French!Klaine Drabble
So I really want to write more and expand on it but I have limited time, so depending on the response I might add more later on and make it an ACTUAL one-shot. The link below is the song Blaine is playing in the story. Play while you read, it will set the tone.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQGnnivKj2I
~*~
He carefully maneuvered his favorite black boots along the cobblestone street as he glanced around the small area. He had no idea where he was. He had made a wrong turn about two hours ago and instead of asking someone for the correct direction he decided to just go with it. After all it was to be his new home for six months.
He smiled at the quaint bar in the midst of the row that was painted in red with a beautiful gold trim. Patrons were quietly seated around the outside talking amongst themselves. He thought it appeared friendly and inviting. He stepped up onto the sidewalk and through the doorway deciding he would just have a glass of wine before attempting to make his way back to his third floor walk up before it got too dark.
As soon as he stepped inside the memories of his favorite bar in New York came flooding back to him. The interior was rich, warm, and inviting with a deep mahogany bar and furniture. Photographs both brilliant and new and faded and old hung along the walls to remind everyone how long they had been there. People all around him were talking and laughing with their friends and lovers were cozied up together with not a care in the world. The sound of a piano floated through the air and he closed his eyes drinking the ambiance in.
He made his way to the bar and ordered a glass of pinot noir as he stood at the bar and reveled in the atmosphere. The French culture was so different than what he was used to, and while he was still unsure of his being here, he was glad to be experiencing this place.
He snatched his glass up from the bar and decided to move through the long room toward the back where the melody from the piano was coming from. He spotted an available seat toward the back and quickly claimed it settling in. As he looked up to the musical entertainment his breathe caught in his throat; oh. The piano player was the most beautiful man he had seen in years. The dark curls hung in the middle of his forehead and looked soft to the touch; he wanted to run his hands through them. His shoulders were wide and strong leading to his arms and feather-like hands. They were dancing across the keys so delicately he wondered how someone so strong could play so lightly. His eyelashes were long and fluttered as the man played and his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They look like the old leather trunk I have in New York. The whiskey colored eyes suddenly looked into Kurt’s and he couldn’t breathe; he was quickly lost.
Kurt heard the music falter before quickly, almost unknowingly, floated back into its melody as the man grinned. He began to sing and if Kurt wasn’t in love before he was completely head over heels now.
The combination of the simple melody and the man’s gentle but strong voice struck a chord in Kurt’s heart and rendered him motionless. Nothing like this ever would have been played back home and Kurt couldn’t be more thankful that he had stepped into this bar. He sat quietly with a smile on his face sharing small glances and smiles with the pianist as he sang. He felt a great disappointment as the song grew to a close and clapped lightly along with the rest of the patrons as the man thanked everyone and excused himself in the direction of the bar. Kurt sighed and finished the rest of his glass before deciding it was time to head home. As he moved to stand a shadow came into view and blocked him from leaving.
“Vous partez déjà?” (Surely you are not leaving?)
Kurt looked up to see the man from the piano smiling at him with his head tilted to the side and carrying two glasses of wine. “Oui. Je dois retrouver comment rentrer chez moi.” (I was. I need to find my way home.)
The man sat down across from him in the empty chair and held out a glass that Kurt hesitantly took. “Vouz venez d’arriver à Paris?” (Are you new to Paris?)
Kurt nodded and took a sip of the liquid hoping the stranger hadn’t done anything to it. “Oui, j’arriver de New York.” (Yes, I just moved here from New York.)
“So you speak English?”
Kurt sighed in relief and let his shoulder relax. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear someone speak English. I’m afraid I have a bit of culture shock.”
The man chuckled and sipped his wine before speaking. “Yes it’s a different world here, but still wonderful. I’m Blaine.”
Kurt clasped his outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Kurt. Are you from here?”
Blaine shook his head and waved to someone at the bar. “No, though I wish I was. I’m from Ohio actually.”
Kurt choked on the liquid in his mouth before coughing and sputtering. “Oh-Ohio? Are you kidding? That’s where I’m from. Lima actually.”
“Westerville. Wow out of all the places to meet each other.”
“Isn’t it strange?”
Blaine grinned and finished his glass of wine. “It’s definitely a good strange. You said you were lost?”
Kurt nodded and took the last sip of his glass. “Yes. I just moved here two days ago and decided to try and explore today. Only I took a wrong turn and decided to go with it. I didn’t realize what time it was when I came here.”
Blaine nodded and placed his hand lightly on top of Kurt’s on the table. “Yes you’ll realize that time flies in this city when you wander. If you’re ready to head out I can help you find your way back?”
Kurt eyed the man with a grin and raised an eyebrow. “A stranger help me? This has the makings of a horror film.”
Blaine laughed out loud gaining a few glances before standing up. “Please we hail from Ohio, we’re practically neighbors.”
Kurt pretended to contemplate it before standing up and smiling at Blaine. “Oh I suppose otherwise I’ll never get home. Lead the way.”
Blaine reached for his hand and began pulling him out toward the street, ignoring the shocked but giddy look on Kurt’s face as the two disappeared out the doors and into the Parisian night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQGnnivKj2I
~*~
He carefully maneuvered his favorite black boots along the cobblestone street as he glanced around the small area. He had no idea where he was. He had made a wrong turn about two hours ago and instead of asking someone for the correct direction he decided to just go with it. After all it was to be his new home for six months.
He smiled at the quaint bar in the midst of the row that was painted in red with a beautiful gold trim. Patrons were quietly seated around the outside talking amongst themselves. He thought it appeared friendly and inviting. He stepped up onto the sidewalk and through the doorway deciding he would just have a glass of wine before attempting to make his way back to his third floor walk up before it got too dark.
As soon as he stepped inside the memories of his favorite bar in New York came flooding back to him. The interior was rich, warm, and inviting with a deep mahogany bar and furniture. Photographs both brilliant and new and faded and old hung along the walls to remind everyone how long they had been there. People all around him were talking and laughing with their friends and lovers were cozied up together with not a care in the world. The sound of a piano floated through the air and he closed his eyes drinking the ambiance in.
He made his way to the bar and ordered a glass of pinot noir as he stood at the bar and reveled in the atmosphere. The French culture was so different than what he was used to, and while he was still unsure of his being here, he was glad to be experiencing this place.
He snatched his glass up from the bar and decided to move through the long room toward the back where the melody from the piano was coming from. He spotted an available seat toward the back and quickly claimed it settling in. As he looked up to the musical entertainment his breathe caught in his throat; oh. The piano player was the most beautiful man he had seen in years. The dark curls hung in the middle of his forehead and looked soft to the touch; he wanted to run his hands through them. His shoulders were wide and strong leading to his arms and feather-like hands. They were dancing across the keys so delicately he wondered how someone so strong could play so lightly. His eyelashes were long and fluttered as the man played and his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They look like the old leather trunk I have in New York. The whiskey colored eyes suddenly looked into Kurt’s and he couldn’t breathe; he was quickly lost.
Kurt heard the music falter before quickly, almost unknowingly, floated back into its melody as the man grinned. He began to sing and if Kurt wasn’t in love before he was completely head over heels now.
The combination of the simple melody and the man’s gentle but strong voice struck a chord in Kurt’s heart and rendered him motionless. Nothing like this ever would have been played back home and Kurt couldn’t be more thankful that he had stepped into this bar. He sat quietly with a smile on his face sharing small glances and smiles with the pianist as he sang. He felt a great disappointment as the song grew to a close and clapped lightly along with the rest of the patrons as the man thanked everyone and excused himself in the direction of the bar. Kurt sighed and finished the rest of his glass before deciding it was time to head home. As he moved to stand a shadow came into view and blocked him from leaving.
“Vous partez déjà?” (Surely you are not leaving?)
Kurt looked up to see the man from the piano smiling at him with his head tilted to the side and carrying two glasses of wine. “Oui. Je dois retrouver comment rentrer chez moi.” (I was. I need to find my way home.)
The man sat down across from him in the empty chair and held out a glass that Kurt hesitantly took. “Vouz venez d’arriver à Paris?” (Are you new to Paris?)
Kurt nodded and took a sip of the liquid hoping the stranger hadn’t done anything to it. “Oui, j’arriver de New York.” (Yes, I just moved here from New York.)
“So you speak English?”
Kurt sighed in relief and let his shoulder relax. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear someone speak English. I’m afraid I have a bit of culture shock.”
The man chuckled and sipped his wine before speaking. “Yes it’s a different world here, but still wonderful. I’m Blaine.”
Kurt clasped his outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Kurt. Are you from here?”
Blaine shook his head and waved to someone at the bar. “No, though I wish I was. I’m from Ohio actually.”
Kurt choked on the liquid in his mouth before coughing and sputtering. “Oh-Ohio? Are you kidding? That’s where I’m from. Lima actually.”
“Westerville. Wow out of all the places to meet each other.”
“Isn’t it strange?”
Blaine grinned and finished his glass of wine. “It’s definitely a good strange. You said you were lost?”
Kurt nodded and took the last sip of his glass. “Yes. I just moved here two days ago and decided to try and explore today. Only I took a wrong turn and decided to go with it. I didn’t realize what time it was when I came here.”
Blaine nodded and placed his hand lightly on top of Kurt’s on the table. “Yes you’ll realize that time flies in this city when you wander. If you’re ready to head out I can help you find your way back?”
Kurt eyed the man with a grin and raised an eyebrow. “A stranger help me? This has the makings of a horror film.”
Blaine laughed out loud gaining a few glances before standing up. “Please we hail from Ohio, we’re practically neighbors.”
Kurt pretended to contemplate it before standing up and smiling at Blaine. “Oh I suppose otherwise I’ll never get home. Lead the way.”
Blaine reached for his hand and began pulling him out toward the street, ignoring the shocked but giddy look on Kurt’s face as the two disappeared out the doors and into the Parisian night.