The next night Sebastian showed up in a pair of black skinny jeans and a fitted charcoal button down partially undone. He detected the glint of admiration in Kurt's eyes as he appraised him. Excellent: slam-dunk gay. He left his coat in the back room Kurt indicated and came back out on to the floor. The dancers and band were rehearsing a bit and the bartenders were setting out the alcohol.

"So, what first?" Sebastian asked, plopping into a stool across from Kurt who was scrubbing down the bar. He was in casual clothes, not the fitted black vest all the bartenders wore. Still, he looked fabulous.

"Well, you're going to want to learn the short hand for your orders. It gets busy," he paused and continued under his breath, "rarely," then in a normal voice, "so we can't have you rattling off this long list of names. We need it short and fast."

"I'm not really a short kind of guy and I prefer to draw things out," Sebastian purred. Kurt snorted.

"Jeez, you really did grow up in Westerville," he muttered. He passed Sebastian a long list. "That's what we offer and their condensed names. I'd recommend having it memorized for tonight." He looked down at it. "There's a back side," Kurt called over his shoulder as he went back into the store room. Right, so he needed to step up his game. But damn if he wasn't getting a piece of that fine ass.

The club opened far too quickly. Kurt was apparently intent on making his life difficult. He taught him everything he needed to know in that single afternoon and expected him to have it memorized by the time he went out on the floor the same night. There was a lot more than he had originally thought. Still, it was a job. He wasn't complaining. And as far as jobs went, it wasn't so bad. He got to watch beautiful men dance with barely any clothes on.

The first customers started trickling in around 8:00. Kurt disappeared to change and the other bartenders lightly teased Sebastian good naturedly. Kurt came back moments later and shooed them all to work. Sebastian's mouth went dry and he felt his skinny jeans tighten ever so slightly. He hadn't noticed last night, but Kurt was dressed almost as provocatively as the dancers. His black pants hugged his sinfully spectacular ass in all the right places and accentuated a pair of mile-long legs. The vest was fitted and he wore nothing underneath. Despite the LA sun, his skin was still a creamy white, not a blemish or scar marring it anywhere.

"Sebastian," Kurt snapped, bringing him back to the real world.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"You were eye fucking me while there are customers waiting. Get to work," he replied. Hearing the swear roll off his tongue in that high voice made Sebastian want to taste it for himself. Oh, he would dream about those legs. He grabbed a tray, however, a headed off.

"Hey, Jeff, isn't that the chipmunk imposing on my dressing room last night?" Santana's voice called from the end of the bar. Jeff peered at the new waiter.

"Sure is," he said.

"Porcelain!" Santana called. Kurt came over. "What the hell is he doing here?" She pointed to Sebastian.

"He needed a job," Kurt said shortly. "He picked up a tray and started working. He was practically on his knees asking for this job."

"Should've let him stay there, might've been beneficial for you," she muttered. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Face it, Porcelain, that lily white ass of yours needs a little action. But that's a side note. When did I make you head of personnel?"

"You want your customers happy or not?" Kurt asked. "He's fast. And the faster he moves, the faster they drink, the more they drink, the more money you get." Santana scrutinized him.

"Fine. But just because your logic makes sense. What's his name?"

"Sebastian," Kurt told her.

"Hey, Sebastian," she called. He made his way over, trying but failing to look sheepish. "Look, I know I said your face is too long and your smile reminds me of a horse, but this," she stopped to indicate the outfit, "might just work on you. Only, show off what you got a little more. You want tips, don't you?" And with that, she wrenched open the rest of his shirt, showing off his toned chest and abs. "Much better. What do you think Porcelain?" She sent Kurt a devilish smile. Kurt looked over.

"I've seen better," he said breezily. "What do you need?" Sebastian rattled off his order. As Kurt turned his back, he caught Santana wink at him. She'd seen the way Kurt's eyes had wandered, too.

"Don't ever go behind my back again, you understand Chipmunk?" she told him.

"Got it."

"Good," she snapped. Sebastian took the tray from Kurt with a smirk and went back out. "Jeff," she continued, "get that boy a vest. He doesn't match." Jeff nodded and took note of it.

"Guess he'll be staying for a while, then?" Jeff asked. Santana sniffed.

"I doubt it," she muttered, but Jeff could see right through her. He smirked. "What?" she sneered, "A girl can't appreciate a good worker?"

"You just like a person who's not easily intimidated," he replied, turning back to the count he was making.

"Whatever."

Sebastian loaded the two trays with the drinks Kurt gave him and headed into the dressing room. Almost immediately, he was surrounded, people grabbing drinks from him. He put down the trays and helped hand them out until only two shots of Jack remained.

"Those are Quinn's?" came Santana's voice. He nodded, still unsure of who this Quinn person was. "Shit." Santana picked up both of them and downed one just as an angel of a girl glided over.

"Those are mine," she said in a smooth voice.

"Not anymore," Santana snapped. She downed the second one and put the glasses back on the tray. Quinn sneered.

"Get dressed, Lucy, you're on," was all Santana said. The girl – Quinn? Lucy? – turned to him. She had a near perfect face complete with high cheek bones, button nose and round lips. She tossed her natural blond hair over her shoulder and folded her arms.

"Staring at me, waiter boy?" she hissed, "Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?"

"Sorry, I've just never seen someone so beautiful," Sebastian murmured, pretending to look dazzled. She preened.

"Well then, stare away, Gorgeous," she purred.

"Hm," he suddenly said thoughtfully as he picked up the tray, "I just realized something. I should've said: I've never seen a queen so beautiful. I mean, no one would ever know." With a smirk, he left again. Quinn looked furious.

"I saw Sue in here earlier," Jeff said, popping into Santana's office. She looked up at him sulkily.

"Yeah," she muttered sharply.

"What's up?"

"Nothing." She threw a paper airplane at him.

"What's this?" he asked, unfolding it.

"Dunno." He peered at it, then looked over the top of the paper at Santana.

"It's about the two mortgages," he said.

"Shut up," Santana said. Jeff raised an eyebrow. "I've got raise that number on that paper in a month or I'm done. Sue was in here yelling at me. She says I should just sell to Will Schuester."

"Sue said that?" Jeff asked in disbelief.

"Well, not in so many words," she muttered. Jeff sighed. "Lie to me, Jeffery."

"You're a hideous, hagged-out, do-gooder," he told her. She let out a weak laugh.

"We'll make it work, San, we always do," he assured her. She pulled her legs off the desk and stood. Jeff put an arm around her and hugged her gently.

"Get away, you sap," he muttered, but she smiled softly as she turned away.

"So who is everyone?" Sebastian asked one evening as the bartenders were setting up and he was wiping down tables. Kurt sighed and indicated each person as they passed through the stage side door.

"You've got Rachel," he started, pointing to the tiny brunette. "You'll often hear her referred to as Man Hands or Girl Hobbit. There's her dance partner Thad" he pointed to a slightly skinny guy, "who Santana deems not important so his only nick name is Weakling."

"Quinn you had the displeasure of meeting last night," he continued, "face of an angel, soulless as any demon. And her partner Noah whom everyone calls Puck. Jeff, of course, Santana's right-hand man. Tina, or Girl Chang, the only female Asian. Mike, the male Asian of no relation to Tina, whose partner is Brittany. Britt and San were dating for a while, but Britt broke it off. The only reason she's still around is because she's the best dancer we've got. Those are the only ones I really know well; they've been here from the start.

"Among the others I think there's Kitty, who acts like a mini Quinn, Marley; Brody; Jake, Puck's little brother; Ryder; Wade-slash-Unique, our resident drag queen; and Sam. Then some more back-ups that I don't care about knowing." Sebastian nodded along as he spoke, taking note of each of the faces Kurt pointed out.

"So, does Santana nick name everyone?" he asked.

"Mostly."

"How did you end up with Porcelain?" he asked with a smirk. Kurt chuckled.

"That came from her predecessor, Sue, who still comes around sometimes. She gave me a choice of nick names when I first started here and Porcelain was by far the lesser or several evils. It stuck," he said with a shrug. "And now that you've wasted a good amount of my time, you can finish those tables and put the water bottles up for the band."

"Who's in the band?" he asked, taking the labeled water bottles Kurt pushed at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Finn's on drums, Artie's on guitar, so is Joe, Jesse's the pianist, Chandler's on violin, David is the sax player, and Wesley is bass. They're the ones who get water. The other members don't play as much. Don't ever get their water bottles mixed up, they may kill you. Now scoot," Kurt snapped. Sebastian did as told, trying to remember all the names Kurt had rattled off today. Seriously, this guy was bent on making things hard for him. In more ways than one; because, let's face it, was there anything hotter than a man who doesn't take shit?

Now that his nights were filled at the bar, he didn't have much time in the day. He slept late and went to work early, giving him a fairly small window to use for himself. In the first week, he spent his time Googling Kurt. His last name, Hummel, was listed on his card. However, the man seemed to be a ghost. He didn't have a Facebook, a Twitter, or even a Myspace page. He finally found the name in an article about an up-and-coming Broadway performer.

"The production's star, Blaine Anderson, explained to the press that the on-stage romance was nothing more, effectively putting to bed all rumors circulating on the subject. 'I'm very much in love with my boyfriend, Kurt Hummel, who recently became my finacé,' the actor told us, 'And being gay, my costar holds little interest for me. Our romance on-stage is just that: on-stage only.'"

Well. That sucked. The article was dated just under a month ago. No doubt Kurt was still engaged to the man. How had he not noticed a ring? He searched this Blaine Anderson character and came up with lines of pictures of a handsome young man. So that was Kurt's type. He looked like a blushing school boy. He wore bowties in almost every picture for pete's sake. His hair looked like it was held down with cement and he had a slightly goofy smile. Normally, Sebastian would have been all over the kid, but now he only felt jealousy toward him. Which was strange.