The bad weather had continued through the night. Kurt had suffered two roof leaks and his boiler was whining unhappily when he woke up at half six for a shower. The late shopping shift had been as manic as he’d expected; their shop was nearly over whelmed with customers; he’d had to call Santana to come in early plus he’d snapped twice at Rachel when she’d only opened her mouth to speak. The result had been an angry Finn, sulky Rachel and a harried Kurt closing up shop at quarter past nine at night. Kurt had forced himself home and had flopped face-first onto his bed and slept solidly though until midday.

He’d sat up in a panic until he remembered that it was a Sunday and the shop was closed. He’d made himself scrambled eggs for breakfast and ate them in the draughty window seat, wrapped up in a worn, stretched jumper. Then he’d dragged himself out of the house to go for a walk.
The sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds by the time he made it to the large park near his apartment. He’d stopped in Starbucks on the way there, mainly for a coffee, but also just to test Blaine’s claim of sticky tables.

“Ugh he was right, he was right.” Kurt grumbled, wiping his fingers on the hem of his pea coat.

The park was quiet; only a few dog walkers and the occasional runner. He settled on a slightly damp park bench, cupping his hands around the cardboard cup. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the curved back of the bench. The air was alive with the sounds of the city; birds tweeting ad flitting in and out of trees, the hum of a police helicopter, screams from a children’s play area across the park and above it all, a steady roar of traffic in the distance.

“Hey!” Kurt was jolted out of his daydream. “It is Kurt, right?” Kurt sat up, blinking in the watery sunlight. Blaine stood in front of him, dressed in a sweat-damp t-shirt and joggers.

“That’s me, Blaine, right?” Kurt rubbed the back of his neck and put his coffee cup down on the bench next to him and flexed his fingers. Blaine stood awkwardly in front of him for a few seconds, breath fogging around his face like smoke. Kurt cleared his throat. “You do this often?” He indicated Blaine’s running clothes. Blaine nodded, shifting his weight onto his left foot, hands on his hips.

“Uh huh, every Sunday; it’s the only chance I get to, you know, get out.” Kurt nodded in understanding.

“I was just about to get some breakfast,” he lied, standing up and brushing creases out of his coat. “Feel like joining me?” Blaine grinned.

“You know this isn’t exactly what I meant when I said I wanted to take you out for a meal. Look at me.” He indicated his damp t-shirt. “Not exactly at my most attractive right now.” Kurt snorted.

Blaine looked mortified. “Not that I meant I always-” He cut himself off. “Look, how about lunch instead? I know this great Greek restaurant about five minutes from here. I won’t come in a tracksuit, I promise.”

“Okay,” Kurt agreed amiably. Blaine fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know what time. Do you… need mine?” He looked up at Kurt half-expectantly. Kurt swallowed.

“Ah, no, I don’t.” Blaine grinned and Kurt smiled back. No way was he going to admit that as soon as he got home he’d spent all evening agonising over whether-or-not he should text. Kurt reeled off his number and Blaine carefully typed it in. Kurt’s phone vibrated a second later and he flipped it open.

:)

Blaine swiftly re-pocketed his phone. “So, um, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Blaine replied evenly. “Anyway, I’d better get home, see you Kurt!” Kurt waved as he jogged off, waiting until her rounded the corner before allowing a huge grin to spread over his face. He scrambled for his phone.

“Rachel oh my god you will not believe what just happened…”

Half an hour later, Kurt was gathering up a pile of paid bills on the coffee table in his tiny living room when he was disturbed by a frantic pounding on his door. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, alright.” He heaved himself off the sofa.
Unsurprisingly, it was Rachel, wrapped up in a bright pink coat. She barged past him into his apartment. “Oh yes do come in Rachel, make yourself at home why don’t you?” He groused.

“Shut up Kurt. You have to tell me everything. I can’t believe you haven’t already!” Kurt raised an eyebrow imperiously.

“I don’t remember you telling me about Matt.” She gulped. “I heard it from Santana of all people.” She looked away, fiddling with the sleeves of her coat.

“Yes, well, he was a mistake. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about me.”

“For once. “ Kurt interrupted and she smacked his arm.
“I want to know about this Blaine. Where did you meet him? What’s he like?” Kurt took hold of her elbow.

“How about I make some tea, and yes I have that weird decaf stuff you drink, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Five minutes later found Rachel curled up against an arm of the sofa while Kurt sat cross-legged on the faded armchair, both nursing steaming mugs.

“So come on, then.” She encouraged, taking a sip of tea.

“Well,” Kurt began. “I met him on Saturday; the shop was really quiet because of the rain and I was honestly thinking about shutting up early when he burst in.” He gazed into space. “He looked a dreadful mess; he was soaked and his hair was all windswept and his eyebrows were humongous. But he was so… earnest.” He took a long sip of tea before speaking again. “Anyway, he stayed in the shop for just under an hour, then he left a piece of paper with his number on it, asking if I wanted to go for lunch.”

Rachel ‘awwed’ and Kurt scowled at her, but his eyes were smiling. “And I met him this morning, by accident, in the park. He was out running.”

“What’s he look like?” Rachel pressed, leaning forwards expectantly.

“He’s got this… wild curly hair. Honestly I want to cut it. And like I said; huge eyebrows and ridiculous eyes. I swear they freaking sparkle. He’s like a puppy.” Kurt took a mouthful of tea. “All I know really is that he’s taking finals this year. I don’t know what in. Or where.”

“Where are you going on this date?” Rachel asked eagerly.

“It’s not a date Rachel; he said he wants to get to know me because, I quote: ‘I seem like an awesome guy’.” He looked up from his mug to find Rachel staring at him with
an incredulous expression on her face.

“I hate to break it to you, Kurt; but that is a date. And you need to get ready!” She cried, sitting up and yelping as tea sloshed over her fingers.

“He hasn’t texted me yet, Rachel; who knows it might be a joke.” I sure hope not.

“Oh Kurt; come on, don’t be ridiculous.” As if on cue, Kurt’s phone vibrated from where it lay on the coffee table. He snatched it as Rachel lunged for it, holding it out of her reach.

Hi Kurt!
I’m home now; would 1:30 be a good time for you?

Kurt bit his lip to keep himself from grinning to widely. He quickly typed out a response.

Sounds good!
Where should I meet you? The bandstand?

He stood up. “Rachel, I have half an hour to get ready; you need to go, preferably now.”

“But can’t I help you get ready?” She protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m perfectly capable of getting ready by myself. I think you’ve forgotten I was the most fashionable in school.” She sighed, heaving herself off the sofa.

“Oh fine, fine. Spoilsport.” She checked her watch. “I have rehearsal this afternoon at any rate, so I’ll see you later.” Kurt ignored the painful jolt in his chest and gave a wan smile, pushing her out the door. She whirled around and prodded his chest. “Call me when you get back; I’ll come round for Chinese and you can tell me about your date.” She waggled her eyebrows and Kurt shut the door in her face.

His phone vibrated again and he snatched it up.

Sure! See you in twenty minutes.

He nearly dropped the phone. “Twenty minutes? Shitshitshit.” And he bolted out of the living room.