Author's note: My first Glee fic. I've been out of the fic game for a while, but here I am! Please review and let me know if I should continue. I think I could go on with this, but as of now I'm considering it a one-shot.
Disclaimer: Glee's not mine. I'm just playing with it.
Kurt's day had sucked.
He had stubbed his toe first thing in the morning. His usual bench to wait for the subway had been occupied by a slumbering homeless woman. Once on the subway, his train had gotten stuck at a station and made him miss an important meeting.
Things had been looking up when he met up with Rachel for lunch, but all she did was complain about her cast mates and the waitress had gotten his salad order all wrong.
The rest of his workday was one bad thing after another. He tried to listen in on some water cooler gossip and only heard distasteful things about his office crowd, including himself. His designs were called "lovely" by the head designer, which everyone knows actually means, "Start over again from scratch. You're basically almost fired for this."
His commute home thus far had been uneventful except for the fact that he couldn't pass his current level on Angry Birds if his life depended on it.
Now, Kurt walked through the park in his neighborhood at a brisk pace, his hands clutched into fists inside his trench coat pockets. The frigid wind cut into his cheeks and his hair whipped around his head in a frenzy. His leather satchel, slung across his chest and heavy with sketchbooks and swatchboards, bumped into his hip with each step. He focused on the end of the park's wide cobblestone pathway, between a parting in the trees, about thirty feet away. His desire to reach his apartment's warm interior and the comforts therein was strong.
He bent his head down to withstand a particularly strong gust of wind when his right shoulder was suddenly struck backward as if he ran into an errant tree.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," said a voice.
Kurt, head still bent, noticed a milky, warm liquid splattered down his right side and arm. He removed his hands from within his pockets gingerly to avoid getting his fingers sticky. He could smell espresso.
"Did you just dump your coffee all over me?" Kurt took a few steps back.
The voice gasped and rambled, "I'm- God, I'm so sorry. I was checking my phone- I didn't see you-"
"Obviously," Kurt spat, as he shook out his hand. The latte on his sleeve had trickled down between his fingers, despite his best efforts to avoid it.
"-I'll make it up to you. You'll have to get that dry-cleaned. Let me pay for it," the voice pleaded.
"It's fine. No. Whatever," Kurt sighed as he shook out his hand one last time and took his phone from his pocket to make sure it was unharmed. It was sticky, but it would survive.
Kurt finally looked at his assailant. He saw dark curls gelled into a parted wave on the top of his head. He saw honey-colored eyes, wide with concern, and a strong jawline darkened with stubble. The man's bottom lip was stuck between his teeth in an expression of concern. He saw a beautiful, wool tweed coat, over a gray suit, over a slim, sturdy body.
He saw a hottie.
Despite the fact that Kurt was suddenly in lust with this man, he was still angry.
"Thanks a lot, sir. Goodnight."
"I'm sorry! Please let me make it up to you," said the man in the suit. Kurt had begun walking again and regained his swift pace while the assailant trotted alongside him. "I feel like such a dick."
"That's because you are." Kurt rolled his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"Look!" Kurt stopped to turn to the man. "I know you're sorry. Give it a rest. It's been a bad day for me already, exemplified by the fact that I am now sporting a thin, sticky layer of Starbucks. It's fucking freezing out here and I now have coffee all over my new favorite coat. Let me just get the hell home, okay?" He turned on his heel and began to take a step when the man gripped his shoulder. They stood in the light of the street lamp, just inside the park. Commuters passed on the sidewalk and a woman with a terrier jogged past them. Kurt looked around in annoyance before engaging the man in eye contact only meant for his worst enemies.
"I just feel so bad. Let me make it up to you," said the man, giving what Kurt imagined was his best impression of a kicked puppy.
This only angered Kurt more. "You can make it up to me by leaving me the hell alone!" he raised his voice and rolled his eyes. "Don't try to make me feel guilty for not letting you pay for goddamn dry-cleaning."
"I'm sorry," said the man again, hastily removing his hand from Kurt's shoulder. He looked sincere. Kurt's resolve broke a little - but only a little. "You won't let me pay to restore your coat, then let me take you for a cup of coffee."
"I'm off coffee for now," Kurt sighed, glancing down and brushing off the droplets of liquid still clinging to the fibers of his coat. "Ironic, right?" he joked darkly.
"Then let me take you out to dinner," said the hottie.
Kurt's head shot up. "Excuse me?"
"What's your name? I'm Blaine." The suited man stuck out his hand and gave a charming smile.
"Kurt." He hesitated, but shook the offered hand and immediately regretted it. Their skin stuck together until they peeled their hands apart.
"Kurt. Please let me make this up to you by taking you to dinner."
Kurt blinked. A split moment's thought: He thought of a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a blanket back at his apartment. "No. Thank you," he declined, amused now at this man's insistence. "Goodnight."
He turned and made to leave the park, leaning into the wind and hugging the curve of the park's aged brick wall. Blaine didn't follow. Kurt covered little distance down the sidewalk before he heard Blaine call out behind him.
"What if I told you I watched you pass me every day on this path and I'm actually really glad I got to finally talk to you?"
Kurt stopped walking.
"Despite the circumstances, Kurt, I'm glad we bumped into each other," Blaine called.
Kurt sighed and smirked a little, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. He turned just enough to project his voice to Blaine without letting the whole neighborhood into their conversation.
"If that's true, then I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine. Right now I just want to go home."
