Blaines hand fumbled through the open air for the napkin, Kurts number flashing in and out of view as it floated to the concrete. Dropping to his knees Blaine sighed in exasperation, mumbling profanities to himself. And thats when Trent opened the door.

Trents home was an actual house, as opposed to Blaines somewhat tiny (but wonderfully painted) apartment. This was because Trent had a real paying job. Well... a business.

A cake business.

Straight out of Dalton he had started his own little bakery after his cousin practically gave him the space. He (somehow) kept it going through college, with money he'd earned and saved and been given by wealthy parents. It hit major popularity the beginning of their final year, and Trent was constantly holding it all over Blaines head.

In a loving, motivational, way.

"Can I help you, angry hobbit?"

Blaine scowled slightly at the cheerily delivered insult, but soon decided it didn't matter when his fingers closed around the napkin. Shooting to his feet he shoved in Trents face, already heinously overexcited.

His best friend of sorts squinted, peering at the name in front of him.

"Thats some messy handwri-"

"Its not messy its elegant."

"Kurt Hummel... is that the tragically beautiful guy you were stalking toda-"

"Yes and he gave me his number."

"Okay well thats gre-"

"And he's not tragic he's angelic."

"Well do you want to come insi-?"

"Yeah!"

It dawned on Blaine, as Trent backed well away from the door, that he was possibly a tad terrifyingly over eager. He didn't really care that much.

Until he saw his bug eyed grinning expression in the mirror and cringed.

Trent led the way into the kitchen, half a batch of cupcakes already painted in frosting neatly arranged on the island. Passing one wordlessly to Blaine, he awaited the impending storm.

---

"Maybe he's dating him."

The idea was disgusting to Blaine.

"No way. For one thing, Kurts too good for him. And for another, Jeremiah never even left Westerville. He will die there alone."

Trent snorted and raised an eyebrow. Blaine wondered if he was the only one who couldn't do that.

"Still a little bitter, are we Blaine?"

He didn't even bother lying.

"Hell yeah. I hate him and his stupid perm."

"At least you got nice socks."

"I don't even like socks!"

"You're wearing them now!"

"Because wearing them today was strictly necessary!"

He had to take a breath to stay on the right subject instead of his anti-sock rage. Trent however just finished the cupcake he was eating and began decorating the others. No one understood his plight with socks... not even himself...

"Should I text him or call him?"

"Well I'd say you've stalked him enough so text him tomorrow."

Blaine nodded, shoving the final half of his second cupcake into his mouth and rising from his cushioned seat at the island.

"Well Trent I have to go. Thanks for the food and mediocre wisdom."

Smiling good naturedly, Trent waved him towards the door. It was as he was about to leave that he rememebered.

"Hey can you help me get home?"

Trent closed his eyes and took a deep breath, 'sassy face' firmly in place.

"Are you kidding me, boy?"

"Please?"

His puppy dog eyes hadn't failed him yet.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I have no idea how I got here."

"You get more ridiculous with age."

"I know."

---

It was an insulting banter filled car ride (those were the times Blaine envied Trents stupid bakery) and an hour of devouring pasta later. Blaine had meant to wait until the next day. Really. But he couldn't help thinking that maybe texting him then wouldn't be so bad...

It was 6:09 pm. Blaine had a small but decently paying gig at some bar called Rocky Road at 8 pm. If he texted Kurt now maybe he could come watch, and for whatever reason Blaine really wanted him to. He refused to admit that he hoped to impress him. But he probably couldn't and wouldn't want to anyway, and Trent was right. He had stalked him enough, too much really. He really shouldn't bother him so soon after speaking for the first time. It would be weird.

So Blaine stopped staring at the digits now saved onto his phone. He resumed his diligent scouring of the map in front of him, writing directions onto the palm of his hand. At seven o'clock he was out the door and leaving sky blue walls behind for the streets, hair freshly gelled and adorned in red.

Hoping somehow, Kurt would be there anyway.

But he wasn't.

With every second spent barely heard on stage, Blaines eyes searched hopelessly for coiffed hair or a flash of brilliant blue under stage lights. But it was all wasted effort. Even the extra care he'd taken with his curls...

Then he finished his last song.

As Blaine walked off stage he caught a glimpse of a chain on a trendy waistcoat and hair fluffed to perfection. But as he left he missed the smile aimed right at him, from the man who'd glimpsed him too.

---

Blaine could feel a mysterious buzzing through the pocket of his jacket.

Lying face down on his bed, where he'd collapsed in shame the night before, he attempted to ignore his phone. After just barely seeing Kurt last night, he couldn't figure out if his luck was good or bad. Maybe it was just average. Or a vicious bitch. Either way, if that was Trent or Wes bugging him via text he didn't want to know. He just wanted to wallow in his awkward. Especially because Wes (as his 'manager) was there last night, and witnessed him trip over his feet after spotting Kurt.

He had landed on his face. It was a special kind of painful, and quite embarrassing.

As a fresh wave of shame hit him like his face had the floor, his phone buzzed again.

Blaine Anderson generally lived is life with an optimistic, cheerful attitude. Except for when dealing with douche bags and mornings. Growling he practically ripped his jacket off and dug into the pocket, prepared to attack with words. But then he saw the first message.

- Some guy called Kurt told me to tell you to text him sometime. -

And then the second one...

- Hi! Its Kurt from Coffee Time yesterday. Hope you don't mind, I stole your number from your manager ;) -

Of course he didn't mind. Through the feeling of his pounding heart Blaine felt a third buzzing.

- I told him you'd forget cause you're an idiot and just gave him your number. -

Never before was Blaine so thankful that Wes had forced him into hiring him as his 'manager'. Even if he had told Kurt he was an idiot. Which was not helpful.

- Wes you're a shit and I owe you -

Blaines fingers flew over the letters on his phone, never actually touching any of them as his mouth hung open for no apparent reason. What was he supposed to say? There was an extremely attractive, funny, awesome, interesting guy waiting for a response. From him. From a weirdo with a thing for bowties. What the hell was he supposed to say?

It took an extra two minutes or so but eventually he managed to formulate a kind of response.

- Hi Kurt! He's not my manager, he's Wes and he's a jerk so don't listen to anything he tells you XD -

For the entire three minutes it took Kurt to respond Blaine had sat in six different positions on his bed, and mapped the way to Coffee Time five times in his head. He nearly fell when the phone buzzed where it was lying on his face.

- If you say so ;). Planning on getting coffee any time soon? -

Oh god yes.

- Definitely -

Just when he thought it couldn't beat at a more obnoxious pace, his heart flew to his throat on the wings of the butterflies in his stomach. This, was the feeling of something to come. That mad fluttering of maybe this could be wonderful, what if this goes somewhere?

That feeling of oh my god he's cute and he's talking to me.

- Coffee Time at 2 tomorrow? -

- Sure I'll see you then :) -

A teenage dream.

---

"So. Rocky Road."

Blaine smiled into his coffee as he settled in his chair, previous nerves gone under sharp blue eyes.

"Yep. I'm quite the aspiring performer. Rocky Road is just one of my many fabulous venues."

As he spoke he pulled the arrogant face of a wannabe rock star, drawing a delightful giggle from Kurt. There was something about the sound that pulled at Blaines heartstrings, and he found himself slightly breathless.

Then he knew.

He knew that whatever this could become he had to keep going, had to keep diving way too fast into far too treacherous waters. For that giggle and those eyes and the person behind them. Because sometimes you know someone for a day and you just know.

"Oh I'm sure. You are obviously quite the rock star."

He chuckled, sitting up straighter with his head in the air and adjusting the collar of his checkered red shirt. And Kurt giggled again and making a fool of himself was worth it.

"A Capella is more my style actually."

Kurts eyebrows rose and he nodded once.

"Of course, you were a Warbler."

It was stupid how much it pleased Blaine that Kurt remembered that detail of his story.

"Indeed I was, best group I've ever been in."

He'd only ever been in two actually. The Warblers and a far less successful group in college with a name that kept changing.

Kurts expression turned to a cat like look of knowledge that stirred something in his chest.

It was sexy.

"I competed against you, you know."

It took a considerable effort to keep his mouth from dropping to the table. In doing so, he failed to stop his eyes from bulging out of his skull.

"My Glee club, New Directions, won almost every time. Though I'll admit the Warblers were exceptional."

"Just not as exceptional as you."

Blaine didn't know if he meant for that to mean Kurt and Kurt alone. But it sounded that way, and Blaine could remember a voice so clear it sung right through him and froze his breath in his lungs. But he couldn't tell Kurt that. He could't explain the chord his voice had struck within him all those years ago, not to someone he'd spoken to twice and texted for a day. It would be crazy. Just like everything else he had and hadn't done.

"So tell me, do you still two-step like a pro?"

His voice was flustered but happily so, and the panic in Blaine subsided.

"Well Kurt. That you may never know. Unless you let me show you sometime."

He had no idea what he was doing. For all the changing he'd done since high school, good and bad, he was still hopeless at romance and wooing and dating... He could still pretend but it wasn't real yet.

But Kurt smiled with every part of his face and those butterflies came screaming back.

"Only if you let me show you the New Directions arm lift."

Blaine grinned, bursting with what felt like success but more bubbly and relieved.

"Deal."

Then they were both blushing into their emptying coffee cups, neither noticing the others dusting of red. It was suddenly quietly peaceful. Another deserted day at Coffee Time, with two bored employees of twenty and two blushing fools in need of more distracting caffeine.

And it was lovely.

"Hey Violet."

Their heads lifted, perfectly in sync, towards the soft voice that spoke at the counter. Martin had stepped behind the wood and glass barrier and stood nervously beside a previously daydreaming Violet. She turned to him and smiled, tired and a little bit shy.

"Martin... hi."

He smiled back at her. Suddenly Blaine could a hear a not entirely suppressed squeal of excitement and turned with a massive grin to Kurt, whose eyes were bright and laughing. He crossed his fingers and pulled an exaggeratedly hopeful face. Kurt had to bite his soft looking lips to keep from laughing.

Martin leaned against the counter the same way Violet was, looking from his hands to her and back again. He reminded Blaine of himself, lost and scared, but willing - needing - to try. The same way Blaine had always been and could see himself being soon.

"I was just... wondering if you were okay."

There was surprise on her face, concern on his, and cooing looks on Blaine and Kurts.

"Even your hair seems a little down."

He curled a lock of her ponytail around his finger and tugged gently.

Blaines heart melted at the sigh of "How cute..." that escaped Kurts tiny wistful smile. It was stranger, how excited they both were. But there was something so endearing about the pair, young and unknowingly romantic in a small but special coffee shop in New York City.

Violet was flustered and pink and Kurt was almost the same, and the entire thing was just adorable.

"I'm fine, I just haven't gotten much sleep lately."

Kurt and Blaine turned to each other again, eyebrows drawn. It seemed like there was more and that Martin could tell too. But despite the desire all three felt to know more, Martin didn't press for anything else.

"I can take your shift tomorrow if you want, so you can get some rest. Its been a quiet week so far, I could manage it."

He obviously didn't know what he was doing, he just did what his heart told him he had to, even if he didn't hear it. Just like Blaine...

Violet looked like she wanted to hug him, but she shook her head instead.

"Thats not fair to you, I can't-"

"Please Vi."

Blaine and Kurt both held their breath, caught by Martins impending whisper and swept away by its slowly hushed arrival.

"You have shadows under your eyes..."

Her arms flew around his neck, desperate and exhausted, and it took half a second before Martins arms wrapped tightly around her and Kurts hand found Blaines wrist. He could feel the heat spreading from his wrist to his heart and seeping into his brain. Trying not to smile too wide, but not missing Kurts pink cheeks, Blaine tried to focus on the scene before him.

Martins eyes were wide and staring at the skin of Violets neck, before he gave in and let his head drop there. His eyes scrunched shut.

Whirling around to an excited Kurt, Blaine couldn't control the slight flailing of his arms as he mouthed "We should go, oh my god we should go!"

Kurt nodded quickly, shining eyes flicking to the embracing workers in their brown aprons then back to Blaine.

"Do you think they'll notice?" He mouthed back.

Judging by how absorbed the two of them seemed, Blaine highly doubted it.

He shook his head and pulled his wrist from Kurts slackened grip, pulling them both to their feet and towards the door. Almost completely silent, they snuck hand in hand through the door, flinching at the small sound of the bell but relaxing when the other two didn't react. Even though the entire situation was ridiculous, Blaine couldn't stop himself from noticing how their hands fit together like the clues of a mystery - surprisingly and perfectly.

Then they were out, the wind whipping through gelled curls and sprayed waves as they raced away down the street. Still holding hands, their laughter joined together like the parts of a song and Blaine had never felt so free.

He had never run like this before - through the pavements of New York with a marvelous mans hand in his, feeling like they were both just boys running in a slow motion down a deserted street. But it felt as though he had, as if in some other life they had done this before, and it was meant to happen again now.

They were meant for something great.

And Blaine could feel it coursing through his veins like fire.

In what seemed like a thousand fleeting moments they were in Central Park, the rush of the run still in their eyes. Blaine could still hear Kurts laughter in his ear and his skin soft and soothing on his.

They sat on a bench together, close enough for Blaine to be hyper aware of Kurts every movement, as they caught their breath. Kurt turned to look at him, his hair messed up and grinning wildly.

"You do realise that now we have to go back, right?"

He nodded, grasping at air and far too excited.

"Hell yeah we do! But we have to give at least a day though..."

Kurt hummed sagely.

"Of course. Violet likely won't even be there tomorrow."

"Yeah, Martin would probably send her back again anyway."

Then Kurt burst.

"But did you see the way he looked at her?!"

"Like a devoted puppy in love!"

"And she looked so sad and guilty!"

"I know! And then she just collapsed into his arms!"

"And then he just - I nearly died."

"Me too. It was so sweet."

Kurt squealed a little then clapped his hands over his mouth at Blaines small laugh, embarrassed and lovely. Blaine nudged Kurts shoulder with his, and summer sea blue met his eyes reluctantly.

"I'm sorry... I try to be cool but really I'm just a silly romantic..."

Blaines heartbeat slowed with at how earnestly he meant his next words.

"Its not silly."

Kurt smiled.

---

It was only when he fell face first again onto his bed that he realised it. He was fairly certain he hadn't stopped smiling, from seeing Kurt leaning back in his chair in those knee high boots, to waving goodbye to him as he left central park.

It was marvelous and fast and weird and crazy, and he was pretty sure a part of him was already in love. Maybe he should consult the optimistically sassy Trent or the pessimistically orderly Wes. Maybe he should get a dog or a blue eyed brown haired cat, so he wouldn't have to consult either of them.

Or maybe he should just text Kurt his theory on the story of Violet and Martin.

He was planning out a future with the cat (named Desmond) when he got a reply.

- I think if they saved the world together before seeking a quite coffee shop life, they'd have kissed already. -

He laughed. He could imagine that cat like look on his face again.

- Thats a valid point. During one of those great we-could-die moments. -

They shared theories until Blaine could feel the darkness drifting through his open window and pulling at his eyelids.

He dreamed of laughter in his ears and hands in his, empty Dalton hallways and New York streets, frozen breath and past performers on stage before him.

It was until he woke up the next morning that he remembered.

He still hadn't heard that story.