A short one-shot, AU/first meeting-story, just a scene that wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it down. So here you go!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, not really any fashionable pants either.
"Kurt, look, my ovaries hurt!" Rachel exclaims as she grabs his overarm.
"Is it that time of the month again?" Kurt asks confused. Sharing an apartment with Rachel in Bushwick has both its ups and downs, and one of the downs is that Miss Berry can be quite the drama queen when she's on her period. Of course she soldiers on and ignores all kinds of pains, cramps and yucky stuff girls have to deal with if it's about a rehearsal or even an performance. But as soon as she's back home, her divattiude blossoms, and it's up to Kurt to brew her tea, warm heat packets, do midnight runs for tampons, massage her feet, and distract her from herself by telling her about all the fame and glory that waits for them in some kind of future. He loves her, and they try to be there for each other amidst demanding educations and part time-jobs. But there are some things the 'best gay' could learn to live without. Rachel needs a boyfriend, stat – or Kurt needs a boyfriend where he can hide away a few days each month. He thought he had control of her cycle, though, and didn't expect them to menstruate until next week.
"No, I said 'look'", she hisses, and lifts his arm as if she's going to use his limb to point in the right direction. He shakes her off of him; he will not be known as someone who points impolitely. He doesn't need her to give directions either, because as soon as he lifted his eyes from a heart-stopping beautifully purchase on their much earned day off – a set of hand-carved leather cuffs bought from a booth manned by a toothless man with the longest grey beard Kurt's ever seen – he sees what caught Rachel's attention.
"Our ovaries indeed," he mutters, and drinks up the oh so pleasing sight. Kurt hasn't thought much about wanting kids or not – finding someone to potentially have them with comes higher up on his list. He's still young, he has an education to focus on, and he needs to live somewhere with walls instead of curtains before he can imagine having a grown-up life. So kids is a fairly neutral topic in his mind. But he's not heartless. And the sight of a young man, probably only a year or two older than they are, dancing bare-feet in the grass with a girl on his hip gets to him. It doesn't help that the girl is leaning backwards in his embrace until her long, dark hair is flowing in the wind from the speed of their twirls, and the sun is catching their dance, embracing them with a halo that frames this very pleasing sight. The young man is strikingly handsome, with mustard pants rolled far up on his ankles, he's wearing a polo that tells them enough about his broad shoulders, lovely arms and delicious waist. And even on a hot Sunday at a fair in the neighbourhood park he's put on a bowtie. A pair of bright yellow sunglasses are dangling from his backpocket, and if Kurt has been daydreaming about a family of his own it would probably look exactly like this. Someone who obviously has a sense of rhythm, isn't afraid of being himself, buys amazing clothes and wears them well, shows patience and kindness (because Kurt knows he may be a little high-maintenance now and then, he's well aware of that – it's why Rachel and he goes so wonderfully and terribly along all at once), and has the kind of face Kurt would like to fall asleep to while watching and be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.
Not that he's rushing anything; he's just enjoying his day out and admiring the sights his neighbourhood has to offer. Crushing on a random stranger is even worse than when he wanted Sam back in high school, because obviously this one has a family of his own regardless of which way he swings (even if Kurt's gaydar is pinging with longing).
"Kurt…" Rachel whines in his ear, in that shrill frequency only he and dogs can hear.
"I know…" he sighs. They've both been single for far too long, and he isn't buying the story he gives friends and family about giving his education a priority. Oh, he wants the career – but he wants someone special to share it with. Someone special as in not Rachel, but someone he'd like to see naked or share the things he's never managed to put words to neither for his dad nor Rachel.
"Ice cream?" Rachel asks hopefully, nodding at the gazebo-shaped kiosk in the middle of the park.
"No," Kurt instantly objects. They're not there, this is not a pity-party. This is supposed to be a day to relax from work and books and manuscripts and choreography. This is for fun, not for longing.
"Okay, but then you have to win me a teddy bear. Your aim is far superior," Rachel decides, and pulls him by his hand towards one of the booths where you'll win something if you can knock down enough tin boxes. Kurt's pretty sure it has to be rigged somehow, because he's never seen anyone with the biggest first prize-bears.
They wait in the fairly short line considering the crowd in the park, and from the corner of his eye he watches Mr. Ovaries end the dance with the little girl, and hand in hand they walk away.
He's not disappointed. He's just…
God, he needs a boyfriend!
"We're up!" Rachel jumps excitedly, and Kurt just knows she's already considering which stuffed animal she wants. They don't have unicorns, or he's pretty sure she'd ask for one of those as she considers herself an honorary gay, with her dads and Kurt and everything.
The boxes are most definitely rigged, 'cause it's impossible that his aim or strength is that shitty. Merely six out of ten boxes down gives Rachel the choice from the fourth shelf. Kurt shouldn't be surprised that she picks the glow-in-the-dark-stars. Neither is he surprised that he finds himself delegated with the task of gluing them to her ceiling later that night.
"Okay, let's do something you want now," Rachel offers, and tucks her prize away in her purse. "I saw someone selling caramelized apples, that's almost a healthy snack?" she suggests.
"I had my heart set on cotton candy, actually, I'm feeling nostaah!" Kurt is interrupted by something tiny and speedy slamming into his knees, almost buckling him over. He looks down to see the familiar face of a little girl beaming up at him, one arm wrapped as far around his knees as she can get it, and the other clutching an ice cream cone. The ice cream is slowly trickling down Kurt's left leg, and his heart skips a beat. He saved his tips for two months to afford those.
"Florence Annie Anderson, I told you to sit still!" the harried young man yells and runs towards them. Kurt can appreciate the intensity of his run and the expressive face. It all tells a story of compassion, love and fear.
He kneels down by Kurt's feet to talk to the little girl, who lets go of Kurt.
"You scared me when you jumped down from the bench and ran away. I don't want to lose you among all the people here," he exclaims surprisingly calmly, and Kurt adores that he's talking to her like a person, and not all that jibberish baby-talk. The man hugs the girl tightly. "Whatever caught your attention so badly, little girl?"
"All the colours!" she beams, and turns around to hug Kurt's ice-covered leg again.
"Oh my gosh!" the young man exclaims, "are those Paul Smith?"
Kurt looks surprised at the man kneeling by his feet, and nods dumbfounded.
"Uh, yes, Paul Smith. Marble print," he mumbles.
"Fudge!" the other man hisses. "Florence got all her ice cream on your pants. Your very stylish and expensive pants."
"Not all of it," Kurt swallows. "There's still some left on her face." Beside him, he can hear Rachel snickering.
Mr. Fudge gets up from his knees, with Florence back on his hip.
"I'm so, so sorry!" he repeats, looking entirely sincere.
"Moist towelette?" Rachel offers, and he accepts it gratefully, trying to wipe the worst off of the girl's face.
"I forgot how fast this little rascal can be. How can I make it up for you and your pants?" he wonders genuinely.
Kurt got some towelettes from Rachel too, and is trying to get the worst off. It'll stain, for sure, and of course it's chocolate. But at least he doesn't have to walk around with ice cream running down his leg.
"Don't worry," Kurt waves it off politely. "The hazard of attending the local fair is my own risk," he tries to joke.
"New York can be a dangerous city," the other man chuckles. "Still, I try to avoid the biggest ice cream-crimes. What happened to your pants is a true tragedy."
"I didn't know this city had a superhero protecting high fashion," Kurt jokes.
"Too bad he wasn't here, though, or we would have avoided that," he gestures at Kurt's leg.
"Secret identity, I get it, say no more," Kurt boldly teases in a stage whisper, one hand covering part of his mouth. And then he wants to kick himself, because what is he doing, flirting with someone who has a kid, and most definitely a sexy partner of one gender or the other waiting at home. Fortunately, Blaine gives him a hearty laugh.
"We saw you dancing earlier," Rachel butts in, when she picks up on her roomie's lack of conversations skills – excluding her and everything. "Your daughter is adorable."
"Thank you!" the man preens. "I'll agree she's adorable, but she's my niece. Her dad had some appointments in the city, and I volunteered to catch up on some quality-uncle-Blaine-time."
And then Kurt's heart does that stop-skip-flip-thing again. Uncle Blaine. Uncle, as in not daddy.
"So it's uncle Blaine then? I'm Rachel, and this is my friend Kurt," she introduces them. Blaine politely shakes both their hands.
"Let me take your used towelettes to a trash can I saw earlier, and you can wrap up your pants-discussion," she says, and winks at Kurt. Hopefully, Blaine didn't see it. Yenta.
"Umm, I could ask my brother to buy you new pants? It's his daughter who made this mess."
"No, no, don't be ridiculous, I'm sure some dry-cleaning will make them as good as new again."
"Let me at least cover the bill. I feel awful about this."
The polite part of Kurt wants to object. The poor student-part of him wants to agree. And the romantic part of him wants to see Blaine again.
"It would involve you giving me your number so that I can call you, then…" he says shyly, although he knows he'll never accept any kind of payment or refund for this honest accident.
"Huh, yeah, I think you're right," Blaine grins, with the most lovely blush colouring his cheekbones.
For their one year-anniversary, Blaine finally gets to buy Kurt a pair of pants. Kurt accept them, if Blaine promises to take them off of him later that night.
Pants from episode 6:13.