Stupid Tina, thinks Kurt exasperatedly. He taps his fingers impatiently on the tabletop, eyeing the door, and willing it to open and have an Asian girl with purple streaks in her hair wearing only black enter the Lima Bean. How could she "stand him up" like this? (Of course the stand in up is in quotations because Kurt has no interest in a more-than-platonic relationship with Tina as his sexual interests lie among body parts Tina doesn't have, but humor him, okay?) She is the one who wants to catch up, not him. She is the one who has been apologizing for the ridiculous amount of attention she has been dedicating to a certain Michael Chang, andshe is the one who wanted to meet him after school for coffee.

And now, she is nowhere to be found.

As a result of her flightiness regarding her commitment to her friends, Kurt is sitting pathetically at a table meant for two by himself with two cups of coffee and a forlorn biscotti meant to be shared. (He'd never actually do more than nibble the biscotti due to its high level of saturated fat, but he thought the gesture would be nice since Tina is trying to rendezvous and reunite and all, but sadly, he's been proven wrong. Biscotti or no biscotti, Miss Cohen-Chang is evidently not coming).

What makes everything so much more depressing is that during this cold, depressing winter time of year, the Lima Bean is packed. It seems as though the entire population of Lima stares dismally at the bleak sky outside and the greying snow and decides to relocate to the small coffee shop. The entire population minus Tina of course. Kurt glances over to what looks like a newly engaged couple making googly eyes at one another and has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes in disgust. He sees a mother making airplane noises as she spoons part of a cinnamon roll into her frizzy-haired daughter's mouth; a group of friends throwing chunks of croissants at one another; a girl happily curled up with a boy in a booth, both drinking hot chocolate as they pore over a book together.

And what is he? Not only single but evidently friendless too. This, quite frankly, please excuse his language, blows.

"Is this seat taken?" comes a polite voice that pulls him out of his reverie and his current state of wallowing in self-pity.

Kurt looks up, startled, to see a ridiculously good-looking boy with his hands clasped tight over a cup of coffee. The boy has tightly curled chocolate hair which is fiercely gelled down, creamy skin, full lips, clear skin, and beautiful, hazel eyes. He's wearing a navy blazer with a red crest emblazoned on one of the pockets. A thin blue and red tie rests over a white button down, and though the look is very prep-school and a bit stringent for Kurt's tastes, he approves of this outfit. The boy is warming his fingers by running his hands over the coffee cup and blowing on them sporadically, while looking at Kurt with a kind, gentle expression Kurt can't quite decipher.

Kurt realizes he hasn't answered.

"Of course not!" he nearly squawks. He eagerly tries to move Tina's cup of coffee on the table out of the way to make room for the handsome stranger. Maybe God is looking out for him in his quest for romantic interests; he'll have to reconsider his atheistic beliefs in a higher entity.

At least that's what he's thinking until his arm hits his own cup of coffee and it tips itself neatly into his lap.

Fortunately, he's been waiting long enough for Tina to show up so that the originally scalding beverage is now much cooler, but the pale brown color of his coffee immediatley seeps into his cleanly pressed Marc Jacobs blouse Mercedes claimed was oudated and his black leather pants he spent the morning ironing.

Kurt makes an intelligible noise which is a mix between a shriek of horror and a squeal of embarrassment. Neither of these sentiments are very attractive on him, and he feels himself turning pink.

He opens his mouth to fabricate a lie about how he must be going and to excuse him from his humiliating mishap in front of the gorgeous stranger, but to Kurt's surprise, the stranger is the one apologizing profusely.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the good-looking boy babbles as he steps forward and starts dabbing away at the coffee on Kurt's clothes with a handful of napkins. Kurt freezes as this handsome stranger is touching him, and it's not in a bad way at all. The boy's movements are deliberate and purposeful as he tries to salvage Kurt's clothes. "That's all my fault; I'm sorry I-"

He stops and stares at Kurt with a look of horror on his face as he realizes he's very close—physically, that is—to a person he doesn't even know. The boy makes a half-hearted effort to pull the napkins away from Kurt's shirt, and drops about half of the sopping wet napkins into Kurt's lap.

"No, don't apologize," Kurt replies in a flustered way, blushing now at the heap of wet napkins in his lap.

"I... I..." stammers the attractive stranger, and he promptly sits down in the chair across from Kurt. The boy screws the lid off of his own coffee cup and pours the whole drink on himself.

Kurt watches, transfixed, as the boy thoroughly douses himself in coffee. The brown liquid sloshes over the boy's dark blue blazer and over his pants. Kurt is thinking that he should be on his way because although he is gorgeous, this boy has to be certifiably insane.

"Good," the boy says, finally, when the last of the coffee is spread all over his clothing. His white button up is now stained tan. "Hello there, my name is Blaine." He extends a hand to Kurt. "And no, before you ask, I'm not crazy nor do I usually pour hot drinks on myself."

"You, you..." stammers Kurt, gesturing weakly to the coffee all over the table and the coffee dripping from Blaine's clothes.

"Yes," answers Blaine in a rather matter-of-fact way. "I wanted an excuse to talk to you, and I couldn't let you think I was the jerk who made you spill coffee all over yourself, could I?" He says this as casually as if he were asking Kurt what school he went to or what coffee he was drinking.

"Now," the crazy boy—Blaine—continues, "would you be opposed to telling me your name?"

"Kurt," Kurt manages to squeak, "Kurt Hummel. I go to McKinley High and in my free time, I enjoy movie marathons of my favorite Broadway classics, singing at the top of my lungs in my car, and bargain shopping at designer stores."

"Oh," quips Blaine, "it looks like we have quite a rarity here." He leans closer to Kurt and offers him a dazzling smile. Kurt notices how white and straight his teeth are, the redness of his lips, the darkness of his lashes and how well they frame his stunning eyes.

Kurt's head starts racing. Is Blaine flirting with him? Dear God, what is happening? He can't be, right? Kurt has about as much sex appeal as a baby penguin, and this well-dressed Adonis just showed up and Kurt just poured coffee on himself and instead of walking away in disgust, this stranger just poured coffee all overhimself?

"I go to Dalton Academy," Blaine continues. "I love it. I have a group of good—they're crazy, but they mean well—friends and I sing in a Glee Club known as the Warblers."

"I... I'm in a Glee Club too," manages Kurt. "The New Directions—I think we're going to be competing against you at Nationals." (The boy sings too? Is he dreaming?)

"Oh, so I'm conversing with someone from enemy lines," grins Blaine. Kurt spots a dimple on Blaine's cheek and nearly faints at how adorable it is. And though Kurt's never kissed a boy, he thinks he'd really, really like to kiss Blaine right now. He's quite astonished at the way his day has panned out, but the steady drip of coffee down his chest is a bit distracting.

"As much as I'm enjoying this conversation," Kurt replies, "perhaps we should both go change, go purchase some new beverages, and continue this talk in a drier setting?"

"I don't have a change of clothes," Blaine says, looking a bit surprised. He glances down at his blazer as though noticing that it's wet for the first time. "Do you?"

"I actually do," Kurt says, standing. He wraps a scarf around his neck, and Blaine follows him as he steps outside into the frosty air. Kurt walks over to his beautiful Cadillac Escalade, and reaches inside to pull out a bag of fresly pressed clothes, and then thinking it over, grabs a faded, slate-colored sweatshirt he thinks is Finn's.

"Here," he says, handing Blaine the sweatshirt. "This is my step-brother's—I think he left it in here when I drove him to school the other day, and while it's not ideal—I don't think Finn has realized that worn and ugly and comfortable is not fashion forward, it's warm. And it should be drier than what you're wearing right now, though—if I may say—your outfit seems a little bit stringent for a trip to the Lima Bean."

"It's my school uniform," Blaine answers, his cheeks flushing pink in the frosty air. "Dalton Academy. I think the ideal is to foster brotherhood and leadership and uniformity, but sometimes, I must admit, I find it rather stifling. I love bowties and I hardly ever get the chance to wear them."

Kurt's heart is racing in his chest. Bowties? Talented? Well-versed? Intelligent? Dear lord, this boy is perfect.

"Well, we should go change," Kurt tells Blaine as they re-enter the Lima Bean. Blaine holds open the door for Kurt, and Kurt almost turns beet red at the simple act of chivalry.

Kurt generously lets Blaine change first in the small one-room bathroom, and then steps in. He spends admittedly a little more time than necessary changing into his spare clothes—it's not the blouse and leather pants, but his marooon, cashmere Banana Republic sweater paired with his simple pair of white jeans will have to do. He styles his hair as well as he can with his emergency comb packed in his satchel, and heads out.

Blaine is waiting at the table they previously vacated, two brand new cups of coffee laid out and a scone and a biscotti lying on a plate in between the seats. Kurt studies him—Blaine looks devastatingly handsome even in Finn's oversized sweatshirt which basically bags over him, making Blaine look tiny. The sleeves of Finn's sweatshirt hang over Blaine's arms, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"It's really comfortable," Blaine says, "thank you. You're sure your brother will be okay with this?"

"Yes," Kurt finds himself replying as he sits down across from Blaine. "He has too many of these sweatshirts anyway, and I've been telling him that I'm going to burn his entire wardrobe one day, so maybe he'll assume that this article of clothing found its way into the inferno."

Kurt reaches for the coffee and takes a sip. The warmth of skim milk and cinnamon wash over him and he smiles contentedly.

"How much was it for the coffee?" Kurt asks, reaching for his wallet inside his satchel.

"It's on me," Blaine says, pushing Kurt's hands out of the way. "Don't worry about it."

"I—I don't want to... you don't have to," stammers Kurt. He feels himself turning pink with embarrassment.

"You can get it next time," Blaine interrupts him with a gentle smile.

Kurt's heart nearly does leaps and sips at the words "next time." Blaine wants to see him again. Oh my God. Is he on his first honest-to-God date?

"So who carries a spare change of clothes around anyways?" Blaine asks, tilting his head to look at Kurt, "Are you more accident-prone than you're letting on, Kurt Hummel?"

"Oh," Kurt flames red as he fiddles with the sleeve of his sweater. "Well, I hate to sound pitiful and tortured, but the resident, uneducated Neanderthals at McKinley have a special surprise this time of the year. Of course, it's always Slushee season at McKinley, but during the winter, the bullies like to pack snow into the Slushee cups before they throw them at us. It's good to be prepared, I suppose."

His eyes sting as tears well up as he remembers how it felt being slushied two days ago. The shock of ice and water mixd with the solid, dirty grey snow rushing into his face. His metallic sweater—completely ruined.

"I... I'm sorry," Kurt apologizes, noticing Blaine's expression. Blaine's expressive, dark eyebrows are knitted into his forehead in concern and his forehead is lined with worry. "You don't need to hear my sob story. Oh my, I'm playing the poor gay victim being downtrodden by narrow-minded members of society, and oh gosh, I'm rambling. I apologize so much for my lack of composure-"

"Don't." Blaine's voice is hard and firm, and if Kurt isn't mistaken, he also hears sympathy. "Don't... apologize, I mean, Kurt. I... I'm sorry," he manages, his voice sounding genuinely sad. "That's... awful."

"It's okay," Kurt shrugs absently. "I mean, it's difficult to be openly gay in conservative Ohio, but at least I'm being honest with myself. One day all of the bullies will be working for me," he continues loftily, "and I suppose I should listen to my father sometimes. He loves me, but he's always telling me I shouldn't go around asking to get thrown into dumpsters and Slushied."

"I... I know," Blaine looks at Kurt, his hazel eyes connecting with Kurt's eyes. "I know how hard it is being gay and being bullied. I'm fortunate enough to be at Dalton where there's a strict no-bullying policy, but before I transferred there, I was at just another Ohioan public school. And trust me when I say I know how bad it can get, Kurt," Blaine's voice breaks right now, and Kurt thinks with horror that Blaine might start to cry. "I'm sorry you have to endure that. It's unjust, and you are never asking for it... it's hard for people like us, I guess, and I'm hoping it will be better some day."

Kurt returns Blaine's even gaze. He's just learned that Blaine is gay, and he's just met him, but Kurt is reeling with the idea that there might be someone who understands him. And not someone far away in a gay-friendly state who can just boast the ideas of tolerance and acceptance, but someone here. Right here, with him.

"Well that's enough darkness for one day," Kurt says brightly, trying to lighten the mood. Blaine laughs, a full, rich chuckle that reminds Kurt of the chime of bells, and Kurt can't help but think he loves the way it sounds.

"Yes," Blaine replies. "So, tell me about your friends?"

Kurt launches into a tirade about the ill-dressed, impossible Rachel and fantastic Mercedes and the rather stupid but well-meaning Finn and all of the Glee Club members—stopping to go off on Tina and how he was stood up by a girl of all possible things, and Blaine tells Kurt about Dalton and boys named Wes and Thad and David. Kurt tells Blaine about his father and his garage and Blaine tells Kurt about his appreciation for Pink, and before they know it, it's getting dark and the Lima Bean is about to close.

"Let me take those," offers Blaine, grabbing Kurt's bag of stained clothes. "I'll pay for the dry-cleaning; it was all my fault anyway." Kurt protests and waffles, but Blaine is adamant. "You wouldn't have spilled the coffee if it hadn't been for me."

I wouldn't have had such a great time if I hadn't spilled the coffee on myself, is on Kurt's lips, but instead he lets Blaine take the bag.

They exit the Lima Bean and Blaine looks a bit wistfully at Kurt. "It... it was really nice meeting you, Kurt." He sounds almost bashful, and he looks down at the ground. A snowflake catches in Blaine's hair, and he brushes it out with a gloved hand.

"It was nice talking to you," Kurt replies, with the first real smile he's managed in awhile.

"I... do you think I could get your number?" Blaine blusters, flushing red. "I... I mean to call you when I get your clothes back from the dry cleaning and maybe to... I... you don't have to, I mean, I can-"

"Of course," Kurt answers almost automatically. He dictates his number to Blaine, and Blaine hurriedly punches it into his phone as though he's afraid to forget a single digit. They exchange an awkward hug in which Kurt realizes how much smaller Blaine is than him, and they soon part ways, Kurt dancing like a lovestruck teenage girl to his car.

Kurt's phone rings almost immediately after he gets behind the wheel of his car.

"Hello?" he answers breathlessly. He shakes some snowflakes out of his hair.

"Kurt?" Kurt hears the voice on the other end saying, smooth and slow like a brick of dark chocolate.

"Blaine?" Kurt replies, almost picturing Blaine on the other end.

"I just had to make sure you didn't give me a fake number," Blaine says apologetically and sheepishly. "I mean, sometimes Wes tell me I come on a little too strong."

"No, this is me," laughs Kurt, "you're good."

"I'm glad," says Blaine, and Kurt can picture Blaine with his dimples and his full smile and his expressive eyebrows sitting in his car. "Hopefully I'll see you soon, Kurt."

"I'd like that," Kurt replies honestly. "Bye Blaine."

"Bye," he hears the soft reply, and Blaine hangs up.

Kurt smiles, feeling warmth rush all through up his body. Perhaps he might not be single this time of year much longer.

Kurt's phone buzzes with a text, and he picks it up immediately, hoping it's from Blaine.

It's a text from Tina.

Kurt, I'm sooooooooooo sorry. Oh my God, I promise I'll make it up to you. We'll go catch a movie or I'll carry all your bags the next time we go shopping. Mike had a family emergency and he needed me to come over and I forgot about our meeting and I'm so so so so sorry forgive me please? ;'(

Kurt's fingers drift over the keyboard of his phone.

Tina, don't worry about it. Things ended up turning out pretty well.

His phone buzzes almost automatically after he sends his reply to Tina.

OH MY GOD IS THERE A BOY? Damn it, Kurt, next time I am coming for sure. Everything, NOW. Spill, Hummel. I want EVERY detail.