A/N: Hello, peeps. Believe it or not, I got this inspiration when my husband and were out the other night, just eating at the RAM. Boom. Inspiration. It truly is amazing when and where it can hit. I hope you enjoy it. I plan on this only being 2-3 chapters long, more like a ficlet. As we know in Glee, Kurt got bullied by Karofsky, hence spying on the Warblers...the rest is history. ;) Well, in this verse, Kurt and Blaine never met, they both are in New York at the moment. Blaine is 26; Kurt is 21, currently attending NYU as a second year student. Blaine works for his father in law firm, most definitely not what he wants to do; he's only doing it to please his father. Takes place in Spotlight Diner, Kurt is waiting Mr. Anderson's table...

Warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as usual.

I don't own Klaine, I wish.

No beta, all mistakes my own.

Warnings: Homophobic slurs, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of Kurt's past bullying at McKinley

Kurt meticulously scrubbed at one of the tables, growling in frustration, when he looked up to check the time. It was a Saturday night, the Spotlight Diner was packed, and Kurt still had two hours to go until his shift ended. Needless to say, he just wanted to go home.

The door pinged!, signaling yet, more customers flowing in to sit down for a delicious meal. He sighed, momentarily content with the state of cleanliness of the table, and headed straight for the back. He searched for Santana, and he spotted her right away, a large red serving tray josling at her hip.

"Porcelain, you got the next table." She spoke up as she hurried past Kurt to make a Coke.

"Fuck." Kurt said, grimacing.

"Language, Hummel." Santana reprimanded.

"Yeah, like you haven't said or done dirtier things with your own mouth,...I don't wanna hear it." Kurt replied.

"I sure have." She stated blunt. "You wouldn't believe some of those sexy noises Brit makes when I put my tong-" San started, but Kurt cut her off right away.

"Aaaaaand, I'm out! La-la-la-laaaaa!" He said, sticking his fingers in his ears, walking away to the new table.

His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he neared the table of 5 or 6 businessmen, all of them complete with suits and ties, and all chatting away in low hushed voices.

Great, rich sobby men...This should be fun. Kurt thought miserably. "Hello, welcome to the Spotlight Diner. My name is Kurt and I'll be taking care of you guys tonight."

"Really?" A very rude man spoke up in a displeased voice. He eyed Kurt up and down like he was disgusting, and Kurt swallowed, knowing that look.

"I-Is there a problem, sir?" Kurt asked nervously, dreading the answer, and he tapped his pen on his pad of paper.

"Yes, obviously there's a problem. I don't want some fag taking my ord-"

"Dad! Stop that!" Another voice hissed from across the homophobic asshole.

Kurt's heart sped up, and soon enough, he saw red. He was now even more irrate. What the hell?! Kurt clenched his mouth shut, just to refrain his own choice of hurtful words, and his eyes found a pair of beautiful hazel colored ones staring back. The gorgeous Adonis licked his lips, and his eyes settled back onto the menu, obviously hiding a timid smile.

Kurt took a moment to really look at the handsome man's appearance. This man's dark hair was gelled down to perfection, almost like glued to his head, although Kurt did wonder what it would look like without all that intimadating hair product, and the waiter's eyes darted down every so often to hot-businessman's pink plump lips, wetting them as his eyes tried to focus on the menu beofre him.

"Hello? Excuse me?" Rude older man said out of boredom.

Kurt snapped out of his trance and he forced a smile. "Yes, sir?" He got his pen and paper ready.

"I said I want a glass of sweet tea, no lemon."

Aaaand I'd like to punch you in the face...but I can't, so...Kurt thought, as he wrote down the order. He soon got the other man's orders, and when he came around the table to handsome hunk, he asked, "and for you, sir?"

Hot businessman smiled, "Apple juice, please."

So polite...what are you? Like 5? So adorable...Kurt scribbled hunky man's drink. "Ok, I'll be back with your drinks. Let me know if you would like any of our appitizers. It's happy hour, which means most of them are half off."

As Kurt turned and walked off, he heard Mr. Rude muttering, "I can't believe they gave my table to a queer waiter..."

Kurt held in tears.

xxxK&Bxxx

Kurt is gay, out and proud, since he came out to his father at the age of 16. His father had known since Kurt was three; he asked for a sensible pair of heels for his birthday. So, Kurt is out and proud, but the comments from Mr. Asshole earlier did not help. (Kurt did alot of thinking later on, and came to the conclusion, that, obviously, Mr. Ass was hunky man's father. Hopefully, not his boss.) In fact, the comments still hurt, even if Kurt didn't show it or voice it. Going to NYU as a second year student has its perks. For a while, Kurt can forget about the bigots, and solely concentrate on his studies. Still young at the age of 21, Kurt never really has been in a "commited relationship". Kurt dated Chandler, back in Ohio, in high school, but Kurt felt Chandler was too clingy. Sure, they had alot in common, but Kurt didn't feel any sort of chemistry. They only dated for about two weeks, until Chandler moved away. When Kurt moved to New York, after he graduated, he met Adam. Sure, Adam was sweet and had a good heart, but, once again, he didn't feel any passion. No spark. Nothing. Adam was kind, and he understood, so when Kurt let him go, the Brit didn't hold anything against Kurt. To this day, they are still good friends.

Then, Kurt met Elliot when Santana and Rachel convinced Kurt one night, with alcohol coursing through their veins, they should start a band and call it "Pamela Landsbury". They were all drinking at a friend's house party, and that's where Kurt met Elliot Starchild. It was fun, or so Kurt thought, but he also knew, it would be a one time fling, so to speak.

They never did get that band together.

Now, in the present, as he stared dreamily from afar at the hot man, while making their desired drinks, he found himself subconciously licking his lips. Is he even gay? What are my chances? Fuck, he's looking over here...act normal! Kurt snapped his eyes back at the drinks, his neck and ears a crimson shade. Caught, damn.

"He's cute. You best tap that, or I will, Hummel." Santana said from behind the taller baffled man.

"San! He's not-! Ugh, how do you even know he plays for my team?" Kurt sputtered. Still staring at the hunk, he felt the fountain drinks start to overflow, and cursed. "Damn it!" So worth spilling fizzling soda all over the counter...

"My mexican third eye never fails me. You know this." She assured with her signature eye roll.

"Right, right, Whatever..." Kurt mumbled as he grabbed his tray, sauntering off to the table. "Ok, so we have two iced teas, both sweet, one with no lemon, an apple juice," Kurt paused, his gaze drifting to the sexy man, blushing...Is he blushing?! Wishful thinking, Hummel. "...a coke, and a glass of ice water no lemon."

"Great." Rude man grumbled under his breath.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Dad, please stop. Shit." The hottie hissed once again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, before his amber eyes found Kurt's.

Kurt's heart sank. So, he IS his dad...Damn it...

"Don't pay him any attention..." He said again, waving off his father's intense glare, and his eyes found Kurt's nametag. "...Kurt."

"Blaine Devon Anderson, you will not start this..." Mr. Anderson threatened under his breath.

Hmm, Blaine. Nice. "Are you guys going to sit there and bicker or...are you going to actually order?" Kurt asked slowly.

Blaine snorted, and in return, Mr. Anderson gave Kurt a death glare.

"Excuse me quee-"

"We'll order, thank you, Kurt." Blaine interrupted, flashing his perfect pearly whites. "I'll have the grilled tilapia with roasted veggies...and what do you suggest as a fantastic dessert?" Blaine whispered, his eyes flickering to Kurt's now dry lips.

"Uhm...l-let me get b-back to you on that...Blaine is it?" Kurt confirmed, his palms sweating profusely.

Blaine nodded. "It is."

Mr. Anderson sat across from their conversation, scowling. "Blaine, we will discuss this later...Meanwhile,..." A pause from Mr. Ass as he scanned the menu, "I want the smoke-house steak, medium rare, none of that burnt charred shit..."

Kurt sighed, writing down his order. He felt Blaine's gaze on him as he continued to scribble Mr. A's demanding wants. He poked his tongue out, concentrating on getting the damn order correct, as to not screw it up, (he wants to keep his job, mind you) when he heard Blaine clearing his throat from beside him. He looked at Blaine, and the hunky man turned beet red, despite his olive-skinned complexion, and immediately narrowed his eyes at his juice.

"...loaded mashed potatoes, not mashed. Grilled asparagus..." He went on. Kurt saw Blaine make a face at the mention of grilled asparagus.

Kurt giggled.

"Is there something funny?" Mr. A stopped with an icy glare.

"Nope. Proceed." Kurt waved him off.

"Sour cream on the side. You got all that?" He finished, a sour look turned towards the pale waiter.

Kurt only nodded. He walked around to the rest of the co-workers, talking lowly about the next upcoming tedious project.

Kurt couldn't concentrate; his eyes kept drifting over to Blaine. He widened his eyes as he found Blaine intently biting his lower lip.

Kurt swallowed, and Blaine ducked his head with a prominent blush, absentmindingly twirling his straw in his apple juice.

A couple of corrections and dirty glares from Mr. Ass (not to mention, his co-workers) later, Kurt strolled off, preparing to give the list to the kitchen cooks.

"Kuuuurt! He's perfect for you!" Rachel cooed, straightening her ponytail.

"Rach! Sssh!" He hissed, and with a panicked look, glanced over to the table, only to see Blaine's dad barking at him. Kurt felt bad for the man. "Rachel," Kurt sighed tiredly, and the shorter brunette perked up at her name, "We don't even know if he's gay." Kurt tried to explain exasberately, his hands flailing wildly about.

"Porcelain, I swear, if you say that one more time...do you not trust me?" San said sarcastically, inspecting her nails with complete boredom.

Is that a trick question or...? "Of course I do, San," Kurt started.

"What?! Seriously, Kurt?!" Rachel preened.

"Thank you." Santana said with confidence.

"But..."Kurt started again, hesitant.

"Uh huh, I knew it..." Rachel butt in.

"But?!" Santana pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"...nothing. I gotta use the bathroom." Kurt said instead, and excused himself, heading for the bathroom.

As Kurt did his business, a familiar voice came into the bathroom. "Of course, sweetie! Ok! I miss you, too."

Blaine! Kurt's eyes widened, and he continued to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"I suppose, mmhmm, yeah. Why not...we could do that..." Blaine mumbled, the sound of the sink facet running water.

Sweetie? Damn it, I thought I had a chance...He's taken...Kurt pouted, and zipped up his skinnies. He took a deep breath, listening in. Lucky guy...or girl...he's probably planning their date...

"Friday? 7? Ok, I can put it in my phone, sweetheart. Ok, see you then. Love you." Click.

The water turned off, and he heard Blaine sigh. Moments later, (and Kurt was totally not peeking through the stall, nope) Blaine left the bathroom, leaving Kurt distraught.

Washing his hands at the sink, he read the clock on the wall. 6:53. Kurt's shift is supposed to end in 7 minutes, but now Kurt didn't want to leave, and it was totally not for a certain dapper businessman. He sighed, drying his hands, and returned to the waiting area.

Kurt noticed right away, Santana apoligetically shaking her head no, and Mr. Asswipe looking like he's biting her head off. She pressed her lips into a thin line as Mr. Anderson continued to bitch about something obviously being wrong with his order. Kurt took a deep breath, straighted his shirt, and headed over. "What's the problem, sir?"

"I told you homo, I did not want this charred crap! Medium rare. And these mashed potatoes are cold. I want a refund. The only thing half way decent in this god forsaken restaraunt is the sweet tea." Mr. Anderson scowled.

Blaine dropped his head tiredly into his hands, avoiding the speculation from other customers, happily enjoying their meals. Blaine mumbled something, and his father's head snapped to his son. "What was that?" He asked irritably.

"Nothing, dad. Let's just go..." Blaine muttered, running a hand down his face.

Don't go! Damn it...Kurt mentally pleaded.

"Sir, I'm sorry about your food, we will most definitely get you a refund asap. Can I get you anything else?" Kurt forced out.

"No. I think we're done here." He answered, giving Kurt another nasty look. "Gentlemen. Blaine. Let's go." They obliged, grabbing their breifcases, ready to leave.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment, before smiling apoligetically, and shrugging his shoulders.

Kurt walked off, heartbroken. He couldn't win with Mr. Ass. Now, he'll never see Blaine again. The door pinged, and Kurt knew that Blaine, was indeed, gone. A single tear fell down his face, and he hurried to wipe it off.

"Porcelain, could you clean up that table, so we could get it ready for another customer. And don't worry about old dude. He's probably pissed off that he doesn't get laid enough anymore..." San retorted, her voice clearly irrate.

Kurt just nodded, grabbed a rag, and headed over to Blaine's now vacant table. He saw the reciept and a $5 tip. Kurt's brows furrowed in confusion. He picked up the reciept, and his heart raced a mile a minute when he saw a phone number discreetly scribbled on the slip of paper. On the bottom, a note was written.

Kurt, I am so sorry about my father being a jackass. Let me make it up to you. Please go on a date with me? 555-0783 Blaine Anderson

Kurt choked out a sob, and stuffed the reciept into his skinny jeans pocket. As Kurt pulled his phone out to type in the hottie's number, his face lit up with a smile, finally hopeful for once.

Reviews? ;)

-Marianne xoxo