For anyone concerned, Blaine is 25 and Kurt is 19 in this fic!
Blaine was having a hard time controlling his emotions that night.
First they'd gotten the call that a young man was unconscious and bleeding in a Brooklyn alley, probably the victim of a hate crime, and Blaine's blood had run cold. Memories of his own attack in Ohio nine years earlier had rushed back to him - the cold hard asphalt against his face, the searing pain of his broken arm - but he couldn't allow them any space in his brain. He had to be focused and ready to treat this man's injuries, as that was kind of the whole point of his job as a paramedic.
Then he'd almost had to scrape his jaw off the ambulance floor when they arrived at the scene, because under the blood and bruises, this man was stunningly attractive - just Blaine's type, if he was being honest. He was a sucker for long legs, smooth skin, and great hair, especially when the guy possessing those traits looked relatively near Blaine's age, maybe a few years younger.
Not the time, Anderson! he chastised himself as he strapped the man's shoulders to the backboard and affixed a neck brace, his partner Sarah taking care of the man's lower half.
He snapped out of his reverie when the other man cracked open his eyes and moaned.
"Almost to the ambulance, honey, don't worry. We'll fix you right up," Blaine said, low and soothing. He'd almost perfected his 'comforting paramedic' voice after two years on the job.
"Should see...the other guys," the man choked out, prompting Blaine to let out a soft snicker.
"How many were there?" Blaine asked, hoping he could keep the man alert as they loaded him in the ambulance.
"Two. Third in the car...though. First victim...got away," the man said, pausing for breath in a way that made Blaine think a couple of his ribs had to be cracked.
"You weren't the target? Sorry, honey," Blaine said when the other man winced upon being loaded. "But you're locked and loaded now. We're on our way to the hospital."
"Good. And no...wasn't the target," the man said. Blaine started dabbing away at the blood on his face as he continued, "Heard noises...walking home. Ran in to...break it up. Turned on me...and he got out."
"Can you tell me your name? Need to start a file," Blaine said, seeing that Sarah was ready with the paperwork.
"Kurt. Kurt Hummel," Kurt said.
"And your age?"
"Nineteen."
Blaine tried not to let his brief mental wince show. That was a little younger than he'd thought, especially once Kurt had started telling his story. Blaine wouldn't have expected a teenager to put himself in danger for someone else like that - but then again, teenagers were always likely to act without thinking about all the consequences, he supposed.
"S'your name?" Kurt asked, cutting off Blaine's reverie. He moaned again when they hit a pothole. "Chest hurts."
"I'm Blaine. And I think you've got a couple of broken ribs, Kurt. Let me get you some painkillers - you allergic to anything?"
"No," Kurt said, breathing raggedly.
"Don't breathe too deep, it'll only make your ribs hurt worse," Blaine said, taking the proffered supplies from Sarah. "I'm going to start an IV, okay?"
"Do I have...to look?" Kurt asked, going paler. "Don't like needles."
"Look away, honey, I'll do it quick," Blaine said, heart aching for him. "Don't close your eyes, though. I don't want you to drift off when you're probably concussed."
Kurt averted his gaze as much as was possible with his neck brace, and Blaine got the IV going as fast as he could. He managed to get the vein on his first try, luckily enough.
"And we're done," Blaine said.
"And we're here," Sarah said, pushing the doors open. Blaine could see a couple of nurses waiting with a gurney through the windows.
"Is there someone I can call for you, Kurt? My shift is ending...ten minutes ago, actually," Blaine said, checking his watch.
"I still have six hours, so I'll do the other forms. You just make sure someone's coming for Kurt, okay?" Sarah said, the unspoken make sure he's taken care of flashing in her eyes. Blaine assumed she was thinking of her own son, sixteen and freshly out, as she had informed him last weekend.
Blaine simply nodded back to her, trying to convey his own understanding. He hopped out of the ambulance as the nurses unloaded Kurt and his IV, following them inside.
"My dad," Kurt said, reminding Blaine of his earlier question. "And my roommate. Rachel. Numbers..in my phone." He pulled the device out slowly, gritting his teeth as he moved his arm. "No password."
"I'll call them, I promise," Blaine said to him. To the waiting nurses, he said "Kurt Hummel, age nineteen, probable broken ribs and concussion, along with plenty of contusions, as you can see."
At that, they wheeled him off, leaving Blaine alone with Kurt's phone. He quickly pulled up the Contacts app and found the right numbers, making the calls almost on autopilot - this wasn't his first time informing a patient's loved ones of what had happened. Kurt's father promised to hop a plane as fast as he could, while his roommate shrieked in dismay and swore she'd get there as soon as possible.
Once the calls were made, Blaine wasn't sure what to do with himself. He had no good reason to wait there, but something felt wrong about leaving Kurt in the hospital by himself, even if he did it all the time with his other patients.
Thankfully, another nurse walked into the vestibule just then. "Blaine?"
"That's me," he said, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Kurt Hummel's asking to see you, if that's alright."
"Oh, sure, lead the way," Blaine said, making an after you motion. He followed her silently through the halls, giving her a quick "thank you" when she pointed to a nearby room.
"Blaine!" Kurt said when he entered. "My guardian angel. You're still here!"
"I wouldn't just take off with your phone," Blaine said, noting a glassy look in Kurt's eye that indicated just how strong his painkillers were.
"Oh, my phone!" Kurt said, extending his free hand - the other had an IV drip. Blaine smiled and handed it over, watching as Kurt started scrolling through something before looking up and pouting at him.
"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, concerned.
"You didn't put your number in," Kurt said, sounding genuinely dejected. "Now I'm gonna have to get in another accident if I want to see you again."
"Whoa, hey, don't do that," Blaine said, eyes widening. "I didn't know you wanted it, Kurt, I'm sorry."
"Well I want it," Kurt said, adorably petulant. "I don't wanna get beat up again, but I still really wanna see you."
"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. "I mean, this isn't just the pain meds talking?"
"Uh uh. Gimme," Kurt said, and Blaine couldn't help but laugh.
"Okay, whatever you want," Blaine said, holding out his hand for Kurt's phone, smiling again when Kurt nearly threw it at him in his drug-addled haste. He quickly typed in his name and number and handed the phone back.
"You didn't text yourself my number!" Kurt said after another moment of scrolling. "How are you gonna know it's me?"
"I don't think I'll forget you that easily," Blaine said, trying to demur the point. He didn't want to get too enmeshed in Kurt's life just in case it really was the drugs talking for him.
"Really?" Kurt asked, a hopeful gleam shining through his dilated pupils.
"Of course not," Blaine said.
Before he could continue, though, a tiny brunette whirlwind entered the room.
"Kurt! Oh my God, are you gonna be okay?" she said, clearly panicked.
"I'm just gonna go," he said softly, waving a quick goodbye to Kurt, who pouted again before the girl who must have been Rachel drew his attention to her.
He headed out of the hospital and towards the ambulance garage, which was on the opposite side of the grounds. Sarah had already finished the paperwork from Kurt's pick-up, so he signed and dated it before heading towards the nearest subway station, ready to go home after a long shift.
The commute home passed uneventfully, and he collapsed into bed almost the second he was in the door, pausing only to strip down to his underwear and brush his teeth. He woke up the next morning - well, almost afternoon - to a nearly dead cell phone and a barrage of new texts.
Blaine! It's me! Kurt!
You didn't forget me, right?
I haven't forgotten you. I thought you were an angel when I saw you the first time.
And your eyes are super pretty.
So is your smile.
And your everyhnhjnghnk
That last message was a little concerning to Blaine. He put his phone on to charge before typing back a text of his own.
Everything okay?
He put a pot of coffee on to brew and took a shower, knowing he'd just sit by his phone and obsess if he didn't occupy himself. After all, Kurt probably had more pressing concerns at the moment then texting back a paramedic he may or may not remember well.
As it turned out, Blaine didn't have much to worry about.
Oh my god, I'm so sorry. My roommate took my phone away last night when she realized who I was texting, and I can't say I blame her. I'm not usually so loopy, I swear.
We've all done dumb things while on painkillers. I started singing Queen songs at the top of my lungs when I got my wisdom teeth out, and my friends still have it on video.
Now that's a story I'd love to hear. Maybe in person? I'm being released tomorrow.
Blaine almost choked on his coffee. Was Kurt asking him on a date? Or was he just trying to make up for his texting spree?
Either way, Blaine knew his answer.
3 pm? There's a coffee shop just across the street from the hospital that makes killer lattes.
Sounds perfect. I'll see you then, Blaine.
See you then, Kurt.
By the time 3 pm the next day rolled around, Blaine thought he must have worn a rut in his floorboards. He couldn't decide if Kurt's interest in meeting up with him was genuine or if he felt obligated to meet up in person to apologize for his behavior, which Blaine decidedly did not want. He didn't know anything about Kurt, true, but he was very interested in learning. Something about Kurt just had him hooked.
"Blaine! Hi," Kurt said, drawing Blaine's attention away from the overhead menu boards, which he hadn't actually been reading. "Sorry I'm late."
"No worries," Blaine said, smiling. "You're probably going to be moving slower for a while."
"Yeah, you could say that," Kurt said with a sigh. "Shall we? It's my treat. I want to apologize for my texts from the other night."
Blaine felt his heart sink in his chest a little. "Yeah. Sure," he said, hoping for a tone of nonchalance.
They ordered and got their drinks fairly quickly before heading to a two-top table near the back.
"Here, let me get that," Blaine said, scooting out a chair for Kurt. "They probably told you not to bend too much."
"My knight in shining armor," Kurt said with a smile that scrunched up his nose ever so slightly.
They sat and sipped their drinks in silence for a moment before Blaine spoke up.
"Did - did you just ask me here out of obligation?" Blaine asked quietly. "Because I'm really not offended by your messages, Kurt, I swear-"
"It wasn't just obligation," Kurt interrupted, blushing beet red. "I mean, I do feel bad about those texts, but mostly because I wouldn't have tipped my hand so soon had we met under other circumstances, and I don't want you to think of me as some annoying kid-"
"I don't," Blaine said, feeling himself flush a little as well. "Believe me, I don't. I was so afraid you were only asking me because you thought you had to."
"And I was so afraid you were only saying yes because you thought you had to!"
"Glad to know we're both wrong, then," Blaine said, smiling gently.
"Agreed," Kurt said, smiling back.
They passed another moment in silence, this one much more companionable than the last.
"So, Kurt Hummel. Tell me about yourself," Blaine said finally.
"Oh God, way to put me on the spot," Kurt said, huffing. "Um. Well. I'm a freshman at NYADA, and even though I've been here all year, I just saw my first Broadway show last week."
"Ooh, what was it?" Blaine asked. "I go to shows whenever I can, it's my favorite thing about living in New York."
"Les Mis," Kurt replied. "I've never seen it live before, and the staging was-"
"More like the costumes were-"
"Oh my God, the costumes-"
Blaine and Kurt quickly fell into rhapsodies about the wonders of that production, and then the wonders of other shows Kurt had managed to bootleg, and then the shows they wished they could get the chance to see live. Before Blaine knew it, hours had passed, though it felt like they had only been talking for a little while.
"Crap, Rachel's probably wondering where I am," Kurt said, checking his watch. "She doesn't want me to be out after dark for a while."
"I can understand where she's coming from," Blaine said, pushing away from the table. He crossed over to Kurt to help him get up, too. "That will make things a little difficult, though?"
"Why?" Kurt asked curiously.
"Because I was really hoping to take you out to dinner this weekend," Blaine said, biting his lip bashfully.
The smile that spread across Kurt's face relieved Blaine's moment of uncertainty. "I think she'd be okay with that. God knows I annoyed her enough by rambling on about Blaine the hot angel paramedic while I was drugged up the other night."
"Did you really?"
"Those texts I sent you weren't lies, Blaine. I was just a little too high to keep myself from sending them," Kurt said, blushing again.
Blaine leaned in slowly and rose on his toes to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "I may have been trying to control my thoughts about you when I first laid eyes on you, too."
Kurt's face erupted into a large, sunny smile for a moment. "Ow. Fuck, I forgot about my split lip."
"Hence why I kissed you on the forehead," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand gently in his. "Also, kissing could be an infection hazard."
"Ugh, of course I manage to land a date I can't kiss," Kurt said, mock-frustrated. "Just my luck."
"That cut should heal pretty quickly, though, it's not that big," Blaine said, examining it quickly. "I'll be sure to let you know when you're safe to kiss."
"I look forward to it," Kurt said.
(Sure enough, Blaine let Kurt know his lip was fully healed by planting a deep kiss on him as they left Wicked a couple weeks later. Kurt didn't appear to be too put off by his methods.)