Dinner was a noisy affair. Puck had invited himself over and spent most of the time roaring with laughter over something with Finn. Apparently, there had been an incident during football practice involving a stark naked Azimio, something called a ‘turducken’, which Kurt had absolutely no idea what might be, and eleven pairs of sweaty underpants. Kurt tried, unsuccessfully, to drown out their conversation, pondering if the teenage boy was in fact the most disgusting creature in the world and wondering what on earth Rachel and Quinn had ever seen in those two. Then he remembered his old crush on Finn during his sophomore year and inwardly congratulated himself on coming to his senses and developing a sense of taste since then. Finn was a great brother and had bonded well with Burt, but Kurt would never be able to think of him in a romantic way again, and listening to what he had apparently done to a turducken did nothing to change that. Honestly, it sounded completely vile, and Kurt knew how Finn always seemed to need reminding to go wash his hands after going to the bathroom, and how he sometimes got so absorbed in a video game that he forgot to shower. He made a mental note to always carry disinfectant and tissues, just in case.

Next to him, his father was telling Carole about one of his colleagues who had landed himself in hospital after falling from the roof of his house where he had been trying to unclog the chimney.
“And now he’s got a broken leg, a busted shoulder and a concussion, and his face looks like minced meat. I’m telling you; one of these days he’s going to break his neck if he’s not careful. Sarah’s got half a mind to leave him if he doesn’t start leaving these things to professionals. You’d think that with all the bad repair jobs we see at the garage, he’d know better, but the idiot – “

Kurt tuned him out. His mind kept going over what Carole had said. That Karofsky had come by, apparently looking for him. It made absolutely no sense. It could not have anything to do with school. They only shared one class, were not in study groups with each other, and Karofsky had plenty of cronies to go to for the class notes. Kurt would definitely be his last choice. They shared no extracurricular activities either, apart from Kurt’s short spell as a kicker on the football team and the forced bonding exercise that had the entire football team join glee club for a week and perform a mash-up during half-time.
They did not even have any friends in common. The closest to a shared friend would be Finn who, as a football player, did at least talk to Karofsky a little, but even that was a bit of a stretch because, brothers or not, Kurt and Finn still hung out with different groups of people. Finn talked to the footballers, some of the cheerleaders and was surrounded by the boys from glee, whereas Kurt kept to himself a little, preferring to spend time with Mercedes, Rachel and Tina. He liked the boys well enough, but they simply belonged with a different crowd.
In fact, the only thing Kurt and Karofsky did share was a mutual dislike for each other. Karofsky treated Kurt with the thinly veiled disgust he had become so used to expect from the hockey players and, before Finn and the other glee boys had intervened, the football players as well.
There was absolutely no reason for Karofsky to seek him out, no explanation for why he should suddenly want to talk to Kurt of all people.
There was a loud roar of laughter and Kurt looked up to see Puck miming something, waving his arms around and Finn guffawing, breathless, the chicken drumstick in his hand forgotten.
It must have been Finn, Karofsky had come to see. Yes. It was probably something about football or turduckens, whatever they were. It was the only explanation. Carole must just have misunderstood or misheard him. Yes, that must be the reason.

The next couple of days at McKinley, Kurt was haunted by a strange creeping sensation. If it had not been for Carole’s comment, he probably would not have noticed, but now it was as if his senses had been sharpened somehow. Something about Karofsky was… off. He could not put his finger on it, but it seemed that every time he turned around, Karofsky was looking at him. Whenever it happened, Karofsky would turn his head with a jolt or turn around completely and start walking in the opposite direction. It made Kurt feel distinctly uneasy, especially because it only ever happened when he was alone, so he could not ask Mercedes or Rachel if they had seen too. He considered making sure to always walk to class with Mercedes, Rachel or Tina, but then dismissed the idea, telling himself that he was starting to get a little paranoid, imagining Karofsky popping up around every corner. It was probably brought on by his experience in the parking lot. Either that or Karofsky was trying to intimidate him in some new way and Kurt Hummel was simply too fabulous to let a Neanderthal of a jock get to him like that. So he ignored it.

Fortunately, he had enough to focus on that ignoring Karofsky was relatively easy. He still had not finished his long assignment about adjective clauses and his homework from his other classes was piling up as well. What really distracted him, however, was something else entirely.
Mercedes had caught him sending a surreptitious text under the table during home economics and, later, waiting for Mr Schuester to arrive in glee, had caught him again, mid-text. Before he had had time to register anything, she had taken his phone away to sneak a look at the display.
“Blaine. Who’s Blaine?”
“Nothing! He’s nobody! Give me my phone back, Mercedes.” But something in Kurt’s voice had given him away. Mercedes’ face had split in a wide grin and she had danced around to avoid Kurt’s frantic, grabbing hands.
“Well if he’s nobody why did you put a little heart next to his name?” She had giggled at his blushing face. “And he’s certainly very sweet of a nobody, don’t you think? I mean; ‘Never mind them. You are an amazing person and if they can’t see that, then it’s their loss’! How sweet.”
He had finally managed to snatch his phone back and, with threats of bodily harm, had convinced Mercedes to be quiet. She still had not stopped asking about Blaine, however, and in the end, he had given up.
“He’s… he’s a boy I met a couple of days ago. He’s actually the same boy I told you about. The boy from the bookshop.”
Mercedes’ eyes had widened.
“The boy whose father…”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Then, she had smiled again, a little mischievously.
“Is he cute?”
“Mercedes!” Kurt had felt his cheeks and ears flare up again and Mercedes had shot him a shrewd look.
“I seem to recall something about him being ‘gorgeous’. And nice too, now that I think about it. Are you seeing him?”
Kurt’s blush had been positively alarming at that point and he had made frantic hushing noises that had done nothing to deter Mercedes.
“Well? Are you seeing him? He says that he’s looking forward to Tuesday. What happens on Tuesday? Oh! Are you going on a date?”
“No! I mean yes! I mean… Just as friends! It’s just a coffee date!”
“Oh, please! That boy likes you. Just look at what he writes.”
Luckily, the arrival of Mr Schuester had spared him having to come up with an answer and Kurt had let out a sigh.

The problem was that now that Mercedes had pointed it out to him, Blaine’s texts did seem very friendly, full of flattery and downright flirty sometimes. Kurt tried to take them at face value, but it was very difficult with Mercedes winking at him from across the classroom or throwing him a knowing smirk whenever she caught him checking his phone. He could even hear her voice in his head at home and his ears would turn red so often that Carole had sent him a couple of worried looks.
Tuesday had arrived, bringing with it the coffee date with Blaine, and Kurt had passed the day in a state of tingly nerves. He had been on the verge of texting Blaine and cancelling three times until Mercedes had grabbed him by the arm and told him to pull himself together. After all, he had already buried Blaine in books and spilt coffee on him, so what more could possibly go wrong? This had calmed him down, strangely, and he had left for the Lima Bean with a nervous smile on his face.
He need not have worried. Blaine was as charming and cheerful as ever, and Kurt could have sworn he had even looked a little nervous when he had entered the coffee shop. They talked and talked about singing, poetry, their favourite movies, what they would do if they were rich and whether or not the wizened old woman at the table by the window was checking Blaine out. Kurt insisted that she had had her eye on him since he had sat down and Blaine blushed into his coffee.

When at last they had to go, they agreed to make it a regular thing. They would meet every Tuesday for coffee at the Lima Bean and Kurt half-joked that he would always bring a towel and a spare shirt in case he felt the need to throw some more coffee at Blaine. The laugh that followed this left Kurt floating all the way to his car and home.

Even the looming form of Karofsky popping up everywhere during school could not dampen Kurt’s spirits. He had managed to have a conversation with Blaine that did not start with him burying him in books or dousing him with coffee and it was an exhilarating feeling. What was more, Blaine kept up a steady stream of texts that he was hard pressed not to answer despite knowing that texting in class could get him his phone confiscated if he was not careful. On Wednesday, Mercedes hunted him down to interrogate him about the date.
“It wasn’t a date, Mercedes! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Whatever, white boy. I don’t care what you want to tell yourself, but you’re practically dancing around the place. Just before you were actually smiling at Karofsky! So spill!”
So Kurt spilled. He told her how Blaine had ordered a plate of biscotti and told him to help himself, and how, when Kurt had refused politely, but was still unable to look away from the plate, he had laughed, taken one and dunked it in his coffee and insisted Kurt eat it. Mercedes nearly fainted.
“He fed you cookies? In public?”
“Yes… Why?”
“Why! Kurt, when one person feeds the other some of their food, it’s a date! It’s like a rule or something!”
And there was no convincing her otherwise.

Kurt’s happy bubble finally burst on Friday. He was on his way to glee after a long day of some of his least favourite subjects when he looked up from his phone, where a new text from Blaine had just announced itself with a faint ‘ding’, to see Karofsky standing outside the choir room, leaning against the wall. For some reason, this set something off. He was tired of Karofsky popping up everywhere like a menacing shadow, silent but always there.
He squared his shoulders, met Karofsky’s eyes with his chin high, and marched into the choir room, where he was met with the low hum of conversation. He stalked over to where Finn was talking to Mike.
“Finn. I don’t know what Karofsky wants with you, but can you please go outside and talk to him? It’s driving me nuts!”
Finn looked mildly confused, but got to his feet and left. Kurt let out a breath of air and went to take his seat between Puck and Mercedes, who gave him her usual smile and proceeded to pump him for more information about Blaine in a whisper.

It was not until dinner that Kurt remembered something. If Karofsky wanted so badly to talk to Finn, why had he not just pulled him aside outside the choir room? Or perhaps Finn had already gone in when Karofsky arrived. But then why had he not just gone in and asked Finn to step outside with him?
Almost as if he could read his mind, Finn chose this moment to say through a mouthful of mashed potatoes: “I don’t know what’s going on with Karofsky. I mean, I talked to him today, but he didn’t really seem to want to talk at all. And that day he came by the house, too. We just talked about football for a while, but he didn’t even stay to watch the match.”
Kurt stared.
“You were home when he came here?”
“Yeah, dude. I had a mountain of homework and that duet to work on.”
“Oh, right.”
Carole looked up from her plate, her brows knit.
“But Kurt, honey, didn’t he want to talk to you? I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”
“Yeah. I… guess he did.”
Kurt looked back at Finn and found his own confusion and unease mirrored in his eyes.