The coffee shop had been relatively quiet all afternoon; Kurt suspected a combination of the freezing cold and sleet that had been falling for hours had something to do with it. He’d sent Finn home just under three-quarters of an hour ago, leaving Brittany quietly cleaning the already sparkling tables and Santana moodily emptying the till. Kurt busied himself with cleaning the milk steamer. He pulled a face as he poured the lukewarm water out of the drip catcher, steam floating up around his face, accompanied by the pervading smell of sour milk. Then he quickly ran a damp cloth over it and replaced it, snapping the black plastic back into place.

Then he promptly dropped the cloth on the floor as the door burst open, bell jangling and wind rushing in. Santana raised her head from her splayed position over a tabletop, Brittany stopped scrubbing at a non-existent stain and Kurt looked on incredulously as a young man with wild, messy hair tried to wrestle the door shut. Eventually, the door groaned shut against the wind and he made his way across to one of the window booths where he deposited his armful of books.

Santana thumped her head back down on the table and Brittany finally decided that the table’s clean enough and she wandered over to Kurt, dragging the mop behind her. Kurt stooped to pick up the dropped cloth and when he straighten found himself face-to-face with their single customer.

“Hi”, he said, eyes bright and hair damp. “Can I get a grande hazelnut latte please? To have in. Oh and also one of those muffins.” Kurt forced a cheery smile onto his face.

“Sure. Would you like the muffin heated through or just as it is?” Their customer blinked.

“Oh, um, heated, please.” He asked and Kurt moved away from the counter, taking a cup down from the shelf. Brittany hovered at his elbow, blond hair trailing over her shoulder as he steamed the milk briskly.

“This is a really nice place,” Kurt turned. “I’ve never been in here; normally I go to Starbucks, but the sleet was too much.” Brittany looked at him, head on one side and a curious expression on her face.

“Your eyebrows are really triangular.” She said finally, the smiled when their customer clapped a hand to his forehead. “What’s your name?”

“Britt, babe, don’t be rude.” Kurt interjected, thumping the jug of frothy milk on the counter.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s Blaine.” Brittany nodded and opened her mouth to say something but Kurt breezed past her and slid Blaine’s coffee onto the counter.

“Okay…” he said, tapping the till touch screen with a pencil. “That’s $4.50, please.”

Blaine rooted around in his wallet for a few seconds, before producing a crumpled $5 note. He handed it over and Brittany unfolded it deftly, smoothing it out before she handed it to Kurt. “I’ll bring your muffin over in a few minutes.” Kurt said, handing over a small wooden block with the number 3 painted on it and a 50s73; coin. Blaine took them clumsily, juggling the full cup.

“Thanks!” He said brightly, picking his way carefully across the room and depositing them onto the table. Kurt turned away to put the muffin in the microwave, turning the dial round the two minutes before scrunching the plastic wrap up and chucking it vaguely in the direction of the bin. Suddenly Santana appeared out of nowhere, draping herself over his back and shoulder, hair falling like a perfumed curtain as she leant to whisper in his ear.

“He’s pretty cute.” Kurt groaned. “Minus the doofy glasses.” Kurt pushed her off him as the timer beeped.

“Santana, as much as I appreciate your help with my love-life, we all know how well it turned out last time you tried to help me.” He gingerly slid the muffin onto a plate and scooted past her. She scowled and followed him.
“Oh come on. One time! Okay so Josh wasn’t the greatest. So what? At least you got laid, Hummel.” He whirled around.

“Santana; my love life is not up for discussion in front of customers. Go and find something useful to do!” He turned on his heel and stalked over to the single occupied table. Blaine was looking at him with a slightly freaked-out look on his face. Kurt set the plate down with a sigh.
“My apologies; we’re a lot more laid-back in here than chain shops. But Santana’s not normally this irritating.” Blaine laughed and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“No sweat; doesn’t matter to me. The coffee’s great by the way.” He indicated the half-empty mug. “Much better than the stuff you get in Starbucks.” He shuddered. “And your tables are clean. Have you been in Starbucks; the tables are so, so sticky.” Kurt snorted.

“Well you can thank Britt for that; she thinks the tables are mirrors or something; hates it if they aren’t clean enough to see her face in.” Blaine, who’d been taking another mouthful of coffee, choked. Kurt waited for him to cough and thump his chest a few times before raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

“Problem?” Blaine shook his head.
“Oh, no, she just reminds me of my brother’s girlfriend; looks like her, too. I swear they could be twins or something.” Kurt nodded evenly.

“You must think I’m really weird, huh?” Blaine smiled ruefully.

Kurt paused. “Not really weird.” He conceded. Blaine burst out laughing.
“Is this how you treat all your customers, Mr…” He squinted at Kurt’s name badge. “Kurt.” He bit the ‘t’ on the end, popping it off his lips like bubblegum.

“No,” Kurt replied, taking the now-empty mug. “Just ones that can’t shut the door and laugh at clean tables.”

Blaine’s laughter rang through the shop, prompting Santana to poke her head around the corner of the kitchen, a lascivious grin on her face. Kurt pointed at her with the mug.

“Shut up.” She raised her hands.

“I didn’t say anything!” Kurt wandered over to the counter.

“No,” he agreed, dumping the mug in her hand. “But you wanted to. Now wash this up.” She glared at him and stalked into the kitchen, hair swishing behind her. A clatter caught Kurt’s attention and he turned his attention back to their sole customer.

Blaine was struggling to gather his numerous files together, glasses slipping down his nose. “You off?” Kurt called, polishing a glass. Blaine looked up.

“Yup, gotta get to the library; I’ve got mock finals this week and, I’ll be honest,” he sighed. “I’ve not done as much work as I should.” Kurt nodded sagely. “I’ll definitely come back here at some point; it’s way nicer than any chain.” He finally settled the mound of files in his arms. Brittany skipped over and opened the door, flinching as the wind howled in. Blaine sighed, waving awkwardly at Kurt with his elbow. Kurt raised a hand in return as Blaine reluctantly made his way back out into the cold.

Brittany forced the door closed and she shop fell into quiet. Kurt sighed and checked his watch. “You know what, Britt, Santana; it’s nearly four and we’ve been quiet for hours. Let’s just close up now.”

Santana cheered and plonked the now-clean mug back on the shelf. Kurt walked over to the previously occupied table to clear the plate when he caught sight of a folded slip of paper. He frowned and picked it up. It was addressed to him in curving script. Kurt unfolded it.

Hey, Kurt!
Just wanted to say, thanks again for humouring my weirdness – I swear I’m not always this goofy.
Kurt giggled and rolled his eyes.
And I’ve just realised how weird it is that I’m writing a note to a guy I don’t even know, so I’ll finish this quickly. I was wondering if I could take you for lunch somewhere next week? I’d really like to get to get to know you – you seem like an awesome guy. And I’m rambling now so I’ll shut up.
I’ve written my number at the bottom; if you want to, drop me a text sometime!
Blaine.

“What are you smiling at that paper for, Kurt?” Brittany called. He jumped and folded it up, slipping it in his apron pocket.

“Never you mind Britt; come on, I want to go home.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist, Hummel.” Santana snapped, flicking off the switches on the espresso bar as Brittany slipped the ‘Open’ sign over to ‘Closed’.

“Is the till empty?” He asked Santana, turning off the lights in the kitchen after giving it a cursory glance over.

“Yep. S’in that envelope.” She nodded to a brown envelope sitting on the counter. Kurt picked it up.

“I’ll get your pay to you tomorrow, Britt, Santana. You two can split the tip jar.” Brittany clapped her hands and tipped the handful of coins into her palm. Kurt fished his bag out from under the counter and untied his apron, rolling it up and stuffing it in. “Oh, remember it’s late-night shopping tomorrow so shifts are split. Which means you two can get a lie-in.”

“Oh thank fuck for that.” Santana cried. “I’m sorry Hummel; I don’t do seven am starts.”

“Remind me again how you managed in high school?” Kurt asked. She flapped a hand at him.

“Pshh; that was years ago. I’m old now.”

“It was three years ago!”

“Once you hit twenty a year is like a decade.” Santana shot back. “Look at me; I’m already getting wrinkles.”

Kurt laughed. “Oh don’t be so ridiculous.”

“I’m not – so are you. You’ve got crows’ feet.” Kurt swatted at her.

“I have not!” He marched over to the door, fishing his keys out from his back pocket. “Now out, both of you; come on. The rain’s let up.” Brittany meandered out, the long ears of her hat dangling over her shoulders. Santana followed suite, muttering under her breath.

“See you tomorrow lunch.” Kurt called over his shoulder as they walked off together. Santana waved in his direction and they turned a corner. Kurt stood up and pulled his collar up against the wind. He sighed, breath clouding in front of his face and pocketed the key. “Come on, Hummel.” And he hunched up his shoulders against the wind and began the long walk home.