…you call me, I love you. Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh, we called it off again last night. But ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh, this time I'm telling you, I'm telling you…

Kurt shot upright in bed, the soft grey sheets pooling at his waist, as the extremely loud volume of the top 40 station forced him into consciousness. He looked around the room trying to identify the source of the music. Luckily, Ryan's head appeared in the doorway as he turned off the radio before Taylor could get more than two words into the chorus.

"I guess I forgot to turn off my alarm," he apologized sheepishly, taking in Kurt's disgruntled appearance. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast when you woke up."

"You made me breakfast?" he asked, slightly shocked at the reversal to his typical role.

Ryan shook his head. "Still working on that. Though, as you're awake, I was thinking two egg white omelets with spinach, mushrooms, and green peppers with feta cheese. Any objections?"

"That sounds perfect. Can I help?" Kurt asked, pulling on the jeans he'd worn the night before.

Ryan smiled. "Sure."

He hadn't noticed it last night, but the kitchen was just as gorgeous as the bedroom. The open concept of the condo helped the small kitchen alcove to feel more spacious than it would had there been a wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Matching bright red small kitchen appliances stood out boldly against the white marble counter top of the island. And the large appliances on the wall opposite blended in with the cabinets. Ryan handed him a red silicone whisk.

"Can you crack the eggs while I cut up the vegetables?" he asked.

Kurt made quick work of the eggs on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ryan's surprised smile. He seemed to find that rather impressive. Kurt was suddenly grateful for learning how to crack them one handed when he was younger. Soon enough, the preparation was over which meant it was time to cook the eggs and Ryan retrieved an unsurprisingly red spatula from the drawer in the island.

"We work well together." Ryan said with a wink, flipping the omelet.

"Yeah, and we're pretty good at cooking together, too."

X

For the fifth time, Kurt smoothed his outfit. This was ridiculous. He didn't need to stand there outside of his own apartment working up the nerve to go inside. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

Rachel spun around from where she was seated at the table. "Kurt. Where were you?" she shrieked, not giving him time to answer. "We were worried sick. I mean, we left early so I wasn't worried all night, but when you still weren't here when I woke up…"

"Rachel, I left before you." He corrected her gently.

As if roused by his return – or more likely the banshee-like interrogation techniques of his girlfriend – Brody came out of the bedroom, thankfully wearing a pair of black sweatpants. "Hey Kurt, how was your first New York walk of shame?"

Rachel gasped and elbowed him in the ribs. "He didn't take a walk of shame," she hissed.

"You're right, Rachel. He drove me home."

Rachel's face was turning an unhealthy shade of red. "So you just went home with some random guy you met on Halloween in New York City and then, to top it all off, you gave him our address?"

"Of course not," he assured her. "I had him drop me off at the nice apartment complex a few blocks away."

This did not appear to have calmed her. "What, so now you're ashamed of us? Of this place?"

"Rachel, what do you want me to say?" he asked, "Can you honestly tell me you'd even look twice at this apartment without condemning it if we didn't actually live here?"

She sputtered in indignation but said nothing further on the topic.

"I just didn't want him to think differently about me when he saw where I lived." Kurt said gently.

"That means that he had a nice place." Brody said, looking up from his bowl of cheerios.

"He has a small condo in Clinton Hill. It's quaint, but so very nice. But that's because he's older than us." Kurt added for Rachel's benefit.

Rachel found her voice. "How much older?" she asked, sounding vaguely scandalized.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Rachel. I didn't exactly ask to see his birth certificate. That's not really my idea of foreplay."

"C'mon, Kurt," Brody interjected, "You must have some idea."

"He's a college graduate, so he's at least 22. I didn't see the year on his diploma." Kurt admitted.

"Oh? Where did he go? Was he a Public Affairs major at One Night Stand-ford University?"

It was comforting to know that the New York makeover had not improved Rachel's sense of humor in the slightest. But he knew there was no need to dignify her play on words with any sort of comeback. The truth would be just as effective.

"Actually, he went to Julliard." He said, "I'm going to bed. We didn't waste a lot of time sleeping, so try and keep it down please."

He retreated quickly waiting for either the explosion or change of heart that would likely follow. Surely enough, he heard Rachel contemplating the minutiae with Brody through the curtain.

"Julliard? I bet he was pretty dreamy." She whispered.

A/N: I know it's a short chapter, but I wanted to get something posted. Thank you to everyone that followed and favorited, and sorry for the long wait. Hopefully I'll update this story more frequently. Reviews help with the process. But, I promise the next chapter will be longer than this one.