging an arm around his waist.

“Did you get the -” Blaine trails off, glances between them and gives him a narrow look. “Everything okay?”

Damn. They're both sober. And apparently Hell is being confronted with your sins by two adorably sweet gay men.

He's sure his grandmother would find it fitting.

He sighs, pulls his tip from his pocket and sets it on the counter. “You two are a rarity, you know? Talented and good looking and the couple - and you're young. At first it was just...you're so young and you're engaged. We - I just was curious. But then,” he shrugs, offers an apologetic smile, “you always turn them down, and believe it or not, but bartending isn't lucrative. “

“So you were betting on us being a sure thing?” Blaine asks, his whole face lighting up.

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at the pile of money in front of him.

“That's so sweet,” Blaine practically coos. “Honey, isn't that sweet?”

Maybe Blaine isn't quite as sober as he thought.

Kurt cracks a smile but it's all for Blaine. “I think you need to explain,” Kurt says, the pair of them sitting down.

So he does. He tells them about how in almost eight months, they've turned down almost a hundred men. He tells them that he never sent anyone in their direction, just earned money from the ones who were going to approach them anyway. He tells them that from now on, they'll drink for free.

During his explanation Blaine's face lost its smile and Kurt's remained frustratingly blank. Now, they simply stare at him for a moment before turning to face each other.

They're too young to drink but already can have silent conversations. He's been in more relationships than their respective ages and has never reached that level. For a moment, rather than guilt, he feels a surge of envy.

Hell, right. Guilt, envy - maybe by the end of the night he'll go through all the mortal sins.

Kurt and Blaine turn to face him then, faces still unreadable. Time for his judgment.

“Wow,” Blaine says after a moment.

“I don't know whether to be impressed at your ingenuity or feel used,” Kurt murmured.

“I didn't mean to use you,” he says, frowning. “It's just - you're so together, so in sync, there's no way anyone could come between you.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “Man, was it fun watching them try, though.” He pauses, trying to think of how he can make it up to them. “Look,” he continues, “here's what I made from the one tonight. It's yours.”

“We can't take your money,” Blaine tells him softly.

“Please, just… take it.” He put it on the counter. “Put it in the Kurt and Blaine wedding fund. Besides,” he gestures to the counter, “it's not like I'd have any of it without you two.”

Kurt and Blaine share a glance, and he accepts the flare of jealousy it brings with an internal sigh. There's slight shrugs and a myriad of facial expressions before they turn back to face him with faces too blank to read.

Shit.

“No,” Kurt's voice is calm, flat, “you wouldn't.” Kurt's hand rests on the counter, his left - his right is probably tangled with Blaine's: he knows Kurt is right handed - before he continues. “But none of the...gentlemen,” he pointedly ignores Blaine's grimace and the guilt it brings, “were too problematic. And I understand the allure of tips,” Kurt gifts him a quirk of a smile, “so thank you for the wedding donation, but we're only entitled to half.”

“You sure?” he asks, counting out the bills on the counter. Kurt and Blaine exchange another glance.

“Of course,” Blaine assures him.

“Okay,” he finally agrees, pocketing his half. Kurt takes the pile on the counter and slips it into the rim of his knee high boot. “But,” he sets their usuals down on the counter, “how about all your drinks being on me?” he offers.

“Now that we'll take you up on.” Kurt smiles. He leans on the bar and smiles, glad to be back in their good graces.

He ignores the leering customer two seats down.

“Thanks for not being too upset,” he says. “I screwed up.”

“Next time, if there is a next time, just don't.” Kurt replies, taking Blaine by the arm to lead him back onto the crowded dance floor.

“Oh, there'll be a next time,” he tells them confidently after a quick glance down the bar at Leering Guy. These two are always going to draw men like flies to honey.

“I doubt it,” Kurt responds, “now that there's nothing else in it for them.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says, unable to help himself. “Wanna bet?”

Kurt glances at Blaine and the pair of them look back at him, smiling.