This is just a silly little AU three-shot that occurred to me when I realised that I couldn't remember how I met my boyfriend (I remember now though, university History lecture. My best friend thought he was cute).Basically Anderberry and Hudmel siblings and Finchel and Klaine pairings (though it pains me to imagine Darren Criss in anything other than the scenario in which he sings Not Alone to me at our wedding... I jest... mostly...). There will be Starkid references, I can't help it, it just happens. Probably because AVPM is just totally awesome, but whatever... Oh yes. I don't own Glee (or AVPM, unfortunately). Also, this may very well be of horrid standard. And quite random. Because the way I think is less than normal. I'm just an overtired university kid avoiding her typology assignment after all...
How did you two meet?
People constantly asked this of couples. Apparently it was important. To be honest, Finn always thought this was an oversimplification of the fact. The how was important, but the meeting of two people is so much more than that, there are the whys and the wheres and the whos to consider. The how did you feels and the how did you looks.
The heart stutterings and the miscommunications.
The where of their first meeting is fairly standard.
They'd met in a bar.
A dark, smokey bar, where the drinks were ridiculously overpriced and there was always a line for the bathroom, but the acoustics were amazing and they often had really great live music. Finn had been dragged there by his brother. He sometimes wished the story of why he and Rachel had met was more romantic ('And then we both reached for the kale and our hands touched, instant sparks, and Brad said he never thought veganism would pay off so much, it was so romantic, wasn't it romantic Brad?') than because his brother had wanted to fuck hers, but there what can you do?
(She thought it was hysterical. She often said that it was Kurt's libido which had brought them together. This, however, was not a sentiment she expressed when she found Kurt and Blaine hooking up in her bed. Then it was less funny more 'oh-God-my-eyes!')
Kurt had been gushing over this boy for weeks, how oh-so talented he was and did you know he goes to that fancy-assed art school and can you believe that his eyes are like a babbling brook over cool stone on a hot summer's day. Yeah, Kurt with a new crush was always fun. Finn supposed it was nice though, to like someone so much you spew doesn't-make-sense romantic crap about them every chance you got (and to your brother who really didn't want to hear it for five hours straight, thank you very much). And so, when Kurt had found out (read: Facebook stalked) that Blaine Anderson-Berry was singing at some club downtown he'd put on his best shirt ('Alexander McQueen, and good God Finn, must you always wear plaid?') and dragged his reluctant brother for a night out on the town, with the promise of some of that overpriced beer if he was well-behaved.
They'd entered the bar and Kurt immediately zeroed in on seats (not too close to the stage, he didn't want to seem eager, but in the middle, a little ways to the back, where he could see clearly and the acoustics were better). They'd sat at the down and, while Kurt scanned the crowd for people he knew, Finn took the opportunity to signal a waitress for some drinks (it may be overpriced, but beer was beer and he had to drink something in order to make his brother's gushing a bit more bearable. He loved the dude, but really...). Slowly the place filled up, some mediocre guys took the stage and sang a few covers of Kansas songs to a smattering of applause. When the Blaine kid took the stage ('there he is Finn! Isn't he gorgeous? Just look at that hair!'), the crowd burst to life, because apparently he was quite popular ('Yes Finn. Because he sings like an angel!'). He settled down onto the stool and nodded to the audience before breaking into a bluesy song about jealousy. He was good. Really good actually. And Kurt was lapping it up.
The bar had filled up quite a lot in during the Kansas tribute band ('dude, we're just all about the music, you know?'), and it was now standing room only. A short brunette girl who was standing next to Kurt's seat somewhat squashed between a large tattooed man with a bushy handlebar moustache and massive sideburns (named Paulo, who, wouldn't you know, owned a little deli on 17th and Broadway and loved to sing Pavarotti on Sunday mornings as he made his way to church) and a bitchy looking Latina girl, who stood with her arms folded over her ample chest with a scowl on her face (Rachel had later told him that, like Kurt, she thought that that was where she'd get the best sound). The brunette clucked her tongue and sighed.
"He's a bit pitchy tonight," she muttered to no one in particular, shaking her head a bit as she did so, with a look an authoritative look on her face.
Kurt gasped and swung around to glare at her, demanding just who did she think she was and was she even hearing the same sweet music that he was? She shrugged, clearly unaffected by being yelled at by a well-dressed boy who (at least, so she later claimed) clearly wanted her brother's beef, a strand of her hair tumbling behind her shoulder as she did so.
"That's my baby brother up there," there was pride bubbling up in that voice, Finn noticed, and those eyes (wow those fucking gorgeous, how could eyes even be that pretty, oh my God, breathe Finn, big brown eyes) shone brightly as she said, "I've been listening to him sing ever sing he was two and decided that singing was far better than talking. Trust me. He can do better. He's just nervous tonight."
(He had been nervous, Finn had found out later, because he'd known that Kurt was going to be there. Apparently the Facebook stalking and gushing in this case was not one-sided.)
Kurt, for whom speechlessness was never a problem, actually was quiet for a moment before promptly saying in one big breath "Oh my goodness! He's so talented! You are so lucky to be related to someone with such a magnificent musical ability. And such depth. I should know, you know, I study music at NYU. He's fantastic. What's he like in person? Is his personality reflected in his songs? I think it is, but then, I don't know him so... Does he really write his own music? Oh! It is so nice to meet you!" He reached over and shook her hand enthusiastically. Her eyes (oh those eyes) were sparkling now as they slid over to Finn, who rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and rolled his own eyes affectionately at his brother (who was usually much more cool and aloof than this...)
She giggled and nodded at Kurt's enquiries, "Why yes, he's very talented. I should know too, you know, I study musical theatre at NYADA. And yes, his personality is very well reflected in his music, which yes, he does indeed write himself, though sometimes with my help..."
And so it began.
Began with his brother wanting to fuck hers.
Romantic, it wasn't.
She'd sat down at their table after Kurt (with the hopes that her brother might join them) had suggested that they buy her drinks (he was really laying it on thick) and Finn had gulped and nodded, because, frankly, even if it did require him spending his week's pay on overpriced beer (which wasn't even very nice), having this girl sit at their table was way worth it. He liked the way her brown hair curled on her shoulders. He liked her polka dot dress and the way that it was just a little bit short (because, boy, did her legs go on forever). He even liked her nose, which was a little on the large side, but seemed to be just right for her. He liked that gold star necklace that she kept fiddling with (later, when they were lying in bed and he was hovered over her, about to reach down and kiss her sweetly on the forehead, he'd watched the light catch the gold and had finally asked her about the necklace. 'It's a metaphor Finn. For me being a star. Metaphors are important.' He liked how self-assured she was. Even though she'd admitted to him that whenever she was about to sing on stage she got a crazy attack of the nerves and that sometimes she doubted, secretly, that she'd ever be a star at all.) And he especially liked how, after sitting down, she indulged his brother in an affectionate story about Blaine as a toddler.
Blaine had made his way out from the backstage area (a little room which held a bucket, a rickety old garden chair, a dirty mirror, and, strangely, a plastic pink flamingo, which sat in the corner and regarded all of the singers who stood nervously waiting their turn with a rather superior and judgemental air). He'd blushed scarlet when he'd seen whom his sister was sitting with and he and Kurt had stared at each other for a good few minutes until Finn had cleared his throat awkwardly. They'd all knocked back a few more drinks and then Blaine, who'd surreptitiously (read: very overtly) placed his hand on Kurt's thigh, had drunkenly suggested that they make a move to the diner. The diner, it would turn out, was an open-all night establishment run by an Italian immigrant named Maria (who had a secret fling going on with Pablo, the moustached owner of the deli down the street), which served cheap coffee (finally a drink that wasn't going to break the bank) and what Rachel had deemed, in an excited voice, to be scrumptious waffles. The four of them, who, if we're honest, didn't know each other from Adam (and Eve), made their way along the road at three o clock in the morning, arms haphazardly thrown across each other's shoulders, singing Journey songs at the top of their lungs (disturbing all the neighbours and generally making fools of themselves) towards the promise of food as if they were the best of friends.
Fate has a funny way of working sometimes.
They'd entered the diner and collapsed into booths, giggling helplessly as Rachel tried to articulate their order (Maria brought them waffles even though Rachel had said 'those pancake-y things with the syrup receptacle things in which the syrup gets all, you know, trapped and such'. Apparently she was used to overly complicated orders from drunken customers). The waffles, in case anyone was concerned, were indeed scrumptious and the conversation as scintillating as drunken conversation can get (though punctuated with a lot of pointless laughter). And then they parted ways. Blaine and Kurt shared a sloppy kiss whilst Finn had stared at Rachel's pretty eyes and wondered what it would be like to wake up next to her, but had stood with his hands in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold air (Rachel had done the same thing. Though, she reasoned, the onus was on him to make the first move). Somehow (neither of them can remember this portion of the evening) their brothers managed to exchange phone numbers and off they went. Their separate ways.
Sometimes you stupidly give up chances because it's freaking freezing and you're sober enough to realise just how scared you are of rejection.
AN: Okily dokily. Reviews are welcome. I'm likely to continue this (you know, so it gets some resolutions and things) but I have an essay to finish so for now I'm gonna stop there. It's basically a story of their various meetings and finally them getting together. I know it's horrid, but I have writers block and this was just knocking around in my brain begging to be written...
The second time they met was different.
They'd met in a coffee shop.
Unlike the bar, the coffee shop was light and airy. Clean. The owner prided herself on the artsy quality of the decor and the fact that there were old books scattered around on tables for people to peruse whilst they waited for their order. It was a particular favourite of Rachel's, close to her campus, and the waiter knew her order by heart.