Shamlessly written in the dead of night. The idea has been hounding me for ages, and I kept rewriting the different scenes, torn between making it lots of versions or a one shot. The different tenses really annoyed me as well, as it was too long to make the whole thing maybe this and perhaps that.

Anyway, enjoy. I hope it isn't too confusing.

I don't own anything obviously.

Sometimes, when Kurt lies awake at night in his sleek modern flat in New York, he thinks about how differently his late teens and early twenties could have gone. Blaine loves to debate with him about parallel worlds, and he always says that a new world is created every time you make a decision. So many little things depended on seemingly insignificant events. So sometimes, Kurt can't help but wonder, what if?

Kurt forgot to bring in the sample boards to show the guys in Glee club his ideas for the mash up battle. He complained all through the meeting from the back of the room that they never listened to his ideas, but he didn't annoy them from up front with various fabrics and sketches. Puck never told him to go spy on Dalton. And the thought didn't cross Kurt's mind either.

When the locker room incident happened, he folded into himself and shut the world out even more. He would sit in his car right up until the bell, and then sneak through the empty halls, getting to every class late. Kurt didn't call his bully out, so it happened again.

It was before the wedding. Kurt had to wait around for Finn to finish football so they could go and get their tuxes fitted, and against his better judgement he waited just outside of the locker room. Karofsky tried to corner him again, muttering horrible, filthy words and used his sheer size to back Kurt further away from the slow trickle of boys entering the room. Finn had impeccable timing, and witnessed the larger boy threatening his brother's life before he intervened.

The next day, Karofsky was expelled. For good. No one could deny it now Kurt had a witness. And even though Finn was suspended for fighting, they became close. Finn never hesitated to wave to him in the halls now, or showing his 'brotherly love' at various impromptu moments.

Kurt got a solo at sectionals, and the promise of cheering crowds was definitely worth Rachel's diva attitude all week.

He spent the preparation time away from the group, trying to calm himself and get away from everyone's dramas. He walked through various parts of the theatre, nursing a glass of water. On his third entrance into the bar, he was so preoccupied running through the second verse of his song that he slammed straight into a shorter boy. His water slipped and the cup went crashing to his feet, splattering himself and the uniform clad boy.

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, it's only water. It's not like it was boiling coffee or anything."

"Still, I'm sorry."

His blue eyes meet deep brown, and his mind continued to swirl swear words mixed with lyrics. The smaller boy was watching him with amusement.

"It'll dry." He took off his blazer and shook it a little. "I guess I shouldn't have been in your way. I've seen you rushing around for a good half an hour now."

"I-well..." Kurt could feel himself flush.

"Can I get you another drink? More water maybe?"

Attractive boy on the opposing team wanted to talk to him. It wasn't as if this boy's team could use any gained information about them hours before they went onstage, but the Rachel Berry within made him shake his head.

"I need to go practice. Again, I'm sorry." Why was he apologising so much? He never so much as blinked when he bashed into Finn earlier. Still, the Dalton boy had a lot of friends behind him, some were seriously tall.

"Okay, I guess I shouldn't really wish the competition luck, but break a leg." He dazzled Kurt with a smile.

Kurt squashed the inner Rachel. Sure, maybe this boy had the hair of Jessie, but that scumbag would never think to wish the opposition good luck. No, he was definitely no Jessie.

"Thank you, you too. You'll need it." Did Kurt just wink? He did, he just winked. At a boy. What had possessed him? You get one friendly comment and it all goes to your head, Hummel.

He was still beating himself up when the Warbler's took to the stage. Of course, the boy Kurt had soaked was the lead singer, causing further embarrassment. Dalton Boy had some pretty strange stage faces, but he could move, and he could sing. Kurt was completely blown away. He'd never thought he had a thing for 'guys in uniforms' either, but damn.

He's probably not even gay. You were way off with Sam. Kurt glanced over to the perfect blonde couple on his left and resisted the urge to snort.

But although Dalton was good, New Directions was better. They won, and with Kurt's flawless solo how could they not?

After running back to get their things from their dressing room, New Directions all burst out of the door ready to celebrate on the coach home.

Kurt was right behind Finn when he saw Dalton Boy with his friends leaning against their bus. They didn't seem too miserable about losing, instead they were all laughing, Dalton Boy at the centre of course. Kurt's opponent was obviously more than just their vocal leader. Their eyes met and Dalton Boy gave him a small wave. His heart totally didn't jump.

"Dude, who is that waving at you?" Finn hissed as they crossed the car park.

"One of the Dalton Warblers I presume by the uniform, Finn." Kurt deadpanned.

"But why is he waving at you? Is he coming over here?" Wait, what? Sure enough, Dalton Boy was making his way between his friends who were all watching him until he turned around, directed something towards them, and a sea of blazers hurriedly made their way onto the bus.

This was not time to panic. Step one, get rid of the gawking step-brother.

"Finn, I think Rachel said something about having celebration cookies on the bus."

"Hey." Dalton Boy greeted him as Kurt passed. Step two, act normal. "You were amazing! All of you were, but your solo, wow."

"Thank you." Kurt tipped his head, trying to keep a smirk off his face and failing.

"I'm not usually this... um... lost for words but it really..." He paused, licking his lips and looking at Kurt in a way that made the nerves and flip flopping of Kurt's stomach which had left him the moment he had stepped on stage, return with a vengeance. Be still my aching heart? More like be calm my digestive system.

Dalton boy stuck out a hand, "Blaine. My name's Blaine."

"Kurt." He shook the boy's hand, and Blaine held on a lot longer than socially acceptable.

"Tell me the truth Kurt," Was it weird that he liked the way Blaine rolled his name around in his mouth, almost lazily? Yes. Very weird. "Are there a bunch of idiots pressed up on the glass on my bus?" Blaine motioned with his thumb, and Kurt snuck a look over his shoulder and saw that yes, there were at least ten faces attempting to become one with the bus windows.

"Don't they realise how unhygienic that is?" Kurt shook his head and looked back to the boy who was handing his head in... embarrassment? Shame?

"Just one of the many joys of an all boys school. They have no concept of germs."

Unsure how to reply, Kurt just pressed his lips together and nodded. No doubt his friends would be doing the same in a matter of minutes.

"So, I better get going. Sorry again about earlier."

"Yeah about that." A sly smile crept onto Blaine's face. "You know it turns out these blazers get ever so slightly damaged by water."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. Where the hell was this going?

"Ah, but you said yourself you were in my way."

"And you didn't let me get you another drink. So," Blaine cast a quick look around, and Kurt saw his confidence slip. Was he nervous? "I propose you let me buy you a coffee sometime to make up for it."

Wait, what.

Around half an hour later, Kurt was sat on the bus, still staring at the new number in his phone contacts under Blaine.

One bad dumpster toss broke Kurt's leg the week before sectionals. Although it got Karofsky expelled, it meant he couldn't go to sectionals. New Directions drew.

Then it was all Finn's fault that Kurt missed regionals. If he hadn't have gone and cheated with Quinn, she wouldn't have turned up to Rachel's party still feeling under the weather. It turns out mono can survive in your system and still be infectious a good few weeks after you've recovered.

And of course, it was partly Rachel's fault for suggesting they play spin the bottle, because when Quinn landed on Kurt, they all dared Quinn to really go for it.

And that's how he was stuck with a fever and missed the second round of competition.

It was a long year, but in summer he decided to take up a job in a local coffee shop as well as helping part time in his dad's garage. He needed all the money he could save if he wanted to go to college in New York.

He quickly learnt the names of the regulars. There was Jim, the old army vet who always asked for a drop of whiskey and always had to be told that they were a coffee shop, not a bar. There was a woman called Marge who rushed in with a pram in the mornings, then sat down for three hours just staring out of the window. Every time Kurt was the last to lock up, he was warned about Mike, the business man who would storm in, grab a mocha, then storm out in three minutes flat. Kurt's boss said it was best to just leave it on the side for him to collect.

Then there were the Dalton boys. Kurt had befriended Chloe worked on a Saturday, and she could point them out to him even though she was used to seeing them in uniform. There was one curly haired boy who always caught Kurt's eye, and with whom Chloe always flirted outrageously.

After the most recent embarrassing incident, where she batted her lashes so much Kurt thought she might have been having a seizer, he questioned her about it.

"Oh honey," She laughed, "of course he's gay! I write my number on his cup every week and look!" She pointed to the boy who was sat at a table, staring at the paper cup. He then glanced over at the counter between Kurt and Chloe. The girl wiggled her fingers and the boy blushed right to his curled roots.

"Every week, and not one call. And every time? He looks at you first." She dug a finger into Kurt's side, making him yelp and swat at her with a dishcloth.

The following week Kurt worked Monday evening alone. The curly haired boy came in around six, and before he opened his mouth Kurt had a cup at the ready.

"Non-fat Mocha?" At the boy's surprised look he shrugged, "I know all the regular's orders. I'm sorry, it's really busy. Can I take a name and call you when it's ready?"

The curly haired boy just nodded and said in a much lower voice than Kurt had expected, "Blaine."

Kurt worked through his shift with ease, the business man breezed through and Kurt started clearing the tables. Only the curly haired boy was left, having stayed sat at a table for a good few hours with a book.

As Kurt cleared the table nearest to him he made a lot of noise, trying to snap the boy out of his bubble.

"Oh, I'm sorry are you locking up? I completely lost track of time." That quiet voice was just so calming.

Kurt just smiled. "Yes, sorry."

"If it's not too much trouble, could I have one for the road?"

"Sure." He went back to the counter, making up Blaine's order.

As the boy fumbled with money, Kurt got an idea. On the side of the paper cup he scrawled a bunch of numbers with the message, "I didn't want to break tradition. Kurt"

He got a phone call that night.

Kurt never joined the glee club. He did join the cheerios however, and he stayed on them all the way through high school. Dumpster dives became a thing of the past, and walking around the halls surrounded by girls in the most converted uniform made him envied.

But the uniform restricted his flair for fashion, and so instead of going off to join chase the Broadway dream, or go and intern for vogue, he decided to go to college in New York, getting in on a gymnastic scholarship.

On his first night in dorms he stayed in to unpack. The halls were mostly empty, a lot of people choosing to spent their first night out in the city, but Kurt wanted to get everything sorted out alone rather than with a roommate getting in his way.

At eight, there was a knock on his door, and he pulled it open to reveal a boy with plastered curls in a maroon shirt that brought out his eyes amazingly.

"Hi. I'm in the dorm next door and I've been unpacking all afternoon but I'm absolutely starving now and I heard your music and I figured we could go get some dinner?" He spoke really fast for someone dressed so proper, and Kurt told him so.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really hungry and kind of nervous. I may or may not have been singing along to your music for the past hour."

Kurt laughed, "Well, at least you have good taste. What food were you thinking?"

"Thai? I'm Blaine Anderson by the way."

"Excellent choice Mr Anderson. I'm Kurt Hummel."

In every scene Kurt envisioned, he can't imagine one where he doesn't find Blaine somewhere along the way. Sometimes they meet as friends, sometimes as a drunken one night stand. Sometimes Blaine's presence is fleeting, and sometimes they have known each other since they were young.

"Kurt." A voice sighs into his ear and breath warms his shoulder. "What are you thinking about."

He opens his eyes and sees the same deep chocolate as he did by the buses, over a coffee cup, behind his dorm room's door. Those eyes were under florescent lighting, slightly blurred by drink. They were in a small art studio, across a bar whilst playing the piano, or approaching him after one of Kurt's shows.

The brown eyes were the exact same ones that looked at him with fear when he said he was returning back to McKinley, with a smouldering fire every time they kissed, and with pride when they had graduated. The eyes were the first thing Kurt looked into when he turned around in a flat for sale, certain that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Now he gets to see the eyes over coffee and pancakes and cereal every morning. He sees them bleary from lack of sleep, sees them when he opens their front door and resists calling out 'honey, I'm home'. And when he sings on stage, he swears he can find those brown eyes in the front row each time.

Kurt can feel the comforting weight of the band on his left hand's ring finger and smiled down at Blaine who was still looking at him curiously.

"Us."

I kinda really want to write the piano eyes-meeting-across-a-bar one.

But that might be to much cheese. I just love cheesy Klaine okay?

Review?