Blaine’s solitude didn’t last very long. It was hard to miss the door to the house banging open, and the loud laughter coming from outside his room. He hadn’t lived there that long, just since the beginning of summer, and he honestly didn’t mind his roommate. Santana was rough around the edges, to be sure, but she was also a breath of fresh air from time to time. To say she was blunt was an understatement, but she seemed to understand what Blaine needed most of the time. It was a relationship he hadn’t expected, but was glad to have. Most days, at least.

There wasn’t much about the situation that he had expected, actually. He’d never imagined that his first roommate after moving out of his parents’ house, his first roommate would have been a girl. His parents were fairly conservative, traditional, and he’d been shocked when they mentioned her name. The fact that his potential roommate was a her. Then it’d become clear that they seemed more comfortable with him living with a girl because obviously nothing was going to happen between them, and he didn’t know how he’d been surprised at all.

“Hey Blaine, we’re going to order some pizza. You in?” she called through the door, knocking on it as if just asking the question wasn’t enough. He reached over to turn off his music before rolling out of bed and padding over to the door.

“Pizza?” he asked, pulling the door open and leaning against the frame. “And who’s we?”

“Me and Brittany,” she said, and Blaine’s brow furrowed.

“Who’s Brittany?”

“Um, I am,” another unfamiliar voice said. Brittany was much quieter than Santana, for which Blaine was thankful. “I’m standing, like, right here.”

“He can’t see you, Brit.”

“Why?”

“He’s blind.” Blaine felt his face turning red, and he wished he could just shut the door and disappear back into his room unnoticed.

“Oh.” There was a pause, then soft, unfamiliar hands grabbed his own and all of a sudden they were on a face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, slightly panicked, pulling them back as quick as he could.

“Well, you’re blind, so I thought you’d want to touch my face,” Brittany said simply, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “That’s how it works, isn’t it? Or did you want to touch my boobs instead? Is that a thing?”

“No!” Blaine and Santana said in unison, and he was glad that at least she was on his side.

“But how is he going to know what I look like?” Brittany asked with a huff.

“Blaine, she looks like a Skipper doll, but like a million times better,” Santana said, and that made Blaine smile. Compliments weren’t exactly the easiest thing to get out of Santana, so just from that he could tell that she actually liked Brittany. “Come on, yes pizza or no pizza? I’m hungry and I’m not waiting all night for you to make up your mind.”

“Yes pizza,” he said, rubbing his face a little. “Just no onions or anything gross on it?”

“What, no requests for extra sausage?”

“Santana.” He was glad his hand was still on his face, because he could only imagine the joy she would get out of seeing his expression. “No, just… whatever.”

“I just want cheese and pepperoni!” Brittany piped up, and Blaine found himself so glad she was there to miss Santana’s innuendos and just keep them on track for pizza toppings.

“Cheese and pepperoni sounds perfect,” he said, dropping his hand and nodding.

“Mkay, I’ll order some cheesesticks too and then we’ll be set,” Santana said, and she and Brittany wandered away. Or at least, Blaine thought Brittany had gone with her until he felt her hand slip into his.

“Come on, let’s go sit on the couch,” she said, tugging on his hand lightly.

“Um, okay.” He trailed along with her, and sat down on the couch. She flopped down beside him and draped her arm around his shoulders, her legs propped up over his lap, and he just sat there stunned as she nestled up against him. Physical affection wasn’t exactly something he was used to, especially from strangers, and he wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was. It wasn’t that he minded, he just didn’t know what to do.

“So how long have you been a bat?”

“I… what?”

“How long have you been a bat?” Brittany repeated, a little slower as if that would make her question seem less ridiculous. It did take him a minute, but then he understood.

“Oh. How long have I been b-blind?” he asked, faltering as she fussed with his bow tie.

“Right.”

“Um, a little over a year and a half?” he said, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Oh, so not for always!” Brittany sounded pleased about that, for some reason. “We were going to watch a movie when the pizza got here, did you want to choose?”

“It really doesn’t matter,” Blaine said, shaking his head. It wasn’t like he’d be able to see it anyway.

“Well I was thinking maybe you could choose,” Brittany said, smoothing down the front of his sweater vest. “Cause if it’s something you know, then it’d almost be like you could see it! Right? Or can you not see stuff in your head, either?”

“No, I can see stuff in my head,” Blaine said, and he caught her hand, giving it a light squeeze. He wasn’t one to make quick judgments of people, though he found it hard not to when he only had limited amounts of information to work with, but Brittany seemed like a genuinely sweet person. At least, it didn’t seem like she was asking him questions just because – she just was actually curious. Plus, if she looked like a Skipper doll, he could only imagine how adorable she was. “How about you pick out a few and then let me know which ones they are and I’ll pick from those? That way it’ll be something everyone wants no matter what.”

“Okay!” She kissed his cheek and was off the couch before he had a chance to react. Blaine didn’t know how often she was going to be around their house but if the first five minutes with her were any indication, he was going to need to get used to being touched. He carefully straightened out his bow tie, from how she’d messed with it, and almost jumped out of his seat when she shrieked. “THERE’S A DOG. BIG SCARY DOG!”

There was the thundering of footsteps down the stairs and then Santana came bursting into the room, stopping almost immediately once she was through the doorway. “Fuck, don’t do that Brittany! I thought something had actually happened.”

“There is a scary dog,” Brittany whimpered, and Blaine felt horrible. He knew not everyone liked dogs, and that some people were scared of dogs, and he didn’t blame them at all. He’d never been a big fan of them before, but Roscoe was so amazing that he tended to forget about that. It didn’t help that Roscoe was kind of a scary dog, if someone didn’t know him. German Shepards came with a stigma attached, but his German Shepard happened to be as docile as could be.

“It’s okay, Brittany,” he said, chewing on his lip. “Roscoe’s really nice.” He snapped his fingers so Roscoe would come over, leaning up against his legs as he sat at his feet. “I know he looks kind of scary but he’s just a big teddy bear. You can pet him if you want, I’ll hold onto him.”

“Yeah, he’s an alright dog,” Santana offered, which Blaine knew was as close to support as he was going to get from her.

“He looks like a police dog,” Brittany said softly.

“I told you to stop watching those cops shows,” Santana said with a light snort, and then she headed off into the kitchen. He kept his hand on Roscoe’s collar and scratched under his chin a little.

“He’s never ever hurt anyone, I promise.” Blaine said, and he heard Brittany shuffling around a little and moving back closer to him.

“Promise?” she asked, sitting beside him on the couch. He nodded, and she leaned across him to reach out and run her fingertips lightly against Roscoe’s fur.

“His ears are really soft,” he whispered, like it was a secret. “And he loves it when people scratch right behind them. He’d probably be your friend forever if you did that.” Brittany moved her hand up and did as he’d said, which made Roscoe’s tail thump against the floor happily, and she sighed.

“Okay, he’s not so scary,” she said, her fingers still working against Roscoe’s fur. “But he looks really scary. Is he a helping dog? I’ve seen those before, but I’ve never touched one. I didn’t think you were supposed to.”

“He’s... well yes, a helping dog,” Blaine said, loosening his hold on the collar. He’d just started explaining to Brittany about him when Santana came back in and sat on the other side of Brittany, pulling her away from Blaine.

“Still scared of the dog?” she asked, and Blaine turned his head as he patted Roscoe on the side.
Brittany was different, and not just in how she talked or acted, but in how Santana talked to her. He’d never heard that tone of softness, almost affection, from his roommate before. Usually when she brought friends home, it was all sharp tongued and cutting, no matter how much she said she liked them. He’d heard more insults and harshness out of her in their brief time living together than he had in almost the entire last year of his life. She said it came from a place of love, and he didn’t doubt that she meant that in her own way, but still.

He actually didn’t mind it too much when she was rude to him or said something that, from anyone else, normally would have sent him into a downward spiral ending in a completely bad day. It was because she was Santana, and that was her way of treating him like everybody else. So when she was short with him, or called him Stevie Wonder, or anything like that, more often than not he could just smile and shrug it off, chalk it up to the fact that she actually liked him or she wouldn’t have bothered.

So that was how he ended up spending his evening on the couch with the two of them, Mean Girls playing on the television, and pizza all scarfed down. He’d had to stop Brittany from giving some cheesesticks to Roscoe, but that had been the only misstep. She’d ended up stretched all across the couch and them, her head in Santana’s lap and legs strewn across Blaine’s. It hadn’t started out that way. She’d curled up against him and nuzzled into his shoulder before Santana tugged her over and she’d laid down entirely.

If anyone had told Blaine that he would spend the first Friday night before his freshman year of college trying to fend off cuddles from a girl he’d just met, he never would have believed them. It was nice, though, and by the time he went to bed he was convinced that the day couldn’t have gone any better, except for one small thing.

He should have gotten Kurt’s number.

* * *

Getting ready in the morning was a practiced skill. Showering and making sure not to use any of Santana’s things had been a game of luck and chance at first, but then he’d made sure to keep all his things in one place so he was sure not to accidentally end up smelling like warm vanilla sugar and lavender. It was absurd how similar the bottles for her products were to his, and he’d even taken the precaution to wrap rubber bands around his so he could make absolutely sure he was getting the right things. Just that little texture around the bottle was enough to help. She hadn’t seemed to care that he’d used her stuff, but he didn’t exactly want to smell like her all day. He’d much rather smell like himself.

Blaine’s clothes were all organized very specifically, so he could make sure everything matched appropriately. He’d made the mistake of asking Santana if he looked alright once and she’d informed him that he looked like a preppy hobbit from the fifties, so he didn’t plan on doing that again. He liked his style. He knew it was different than most, he’d been able to see that clearly before he’d lost his sight, but he liked it. It suited him, he thought. Plus he considered it a great asset that he could tie bow ties, because not many people could those days. It was the little things.

By the time he left the house and headed for Java Central, he’d spent far too long making sure the part in his hair was straight and that his curls weren’t completely out of control. When he’d walked past her in the living room, Santana had made a sleepy sounding comment about how his hair looked like a helmet. He couldn’t really help that, though. When his hair was in its natural state, he had no idea what it would look like. It could be sticking out all over the place and crazy and horrible looking, curly and wild. Keeping it slicked down was a reassurance for how it would look, and he liked having that control over something.

The cafe was noisier than usual when he walked in, conversations happening on all sides as people tried to talk over the sounds of the hustle and bustle going on behind the counter. His grip tightened on Roscoe’s harness, and he briefly considered going back to the house and getting some coffee there. It wasn’t like they didn’t have any, and it would save him the money. But convenience wasn’t the reason he went to Java Central in the first place. It was comfortable, someplace he knew and loved, with people who were nice and genuine and seemed to like him almost as much as he liked them. That interaction with them in the morning was sometimes the best part of his day, so skipping over that seemed like wasting what was always an opportunity for a bright start to the day.

“Good morning, Blaine Anderson.” He bit his lip as he tried to recover from being so startled, but he hadn’t expected anyone to talk to him until he’d gotten to the counter and he really hadn’t expected Kurt to be there.

“And to you, Kurt Hummel,” he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I figured I might see you here,” Kurt said, adding quickly, “not that I was sitting here waiting or anything that makes me seem like a stalker. I just really wanted a mocha.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that you’re stalking me,” Blaine said, practically grinning. “I mean, it wouldn’t be that difficult to do.” He had no idea what it was about Kurt that made him say thing that could easily be construed as playful or even flirty. He’d never considered himself a flirty person, and he hoped that he wasn’t coming off all flippant or coy, there was just something about Kurt that made him comfortable enough to say things without really thinking about them. Whether that was entirely good or not, he wasn’t sure.

“Well now you’re just going to think that even more, because I got you your coffee,” Kurt said sheepishly, and Blaine’s cheeks flushed.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know what time orientation stuff starts today so I figured you’d be coming in sooner rather than later, and it started to get crowded so I figured it would save you some time, and if you didn’t show up, I had an extra coffee to take with me for some else, worst case scenario.” Kurt spoke so matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t just done something that was actually special. Blaine was practically floored. “Oh God, I’m freaking you out, aren’t I? You really do think I’m a stalker.”

“Nonono,” Blaine said quickly, shaking his head, having found his voice again. “I just... that was really nice of you, Kurt. I don’t remember the last time anyone did something like that for me. Thank you.”

“So you’re not opposed to walking to campus with me then? No restraining order necessary?”

“No restraining order necessary,” Blaine repeated in affirmation. He started to turn to go back out the door, but a shout from behind the counter stopped him.

“Blaine, don’t you dare!” It was Tina’s voice, and there were quick footsteps coming toward them. He couldn’t figure out what he’d been doing that had been so objectionable, but then he felt Roscoe’s tail thumping against his leg. Right. “Just because someone got you your coffee already, you think you don’t have to wait around so Roscoe can get his treat...”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Blaine said sheepishly. It was true, he’d just been thinking about Kurt. How Kurt had been there waiting for him. How Kurt had gotten his coffee so he wouldn’t have to wait in line. How he was going to walk down to campus with Kurt. It was shameful, really.

“Mhmm.” Tina sounded amused, and she touched his arm lightly for a moment as she straightened up from where she’d been crouched by Roscoe. “Okay, now you are free to go. Have a good day!”

“That dog has everyone wrapped around his paw, doesn’t he?” Kurt asked as they walked out onto the sidewalk and headed down the street.

“He really does,” Blaine said with a chuckle. “It’s a talent of his.” They paused at the corner to wait for the light to change, and he tilted his head a little. “May I have my coffee?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” Kurt said, and Blaine held out his hand expectantly. The handoff was a little awkward, Kurt clearly wanting to make sure he had a good grip on it before he let go, and Blaine had to try and fight off the urge to blush when their fingers kept brushing against each other.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking a long sip to hide his grin. It was just the right drinking temperature, which meant that Kurt had to have been sitting there waiting for at least five to ten minutes, because that’s usually how long it took before Blaine was able to drink his coffee every morning. Once again, he felt overwhelmed by the gesture. No one did those types of things for him, least of all people who he’d just met and barely knew. Kurt really was something else.

“Be glad you missed the travesty that was Sex at Seven last night,” Kurt said as they crossed the street. “Oh man, it was a mess. I mean, I know that we just threw the skits together really last minute but oh my God was it awful. Some actually almost got their nose broken.”

“How did that happen?!”

“There was this skit about the dangers of partying and all that, and there was someone doing a keg stand and when they lifted him up they were a little... enthusiastic and smacked his face right onto the empty keg we had, and then almost dropped him.” Kurt sounded equal parts annoyed and amused. “Which, I feel bad because it looked like it really hurt and there was blood and all, but since he didn’t get seriously injured, it’s funny in retrospect.”

“Well I’m sorry I missed that, it sounds like it was quite the hootenanny,” Blaine said. Kurt snorted and then started coughing, bursts of laughter coming out between coughs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, but did you just say hootenanny?” Kurt asked. “Blaine Anderson. It’s like you’re from another era or something. Bow ties, sweater vests, hootenannies, and I would honestly not be shocked if you told me that was Dippity-Do in your hair.” Blaine flushed, taking another drink of his coffee to give him a chance to school his expression. He wasn’t sure if Kurt was making fun of him or not, but clearly he hadn’t acted quickly enough and Kurt had noticed. “I like all those things,” Kurt added gently, his hand reaching over to rest on Blaine’s arm for a moment. “You’re like a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. All those things? They suit you. You’re just the first person I’ve ever heard use the word hootenanny completely seriously and you almost made me get my mocha up my nose.”

“Well it did sound like a hootenanny,” Blaine said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad your mocha didn’t actually go up your nose, that probably would have hurt.”

“And entirely unattractive,” Kurt added, laughing again. He had an amazing laugh, Blaine realized. It was all honest and real, and he felt like he could listen to Kurt laugh all day and be just fine. That made him want to kick himself, though, for thinking something like that.

“I doubt that, I bet you could pull it off,” Blaine countered. He took a breath and asked before he could talk himself out of it. “Hey, can I have your number?” He rushed into speaking again. “I mean, you can say no, that’s fine. I know we just met yesterday and all that, but you’re the first person I met on campus that actually... friendly and nice.”

“No, of course,” Kurt said, and Blaine let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why he’d been so nervous about asking, except for the fact that Kurt might have said no. “Here, let me see your phone.” Blaine stopped walking for a moment so he could pull his phone out of his pocket and give it to Kurt. “Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“This may be a really awful question,” Kurt said slowly, and Blaine’s brow furrowed. “But... you have a touchscreen phone. How... does that work?”

“Oh, it’s... that’s not an awful question,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “It’s just that phone is really helpful as far as voice commands, and it says names when people call me so I know who I’m going to be talking to. Plus I had an iPhone before, um, when I could still see, so I was already used to it. I can’t use apps or anything, but I don’t really care about those anyway.”

“Makes sense,” Kurt murmured, and he handed the phone back a few seconds later. They started down the sidewalk again, but there was more silence than there had been any other time they’d been together before. It made Blaine feel like maybe he shouldn’t have asked for his number in the first place, or shouldn’t have said much when he’d asked about his phone. Either way, it was starting to feel awkward.

“Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“You can... ask me stuff.” Blaine bit his lip, feeling even more nervous than when he’d asked for his phone number. “I won’t get offended or anything. Sometimes when people do, I mean, it depends on who it is or what the question is, but... I don’t think you would mean anything by it. So you can ask.”

“Alright,” Kurt said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Orientation stuff only goes until four today, right?” Blaine asked, taking a long drink of his coffee as Kurt hummed a confirmation. “Do you have plans for dinner?” His heart felt like it was pounding extra hard in his chest as he realized what he was asking, how it might be taken, and he never had been one for being spontaneous but he felt like he’d made things awkward and he needed to fix it.

“Actually, I don’t,” Kurt said. “There’s an Orientation Leaders thing, but I was going to skip it anyway. It’s not an official meeting that we have to go to or anything, just a pizza party. Why?”

“I owe you dinner,” Blaine said, trying so hard to keep from blushing at his own brazenness.

“Excuse me?”

“I do,” he said with a nod. “You got me coffee, and I was kind of a jerk to you yesterday for no reason, so... I owe you dinner.”

“When were you a jerk to me?” Kurt asked, clearly surprised by the statement. “I don’t remember that.”

“No arguing,” Blaine said, stepping down off the curb to cross the street onto campus. “Just dinner. Let’s say... five o’clock?”

“Five o’clock,” Kurt repeated, and Blaine smiled at that. “Where is this happening?”

“Oh, 23B Home Street. I’m cooking.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, as he and Santana had already made plans to cook in and have dinner, but he didn’t think she would blame him for changing things on her. She wasn’t terribly picky when it came to that sort of thing. Or at least, she wouldn’t hold it against him for very long.

“You’re cooking? You can be a jerk to me all the time if it’s going to end in you cooking for me.”

“You might want to wait to actually try my cooking before giving me that sort of leeway,” Blaine said with a grin. Kurt’s phone went off, and he silenced it within a few rings.

“Well tonight I shall, and we’ll see what I have to say then,” Kurt said, reaching over to rest a hand on Blaine’s back. “I have to run to my group but if nothing else, I’ll be there tonight at five. Have a great day, alright Blaine?”

“You too, Kurt.” Blaine tried to ignore the slight tingle he felt as Kurt’s hand lingered there between his shoulder blades, but then the hand was gone and he was left on his own. It was only then that it truly hit him that he’d just invited Kurt over to his house for dinner. Kurt was going to be in his house, eating his cooking, and that was not exactly something that Blaine could think about without having panic rise up in his chest.

He was going to have to call Santana and explain before he got home, and maybe she’d be able to talk him down.