Kurt walked through the doors of the Vogue office at precisely 6:00 a.m., and took the elevator up to the seventh floor. As soon as the doors to the elevator opened, he stepped out to be greeted by his assistant, Rachel Berry, who already had his coffee ready.

He continued into his office after receiving his drink and stopped to read the plaque nailed to the door:

Kurt Hummel

Chief Executive Officer

Vogue Magazine

He'd never get tired of that.

"Is there anything else you need Mr. Hummel?" Rachel asked him as he settled into his office chair after taking off his coat. Kurt took a sip of his coffee and made a face of disgust.

"I need to know why my coffee is cold.” He said with a contrived patience.

“Oh! I’m so so sorry, sir!” Rachel exclaimed, completely horrified. She rushed over to Kurt to retrieve his cup. “I’ll just go heat that up for you right no-”

“No! I want a new one! Can no one do anything right in this place but me?!” Kurt got out of his seat, snatched the cup from Rachel and threw into the trash bin in the corner of his office, before making his way out of the door. “I’ll do it myself!”

Kurt Hummel had a stressful life.

Acquiring the title of CEO had been his sole aspiration since his feet touched New York pavement 5 years ago. Now, he had everything he wanted and anything he needed. But it changed him. His heart hardened and his genuine care for people lessened. In his defense, he didn’t really have to care about anyone, they all had to care about him and making sure they completed every task he gave them in a way that met his extreme standards.

And as far as his hardened heart, well, he figured no one wanted to love him for who he truly was anyway, because everyone wanted something from Kurt Hummel, CEO, everywhere he turned. Love for anyone but himself was an illusion, a fluke, which he wanted no part in.

However, there were certain times, very few and far between, that Kurt would question whether or not he should try to be nicer, more open, maybe attempt to crack an actual smile at someone for once. But someone like Rachel Berry would do something as small as bring him cold coffee and Kurt would remember why he hated people.

Deep down Kurt knew Rachel didn’t do it on purpose but she knew that his morning coffee was sacred. She should’ve done better, should’ve tried harder.

Because now, a furious Kurt Hummel had to go get his own damn coffee.

He was the only one he had, anyway.

Blaine Anderson bounced on his feet impatiently at the street corner across from Starbucks, waiting for the light to change. His right hand trying to stay warm in the pocket of his winter coat and his left hand holding the handle of his guitar case tightly.

Once the crosswalk signaled that it was okay for him to cross the street, Blaine quickly made his way towards the coffee shop. The cold was sharp on his skin and he was running late for his job. He was almost at the door when his guitar case bumped into someone, tripping them both.

"Shit!"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I should've been watching where I was going, damn, are you o-" Blaine began to ramble, but he trailed off when he looked up to see who he had collided with.

Sparkling blue-green eyes met his, eyes that were on a beautiful pale face, soft yet masculine in all the right places, with (somehow sun-kissed) brown hair, coiffed to the side, all accompanied by a lean body covered in a crisp suit and a well-fitted coat. This man was an angel, this man couldn't be rea-

"Could you maybe watch where you’re going?!" The man shouted staring at Blaine with a dangerous blend of annoyance and disgust.

"Sorry!" Blaine snapped out of his daze. "You’re right! I should have- I’m s-sorry. Sorry. For uh, tripping you. With my guitar case. I, uh-" he stuttered.

The man stared, unamused. "Whatever," he spoke with a voice unlike Blaine had ever heard, no longer shouting, and then he pushed past Blaine before walking into the coffee shop. Blaine followed suit quickly, as he was even more late for work now and to make matters worse, this angelic (yet angry) man was going to be inside, and Blaine would have to pretend not to stare.

The man walked straight to the counter and Blaine rushed into the back of the coffee shop to put down his guitar case, and put on his apron and hat. When he walked back out into the shop, the man still hadn't been served, of course. He stood at the counter, tapping his foot and scrolling through his phone.

"Hello, sir. What can I get for you today?" Blaine recited as he was supposed to.

The man looked up abruptly, then frowned slowly as recognition dawned on him. "Finally! I’ve been—oh. It's you." He said flatly. Blaine ducked his head in embarrassment, he could feel blush high on his cheeks. "I need a grande non-fat mocha."

"Okay! Coming right up! Name?"

"Kurt."

And, what a beautiful name it was. Blaine wrote Kurt's name on his cup with reverence. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt.

"Six dollars and forty-one cents, please." Blaine announced before making Kurt's coffee.

"Here," Kurt looked at Blaine's name tag, "Blaine." Kurt handed his card to him, and looked around impatiently. Blaine finished the transaction and made Kurt’s coffee in a flustered daze.

“Um, here… uh- Kurt.” Blaine cursed his awkwardness and handed the beautiful angel his coffee slowly.

Kurt quickly took the cup without a word before strutting, literally strutting out of the door.

Blaine didn't know if he was more surprised at how a guy that flawless could walk around so angrily or at how he got butterflies when he-Kurt said his name.