Despite his bad days and even worse nights, Kurt was surviving. He still had his job and his auditions and his friends. And it’s not like football players came to Java House often.

He was not at all intimidated when one warm, lazy afternoon, a chipper hobbit of a man stood across from him at the counter asking for a medium drip, please. Kurt stood more than a few inches taller than him and could see easily where the greasy hair product the stranger had combed in that morning was starting to stiffen, but Kurt rang him up without comment and started to write on the paper cup. “Name, please?” he asked, bored.

“Blaine,” said the guy, and oh my goodness Kurt suddenly realized he had a voice like he’d never heard before, husky and like sex on a stick but also with a little bit of laughter in it, and Kurt had to admit that laughter had been missing in his life for a long time now.

But then Kurt snapped back to reality, catching himself just staring at Blaine, sharpie poised over the cup. He tried to recover a tiny shred of his dignity – “How do you spell that?” he asked, even though, he wasn’t stupid, he had a pretty good idea.

“Surprise me. Extra points for creativity.” The stranger – Blaine – winked, and Kurt blushed and smiled at him before turning around to hand over the cup to Serena, his lovely blond counterpart on this shift Tuesdays and Fridays. When he turned back to the counter, he was surprised to see Blaine still standing there. Staring. Kurt felt his face really start to heat up. “Yes?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Blaine flushed instantly. “Sorry! Just trying to figure out…is that sweater Alexander McQueen?” Kurt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yes…yes, it is, it’s from his 2009 collection and I almost didn’t wear it today, I didn’t want to get coffee on it…but, yes, it’s his.” He cringed inwardly at the complete awkwardness of that statement.

“I like it.” Blaine smiled at him again and Kurt felt his heartbeat start to pick up…that smile and that voice and those pretty hazel eyes…

“Medium drip,” called Serena from the drinks table a few feet away. Kurt cursed that drink and all of the other coffee- made drinks in the universe when Blaine’s eyes pulled away from his. He looked out the store’s front window, trying to get ahold of himself. What was he even doing? This guy could be straight for all he knew, and how exactly was this supposed to help him get over his other issues? Fuck, Hummel, get a grip, Kurt snapped in his head. You can’t be trying this after a couple days of sexual frustration. You can’t just fall for the first guy who you see immediately after you’ve filed a restraining order against your previous boyfriend. You just can’t.

He was snapped out of his personal crazy universe when Blaine stepped in front of him, between him and the window. He was pouting. “You spelled my name right,” jokingly putting on puppy-dog eyes. Kurt smiled at him distractedly because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking this but god was that cute. Blaine didn’t seem fazed. “No extra points for you today,” he said, winked, and left the coffee shop. As soon as the tinkling off the bell on the door signaled Blaine’s exit, Kurt let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. And then he spent the next few hours of his shift agonizing over whether that last comment meant that Blaine was coming back tomorrow.

…

Despite his best efforts to be cavalier, Blaine actually was a little disappointed. As soon as that (cheesy, stupid) line had popped into his head and somehow managed to tumble its way through his lips, Blaine had been hoping that Kurt (he wasn’t a creep for sneaking a look at his nametag, right? that’s what they’re there for) would pull something crazy, maybe spell Blaine s-e-x-y and add a phone number to boot. That’s certainly what the string of men Blaine had recently dated would have done – hell, they had! Blaine hadn’t had much trouble keeping his promise to himself that he wouldn’t flirt with every stud in this town before he at least settled into his apartment – until he walked into Java House and saw Kurt. That had hit him like a shit-ton of iron in the nuts, and before he knew it he was winking and smiling and pulling designer names out of thin air (thank god more than a few of that long line of men had taught him a thing or two about fashion) just to get some hold in the world of this beautiful creature who didn’t seem to even notice his existence. Blaine was about to redouble his efforts, to mention something lewd and crude just to watch Kurt blush, to see what would happen when Kurt was certain of his intentions, when he saw what Kurt looked like lost in thought. Delicate. A half-distracted eyebrow quirked, and was that a yellowed bruise at his temple? Kurt looked like he hadn’t slept in a long time, Blaine realized, and he also realized that he really did think Kurt was beautiful. And Kurt probably wasn’t that kind of guy at all, not one of those desperate guys Blaine had been wasting his time with, and Blaine understood – that made him very special. So he should probably take a different tack the next day, more subtle, with sweetness and flowers for beautiful Kurt… Blaine’s thoughts starting to drift into nonsensical mumbles, he absentmindedly looked down at his watch and –

Well, he was going to have to damn near sprint for the bus, but hell, was it worth it.