Long fic: falling in love at a coffee shop (2/3)
Title: falling in love at a coffee shop (2/3)
Author: littlemrstom
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult Content
Word Count: 23, 500~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot. I especially do not own Glee. Sad times.
Summary: Kurt is an out of work performer in New York who serves in a coffee shop to make the rent. Blaine is a successful businessman, unfulfilled in his career because he followed his father’s dreams instead of his own. This is their story.
Author Notes: This was written for the klaine_endgame fest and I had an absolute blast writing it. Huge, huge thanks go to my beta, spookykat, without whom this would be dramatically incorrect and littered with grammatical errors left, right and centre <3 and the title was borrowed from Landon Pigg's song of the same name.
Part I
Blaine walks into Starbucks the next morning at eight o’clock on the dot feeling oddly chipper and he easily makes his way to the counter, nodding at a slightly greying man in a pinstripe suit that he recognizes from a past business deal. His own suit is suffocating, stuck to his skin and itchy, but not even Blaine can get out of wearing one, no matter how important and all-mighty he feels when wearing it; according to his father, if you’re a man in business, you have to dress like one. Blaine groans and tugs at the opened top button of his shirt, loosening it around his neck as he steps up to the counter. He’s still looking down when a voice in front of him speaks abruptly.
“Good morning, what can I get you, Sir?”
Blaine looks up and blinks at the unfamiliar voice. A blonde girl is standing behind the register, smiling at him far too widely to say it’s this early in the morning. He can’t help but wonder where Kurt is (is he not working today?) but he puts a smile on his lips anyway, and opens his mouth to speak when-
“I’ll take over from here, Britt!” another voice says, and this time it’s the one that Blaine recognizes. He can’t help the way the polite smile on his face turns into a wider, genuine one when Kurt walks over and hip-bumps the blonde girl out of his way. She huffs playfully and taps Kurt on the arm in what seems like retaliation, but she wanders off anyway. “Um, hi,” Kurt then says, breathing hard to recuperate the breath he lost in his skip to the register.
“Good morning, Kurt,” Blaine returns, and he can’t tell if he’s imagining the way Kurt’s cheeks turn slightly pink at the sound of his name. It makes Blaine feel oddly powerful.
Kurt rights himself, straightens his green apron. “Medium drip?”
“You know my coffee order?” Blaine asks, though it comes out more like a statement. He watches Kurt as he moves around fluidly behind the counter, repeating the motions he must make hundreds of times a day. He seems a little less animated than usual, like something is heavy is weighing on his shoulders and he’s trying to hide it. Blaine tries to look without looking like he’s looking, though when Kurt lifts his chin slightly, he knows he’s caught.
“Of course I do,” Kurt answers after a moment, setting the machine running. “I’ve worked in this coffee shop for a little over a year now. I’m pretty good at remembering peoples’ orders. Yours is pretty simple though, nothing fancy like what half the people who come in here order. Half-fat, non-fat, triple shot, vanilla-no wait, make it caramel, can I get extra foam on that?”
Blaine chuckles, despite his attempt to hold it in. It’s like Kurt’s mouth never stops moving. And God, Blaine shouldn’t have thought that because now his mind is conjuring up images of Kurt and his mouth that are far too inappropriate to be thought whilst talking to the subject of said images.
“At least you seem to like your job?” Blaine offers, rubbing a hand over his brow to compose himself as he reaches into his pocket with his other for his wallet, much like he’d done the morning before and the morning before that. Kurt’s shoulders drop a little more.
“You could say so,” he says absently. The machine continues to belt its regular churning sound as his coffee is slowly made under Kurt’s programmed instruction. “I take it by that statement you don’t like yours.”
Blaine pauses for a moment, before he decides on, “You could say so.”
“Very witty, Blaine,” Kurt says, pressing buttons on the machine and placing a lid on Blaine’s coffee cup. “One seventy please.”
“What, not even a hint at a freebie this morning? I feel cheated.” Blaine grins at Kurt as he holds out two dollar bills.
“Hey now.” Kurt lifts an eyebrow. “That was a onetime thing because you needed a pick-me-up. Don’t try to sweet talk me into more, or else I’ll charge you double. Do you want the change today?”
“Nah, keep it.” Blaine accepts his coffee when Kurt hands it to him, and even though he knows that he’s supposed to leave now, he has to physically force his feet to move. The chime on the door rings, which means someone else will want Kurt’s attention and he can’t just stand there, blocking the way, for no reason. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday?” he asks, regretting saying the words as soon as they’re out there because the hopefulness attached to them is so blatant.
Kurt smiles at him, a little wearily, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “You know it.”
With that, Blaine turns and leaves the store, coffee in hand. He has to stop himself from waving to Kurt as he catches his eye through the shop window when he turns right out of the door, and instead chooses to watch his feet as he walks, keeping his eyes downcast on the floor. He has a half day at work today, because he’s booked the afternoon off to go home and work on his music before going out with Wes again. He knows he’s probably taking advantage of his liberties, but hey, he’s entitled. And fuck if he doesn’t need to get a certain barista out of his head.
---
Blaine’s plan to get Kurt out of his head doesn’t really work. He spends the afternoon in his apartment, taking solace in the six strings of his favourite guitar and ivory keys, before changing and crossing town to meet Wes. And as soon as they enter Liquid, Blaine’s jaw drops to the floor and he stalls in his step.
“Blaine?” Wes asks worriedly, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. “Blaine, man, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wes pats him on the back, hard, and he coughs, straightening up and pulling on the bottom of his check over-shirt. Kurt is standing by the bar, sipping away at something colourful and he looks-fuck, he looks, well, incredibly hot. He’s wearing skin-tight white jeans that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and a fitted black v-necked t-shirt that dips just enough so that Blaine can see the beginnings of the definition of his chest, even from this distance. He swallows thickly and follows Wes through the club until they’re standing at the opposite end of the bar to Kurt.
“What the hell was that, man?” Wes asks him as he orders them two beers. He slides one to Blaine across the bar top, slicking freezing condensation across the wooden top as he does so, and Blaine catches it easily in his palm.
“Nothing, I just… saw someone, is all,” he responds vaguely, taking a long chug of his beer; if he’s going to talk to Kurt about something other than coffee, he’s going to need a lot of dutch courage.
“Not one of your past, er, encounters?” Wes elbows him in the side playfully, and Blaine nearly chokes on his beer.
“No,” he says quickly. “Definitely no.”
“I see. Gonna go talk to him?”
Blaine’s eyes dart over to where Kurt is still stood; his foot is tapping and his hair (which he notices is a little bigger than usual, quiffed a little higher) is bouncing with the slight movement. “Maybe,” he says, though he knows he will, whether he wants to or not because he’d be an idiot to turn down an opportunity like this. It’s like Kurt has put himself on a plate and delivered himself right to Blaine’s front door. Sort of.
Blaine shudders as he knocks back the rest of his beer, probably too quickly, and it flows, bitter and cold, down his throat. He smacks the bar to get the bartender’s attention and orders himself another, despite the fact that Wes is only halfway through his first.
“I’m just gonna-” he starts, nodding in Kurt’s general direction, and Wes just smirks at him, pushing him away.
Blaine nearly falls onto Kurt when he reaches him, though he doesn’t mean to. He stumbles and just manages to catch himself on the railing, and Kurt turns his head and spots Blaine before Blaine is ready to be spotted. He straightens up and places his beer (that miraculously didn’t go all over his shoes) on the top of the bar, smiling awkwardly.
“Sorry, I don’t serve outside my work hours,” Kurt says lowly, recognition dawning behind his eyes, and he smiles back at Blaine, turning his body towards him.
“What?” Blaine still can’t get over how Kurt looks. Sure, he’d thought he was cute before, with his dark green apron and loose white shirt that made up his uniform and that little embarrassed smile Blaine knew to grace his features when he knew he’d said too much, but this-Blaine thinks a few wires might have disconnected somewhere in his brain.
“Nevermind,” Kurt says, shaking his head slightly. He gives Blaine a sideways glance, and Blaine suddenly wishes he’d had another beer or two or three before daring to come over because this Kurt-the one in sinful clothing and having drunk something presumably very alcoholic-is completely different to the somewhat dorky barista that served him his morning medium drip earlier in the day. “You look different out of your suit.”
Blaine glances down at his body, hoping that ‘different’ translates as ‘good’, because he’s not sure if it does. He doesn’t ask for clarification. “Um, so do you,” he replies, and he can’t stop himself from looking at Kurt’s body again. He can literally see the junctures of where his torso meets his thighs, the slight ripple of muscle across his abdomen, the swells of bicep just visible where his sleeves end. “Very, er, very different.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Kurt takes a step nearer to him, and Blaine can feel himself tensing up, so he takes a swig of his beer and a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. It sort of works. From this vantage point, he can see the drink in Kurt’s hand (which is nearly empty) looks like a cosmopolitan. “I hope it’s not,” Kurt finishes, and they way he bats his eyelids at Blaine is enough to have him swallowing and thinking quickly of what to say in reply to that.
“Definitely not a bad thing,” Blaine can’t help but say, though when Kurt’s smile grows and he inches even closer to him down the bar, he doesn’t regret it at all. “Want a refill?” he asks, nodding towards Kurt’s almost finished drink, finding that the look on Kurt’s face is reinstating some sense into him, for which he is more than thankful.
“So I’m getting a free drink now?” Kurt smirks.
“Touché,” Blaine returns, grinning now. “A cosmo, right?” Kurt nods and Blaine turns to the bar, ordering a cosmo for Kurt and another beer for himself. He nods at Wes, still stood at the other end of the bar, and Wes just gives him a questioning look that Blaine pretends he didn’t see.
Turning back, Blaine sees that Kurt has placed his now-empty glass behind him and is looking at Blaine with slightly narrowed eyes, his lips twisted together at the corner. He looks positively impish and Blaine can’t quite make the link between the barista he (thinks he) knows and the man currently stood in front of him. Kurt accepts the drink that Blaine holds out to him and takes a sip through the pink straw that’s resting in it, before placing it back on the bar and looking pointedly at Blaine.
“What?” Blaine asks cautiously. He watches Kurt over the bottle he tips to his lips, trying to figure out what exactly the hidden smirk on his face is supposed to mean.
“Are you going to ask me to dance then or am I going to have to ask you?” Kurt says, and Blaine lets out the biggest sigh ever that Kurt made the first move because if he hadn’t, Blaine’s not sure he would have been able to muster up the balls to do it and he really, really wants to dance with Kurt.
Dismissing his beer, Blaine steps forward away from Kurt and holds out his hand and clears his throat in mock-gentlemanly graciousness. “May I have this dance?” he asks as smoothly as he can manage with his stomach flipping. He tells himself it’s just the three bottles of beer he’s consumed sloshing about and does his best to ignore it.
“Yes, you may,” Kurt grins, accepting Blaine’s hand, and then Blaine is tugging on his arm and they’re spinning into the crowd of people, being instantly thrust against each other and it’s then that Blaine feels the heat emanating from Kurt’s body. It, along with the general humidity of the club, wraps around him and pushes them together and after a moment, he dares to place his hands low on Kurt’s hips, pleased when Kurt smiles and rests his forearms on his shoulders in return.
In his lust and alcohol-induced haze, as Blaine sways against Kurt in time to the bass pounding out of the speakers, he idly thinks back to the morning, when he’d strolled into Starbucks and spotted Kurt. He’d never imagined meeting Kurt in a club, let alone a club like Liquid; Blaine had never even known for sure that Kurt was gay (although his perfectly styled hair and flawless complexion had definitely put ideas into his head). Most of all, Blaine never imagined dancing like this with Kurt, and, hey, is he… grinding?
Blaine also wonders how many cosmos Kurt had to drink before he arrived, but he doesn’t really have time to dwell on the thought as he’s jerked back to reality by Kurt’s eyes flashing down to his lips; by Kurt’s hands on the back of his neck, his palms sticky and warm and all over and he’s being pulled forward and he doesn’t try to stop Kurt as he is drawn wonderfully close to his face until their mouths are touching.
Kurt tastes like cranberries and vodka all over his lips, especially when he darts his tongue out to outline the edges of Blaine’s mouth and Blaine is kind of mentally everywhere, trying to process when exactly they switched from dancing to grinding to kissing. It’s all a little hazy and lost in the literal fog surrounding his head, but Blaine isn’t going to complain, especially when Kurt moves so that one of Blaine’s legs are resting between his and he begins to move his groin slowly against him.
Kurt blows fruity breaths directly into Blaine’s ear when he tips his head to disconnect their lips, and his hands slide up into Blaine’s hair, tugging on the loose curls at the nape of his neck. “Do you want to get out of here?” Kurt whispers, and Blaine barely catches it over the obscenely loud noise of the music, but he does, thank god he does, and he nods frantically, tightening the grip he has on Kurt’s hips until he’s able to begin guiding them out of the sea of people they’re almost drowning in.
---
After a brief, somewhat slurred (on both their behalves) conversation they decide to stumble back to Blaine’s apartment because it’s closer, or at least that’s the reasoning they come up with. Blaine comes across Wes, hovering on the outskirts of the dance floor as they’re leaving the club and all he has to do is clap him on the back for him to get the message.
“Go get it, Blaine!” he shouts in his ear as he walks past, and Blaine just kicks a foot out behind him, getting Wes right in the leg in response.
The night air outside the club is refreshing as Blaine drinks it in through his nostrils, his arms wrapped around Kurt’s waist, holding him close, just in case he decides to run off. Blaine doesn’t think he will, at least not with the way he’s clinging back and reaching up to attach his lips to his jaw every five seconds, but still, he doesn’t want to take the chance.
It’s nearing one a.m. when they fall into the elevator to get up to Blaine’s apartment, Blaine reaching to press the button numbered ‘11’ and accidentally catching the ones numbered ‘5’ and ‘8’ as he does so. Not that he particularly notices, because as soon as the large metal doors shut, enclosing them in the small space, Kurt is stepping forward and latching onto Blaine with his fingers and bringing their mouths together again. Kurt still tastes like cranberries, only it’s not quite as strong now because he tastes like the beer Blaine has been drinking, and Blaine also thinks he can sort of taste what he guesses must just be Kurt underneath all the alcohol.
The elevator pings when it comes to a halt on the fifth floor, and Kurt groans as he goes to pull away.
“Not yet,” Blaine says, and tugs a confused Kurt back to him, his chest warm against Blaine’s through their damp-with-perspiration shirts. He jerkily rotates them until Blaine is the one pressing Kurt into the side of the elevator and Kurt lets out a long breath, pulling Blaine’s head down again until they’re kissing once more and damn if Kurt isn’t a good kisser, Blaine thinks, but then the elevator is dinging again and they’ve suddenly reached the eleventh floor. Blaine doesn’t remember them reaching the eighth, but he dismisses the thought as Kurt pulls him out of the elevator car and begins walking them down the hall, even though he doesn’t know which door he wants.
Blaine fumbles with his keys for a good minute before he finds the one he needs and lets them into his apartment. It’s kind of messy and way too stuffy, though Kurt doesn’t seem to notice either of those things, especially not if the way he glances around himself in complete awe is anything to go by.
“Nice place,” he says appreciatively, hands clawing at Blaine’s shirt as soon as Blaine has shut and locked the door behind them. His fingers play with the first fastened button of Blaine’s shirt and Blaine watches with fascinated eyes as he opens it and moves onto the next one.
“Thanks,” Blaine says, somehow remembering his manners. He feels more comfortable now, trapped in the safety of his own lodgings, and Kurt is obviously making himself at home because he kicks off his shoes, losing a couple of inches and bringing himself closer to Blaine’s level. Kurt pops another of his buttons and soon his shirt is completely open and Kurt’s fingertips are instantly tracing over the skin of his chest, his fingers trailing through the hair he finds there and sending shivers through Blaine’s body. “Bedroom?” he asks, voice shaking in what he’s taking to be anticipation, and Kurt replies with a rapid “yes”, so he directs them to the room on the left.
As soon as Kurt enters the bedroom he throws himself onto the bed, looking around in awe once more. Blaine allows himself a moment to savour the way Kurt looks on his bed, slightly dishevelled with his shirt collar wonky around his neck and the hem bunched a bit at the base. He can clearly see the outline of Kurt’s groin, prominent inside his should-be-illegally-tight jeans, and he has to place a hand on his doorframe to keep himself standing; the cool night air has sobered him up slightly, but not enough to rid him of all the effects.
“What are you waiting for?” Kurt’s voice snaps Blaine out of his trance, and he looks up and-whoa, when did Kurt take off his shirt? It seems he’s been staring for longer than he remembers, because Kurt has lost his shirt and the buttons on his jeans are unfastened, allowing Blaine to see the triangle of hair that leads down to-oh god.
Blaine’s really doing this. The thought suddenly hits him as he strides across to the bed, yanking his own shirt off over his arms and dropping it to the floor as he goes. Kurt grins when Blaine moves to lean over him, but a hand against his chest stops him and just when Blaine begins to wonder if Kurt has changed his mind, he finds himself on his back, arms sprawled above his head. Kurt grins down at him deviously, his eyes dark and hooded as he traces patterns on Blaine’s chest, which is heaving up and down quickly, and Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat when Kurt’s fingers find his jeans and pull them down until they’re resting in the junctures of his knees.
“God, you look so good like this,” Kurt breathes as he repeats his last action with Blaine’s boxers until he’s taking Blaine’s hardness between his palms and Blaine has to remind himself to breathe (in and out, in and out) because those words coming out of Kurt’s mouth-Kurt, the cute little barista who has served him his medium drip so politely the past three mornings-should not be allowed to sound so filthy.
The noise Kurt makes when he leans down and takes the head of Blaine’s cock into his mouth also should not be allowed to sound so filthy, but it does and Blaine is well aware of that fact as the sound forces even more blood to rush south of his brain, rendering him almost speechless. Kurt settles himself between Blaine’s legs, positioned so that he has some leeway to be able to rut against the side of Blaine’s bed, and Blaine’s hands find his hair, pulling it out of its well-styled quiff.
He tries not to tug, he really does, but Blaine is a tugger (a habit for which he personally blames Jeremiah and his wavy shoulder length hair), but Kurt doesn’t seem to mind, humming against Blaine’s length as he slides the tip of his tongue over the slit of Blaine’s dick.
“Kurt, ugh, are you sure we should-” Blaine lets out a short pant as Kurt’s left hand comes up to cup his balls, squeezing just so, and he has to close his eyes to be able to focus enough to form complete words. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rational Blaine has made an appearance, and Blaine knows in the morning he’ll be glad for it, just to keep his conscience clear because Blaine knows Kurt more than he’s ever known any of the other people he’s slept with, and as much as it mystifies him, Blaine likes Kurt, too, but right now Infatuated Blaine kind of wants to kick Rational Blaine in the shin until he goes down because he’s making Kurt pull off his cock where he’d been suckling him just right and then Kurt is looking up at him dazedly with his eyebrows raised.
“Blaine,” Kurt says pointedly, his hands remaining on and around Blaine’s throbbing member. His hands are soft, Blaine can’t help but notice, soft and gentle and they feel so good on him. “I just had your cock in my mouth. I think I’m sure about this. Are you sure?”
Blaine doesn’t hear the question. Kurt just said the word cock. Ignoring the fact that he just had it between his lips (even though Blaine can’t easily forget that teensy detail when Kurt lowers his head and begins kissing his abdomen instead, so close to him yet at the same time so far away), he can’t get over Kurt saying the word because saying it seems so much dirtier than the action itself.
He manages to force out the words “I’m sure”, or at least he’s pretty certain he does because Kurt is suddenly smiling and leaning down a second time to take him back in, and pleasure shoots through Blaine’s entire person again as Kurt hollows his cheeks and sucks until Blaine is sure he feels the back of his throat. His head goes light at that, at Kurt-innocent, modest barista Kurt-deepthroating him perfectly without his eyes so much as watering.
In between every breath that Kurt takes, Blaine wishes that Kurt would do this to him all night. Who cares about screwing when Kurt’s mouth feels like silk around him and his hands glide across his skin like another piece of the same fabric, but then Blaine registers the thought that just ran through his brain and suddenly he’s tugging on Kurt’s hair harder, pulling him up and away and then Kurt’s face is before his, flushed and sweaty and smiling broadly. Who cares about screwing? Blaine does, that’s who.
And from the look on Kurt’s face as he finally disregards Blaine’s jeans and underwear completely, he does, too.
It’s as if he can read Blaine’s mind as he disposes of his own pants, struggling slightly to pull the tight denim off because of his damp legs. He tosses them carelessly to the floor, his underwear following, and then he crawls up the bed until he’s in Blaine’s lap, their clammy skin coming into contact. Kurt’s thighs lock around Blaine’s waist and his arms flop over his shoulders as their mouths meet once more, sloppy and frantic, and Blaine groans into the kiss, taking Kurt’s face between his hands and tilting his chin up in order to deepen the kiss.
Kurt replies to Blaine’s groan with a pleased hum, his hips rocking over Blaine’s and Blaine lets out a small gasp when he feels his cock slip into the hot crease of Kurt’s ass. Kurt just grins against his cheek and rolls his hips again as if to accentuate the placements of their bodies. “What are you waiting for, Blaine?” Kurt says against his ear, lapping at the shell and biting gently at the lobe. Kurt has returned the favour of tangling his hands into Blaine’s curly hair and Blaine shivers as Kurt’s breath passes across his ear and cheek.
Blaine knows what those words mean. He especially knows what they mean when placed with the expression that currently resides on Kurt’s face; flushed, impatient, excited. Not wanting to make him wait any longer than absolutely necessary, he carefully untangles himself from Kurt and pushes at his shoulders until he’s lain out on his bed. He has to pause in his step where he’s reaching into his bedside table for lube and condoms to admire the curves of Kurt’s body as he settles against his pillows, his eyes shut in a semblance of patience Blaine can tell is fake because his cock is twitching briefly against his flat stomach.
He blinks, grabbing what he needs out of the drawer before he slams it shut and Kurt’s eyes open.
“About time,” Kurt says, grinning, and his arms encircle Blaine’s shoulders again when he moves slowly to position himself over him. He captures Blaine’s lips in his and pushes his hips up to meet Blaine’s, groaning loudly into his mouth at the beautiful friction he gains. “Come on, Mr Medium Drip,” Kurt croons, and Blaine moans, snatching up the lube from where it’s fallen to his side.
He wastes no time after that, pulling Kurt’s knees up to give him more space and he preps him as quickly as he dares. Behind the alcohol flooding his brain, he’s careful not to hurt Kurt, listening to the noises he makes (and storing them in the hidden nooks of his brain for future reference). He slides in one finger, then two, then three until Kurt is cursing at him and telling him to get the fuck on with it.
Not one to disappoint, Blaine fumbles with a condom, eventually managing to roll it on, and then he’s sliding into Kurt and his head is fucking exploding. He knows already that he won’t last long, especially not if Kurt keeps making those little breathy noises every time Blaine pushes inside him, because the warning signs of his impending orgasm (curling toes, bubbling stomach, raging groin) are already there. He holds himself up over Kurt, the veins in his biceps straining (something which Kurt seems very interested in because he keeps running his fingers over them), and rocks his hips. He watches as Kurt puts a hand between them and grabs his cock, and Blaine takes that to mean he’s close, too, so he doesn’t feel quite so guilty when he comes much earlier than he’d have liked, but Kurt doesn’t complain; he cries out as he follows in Blaine’s footsteps and consequently squeezes almost painfully tightly around Blaine’s cock, making Blaine whimper from the oversensitivity at the head.
“Oh, shit,” he moans when Kurt finally relaxes enough for him to pull out, and then he falls to the bed beside Kurt, completely boneless. He’s not really sure what to do now; he has plenty of practice with one night stands, but he’s not sure if this is one of those or not. Sure, Kurt’s not said anything to indicate differently, but then, tonight hasn’t exactly been about talking. Still, Blaine hopes that their interactions over coffee haven’t been for nothing.
His brain pulses inside his skull, as if telling him to stop overanalysing everything and to just enjoy having Kurt in such close proximity, completely spent and clinging to him, no less. And he does. He’s tempted to ask if Kurt wants to go clean up, but when he turns his head to the side to try and get the words out, he sees that Kurt is already blinking sleepily, his arms curling around Blaine’s middle, and who is Blaine to disturb him?
So he copies Kurt by wiggling an arm behind his head and closing his eyes. He feels Kurt’s head lift and place itself on his chest, moving closer, and Blaine can’t help but smile as he drifts off, the confusion he feels leaving him momentarily.
He can deal with that in the morning.
---------
When Kurt sits up and opens his eyes the next morning, it’s the headache that hits him first. Light pours in through the open blinds and streams right into this eyes, forcing him to shut them and flop back onto the bed again. He expects to land on soft mattress, but instead his back meets bony shoulder and he groans, the sound being echoed from somewhere beneath a pile of pillows.
“Um,” he says, reaching forward to pluck a pillow off the body next to him. Beneath it he sees Blaine, rumpled with sleep and very, very naked, and the previous night comes crashing back to him. The alcohol. The dancing. The sex.
God, the sex.
Kurt can feel it when he moves, burning in the way only an incredible tumble in the sheets can make it burn. When he pauses, he can feel his heart burn a little, too, but he brushes it off and ignores it, choosing instead to shuffle back down the bed and tuck himself under Blaine’s arm again, placed as if it had been wrapped around his shoulders.
He doesn’t have time to fall back to sleep though, because soon Blaine is stirring, his muscles contracting underneath Kurt’s body and Kurt turns towards him as he opens his bleary eyes and spots him.
“Good morning,” Kurt says quietly, because if Blaine’s head feels anything like his own, he thinks they’re going have to speak in whispers for the better part of the morning.
Blaine pauses, as if piecing together last night, similar to what Kurt had done only moments before, but then he gives a small smile like he remembers. “Mm, morning,” he replies, and he makes to move until he realises that Kurt is in the way and alternatively settles back down. He doesn’t say anything after that, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling, and Kurt can’t really blame him because he doesn’t know what else to say, either. This is usually the time where the guest leaves, but Kurt doesn’t want to, and Blaine isn’t giving off vibes that say he’s unwelcome, so he stays put in Blaine’s bed, stays resting on Blaine’s chest and allows the heat radiating off of him to envelope them whole.
He stays there for a while; after a few minutes Blaine’s fingers begin to absentmindedly trace patterns against his right collarbone. Kurt would stay there for days if he could, but he sort of needs to use the bathroom and-yeah, he needs to shower. He grimaces as he sits up a second time, feeling the after effects of last night down below and Blaine turns his head towards him at the movement, brows furrowed in confusion.
Kurt smiles at him gently and pulls the blankets up to cover himself, even if Blaine has already seen every part of him. He blushes gently at the thought. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asks, and he hears Blaine let out a little sigh that he thinks is of relief, but he can’t be sure.
“Sure,” Blaine replies. “It’s just through there.” He points to the door leading off from his bedroom (which, when Kurt actually looks around, is ridiculously clean) and Kurt nods, feeling daring as he leans down to give Blaine a short kiss before standing up. He pulls on yesterday’s underwear that he finds on the floor and disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against the back of it, letting out a long breath once he’s hidden.
He quickly relieves himself, figures out how to work the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash over his skin as he thinks back to the (extremely handsome) man in the next room and how he ended up here. He doesn’t remember all of it, only the important parts, and even under the heat of the water he shivers as he washes himself down, remembering the way Blaine had put his fingers (and other parts of himself) inside of him and made him feel amazing. He remembers feeling amazing from almost the very moment Blaine entered the bar because Blaine had spotted him immediately and there had been no denying the way his eyes had zeroed in on him and fixed themselves there.
Once Kurt feels suitably clean, he flicks the shower knob to the off position and climbs out, only then realising that he hasn’t brought his clothes into the bathroom with him (he was tired, okay?). He treads carefully over the tiled floor and opens what he guesses is the linen closet, pulling out a towel. He pats himself down, turning around and spotting what appears to be a clean t-shirt hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Not knowing what else to do, he pulls it on, followed by his underwear, and then leaves the towel folded over the side of the shower.
He takes a deep breath, wondering if Blaine will still be in bed when he goes back into the bedroom and if he is, is Kurt supposed to just leave now? Luckily, Kurt discovers when he opens the door that Blaine isn’t still in bed and he steps into Blaine’s room again. Blaine has risen and dressed himself in clean clothes (dark wash, surprisingly tight jeans and a casual t-shirt), and his eyes widen when they land on Kurt as soon as he reappears.
Kurt can’t help the blush that tinges his cheeks. He picks at the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt as he finds and pulls on his jeans from yesterday. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your shirt, I didn’t take mine in with me. I can swap it back now if you like, I don’t mind-”
“It looks good on you. Leave it on,” Blaine says, his voice stuttering slightly, but Kurt finds it somewhat adorable how he’s trying to act so sure of himself when it’s clear he’s just as confused as Kurt is. “Sorry about earlier,” he continues, and Kurt blinks at him owlishly. “I’m not the most coherent person first thing in the morning.”
Kurt smiles and chuckles, looking briefly down at his chest and the material covering it. “Don’t worry about it. You’re awake now though, right?”
Blaine nods, and Kurt watches as he rearranges his pillows into a semblance of how they should be. He folds back the sheets, hiding the damp patches they both see in favour of ignoring them. Kurt folds his hands together in his lap and tries to think of what to say, which is strange for him, because usually the problem he has around Blaine is shutting the hell up.
Blaine beats him to it though, and turns to him with slightly pink cheeks as he says, “So, do you want to go get coffee or something? Maybe talk?”
Kurt can’t help but grin at the offer; of course Blaine would choose to socialize over coffee, but then his lips curl downwards a little as he tries to phrase himself correctly for what he wants to say. “Blaine. I work with coffee. Can’t say as I drink it much.” He laughs easily, trying to alleviate the redness that intensifies over Blaine’s cheeks at Kurt’s words, and Kurt just wants to walk over and kiss the flush away, though he thinks that might be pushing the (undetermined) boundaries a little.
“Tea?” Blaine offers alternatively.
“Work with that, too.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Ditto.”
“Um. A pastry?”
“Blaine.” Kurt doesn’t want to sound like he’s turning him down, because he is definitely not, so he walks over to him and places a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently (secretly pleased with what he feels, remembering at the same time what they felt like surrounding him last night) and looking anywhere but at his lips.
Blaine laughs then, too, awkwardly, and runs a palm over his forehead as he thinks of another suggestion. “Man, what don’t you work with? Pizza?” he says jokingly, but Kurt’s stomach gives a happy little flip at the mention of solid, unhealthy food and, as if on cue, it rumbles loudly. He laughs embarrassedly.
“You know, I could actually go for pizza,” Kurt says seriously, squeezing Blaine’s arm a bit tighter. “What do you say? I’m sure somewhere will be open at…” He glances at his watch. “Eleven a.m. on a Saturday morning. Let’s go!”
---
This is how Kurt finds himself seated in a deserted pizzeria on a backstreet he’s never so much as seen before, splitting a large, greasy pepperoni pizza with Blaine, who has still somehow managed to get his hands on coffee, even in a grotty place like this.
“It’s not my usual, nor is it really any good, but it is caffeine,” he had said, nearly draining the entire cupful in one and grimacing as he’d placed it back down in front of him.
“You know, I’ve lived in New York my entire life and I’ve always known that you could supposedly get pizza at any time of day, but I have never ever actually tried it,” Blaine says a few minutes later when their pizza is over half eaten and their fingertips are similarly sticky, and Kurt slips his fore and middle fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. He watches as Blaine’s eyes follow his fingers, and Kurt can’t help but feel a little naughty as he pulls them out and he helps himself to another slice.
“I’ve never done it either,” Kurt replies, now watching as Blaine diverts his gaze. “But I’ve not been here as long as you.”
“How long have you lived in New York?” Blaine looks at Kurt curiously, wiping his hands on a napkin instead of copying Kurt’s last (somewhat lewd) action.
“About five years. I moved here for college.” Kurt takes a bite and pauses speaking as he chews. “The plan was to get a job in my major afterwards, but I’m still sadly waiting on that part of the deal.”
“What was your major?”
“Musical theatre. I went to Tisch, you know?” Kurt swallows, just something to take his mind off the tug of failure he feels in the gut of his stomach. “It’s okay though, I guess,” he lies, and he can tell from the look in Blaine’s eye that he’s not very believable; maybe something about the lack of conviction he says the words with. “At least I have a job, even if it’s not what I dreamt of.”
Blaine smiles at him as he sits back in his chair, the pizza now completely demolished. “Well, if you ever fancy changing fields, I can get you a job at my firm,” he says, only half joking. “Well, my father’s firm. May as well be mine for all the work he puts in, though.”
“I think you’ve mentioned that before, Mr Hotshot Business Man. I’ll think I’ll stick to Starbucks, though. I wouldn’t be able to serve you your Medium Drip if I worked for you, would I?” At that, they look at each other demurely and it’s at that moment that Kurt knows this thing between them is felt by Blaine, too. “I had never seen you in the shop until this week, though,” Kurt continues, breaking the silence that has fallen over them at the realisation.
Blaine opens his mouth to respond, his lips lifting up amusedly at the corners. “I-”, he starts, but it’s then that the young woman who served them their food comes over to clear the table. She leaves the bill carelessly behind and saunters away again, her headphones plugged unprofessionally in her ears. Kurt moves to pull out his wallet, but Blaine stops him with a warm hand on his. “I’ve got this,” Blaine says, pulling out a few dollars and leaving them on the table. He pulls Kurt up with the hand still laid over his, and then they leave and Kurt doesn’t know what to say again. Is this how it’s going to be? Stilted conversation until the awkwardness blows over?
“So are you any good?” Blaine says as they turn the corner and begin walking aimlessly down the street. “I mean, if you have a degree in musical theatre, I presume you are.”
“What?” Kurt asks before the words have time to register and order themselves in his brain. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. I always thought I was, but every time you get told ‘no’ at an audition, you start to re-evaluate, you know?”
“I can see how that could affect a person.” Blaine looks thoughtful as Kurt watches him out the corner of his eye, and he can’t help but notice how close to each other they’re walking. Their pinkies brush and Kurt feels a tremor run through his entire body, from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. Blaine turns quiet after that, but this silence… it’s not awkward, Kurt notices. They’re just two people enjoying each other’s company, until Kurt looks up and sees Blaine watching him they way he’s been trying to not watch Blaine all morning.
Kurt bows his head to look as his feet, not used to this kind of attention. “Where are we headed?” he asks, hoping to distract Blaine’s attention from his face, but mostly it just makes Blaine stare at him harder, their eyes locking parallel to the pavestones beneath their feet.
Blaine just shrugs. “Haven’t a clue. Is there anywhere else you need to be? You don’t have to work, do you?”
Kurt shakes his head gently. “Nope. I’m all yours. If you want.” The words sort of escape his throat before he can stop them, but Blaine just smiles at him and he figures maybe it was alright to say them. “We could…” he starts, feeling surprisingly brave. “Um, I live just a couple blocks from here. We could go back to my place? I have emergency coffee?” he teases, and Blaine’s smile turns into a grin, which Kurt takes to be an answer in the affirmative, so he (even more bravely) grabs Blaine’s hand and pulls him down the correct streets to his apartment building.
---
“Kurt, why do you have one of my business cards on your bulletin board?” is the first thing Blaine says when they reach and enter Kurt’s apartment. They take the stairs up to the sixth floor because the elevator is broken and Kurt’s heart hammers harder in his chest with every new floor they reach.
Kurt blanches. “Um,” he says. “You dropped it on the counter the first morning we met.”
Blaine turns around from where he’s stood looking at the card and notices Kurt’s face. He steps up to him and leans against the wall, looking at Kurt fondly. “You kept it?”
“I might need furniture moving at some point?” Kurt offers after a short pause, and he’s just about to swiftly change the subject when Blaine swoops in and kisses him. The move knocks the breath out of Kurt a little and he reaches out a hand and grabs the doorframe to keep himself standing because he had not been expecting that. He knows that he and Blaine have been tiptoeing around the topic of last night all morning, neither of them really wanting to delve deeper and figure out what it really meant without the beer-goggles making everything sparkle, but he’d never expected Blaine to be so forward with him without the confidence his suit gives him or without any liquid courage in his system.
Not that Kurt is complaining; he’s not complaining at all, because as soon as Blaine’s lips fix on Kurt’s and fuse themselves there, Kurt lets go of the doorframe in favour of wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and anchoring himself there, allowing the kiss to deepen as Blaine’s tongue probes at his lips and pushes between them gently, just enough to let him get a taste of Kurt, who tastes like pepperoni and stale alcohol.
Blaine tastes similar, except the alcohol is covered up by the taste of coffee and Kurt doesn’t seem to mind coffee when he tastes it off Blaine’s tongue. He holds tighter around Blaine’s neck and moves closer to him until their chests are touching, and Kurt can feel his ribcage thudding against the beating of his heart in time with Blaine’s through the material of Blaine’s shirt that he’s still wearing. The thought passes through his mind that he left his own shirt on the floor of Blaine’s apartment, but when Blaine presses his hips closer to Kurt’s, close enough to feel-oh-everything, the thought flies straight from Kurt’s mind and he’s beginning to walk backwards towards where he knows the sofa is.
They crash onto the cushions that dip and groan beneath their joint weight, and Kurt works their bodies until Blaine is resting over him and their lips eventually part, the kiss ending, leaving them breathless and panting, lost for words.
Blaine sits back quickly, resting on his knees over Kurt, who now, when actually having to make eye contact with Blaine, is blushing heavily and placing a hand on his cheek to try and conceal that fact.”Wow, um, sorry,” Blaine stammers, though he makes no move to get off Kurt, which Kurt both likes and hates because he can feel the heat radiating off Blaine’s body and it’s making him feel all funny in his belly.
Kurt bites his bottom lip, reaching out his hand for Blaine’s until their fingers twine. “Don’t be,” he whispers, unable to get the words out with more of the assurance he wants to be behind them because he’s nervous about dancing over this line when he’s sober.
In response to Kurt’s words, Blaine’s face changes as he looks down at Kurt, their fingers tangling and untangling, only to tangle again in a different arrangement that shows just how flexible the two of them are as a pair. He breathes in, and Kurt watches the way his chest expands through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing, and then he leans down and kisses Kurt again, but this time it’s softer, sweeter, utterly toe-curling in the best possible way.
Kurt’s hands find their way around Blaine’s neck again until he’s flush against him, and Kurt doesn’t recall when the kiss turned into more, but it does; the slow stripping of clothes and the gentle sounds of their skin rubbing together, and afterwards they doze on Kurt’s sofa, wrapped together until the shrill ring of Kurt’s phone sounds throughout the apartment.
---
Kurt groans, his eyes blinking open sleepily. Something heavy and solid rests over his chest, and when he opens his eyes his vision lands on a head of messy dark curls and he remembers: Blaine. His chest flutters as he reaches his hand out, grappling with thin air until his fingers brush over his phone that apparently slid out of his jeans pocket when they were dumped on the floor. He sweeps his fingers over his cell, catching it between them on the upstroke and quickly shuts off the noise.
“Hello?” he whispers, not having checked the caller ID before answering.
“Hello? Kurt?” Rachel’s voice travels over the city, her tone matching Kurt’s hushed one. “Why are we whispering?”
Kurt smiles to himself, because he knows he’s going to have to tell Rachel everything. He shifts as smoothly as he can, trying to slip out from underneath Blaine without waking him, though it doesn’t work. Blaine moves slowly as he wakes, his arms coming to encircle Kurt and hold him back against his chest. Kurt’s smile grows as he pries Blaine’s arms off him gently. “Hi,” he says quietly to him, moving the receiver away from his mouth momentarily. “I’ll be back in a minute, I have to take this.” He leans down and gives Blaine a sweet kiss, simply because he feels like he can, though when Blaine tries to intensify it by slipping his tongue between Kurt’s lips to kiss him deeply and languidly, Kurt pulls back and taps him on the nose in reproach. “Be good. I’ll be back.” Kurt steps into his underwear, a strong sense of déjà-vu clouding over him, and then he wanders away into his kitchen where he leans against the counter so he is still able to see Blaine-who seems to have fallen straight back to sleep-over the breakfast bar that divides his living room and kitchen area.
“Kurt, are you still there? Who were you talking to?” Rachel is asking when Kurt replaces the phone to his ear, and he just smiles even harder down the line, despite the fact that Rachel can’t see him.
“I’m here,” he says, his voice still low but not quite in as soft of a tone as before. “And, um, I was talking to Blaine.” He pauses, waiting for what he knows will be Rachel’s response.
“Blaine?” Rachel takes a moment to try and place the name. When she can’t, she continues with, “Who’s Blaine? I’ve not heard of a Blaine before! Kurt Hummel, I think you have some explaining to do. And don’t just say he’s one of your one night stands. No one talks to a one night stand the way you spoke to Blaine.”
“Like you would know,” Kurt replies amusedly. “The only one night stand you planned on having ended up turning into your forthcoming marriage.” Rachel lets out a huff of laughter over the line, though she can’t deny the truth.
“Still waiting for an explanation here, Hummel,” she says, and Kurt can almost hear her foot tapping with impatience.
“I’m not quite sure what he is,” he says honestly. Rachel scoffs over the line disbelievingly. “Seriously, Rach.” He watches as Blaine rolls over, burying his face in the sofa cushion where Kurt’s head had just been, and he lowers his voice again before he continues. “I’ve known him about a week, he started coming to Starbucks. We flirted a bit, I guess, but I thought it was just playful banter at first, you know?”
“Hmm. Continue..”
“God, Rach, so nosey.”
“Correction: I’m interested, not nosey. Whenever there is what sounds like a semi-permanent change in Kurt Hummel’s love life, one must pay full attention,” she tells him firmly. “Now go on.”
Kurt chuckles quietly. “Well, we were both in Liquid on Friday night and he came over to me and we danced and then we kind of, sort of ended up at his apartment. I’ll let you figure out what went down there, but I stayed the night and then this morning we went and got pizza-”
“-Pizza?”
“Yes! Pizza. And now he’s here at my place and we, you know… again… And that’s all there is to tell.”
“Wait, let me get this straight. You got it twice in less than twenty four hours?”
Kurt bites on his bottom lip, trying to contain his excitement because it has been a looong time since that last happened to him. “Yes!” he says again, but then Blaine stirs once more and Kurt covers his mouth with his hand, turning away from Blaine, otherwise the sleepy, rumpled look on Blaine’s face might magnetically attract Kurt across the floor and who knows what Rachel would hear then. “But that’s what’s happening.” Kurt pauses for a second, in which Rachel just giggles excitedly down the line, and then Kurt remembers that it was Rachel who called him and so far he doesn’t know why. “So, apart from filling you in on my sex life-”
“-Love life,” Rachel corrects him. “I can hear the affection in your voice, Kurt. You can’t fool me. But please, keep going.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles. “What do you want, anyway? I can’t talk too long.”
“Oh,” Rachel says, and it’s as if she remembers, too, that she initiated the call. “I got you another audition. Next week. I’m on break at rehearsal right now-”
“-Wait, what time is it?”
“Nearly five. Why?”
“Wow. Never mind. Rachel, you’re amazing. What’s it for?”
“A new play starting next year. I’ll fill you in later, don’t worry, go back to Blaine. Don’t keep the guy waiting. And,” she continues. “If he’s a keeper, I demand to meet him before you get anything set in stone.”
Kurt is about to laugh and retort something equally as cheeky, but Rachel just yells a loud “Have fun, Kurt!” into the speaker in a flirty voice before she ends the call and Kurt is left listening to the dial tone. He cancels out of the call on his cell and leaves it on the counter in the kitchen, turning around so he can look at Blaine. Is he a keeper? he wonders silently, watching as Blaine sits up and locks his unfocused eyes on Kurt. He smiles and beckons him over with a wave of his hand and Kurt just looks down to his bare chest, smiling bashfully. Kurt does as asked and begins to walk back to Blaine, and as he sits down beside him, allowing himself to fall into place beside him, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could be.
---------
Part III
Author: littlemrstom
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult Content
Word Count: 23, 500~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot. I especially do not own Glee. Sad times.
Summary: Kurt is an out of work performer in New York who serves in a coffee shop to make the rent. Blaine is a successful businessman, unfulfilled in his career because he followed his father’s dreams instead of his own. This is their story.
Author Notes: This was written for the klaine_endgame fest and I had an absolute blast writing it. Huge, huge thanks go to my beta, spookykat, without whom this would be dramatically incorrect and littered with grammatical errors left, right and centre <3 and the title was borrowed from Landon Pigg's song of the same name.
Part I
Blaine walks into Starbucks the next morning at eight o’clock on the dot feeling oddly chipper and he easily makes his way to the counter, nodding at a slightly greying man in a pinstripe suit that he recognizes from a past business deal. His own suit is suffocating, stuck to his skin and itchy, but not even Blaine can get out of wearing one, no matter how important and all-mighty he feels when wearing it; according to his father, if you’re a man in business, you have to dress like one. Blaine groans and tugs at the opened top button of his shirt, loosening it around his neck as he steps up to the counter. He’s still looking down when a voice in front of him speaks abruptly.
“Good morning, what can I get you, Sir?”
Blaine looks up and blinks at the unfamiliar voice. A blonde girl is standing behind the register, smiling at him far too widely to say it’s this early in the morning. He can’t help but wonder where Kurt is (is he not working today?) but he puts a smile on his lips anyway, and opens his mouth to speak when-
“I’ll take over from here, Britt!” another voice says, and this time it’s the one that Blaine recognizes. He can’t help the way the polite smile on his face turns into a wider, genuine one when Kurt walks over and hip-bumps the blonde girl out of his way. She huffs playfully and taps Kurt on the arm in what seems like retaliation, but she wanders off anyway. “Um, hi,” Kurt then says, breathing hard to recuperate the breath he lost in his skip to the register.
“Good morning, Kurt,” Blaine returns, and he can’t tell if he’s imagining the way Kurt’s cheeks turn slightly pink at the sound of his name. It makes Blaine feel oddly powerful.
Kurt rights himself, straightens his green apron. “Medium drip?”
“You know my coffee order?” Blaine asks, though it comes out more like a statement. He watches Kurt as he moves around fluidly behind the counter, repeating the motions he must make hundreds of times a day. He seems a little less animated than usual, like something is heavy is weighing on his shoulders and he’s trying to hide it. Blaine tries to look without looking like he’s looking, though when Kurt lifts his chin slightly, he knows he’s caught.
“Of course I do,” Kurt answers after a moment, setting the machine running. “I’ve worked in this coffee shop for a little over a year now. I’m pretty good at remembering peoples’ orders. Yours is pretty simple though, nothing fancy like what half the people who come in here order. Half-fat, non-fat, triple shot, vanilla-no wait, make it caramel, can I get extra foam on that?”
Blaine chuckles, despite his attempt to hold it in. It’s like Kurt’s mouth never stops moving. And God, Blaine shouldn’t have thought that because now his mind is conjuring up images of Kurt and his mouth that are far too inappropriate to be thought whilst talking to the subject of said images.
“At least you seem to like your job?” Blaine offers, rubbing a hand over his brow to compose himself as he reaches into his pocket with his other for his wallet, much like he’d done the morning before and the morning before that. Kurt’s shoulders drop a little more.
“You could say so,” he says absently. The machine continues to belt its regular churning sound as his coffee is slowly made under Kurt’s programmed instruction. “I take it by that statement you don’t like yours.”
Blaine pauses for a moment, before he decides on, “You could say so.”
“Very witty, Blaine,” Kurt says, pressing buttons on the machine and placing a lid on Blaine’s coffee cup. “One seventy please.”
“What, not even a hint at a freebie this morning? I feel cheated.” Blaine grins at Kurt as he holds out two dollar bills.
“Hey now.” Kurt lifts an eyebrow. “That was a onetime thing because you needed a pick-me-up. Don’t try to sweet talk me into more, or else I’ll charge you double. Do you want the change today?”
“Nah, keep it.” Blaine accepts his coffee when Kurt hands it to him, and even though he knows that he’s supposed to leave now, he has to physically force his feet to move. The chime on the door rings, which means someone else will want Kurt’s attention and he can’t just stand there, blocking the way, for no reason. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday?” he asks, regretting saying the words as soon as they’re out there because the hopefulness attached to them is so blatant.
Kurt smiles at him, a little wearily, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “You know it.”
With that, Blaine turns and leaves the store, coffee in hand. He has to stop himself from waving to Kurt as he catches his eye through the shop window when he turns right out of the door, and instead chooses to watch his feet as he walks, keeping his eyes downcast on the floor. He has a half day at work today, because he’s booked the afternoon off to go home and work on his music before going out with Wes again. He knows he’s probably taking advantage of his liberties, but hey, he’s entitled. And fuck if he doesn’t need to get a certain barista out of his head.
---
Blaine’s plan to get Kurt out of his head doesn’t really work. He spends the afternoon in his apartment, taking solace in the six strings of his favourite guitar and ivory keys, before changing and crossing town to meet Wes. And as soon as they enter Liquid, Blaine’s jaw drops to the floor and he stalls in his step.
“Blaine?” Wes asks worriedly, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. “Blaine, man, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wes pats him on the back, hard, and he coughs, straightening up and pulling on the bottom of his check over-shirt. Kurt is standing by the bar, sipping away at something colourful and he looks-fuck, he looks, well, incredibly hot. He’s wearing skin-tight white jeans that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and a fitted black v-necked t-shirt that dips just enough so that Blaine can see the beginnings of the definition of his chest, even from this distance. He swallows thickly and follows Wes through the club until they’re standing at the opposite end of the bar to Kurt.
“What the hell was that, man?” Wes asks him as he orders them two beers. He slides one to Blaine across the bar top, slicking freezing condensation across the wooden top as he does so, and Blaine catches it easily in his palm.
“Nothing, I just… saw someone, is all,” he responds vaguely, taking a long chug of his beer; if he’s going to talk to Kurt about something other than coffee, he’s going to need a lot of dutch courage.
“Not one of your past, er, encounters?” Wes elbows him in the side playfully, and Blaine nearly chokes on his beer.
“No,” he says quickly. “Definitely no.”
“I see. Gonna go talk to him?”
Blaine’s eyes dart over to where Kurt is still stood; his foot is tapping and his hair (which he notices is a little bigger than usual, quiffed a little higher) is bouncing with the slight movement. “Maybe,” he says, though he knows he will, whether he wants to or not because he’d be an idiot to turn down an opportunity like this. It’s like Kurt has put himself on a plate and delivered himself right to Blaine’s front door. Sort of.
Blaine shudders as he knocks back the rest of his beer, probably too quickly, and it flows, bitter and cold, down his throat. He smacks the bar to get the bartender’s attention and orders himself another, despite the fact that Wes is only halfway through his first.
“I’m just gonna-” he starts, nodding in Kurt’s general direction, and Wes just smirks at him, pushing him away.
Blaine nearly falls onto Kurt when he reaches him, though he doesn’t mean to. He stumbles and just manages to catch himself on the railing, and Kurt turns his head and spots Blaine before Blaine is ready to be spotted. He straightens up and places his beer (that miraculously didn’t go all over his shoes) on the top of the bar, smiling awkwardly.
“Sorry, I don’t serve outside my work hours,” Kurt says lowly, recognition dawning behind his eyes, and he smiles back at Blaine, turning his body towards him.
“What?” Blaine still can’t get over how Kurt looks. Sure, he’d thought he was cute before, with his dark green apron and loose white shirt that made up his uniform and that little embarrassed smile Blaine knew to grace his features when he knew he’d said too much, but this-Blaine thinks a few wires might have disconnected somewhere in his brain.
“Nevermind,” Kurt says, shaking his head slightly. He gives Blaine a sideways glance, and Blaine suddenly wishes he’d had another beer or two or three before daring to come over because this Kurt-the one in sinful clothing and having drunk something presumably very alcoholic-is completely different to the somewhat dorky barista that served him his morning medium drip earlier in the day. “You look different out of your suit.”
Blaine glances down at his body, hoping that ‘different’ translates as ‘good’, because he’s not sure if it does. He doesn’t ask for clarification. “Um, so do you,” he replies, and he can’t stop himself from looking at Kurt’s body again. He can literally see the junctures of where his torso meets his thighs, the slight ripple of muscle across his abdomen, the swells of bicep just visible where his sleeves end. “Very, er, very different.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Kurt takes a step nearer to him, and Blaine can feel himself tensing up, so he takes a swig of his beer and a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. It sort of works. From this vantage point, he can see the drink in Kurt’s hand (which is nearly empty) looks like a cosmopolitan. “I hope it’s not,” Kurt finishes, and they way he bats his eyelids at Blaine is enough to have him swallowing and thinking quickly of what to say in reply to that.
“Definitely not a bad thing,” Blaine can’t help but say, though when Kurt’s smile grows and he inches even closer to him down the bar, he doesn’t regret it at all. “Want a refill?” he asks, nodding towards Kurt’s almost finished drink, finding that the look on Kurt’s face is reinstating some sense into him, for which he is more than thankful.
“So I’m getting a free drink now?” Kurt smirks.
“Touché,” Blaine returns, grinning now. “A cosmo, right?” Kurt nods and Blaine turns to the bar, ordering a cosmo for Kurt and another beer for himself. He nods at Wes, still stood at the other end of the bar, and Wes just gives him a questioning look that Blaine pretends he didn’t see.
Turning back, Blaine sees that Kurt has placed his now-empty glass behind him and is looking at Blaine with slightly narrowed eyes, his lips twisted together at the corner. He looks positively impish and Blaine can’t quite make the link between the barista he (thinks he) knows and the man currently stood in front of him. Kurt accepts the drink that Blaine holds out to him and takes a sip through the pink straw that’s resting in it, before placing it back on the bar and looking pointedly at Blaine.
“What?” Blaine asks cautiously. He watches Kurt over the bottle he tips to his lips, trying to figure out what exactly the hidden smirk on his face is supposed to mean.
“Are you going to ask me to dance then or am I going to have to ask you?” Kurt says, and Blaine lets out the biggest sigh ever that Kurt made the first move because if he hadn’t, Blaine’s not sure he would have been able to muster up the balls to do it and he really, really wants to dance with Kurt.
Dismissing his beer, Blaine steps forward away from Kurt and holds out his hand and clears his throat in mock-gentlemanly graciousness. “May I have this dance?” he asks as smoothly as he can manage with his stomach flipping. He tells himself it’s just the three bottles of beer he’s consumed sloshing about and does his best to ignore it.
“Yes, you may,” Kurt grins, accepting Blaine’s hand, and then Blaine is tugging on his arm and they’re spinning into the crowd of people, being instantly thrust against each other and it’s then that Blaine feels the heat emanating from Kurt’s body. It, along with the general humidity of the club, wraps around him and pushes them together and after a moment, he dares to place his hands low on Kurt’s hips, pleased when Kurt smiles and rests his forearms on his shoulders in return.
In his lust and alcohol-induced haze, as Blaine sways against Kurt in time to the bass pounding out of the speakers, he idly thinks back to the morning, when he’d strolled into Starbucks and spotted Kurt. He’d never imagined meeting Kurt in a club, let alone a club like Liquid; Blaine had never even known for sure that Kurt was gay (although his perfectly styled hair and flawless complexion had definitely put ideas into his head). Most of all, Blaine never imagined dancing like this with Kurt, and, hey, is he… grinding?
Blaine also wonders how many cosmos Kurt had to drink before he arrived, but he doesn’t really have time to dwell on the thought as he’s jerked back to reality by Kurt’s eyes flashing down to his lips; by Kurt’s hands on the back of his neck, his palms sticky and warm and all over and he’s being pulled forward and he doesn’t try to stop Kurt as he is drawn wonderfully close to his face until their mouths are touching.
Kurt tastes like cranberries and vodka all over his lips, especially when he darts his tongue out to outline the edges of Blaine’s mouth and Blaine is kind of mentally everywhere, trying to process when exactly they switched from dancing to grinding to kissing. It’s all a little hazy and lost in the literal fog surrounding his head, but Blaine isn’t going to complain, especially when Kurt moves so that one of Blaine’s legs are resting between his and he begins to move his groin slowly against him.
Kurt blows fruity breaths directly into Blaine’s ear when he tips his head to disconnect their lips, and his hands slide up into Blaine’s hair, tugging on the loose curls at the nape of his neck. “Do you want to get out of here?” Kurt whispers, and Blaine barely catches it over the obscenely loud noise of the music, but he does, thank god he does, and he nods frantically, tightening the grip he has on Kurt’s hips until he’s able to begin guiding them out of the sea of people they’re almost drowning in.
---
After a brief, somewhat slurred (on both their behalves) conversation they decide to stumble back to Blaine’s apartment because it’s closer, or at least that’s the reasoning they come up with. Blaine comes across Wes, hovering on the outskirts of the dance floor as they’re leaving the club and all he has to do is clap him on the back for him to get the message.
“Go get it, Blaine!” he shouts in his ear as he walks past, and Blaine just kicks a foot out behind him, getting Wes right in the leg in response.
The night air outside the club is refreshing as Blaine drinks it in through his nostrils, his arms wrapped around Kurt’s waist, holding him close, just in case he decides to run off. Blaine doesn’t think he will, at least not with the way he’s clinging back and reaching up to attach his lips to his jaw every five seconds, but still, he doesn’t want to take the chance.
It’s nearing one a.m. when they fall into the elevator to get up to Blaine’s apartment, Blaine reaching to press the button numbered ‘11’ and accidentally catching the ones numbered ‘5’ and ‘8’ as he does so. Not that he particularly notices, because as soon as the large metal doors shut, enclosing them in the small space, Kurt is stepping forward and latching onto Blaine with his fingers and bringing their mouths together again. Kurt still tastes like cranberries, only it’s not quite as strong now because he tastes like the beer Blaine has been drinking, and Blaine also thinks he can sort of taste what he guesses must just be Kurt underneath all the alcohol.
The elevator pings when it comes to a halt on the fifth floor, and Kurt groans as he goes to pull away.
“Not yet,” Blaine says, and tugs a confused Kurt back to him, his chest warm against Blaine’s through their damp-with-perspiration shirts. He jerkily rotates them until Blaine is the one pressing Kurt into the side of the elevator and Kurt lets out a long breath, pulling Blaine’s head down again until they’re kissing once more and damn if Kurt isn’t a good kisser, Blaine thinks, but then the elevator is dinging again and they’ve suddenly reached the eleventh floor. Blaine doesn’t remember them reaching the eighth, but he dismisses the thought as Kurt pulls him out of the elevator car and begins walking them down the hall, even though he doesn’t know which door he wants.
Blaine fumbles with his keys for a good minute before he finds the one he needs and lets them into his apartment. It’s kind of messy and way too stuffy, though Kurt doesn’t seem to notice either of those things, especially not if the way he glances around himself in complete awe is anything to go by.
“Nice place,” he says appreciatively, hands clawing at Blaine’s shirt as soon as Blaine has shut and locked the door behind them. His fingers play with the first fastened button of Blaine’s shirt and Blaine watches with fascinated eyes as he opens it and moves onto the next one.
“Thanks,” Blaine says, somehow remembering his manners. He feels more comfortable now, trapped in the safety of his own lodgings, and Kurt is obviously making himself at home because he kicks off his shoes, losing a couple of inches and bringing himself closer to Blaine’s level. Kurt pops another of his buttons and soon his shirt is completely open and Kurt’s fingertips are instantly tracing over the skin of his chest, his fingers trailing through the hair he finds there and sending shivers through Blaine’s body. “Bedroom?” he asks, voice shaking in what he’s taking to be anticipation, and Kurt replies with a rapid “yes”, so he directs them to the room on the left.
As soon as Kurt enters the bedroom he throws himself onto the bed, looking around in awe once more. Blaine allows himself a moment to savour the way Kurt looks on his bed, slightly dishevelled with his shirt collar wonky around his neck and the hem bunched a bit at the base. He can clearly see the outline of Kurt’s groin, prominent inside his should-be-illegally-tight jeans, and he has to place a hand on his doorframe to keep himself standing; the cool night air has sobered him up slightly, but not enough to rid him of all the effects.
“What are you waiting for?” Kurt’s voice snaps Blaine out of his trance, and he looks up and-whoa, when did Kurt take off his shirt? It seems he’s been staring for longer than he remembers, because Kurt has lost his shirt and the buttons on his jeans are unfastened, allowing Blaine to see the triangle of hair that leads down to-oh god.
Blaine’s really doing this. The thought suddenly hits him as he strides across to the bed, yanking his own shirt off over his arms and dropping it to the floor as he goes. Kurt grins when Blaine moves to lean over him, but a hand against his chest stops him and just when Blaine begins to wonder if Kurt has changed his mind, he finds himself on his back, arms sprawled above his head. Kurt grins down at him deviously, his eyes dark and hooded as he traces patterns on Blaine’s chest, which is heaving up and down quickly, and Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat when Kurt’s fingers find his jeans and pull them down until they’re resting in the junctures of his knees.
“God, you look so good like this,” Kurt breathes as he repeats his last action with Blaine’s boxers until he’s taking Blaine’s hardness between his palms and Blaine has to remind himself to breathe (in and out, in and out) because those words coming out of Kurt’s mouth-Kurt, the cute little barista who has served him his medium drip so politely the past three mornings-should not be allowed to sound so filthy.
The noise Kurt makes when he leans down and takes the head of Blaine’s cock into his mouth also should not be allowed to sound so filthy, but it does and Blaine is well aware of that fact as the sound forces even more blood to rush south of his brain, rendering him almost speechless. Kurt settles himself between Blaine’s legs, positioned so that he has some leeway to be able to rut against the side of Blaine’s bed, and Blaine’s hands find his hair, pulling it out of its well-styled quiff.
He tries not to tug, he really does, but Blaine is a tugger (a habit for which he personally blames Jeremiah and his wavy shoulder length hair), but Kurt doesn’t seem to mind, humming against Blaine’s length as he slides the tip of his tongue over the slit of Blaine’s dick.
“Kurt, ugh, are you sure we should-” Blaine lets out a short pant as Kurt’s left hand comes up to cup his balls, squeezing just so, and he has to close his eyes to be able to focus enough to form complete words. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rational Blaine has made an appearance, and Blaine knows in the morning he’ll be glad for it, just to keep his conscience clear because Blaine knows Kurt more than he’s ever known any of the other people he’s slept with, and as much as it mystifies him, Blaine likes Kurt, too, but right now Infatuated Blaine kind of wants to kick Rational Blaine in the shin until he goes down because he’s making Kurt pull off his cock where he’d been suckling him just right and then Kurt is looking up at him dazedly with his eyebrows raised.
“Blaine,” Kurt says pointedly, his hands remaining on and around Blaine’s throbbing member. His hands are soft, Blaine can’t help but notice, soft and gentle and they feel so good on him. “I just had your cock in my mouth. I think I’m sure about this. Are you sure?”
Blaine doesn’t hear the question. Kurt just said the word cock. Ignoring the fact that he just had it between his lips (even though Blaine can’t easily forget that teensy detail when Kurt lowers his head and begins kissing his abdomen instead, so close to him yet at the same time so far away), he can’t get over Kurt saying the word because saying it seems so much dirtier than the action itself.
He manages to force out the words “I’m sure”, or at least he’s pretty certain he does because Kurt is suddenly smiling and leaning down a second time to take him back in, and pleasure shoots through Blaine’s entire person again as Kurt hollows his cheeks and sucks until Blaine is sure he feels the back of his throat. His head goes light at that, at Kurt-innocent, modest barista Kurt-deepthroating him perfectly without his eyes so much as watering.
In between every breath that Kurt takes, Blaine wishes that Kurt would do this to him all night. Who cares about screwing when Kurt’s mouth feels like silk around him and his hands glide across his skin like another piece of the same fabric, but then Blaine registers the thought that just ran through his brain and suddenly he’s tugging on Kurt’s hair harder, pulling him up and away and then Kurt’s face is before his, flushed and sweaty and smiling broadly. Who cares about screwing? Blaine does, that’s who.
And from the look on Kurt’s face as he finally disregards Blaine’s jeans and underwear completely, he does, too.
It’s as if he can read Blaine’s mind as he disposes of his own pants, struggling slightly to pull the tight denim off because of his damp legs. He tosses them carelessly to the floor, his underwear following, and then he crawls up the bed until he’s in Blaine’s lap, their clammy skin coming into contact. Kurt’s thighs lock around Blaine’s waist and his arms flop over his shoulders as their mouths meet once more, sloppy and frantic, and Blaine groans into the kiss, taking Kurt’s face between his hands and tilting his chin up in order to deepen the kiss.
Kurt replies to Blaine’s groan with a pleased hum, his hips rocking over Blaine’s and Blaine lets out a small gasp when he feels his cock slip into the hot crease of Kurt’s ass. Kurt just grins against his cheek and rolls his hips again as if to accentuate the placements of their bodies. “What are you waiting for, Blaine?” Kurt says against his ear, lapping at the shell and biting gently at the lobe. Kurt has returned the favour of tangling his hands into Blaine’s curly hair and Blaine shivers as Kurt’s breath passes across his ear and cheek.
Blaine knows what those words mean. He especially knows what they mean when placed with the expression that currently resides on Kurt’s face; flushed, impatient, excited. Not wanting to make him wait any longer than absolutely necessary, he carefully untangles himself from Kurt and pushes at his shoulders until he’s lain out on his bed. He has to pause in his step where he’s reaching into his bedside table for lube and condoms to admire the curves of Kurt’s body as he settles against his pillows, his eyes shut in a semblance of patience Blaine can tell is fake because his cock is twitching briefly against his flat stomach.
He blinks, grabbing what he needs out of the drawer before he slams it shut and Kurt’s eyes open.
“About time,” Kurt says, grinning, and his arms encircle Blaine’s shoulders again when he moves slowly to position himself over him. He captures Blaine’s lips in his and pushes his hips up to meet Blaine’s, groaning loudly into his mouth at the beautiful friction he gains. “Come on, Mr Medium Drip,” Kurt croons, and Blaine moans, snatching up the lube from where it’s fallen to his side.
He wastes no time after that, pulling Kurt’s knees up to give him more space and he preps him as quickly as he dares. Behind the alcohol flooding his brain, he’s careful not to hurt Kurt, listening to the noises he makes (and storing them in the hidden nooks of his brain for future reference). He slides in one finger, then two, then three until Kurt is cursing at him and telling him to get the fuck on with it.
Not one to disappoint, Blaine fumbles with a condom, eventually managing to roll it on, and then he’s sliding into Kurt and his head is fucking exploding. He knows already that he won’t last long, especially not if Kurt keeps making those little breathy noises every time Blaine pushes inside him, because the warning signs of his impending orgasm (curling toes, bubbling stomach, raging groin) are already there. He holds himself up over Kurt, the veins in his biceps straining (something which Kurt seems very interested in because he keeps running his fingers over them), and rocks his hips. He watches as Kurt puts a hand between them and grabs his cock, and Blaine takes that to mean he’s close, too, so he doesn’t feel quite so guilty when he comes much earlier than he’d have liked, but Kurt doesn’t complain; he cries out as he follows in Blaine’s footsteps and consequently squeezes almost painfully tightly around Blaine’s cock, making Blaine whimper from the oversensitivity at the head.
“Oh, shit,” he moans when Kurt finally relaxes enough for him to pull out, and then he falls to the bed beside Kurt, completely boneless. He’s not really sure what to do now; he has plenty of practice with one night stands, but he’s not sure if this is one of those or not. Sure, Kurt’s not said anything to indicate differently, but then, tonight hasn’t exactly been about talking. Still, Blaine hopes that their interactions over coffee haven’t been for nothing.
His brain pulses inside his skull, as if telling him to stop overanalysing everything and to just enjoy having Kurt in such close proximity, completely spent and clinging to him, no less. And he does. He’s tempted to ask if Kurt wants to go clean up, but when he turns his head to the side to try and get the words out, he sees that Kurt is already blinking sleepily, his arms curling around Blaine’s middle, and who is Blaine to disturb him?
So he copies Kurt by wiggling an arm behind his head and closing his eyes. He feels Kurt’s head lift and place itself on his chest, moving closer, and Blaine can’t help but smile as he drifts off, the confusion he feels leaving him momentarily.
He can deal with that in the morning.
---------
When Kurt sits up and opens his eyes the next morning, it’s the headache that hits him first. Light pours in through the open blinds and streams right into this eyes, forcing him to shut them and flop back onto the bed again. He expects to land on soft mattress, but instead his back meets bony shoulder and he groans, the sound being echoed from somewhere beneath a pile of pillows.
“Um,” he says, reaching forward to pluck a pillow off the body next to him. Beneath it he sees Blaine, rumpled with sleep and very, very naked, and the previous night comes crashing back to him. The alcohol. The dancing. The sex.
God, the sex.
Kurt can feel it when he moves, burning in the way only an incredible tumble in the sheets can make it burn. When he pauses, he can feel his heart burn a little, too, but he brushes it off and ignores it, choosing instead to shuffle back down the bed and tuck himself under Blaine’s arm again, placed as if it had been wrapped around his shoulders.
He doesn’t have time to fall back to sleep though, because soon Blaine is stirring, his muscles contracting underneath Kurt’s body and Kurt turns towards him as he opens his bleary eyes and spots him.
“Good morning,” Kurt says quietly, because if Blaine’s head feels anything like his own, he thinks they’re going have to speak in whispers for the better part of the morning.
Blaine pauses, as if piecing together last night, similar to what Kurt had done only moments before, but then he gives a small smile like he remembers. “Mm, morning,” he replies, and he makes to move until he realises that Kurt is in the way and alternatively settles back down. He doesn’t say anything after that, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling, and Kurt can’t really blame him because he doesn’t know what else to say, either. This is usually the time where the guest leaves, but Kurt doesn’t want to, and Blaine isn’t giving off vibes that say he’s unwelcome, so he stays put in Blaine’s bed, stays resting on Blaine’s chest and allows the heat radiating off of him to envelope them whole.
He stays there for a while; after a few minutes Blaine’s fingers begin to absentmindedly trace patterns against his right collarbone. Kurt would stay there for days if he could, but he sort of needs to use the bathroom and-yeah, he needs to shower. He grimaces as he sits up a second time, feeling the after effects of last night down below and Blaine turns his head towards him at the movement, brows furrowed in confusion.
Kurt smiles at him gently and pulls the blankets up to cover himself, even if Blaine has already seen every part of him. He blushes gently at the thought. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asks, and he hears Blaine let out a little sigh that he thinks is of relief, but he can’t be sure.
“Sure,” Blaine replies. “It’s just through there.” He points to the door leading off from his bedroom (which, when Kurt actually looks around, is ridiculously clean) and Kurt nods, feeling daring as he leans down to give Blaine a short kiss before standing up. He pulls on yesterday’s underwear that he finds on the floor and disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against the back of it, letting out a long breath once he’s hidden.
He quickly relieves himself, figures out how to work the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash over his skin as he thinks back to the (extremely handsome) man in the next room and how he ended up here. He doesn’t remember all of it, only the important parts, and even under the heat of the water he shivers as he washes himself down, remembering the way Blaine had put his fingers (and other parts of himself) inside of him and made him feel amazing. He remembers feeling amazing from almost the very moment Blaine entered the bar because Blaine had spotted him immediately and there had been no denying the way his eyes had zeroed in on him and fixed themselves there.
Once Kurt feels suitably clean, he flicks the shower knob to the off position and climbs out, only then realising that he hasn’t brought his clothes into the bathroom with him (he was tired, okay?). He treads carefully over the tiled floor and opens what he guesses is the linen closet, pulling out a towel. He pats himself down, turning around and spotting what appears to be a clean t-shirt hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Not knowing what else to do, he pulls it on, followed by his underwear, and then leaves the towel folded over the side of the shower.
He takes a deep breath, wondering if Blaine will still be in bed when he goes back into the bedroom and if he is, is Kurt supposed to just leave now? Luckily, Kurt discovers when he opens the door that Blaine isn’t still in bed and he steps into Blaine’s room again. Blaine has risen and dressed himself in clean clothes (dark wash, surprisingly tight jeans and a casual t-shirt), and his eyes widen when they land on Kurt as soon as he reappears.
Kurt can’t help the blush that tinges his cheeks. He picks at the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt as he finds and pulls on his jeans from yesterday. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your shirt, I didn’t take mine in with me. I can swap it back now if you like, I don’t mind-”
“It looks good on you. Leave it on,” Blaine says, his voice stuttering slightly, but Kurt finds it somewhat adorable how he’s trying to act so sure of himself when it’s clear he’s just as confused as Kurt is. “Sorry about earlier,” he continues, and Kurt blinks at him owlishly. “I’m not the most coherent person first thing in the morning.”
Kurt smiles and chuckles, looking briefly down at his chest and the material covering it. “Don’t worry about it. You’re awake now though, right?”
Blaine nods, and Kurt watches as he rearranges his pillows into a semblance of how they should be. He folds back the sheets, hiding the damp patches they both see in favour of ignoring them. Kurt folds his hands together in his lap and tries to think of what to say, which is strange for him, because usually the problem he has around Blaine is shutting the hell up.
Blaine beats him to it though, and turns to him with slightly pink cheeks as he says, “So, do you want to go get coffee or something? Maybe talk?”
Kurt can’t help but grin at the offer; of course Blaine would choose to socialize over coffee, but then his lips curl downwards a little as he tries to phrase himself correctly for what he wants to say. “Blaine. I work with coffee. Can’t say as I drink it much.” He laughs easily, trying to alleviate the redness that intensifies over Blaine’s cheeks at Kurt’s words, and Kurt just wants to walk over and kiss the flush away, though he thinks that might be pushing the (undetermined) boundaries a little.
“Tea?” Blaine offers alternatively.
“Work with that, too.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Ditto.”
“Um. A pastry?”
“Blaine.” Kurt doesn’t want to sound like he’s turning him down, because he is definitely not, so he walks over to him and places a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently (secretly pleased with what he feels, remembering at the same time what they felt like surrounding him last night) and looking anywhere but at his lips.
Blaine laughs then, too, awkwardly, and runs a palm over his forehead as he thinks of another suggestion. “Man, what don’t you work with? Pizza?” he says jokingly, but Kurt’s stomach gives a happy little flip at the mention of solid, unhealthy food and, as if on cue, it rumbles loudly. He laughs embarrassedly.
“You know, I could actually go for pizza,” Kurt says seriously, squeezing Blaine’s arm a bit tighter. “What do you say? I’m sure somewhere will be open at…” He glances at his watch. “Eleven a.m. on a Saturday morning. Let’s go!”
---
This is how Kurt finds himself seated in a deserted pizzeria on a backstreet he’s never so much as seen before, splitting a large, greasy pepperoni pizza with Blaine, who has still somehow managed to get his hands on coffee, even in a grotty place like this.
“It’s not my usual, nor is it really any good, but it is caffeine,” he had said, nearly draining the entire cupful in one and grimacing as he’d placed it back down in front of him.
“You know, I’ve lived in New York my entire life and I’ve always known that you could supposedly get pizza at any time of day, but I have never ever actually tried it,” Blaine says a few minutes later when their pizza is over half eaten and their fingertips are similarly sticky, and Kurt slips his fore and middle fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. He watches as Blaine’s eyes follow his fingers, and Kurt can’t help but feel a little naughty as he pulls them out and he helps himself to another slice.
“I’ve never done it either,” Kurt replies, now watching as Blaine diverts his gaze. “But I’ve not been here as long as you.”
“How long have you lived in New York?” Blaine looks at Kurt curiously, wiping his hands on a napkin instead of copying Kurt’s last (somewhat lewd) action.
“About five years. I moved here for college.” Kurt takes a bite and pauses speaking as he chews. “The plan was to get a job in my major afterwards, but I’m still sadly waiting on that part of the deal.”
“What was your major?”
“Musical theatre. I went to Tisch, you know?” Kurt swallows, just something to take his mind off the tug of failure he feels in the gut of his stomach. “It’s okay though, I guess,” he lies, and he can tell from the look in Blaine’s eye that he’s not very believable; maybe something about the lack of conviction he says the words with. “At least I have a job, even if it’s not what I dreamt of.”
Blaine smiles at him as he sits back in his chair, the pizza now completely demolished. “Well, if you ever fancy changing fields, I can get you a job at my firm,” he says, only half joking. “Well, my father’s firm. May as well be mine for all the work he puts in, though.”
“I think you’ve mentioned that before, Mr Hotshot Business Man. I’ll think I’ll stick to Starbucks, though. I wouldn’t be able to serve you your Medium Drip if I worked for you, would I?” At that, they look at each other demurely and it’s at that moment that Kurt knows this thing between them is felt by Blaine, too. “I had never seen you in the shop until this week, though,” Kurt continues, breaking the silence that has fallen over them at the realisation.
Blaine opens his mouth to respond, his lips lifting up amusedly at the corners. “I-”, he starts, but it’s then that the young woman who served them their food comes over to clear the table. She leaves the bill carelessly behind and saunters away again, her headphones plugged unprofessionally in her ears. Kurt moves to pull out his wallet, but Blaine stops him with a warm hand on his. “I’ve got this,” Blaine says, pulling out a few dollars and leaving them on the table. He pulls Kurt up with the hand still laid over his, and then they leave and Kurt doesn’t know what to say again. Is this how it’s going to be? Stilted conversation until the awkwardness blows over?
“So are you any good?” Blaine says as they turn the corner and begin walking aimlessly down the street. “I mean, if you have a degree in musical theatre, I presume you are.”
“What?” Kurt asks before the words have time to register and order themselves in his brain. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. I always thought I was, but every time you get told ‘no’ at an audition, you start to re-evaluate, you know?”
“I can see how that could affect a person.” Blaine looks thoughtful as Kurt watches him out the corner of his eye, and he can’t help but notice how close to each other they’re walking. Their pinkies brush and Kurt feels a tremor run through his entire body, from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. Blaine turns quiet after that, but this silence… it’s not awkward, Kurt notices. They’re just two people enjoying each other’s company, until Kurt looks up and sees Blaine watching him they way he’s been trying to not watch Blaine all morning.
Kurt bows his head to look as his feet, not used to this kind of attention. “Where are we headed?” he asks, hoping to distract Blaine’s attention from his face, but mostly it just makes Blaine stare at him harder, their eyes locking parallel to the pavestones beneath their feet.
Blaine just shrugs. “Haven’t a clue. Is there anywhere else you need to be? You don’t have to work, do you?”
Kurt shakes his head gently. “Nope. I’m all yours. If you want.” The words sort of escape his throat before he can stop them, but Blaine just smiles at him and he figures maybe it was alright to say them. “We could…” he starts, feeling surprisingly brave. “Um, I live just a couple blocks from here. We could go back to my place? I have emergency coffee?” he teases, and Blaine’s smile turns into a grin, which Kurt takes to be an answer in the affirmative, so he (even more bravely) grabs Blaine’s hand and pulls him down the correct streets to his apartment building.
---
“Kurt, why do you have one of my business cards on your bulletin board?” is the first thing Blaine says when they reach and enter Kurt’s apartment. They take the stairs up to the sixth floor because the elevator is broken and Kurt’s heart hammers harder in his chest with every new floor they reach.
Kurt blanches. “Um,” he says. “You dropped it on the counter the first morning we met.”
Blaine turns around from where he’s stood looking at the card and notices Kurt’s face. He steps up to him and leans against the wall, looking at Kurt fondly. “You kept it?”
“I might need furniture moving at some point?” Kurt offers after a short pause, and he’s just about to swiftly change the subject when Blaine swoops in and kisses him. The move knocks the breath out of Kurt a little and he reaches out a hand and grabs the doorframe to keep himself standing because he had not been expecting that. He knows that he and Blaine have been tiptoeing around the topic of last night all morning, neither of them really wanting to delve deeper and figure out what it really meant without the beer-goggles making everything sparkle, but he’d never expected Blaine to be so forward with him without the confidence his suit gives him or without any liquid courage in his system.
Not that Kurt is complaining; he’s not complaining at all, because as soon as Blaine’s lips fix on Kurt’s and fuse themselves there, Kurt lets go of the doorframe in favour of wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and anchoring himself there, allowing the kiss to deepen as Blaine’s tongue probes at his lips and pushes between them gently, just enough to let him get a taste of Kurt, who tastes like pepperoni and stale alcohol.
Blaine tastes similar, except the alcohol is covered up by the taste of coffee and Kurt doesn’t seem to mind coffee when he tastes it off Blaine’s tongue. He holds tighter around Blaine’s neck and moves closer to him until their chests are touching, and Kurt can feel his ribcage thudding against the beating of his heart in time with Blaine’s through the material of Blaine’s shirt that he’s still wearing. The thought passes through his mind that he left his own shirt on the floor of Blaine’s apartment, but when Blaine presses his hips closer to Kurt’s, close enough to feel-oh-everything, the thought flies straight from Kurt’s mind and he’s beginning to walk backwards towards where he knows the sofa is.
They crash onto the cushions that dip and groan beneath their joint weight, and Kurt works their bodies until Blaine is resting over him and their lips eventually part, the kiss ending, leaving them breathless and panting, lost for words.
Blaine sits back quickly, resting on his knees over Kurt, who now, when actually having to make eye contact with Blaine, is blushing heavily and placing a hand on his cheek to try and conceal that fact.”Wow, um, sorry,” Blaine stammers, though he makes no move to get off Kurt, which Kurt both likes and hates because he can feel the heat radiating off Blaine’s body and it’s making him feel all funny in his belly.
Kurt bites his bottom lip, reaching out his hand for Blaine’s until their fingers twine. “Don’t be,” he whispers, unable to get the words out with more of the assurance he wants to be behind them because he’s nervous about dancing over this line when he’s sober.
In response to Kurt’s words, Blaine’s face changes as he looks down at Kurt, their fingers tangling and untangling, only to tangle again in a different arrangement that shows just how flexible the two of them are as a pair. He breathes in, and Kurt watches the way his chest expands through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing, and then he leans down and kisses Kurt again, but this time it’s softer, sweeter, utterly toe-curling in the best possible way.
Kurt’s hands find their way around Blaine’s neck again until he’s flush against him, and Kurt doesn’t recall when the kiss turned into more, but it does; the slow stripping of clothes and the gentle sounds of their skin rubbing together, and afterwards they doze on Kurt’s sofa, wrapped together until the shrill ring of Kurt’s phone sounds throughout the apartment.
---
Kurt groans, his eyes blinking open sleepily. Something heavy and solid rests over his chest, and when he opens his eyes his vision lands on a head of messy dark curls and he remembers: Blaine. His chest flutters as he reaches his hand out, grappling with thin air until his fingers brush over his phone that apparently slid out of his jeans pocket when they were dumped on the floor. He sweeps his fingers over his cell, catching it between them on the upstroke and quickly shuts off the noise.
“Hello?” he whispers, not having checked the caller ID before answering.
“Hello? Kurt?” Rachel’s voice travels over the city, her tone matching Kurt’s hushed one. “Why are we whispering?”
Kurt smiles to himself, because he knows he’s going to have to tell Rachel everything. He shifts as smoothly as he can, trying to slip out from underneath Blaine without waking him, though it doesn’t work. Blaine moves slowly as he wakes, his arms coming to encircle Kurt and hold him back against his chest. Kurt’s smile grows as he pries Blaine’s arms off him gently. “Hi,” he says quietly to him, moving the receiver away from his mouth momentarily. “I’ll be back in a minute, I have to take this.” He leans down and gives Blaine a sweet kiss, simply because he feels like he can, though when Blaine tries to intensify it by slipping his tongue between Kurt’s lips to kiss him deeply and languidly, Kurt pulls back and taps him on the nose in reproach. “Be good. I’ll be back.” Kurt steps into his underwear, a strong sense of déjà-vu clouding over him, and then he wanders away into his kitchen where he leans against the counter so he is still able to see Blaine-who seems to have fallen straight back to sleep-over the breakfast bar that divides his living room and kitchen area.
“Kurt, are you still there? Who were you talking to?” Rachel is asking when Kurt replaces the phone to his ear, and he just smiles even harder down the line, despite the fact that Rachel can’t see him.
“I’m here,” he says, his voice still low but not quite in as soft of a tone as before. “And, um, I was talking to Blaine.” He pauses, waiting for what he knows will be Rachel’s response.
“Blaine?” Rachel takes a moment to try and place the name. When she can’t, she continues with, “Who’s Blaine? I’ve not heard of a Blaine before! Kurt Hummel, I think you have some explaining to do. And don’t just say he’s one of your one night stands. No one talks to a one night stand the way you spoke to Blaine.”
“Like you would know,” Kurt replies amusedly. “The only one night stand you planned on having ended up turning into your forthcoming marriage.” Rachel lets out a huff of laughter over the line, though she can’t deny the truth.
“Still waiting for an explanation here, Hummel,” she says, and Kurt can almost hear her foot tapping with impatience.
“I’m not quite sure what he is,” he says honestly. Rachel scoffs over the line disbelievingly. “Seriously, Rach.” He watches as Blaine rolls over, burying his face in the sofa cushion where Kurt’s head had just been, and he lowers his voice again before he continues. “I’ve known him about a week, he started coming to Starbucks. We flirted a bit, I guess, but I thought it was just playful banter at first, you know?”
“Hmm. Continue..”
“God, Rach, so nosey.”
“Correction: I’m interested, not nosey. Whenever there is what sounds like a semi-permanent change in Kurt Hummel’s love life, one must pay full attention,” she tells him firmly. “Now go on.”
Kurt chuckles quietly. “Well, we were both in Liquid on Friday night and he came over to me and we danced and then we kind of, sort of ended up at his apartment. I’ll let you figure out what went down there, but I stayed the night and then this morning we went and got pizza-”
“-Pizza?”
“Yes! Pizza. And now he’s here at my place and we, you know… again… And that’s all there is to tell.”
“Wait, let me get this straight. You got it twice in less than twenty four hours?”
Kurt bites on his bottom lip, trying to contain his excitement because it has been a looong time since that last happened to him. “Yes!” he says again, but then Blaine stirs once more and Kurt covers his mouth with his hand, turning away from Blaine, otherwise the sleepy, rumpled look on Blaine’s face might magnetically attract Kurt across the floor and who knows what Rachel would hear then. “But that’s what’s happening.” Kurt pauses for a second, in which Rachel just giggles excitedly down the line, and then Kurt remembers that it was Rachel who called him and so far he doesn’t know why. “So, apart from filling you in on my sex life-”
“-Love life,” Rachel corrects him. “I can hear the affection in your voice, Kurt. You can’t fool me. But please, keep going.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles. “What do you want, anyway? I can’t talk too long.”
“Oh,” Rachel says, and it’s as if she remembers, too, that she initiated the call. “I got you another audition. Next week. I’m on break at rehearsal right now-”
“-Wait, what time is it?”
“Nearly five. Why?”
“Wow. Never mind. Rachel, you’re amazing. What’s it for?”
“A new play starting next year. I’ll fill you in later, don’t worry, go back to Blaine. Don’t keep the guy waiting. And,” she continues. “If he’s a keeper, I demand to meet him before you get anything set in stone.”
Kurt is about to laugh and retort something equally as cheeky, but Rachel just yells a loud “Have fun, Kurt!” into the speaker in a flirty voice before she ends the call and Kurt is left listening to the dial tone. He cancels out of the call on his cell and leaves it on the counter in the kitchen, turning around so he can look at Blaine. Is he a keeper? he wonders silently, watching as Blaine sits up and locks his unfocused eyes on Kurt. He smiles and beckons him over with a wave of his hand and Kurt just looks down to his bare chest, smiling bashfully. Kurt does as asked and begins to walk back to Blaine, and as he sits down beside him, allowing himself to fall into place beside him, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could be.
---------
Part III