This just popped into my head when I was watching RENT, see if you can see the similarities. Lol. I should be updating my other stories, but this is what happened instead, so enjoy! I don't own Glee, or RENT, or Marie Claire, or Vogue, because if I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. Please review.

Kurt hated being in this part of Manhattan. It wasn't as bad as say, Harlem or parts of Brooklyn or Queens, but there had been mugging in the area, and despite his ninja skills, it made Kurt edgy. Spreadsheets and editorials flew through his mind as he tried to mentally design that month's featured model page. He was lucky, he'd gotten a job at Marie Claire straight out of college and had been steadily working his way up the ladder. He'd received a call from Vogue a few days before and was seriously considering taking the offer to join them in the same position he was at Marie Claire, though he had the sneaky suspicion that he wouldn't get to the top as quickly at Vogue as he would at Marie Claire. Still Vogue was something you didn't turn down.

"Uhhh," the groan came from down the alley and Kurt froze, looking towards the source hesitantly. "Shit," came a pain filled grunt, and Kurt started toward the sound before stopping once more, remembering something on the news about how some gangs would lure their victims this way, pretending to be hurt just before they jumped them. But a soft cry, that Kurt didn't believe could be faked, he had studied acting in college as well and even he wasn't that good, made the decision for him. He looked around cautiously, even still, as he went toward the moaning. A man, around his age came into view. He had dark, curly hair, and what would soon become a black eye.

"Oh my God, are you ok, Honey?" Kurt asked, rushing toward him, pulling a piece of spare cloth from a dress he'd been looking at for a photo shoot and gently pressed it to the guy's busted lip.

"I'm alive, so I guess so," he replied, flinching against the pain of having his lip touched.

"Did they get anything or…?" Kurt asked, searching for any other injuries, only to notice the man was holding his stomach to soothe it.

"I didn't have any money but the bastards took my guitar," he hissed, and Kurt had the feeling that was all the man had really. His clothes, while well kept, were older, the sweater he was wearing was a bit nappy, though only enough that a copy editor of a fashion magazine would notice. The bottoms of his jeans were a bit tattered, and his shoes were a week away from falling apart.

"I'm Kurt," Kurt offered, as he carefully forced the man to look up at him so he could see his black eye and determine if he required a hospital or not. The man didn't respond at first and Kurt looked at his eyes to see that the man was blinking slowly at him, as though unsure he was real.

"Blaine," he finally said, a soft smile appearing on his face. Kurt's own smile grew and he stood, offering his hand,

"Come on, dinner's on me."

"Shouldn't I be paying for yours since you are after all the one who saved me," Blaine asked, only groaning slightly as he allowed Kurt to help him to his feet. Kurt chuckled lightly,

"I thought you said you didn't have any money." Blaine blushed and looked at his feet but then Kurt giggled again and Blaine looked up,

"You're cute when you blush." This only made Blaine blush more, "I am definitely going to have to find ways to make you do that all night." Kurt laughed once more as Blaine's face burned either further. Though they'd known each other less than five minutes, something about the other, told them this was just the beginning.

So there it is. Please please review. It didn't take you long to read, so please review. xoxo