"I say we let him work," Pyotr said, his voice rumbling through Evan's shoulder where he was resting his elbow.

"It's his day off," Evan said, equally quiet. He wasn't rushing to intercede, though.

He'd been surprised when Kurt showed up shortly after he'd opened the bar, despite having Thursday off. He'd barely said hello before heading to the storeroom. By the time Evan had come back to check on him, he hadn't recognized the room.

The mountains of paperwork that he'd been dreading were almost completely gone. Six massive garbage bags of confetti were all that remained of most of it. Judging from the scanner and shredder currently overheating in front of Kurt, there would be more joining them soon.

What remained had been divided into several neat piles, including one marked urgent in large red letters. That pile was disturbingly tall, and Evan felt more than a little guilty about it.

While the room looked better than it had in years, Kurt looked terrible. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and he hadn't looked up once since Evan had come to stand in the doorway almost ten minutes ago. Most disturbingly, his phone was buzzing insistently from somewhere under one of the piles, and he made no move to pick it up.

Evan scanned the empty bar. It was that magic hour between the after-work crowd and the late-night drinkers. "I think the scanner is smoking," he said, still making no move to interrupt Kurt.

The alpha's fingers flew over the keyboard that he'd pulled down off the desk, hardly bothering to look at the screen as he followed the same motion with each paper. Type, flip, scan, type, flip, scan, shred, repeat. It was hypnotic.

"Maybe it will hold out till he's done," Pyotr said cheerfully.

Frowning, Evan elbowed him in the gut. The big Russian didn't even flinch. "We should at least see if he's okay," Evan said, stepping into the storeroom reluctantly.

In the week since he’d hired Kurt, he’d managed to avoid dealing with the alpha. He’d expected a different reaction, but Kurt had been nice about it, accepting Evan’s decision. Now he just felt like a heel.

Kurt hunched over, typing faster. "I'm fine."

"See? He's fine."

Evan glared at Pyotr over his shoulder, and he shrugged expansively, disappearing back into the bar.

"So," Evan said, crouching down next to Kurt, "thanks for sorting this mess out for me."

"It was bothering me," Kurt muttered. Type, flip, scan, type, flip, scan, shred.

"Enough to come in on your day off and spend seven hours on it?" Evan asked lightly, idly thumbing through the urgent stack. Apparently, his liquor license was due for renewal this month. That was good to know.

"Yes." Type, flip, scan, type, flip, scan, shred.

"Okay." Pursing his lips, Evan tried to figure out what he was doing here. He was not the people person in his family. The niggling guilt made him feel like he should do something to help. "Anything else bothering you?"

"No." Type, flip, scan, type, flip, scan, shred.

"Okay, then." He chewed his lip, at a loss for what else to say. He didn’t really know Kurt well enough to interfere in his personal business.

In the back corner of the storeroom, the chime rang to let him know that a customer had come in. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Getting to his feet, Evan headed into the bar. He took a moment to try and shrug off his concerns. Who knew? Maybe the papers really had been bothering Kurt.

The woman at the bar was pretty, which explained why Pyotr was nowhere to be seen. He hated the fearful way that women looked at him. Her dark hair was swept across her face, the kind of style that always made Evan wonder how it didn't drive them crazy. She looked artfully rumpled, like she was on her way to a photo shoot — despite the late hour, and the nervous way she perched on her bar stool.

"What can I get you?" he asked her gently. She kept her head lowered, but he could see the slight glimmer as her eyes flicked toward him.

"I'm looking for my brother," she said, her voice a throaty rasp that made Evan want to cough.

If he tilted his head and squinted, he could see the resemblance in the shape of her nose and what he could glimpse of her dark eyes. Thinking of the desperate tension in Kurt's frame, though, Evan smiled blankly. "Oh?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, angling her head a bit more toward him. "I know he's here," she said, waving her cell phone. "I logged into his account to track his car. It's parked out front."

"Is that legal?"

"If he didn't want me to do it, he'd get a better password," she said with a sniff.

Despite himself, Evan laughed. "That sounds like something my brother would say." Glancing back toward the storeroom, he sighed. "He's in the office."

For a brief moment, her head came up and she stared at him. The shadows on her face made her look very exotic, despite the plain sundress she was wearing. "You let him near your files?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Evan ducked his head, his ears burning. "To be fair, they really needed organizing," he said.

"Shit," she said emphatically. It was so at odds with her demeanor that Evan laughed. "I mean, sure," she added, hopping off the stool with a burst of energy, "you'll have a big efficiency boost, but you'll never be able to change anything. Ever. You have no idea how much he'll complain if you do."

Evan trailed after her. "It really needed to be done?" As they rounded the corner and the pile of garbage bags came into view, shredded files trailing out of the tops, she shot him a look.

Fussing with the rag on his hip, Evan avoided her eyes. It wasn't like he'd forced Kurt to do any of it. And anyway... "Technically, he works here."

Kurt looked even worse, if possible. At some point, he'd smeared ink on his cheek, the dark spot standing out like the bruises under his eyes. His hair was standing on end, snapping with static that was almost visible.

Type, flip, scan, type, flip, scan, shred. His rhythm hadn't faltered any. The scanner would probably burst into flames in a moment.

Without saying a word, the woman walked over and knelt on the concrete behind him. Kurt didn't look up, but also didn't seem surprised when she draped herself over his shoulders.

"Hi." The puff of her breath stirred the hair by his ear.

"How many pills did she take?" Kurt asked, as he flipped the next page into the scanner.

There was a long pause, Evan's skin crawling a little as she gave him a thorough once over. "Five," she said finally, "but only one of those was because of what you said."

He tried to shrug her off his back, but she just leaned harder against him, her arms twining around his shoulders. It made his movements slower, for the first time since he'd arrived at the bar.

"The last one," he muttered, pulling her arm to the side so he could shred the latest invoice.

Evan shifted in the doorway. The conversation was obviously none of his business, but at the same time, they were in his office. And where the hell had Pyotr disappeared to?

"You," she said, laughing against his collar, "underestimate our sisters. Elodie and Venice got into it about some celebrity gossip they read, and without you there to break them up ... Mama took your bed again."

"She can have it," he said. "You should go home, Lucia."

The only thing Evan knew about Kurt's sisters was that there were a lot of them. He'd overheard Kurt telling Pyotr about them the other night, the Russian laughing hysterically at the stories. Which one Lucia was, he couldn't have guessed, but judging by her age, she had to be one of the younger ones.

"You should, too," she said. "You have to talk to her eventually. Might as well get a good night's sleep before you get it over with."

He shifted her to the other side to grab another sheet of paper. "You do have to talk to her. That's not optional."

Kurt grunted, dropping the next sheet into the scanner.

"Kurt."

Type, flip, shift, scan.

"Kurt."

Type, flip, shift, scan, shift, shred.

"Kurt Ignacio Villanueva."

Kurt paused. "No."

"Yes." She poked him in the ribs, her hair swaying as he tried to shrug her off again. There was a sardonic twist to her lips as she did it again. "Yes, Kurt Nachos."

"Don't call me that," he grumbled. "I don't have to talk to her if I don't want to. I'm older than you."

Evan was surprised when she glanced at him, rolling her eyes. "Wow, isn't that a compelling argument? That’s one step above 'You're not the boss of me,' brother dear."

"You're not," Kurt said, leaning over for another sheet of paper.

"He is," she said cheerfully.

Stepping back as two pairs of dark eyes swung his way, Evan held up his hands. "This seems like a family matter," he said, backpedaling as fast as he could. "I'm just going to go check on the bar..."

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Kurt said suddenly, shooting to his feet so fast that Lucia was dragged with him. She didn't seem surprised, dropping off his shoulders before he reached Evan and straightening her dress. "Now, please," Kurt said, almost bowling Evan over as he rushed them both out into the bar.

It was still deserted, thankfully, Pyotr's hulking silhouette barely visible in the hallway by the bathrooms. He'd deal with that later.

"I told my mother that I have a boyfriend," Kurt blurted before they'd made it more than a few feet into the bar. He glanced over Evan's shoulder anxiously, but his sister had either decided not to follow them or was eavesdropping from out of sight. Evan knew which one his brother would have done, so he shuffled a few feet further from the door.

“That's ... wow. That's big," he said.

Kurt jerked a hand through his hair hard enough to pull out a few hairs. "No. I mean, yeah—“ He gestured sharply. "I'm not thinking about that part. But I told her I had a boyfriend," he hissed.

"I don't follow," Evan said. He'd never had to come out to his parents or his twin brother, Dylan, but he knew it was often complicated.

Leaning in until they were almost nose to nose, Kurt growled, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Oh!" Chewing his lips, Evan considered that. "So, um..."

"So," Kurt said, pacing a few feet away, "I didn't just out myself to my mother, I told her that I have a boyfriend. If she doesn’t disown me or drug herself comatose, she’s going to kill me for lying."

“It might not be so bad,” Evan said gently. He could remember how terrified Pyotr had been of his mother’s reaction. That had turned out fine, mostly.

“Madre de dios, what if she doesn’t kill me? She’s going to try to set me up with every single gay guy she knows. Or meets. Or goes looking for."

Kurt groaned, slamming a hand down on the bar. "Jesus, she's going to start grilling the whole neighborhood for gay relatives."

Evan tried not to laugh. It wasn't a laughing matter, he knew that. He couldn't keep the smile off his face, though.

"Sorry, sorry..." He coughed as Kurt glared at him. "It's just ... I have this mental image of a little old lady with a clipboard going door to door."

"Oh, fuck off," Kurt said, but his lips twitched. "And don't ever let my mother hear you call her an old lady."

"I would never," Evan said solemnly, only to have it ruined by a snort. "My papa raised me right. Mothers think I’m a nice boy."

Kurt flipped him off and turned around, stalking toward the door. Halfway there, he froze. Glacially slow, he spun on his heel, the desperation in his eyes making his face seem very young. Desperation that latched onto Evan with puppy-dog pleading.

"No. Absolutely not. Whatever you're thinking, no." Evan held up his hands and backed away. He knew that look. He was immune to that look. "I refuse."

"Be my boyfriend," Kurt said.

Evan almost tripped over his own feet. "What? No."

"Please? Just until my sister's wedding." Kurt followed him, wringing his hands and curling in on himself like he’d drop to the ground and grovel at any moment.

"No." Evan crossed his arms and set his jaw. That was a terrible idea.

"I'll handle everything."

"No." Evan turned away so he wouldn’t have to see Kurt’s pleading eyes. The thought of seeing the alpha on his knees should not have been giving him salacious ideas.

"You'd be saving my life." Kurt caught him by the shoulders, staring down with those big, liquid eyes. "Please."

"Absolutely not. Don't you have other friends you can ask?"

If you believed his stories, Kurt had dozens of friends. Any one of them was a more appropriate partner for this crazy scheme. Evan’s gut twisted at the thought, but he told himself it was just anxiety.

"My mother knows all my friends. It's literally just for the wedding, I swear."

Evan put his foot down. "No."

Inside the storeroom, something fell over with a crash. A dark head peeked around the doorway, ears flushed red. "Sorry," Lucia said, shuffling forward. All but the faintest hint of Pyotr's shadow disappeared from the bathroom hallway. "I don't think anything broke."

"It's fine," Evan said.

She curled in on herself, her head dipping. "I should get home. I'll tell them that you're okay, but you'd better come by tomorrow."

"Or what?" Kurt asked, the heat of his body sinking into Evan's shoulder as he loomed.

Lucia's head came up, her chin firm. "Or I'll tell Catherine where you're hiding." She stared defiantly over Evan's shoulder, her gaze never wavering as Kurt growled behind him. With a careful toss of her head, she glared at him with both eyes.

"Fine." Kurt stomped past, his footsteps rattling the bar.

"Sorry about my bratty brother. You'd never guess he was the oldest," she said, turning to watch Kurt's back as he disappeared back into the storeroom. He flipped her off, and a moment later, the sound of typing trickled out into the empty bar.

Evan stared at her, his mind whirling. For the briefest heartbeat, when she had been focused on Kurt, her hair had shifted. "It's no problem."

She smiled, and he could hear Pyotr's throat click. A terrible idea flitted through his head. He might not be relationship material, but Pyotr was. Here was a woman who wouldn’t be scared off by a few scars...

"The rest of them are worse," Lucia said. "I don't blame you for not wanting to come to the wedding. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, much less someone I was dating."

The smart thing would have been to correct her. Even as he opened his mouth, he knew that was the smart thing to do.

He didn't want to play house with Kurt, especially not when the man clearly had some serious neuroses. He had voluntarily done the paperwork for the bar! There was something off-kilter about the guy.

"My twin brother once put green dye in my shampoo. On the day before the prom. I'm used to crazy."

Evan almost bit his tongue. The sound of typing in the storeroom stopped. "Besides, he makes up for it in other ways."

Pyotr gave a strangled cough, the sound covered by Lucia's pealing laughter. Grinning like a madman, his brain screaming that this was the worst idea he'd ever had, Evan hooked his arm with hers and led her out.