Notes: Finally, my obligatory coffee shop AU for day two of Summer Klaine Week. ;) There isn't much left to do with this trope that the fandom hasn't already tackled so I've kept this short and sweet with a dash of Santana's spice. (FYI, Santana is the best part of this fic.)
The first time they meet, Kurt's seminar class runs over and therefore he has to buy a coffee from the shop next door during his break rather than the shop near his apartment before his shift. He orders a small non-fat mocha, because he doesn't have time for anything else, and then he sees the cute guy at the machine. He stares while the guy makes his coffee – hair curling under a light layer of product, a strong profile with contradictorily feminine eyelashes which are long enough to knock a butterfly off course, shapely muscles under a white polo and rolled-up mustard yellow skinny jeans under a brown apron, and brown Sperrys.
God, he's gorgeous.
"Small mocha," he calls in a voice sitting softly and comfortably between baritone and tenor. He finds Kurt's eyes (his are hazel, green and brown playing with the afternoon light coming through the shop window) and smiles a smile that warms Kurt's insides in a way they haven't since Carmen Tibedeaux herself complemented Kurt's audition for NYADA.
"Thanks," Kurt says breathily.
"My pleasure," the cute guy says breathily back.
Then the next customer in line jostles Kurt and he realises his break is practically over, so he backs away from the counter curling his fingers in a wave and then hurries back to the vintage boutique next door.
And then he realises he doesn't even know the guy's name and has to stop himself from banging his head on a mannequin.
He has the same shift for the next two days and returns to the coffee shop before, during and after, but he doesn't see the cute guy again. He doesn't work at all over the three days after that and he can't afford to make the trip just for someone he exchanged one sentence with, so he spends his days off the way he usually does: finishing as much homework as he can between cups of crappy homemade instant coffee. He would just write off the nameless barista as one of the many potentials that comes from living in New York but, well, he does live with Rachel.
"Just imagine, you tired off your feet, the last of a thousand customers finally leaving, and he brings you a free coffee because you deserve it after dealing with all those horrid people. And then he'll allow you to dress him up in all those cute clothes. Did you say he had a nice voice? Maybe he sings! You could entertain customers from both your workplaces with duets about true love. And you could do your homework there and he could be your model and bring you coffee and cookies whenever you want. Wouldn't it be romantic?"
Of course, he does live with Santana as well: "Listen up, Grown Up Gay, because I'm abouts to tell you how it is. The last time you looked at a guy and didn't see a competitor to crush – which, by the way, you fail to do properly, because hate sex is one of the hottest things ever – was when you were a doe-eyed freshman, so if you don't gets your freak on with the coffee hottie, my vagina will actually shrivel up from just being near you."
And there isn't really much he can say to that.
"What if he doesn't come again today?" Blaine asks. Geri rolls her eyes from where she's wiping tables on the other side of the room.
"Are you always this clingy?"
"He's so handsome though," he sighs. It's been a week since he saw the Mystery Angel (with the Arms – but he keeps this parenthetical aside a secret from everyone) but he has apparently returned a few times around Blaine's shifts.
"Handsome," Geri mutters to herself, laughing.
"So handsome," Blaine corrects, smile still a little dreamy.
"Blaine, take the till!" Liza says, manhandling Blaine away from espresso machine and shoving him towards the counter.
"Okay, okay." He shakes her off and laughs, and then turns around with a smile. He asks for an order, calls it out and writes it on the cup, and when he turns back to face the front, Mystery Angel (with the Arms) is closing the door behind him. Their eyes immediately meet and Blaine probably gets the order from the second customer on automatic but he barely notices.
And then it's Mystery Angel (with the Arms)' turn. Blaine sighs out a greeting and then asks for his order. Medium low fat mocha with a shot of caramel.
"And your name?" Blaine asks, trying to sound cool.
Mystery Angel (with the Arms)' smile brightens. "Kurt." Kurt. The sound of music. Quite literally. "And you're Blaine."
"I – yeah," Blaine flusters, not sure how Mystery Angel – how Kurt knows his name. Did he ask about him? But then, why wouldn't his coworkers tell him? Wait, he's wearing a name tag. But in his defence, pretty boys make him dumb. He passes the cup off to Liza and takes Kurt's money and then drowns a little bit in Kurt's ocean eyes. There are no more customers so Blaine asks, "So, are you new to the area?"
"Actually, I work next door," Kurt says, pointing to the left.
"That's the clothes shop, right?" Blaine asks, eyes flicking down Kurt's clothes. Sleek, fitting, complementary, a perfect blend of modern and vintage, male and female. The overall effect is mouthwatering.
"Yeah. Fashion is one of my passions. In high school, Vogue was basically my Bible."
"You look amazing," Blaine offers. "I love your brooch."
Kurt beams at him. It's almost blinding, but even if it were Blaine wouldn't look away. "Thank you!"
"Mocha up," Liza interrupts, sliding the cup across the counter. Kurt picks it up and smiles at her in thanks, and when he turns back to Blaine his expression is somehow softer. And also regretful.
"I have to get back now but . . . see you later?"
"See you later," Blaine confirms. He returns Kurt's wave this time, and holds in his dreamy sigh until he can't even see Kurt through the windows. He reaches out to wrap an arm around Liza's shoulders and says, "I'm in love."
Kurt has the same shifts every week, but Blaine's change according to what days and times he'll be in the middle school he's working at to complete his degree. It's frustrating for both of them.
Still, they manage to steal short conversations as the days then weeks go by. Blaine says his passion is music, and slowly he tells Kurt about the drunken monologue he went on the summer before his senior year of high school about wanting to make art and help people. And now, he's in his final year of a double major music and education degree. Kurt goes to the top performing arts school in the country, majoring in vocal performance and minoring in costume design. They both go home and look through their iTunes libraries.
Blaine lives with his college roommate from his sophomore year (he doesn't mention the roommate from his freshman year); Kurt lives with two of his friends from high school.
They're both single.
But Blaine keeps forgetting to slip Kurt his number on the cardboard sleeve of his cup, and the only time Blaine manages to catch Kurt at work, they get so distracted by how well Blaine's style meshes with a good selection of the clothes that they forget about asking the other on a date. Sometimes the only time they see each other for days is in the coffee shop during a rush period: before and after work, and the lunch hour. And Kurt almost always has homework.
After almost two months, Santana threatens to stake out the coffee shop from opening time to closing and ask Blaine out for him if Kurt doesn't do it himself. He barters himself another month before she does that – after all, they know each other now, a bit, and Kurt hasn't had a boyfriend in a year and a half.
Serendipitously, only two days later, they both leave work at the same time, and the staff entrance to both workplaces is in the alley running between the buildings. Kurt comes out the boutique, laughing at something one of his coworkers said, and Blaine isn't so far down the alley that he can't hear it.
He turns around and exclaims, "Kurt!"
"Blaine!" Kurt smiles. Teeth and all. "Finished for the day?"
"Yeah. Got any plans?"
"Only me, my couch and season two of Cougar Town."
"I guess working so much is tiring . . ."
"Blaine, will you go on a date with me?"
Blaine's smile is so wide it pushes his eyes half shut.
"It would be my pleasure."