The Pursuit of Adventure

by fairytale ideals

(Abandoned- I would not recommend starting reading this.) "So what you're saying is that you want to stay in small town Ohio for the rest of your life?" "No, but—" "Come on, Kurt. I'll even give you hints."

1. The Candy Shop

This is a bit of a self-indulgent fic. I've always been in love with this concept for a long time, and now I'm actually writing it.

Also, if anyone sees this who reads Until the Stars Fall from the Sky, I am planning on finishing that before continuing with this. Don't worry, I'm not leaving that hanging. :)

---

"Come on, Kurt, it'll be fun."

Kurt sighed, internally conceding that it probably would be fun. "I don't feel like going partying right now."

Finn sighed. "That's exactly why you need to go party."

"Finn, what I really need to do right now is to look for a job."

"That can wait until tomorrow at least. I'm not going to let you sit here and mope."

"Just go to your party."

"Not without you."

Kurt sighed, standing up from his seat on the couch. "I'm going to go get dressed."

"Yes!" Finn exclaimed, grinning. "I swear, dude, you won't regret it."

Kurt Hummel's life was not where he had expected it to be. In high school, he had promised himself that he'd go to college in New York, where he'd make it big on Broadway and, of course, a handsome boy would sweep him off his feet and they'd run off into the sunset together.

Things had not panned out according to plan. He hadn't gotten into the college he wanted to and instead stayed in Ohio and went to a small liberal arts school there. At age twenty-four, he was stuck in Lima, Ohio, living paycheck to paycheck while his best friend chased her dreams—their dreams—in New York City without him.

To top it all off, he had just gotten fired from his job at the local bookstore because of his 'negative attitude'. But really, there were only so many times he could be forced to point a giggling preteen girl towards the latest trashy supernatural love story before he completely lost it. So in some way, getting fired was a blessing hidden in a curse.

As he got dressed—making sure to look good but not like he was trying too hard—he could hear Finn lumbering around in the living room. It should have been weird, living, as an adult, with his stepbrother who he had formerly had a crush on, but there was something undeniably comfortable about it. And besides, it was definitely easier than trying to find someone around here who was alright with his sexuality.

When he returned to the living room, Finn pulled Kurt's phone off the charger and handed it to him. "I'm driving," Finn said, "So you can drink. A lot. Just, you know, keep your phone with you. And let me know if, uh, you meet anyone and, uh…"

Kurt sighed. "Finn, what are the chances of me meeting anyone tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Finn shrugged. "I just wanted to remind you. I mean, remember last time?"

Kurt smirked. The last time Finn had dragged Kurt out to a party, halfway through Finn had dropped his phone in a toilet and spent the next few hours (by Finn's estimation, so it really could have been minutes) drunkenly wandering through the crowd and calling out Kurt's name. When he finally found Kurt, he collapsed into his arms, crying because he was "sure I'd lost you forever, man, forever."

"As I recall," Kurt said, pocketing the phone, "that one was all you."

"Still gotta make sure," Finn said, grabbing his keys from a hook on the wall—he had lost them countless times until Kurt had put up the hook and made him use it—and opening the door, gesturing for Kurt to go ahead of him.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asked.

Finn sighed. "You're not going to like it," he answered.

"Oh god, you're taking me to that sleazy club, aren't you?"

"It's not that sleazy."

"Finn, have you looked around? It is the dirtiest place I've ever willingly gone."

"That's why it's dark."

Kurt grimaced. "Great."

"You're still going, though, right?" Finn asked nervously.

After a perhaps a bit too dramatic sigh, Kurt nodded. "You're right about one thing, Finn. I do need a drink."

The Candy Shop was a bit of a dodgy place, really. Kurt had known this since his first trip there at age nineteen, going in with some friends and panicking because he was under twenty one and the bouncer would just know and he'd get arrested or something and he'd have to call his dad and tell him what happened, but instead he got to the door and he had to practically force the man at the door to look at his fake ID even though he was so very definitely not legal.

But, really, it probably should have been expected that this place turned the other cheek when it came to underage patrons—it was called The Candy Shop. In theory it was a cutesy name, or an ode to a 50 Cent song that was decidedly not about candy, though that was copyrighted so if anyone asked it was the former.

Once you were inside, of course, it was exactly what you'd expect of a dingy old club to be. It was dark save for a few tacky colorful, flashing lights and neon lights hung on the walls. There was also that incessant strobe light in some corners, but Kurt forced himself to not pay attention to it or it would give him a headache. And there was no way Finn would believe him if he cited a headache when he asked if they could leave.

Almost as soon as they arrived, Finn disappeared into the mass of bodies to do whatever it was when he didn't drink. Despite the somewhat questionable crowd the Candy Shop drew, Kurt realized, Finn probably had friends there. He repressed the urge to shudder.

He walked up to the bar, knowing that if he wanted to get his mind off of how creepy and unhygienic the Candy Shop was and actually have any fun, he would need to get drunk. He stood in front of the bar, trying to avoid anyone else's body and get the bartender's attention to get his beer.

Once he had a beer in each hand, he retreated to a corner of the room, taking in the sight of the drunken (and most likely under the influence of at least one drug in most cases) bodies grinding against each other.

He was on his way to getting a pleasant buzz when he heard a voice from next to him ask, "You a writer?"

Kurt looked over to see a man with dark gelled-down hair looking at him curiously, a green drink in his hand. For a second, Kurt got distracted by how his eyes, wide in questioning, managed to catch what little light there was in the club. "What?" he asked.

"You seem out of place. I mean, you're definitely not the average Candy Shop goer." Furrowing his brow, he added, "And you're watching people, observing them, maybe. And you seem, I don't know, pensive or sad. I was hoping for pensive, you know. Like you're thinking about the meaning of life."

Kurt furrowed his brow.

"Okay, so you're sad," the man said, leaning against the wall next to him. "You're waiting for someone, right?" He gestured to the beers in Kurt's hands.

"No," Kurt said. "These are both mine. And I'm not sad."

"I see," the other man said. He finished off his drink, standing in silence and watching at Kurt slowly did the same.

"Come on," the man said, grabbing onto his hand. "I'm going to buy you a drink."

"Why?"

"You're interesting," he said, "and I need another drink, too." He lifted up his empty glass as evidence.

"I've seen this movie," Kurt said, "and I know this is a bad idea. I don't even know your name."

"Blaine."

"What?" he asked.

"Blaine," he repeated, looking oddly pleased with himself. "Blaine Anderson. And I would like to buy you a drink," he added, sounding like a campaign commercial.

"I still really don't have any reason to trust you."

"Do I really look that much like a rapist?" Blaine asked.

"Can never be too safe," Kurt said.

Blaine chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "You're careful. I can appreciate that…" he paused, frowning. "Do I get a name?"

"No," he replied, taking a small step away from him.

"Please? Just this one thing?"

"And you'll go away?"

"Definitely," Blaine said, grinning.

"Kurt," he said.

"Kurt!" he repeated. "I like it."

"Okay, you can leave now," he said. "You know my name, and you said you'd leave."

"I lied," Blaine said. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he added, "Being of no power to make his wishes good, his promises fly so beyond his state that what he speaks is all in debt; he owes for every word."

"What?"

"Shakespeare!" Blaine said brightly.

Kurt blinked. He wondered what a younger Kurt might think of this situation, being approached at a bar by a man quoting Shakespeare. He wasn't entirely sure that it made sense in this situation (he wouldn't past the guy to quote something completely irrelevant), but it was Shakespeare. Not that he was impressed.

After a few more minutes of back and forth (the details of which Kurt would later be extremely fuzzy on), Kurt realized that he was not going to give up and letting him buy him a beer probably wouldn't hurt as long as he was careful.

Blaine caught the bartender's attention, asking for another beer and an Appletini.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kurt said.

"What?" he asked, furrowing his brows and good lord, those were thick.

"An Appletini? You drink Appletinis."

Blaine laughed. Flippantly, he waved his hand and answered, "Of course not. I'm just getting it for my girlfriend, because that's the man thing to do!"

"You have a girlfriend?" Kurt asked, feeling slightly disappointed even though he knew he shouldn't be.

Blaine laughed. "No! I'm gay," he said. Frowning as he glanced back at the bartender, he added, "I'm going to assume that in your drunken state you—"

"I am not drunk," Kurt said.

"You've had at least two beers."

"I'm not a lightweight."

Blaine held his hands out, miming running his hands down Kurt's sides. "You sure?"

"Definitely," Kurt said, reaching out and taking his beer. "I am a ways off from being drunk."

Eventually, though, he did hit that point.

"Blaine, Blaine," he said, a number he wasn't quite sure of drinks later, "I am drunk." He stumbled, leaning his body against Blaine's, no longer sober enough to remember his usual rules about personal space.

"Yes," Blaine agreed, nodding, "yes you are."

"Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren't you drunk?" he asked, frowning at Blaine as he leaned further against him.

"Someone needs to look after you," he said.

"Finn!" Kurt said quickly, looking up at Blaine as if the name was supposed to mean something to him.

"Pardon?" Blaine asked.

"He… my Finn," Kurt said.

"Is Finn your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Is Finn my… no! No!" Kurt replied, straightening himself up and letting out a loud laugh. "No way. But, like, Finn. He takes care of me. He's such a good brother. I should tell him what a good brother he is." He pulled out his phone, which Blaine promptly took out of his hands. Kurt frowned. "Do you have any brothers?"

"Yeah, but we don't really talk much," Blaine answered, smiling at Kurt now that he understood who Finn was.

"Thassucks," Kurt slurred. He drooping for a second before grabbing Blaine's shoulders and adding excitedly, "But you know, Blaine, I didn't have a brother at first. And Finn didn't really like me that much, but now we are closer than… than… I don't know. I love him."

"Well, that's good," he said.

"I planned their wedding," Kurt said. "In a week."

Blaine furrowed his brows, trying to follow Kurt's train of thought. "So Finn is your stepbrother?"

Kurt nodded. "He's nice to me."

Blaine hesitated, remembering the decidedly sad look on Kurt's face when he first saw him. "Are people not nice to you?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged. "You're nice to me," he said after a moment. "Unless you're actually a rapist. But you seem nice. Are there nice rapists? Oh my god, you're a nice rapist." He stepped back away from Blaine.

"I am not a nice rapist."

"You're a mean rapist?" Kurt gasped.

"No, no, oh god, no," Blaine said. "I am a nice person. Not a rapist at all."

Kurt nodded appreciatively, seeming to find this answer acceptable. He watched Blaine for a moment, watching as Blaine did something with a phone. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that it was his phone, though it did not register as an important fact at the moment.

As Kurt watched Blaine, his arm fell slack and he spilled his drink on the floor. Looking down at it, he smiled. "It's like a waterfall." He leaned against Blaine for a second, then said, "Waterfalls are great. This one time my mom and dad took me to T-tennuh… Tennesstate! And they took me to a waterfall. I could have stayed for hours!"

"That sounds lovely, Kurt," Blaine said, grinning at him.

He looked at Blaine, his face somber. "It was our last vacation as a family. I keep meaning to go back, but I am a fucking responsible adult." He gazed off into the distance for a moment, swaying absentmindedly, then looked up sharply, grinning. "Blaine!"

"Yes?"

"Drink. You need another drink." He looked confused for a second, and then declared, "Shots."

"One shot."

"One shot!" Kurt declared, pushing through the crowd towards the bar. "Blaine needs one shot!"

One shot turned into two shots when Kurt asked for two shots, saying he would do the other, but ended up handing both to Blaine. And Blaine wasn't about to say no.

So while he was certainly not as drunk as Kurt, he wasn't extremely sober, either.

"Yo! I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want."

"Oh my god, I love this song!" Kurt announced brightly.

"This is… what year are we in?"

Kurt looked panicked. "Oh god, I don't know. I really don't know."

"This is from the nineties, and I don't think it ever really belonged in a club," Blaine commented.

"Shut up and dance with me, sir," Kurt said. "You bought me beer, you have to dance!"

Blaine laughed at Kurt's enthusiasm. "Sure, why not? I love dancing," he announced.

Kurt was moving his body against Blaine's in a way that, by some loose definition, was dancing. It wasn't graceful by any means (neither of them were at the moment), mostly just waving limbs and shaking hips.

"If you wanna be my lover!" he sang along. He apparently was not lying when he said that he loved the song. He sang the chorus fairly accurately, barring some inevitable slurring.

During the verses, however, his sing-shouting declined into mostly random syllables that vaguely resembled the tune of Wannabe. "Fuck it," he said, sighing. "Spin me!"

Blaine laughed, taking Kurt by the hand and twirling him around. In hindsight, it was a bit of a risky move. He didn't know how well Kurt held his alcohol, after all.

"Kurt," he announced, "this song, Wannabe by the Spice Girls, this is our song."

Kurt had been trying to sing along again. He looked up at Blaine with a frown. "The words are so fast," he sobbed.

Blaine chuckled. "You are a fun person. I'm just trying to figure out how much of this is the alcohol."

Kurt looked at him for a second, looking a bit like he wanted to say something but didn't have the words—as to what he was thinking, Blaine couldn't be sure—then grinned as the chorus got closer. "Sing with me, Blaine! Sing!"

And so together they sang. "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends! Make it last forever, friendship never ends!"

He looked up at Blaine, grinning, and surged forward, pressing his lips against Blaine's. As soon as Blaine relaxed into the kiss and tilted his head for a better angle, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. It probably wasn't the best kiss: Kurt had very little experience in that area and he was drunk to boot, but, well, some things were just instinctual. When Kurt's phone vibrated in Blaine's pocket—their bodies tucked close enough together that they both felt it—Blaine pulled back with a moan.

Kurt pulled the phone from Blaine's pocket, looking at the words on the screen. "It's Finn!" he announced brightly. "He wants to know where I am!"

Blaine let out a long sigh. "Are you leaving?"

"I think so," he said absently, "Finn wants to leave and he always leaves when I want to leave." He smiled at Blaine. "Goodbye, Blaine!"

Blaine reached out to grab his arm as he turned to leave. "You're not driving, are you?"

"No," Kurt said. "Finn isn't drinking so he can drive. He's the best. I love him." He leaned over and kissed Blaine's cheek. "You are a gentleman and a scholar."

Blaine grinned. "Goodbye, Kurt," he said. Kurt stumbled, though, and Blaine rushed forward to grab him. "I'll help you to the door."

"I'm fine," Kurt argued, but he didn't put up much of a fight as Blaine looped an arm around him.

They made their way to the door. As soon as they stepped outside into the cool night air, Kurt made an excited noise and ran to hug a tall man who looked down in surprise at him.

"You're Finn, right?" Blaine asked. "…if not, this is so awkward."

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Umm, thanks for helping Kurt get out here."

"Blaine's nice, Finn," Kurt said. "Just like you're nice. I love you."

Finn gave a slight wave to Blaine as he nodded at Kurt. "I love you, too, Kurt," he said, leading Kurt to the car as Blaine went back inside.

Kurt spent the next day mostly in bed, sleeping off his hangover as best as he could. When Finn woke him up to hand him Advil and water—he was a good brother—he informed Finn, "I am never drinking again."

Finn let out a quiet laugh. "I believe you, bro," he said.

"I mean it this time," he insisted. "I don't even remember last night."

"So you don't remember the guy you met?"

"I… do," Kurt replied, though the word 'do' came out sounding more like a question. "It's all fuzzy."

Finn shrugged. "No biggie," he said.

"His name began with a B," he said, sinking back into the bed. "I know that much."

Finn stood up to leave the room. "It was a random guy at a club. You'll probably never see him again."

"True," Kurt said, rolling over onto his side.

"Night," Finn said, even though it was only around noon.

"Night."

In the morning, Kurt was feeling decidedly more human. Human enough, in fact, that he got up in the morning and even offered to get Finn some coffee. He said no, but it was the thought that counted.

He had been to the Lima Bean countless times in his life. It was one of the few places that he had felt like he belonged when he was in high school. It was his safe place, and by now he considered everyone that worked there his friends.

"Morning, Kurt," the barista, a curvy blond named Brooke said to him as he walked in. "Grande nonfat mocha?"

"Of course," he said, smiling as she went to work on the drink.

"I heard you lost your job," she commented remorsefully. Raising her eyebrows at him, she added, "You know, you could just come work here."

"But then it wouldn't be my hideaway," Kurt pointed out, pulling out his wallet.

"Whatever you say, Kurt," she said. She set the drink on the counter and he handed her a five dollar bill, gesturing for her to keep the change.

He sat down at his regular table and took the lid off to stir his coffee. At the sound of someone pulling the chair across the table from him out, he looked up in surprise.

"Kurt." Smiling at him was the man from the other night. Now that he saw his face again and he was decidedly less hung over, his name popped back into Kurt's mind.

"Blaine," he said. "From the club. What are you doing here?"

"I can't like coffee?" Blaine asked, grinning as he lifted his own white paper Lima Bean cup.

"Maybe the better question is why you're talking to me," he said with a sigh.

Blaine frowned at him, sitting down. "It's back," he said. "That sad look, I mean."

"I'm not sad," Kurt said.

"You're definitely a bit grumpy, though," he said with a shrug.

"This is just me," he said. "Take it or leave it."

"You seemed really fun the other night."

"I was drunk," Kurt argued.

"Well, sure," Blaine said, "but you made the decision to have fun. Do you remember anything from the night before last?"

"Some things, sure," Kurt said. "I know who you are, obviously." He blinked. "I didn't kiss you, did I? Is that what this is about?"

Blaine looked like he was about to say something, but Kurt continued to speak.

"Because I should let you know now that I am not like that. At all."

There was a flicker of something Kurt wasn't entirely sure of (disappointment? Sadness? But what would he be disappointed or sad about?) on Blaine's face, but he quickly brightened. "Don't worry, Kurt, you didn't do anything untoward."

"So why exactly are you here?"

"I… you really look really sad," Blaine said.

"I'm fine, honestly," Kurt said, shaking his head. He felt a bit touched, though, that this random man had noticed and was making more of an effort for him than anyone but his father had for nearly as long as he could remember. Not that he would let Blaine know that; then he would never go away. No matter how cute Blaine was—which, Kurt would admit, was pretty cute—he was still the sort of person to approach strangers at bars.

"But you're not," Blaine said. "Also, you just lost your job."

"How did you know that?" Kurt asked.

"I'm not creepy, but I heard the woman at the counter say something about it," Blaine said.

"Okay," Kurt said, frowning. "But yeah, that's my secret. That's why I'm sad. But everyone has to deal with stuff like this once in a while, right? Nothing new. As an old friend of mine would put it, I have to put on my big girl panties and—"

"You're overselling it," Blaine said.

"What?"

"You're trying to make me believe that you're sad because you lost your job," he said, "which I would have believed, until you started a bit of a monologue there. It's obvious you don't want to tell me. Which is fine."

"You're not going to pursue it?" Kurt asked, furrowing his brow. Everything Blaine had done so far had suggested that he was exactly the sort of guy to press him for details in a misguided effort to be a hero. Not that Kurt would mind having a hero.

"No," Blaine said, with a shrug.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Life screwed you over," Blaine said, "and I'm not going to be that guy right now."

"What guy?"

"You know, the kind of guy who you think I am. Overly friendly to the point of annoyance, and pushy to get details on people's lives when it has to relevance to him," he said. After a moment, he added, "That first part might actually be me, though."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Okay, sure, whatever. I appreciate you respecting my privacy, now could you just—?"

"No," Blaine cut him off.

"What."

"I am not leaving you alone, since I'm sure that's what you're going to ask," Blaine said. "I have a proposal for you."

Kurt hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay, I'll bite," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Before I say this, I need to remind you that I am not a rapist."

"That's always a good thing to hear," Kurt deadpanned.

"Okay, so, I saw you, and you looked really sad," Blaine said, frowning. "And I said to myself, this guy needs something good in his life."

"I have good things in my life," Kurt disputed. "I have a nice apartment, a loving family, and—"

"A list of regrets and broken dreams way too long for someone your age?" Blaine suggested. Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but he silenced him, holding up a finger. "I'm not trying to insult you. I'm just… I want to do something nice for you, because you deserve it."

"You don't even know me," Kurt said, looking at him, confused.

"I know what I need to know," he said. "You've got that look… sad, lonely… I've been there." A sad look crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by a wide grin. "My proposal is that I take you on an adventure."

"What kind of adventure?"

"I... have you ever played hide and seek, Kurt?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "Of course," he said. He was concerned about where Blaine was going with this, but he was still willing to listen.

"Well, this would be sort of like that," Blaine said. "I would go somewhere in the world, and you would try to come find me. Or the other way around, I suppose."

Kurt snorted. "And how would you suggest I paid for that?" he asked. Blaine was enthusiastic and friendly, sure, but it seemed that he was not particularly realistic.

"You wouldn't," Blaine said. "That wouldn't really be me doing anything for you. That would essentially just be you stalking me."

"So instead you're trying to pay to have me stalk you," Kurt said. "Is this some kind of fetish for you, or…?"

"No, no, no!" Blaine said, his voice getting a little louder as he shook his head emphatically. A few people turned to look to see what was going on, and he lowered his voice. "It is not like that at all!"

"But what do you get out of this?" Kurt asked.

"Why do I have to get something out of this?" he asked.

"This could get really expensive really quickly," he said, "and I know people aren't just generous like that for no reason."

"There," Blaine said, gesturing across the table at Kurt.

"What?"

"That right there is exactly why I want to do this," Blaine said. "You are pessimistic. And maybe it's just because you're like that, I don't know, but I just have this feeling the world made you this cold. I just want to help."

"I appreciate the thought, Blaine, but I really don't think this is a good idea."

Blaine looked as if he had been physically struck by the rejection. "Why not?"

"Why would it be anything but a terrible idea, Blaine?" Kurt asked, sounding exasperated.

"I'm not doing anything, you're not doing anything—"

"I need to look for a job," Kurt pointed out. "That's not nothing."

"Don't you see, Kurt?" Blaine asked, looking hopeful. "This is literally perfect timing. You've just lost your job. This is the perfect time for you to go out and do something reckless. You've never been reckless, have you, Kurt?"

"I got irresponsibly drunk the other night," Kurt pointed out.

"That's not reckless, Kurt," Blaine said, "You had a designated driver."

"I don't know you," Kurt said. "And I can't take your money like that."

"You see, Kurt, I am obscenely wealthy. You would be helping me by taking some of it off my hands."

"We met once at a club. It would just be stupid of me to trust you when—"

"You have to take risks sometimes, Kurt. And besides, you don't really even have to see me. I'm more of just… a game master. Giving you a goal that you're trying to get to, but mostly this is just an opportunity for you to get out a little."

"I'm still not sure about this."

"So what you're saying is that you want to stay in small town Ohio for the rest of your life?"

"No, but—"

"Come on, Kurt. I'll even give you hints." Blaine sounded like he was getting a bit desperate at this point.

"Hints?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "I can't just have you blind. I mean, I can't be too specific, but you seem like a smart person. I'm sure you'll be able to follow my trail." He took a sip of his coffee, smiling at Kurt. "That is, if you accept my offer, of course."

"I can't just leave."

"You lost your job and I'd be sending you money. You have no reason not to follow me." Coming from anyone else, the statement probably would have sounded a bit more worrisome, but somehow it didn't bother Kurt.

It also didn't convince him, either. "My friends—"

"Will understand and be envious."

"It's really just—"

"Kurt, you know those inalienable rights in the Declaration of Independence? They're like life, liberty, and the pursuit of adventure?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "You do know that it's the pursuit of happiness, though, right?"

Blaine shrugged. "That works, too," he said. "Sometimes an adventure is exactly what you need to be happy."

"Seriously, did you even go to elementary school?"

"That's the thing about being filthy rich," Blaine said. "I could just pay people to go for me."

Kurt paused. "Seriously?'

His only answer was a loud laugh.

Kurt looked across the table at the laughing man with dancing eyes and encouraging smile and for a moment he felt a pull in his heart. It was screaming at him to just say yes, dammit, but his brain told him to be more careful.

"Do I have to answer now?" Kurt asked.

Blaine perked up, looking like a puppy whose owner had just bought him a new toy. "Of course not," he said, standing. Turning to leave, he said, "Just get back to me when you figure it out."

"Wait, Blaine, I don't have your number," he said urgently.

"Yeah you do," he answered, gesturing at the table, where Kurt's phone was sitting. Kurt unlocked it, bringing up his contacts. Sure enough, there was a Blaine Anderson, and he had the faint recollection of Blaine playing with his phone at the Candy Shop.

When he looked back up, Blaine was gone from the coffee shop. "What an ass," he said under his breath, looking back down at the name and phone number on his screen.

He had a lot of thinking to do.