It had been one of those days. Actually, it had been one of those months. Scratch that—it had been of one those years.

Okay, so, admittedly that might be a touch dramatic, but he couldn't help it.

Kurt Hummel was depressed. He wanted nothing more than to sit on his couch, eat a giant tub of super fattening ice cream, and watch Project Runway reruns.

He had failed his theatre history midterm, which he'd actually worked really hard at. Luckily, the teacher was giving him an opportunity to up his grade by a make-up essay he was dreading writing. History was one of his worst subjects. Hed have to work extra hard the whole semester and even then the best he can hope for is a barely passing grade.

He had been getting more responsibilities in his internship with Vogue, and currently they were working with a designer on a big upcoming show and she was awful. She was the living breathing version of a headache, and she had no respect for interns and treated Kurt like dirt. And he had to take it.

Then his last date ended in tragedy. The guy, Mitchell, wanted to make a doll out of him. Like, he wanted Kurt to model for him so he could make him into a porcelain doll. Cause he made porcelain dolls. For fun. And he had already made one of Kurt, but it was only from memory so he wanted to make from with the real thing in front of him.

Yeah, that date didn't last past his drink.

That was just one in a stream of his dates ending in awkward tragedy, and Kurt is beginning to come to the saddening realization of his lonely life.

Not to mention all the stress with his other classes, and having to deal with Elliott's constant singing way too early in the morning, and everything was piling up way too high.

So when Elliott overly enthusiastically decided it was imperative that Kurt join him for a night of clubbing, Kurt's immediate response was a cold hard no.

“Come on, Kurt, live a little.”

“I'm living just fine.”

“Kurt. You've been watching TV all day.” Elliott raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just because my definition of living doesn't meet your standard, does not mean I am not having the loveliest of times vicariously living through the Kardashians.” Kurt defended.

“That's just sad.”

“Well, boo. Go have fun without me.”

“Kurt.” Elliott whined, “Pretty please? I've been stressed too. I need to get laid. Hell, you need to get laid. Besides, if you don't come, I'll be stuck going alone with Grayson and Sebastian.” Elliott said with a face of disgust.

Sebastian. Yeah, that made Kurt want to go. Kurt hated Sebastian. Okay, hate was a strong word. He…gave Kurt a feeling that was somewhat akin to the feeling of food poisoning. They had met through Grayson, who Kurt and Elliott met and clicked with in their theatrical voice class, and instantly fallen into a rivalry with each other. And the worst part was that Sebastian always seemed to win.

“No.” He replied firmly.

“Kurt.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“I said no, Elliott.”

“I'll write your theatre history make-up paper.”

That made Kurt stop. He dragged himself out of his bundle of blankets on the couch and looked skeptically at Elliott.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to go that badly?” He questioned.

His roommate sat down carefully next to him and put his hand on Kurt's leg like he was comforting a sad kitten. “Sweetheart,” He started, “You need help.”

“Don't be dramatic. I'm just having a bad day.” Kurt scoffed.

“If your idea of a bad day is spending the week on this couch over eating, crying, and missing classes, then yes, you are. But I just mean…You're stressed. And you have every reason to be. Between your hardest year yet at NYADA, getting more responsibilities at your internship at Vogue, and, well, your…unfortunate love life,” Kurt's glare could turn Medusa to stone, “I get why you're crashing. But you're crashing hard.”

“It's just a bad day.”

“Bad semester.”

“Bad week, at most.”

“Kurt. Shut up. I'm not finished.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I want to help you. I aced theatre history no problem last semester—that shit comes naturally to me. So let me help you, and in exchange, you don't leave me to a night of laughing alone at Grayson hopelessly pining over Sebastian while Seb fucks whatever smells good.” Elliott joked and managed a laugh out of Kurt.

“It's truly a train wreck.” Kurt concluded.

“The best kind! But it's only funny if you're there to make sarcastic commentary, otherwise it is just sad.” He encouraged.

“I am pretty funny, aren't I?”

“Yes. Now, will you come with me?” Elliott said with his best puppy dog eyes. Kurt narrowed his eyes at him, taking a moment to decide, then…

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Elliott stood up with a loud cheer.

“But I'm not promising to be fun. Or good looking. Or socially acceptable. In fact, I'm not even changing. I'm just going to drink something sugary and laugh at other's misfortune.” Kurt rattled as he began folding his mountain of blankets.

“Um, Kurt, you should at least change. You're wearing baggy sweats and an olds Mckinley hoodie.”

Kurt avoided his gaze.

“Kurt, did you hear me?”

No response.

“Kurt.”

Kurt mumbled something ineligible in reply.

“What was that?” Elliott questioned.

“I haven't done laundry in a while, okay?” Kurt snapped.

Elliott's laugh surely woke the whole neighborhood.

Which lead to Kurt to this moment; sitting alone at the bar, nursing the fruitiest, sugariest drink at one of New York's finest gay bars, The Strip Bone.

Elliott was lost somewhere in the sea of men, probably gaining the attention of—well, everyone. Grayson had drank too much too fast and was now nowhere to be seen, which usually meant he was crying in the bathroom. Kurt hadn't seen Sebastian for a while.

Kurt had not been approached by a single living thing that evening. Which was unusual for Kurt, who was usually fending off several men. Not that he was surprised. His hair was an unwashed mess, he had refused to change out of his sweatshirt and hoodie, and he could feel his whole demeanor shouting, Don't fucking talk to me.

It was fine by Kurt, who had no interest in meeting or dancing with anyone tonight. Elliott had convinced him that maybe it would be fun, but no, Kurt was in no mood for this. He just wanted to go home. But Elliott's promise of writing his make-up paper for theatre history kept him strong.

Just then, Sebastian slimed his way next to Kurt.

“You do realize you look even more like a sack of potatoes than usual?” He mused. Kurt tried not to grind his teeth too hard.

“In that case, shouldn't you like, not be seen with me or something?”

“Nah, by you looking so grotesque you're making me look even better.” He laughed.

“I'm glad to be of service. We all know you need the help.” Kurt sneered.

Sebastian rolled his eyes then threw back a shot. “Well, potatoes, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you knew how pathetic and repulsive you look, and remind you of the several offers from dozens of men I've received here tonight. Which is good, cause I just dumped that man of yours, what was his name? Ryan…”

“Reed. And he wasn't my man. We went on one date.”

“Right. Then he figured out how much more appealing I am.” Sebastian winked.

“Just go dance, Meerkat.” Kurt said as he focused his attention on his drink. Sebastian mockingly saluted him then went back to the dance floor.

Usually Kurt didn't let Sebastian get to him, but today…maybe he should have changed. He didn't have to talk to anyone. Yeah, his clothing had been a bit of a defense mechanism, as the last thing he wanted was to have to fake small talk tonight, but…he could have tried a little bit.

Now he had to feel ugly on top of his overall shittiness. Great.

“I didn't even know they had drinks that colorful here.” A voice quipped from his left. Kurt whipped his head up from his drink to come face to face with, um, wow, with perfection. Perfection that came in the form of the most hot, handsome, utterly gorgeous man Kurt had ever seen.

Now he really wished he had changed.

“Um, yeah. It tastes something like a rainbow.” Kurt said lamely, staring too hard at the man in front of him. Who gave a small laugh as he sat down on the seat next to Kurt, quickly ordering a drink from the bartender.

He had slight scruff, but still clean looking. His hair was a bit gelled down, but it looked enticingly disheveled—likely from dancing.  He was wearing form fitting dark jeans, and a deep red button down that displayed his—um, quite impressive—muscles perfectly.

“A rainbow, huh? Then I guess it makes sense it's sold at a gay bar.” The man replied easily.

“Yep.” Was all Kurt could think to reply. Why was this gorgeous man talking to him? Does he think he's a cancer patient and this is charity? Oh, god, that was offensive to cancer patients. Kurt can't win.

“So,” The man started, took a quick drink, then angled his body towards Kurt and placed his full attention on him. “Why are you here?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” What kind of question was that?

“Why are you here?” The man repeated.

“Why are you here?” He countered defensively.

The man laughed softly. “I'm not trying to offend you. It's just…I saw you sitting here, and you look miserable.”

“Gee, thanks.” He sassed.

“I mean you look like you don't want to be here.”

“I don't.”

“So why are you here?”

Kurt sighed and looked back down at his drink. “My friend made me come.”

“Do you often give in to peer pressure?”

Kurt snapped his head up again, about to verbally smack down this asshole, when he saw his soft and playful expression, and the flirting tone of the man's remark hit Kurt at a delayed rate. He couldn't help but laugh in return.

“No. But I do, occasionally, give into bribes.”

“Oh?” The man teased, leaning back in his chair and staring at Kurt with shining, adoring eyes. Or, maybe it was just the lights in the club.

Right?

“Yes. He promised to write a paper for me.”

“So, likes rainbow drinks, is open to bribery, and can be lax on work. Anything else to know about you?” The man challenged playfully.

“No, that sounds about right. It does lead me to question your character, though, since you are continuing to talk to me.” Kurt challenged right back, taking a drink and looking expectedly at the man over the rim of his glass.

“Anyone willing to show up at one of the hottest gay clubs in the city dressed like you are is definitely worth my time.” The man said, a weirdly serious hint to his voice.

Since Kurt had, like he said, been having a hard time, his response may have been a tad too overreacting. “What the fuck does that mean!?” He all but yelled.

“Woah,” The man raised his hands in the air, “Repeat, I'm not trying to offend you.” He rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I guess I'm not doing a very good job of this, am I?”

Kurt was staring blankly at him. Was this gorgeous man…nervous? To talk to…him? The walking potato? Like, Kurt hadn't washed his face in days—the horror and shame was almost too much—and he was even beginning to break out. There was nothing appealing about him right now. Especially when there were gorgeous people like Elliott tearing up the dance floor right now.

“I just mean…” The man continued, returning Kurt's attention to him. “I don't want to be here either. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the occasional night out clubbing, but the over stimulation is a little much right now. The flashiness and sometimes overbearing characters…Then I saw you, and you—“

“Look like the human version of roadkill?” Kurt interrupted with an utterly straight face.

The man burst out laughing, and Kurt noted he had one of the best laughs he'd ever heard. He wanted to hear more of it.

“No, I was gonna say you stood out to me because…I didn't want to be here, but I went through all the motions of getting ready and putting effort I didn't want to put but you just…”

Kurt raised his eyebrows so high and judging-ly at the man he thought they'd go off his head. The man say his expression, and looked slightly panicked for a minute and shook his head profusely.

“No, no! I don't mean that you didn't put effort, but…okay, this is probably the worst flirting job I've ever done, I promise I actually have a lot more game than this, but I'm just gonna roll with this and hope I don't offend you too much more.” The man took a deep breath, almost intentionally comically, then looked Kurt dead in the eye, unblinking. 

“You look like this is the last place you want to be, and like you don't give a single fuck about anything other than the only thing you care about here, which is that drink. You look like you were bribed into coming here by a friend and then didn't even bother to comb your hair. And I think that's the most badass thing I've seen in a while. And I saw you across the room, and…I mean I thought you were adorable, and now…” 

The man glanced down, took another breath, then looked up at Kurt with the sexiest, hottest, most beautiful and gorgeous and open and ugh face that Kurt had ever seen. “…Now I see that you are one of the most heart-stoppingly stunning men I've ever seen, and god, you don't even have to try.”

Kurt stared at the man. The man stared determinedly back to him. Kurt had no idea what to say. Was this guy serious?

“So…” Kurt started, nodding his head thoughtfully, “Basically, what you're saying, is that you like the fact that I'm dressed like a life-sized representation of unbaked cake batter?”

The man laughed heartedly again. “Something like that, yes.”

“Well, consider me charmed.” Kurt smiled warmly at the man. The man smiled back, and Kurt felt butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“My name's Blaine, by the way.” The man—Blaine—said, extending his hand to Kurt.

“Kurt,” He replied, shaking Blaine's hand. They held hands just a little too long, staring, transfixed, into each other's eyes.

“It's lovely to meet you, Kurt.” Blaine said softly, his voice washing over Kurt in all the right ways.

“Likewise.” Kurt found himself blushing under his gaze.

“And I must thank you.” Blaine started playfully, finally untangling his hand from Kurt's.

“Oh yeah?” Kurt asked, taking another drink.

“Yeah. There was this guy who could not take a hint, you know?”

“Oooh, I know the type.” Kurt cooed sympathetically.

“Your beauty was a perfect reason to excuse myself.” Blaine's voice dripped with flirtation and adoration.

Before Kurt could fall too hard, Sebastian came up to them.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asked. Kurt looked up at Sebastian, confused as to why he thought Blaine would be bothering him, when he realized…Sebastian was talking to Blaine. “Sorry, he can be a bit of leech.”

“A leech? Really?” Kurt grit out through clenched teeth.

Blaine, on his part, looked beyond annoyed. “No, actually. And I can look out for myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh I bet, tiger.” Sebastian overly flirted. “Now, I think we were just about to have another dance before you ran off?” Sebastian extended his hand to Blaine, who looked like he was deciding between shooting himself or Sebastian.

Before Blaine could respond, Kurt stood up. “Actually,” Both of their heads whipped towards Kurt, “Blaine and I were just about to go. Tell Elliott I'll meet him at home.” Kurt grabbed Blaine by the arm and pulled him up and away, and Blaine went very willingly.

“Seriously, Kurt?!” Sebastian called after them.

Victory had never felt so sweet.

“Thanks for the save, but I don't remember agreeing to go anywhere with you.” Blaine asked, clearly amused, as Kurt lead him towards the exit.

Kurt stopped abruptly, Blaine almost running into him. He turned around and said, “You said yourself you don't want to be here. And you seem to be attracted to my…” He glanced down at himself, “…laid back attire, so to speak, and you say to be so inclined towards my badass don't-give-a-fuck attitude, I thought I would take you to my favorite comfort food cafe and give you the full not giving a shit experience. So, handsome, what do you say?”

Blaine's grin glowed brighter than the brightest lights of the city.

“Dressed like that, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth.”

The proceeding ice cream date translated into a follow up dinner date (Kurt actually used hair product this time), then a date out by the water, then a date to an art show, then countless dates after that.

They discovered that Blaine loved Kurt's tight pants just as much as his sweats.

After they moved in together, one of their favorite traditions was curling up on the couch in sweats and hoodies, watching endless TV, and cuddling till they fell asleep in each other arms with ice cream melting in their laps.

Yes, it was a tradition Kurt never thought he'd want, but it turned out to be everything he needed.