Kurt was used to the smell of cigarettes in the morning. He and Quinn had reported to their usual hang out on top of the outdoor staircase above the lunch plaza. As she smoked through her fourth pack that week, Quinn flipped through her weekly Seventeen Magazine while Kurt smugly peered at passing students over his sunglasses.
"It's so fucking hot out here, Q." Kurt mumbled tossing his own cigarette to the floor and snuffing it out with his boot.
Quinn shrugged, obviously not bothered by the heat as much as Kurt who was fully clothed in distressed jeans and a tattered shirt covered by a heavy leather jacket. Just as Kurt was about to make a snippy comment about Quinn's last season's hair coloring, music blanketed the courtyard from the band playing below them.
"What the hell-" Kurt said before something cut him off yet again. Except, this time, it was someone's singing who drowned him out - a boy wearing ridiculously bright blue jeans with a matching bowtie and a sweater vest that hadn't seen the light of day since the 1980's
Blaine Fucking Anderson.
Kurt forcefully pushed people out of the way to get a better view of the spectacle that was unfolding beneath him. Anderson had gotten the dumbass cheerleaders to dance a number with him. Next to him, Quinn scoffed and looked around as people in the audience started to enjoy the number. Anderson danced along to the beat, shaking his hips along with the rest of his dancing monkeys.
A twang of annoyance struck Kurt. Fishing out a cigarette from his back pocket, he lit it and discreetly dropped it onto the wooden piano placed strategically under where he and Quinn were standing.
"Let's get out of here," urged Kurt, grabbing Quinn's arm and started steering her way from the scene.
"Why?" Quinn asked.
"You'll see soon enough," Kurt promised as they retreated to the Skank's confines behind the McKinley gym.
On his way home, Kurt stopped by the Lima Bean, the only coffee place in the town that Kurt considered tolerable. Quinn had already gone home, after congratulating Kurt on his accomplishment of ruining the number in the plaza that morning.
"It was giving me the worst migraine ever," Quinn had informed him before waving over her shoulder when Kurt dropped her off at her house.
At the coffee shop, he ordered a grande non-fat mocha and paid the smiling barista as he threw his straw wrapper into the trash. While scanning for a place to sit, his eyes came across something interesting. Kurt crossed the room over to where Blaine Anderson was sitting on a padded bench hunched over an AP Biology textbook.
"Sup, Wayne," greeted Kurt with a grin, plopping down much too close to Blaine - causing him to jerk, knocking his notes onto the floor. "Or was it Dwayne? I can never remember," Kurt continued as Blaine bent over to grab the scattered papers, giving Kurt a close up of his ass. Kurt raised an eyebrow and waited for a response, tearing his eyes off Blaine's rear to the embarrassed face below him.
"What do you want Hummel? Come here to ruin my day even more?" Blaine murmured, shuffling his papers and returned to sitting on the bench, this time slowly sliding away from the other boy.
"Now Dwayne don't tempt me-"
Blaine swerved to face Kurt, his face closing in on his. "It's Blaine," he spat at Kurt before returning to his notes. Kurt was clearly on his bad side today.
"Wow, okay. Sorry to offend your virgin sensibilities or whatever," Kurt haughtily retorted, sipping his mocha and turning away from Blaine.
"Um, I'm not a virgin," Blaine deadpanned.
Kurt choked on his coffee and Blaine watched, a bit amused, as he tried to regain his composure.
"You've had sex?" Kurt rasped out, throat burning from the large intake of scalding mocha. "With what, a Physics textbook?" he chuckled, mentally patting himself on the back for his quick comeback to the certainly surprising news.
At that, Blaine slammed his book closed and dismissed Kurt as he stood, leaving Kurt to quickly scramble for more quips, "Wait, what was the coefficient of friction?" he snorted, "Did you top or would that have broken its poor spine?"
"Bye," Blaine said not bothering to look back at him. Kurt may or may not have taken a couple of glances down to appreciate Blaine's ass one last time in his wonderfully tight pants before Blaine exited the café. Now, awkwardly alone, Kurt slowly stirred the coffee in his Lima Bean cup. He noticed an elderly couple staring at him pointedly, and he huffed, throwing his cup into the trash and fishing out is car keys.
So Anderson had gotten some action. That didn't bother Kurt. At all. Nope. But one thing was for sure;
Kurt Hummel was a virgin and he need to get laid.