The following days, Kurt found his mind wandering back to the boy in the bookshop alarmingly often. He was a little surprised to find that he did not really care if Blaine was related to the drunk driver from the accident or not. In fact, he hardly ever thought of that, his mind choosing instead to focus on Blaine’s soft, almost musical laughter and the way it had felt when he had shaken his hand and, before that, gripped his wrist. He would snap out of these reveries with a sharp little start, mentally reprimanding himself. It felt almost wrong, a guilty pleasure, when he hardly even knew the boy, and he told himself to get a grip or he would find himself on a slippery slope that would have him transformed into a stalker at the end. It did nothing to stop it, however, which was why Kurt found himself startled and completely clueless in the middle of class the following Tuesday. Every single person in the room was staring at him, some looking smug, others mildly curious, and some with their eyes glazed over, looking like their lives would only truly begin after the bell had sounded. The closest high school ever came to a zombie apocalypse, Kurt thought to himself before the teacher, Mrs Morgenstern, cleared her throat again. She was looking at him sternly, expectantly, and he tried to remember what they had been talking about before images of Blaine had taken over his brain. Right. Adjectives.
“Er… predicative?”
Mrs Morgenstern pursed her lips, looking a bit like a cat that had just been forced to move from a patch of sunlight.
“And why is ‘happy’ a predicative adjective in this sentence?”
Kurt racked his brains.
“Um. Because of… the verb.”
“Yes, Mr Hummel. Because it is connected to the noun or, in this case, pronoun, by a copulative verb, in this case ‘to be’.”
She was still looking rather grim, so Kurt pushed all thoughts of Blaine away. It would not do to get caught again. Unfortunately, Mrs Morgenstern was not easily appeased, and at the end of the class, she set them their longest ever homework assignment. As the students were milling around and filing out of the classroom, grumbling, Kurt found himself being pushed around, hitting a desk and then the wall. Clearly, somebody felt the need to take it out on him for putting the teacher in a bad mood and getting them more homework because of it. He looked up in time to see two sneering members of the hockey team disappear around the corner. His shoulder hurt from hitting the wall and he was still in a bad mood by the time glee practice began.

When the last shouts of “See you later!” and “Tomorrow, home boy!” had echoed through the corridors and Kurt had left the choir room, he was still thinking of his outrageous assignment about the different categories of adjectives and adjectival phrases. What with his other homework, helping his father out at the garage, finding and rehearsing a song to perform in glee club and taking Rachel and Mercedes on a much anticipated shopping spree, he was pressed for time. He knew he had to get started right away if he wanted to be able to finish in time, and from the looks of it, he was going to be at it till late at night. He would need coffee, large amounts of coffee, to survive.

Thankfully, the Lima Bean was nearly empty, the queue short and the baristas quick. Kurt was on his way out, a large cup of coffee clutched in each hand and his head filled with adjectival phrases, when his foot slipped on a wet patch of floor and he stumbled forwards, colliding with somebody and spilling coffee all over their shirt and jacket. It was only luck and the stranger’s strength and sense of balance that stopped them from toppling to the ground, and Kurt clutched at the man’s sleeves to stay upright, embarrassed beyond belief. Cursing his own clumsiness, his head already teeming with every possible variation of “I’m sorry” that he could think of, he raised his eyes to look at the man.
He was met with shocked, hazel eyes in a face surrounded by black curls.
No. Oh no. This was just not fair.
There was a short, frozen moment where they just stared at each other, speechless. Then, suddenly, Kurt realised they were all but embracing and immediately let go, cheeks burning crimson.
Of course he would manage to walk into and spill scalding coffee on the very same guy he had fallen on and showered with books not a week before. Clearly the universe had a problem with him. Blaine must think he was some sort of stalker with a sadistic streak. He finally found his voice.
“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I just… It was wet and I slipped and it wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t mean to, I swear, and I’m so sorry! Oh God, I’ve ruined your clothes! Oh no! I’ll replace them, just please – “
“Hey! Relax. Breathe.”
Kurt snapped his mouth closed and forced himself to take several steadying breaths through his nose. The feeling of panic ebbed away, slowly, leaving him mortified and awkward.
“There. Better?” Blaine’s voice bore the faintest trace of amusement, and Kurt could not help but look back up at him, despite the burning desire to run away and find somewhere to bury himself.
Blaine was smiling at him, his head cocked to one side, one of his hands outstretched as if he was not sure Kurt could stand on his own and wanted to be able to catch him if he should fall. Hardly an unreasonable expectation, Kurt thought, given his record around Blaine.
“Colin, right?”
Kurt startled, then nodded.
“Well, Colin. You can make it up to me by buying me coffee. You probably need a refill for those anyway, right?” He gestured to the two now almost empty coffee cups in Kurt’s hands. Kurt nodded again. He could not for the life of him understand why Blaine was being so friendly. If somebody had doused him with hot coffee, he would not be so quick to forgive him. Well, maybe if they looked like Blaine.
They moved to the back of the queue, Blaine still dripping coffee and earning a harried look from one of the baristas as she swooped by with a bucket and a cloth to clean up the coffee Kurt had spilt. Kurt was glad that Blaine was at least wearing trousers so dark they would not stain from the coffee dripping from his shirt. He felt quite bad enough just ruining his shirt.
He ordered and paid and was then surprised when Blaine pointed to a small secluded table in the corner.
“Do you want to go sit over there?”
Kurt gaped unattractively. It had not occurred to him that Blaine might want to have coffee together. All thoughts of his homework forgotten, he blinked and then nodded again. Blaine smiled.
“Go on. You go ahead and I’ll bring the coffee.”
Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but then thought better of it. Perhaps it would be a stupid idea to insist that he could carry his own cup, given the circumstances. He shuffled over to the table, sat down and busied himself looking through his bag. He finally found what he was looking for just as Blaine had made his way over and set down two cups of coffee.
“Your coffee, Mr Hudson.”
“Who – oh, thank you.”
Blaine shot him another amused smile.
“Are you always this distracted?”
Kurt felt his blush return.
“Not usually, no. I reserve it for when I accidentally crush or spill coffee on hot people.”
He realised his mistake a second too late.
“Hot coffee on people! I meant ‘spill hot coffee on people’!”
His ears burned and out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaine bring a hand up to cover his wide smile. Hoping to distract him, Kurt fished out a towel and a clean shirt from his bag.
“Here, you can dry yourself off. And, you know, if you want to change. This should probably fit you. We’re about the same size, I think.”
Blaine looked surprised, but accepted the towel and shirt nonetheless. He came back from the bathroom looking a little cleaner and much more comfortable.
“That’s much better, thank you.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do after… you know.”
Blaine leaned across the table, cradling his warm cup in his hands, and his voice was warm and teasing when he next spoke.
“So do you always carry towels and a change of clothes in case you spill coffee on somebody?”
At this, Kurt managed a small smile.
“Believe it or not, but I’m not actually this clumsy normally. The shirt and towel, well, that’s just because I keep a spare set of clothes in my locker. I don’t like to leave it overnight, though, so I take it with me again when I go home.”
“I see. And you keep a spare set of clothes in your locker because…? No, don’t tell me. I’ve got it! You’re secretly a superhero and those are your ‘normal clothes’ that you keep to change into after another day of saving the Earth.”
Blaine threw him a wink and Kurt felt his stomach squirm and his kneecaps turn to jelly. He tried to keep a straight face, but it was considerably harder than normal.
“Damnation! You’ve rumbled me! For I am Gucci Guy, here to protect the people of the world against the evil schemes of my nemesis The Fashion Fiend!”
He struck a heroic pose.
At this, Blaine, who had been sipping his coffee, burst out laughing, nearly choking mid-sip and completely unaware that a small moustache of milky foam had formed on his upper lip. For some reason, this did nothing to calm the fluttering in Kurt’s stomach, so he smiled and continued.
“Actually, it’s not quite as exciting as that. It’s just a safety precaution, really. The jocks at my school like to throw slushies, and it’s very uncomfortable sitting through a whole day in wet, sticky clothes.”
“Slushies? Like those iced drinks? But… that’s really rude. Don’t the teachers say anything?”
So Kurt explained about the constant slushying and the locker shoves and how the teachers either did not care or were powerless to help. Blaine was very sympathetic and, it turned out, had been through something similar at his old school.
“But there it was mostly the artsy kids that got targeted. They tripped us, shoved us, called us names, locked us in the gym shed with all the sports equipment. Anything they could think of, really. They singled me out because I’m gay and that just made the whole thing worse in their opinion.”
Kurt was silent for a moment. He did not quite trust himself to speak because there was a fierce, wild celebratory dance going on in his head. Blaine was gay and it should not make him as happy as it did. He gave himself a little shake.

When they finally parted outside the coffee shop, they had been talking for almost two hours. Kurt knew, among many things, that Blaine was an only child, that he had transferred during his sophomore year due to bullying at his old school, that he loved music and theatre and that he, too, sang in his school’s glee club. He also had Blaine’s phone number and the promise that they would meet up the following Tuesday for another coffee date. He was practically skipping all the way to his car and only stopped smiling when he pulled up in the drive because his cheeks hurt a little. Not even the prospect of his looming homework assignment could dampen his spirits and, once inside the house, he greeted Carole with a toothy smile and a peck on the cheek. She chuckled.
“Someone’s happy today.”
“It was a good day. I… had some really nice… coffee.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure, honey. Why don’t you go wash up. Dinner’s in ten minutes.”
“Okay. What’re we having?”
“Oh, that chicken garlic thing your dad’s so fond of. Go on, hurry.”
“Mmh. Sounds lovely.”
“Oh, and Dave came by while you were out, but I told him you weren’t here.”
“Dave?”
“Yeah. That big guy. On the football team, I think. Anyway, I said I’d tell you and you’d call him when you got home.”
“A footballer? Wait… Dave Karofsky?”
“That’s the one. Now run along, Kurt, dinner’s almost ready.”
Kurt felt his blood run cold as he climbed the stairs.
What on earth did Karofsky want with him?