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Nov. 30, 2012, 2:20 p.m.
Love Soaked Lungs
Blaine is annoying the shit out of Santana with all the whining he's been doing about how lonely he is and how he hasn't gotten any in forever. Okay, maybe not that last part, but she can tell it's been awhile. He's awfully tense. So, Auntie Tana decides it's time to take matters into her own hands.
K - Words: 1,184 - Last Updated: Nov 30, 2012 963 0 0 4 Categories: AU, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez,
Author's Notes: Based on (http://nysundusts.tumblr.com/post/36874100798/i-need-an-au-where-blaine-is-a-barista-and) this photo and prompt. Title from (http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/sarabareilles/thelight.html) The Light by Sara Bareilles.
"Santana!" Blaine yelled, as he stared at the chalk board in front of the espresso machine.
"What?" she replied as she counted out the drawer.
"This is completely inappropriate. Get me the eraser."
"No," she said with a shrug.
"No?"
"No. Look, short stack, you need to get laid, okay? All the whining and complaining you've been doing since you broke up with that Sebastian guy six months ago is getting on my nerves. So, suck it up and let me help you bag a hottie, okay?"
Blaine would have replied, but the door banged open and the morning rush began. This was going to be interesting.
***
Kurt Hummel cursed under his breath as he slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk and spilled his mocha everywhere. Luckily, he kept his balance and the coffee managed to only spill on the concrete and not on him. He would have been really mad if his new cashmere coat was ruined the first day he wore it. But still, he had no coffee and a very long morning of too many meetings ahead of him. He was too far away to head back to where he had gotten his first cup, but this was New York. There was bound to be another coffee shop around the corner.
And there was! Esspresive, the neon sign said. It looked fairly busy from a quick glance in the window, which was a good sign, but not so busy it would take too much time to get another coffee. Kurt pushed open the door and quickly looked up at the menu board over the register, wanting to make sure he ordered in the proper lingo. He was still a couple spots back in line and took a moment to look around the place. It was nice, he decided. A warm, but bright, color palette and stylish lighting made for a welcoming atmosphere. People were laughing and talking as they sat around in the plush looking seating. A boisterous laugh from behind the counter suddenly caught his ear. Kurt looked over and saw one of the cutest guys he'd seen in a really long time. Which was saying something since he worked at Vogue and was regularly surrounded by male models. He was a bit shorter than Kurt, with dark hair slicked down with gel, a white polo shirt, dark green plaid bowtie and black apron with the store name on it. His golden eyes crinkled as he laughed at something a customer had just said. He was absolutely adorable.
Then, Kurt saw what was written on the little placard in front of him. Most places, it said the baristas name and perhaps a drink recommendation or two. This one, however, was, well…. He was sure it had to be a joke of some sort. Would anyone really admit to being "Hella Fucking Gay" and "Desperately Single" on a blackboard sign in a coffee shop?
But, god, he was really fucking cute and Kurt had been going through an awful dry spell with the ridiculous hours he was working and… Kurt sighed. Something needed to change. He'd been stuck in such a rut and he just needed to get out of it.
"What can I get for you, cutie?"
Kurt was shaken out of his musings and realized it was his turn to order.
"Um, large mocha with an extra shot, please," he said to the cashier. Santana, her nametag read.
"Large mocha. Extra shot," she repeated, marking the order on a paper cup. "Anything else?"
"Um, no," he said, glancing over at the guy again.
"Name?"
"Kurt," he replied.
"Okay. That'll be $6.48."
Kurt pulled out his wallet to pay and as he reached for his credit card, he noticed that he had a couple of his business cards tucked in there, too. Should he? Could he?
He pulled one out as he waited for his drink to be ready. It was ivory, with a subtle beige scalloped border and the Vogue logo at the top in gold. His name was centered in the same gold script with his job title, Director, New Media, just below. It had his work phone and email on there, too. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached into his bag for a pen, turned the card over, and scribbled his cell phone number on the back.
"Kurt!" his name was called just as he put the pen away.
It's now or never, he thought.
***
"Kurt!" Blaine called out as he topped of the mocha he had just made with snowflake made of foam. Not that anyone would see it with the lid, but foam art was totally the best part of his job.
He looked up to make sure the right person got the drink and was met by a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He sucked in a breath as his heart thudded in his chest. He'd never really understood what people meant by love at first sight. Now he did. This guy was probably the most gorgeous man Blaine had ever seen. Dark, chestnut hair swept up and back off his face, a small slightly upturned nose, and full pink lips that were currently being licked in what seemed to be nervousness. He wore a black pea coat with a red and gray plaid scarf looped stylishly around his neck. Blaine suddenly felt very silly in his polo shirt, bowtie, and apron.
"Thanks," the guy, Kurt presumably, said with a shy, but very lovely, smile.
"You're welcome," Blaine replied, breathlessly.
"I, um, I don't really do this kind of thing," he continued, "but I couldn't help noticing the sign and—"
"I, yeah," Blaine interrupted. "That's just Santana having a little joke at my expense."
"Oh," Kurt said, his face falling a little. "So, you're not single then?"
"Oh, no!" Blaine exclaimed. "I, yeah, I am definitely single. And gay. Just, I don't usually advertise it like that."
"That's… that's good. Um, call me?" he said, holding out his card.
"I… Yes," Blaine said confidently, taking the card. "Yes, I will do that."
"Good. Then I guess I'll talk to you later…"
"Blaine," he supplied. "I'm Blaine."
"Pleasure," Kurt replied with a nod.
Blaine really, really wished the counter wasn't so high as to make trying to shake Kurt's hand terribly awkward. He had to settle for a smile and nod in return.
"Anderson!"
The two turned to see Santana gesturing to the line of waiting customers.
"Right. Yes, work," Blaine said, grabbing the next cup in line.
"I look forward to hearing from you," Kurt called as he turned to leave the shop.
"Yeah, I—" Blaine said, cutting himself off when he saw Kurt was already at the door.
But that was fine. It was morning and Kurt was probably on his way to work. At Vogue, apparently, Blaine realized as he glanced down at the card. And wasn't that impressive? He worked quickly to clear the back log of drinks and ten minutes later, the first rush of the day was finally past. Blaine wiped down the espresso machine and counter around it, threw the rag in the sink, then went and hugged Santana tightly, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek at the same time.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you."
THE END
"What?" she replied as she counted out the drawer.
"This is completely inappropriate. Get me the eraser."
"No," she said with a shrug.
"No?"
"No. Look, short stack, you need to get laid, okay? All the whining and complaining you've been doing since you broke up with that Sebastian guy six months ago is getting on my nerves. So, suck it up and let me help you bag a hottie, okay?"
Blaine would have replied, but the door banged open and the morning rush began. This was going to be interesting.
***
Kurt Hummel cursed under his breath as he slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk and spilled his mocha everywhere. Luckily, he kept his balance and the coffee managed to only spill on the concrete and not on him. He would have been really mad if his new cashmere coat was ruined the first day he wore it. But still, he had no coffee and a very long morning of too many meetings ahead of him. He was too far away to head back to where he had gotten his first cup, but this was New York. There was bound to be another coffee shop around the corner.
And there was! Esspresive, the neon sign said. It looked fairly busy from a quick glance in the window, which was a good sign, but not so busy it would take too much time to get another coffee. Kurt pushed open the door and quickly looked up at the menu board over the register, wanting to make sure he ordered in the proper lingo. He was still a couple spots back in line and took a moment to look around the place. It was nice, he decided. A warm, but bright, color palette and stylish lighting made for a welcoming atmosphere. People were laughing and talking as they sat around in the plush looking seating. A boisterous laugh from behind the counter suddenly caught his ear. Kurt looked over and saw one of the cutest guys he'd seen in a really long time. Which was saying something since he worked at Vogue and was regularly surrounded by male models. He was a bit shorter than Kurt, with dark hair slicked down with gel, a white polo shirt, dark green plaid bowtie and black apron with the store name on it. His golden eyes crinkled as he laughed at something a customer had just said. He was absolutely adorable.
Then, Kurt saw what was written on the little placard in front of him. Most places, it said the baristas name and perhaps a drink recommendation or two. This one, however, was, well…. He was sure it had to be a joke of some sort. Would anyone really admit to being "Hella Fucking Gay" and "Desperately Single" on a blackboard sign in a coffee shop?
But, god, he was really fucking cute and Kurt had been going through an awful dry spell with the ridiculous hours he was working and… Kurt sighed. Something needed to change. He'd been stuck in such a rut and he just needed to get out of it.
"What can I get for you, cutie?"
Kurt was shaken out of his musings and realized it was his turn to order.
"Um, large mocha with an extra shot, please," he said to the cashier. Santana, her nametag read.
"Large mocha. Extra shot," she repeated, marking the order on a paper cup. "Anything else?"
"Um, no," he said, glancing over at the guy again.
"Name?"
"Kurt," he replied.
"Okay. That'll be $6.48."
Kurt pulled out his wallet to pay and as he reached for his credit card, he noticed that he had a couple of his business cards tucked in there, too. Should he? Could he?
He pulled one out as he waited for his drink to be ready. It was ivory, with a subtle beige scalloped border and the Vogue logo at the top in gold. His name was centered in the same gold script with his job title, Director, New Media, just below. It had his work phone and email on there, too. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached into his bag for a pen, turned the card over, and scribbled his cell phone number on the back.
"Kurt!" his name was called just as he put the pen away.
It's now or never, he thought.
***
"Kurt!" Blaine called out as he topped of the mocha he had just made with snowflake made of foam. Not that anyone would see it with the lid, but foam art was totally the best part of his job.
He looked up to make sure the right person got the drink and was met by a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He sucked in a breath as his heart thudded in his chest. He'd never really understood what people meant by love at first sight. Now he did. This guy was probably the most gorgeous man Blaine had ever seen. Dark, chestnut hair swept up and back off his face, a small slightly upturned nose, and full pink lips that were currently being licked in what seemed to be nervousness. He wore a black pea coat with a red and gray plaid scarf looped stylishly around his neck. Blaine suddenly felt very silly in his polo shirt, bowtie, and apron.
"Thanks," the guy, Kurt presumably, said with a shy, but very lovely, smile.
"You're welcome," Blaine replied, breathlessly.
"I, um, I don't really do this kind of thing," he continued, "but I couldn't help noticing the sign and—"
"I, yeah," Blaine interrupted. "That's just Santana having a little joke at my expense."
"Oh," Kurt said, his face falling a little. "So, you're not single then?"
"Oh, no!" Blaine exclaimed. "I, yeah, I am definitely single. And gay. Just, I don't usually advertise it like that."
"That's… that's good. Um, call me?" he said, holding out his card.
"I… Yes," Blaine said confidently, taking the card. "Yes, I will do that."
"Good. Then I guess I'll talk to you later…"
"Blaine," he supplied. "I'm Blaine."
"Pleasure," Kurt replied with a nod.
Blaine really, really wished the counter wasn't so high as to make trying to shake Kurt's hand terribly awkward. He had to settle for a smile and nod in return.
"Anderson!"
The two turned to see Santana gesturing to the line of waiting customers.
"Right. Yes, work," Blaine said, grabbing the next cup in line.
"I look forward to hearing from you," Kurt called as he turned to leave the shop.
"Yeah, I—" Blaine said, cutting himself off when he saw Kurt was already at the door.
But that was fine. It was morning and Kurt was probably on his way to work. At Vogue, apparently, Blaine realized as he glanced down at the card. And wasn't that impressive? He worked quickly to clear the back log of drinks and ten minutes later, the first rush of the day was finally past. Blaine wiped down the espresso machine and counter around it, threw the rag in the sink, then went and hugged Santana tightly, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek at the same time.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you."
THE END