"Here you go, buddy," Kurt smiled as he placed a small bowl of water in front of an excited Jackrussel. The two of them had stopped to sit on the stairs of the library and were quite ignored by everyone who walked by. Occasionally a child would point at the dog but were always dragged away by their parents who mumbled something under their breaths that Kurt chose not to hear.

"No, Thatcher!" he snapped with undeniable fondness taking the edge off his voice. The little dog tilted his head and blinked as if trying to steal someone's sandwich was perfectly acceptable. "I'll give you your dinner in a minute, okay?"

Thatcher yawned and curled up next to Kurt and the boy took that as a 'fine, whatever'. He scratched his friend's neck absentmindedly as he observed the people that walked, jogged, drove by. Every now and then a passing dog would catch Thatcher's attention and he wagged his tail lazily but didn't bother to get up to greet them. Much like how Kurt perked up whenever a good looking, lone boy would walk by but the fact that he never said anything had less to do with lazyness than it did with utter shyness.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" Kurt mumbled. "You up for the beach? You could chase some seagulls."

Yes, beach was a good idea. They could probably make it there before it turned dark. He could most likely find a good place to set up a camp for the night, even though he was pretty sure it would start raining at some point. The sun was out now and the there wasn't a cloud in sight but Kurt had learned to read the signs and this overly awesome weather would only last for so long.

"Fine, don't contribute to my ideas. I know you only stick with me for the food." Thatcher's head shot up at the sound of his favorite word. "Alright, you, here. Your turn."

Thatcher let out a 'woof' when Kurt fished a can of meat out of his green duffle bag. A few seconds later he was happily destroying his dinner and Kurt knew that for a few moments, Thatcher's world only consisted of him and his bowl.

He went back to people watching and his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw a boy around his age sitting on the edge of a fountain near by. The boy's hair was nicely curly and even from where he was at, Kurt could see he was sporting a rather attractive morning shadow. This stranger's attention was completely on the guitar he was holding in his lap and it appeared he was trying to tune it. A couple of seconds later he played a note, nodded his approval and stood up.

And oh, Kurt was not prepared for it when he started singing.

Of course, Kurt had seen many street performers in his life. Hell, he was kind of one himself. But wow, this boy was good. So good, in fact, that people actually stopped to listen. They didn't just throw dollar bills and annoying, left over change into his guitar case, they actually stopped to enjoy the boy's version of 'Teenage Dream'.

Kurt forgot his plans to go to the beach completely and clapped with everyone else when the boy ended the song. After a quick, high-spirited 'thank you', he started with another one but this one Kurt didn't recognize.

Thatcher finished his dinner and tried to snuggle his way to Kurt's lap but his owner was paying little to no attention to him at the moment. His eyes were glued to the singer and found himself mouthing along to the words of the songs he knew. Thatcher let out a quiet, annoyed whine and jumped against Kurt to lick him behind the ear but that only earned him a gentle pat to the head and an order to be quiet.

It could have been minutes or hours later, Kurt had no idea, but it wasn't until the little crowd around the performer had all gone and the singer was purchasing something from the moving hot dog stand that he realized the show was over. The bubble around him popped and he could suddenly feel Thatcher's annoyed eyes burning a hole into him.

"Sorry," he murmured. "But that was pretty amazing."

If dogs could huff, Kurt was sure Thatcher would have done just that. He was definitely quite unamused because Kurt had ignored him and proudly turned to look the other way when Kurt pulled him closer for kind of a hug.

Look the other way only to see something that caused him to bolt.

Food.

"Thatcher! Thatcher, wait, you little...!"

"Why hey, little guy."

Kurt's breath got stuck in his throat. Curse Thatcher and his bottomless stomach. The small dog was now sitting in front of the singing boy, wagging his tail as if they had always known each other. The reason he was acting so friendly was no doubt the hot dog that was oozing with ketchup.

Knowing the dog would follow this boy to the ends of the world for just a bite, Kurt got up. He'd only put Thatcher in the leash, whisper an apology and leave, that was the plan. A good, simple plan that would keep him out of trouble and embarrassing situations.

"I'm sorry," he said with his eyes glued to the ground when he reacher the two. "He's a little obnoxious sometimes."

"What? No, no, it's fine. He's real cute. What's his name?"

Kurt swallowed. "Thatcher."

"Thatcher. Yeah, it suits him. Hello, Thatcher! You want a piece? Can I give him one?"

"Uh... Yeah, sure. I mean, you don't have to, it's..."

"Can he do tricks? Like, play dead, roll, jump...? Oh, jump! You can jump. Okay, alright buddy! Want the hot dog? Come on, buddy, jump! That's it, good!"

Kurt's jaw dropped. His interaction with other people usually only included the words 'go' and 'away' and now this absolute stranger was eagerly feeding his dog treats in exchange of tricks.

"I'm Blaine, by the way."

Do not tell him your name, do NOT tell him your name, do not tell him your name, do. not. tell. him. your. na...

"Kurt."

Damn it.

And wow, now Blaine was looking straight at him. His eyes sparkled with a smile and general good mood that Kurt found to be rare these days.

"You live close by?"

Such an innocent question, wasn't it?

"Uh..." Kurt said and settled on gesturing to a general direction. "Sort of."

Blaine eyed him curiously. "Do you live anywhere?"

That could have been so offensive but somehow Kurt just knew Blaine didn't mean it like that at all. "I live in the city," he replied vaguely.

"In the city?"

"In the city. Like, I mean..."

"I know you what you mean."

Kurt paused. "...do you?"

"Yeah. I do."

And there it was. The brief moment of understanding that occurs between people that honestly do get it. Kurt felt a smile tug the corner of his mouth.

"You uh... Would you maybe want to have a coffee?" Blaine asked suddenly, nodding his head towards the cart he had got his hot dog from.

"I don't suppose they have non-fat mocha."

"Yeah, probably not but whatever they sell, it's still coffee, right? Liquid of gods."

Kurt should have refused, should have said that no, Blaine had earned his money and should use it for something better but two minutes later he was sitting on the edge of that fountain with a cup of hot, black liquid in his hands.

"Thank you," he said as he blew away some steam. "I can't remember the last time I actually got coffee."

"It is pretty good, isn't it?" Blaine said, taking a long sip of his own cup. "So, Kurt. How long have you had Thatcher?"

"Oh, a year or so," Kurt replied, glancing at the dog. "Followed me for the food he did. Still does, probably. Poor thing was starving when I found him. And now you're borderline fat. Yes you are, don't deny it."

Blaine chuckled and Kurt blushed as he realized he had been cooing. He put the paper cup to his lips to hide his embarrassment because damn, that wasn't something he wanted anyone to hear like... ever. "Do you play here often?" he asked to turn the attention away from him.

"More and more. I like to play here, it's not as busy as closer to the center and people have more time and patience."

"And do you usually play Top-40 songs from few years ago?"

"Those were the days when Top-40 was still actually consisted of good songs."

"We can argue about that..."

"Oh, don't tell me you were never into Lady Gaga." Kurt giggled. "Ha! I knew it."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they both drank a little more of their beverage. Thatcher was now lying between them, content after his dinner and the extra treats.

"So where exactly do you come from?"

That was the question Kurt had not expected and which he didn't want to answer.

"Why do you ask?"

"Out of general curiosity."

"There is no such thing."

"Hey, I'm just interested. Everyone has roots," Blaine said, putting his hands up in defense.

"Well, I dug mine up a long time ago," Kurt replied. "I... I think I should go." Blaine didn't say anything as Kurt tied a home-made leash losely around Thatcher's neck. Kurt wasn't sure if he wanted Blaine to stop him but he did know that he was already too friendly with this guy. It wasn't safe, he really should be more careful. "Thanks for the coffee. I hope I get to hear you sing sometime soon again."

He probably wouldn't, he knew, but he shouldered his bag and intended to just walk away without looking back...

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

Kurt stopped. "Only the world," he replied, shrugging as he turned around. Blaine bit his lip, frowning. "Your concern is really sweet, Blaine, but this is my life. I'm used to it. I'll see you around."

He took a step to leave, tugging Thatcher along when Blaine stopped him once again with: "It's gonna rain tonight."

"So we'll get a shower. God knows Thatcher needs one."

"Hey, wait," Blaine said when Kurt waved at him. The pale boy's instincts told him to do everything but wait but for whatever reason he found himself unable to move as he waited for Blaine to pack up his guitar. "Look, I know you have literally zero reason to trust me. I mean, we just met. But we're kind of in the same boat here, right? So isn't it natural that we try to help each other?"

Blaine's brown eyes were so kind and honest that Kurt felt himself melt on the spot. "...I guess?"

"I have a place. Well, not really a place," Blaine corrected himself when Kurt raised his eyebrows. "It's just... a kind of a shelter. Not a luxury hotel or anything but it's dry and reasonably warm. Me and a bunch of friends have made it as comfortable as possible and there's lots of room for you and Thatcher if you want a roof over your heads tonight. Or... any night."

Kurt stared. Out of a habit he looked down to his dog like he would have an instant answer to him but Thatcher was too preoccupied by a squirrel to provide any help. So Kurt looked up to meet Blaine's gaze again and considered his options. It'd be safe to walk away now and he could continue his life as if it had never been interrupted by Guitar Playing Blaine. But ... If he walked away now his life would probably never be interrupted by Blaine again. And that was the thought that made Kurt say:

"Your friends would be fine with us staying? The night."

Blaine's face broke into a smile. "Are you kidding? They'll claim Thatcher as their own the moment they set eyes on him! Trust me, they'll be excited to meet you."

"You sure?"

"Of course! The more the merrier. Come on now, we wanna make it home before the rain starts."

Kurt's heart jolted.

Home.

No, he thought to himself. Not home.

But he followed Blaine anyway.