Kurt and Blaine sat on a bench with interlocked hands in the abandoned park, the former's legs crossed over the latter's. Blaine absentmindedly stroked Kurt's thumb as he spoke the first words to emerge from the silent, warm April air.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Kurt sighed happily. "A little." Truthfully, life had been such a roller coaster with Blaine that he couldn't remember when memories began and ended.

"I knew you weren't really from Dalton." He chuckled as Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Only because I wasn't wearing the uniform."

Blaine smiled and shook his head. "Your inner diva shone through so blindingly that it was obvious such a star could not have been from the Dalton galaxy."

Kurt looked at him with incredulous wonder. "You've got to be kidding me. This is coming from the guy who said he was no good at romance."

Blaine shrugged. "I'm not. I've been rehearsing that line for a while." He paused. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, looking furtively at Kurt.

"You can tell me anything, Blaine," was his automatic response. Blaine beckoned him closer with his head, and Kurt leaned in, waiting.

For a moment. his breath was on Kurt's cheek. Then he whispered, "I love you," and pecked him on the cheek.

Kurt felt a shiver roll down his back, tightening his hand around Blaine's.

"Blaine," he whispered. Blaine had migrated to his neck, kissing his jaw lightly. Kurt grimaced slightly, setting his other hand lightly on Blaine's chest and pushing. "Blaine, come on."

Blaine pulled back slightly, his eyebrows raised. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Um, I think we need to talk for a second. A minute. Maybe longer."

"Sounds good." Blaine untangled his legs from Kurt, turning to face him head-on. "So what are we talking about?"

"What is this about to you?" Kurt blurted. "Because... I'm not saying I don't believe that you... lo... that you are enamored with me..." He cleared his throat. "But I mean, I've had guys say that to me..." He was looking at his shoes now, searching for invisible scuffs. "So... what is this?"

Blaine was quiet for a second, as though contemplating. "I think that we are just... just you and I."

"No labels, then?" Kurt asked shakily.

"Not unless you want to have them," Blaine said, shrugging. "I'm totally fine with you pacing things."

Kurt held Blaine's hand a little more tightly. "I'd really like that for right now."

"Cool," Blaine replied, smiling.

They were quiet for a moment, Blaine resettling beside Kurt. Kurt laid his head against Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Kurt said softly. "I want you to know that I really do... I... I love you."

Blaine kissed his partially styled hair and sighed.

"Question," he said.

"Yes," Kurt replied.

"So we're... just you and I, right?"

"Yes, we just established that," Kurt said, smiling.

He could feel Blaine's mouth twist into a puzzled line. "Do you and I still get to kiss?"

Kurt lifted his head and blinked at him. "I guess."

"Any time?" Blaine shot back.

"Yes?" Kurt asked, not sure where this was going.

"Any place?" Blaine asked, looking a little jumpy.

"Yeah."

"Right now?" Blaine asked, smiling and leaning into him playfully.

Kurt kissed him in reply, allowing his aching lips to slide into Blaine's perfectly.

"So this whole you and I business," Kurt said in between kisses.

"Yeah," Blaine said vaguely, becoming increasingly less willing to talk.

"I think I like it." Kurt said against Blaine's mouth, and they both laughed, retaining their best friend quality.

Kurt's hand rose, still woven with Blaine's, as he pulled himself closed to Blaine, resting a knee on Blaine's thigh as he crept nearer to him. Blaine's hand went behind Kurt's neck, wrenching him closer still, both of them in awe of the euphoria rushing through them. Their lips meshed again and again, both of them separating for air, laughing when doing so. Kurt felt his cheeks beginning to throb with the continuous smile against Blaine's lips.

"We gotta stop," Blaine said breathlessly, pulling away, his chest heaving. Kurt licked his lips, smirking. "No, it's late."

"We don't have work tomorrow, though," Kurt pointed out.

"I'm a classy man, alright?" Blaine replied, crossly. "I won't be swayed by your wiles."

"Oh, my wiles. They're quite dangerous."

"I'd say." Blaine pulled Kurt's leg off his, and Kurt just sighed.

"You're right. We should go."

"But we're not going without style," Blaine said bluntly, making Kurt scrunch his eyebrows in confusing.

"What do you -"

Blaine reached below his legs and whisked him upwards, making Kurt squeal as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck.

"Don't you drop me, Blaine Anderson! Don't you dare!" Kurt screeched. Blaine just laughed freely, continually pressing kisses to Kurt's face, who giggled rather hysterically. Blaine threw him into his seat in the car, Kurt crying out in mock indignation.

Blaine flung himself into the drivers side, laughing, and leaned over to a snickering Kurt for an adorably fumbly kiss before starting the car and driving into the night.

They were at Kurt's building in no time, and making their way up to his apartment in total bliss.

"No, Blaine, I saw the look on his face. Jeremiah's eyes were definitely brown."

"I was obsessed with him for months, I think I'd know!"

"You were too taken by your crazy whims to notice shit!" cried Kurt as he dug for his keys in his pockets outside his door.

"I'm telling you, Kurt, they were blue."

"You only thought they were blue because you were secretly in love with me in high school," blurted Kurt, losing all inhibitions completely.

Blaine unexpectedly swept Kurt into his arms dramatically. "It wasn't a secret." They smiled at each other. Blaine asked, still holding tight, "Did you find your keys?"

Kurt silently took them from his back pocket and jingled them in Blaine's face. He laughed and released Kurt, who opened the door expertly, then faced Blaine. They looked at each other in calm silence.

"Love you," said Blaine, smiling like a desperately happy puppydog.

"Love you too," said Kurt, unable to contain his own wild grin.

Blaine hugged him warmly. "Sorry it took eight years."

Kurt said nothing, but pulled back to bestow upon his- best friend, boyfriend, it didn't matter - a soft, gentle, intimate kiss.

"See you tomorrow," Blaine said without doubt as they broke apart.

"Can't wait," said Kurt, as he closed the door behind him.

He waited four beats, enough time for Blaine to at least head out the door, before wrenching out his phone and hitting the speed dial.

"Fuck, fuck, pick up..." Kurt muttered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There was a click.

"Hello?" came a sleepy voice.

"We made out!" Kurt screamed into the phone. There was a second of no response. Then another, and Kurt considered re-shouting.

"WHAT? WHERE?"

Thusly began Kurt sitting on his bed, recounting the entire evening to Molly.

He set the phone on speaker as he went about his moisturizing routine that night.

"So what's up with you two?" she asked.

"We're not putting labels on it," Kurt replied, rubbing some Clinique into his skin.

"So you just... made out? At a park? And... you're not putting labels on it?"

"Yup," Kurt said, halting in his moisturizing. "What's wrong?"

"Don't get me wrong, but are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah," responded Kurt, resuming.

"Trashy."

"No, it isn't. We're mature enough to not need labels."

"Whatever. I know that I liked it when Marc finally called me his girlfriend," Molly said reprovingly.

"Look," said Kurt, annoyed that Molly was becoming such a buzzkill. "Blaine and I have known each other for a long time. I want to take it slow. Make sure this isn't nothing."

Molly hesitated. "Well, I guess I trust you, if you're sure about it. But honey... I've got a long shift at the shop tomorrow. I have to turn in."

Kurt smiled. "I know, sorry. I'll come in to help."

"No you won't," she scolded, "Not if you have plans with Blaine."

"Blaine can wait," Kurt said, not entirely convinced of it. "See you tomorrow."

"Love you!"

"Love you too."

The phone clicked dead.

He collapsed in his bed only to find that he had a new text.

'goodnight. -B'

Kurt fell asleep wondering what the flirtiest yet most casual response would be.

Dusting his hands from the flour, Kurt turned over the thick dough in the bowl with a wooden spoon. He knew that dark-chocolate orange cupcakes were tough, and his muscles strained with the effort. He wiped his forehead, smudging white powder upon it. Bread wasn't even this hard!

'I am so out of shape,' he thought miserably, pushing the dough. Gemma's head peeked through the door.

"Hey, K-Hum, do we do custom orders?" she asked. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it depends on the order. Should I come out there?"

"Please!"

So Kurt walked into the store, wiping his hands on his black apron, leaving long white streaks.

Next to the line was a man in a khaki-colored button-up shirt leaning against the counter, chatting up Molly, who was blushing intensely. Really, a fashion travesty, and Kurt would have said something in outrage, but nevertheless, he cleared his throat, catching Molly's attention. He gestured towards the queue of people growing steadily more irritated, and she hurried away.

"Do you need the custom order?" Kurt asked politely, and the man turned around.

It really wasn't fair for men to be this gorgeous. He was rugged, even with manly, thick stubble; he had these piercing grey eyes, and dark, deep biestre locks that perfectly framed his chiseled features. He was straight out of a hunky male model calendar. The shirt was pulled up to his forearms.

Kurt shook himself... he was ogling the poor man! The man grinned; of course, narrow, straight white teeth. "I am," he said smoothly. "I was wondering if you could make me any white chocolate cupcakes? My boyfriend is quite fond of them."

Ugh, and he was gay! Could he get any more perfect? Well, he was taken.

What was Kurt thinking? He had Blaine!

"Yes, yes, we can make some white chocolate ones, of course. But custom orders have a 13% surcharge," Kurt rambled quickly. The man shot him another broad smile. Oh, his dimples were just... they weren't even adorable. How could a man even make DIMPLES hot?

"That's fine, I'll pay whatever the price is," the man responded. "I need a half-dozen."

"Then that'll be..." Kurt absentmindedly tapped at the cash register. "$28.25. When do you need them by?"

"Could you have them ready for me by tonight at around four?" the man asked, his voice like melted butter. Kurt nodded dazedly, and the man smiled once more. Just gorgeous. "That's great. I'll see you soon then."

"Wait!" Kurt called after him, just as the man was leaving. "You need to pay first, and... I need a name."

He turned around and flashed a show-stopping smile. "Weston Jett. I'll be back at four."

And then, as if Kurt's insides weren't sloppy enough, he whispered a wink across his right eye before sauntering out.

"Shit," Kurt said, frozen and awestruck.

And then he realized what he had just gotten himself into.

"SHIT," he said for real this time.

"What's wrong?" asked Olivia, who was handling a wieldy box of cupcakes to a customer.

"I don't know how to make White Chocolate cupcakes," he breathed.

"Just wing it," said Molly breezily as Kurt whisked past into the kitchen. "Use melted chocolate chips or something," she called helpfully.

Kurt quickly spooned the chocolate orange batter into a cupcake pan and shoved it in the oven before pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, mentally calculating the store of measurements and ingredients filed away in his brain. He jotted down his thoughts onto the whiteboard at the far end of the kitchen beside the apron hooks and then got to work.

The first batch was not pretty at all. They were lopsided as hell, and Kurt realized that he hadn't added enough baking powder.

The second batch was better, but not Courage Cupcakes standard at all.

So the third batch was perfection, of course, and Kurt wouldn't accept any less.

Especially not for this... Weston. Even his name was hot. It was almost breathy.

Every time he thought this, he hit his head gently, remembering Blaine.

Weston returned at 4:15, and the store had been getting louder and louder. It was the busiest time of day; well, dessert was traditionally right after dinner, so it was nice to pick some up right before. Weston had saluted with two fingers at Kurt, rushing through the storefront, grinning at him widely. Kurt returned the smile immediately, waving him over.

"Sorry, the store is rather busy right now. Hot time," Kurt explained hastily. "I have your cupcakes in the back, if you'll wait here."

"That's fine," Weston replied, his posture casual, leaning against the wall.

Kurt rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the box of six cupcakes. The bright blue and red emblem on front was lovely and shining. Not matte at all, which is how he intended it when he designed the damn thing. He brought out the box to Weston.

"Enjoy them, they gave me a bit of trouble," Kurt said, chipper. Weston raised an elegant black brow.

"Did they?"

"Oh, nothing too bad," Kurt backtracked, immediately embarrassed. "I'm exaggerating. What's the event?"

"I haven't seen my boyfriend in a while. Just getting back together," Weston said briefly, looking Kurt directly in the eyes, watching his every move. Kurt nodded dumbly.

"Well, be sure to send... what's his name?"

"Blaine," Weston responded. Kurt felt his veins freeze. His jaw tightened and he gritted his teeth. But he shouldn't assume anything...

"Yes, well... be sure to send this Blaine our best wishes," Kurt ground out. Weston furrowed his eyebrows.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fuckin' peachy - oh, my goodness..." Kurt shook his head. "I... I have to get back to the kitchen."

He raced away from Weston, feeling his cheeks burning, his thoughts more so.

In the solitude of the kitchen, Kurt allowed his face to turn ten shades of red. He vaguely heard Gemma ringing up Weston at the cash register, but Kurt couldn't care less. It was a coincidence. It had to be. Blaine was his. His Blaine. The Blaine for whom he had been waiting eight years, Mr. Perfect-Blaine-Anderson.

Plus, Blaine was a perfectly common name.

Not.

Kurt banged his head against the oven and immediately cursed, rubbing his burning head. Desperate for something to do with his somehow useless hands, began to violently put together another batch of chocolate orange cupcakes and stir furiously.

If he had managed to convince himself it was a coincidence, why was he so damn angry?

Because maybe it all had been too good to be true. Maybe Blaine wasn't as perfect as Kurt had imagined. How well did Kurt really know Blaine? Sure he knew his favorite broadway musical, his favorite issue of Vogue, his favorite song, favorite color... but who WAS Blaine Anderson, the person?

At this very moment, Kurt had no clue.

He slunk down on the fall, hugging his knees briefly, needing to feel a bit helpless.

He heard the door open, and a pair of warm arms encircle him.

"Molly, I can't talk right now," he murmured, his voice thick.

"Then don't," she said simply. "Later, you will, but you don't have to right now."

They sat on the floor until the store closed. Gemma and Olivia managed the storefront; they were fully capable, even when Kurt wasn't.

"You know, I had never met a Blaine before Blaine Anderson!" Kurt exclaimed wetly, the martini in his hand swishing sloppily. "This can't be a coincidence. I'm... oh, Cheesus, I'm the other woman!"

"OK, first of all, you are not a woman, second of all, who is Cheesus?" Molly said, her voice plaintive. "Calm yourself. You are getting messy."

"I don't care right now!" Kurt exclaimed, raising his arm high in the air. Sharp alcohol dripped down his arm as he pulled off it, the taste burning his throat. "I'm going to drink and forget my problems. Like college."

"And we all know how well college went for you, Kurt," Olivia said, rolling her eyes. Kurt glared at her, but it lacked anything that terrifying. Especially since he was nearly parallel to the floor.

"Perhaps it is a coincidence," Gemma said thoughtfully, twirling the umbrella in her drink. "Shouldn't you ask Blaine before getting this worked up about it?"

"Fuck Blaine! Fuck men in general! I should just become straight!" Kurt screeched, finally letting Molly remove the glass from his hand. "You know, if things were that easy, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

"Yup, and Kurt, you drunk is a messy, gross drunk, so we're just gonna get you home. Sleep this off, and talk to Blaine tomorrow," Molly pacified. "Let's go."

She put an arm beneath his and led him to her car, Gemma supporting his other side. Olivia trailed behind, waving to the bartender.

"We were the last ones in there," Olivia pointed out. "Does that make us depressing?"

"Shut up!" Kurt moaned, shaking their arms out from beneath him.

"Kurt," Gemma said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

He softened slightly under her touch. She had been rather timid the whole evening. And refreshingly neutral.

"What?" he whined.

"You're an adult," she said firmly. "And you need to handle this like an adult. Let us drive you home, and when you wake up in the morning you can decide how to handle it."

"Honestly," said Olivia. "You've been going home drunk nearly every night this week. You've got to admit that's unhealthy."

Kurt pouted as he pondered this. "Thasstrue," he slurred. He closed his eyes and held out his arms. "Take me home."

The girls giggled, helping him once again.

Once bestowing their employer and dear friend in his bed, and after showering him with affectionate hugs and kisses, the girls left the apartment and Kurt was alone. Again.

Gemma was right. He needed to man up. Even if he was "the other woman" or Blaine's "boyfriend," he was still Blaine's best friend. And best friends sorted things out. Always.

He sighed calmly and decided to try and sober up by showering and moisturizing.

But when Kurt climbed into bed to find a new text, his calm state of mind shattered like glass:

'eating cupcakes and thinking of you hope your lack of response to my desperate texts means the shop is busy'

Kurt let out a strangled cry of rage and hurled the phone across the room.

The tub was two-and-a-half feet deep, with jets, and had been one of the reasons Kurt took the apartment.

He poured his herbal soap into the water liberally, stepping in and wincing at the warmth. He settled himself in, breathing deeply. He had put on some Jay Brannan on repeat, and he leaned his head against the edge of the tub.

He drummed his fingers on the porcelain, trying to forget how irritated he really was at Blaine.

"And in each other's shadows, we grew less and less tall,

And eventually our theories couldn't explain it all,

And I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall,

And when we leave the landlord will come

And paint over it all..."

He sang softly along, sipping deeply from his pomegranate iced tea. He needed to not have a hangover tomorrow. He was sure that work was going to be stepping on eggshells with the girls.

And if either Blaine or Weston came by, he wasn't quite sure that he'd be entirely sane in his response to them. So he wanted to look heartbreakingly gorgeous, as well as sober, when he gave them a piece of his mind.

His toes had become raisins, and he pressed them against the floor of his bathtub. He fiddled with the faucets for a while.

Deftly he pressed his iPod speakers, so they turned off, and he toweled off.

Of course, Blaine would lie to him about the boyfriend situation.

How could such a genuine, dapper, openly gay man be single?

Things that seemed too good to be true always were.