It wasn't like he needed the extra money like most boys his age. For some reason he enjoyed working. He felt a little sense of pride when he would mention little things that happened "at work." He had to admit, it kind of made him feel a little more mature and important. Blaine was never good at staying still and focusing on just one thing. He could be very hyper at times, a lot like a puppy dog. That shone through his performances with The Warblers. Blaine figured that that was why he was awarded practically every solo since he joined. And, he had to admit, he enjoyed the spotlight. Hell, he loved it. It made him feel alive and free.

This wasn't the most glamorous job, not really. It was typical for a "first job." Working at a coffee shop. The Lima Bean to be exact. There were days where he regretted choosing to work in a place where he had to prepare drinks for people. Those were the days where it seemed like everyone was out to get him, complaining that their coffee wasn't hot enough or too hot. Or whining about the fact that the coffee shop happened to be out of Splenda that particular morning.

And then there were those crazy "regulars." Like the old woman who would come by every Wednesday evening at six o'clock on the dot. Her timing never seemed to fail. Blaine knew. He had checked the clock every single evening and it had indeed been six o'clock. She always ordered an "extra dry, double shot cappuccino with whipped cream and no lid." Blaine faced the woman's wrath his third day on the job. The boy was still getting a feel for making drinks and understanding all of these coffee terms. He had offered her a lid, explaining that it was a safety precaution. "If I don't put a lid on the cup, ma'am, and you burn yourself, we can get in a lot of trouble," he offered kindly as he snapped the lid on the cup and slid it over to her. That had been his first mistake. Blaine half expected the woman to collapse on the floor and begin kicking and screaming like a child from the way she was yelling at him, going on about how, "Kids these days have no respect for their elders! They think they know everything there is to know about everything in life!" and some other complaints. Blaine couldn't really remember because by that time, he was simply nodding with a smile and tuning her words out, just watching as her face twisted angrily while she waved her hands about wildly.

Of course, not all regulars were as vile as Cappuccino Lady. There were also some very nice ones. Like the elderly couple who came by three (sometimes four) times a week and always ordered a tall drip coffee and a green tea. They always tucked a five dollar bill into the tip jar, telling Blaine that he was such a sweet boy and thanking him kindly when he handed them their drinks.

And then there was Grande Non-Fat Mocha. He didn't come by as often as Cappuccino Lady or the sweet elderly couple, but he stopped by quite enough for Blaine to memorize his order and know exactly how he liked his drink. Blaine knew exactly how much chocolate he liked in his mocha as well as the fact that it had to be sugar-free (he could taste the difference.) Blaine also knew that he didn't like it too hot. He liked his milk steamed to one hundred and forty, the perfect warm temperature. Blaine always saw him coming from afar and would promptly scribble his order onto the cup. Nine out of ten times, Blaine had his drink ready before he'd even place his order. Grande Non-Fat Mocha would smile sweetly at him and thank him as he handed Blaine his credit card.

Blaine really liked this boy. Their conversations were usually brief and consisted of how their day was going. A few times, Blaine was able to mention something exiting that happened over the course of his week like going to Six Flags with a few of his friends. He loved the way the boy would smile at him. He loved the way he would giggle and brush at his bangs when Blaine would greet him with "Grande Non-Fat Mocha?" and slide the cup over to him.

There were little things that Blaine had gathered about this boy in the two weeks that he had known him. First and foremost, he had an amazing eye for fashion. It was like a treat for Blaine to see what kind of outfit he would wear each day-that was, of course, in a totally non creepy way. He had also gathered that he was definitely around Blaine's age, give or take a year. Grande Non-Fat Mocha had stopped by with a friend one day and Blaine could have sworn he heard him call her Mercedes and he had kinda-sorta eavesdropped in on their conversation about some kind of set list which made Blaine wonder. Could they possibly be one of the teams The Warblers would compete against at sectionals? The New Directions from William McKinley High, was it? And then there was that one afternoon. Blaine had just clocked in to his four o'clock shift when he noticed Grande Non-Fat Mocha walking into the coffee shop. Blaine's stomach fluttered like it usually did when he saw the boy coming his way. He quickly scribbled the order on to the cup and handed it off to his co-worker who was making drinks that afternoon. Blaine's smile, however, quickly died down a little when Grande Non-Fat Mocha approached the counter. He didn't have that usual bounce in his step and his smile seemed a little forced as he gripped the strap of his bag. Blaine had offered a weak smile as he peeked at those eyes that looked bloodshot, like he had been crying. Of course, Blaine said nothing. He didn't even know this boy's name so it wasn't his business to pry into his personal life. He simply handed him his drink, with a kind smile as he spoke the drink order out-loud. His heart managed to skip a beat when the blue eyed boy's fingers accidentally (or he wondered, purposefully) brushed against his own when he took the cup. And for a moment, Blaine could have sworn he saw that forced smile turn into something a little more genuine.

One Sunday morning, Blaine decided to be a little smart-ass. He was tired of referring to this boy as Grande Non-Fat Mocha. After handing him his drink in exchange for that familiar credit card, Blaine focused his attention to the name imprinted on the card as he waited for the receipt to print out. Tugging at the paper, he ripped it free of the printer, holding it against the credit card and handing it across the counter to the boy with the pretty blue eyes. "Thank you, Kurt," he said, the name rolling off of his tongue with so much ease. It felt so natural. So nice.

Those blue eyes widened in the slightest as they stared back at Blaine. He blinked a few times, carefully grabbing at the card. "How did you…know my name?" he asked slowly as he slipped the card back into his wallet and neatly folded the receipt into his wallet as well.

Blaine grinned in response as his eyes flashed down to the wallet and back up to meet Kurt's. "Mind reader," he offered with a little wink. It was fairly early and slow. There was no one in line behind Kurt, so why not take the opportunity to flirt a little? "I saw it on the card," he finished with a small chuckle and he could have sworn he saw Kurt's face flush a little as he offered a soft, "Oh." And then Kurt was tucking his wallet into his pocket as a little smile tugged at the corners of his lips and Blaine couldn't help himself as his eyes flashed down for a brief moment to look at those pretty lips before meeting blue eyes once more.

"I think it's only fair that I get to know your name now." Blaine watched as Kurt's eyes flicked down to his chest as if he was looking for a name tag of some sort. He found nothing, turning his attention back to Blaine's eyes, eyebrows raising expectantly.

"My name's Blaine," he said finally, offering a hand to Kurt who in turn looked at his outstretched hand before finally taking a hold of it and shaking it.

"Well," Kurt said with a grin. "It's very nice to officially meet you, Blaine."