I love Christmas, and have therefore decided to make my own advent calendar - allowing myself to take the time to write a drabble or short oneshot for 24 days, independent and around Klaine. If anyone has prompts for me, feel free to share, as I have no idea what I'll write except what strikes my fancy that particular day.
See each day for eventual warnings or spoilers.
This one is rated T, if you ignore the mention of toys, and is an AU first meeting-story, where Kurt and Blaine never met in high school.
Working at Brooks Brothers isn't exactly a dream job, but it's very much a pleasant job when he needs to pay rent, tuition, books, and now and then a mocha. He'd aced his job interview with his knowledge about fashion, he knows customer service after working in his dad's garage, he can dress for the occasion, and he is willing to work the worst shifts with his typical student's desperation for money. One more year, and he will be a NYADA graduate, and he'll hopefully bid this store farewell. But it's been two good years here so far.
Late Saturday night is one of those less than popular shifts. He knows his colleagues are out on dates or home with their families. While he is all alone, folding shirts and sorting bowties to make it easier for the morning shift to open. It's not many out doing any shopping today – it's a rainy May night, and most people have better things to do. Fortunately for Kurt, he's allowed to read in his books and prepare for the upcoming exams during quiet times if he has nothing else to do. But a hoard of German tourists just ran through the store like a pack of elephants, and Kurt can't understand why they have to lift every piece of clothing and wrinkle them, especially when they aren't even buying anything..
He's busy untying a knot in a thin tie, when he hears the sound. Who the hell is playing Beethoven now?
And then he sees him. A young man in a blue blazer with red piping struts overly confidently up to him.
"Baby boy, where you at? Got no strings, got men attached. Can't stop that feelin' for long, no," he sings, and a pack of young men joins him to back him up. Kurt can enjoy a good music number, a capella and all, and the store is slow, so he grins at the group using the floor as their private stage. He has work to do, though, so when the tie is solved, he moves on to pair some abandoned shoes. It would probably be easier if he didn't keep throwing glances at the cute man with the moves and silly faces.
"See all these illusions just take us too long, And I want it bad… Because you walk pretty, Because you talk pretty, 'Cause you make me sick, And I'm not leavin' till you're leavin'," he sings, sliding around Kurt, while the other boys are side-stepping and ooh'ing.
Kurt smiles more than just politely, and walks back to the counter, the hot stranger and his sidekicks following him.
"Baby boy you da shit, that makes you my equivalent. Well you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight, all right," he sings with a profound blush, and Kurt snorts indelicately.
"So I pray to something he ain't bluffin', rubbin' up on me," he sings, and runs a hand down his chest until his thumb catches on his belt buckle. The movement forces Kurt to check him out properly, and what a pleasant sight it is. In a more traditional Saturday night-setting, and with some liquid courage, Kurt wouldn't have minded rubbing up on that. But as it is, he can only watch with amusement, safe behind the counter. The young man convinced Kurt two bars in that he had to know music and have some experience with performing. This is not just an amateur flash mob, or a bachelor party-prank. This has a story. The choreography and coordination reveal that the group is synched from experience, and Kurt is dying to know more.
"When I get you alone. When I get you you'll know, baby. When I get you alone. When I get you alone now," he belts out, undoubtedly singing it to Kurt. But Kurt knows they've never met before. He'd remember those eyes. That smile. That ass… The blazer is a bit bizarre, though, and there's some kind of emblem on it. It's too stiff even for a Brooks Brother-man. The back up-singers are wearing more generic, average outfits, though, so Kurt suspects some kind of set up.
As soon as the last tone is out in the air, the young men surround the front singer, cheering and shouting things Kurt's can understand except a few "Happy birthdays!" They're running their knuckles through his gelled hair and patting his back like straight boys do when they want to say "love you, friend," and before Kurt can consider if he wants to say anything, they're gone.
The next day, Kurt is wondering if he dreamed it all, or if the stunt show last night really happened. There are no traces of it, not that he would expect the blazer hanging over a mannequin or the fading tones still whispering to him from under the ceiling.
The weather is much better today, which means more people out shopping, giving Kurt more to do. He's stuck with the register all day, and knows he'll need to stay at least one extra hour to clean up the mess that rowdy customers make. How difficult is it to fold a sweater after you've shaken it out to take a look and decided it cost too much? He's been working through a long line of paying customers, but is now getting to the last one, he counts from the corner of his eye.
"How may I help you?" Kurt greets the next customer without looking, still carefully placing the purchases the last customer did in a paper bag and handing it over with the receipt.
"I'd like this bowtie, and hopefully your forgiveness," a warm voice replies, and Kurt startles at the unexpected request, looking up to see a familiar face. A tan hand slides the bowtie closer to him over the counter, while the other hand removes a pair of tinted sunglasses with pink frames. That's when he recognizes the impromptu showman from last night.
"We have a 3 for 2-offer on socks this week, but the church down the block specializes on forgiveness," Kurt teases, and smiles at the strange stranger. His eyes look like yesterday's performance was only the beginning of a very, very long night. "We also have blazers, if you have misplaced your own," he adds, taking in the v-neck he's sporting today.
The young man grins shyly, ducking his head and rubs at his tired eyes.
"Umm, I'm really sorry if I offended you last night, or got you in trouble. You were a random victim of my friends' crazy ideas for my 21st birthday."
"Happy belated birthday," Kurt smiles, because he's seriously cute, even if he looks a little hungover. Probably why he shows up 15 minutes before closing time, if he had a wild party last night. Tonight. This morning. Whatever.
"My friends, I love them, but they thought it was a good idea to re-enact some of my youthful past to celebrate me entering adulthood."
"Who needs enemies when you have friends, right?" Kurt smirks, thinking about what he's had to endure from especially Santana and Puck. "But wait, does that mean last night's show was a revival?"
"Yes…" Cutie sighs, and rubs both hands over his face. Kurt's hand itches to adjust the hair he's messed up. "I tried to serenate someone, back in high school, like this. I've never been good with romance," he admits dejectedly.
"It didn't go well?" Kurt asks carefully. Fortunately, there are no other customers waiting to pay this close to closing hour.
"I got him fired!"
"Wow! Well, my job is safe, no witnesses," he winks, earning warm laughter from the entertainer.
"I'm glad."
"Kurt," Kurt says boldly.
"Blaine," the other replies, extending his hand for a shake. So polite, so nice manners, much better than singing about toys in the bed drawer. Kurt takes his hand in his, and wow, is it wrong to think about putting his hands all over this very appealing body?
"So Kurt, am I forgiven?" Blaine asks seriously, but with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Of course," Kurt drawls, looking up at him through his eyelashes. If this young man can make a fool of himself and still dare to come back, then Kurt can be bold enough to flirt a little.
They look at each other silently, a little awkwardly, both blushing.
"So, bowtie…" Kurt says, just as Blaine says "surveillance camera!" and points to a spot on the ceiling right above them.
"I'm sorry, you first," Blaine adds quickly.
"I just wondered if you really wanted the bowtie, or if it was just something to hold on to."
"Oh, I definitely want it. I… I guess I have a thing for bowties," he admits. Today, he's wearing a v-neck t-shirt and short-hemmed capris, but it's a scorching hot May day, and if he's still feeling his party, Kurt can understand the lack of constricting ties.
So Kurt begins to ring in the purchase, and does not think about draping it around the strong column of his neck, brush it along the strong jawline, or tease his fingers in the tendrils of chest hair he can spot peaking out. Nope, he does no such thing.
"You were saying something about cameras?" he says instead.
Blaine looks confused for a second, but then he laughs.
"You have surveillance cameras. I was just thinking there's a risk someone can still fire you, and I'd hate for you to get in trouble."
"Mmm, valid point," Kurt nods, but grins. He tilts his head to the side. "I guess you would be responsible, and I don't even know your last name."
"Anderson," Blaine quickly answers.
"There must be a lot of Anderson's in New York."
"There must be," Blaine nods with him. "Maybe we should exchange numbers, just in case?"
"Yes, I believe that would be a necessary safety precaution," Kurt agrees. He shoves the card reader over to Blaine, so he can pay, while he with care folds the bowtie into one of their tiny boxes for this particular purpose. The payment goes through, and he rips off the receipt, and does the world's most cliché move. While Blaine looks, he finds a pen, and meticulously writes down his number, careful not to smudge the digits into something unreadable. Blaine is gawking, blushing, but quickly rummages in his bag. He peaks Kurt's curiosity, when he pulls out a folder of sheet music, and scribbles his name and number along the first music bar. Someone carrying sheet music in his bag is most definitely someone Kurt should give a call, if he wasn't already tempted to do so.
Blaine accepts the bag and receipt, after placing his sheet on the counter for Kurt.
"I'm gonna leave you alone now," he murmurs shyly, already stepping back to exit the store.
"I thought you wanted to get me alone?" Kurt parries boldly, which makes Blaine guffah.
"So, give me a call if the surveillance cameras give you trouble, or something?" Blaine asks, still backing.
"Or something," Kurt parrots with a smirk. With a silly, but adorable, wave Blaine leaves, and Kurt wonders how long it's expected to wait before texting someone.