Kurt sighed and grabbed the latest edition of Vogue from under the counter. Pizza-Italia was dead, but that was nothing new, it was always dead at 3pm. He took a seat. You weren't supposed sit down on the job but it was only Kurt out front, and he didn't think that the cooks would rat him out. They never did.
He flipped through the first few pages of advertisements, before finding what he was really interested in, the gossip. Kate Middleton wore what?
The bell above the door chimed, startling him from his reading. "Welcome to Pizza-Italia." He said monotone, slipping his magazine back under the counter. " What can I-" he gasped as he took in the man wearing a black ski mask, and black hoodie. "I-I" Oh god, oh god, he's a robber, what do I do?
"E-empty the register!" The man suddenly sputtered out.
Kurt wanted to react. This guy could have a gun, jesus Kurt do something! But his demands did nothing to break him from his frozen state.
"I-I said-"
Kurt finally broke free of his fear and started working to open the register, all on pure adrenaline. He grabbed a to go bag and began stuffing money in it. He emptied the register, even the change. "H-here." He flung the bag out towards the guy.
Blaine was shaking, staring at the money. Was he really doing this? This wasn't him. It couldn't be. Someone must have taken over control of his brain. As much as he needed this... He just couldn't go through with it.
This cashier wasn't helping either. He looked absolutely terrified, his face was pale, and he was breathing heavily, like he was just waiting for Blaine to pull out a gun, or knife or something. No, no, no. He couldn't let this go for much longer.
Blaine groaned as he pulled the ski mask down, revealing his face, not even thinking about the fact that this guy could totally call the cops on him if he wanted to. He slumped into a chair, letting the tears he'd been holding in at home take over him.
"Shit!" He said brokenly, he was sobbing and heaving huge breaths, he felt like he was going to suffocate. This was his shot, his only shot, and he'd blown it. There would be no dinner tonight, but he wasn't worried about his empty stomach, he was worried about Declan's.
He had to explain to him that they had to go another night with out dinner. No one wants to tell their child that, especially their three year old. "God dammit!" It was meant to be a scream, a shout of failure, a release of… something, but it came out as nothing more than a broken sigh. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this alone; he couldn't do this without her.
Kurt looked on frozen in utter confusion. Was it safe to assume this guy wasn't going to rob them anymore, or…
He watched silently as the man sobbed in the middle of the empty pizzeria. He almost wanted to get the guys out back. Maybe they could help him figure out what to do? But he didn't want to risk them calling the cops; this guy obviously had a change of heart, which makes Kurt think he really didn't want to do this in the first place.
"Are you o-okay?" He ventured once the man's sobbing had quieted to the occasional sniffle. The man's head jerked up, and Kurt saw his eyes for the first time. They were a beautiful hazel, but that wasn't why he'd noticed them. There was a look of utter defeat, and also fear, in them. Kurt's heart broke a little then. This guy wasn't a robber; he was just a guy no older than him, who was going through some really shitty times.
The guys shook his head in disbelief. I almost robbed this guy, probably scared him half to death, and he's asking me if I'm ok?
"I… no." He shook his head, his lose curls bouncing around him, making him feel like a little kid again; he rarely wore his hair like this, but he ran out of gel a few days ago. He looks back down at the table; he's too embarrassed to look at the stranger.
It's crazy to think that just seven months ago he was living comfortably, three tubs of gel in the bathroom cabinet, food every day, cable, cell phone…
Now? Nothing. He had nothing. Barely enough clothes to keep himself and Declan warm for the winter in their shitty apartment with no heat. But what else was to be expected from a place he rented for seventy five dollars a month?
"I can't take care of him by myself. I-I don't… I can't. I don't have any money, and I can't get a fucking job because I have to w-watch him, and I just can't do this anymore."
Kurt just wants to give this guy a hug, and tell him everything is going to be alright, but that'd be unfair because Kurt honestly doesn't know if it will be. He doesn't really know what this guy is talking about, but he just wants to help because he can't stand how broken he looks.
"What can I do?" He finds himself asking.
The man lifts his head again. Kurt's happy to find a small glint of hope replacing some of the defeat in his eyes.
"I…Um… just listen maybe?" Kurt nods his head fervently.
"Of course, yes, just um…" He slips off his apron, and makes his way around the counter and takes the seat across from the other man. The guy exhales a heavy breath; Kurt extends his hand carefully, as to not frighten him. He takes it; Kurt squeezes it reassuringly then lets go. "My name's Kurt," he offers.
"Blaine." The guy's eyes dart to the lone car in the parking lot. He looks like he's about to puke when he stands up, he runs a hand through his wild curls and sighs again. "How long have I been in here?" He asks almost panicked.
"Only a few minutes." Kurt assures. Blaine looks relieved, only slightly though.
"I swear I'll be back, I just- my son's in the car. I don't want to leave him in there any longer." Kurt nods silently. His eyes follow Blaine as he runs out the door to his car. He watches as Blaine plucks the sleeping child from his car seat and cradles him to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his brown curls.
Blaine comes back in as promised. He sets the sleeping boy down on a booth bench; he removes his coat, laying it over the toddler like a blanket.
He walks back over to the table awkwardly; he drags the chair out quickly making it scratch across the floor. He winces, and looks back at the toddler who is still sleeping peacefully. He sits, and begins to fidget. Why didn't I just leave? This is horrifying, and god this guy could call the police any second. "I'm really sorry about this." He says with a breathy laugh. This is what your life has come to Blaine Anderson; apologizing to a cashier you tried to rob, just so you could feed your kid, when you're only just a kid yourself. "I swear to you I didn't have any other choice, and now- god I hope he doesn't wake up here. He'll think he's getting pizza. Fuck!" Blaine's head drops into his hands as a fresh wave of tears threaten him, making his voice rough, and his throat feel like it's about to close up on him. He's suffocating. He doesn't know how much longer he can gasp for air, with no relief, until he just gives up.
"I just don't know what to do." He admits, he says it so quietly Kurt can barely make it out. Kurt realizes he doesn't know what to do either. Blaine wants to talk but it's obvious he needs so much more than that. Kurt realized at some point how skinny Blaine was, and now it's all he can think about. And he looks barely twenty, and the boy must be at least three…
"What's his name?" Blaine lowers his hands; he smiles over at the boy.
"Declan."
"He's beautiful," Kurt says softly. He sees Blaine soften too.
"Yeah, he's pretty cute, people say he looks like his dad." Kurt laughs out loud, a little too loudly. He quickly clasps his hand over his mouth; he's relieved to find Declan's still asleep.
"And his mom?"
"Drunken high school hook-up. She stuck around for the first two and a half years before she split. She was angry when I told her I couldn't marry her, and she just took off, left us. I was staying with her at her parents place. They kicked me out after she left, they were mad at me for 'pushing her away.' I've been struggling ever since to just stay on my feet."
Kurt felt the tears pooling in his eyes as he looked upon Blaine spilling his heart out, he himself threatening to fall apart, again.
"It's hard enough having a kid at 17, then to not have any support, it just makes it a hundred times worse. Before I could leave him with his grandparents when I needed to go to work. Now I have to pay someone to watch him. It cost more an hour for someone to watch him, than I get paid. Most of the time I just take him to the park. He gets to play, I get to play my guitar and sing, maybe get ten bucks. Enough for the dollar menu for a day or two."
Silence settles over the empty restaurant.
"I'm sorry," Kurt says, "I just don't really know what to say." But Blaine just smiles sadly at him.
"Really you just sitting here and listening is more than enough. Also the fact that you didn't call the cops… Just, thank you."
Kurt shrugs, "you didn't take anything so no harm, no foul, right? Um… If I go out back for a second do you swear you won't run?"
"Oh god, I spoke too soon about the whole not calling the cops thing didn't I?" Kurt laughs lightly, he finds Blaine's on top of the table, he covers it with his, as he says, "of course not I just have to talk to one of the guys out back. I swear I won't even touch the phone." He removes his hand from Blaine's; he holds it out in front of Blaine, "pinky promise." Blaine lets out the most genuine laugh Kurt has ever heard, because really? What is this, third grade?
Blaine finds himself joining his pinky with the other man's anyway. "Pinky promise."
"Daddy?" Declan's sleep filled call startles Blaine. He moves to his son quickly, scooping him into his arms, he braces him on his hip.
"What is it buddy?"
"Where are we?" Blaine curses himself for staying here too long. Kurt's been in the back for about ten minutes, Blaine's starting to wonder it he's ever coming back, and now he's got to tell Declan, who hasn't eaten since last night, that he can't have any of the delicious greasy Italian food that he's smelling.
"Daddy's just visiting a friend, but we got to go now, ok?" Declan looks disappointed, but he doesn't say anything, he just rests his head on Blaine's shoulder.
"Ok daddy," he sighs into Blaine's ear. Blaine's heart breaks but there's nothing he can do about it, so he begins to tug his coat on (not an easy feat with a three year old clinging to your shoulder.) "Daddy?" Declan starts just as Blaine's pulling the door open.
"Yeah buddy?"
"I'm… I-" Blaine pulls his son away from his shoulder so he can look into his beautiful, innocent, baby blue eyes.
"You know you can tell me anything right, Declan?" Declan shakes his head but avoids Blaine's eyes.
"It's just, I'm really hungry. But I know how sad you get when I say that sometimes, and I don't want to make you cry, daddy." Blaine can hardly control the tsunami of silent tears that escape him, and all he wants is to stop crying because his son just fucking told him he didn't want to make him cry, but how could not… a three year old should not have to worry about going hungry, or making his father cry, or anything. A three year old should only worry about what toy they were going to play with next.
"I'll get you some dinner. Don't worry bud, I'll work all this out. Don't you worry about anything." Blaine's just reached the car when he hears someone calling out to him. It's Kurt.
"Blaine where are you going?" Kurt calls as he runs over to them.
"Is this your friend, daddy?"
"Uh- yeah, buddy. Kurt what are you-" Kurt just smiles and put his pointer finger to his lip, then he turns to the boy who has become shy all of a sudden.
"You must be Declan." Kurt says. The boy just nods. "Oh good, cause I've got a pizza that says it's for a Declan, so it must be for you then!" The boy's eyes go wide as saucers; he looks at Blaine in amazement. In turn Blaine looks at Kurt in shock.
"Kurt," he whispers, his voice absolutely wrecked from emotion.
"You got us pizza, daddy?" Declan asks as he bounces in Blaine's arms, not even trying to control his excitement. Blaine wants nothing less than to say no to him, but he can't pay for this…
"Kurt I can't-"
"Oh please, it's on the house." Kurt waves it away as if he's being ridiculous. Paying? Who ever heard of paying?
And if it was just Blaine he would have never taken Kurt's handout, but he's got a hungry three year old who is absolutely giddy with the promise of pizza, and he wouldn't turn down Kurt's pity even if he could.
"Thank you," he mouths. Again, Kurt waves it away.
Kurt grabs a booster seat for Declan, and then brings out their pizza. It's just cheese but Blaine doesn't think he's even seen something so delicious looking in his life. He cuts up Declan's into little bite sized pieces before chowing down himself. Kurt brings him out a soda, and a juice for Declan. They suck them down in seconds. Kurt just laughs and gets them refills.
After his third piece Declan slumps back against the booster seat. "I'm stuffed," he says. Blaine's not even sure where he learned that from because he's sure that in the past seven months neither one of them would have been able to say that.
"Me too," Blaine smiles down at his full child. He looks so happy. He hasn't looked this happy in weeks. "Can you say thank you to Kurt please?"
"Thank you for the pizza, Kurt!" Declan leans over in his chair to wrap his little arms around Kurt's middle. Kurt laughs; lifting him out of his seat he hugs the boy closer before setting him down. Declan goes running to his father who takes a napkin and begins wiping the grease from the boy's face.
"Anytime." Kurt assures. He makes sure to meet Blaine's gaze so he knows he really means anytime. Blaine nods, his eyes teary again, but he sniffles and forces them down. At least this time they're happy tears.
"Ok buddy what do you say we let Kurt get back to work, huh?"
"Ok," the boy sighs, " but do you think we could come see Kurt again soon? I like him, he's really nice." Blaine laughs at his son.
"You just want some more pizza." Declan looks shocked, how dare you accuse me of such a thing!
"But that's not the only reason! I promise!" That earns another giggle from Blaine, and even one from Kurt.
"You can come see me anytime you want, Declan. Well anytime, Monday-Thursday, 12pm to 6pm. Well um- here," Kurt grabbed a napkin and the pen that he always kept handy incase he has to write a specialty order down. "Here's my number, call me if you need anything." Blaine stared at the ten digits incredulously. He came here to rob this place and he was leaving with the number of a guy who might have just saved his and his son's life. Not even that the pizza saved them from starving, no, Blaine could have found food somewhere, Kurt had given him hope, and that was something not very many people could do. And he hadn't even said anything special; he hadn't given him that "it'll all work out" crap. He just listened, he let Blaine tell his story, and he didn't call the cops on him. He let Declan be a careless three year old again, sucking down apple juice and scarfing down pizza, giggling the whole time. Blaine had three dollars in his pocket. He could go busk for an hour, maybe make five more dollars. The leftovers would hold them over for another lunch, and he would go busking early tomorrow and stay out late, as long as it wasn't too cold. He could get them ahead. He could do this.
Kurt had helped him in more ways than he could possibly know, because to Kurt he'd only given them a free pizza. He'd only filled up their empty bellies for one night. But to Blaine he'd filled him with so much hope that he was sure he would never go hungry again.
"Thank you so much."
"Blaine, really, I'm just glad to see you smile. I'm just glad to see him smile." He pointed to Declan who was twirling around in the middle of the restaurant, sugar high from the three cups of apple juice he sucked down. "And you know, you don't have to wait till you're starving to call me. If you need anything, a babysitter, someone to talk to, I'm all ears, and I'm not too bad with kids. And if busking isn't getting you enough I'm sure I could ask my dad for a favor, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind looking after Declan in his office, he can't do any of the heavy lifting since his heart attack, so he's stuck in there all day, I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company. He owns Hummel tire and lube, down on Park. You know it?"
"Uh- I think so, yeah."
"Know anything about cars?"
"I- yeah I used to fix up old cars with my dad. It was all part of his master plan to turn me straight. It didn't work." Kurt feels the heat rise up in his cheeks. He smiles shyly says, "good to know. Anyway," he adds quickly, "Promise you'll call if you need anything?"
"Pinky promise," he extends his pinky out and Kurt hooks onto it with his own.
"Pinky promise." They smile at each other. Kurt looks into Blaine's eyes and for the first time he sees no defeat or fear, he just sees joy, and hope, and Kurt didn't know he needed to see that until right then. "I'll talk to my dad as soon as I'm out of here, and I'll let you know what he says when you call, alright?"
"Honestly Kurt this is just too-"
Kurt groans, "Ugh please don't, this is not too much. This is called being nice. Now shoo, go bring that boy to the park so he can run some of his crazies out, and you can get some change to call me with later."
"I will I-"
"Pinky promise, I know."