Kurt swore roundly as the heavy, fogged-up door he had shouldered open with practiced ease just moments earlier while deftly juggling coffee cup, gloves and coat bounced off someone entering the softly-lit interior of Michelle's Gourmet House of Coffee and knocked his grande non-fat mocha out of his hand. Scalding coffee drenched the front of his deep-purple silk shirt. 'Why can't you look where you're going, idiot?' he ranted, dropping the heavy woollen coat and soft leather gloves he had been carrying and using both hands to hold his shirt away from his body, waving it vigorously in the frigid air to cool his burning torso. 'Do you know how much this shirt cos-'
His tirade was interrupted by a groan and he finally looked down to see the man the door had hit, sprawled on the snowy pavement. To say the guy was gorgeous was like saying Central Park was big. Olive skin, melting hazel eyes and black hair slicked back under too much gel. What a pity his body was hidden under a black woollen peacoat; Kurt would have liked to continue cataloguing the stranger's good points. And from where he was standing they were all good!
As Kurt stared transfixed, HazelEyes struggled to lever himself up one-handedly, his right arm cradled protectively against his body. But even as he tried to push up onto one knee it buckled beneath him and, with a sharp cry, he collapsed awkwardly back onto the ground. The noise brought Kurt out of his frozen state and he dropped to his knees next to the stranger, ignoring the frigid, muddy slush staining his white Armarni skinny jeans. The man was slumped on his side, his weight braced on the forearm of his uninjured arm and his head hanging low. His laboured breathing sounded overly-loud in the blizzard-blanketed hush of New York's first serious snowfall.
'Oh my God, I am so sorry!' Kurt's hands hovered over the stranger, desperate to help but hesitant to inflict any additional pain. "Are you hurt? Of course you're hurt. Stupid question, Kurt! You just knocked a cute guy on his ass and he's obviously in pain, yet here you are asking him if he's eeep!-".
A girlish squeal was surprised out of him as long, slender fingers closed around his knee, effectively silencing him. His shocked gaze flew up to lock with those dreamy hazel eyes, currently dark with pain, and he tentatively lifted his own hand. It hovered momentarily over the stranger's before coming to rest, butterfly-light, on top of it.
"Although the rambling is cute it's not getting us anywhere so maybe you could just call an ambulance because it doesn't look like I'll be getting home under my own steam anytime soon?"
The pain-roughened tenor brought Kurt out of his hazel-eyes-induced trance and he nodded vigorously before using his free hand to mime zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
HazelEyes chuckled quietly, but the chuckle morphed into a gasp of pain as the movement jarred his injuries. Groaning, he curled in on himself, his grasp on Kurt's knee tightening painfully and his forehead lowering to rest on Kurt's thigh as he panted harshly through the sharp pain radiating from his arm.
The fingers digging sharply into his knee elicited a muffled yelp from Kurt and he fumbled in the front pocket of his skinny jeans for his phone, cursing their tightness as he struggled to extract the device without jarring HazelEyes any further. Once it was out he thumbed the emergency number with digits that shook slightly.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up..,' he muttered desperately.
Kurt's free hand instinctively moved to cover the one that was still grasping his knee like a vice. A beat, and then the hand under his turned and laced their fingers together; clung tightly. Kurt tightened his hold, riding out the waves of pain with HazelEyes and murmuring words of encouragement.
"That's it; squeeze as tight as you want, Sweetie. You're doing great. Try to breathe through the pain - short breaths like the ones they tell woman giving birth-Hello? Yes! I need an ambulance urgently please… Michelle's Gourmet House of Coffee on East 45th… Yes, that's right… A man has been injured…"
"Blaine…"
Startled, Kurt's attention returned to the man clinging to his hand "What?" Apparently the manners that his parents had drilled into him vanished under pressure and/or the in the presence of a gorgeous guy. "I mean, I beg your pardon?"
"Name's… Blaine."