A/N: So I have finally had the guts to begin writing a Klain fanfiction. I have a few chapters written ahead of this! I'll try updating as much as I can, and to keep this story true to the show! Note: I will follow the original storyline at times, but most of this is my own little take. A lot of lines I will use from the show, and you'll know it when you see them so..yeah. Those don't belong to me-!
Disclaimer: Glee nor any of its characters belong to me! Just this story! Even some things in the story do not belong to me.
. . . . .
"Damn you, Mother Nature!"
Kurt Hummel cursed as the rain poured down, drenching his freshly picked outfit. The ground beneath him was an endless puddle, and with each step there was an unpleasant sound as his shoes emptied and refilled with water.
Kurt sought shelter in a nearby laundromat; perfect for the occasion, pulling out his surprisingly not wet bag and glancing around the room. As Kurt stepped inside, the smell of laundry detergent and freshly clean, dry clothes filled his nose. There was just a single other person in the small building, a male currently sifting through the washer to the drier, placing clothes inside.
Kurt gave a small glance at the teenager who looked about his age, watching curiously as he continued on with his work. He seemed to wear an abnormal amount of gel in his hair, with cropped yellow jeans that stopped just above his ankles. Either they didn't fit anymore, or that was the look he went for. Not even realizing the boy had turned around and that Kurt was still drenched from the random downpour that decided to disturb him, Kurt was brought out of his reverie by the clearing of the boy's throat.
"Sorry, what?"
"You're staring. It's. . .kind of creepy."
"Oh- sorry. Lost in thought, I guess."
Kurt turned the opposite way to hide the crimson that brushed his cheeks, walking to the small bathroom inside the laundromat. He peeled out of his wet clothes piece by piece, trying desperately to wiggle out of his skinny jeans.
After several more moments, Kurt was finally free of the sticky clothing and into a more comfortable ensemble. It wasn't what he preferred, but it was better than being soaked. Gathering his clothes into a ball, Kurt walked out of the bathroom and shoved his clothes into a drier, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. The gel helmet was still there, tapping his foot and humming quietly as he waited for his clothes to be finished.
Kurt sighed. It was too quiet. The only sound between them was the sound of the drier spinning consistently.
"So um. . .are you new in town? I've never seen you before. Do you go to McKinley?"
The male chuckled, turning to face Kurt.
"No, I don't go to McKinley. I attend the Dalton Academy."
He told Kurt, arms folded neatly across his chest. It was then that Kurt noticed the white, black and yellow striped bow tie that fit nicely against the white polo tucked into his jeans. Kurt stood a good distance away, and from there his eyes looked simple, but he found himself curious as to what color his eyes were. Were they the kind someone could get lost in?
Kurt suddenly felt very insecure in his navy sweatpants and black crewneck tee. This was something he would never wear in public.
"Oh, is that some kind of Private School, or something?"
Kurt was trying his best to make polite conversation to clear the awkward air, but somehow he felt more awkward than ever. And wait - what was this man's name?
"Uh, yeah. It's an all boys school, actually."
"Ah."
Awkward silence. Again. The drier spun, and Kurt glanced at the clock. Gosh, how much time was left? Was this ever going to end?
"So, Gel Helmet, what's your name?"
Kurt cringed. Did he really just call him Gel Helmet? Out loud?
"Well, Mr. Vogue, my name is Blaine. Uh, Anderson. Blaine Anderson."
"Well it's nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Kurt Hummel."
Wow. Blaine. That was such a nice name. Nice name for a nice face. Kurt shook his head, brought out of his thoughts by Blaine's drier finishing, Blaine digging in and placing the clothes in a bag.
` Wait, don't leave, Blaine! `
Kurt sighed longingly, looking down at his own drier that was still spinning. He rested his elbow on the top, cupping his face in the palm of his hand. Soon, he would be the only one left in the laundromat.
"Hey, Kurt?"
Kurt looked up.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe we could get coffee sometime?"
"Yeah- Yeah, sure. I would love that. The Lima Bean?"
"Of course. Where else?"
Blaine flashed a smile that made Kurt's heart flutter, and suddenly he was moving closer to Kurt. Oh god was he going to kiss him already? They'd just met-! Oh, no. He wasn't. Kurt realized that once Blaine pulled out his phone, willing Kurt to do the same.
` Duh, Kurt. He wants to exchange numbers. `
Kurt fumbled for his phone in the pocket placed in the front of his sweatpants, holding it out for Blaine and taking his. Quickly he typed his phone number in, licking his bottom lip before giving it back.
"Bye, Kurt. I'll see you later."
Blaine smiled once more and Kurt just nodded with the dumbest smile possible, waving his hand as if he were mesmerized. Which, he was. Blaine was the most attractive guy he had ever seen. The smell of raspberry and soap lingered in his mind; damn he smelled good, too.
. . . . .
"Kurt . . . Kurt, wake up!"
Kurt was met with a pillow hitting his face, groaning softly as it made contact.
"Gosh, I'm awake!"
Kurt held his hands out, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The pillow rolled off of his face and onto the bed,
"Who the hell . . .?"
He opened his eyes, the room filling with light. There was a figure above him, eyes adjusting to see none other than Mercedes Jones standing beside his bed with a devious grin spread across her face.
"Did you spend too much time sewing your new clothing line last night, or did you simply forget about our lunch date at Breadstix!?"
Her voice boomed, hands placed firmly on her hips. Kurt groaned, holding the pillow over his face as he rolled onto his back.
"Crap, Mercedes. I forgot. A lot happened last night."
"Uh Huh. Get your sorry ass up, Hummel and walk yourself to that closet of yours. I'll be waiting upstairs!"
Mercedes sang before exiting Kurt's room. He climbed out of bed sluggishly, rubbing at his eyes. It wasn't like him to sleep past his alarm, he needed plenty of time to get ready, and he certainly wasn't going to skip on his morning moisturizing.
An hour later, Kurt climbed up the steps to the main area of the house, hair in its usual combed style. Light brown skinny jeans fit snug on his waist, a mocha brown belt looped around. A cream shirt was tucked into his jeans, beneath the belt loop, a long sleeved cropped shirt the color of his jeans reaching just below his ribs. For shoes, he wore boots - but not the rough, dirty kind. They were smooth and shiny, a splash of black to contrast the outfit nicely.
"Looking good, Kurt. As usual."
Mercedes grinned and Kurt gave an invisible hair flip.
"Why thank you, Mercedes. Shall we get going?"
"Yeah, let's go."
After a decent, music filled drive, the two friends arrived at Breadstix, one of the two main hangouts in Lima, Ohio. The other being, of course, The Lima Bean.
"So Kurt, spill."
Mercedes said as the two slid into a booth, leaving Kurt with a confused expression.
"What do you mean?"
"You wouldn't just forget about our lunch date unless something - or someone - completely distracted you."
Kurt sighed, resting his cheek on his fist. He knew this conversation was coming.
"I mean, I just met someone at the laundromat last night. Not a big deal."
Kurt shrugged, but couldn't keep the smile from his face. Blaine was attractive. And nice. Two rare traits to be intertwined.
"At the laundromat? Okay, now you have to tell me everything."
Mercedes laughed, and Kurt smiled again. He always loved going places with his confident, talented friend. Her laugh was a somewhat loud but anyways calm mixture, and Kurt loved it.
"Well it rained," Kurt began. "And I got my intricate outfit absolutely drenched. It was like a nightmare. I felt like I had walked straight into a horror movie. I found myself at the laundromat with a spare change of clothes, and he was the only one in there."
Kurt continued on with the story, describing the way that Blaine had set himself, how when he stepped closer Kurt could smell raspberry and soap and it made his senses fly. He talked about the way Blaine's voice sounded, smooth and collected, running over Kurt. He mentioned how much Blaine made his heart flutter, beat rapidly in his chest.
"Wow. Did you really call him Gel Helmet, Kurt?"
"Gosh, yes. I did. The meeting was so awkward, but I don't care. Too bad he goes to Dalton . . . He was so nice, it was refreshing."
Mercedes smiled, warm and contained, eyes lit against the dim lighting in the restaurant.
"He seems like a dream, Kurt. If only McKinley had guys like him."
She winked, causing Kurt to roll his eyes with a small laugh.
"If only."
Kurt echoed, turning his head as the waitress showed up.
"What can I get you two today?"
"I'll have . . ."
. . . . .
A few hours and several breadsticks later, Mercedes and Kurt pulled up outside of Kurt's house, Mercedes pulling the car into park.
"I had fun today, Kurt."
Mercedes smiled, leaning back in the driver's seat. Kurt smiled and nodded in agreement.
"I did, too. It's always good to hang out and catch up. Even if we see each other each day at school, it's nice to see each other on our own time."
"Definitely."
"I'd better get going. Thanks, 'Cedes."
"Welcome, Hummel."
Mercedes grinned once again as Kurt exited the car, yawning and stretching all the way up to his house and disappearing behind the door.
Once it was closed, Mercedes was gone and Kurt descended the steps to his room in the basement, giving his father a warm smile and hello before doing so.
Today had been fun. Last night was even better. Kurt sighed wistfully, hoping he would see Blaine again soon.