What if I'm there first!? Do I go inside and sit all alone and look like a loner...you're trying to impress him; not give him a glimpse into your daily life. But sitting in your car looks even weirder. Oh god please be there first. But now you're wishing for him to go through all of that—god you're heartless. Okay just breathe.

Kurt had never been on a date before. He had never even had to remotely come close to worrying about such topics as how to dress, how to act, what to say, how to say it, when to say it. All these different factors had never crossed Kurt's mind before because in Lima, there was no one. It was homophobia and Sebastian—and quite frankly, Kurt preferred the first because at least homophobia didn't mess up his hair.

The sign for the exit appeared. 1 mile now.

There were a million different ways to say hi and in so many different contexts.

Hey, is that you Blaine? Blaine, it's me, Kurt! Blaine, you're here! Finally!
Ohmygodisthatmydignityhiyou'rehawtletscanoodle

How was Kurt supposed to pick the right way. All these details were racing as he exited the highway onto the road. A few quick turns later and his car was parked at the Starbucks. He turned off the car and wrapped himself up snuggly in his coat and scarf. One last look in the mirror accompanied with a few deep breaths, Kurt stepped out of the Explorer and made his way inside. The next scene would play on in his memory for days to come.

Kurt opened the door and there, two tables away, was an eager Blaine. His hair was gelled back to perfection. Wearing a black polo shirt, white belt, red jeans, black bass shoes, and hazel-yellow sunglasses to complete the outfit, Blaine looked dapper, adorable, and, especially, extremely attractive. Waiting at the table, aside from a smiling Blaine, were two cups of freshly brewed coffee.

"Blaine! It's y-y-yoooouuu!"

And just like that, Kurt managed to find the one slippery spot in all of Mansfield. Kurt flung his belongings in the air in every-which direction and landed thud on his back as Blaine and a few fellow store patrons rushed to help him up.

"My, do you know how to make quite the entrance. How long did it take you to nail that move?" Blaine sassed.

"oh...ow...uhm well, I'll have you know having a stepmother who loves to polish every square inch of tiled bathroom with quadruple the amounts of soap products would give any klutz quite the rehearsal space," Kurt retorted. Blaine giggled. And Kurt's heart melted.

Oh my god. My tibia may be broken but I'll do anything to hear him chuckle like that, even if it were just for one more time.

"Alright, alright. Touch�," Blaine smiled as he helped Kurt up and to his seat without having another incident." Kurt got some of the things he dropped and managed to make it to his seat safe and sound.

"Aww, you already ordered coffee and...what is this!...out of all of the things on the menu, how did you know I'd like a grande peppermint mocha with....mmhmmm yep...two or wait....oh maybe three...shots of vanilla."

"The nice thing about having a blog for most people is that what you say is one thing, but what you reblog can do the same sometimes. And, to be quite honest, your 'breakfast of champions' tag for all things food related should just be retitled as 'Kurt loves Peppermint Mocha.' The grande was just a guesstimation."

Is it possible to fall in love with a complete stranger?

Kurt laughed. "Fair enough, haha. Well, I have to complement your extreme manners and dashing wardrobe."

"Thanks but the award goes to you."

"It's not necessarily a competition...."

"Agreed, but anyone that manages to still look attractive while wearing a hippopotamus pin deserves to win any not-so-real-competition by default," Blaine said. Kurt chuckled as the two of them blushed. Neither really knew what the other was thinking, yet both were on the same wavelength: what do I say next to keep this moving.

They sat in a coffee-shop silence for a few moments as the two of them people watched. An old couple was enjoying the Sunday morning paper in the early afternoon hours. A young man was doing something in his sketch book, a few people were typing on their laptops, and most of the baristas had that look of 'I really need to get a new job' plastered across their fake-smiling faces. Then Kurt finally broke the silence.

"So...we're here. And I just need to lay it out there that, I've never done any of...this. Like, I've never even come close to being on a date—or a catch-up meeting for 'two long, lost friends' as you will—so I apologize if I am awkward at any time. I just...I just don't want to come off as pathetic as I may lead on online or in my so gracious of an entrance."

Blaine chuckled again. God did that chuckle mixed with the way his face lit-up really do things to Kurt.

"Believe me when I say, I am almost in that same boat. I've only ever done something like this once, and its been a while. And I just need to put all your doubts to rest now—your entrance will be something I cherish FOR-ever." Now Kurt laughed.

"Okay, so then to keep the awkwardness of this to a minimum, why don't we just go back and forth asking each other a single question. It'll all lead up to that one big question. Fair?"

"Fair. Your idea so you first."

"Okay, uhm, how old were you when you knew?"

"It took a while. I had always felt a little different, you know? But never fully sure until about the beginning of sophomore year. Part of that I would like to blame on the fact that I attend an all boys prep school, which promotes a zero tolerance policy for everything—not just drugs or weapons but hate speech and bullying as well—so there was never that separation between jerks that picked on me for being, well, me and the outcasts that accepted me full heartedly. I guess that was both good and bad. Same question, back to you."

"Well, I am the opposite. I knew for quite a long time—my dad, Burt, told me I practically came out of the womb with jazz hands and a few routines nailed down. I go to a school where people turn their heads, so they don't have to face the harsh cruelties that continue to go on, even today. I am accepted by my outcast group of friends, though I feel as though sometimes I'm alone—not just because of my sexuality, but because everyone else has someone special or some really close friend and I've never had that. I've been bullied for years and have even been physically assaulted—"

The horror spread across Blaine's eyes. "Oh my god, Kurt, I'm so sorry—"

"No. Don't be sorry. These things don't get to me—at least they don't anymore. Ever since my mom passed away—I know, this is all at once, but trust me that aside from these two things, I actually have quite a good life going!—I realized that she wouldn't want these people to get me down, and so almost overnight, I just knew that what they were saying doesn't truly reflect on the type of person that I am or the character I possess."

"That's actually really awesome. I don't know if I could ever do that."

"Oh trust me, once you put up with it for a little while, you grow accustomed. Your skin grows a little thicker, and you learn to deal with it appropriately. But okay, your turn. You said you had gone on a date one other time. What was that boy like?"

Blaine chuckled. "This is one of those moments that you look back on and that no matter how much time seems to pass, there's still this large pang of regret embedded in your soul."

"Like forgetting to tape Ellen?!"

"YES—except imagine that feeling only amplified by a factor or ten then exponentiated by an additional factor of ten."

"Oh, yikes, that's terrifying."

"Tell me about it. So this guy, he went to my Prep school for a while and it was the end of sophomore year. I had thought he was quite the catch and he confessed the same in me. And one day, after class, he asked if he could take me out on a date. I was ecstatic—this wasn't a dream; an actual living, human-being wanting to go out with me!—so of course, I said yes. We went out to dinner and he seemed so, extremely-charming and intellectual and almost like the perfect dream guy."

"My-my. What did he do then?"

"When we were saying our goodbyes—keep in mind this was still our first date—he asked if I'd like to accompany him back to his place. Of course, I said so and while walking to his car, I asked what we'd do there. He just gave me a really ominous and almost menacing smirk. He unlocked his car door and before you know it, I was thrown onto the backseat and my shirt was already coming over my head. I managed to struggle my way out of the car, yelling—screaming at this guy—demanding what the hell he thought he was doing."

Blaine stopped and sadly smirked himself before continuing.

"He said this is what people do—they go on dates, they make out, and then they fuck."

"Oh. My. God. Blaine...that's...."

"Don't. The guy's a total idiot and I told him to go fuck himself. I had never wanted to throw up more though in my life—all of that courage instantly vanished and I was left with this pair of wobbly legs—which I admit come in handy when I'm doing my MJ dances."

He gave a quick pelvic thrust and hand motion. Kurt chuckled and Blaine continued.

"Lucky for me though, this dude's dad got a job in I don't know where and he moved far enough away so that I'd never have to worry about him again."

"Dam that's intense. I don't think I'd ever have someone so vile as that; my worst enemy is with this other gay dude Sebastian..."

"What?!" Blaine flinched.

"What? " Kurt asked, thinking he had misspoken or said something wrong.

"What's the dudes name?"

"Sebastian?"

"Could that possibly be a mister Sebastian Smythe," Blaine inquired.

Kurt's face went stone cold but then lit up.

"YES. Is that the..."

Blaine nodded.

Kurt sat there in the silence for another moment before getting up.

"Where are you going?!" Blaine pleaded.

"We are going to need another round of coffee after this. It's on me this time."