"Hey Twinkie, I need a refill."

Kurt ignored the voice calling out at first, hardly even registering it. Although it was true that customers at the diner could get rather rude and entitled, and often had exactly the reputation that New Yorkers were famous for in how they treated others, he had nevertheless experienced considerably less teasing and name calling, much less outright harassment, since moving to New York City, to the point that he no longer expected or was accustomed to it. It didn't occur to him that the harsh voice calling out to him was addressing him as he continued to clear away dishes and wipe down tables, until he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder, squeezing harder than was necessary, and the voice repeating itself more loudly in his ear.

"Didn't you hear me, Twinkletoes? Get me a damn refill."

Kurt felt his shoulders tense up, his spine straightening, and he was slow to turn his head to look back at the person addressing him in such an insulting manner. The man standing behind him was approximately his own age, no older than early twenties at the most, and rather reminded him of the same types of people that he had gone to school with in Lima, Ohio. Tall, slimly muscular, with the beginnings of a scraggly beard, wearing a collared polo shirt and worn jeans that looked as though they were purchased that way rather than legitimately becoming as such through frequent wear, the man nearly glared at him, his jaw clinched as he repeated himself for a third time.

"Something the matter with your ears, sugar plum, or are you too busy thinking of me in my boxers to hear a word I say?"

Kurt's mouth pressed into a thin line even as his eyes widened, and he took in a slow breath through his nose, biting back the instinctive sharp retort that came to his lips. Although generally his boss was pretty cool- not too many bosses would let Rachel and Santana spontaneously dance on tables and countertops, even if they were a dancing and singing establishment, after all- he wasn't sure what he would say if he heard him being rude to a customer, even if the customer was harassing him. It would be his word against the customer's, and Kurt knew all too well most business's policy that the customer, no matter what a liar or asshole they were, had to be taken seriously should they complain. Not to mention, this particular customer, who clearly had a chip on his shoulder, was larger and clearly looking for a fight, and Kurt wasn't sure yet whether he would become physical, if provoked, even in the bright lighting and not exactly empty setting of the diner.

" There is absolutely no call to be so offensive towards me," he said instead, his voice tightly controlled. "In the future you could simply make your request without adding personal and inflammatory remarks in there."

He started to turn away, but the man grabbed his arm, sliding his hand down to his wrist and squeezing hard, until Kurt flinched, barely suppressing a gasp. The man's voice was hostile as he leaned close to him, and Kurt felt a fleck of spittle spray his cheek.

"Funny you'd talk about something being inflammatory when you're such an obvious fucking FLAMING gay-ass queer."

Kurt kept himself perfectly still, slowly drawing in a breath through his nose, as his mind raced, trying to figure out how to respond. His first impulse was to try to pull away, but if the man tightened his grip, he could hurt him; already his wrist ached from the pressure. He could call for the manager, but by the time he alerted him the guy could punch him in the face or kidney. He could hit the man first, but he would undoubtedly be fired, and then-

But as it turned out, he didn't need to make a decision. Instead, he heard Santana's loud, almost shouted voice from across the diner, causing both the man and Kurt to turn their heads.

"Rachel, what the hell is this? That dude over there is trying to hit on our man!"

"Santana, are you certain? Oh goodness, this certainly won't do!" was Rachel's equally loud- and almost overly stagey- reply, and before Kurt could wrap his head around what they were doing, both women were flying towards him. As Rachel took hold of the arm that the man wasn't clamped onto with both hands, pressing herself up close against his side, Santana wrapped her arms around his waist, deftly slipping beneath the man's arm and wrapping herself around him on his other side as she turned a fierce glare in the man's direction. Even as she started to speak, Dani too was coming up from behind them and latched onto the arm that Rachel was already holding, joining up with them.

"Okay, sweetcheeks, maybe you gots your wires crossed here, but let me tell you something. This is our dude, and even if we're okay with sharing with each other, ain't no way we're gonna share with a dude. So this is how it goes, you got me? You sit down, you drink your coffee, and you don't hit on our man, 'cause you ain't part of this quartet. Sorry you ain't gonna get any of this clearly tempting love machine, but he's gotta have some standards."

The man's eyes bulged, and his mouth dropped open as he blinked furiously, eyes darting from Kurt to the three women wrapped around him- all attractive and apparently, very into him…even sexually involved with him. Dropping Kurt's wrist as though it burned to touch him, he backed away, lifting both hands in protest even as he sputtered objections to Santana's words.

"What, I'm NOT hitting on him, I wouldn't want to TOUCH him! I'm not gay!"

"You were touching him about a second ago, weren't you?" Dani raised an eyebrow, even as she stroked her fingertips idly over the back of Kurt's hand, and Rachel nodded as she chimed in, "Yes, you certainly were, and I must say I don't care for the way you were looking at our Kurt. He may be very, um, generous with himself, but he certainly isn't free."

Kurt could tell that Santana was biting the inside of her cheeks, struggling not to burst out laughing at this comment, but her eyes were sparking brightly as she nodded, replying, "Hey, it's okay to be in denial to yourself, but you gotta be a little less conspicuous if you're gonna hit on other people's men. Why don't you go ahead and sit down, dude, red really doesn't become you, especially on your face."

The man sputtered for a few more seconds, his eyes darting; now that there were several customers staring in his direction, he appeared to be more disconcerted than ever, and he turned on his heels and almost ran towards the exit. As Santana and Dani both laughed, letting go of Rachel and giving each other a high five and a quick peck on the lips, Rachel remained close to him, looking up at Kurt with concern.

"Are you all right, Kurt?"

"I'm fine," he nodded. Though his heart was still beating a little fast, he felt light, relieved, and so grateful and affectionate towards them all that he gave Rachel a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before doing the same for both Dani and Santana as well.

"We didn't totally lie to the guy," Santana pointed out, one arm still loosely around his waist as he released her, dimples flickering into view at her sly smile. "You ARE our dude. Just not the way his limited and scary imagination thinks."

And she was right, of course; Kurt knew that he was their "guy," just as the three of them were, and always would be, his girls.