Santana had been unsure about the idea at first but had warmed to it after a few trial runs and had soon invested in a couple of spotlights that Puck drilled into the red walls either side of the corner which was then fitted for a stage. Collapsible wooden boards that were brought out and taken away every week.

There were the regulars, ones that had been here since the start or had just fallen in love with the situation and appeared again and again; Jake the Violinist, Laura the Ukulele player who had recently taken to playing with only 3 strings since her E string snapped and she lacked the funds to replace it; people still enjoyed her slot though since she had the charisma to work past the issue.

But now it was September, time for the newbies to arrive. The high school graduates hoping to make it in the Big Apple. That’s what Kurt expected as he waited for the arrival of the new guy, a fresh faced just out of high school hopeful.

“Who’s the guy then?” Kurt asked, sidling over to where Puck stood at the bar, wiping at the counter idly with a wet rag.

“I dunno, Santana dealt with it.”

“No clue at all?”

“Why? Wondering if he’s your type?” Kurt blushed furiously and shook his head quickly.

“No! Not that! I’m just curious, that’s all.” Puck just nodded with a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He hissed as more sniggers escaped Pucks lips, “Stop laughing!” He swatted at the large bicep just as the tell-tale ding-ding sounded through the shop and Puck looked over to the door.

“Well, you can see for yourself now.”

“Little help?” a voice squeaked from behind him and Kurt turned around to see the guy practically fall through the door as his guitar caught on one of the tables in the entryway.

Kurt jumped up and pushed the chairs out of the way so that the guy could catch himself. His bag crashed to the floor and Kurt picked it up without a second thought, he gasped at the weight of the rucksack but said nothing.

“Heh, thanks.” The guy smiled a dazzling cheeky yet charming smile that lit up his whole face.

He was short, not that short really, but Kurt had a few inches on him. His skin had an olive tint, already browning from the summer sun and wild curly hair not at all tamed as if he had literally rolled out of bed and come straight here.

“No problem, we should probably do something about the table placement soon.”

“I’m Blaine.” He held out his free hand and Kurt grasped it with his own, feeling the rough toughened skin against his. Blaine’s grip was firm yet supporting.

“Kurt.”

They locked gazes for a moment, time seemingly slowing down around them and Kurt felt like all the breath had been forced out of his lungs.

They stayed like that until someone coughed behind Blaine and they both realised they were still blocking the doorway and their hands were still locked together.

Blaine pulled his away laughing and mumbling a sorry behind him as he pushed into the red room where puck just pointed at the stage in the far corner.

“There, dude.”

Blaine thanked him and practically threw his guitar down on the decking. Kurt dropped the bag at the side with a thump and was about to help set up whatever Blaine needed but it appeared he was alright on his own. He had managed to get the guitar out of the case, over his shoulder and was perched on the small stool before Kurt had even looked up. All Kurt had to do was connect the microphone and Blaine took over.

“Hi, my name’s Blaine and I don’t have any introduction planned so…”

He strummed the guitar strings a couple of times and Kurt settled into a seat near the window as he began to play, a steady practiced tune. Blaine looked up for a second, his eyes sweeping through the little crowd, before he started to sing.

This time, I’ll be sailing
No more bailing boats for me
I’ll be out here on the sea
Just my confidence and me

The voice was nothing like Kurt’s heard in a really long time. Blaine’s singing voice was just as pleasant and calming as his speaking voice. Kurt couldn’t help but sit in one of the closest chairs although he knew he should be back to his job, and let his eyelids fall from time to time. A light smile curled his lips upwards.

And I’ll be awful sometimes
weakened to my knees
but I’ll learn to get by
on the little victories
This time, I’ll have no fear
I’ll be standing strong and tall
turn my back towards them all

As the song went on, Kurt became more and more relaxed. Blaine’s voice had this effect on people, as it seemed, because when he looked around, he could see just how calm the crowd was. And everybody listened to Blaine, which doesn’t happen often: people like to push the performers back as background music, and don’t pay attention to them. This time, everyone was turned towards the stage, towards Blaine.

And I’ll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
I’ll learn to get by
And I’ll learn to get by
On the little victories
And if the world decides to catch up with me
It’s a little victory.

Slowly, when they realized the song’s ended, the people started clapping, and Kurt joined in. He really enjoyed the song, just as much as Blaine’s voice. Blaine looked up and before he said “Thank you”, his eyes flickered to Kurt and he smiled. Kurt’s clapping stopped for a minute. He smiled back.

At that moment Santana appeared behind him, pulling him from the chair and telling him to get the fuck back to work. He worked slowly, collecting cups and cleaning tables all the while with Blaine’s singing in the background.

Half an hour later he was thanking the customers for their applause and the mic was turned off, people went back to their drinks and conversations and the place was back to its good old self.

There was a jar on the counter by the till labelled ‘for the entertainment’. It wasn’t much but the regular patrons normally dropped a couple of dollars in there before they left. There would also be a few quarters in there from customers who had listened while they waited for their cardboard cups to go, just a case of ‘keep the change’ and run.

Then, at the end of the time slot, whoever wasn’t busy (normally Kurt) would tip the money into a cellophane bag and hand it over to the performer as they packed up. It was purely a kind gesture that had developed over time seeing as any other venue wouldn’t give them squat for what they do.

Anyway, they always took it with a smile and a thank you (both to the staff and customers) and would be on their way.

Blaine, Kurt noticed from where he was wiping down the condiment counter, took the bag that Puck offered him, tipped the money onto the counter beside him. He then gathered the notes into a neat pile, folded them and bruised the change into the palm of his hand and; instead of tucking it into a wallet or pocket simply walked over to the till, where the entertainers jar had been replaced with the general tip jar and popped all the money into that.

Then he brushed off his palms on the worn material of his jeans, flashed a charming smile at Santana and headed back over to where his guitar was resting by the wall.

Santana flicked through the money with one finger, shocked by the discovery of what must have been close to $80 that Blaine had turned down.

Puck gestured to Kurt as he flicked off the spotlights and began on deconstructing the stage. Kurt took one end in his grip, the action meaning he was bent over right next to Blaine. He could almost feel the warmth of the other body near his and he almost dropped the decking multiple times before Puck just told him to get out of the way before he hurt himself. He smiled apologetically and chose instead to push the tables back over when the area was cleared. Blaine sank down into one of the chairs before reaching down to click his guitar case shut.

Without thinking, Kurt sat down opposite him and tried his best not to stare again.

“I not…” he stopped and coughed as his throat suddenly seemed impossibly dry. “Sorry, I noticed you didn’t take the tips.” Blaine just shrugged and lifted his guitar case to rest back against the wall.

“That’s not what I do this for.”

“Oh?”

“Long story…well not long, but not interesting.” Another shrug.

“I have time”

“No! You don’t” Santana called from the bar, she wasn’t looking at the pair at the table but she had an eyebrow raised and she rolled her eyes as a crash sounded from behind the side door.

“Puck!” she growled before motioning for Kurt to take over the till while she tugged open the door and disappeared into the storage room. Kurt stood.

“Right, apparently I don’t. Do you want a coffee at least?”

“I wasn’t planning on staying.”

“Oh! Well I can get it you to go if you like? You know, just doing my job.” He tapped his white name badge stupidly before inwardly groaning at the action.

“Okay, sure, why not.”

Kurt just nodded dumbly for a few seconds, staring blankly at Blaine before Blaine started to shift uncomfortably under the gaze and Kurt shot up quickly mumbling sorry at god knows who as he stumbled over the chair trying to get away.

Fucking great, Kurt. Make him think you’re mentally deficient or something.

As he tapped perfectly memorized instructions into the huge clunking coffee machine, expertly putting cup under pipe as he scooped-compacted-tapped the coffee, he could feel Blaine’s eyes on him and a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead which, of course, he blamed on the steam rising from the machine and the frothing milk.

He placed the steaming cup on the end of the counter and gestured for Blaine to take it as he served a nameless customer.

Santana burst through a minute later and Kurt stepped away from the till to let her take over, frustration barely hidden behind her calm mask.

Kurt looked over to the table in the corner, expecting Blaine to either be gone or to be on his way out, but instead he was still sitting in place, coffee in his hand as he sipped at the lid.

“I thought you weren’t staying.”

“I guess I just wanted to show off how much time I have.” He laughed and Kurt felt a tingle in his stomach like the butterfly’s he used to get before singing.

Blaine’s stomach rumbled and his cheeks flushed.

“Ahh, sorry. Guess my stomach’s decided its dinnertime.” He laughed and patted his belly as if it were a small animal in his lap.

Kurt took a few seconds to weigh his options before deciding that, for once, he was going to take something in his own hands.

“There’s a deli near here, I’ve been getting sandwiches there for months, they’re really delicious…I could, you know, show you if you like?” He glanced up hopefully and Blaine just stared at him for a second, as if trying to decide if this was a good idea but his stomach rumbled again and he nodded, smiling and pushing his chair back.

“What can it hurt?” He shrugged his jacket onto his shoulder but paused.

“Wait, aren’t you working?” Yes, yes he was working, and he would still be working for another… he glanced at the clock, 4:00pm, another 3 hours

“I’ll be right back.”

He pulled himself over the bar so he was nearly face to face with Santana and put on his best puppy-dog expression which he usually saved for those months he needed early pay or extra tips, of course it worked better on Puck or Brittany – Santana’s dim but wonderfully friendly girlfriend - but it couldn’t hurt to try it on Santana just this once.

“Santana, if you let me out early I will…” Without skipping a beat in her cleaning she said,

“Come in early tomorrow and clean out the entire filter system?” Kurt groaned. It had to be done once a month and Santana always hired some poor guy to come do it for them since it was the messiest, smelliest job imaginable, and this was coming from someone who had cleaned urinals. But this time he clapped happily.

“Yes, fine, I’ll do it.” Santana looked shocked for a second but waved a hand towards the door.

“Go, then. Go on, get out of here.”

“Thank you!” He sidled back over to Blaine who was now waiting by the window, backpack over his shoulder and guitar case in one hand.

Kurt smiled and followed Blaine as he turned to leave the shop.

“Wait!” Kurt turned to the voice just in time for his coat to smack him straight in the face.

He mumbled a half-hearted thank you to the Mo hawked man who just smirked in response.