Ask anyone in Fort Worth the best place for a whiskey and a poke, and they'll point you in the direction of the L&L saloon. The owner, Mr. Kurt Hummel, is fair and bright. He'll listen to your problem, poor you a nice shot of the finest whiskey Texas has to offer, and suggest the perfect girl for the night. The girls themselves are true delights.
Rachel is small, but wily. She's a tease, and prefers the men who are too drunk to stand.
Santana is vivacious and sharp-tongued. She was raised in Mexico, and isn't afraid to show it. She prefers bigger, stronger men.
Brittany appears to be innocent and naive, but is far from it. Her blonde hair and flexible body make her a favorite among men. Brittany will take anyone, and enjoys each one.
The four of them live and work in the saloon. Rumors fly that Kurt will one day marry one of the girls, most likely Rachel. But Kurt will never marry any of them. Kurt will never marry any girl at all, if he can help it. Kurt has a secret, big enough to set the town of Fort Worth on its head. The girls know, but they keep it because Kurt is kinder to them than any other man.
The secret? Kurt is gay. He likes men. Preferably, cowboys. Kurt moons after each one that walks into the saloon. Their unshaven faces, and dirt. Their preference for leather, and their tales of the frontier. Kurt listens, enamored of each man. He imagines himself on the trail with these men- alone. Their rough hands on his pale skin in the moonlight. The dream is always shattered, when the men ask for one of the girls. Kurt plasters on a smile, and points them upstairs. He watches them clamber up, and his heart sinks. The girls comfort him. They tell him all about the men. But Kurt doesn't want stories, that don't reveal everything. He wants the real thing. But he'll never have it. Never know the feel of another man's arms around him. Never have a man kiss him, and lie beside him. He resolves to tell himself not to get his hopes up when the next group of cowboys comes into the saloon.
His efforts are ruined, however, when the men from the Yellow Tree Cattle Firm walk into the L&L. They are all tall, muscular, and clearly more interested in the girls upstairs then the man with the drinks. All except one. He's shorter than the rest, shorter than Kurt even. He has wildly curly hair, and a playful smirk on his face. He walks up to the bar, and puts a bill on the counter.
"Gimme a whiskey." His voice is melodic, playful like the smirk. Kurt rushes to serve the drink. "Thanks." The cowboy downs it in one gulp. "That's good whiskey. Finest in the state, I reckon. What's your name, boy?"
Kurt doesn't even grimace at the term, "boy". "Kurt. Hummel."
The cowboy smiles, a real smile. "Blaine Anderson."
A/N I own nothing. Nothing at all.