A/N: This is just something stupid and fluffy that came to me and boom - five minutes later, here it is. Since "I know your coffee order" is such a big thing with Klaine, I thought maybe Kurt doesn't know Sebastian's coffee order (I mean, we don't) and maybe there's a really stupid reason. Dalton!Kurtbastian, with a change that they go to Starbucks every morning instead of The Lima Bean because they'd be in Westerville, not Lima.
"I don't know your coffee order!"
Kurt seems to come to this realization suddenly while he and Sebastian are both standing in line at Starbucks, then stares at his boyfriend with expectation in his eyes.
Sebastian simply looks at him and scoffs.
"What?" he says with a peculiar unease. "Yeah…of course you do. You see me drink my coffee every day."
"Yes, I see you drink it every day," Kurt says, pointing that out with a finger in the air, "but I've never heard you order it. At about this time you tell me to go get a table, and then you buy the coffees." Kurt bites his lower lip and chuckles. "It's probably something really long-winded, right? Like a half double-decaf soy latte with 2% whipped foam?" Sebastian shakes his head with a condescending smirk, but that doesn't deter Kurt's teasing. "Or you're one of those crazy guys who makes the barista heat their coffee to exactly 120 degrees, aren't you?"
Sebastian rolls his eyes. "This coming from the guy who needs to sit at a table that only gets indirect semi-shade."
"I freckle easily," Kurt says with a minor pout, "and most of these tables get too much direct sunlight."
"Speaking of which, you should go grab a table. This place is filling up quick," Sebastian says, elusively changing the subject.
Kurt turns to leave at the suggestion, then stops mid-step.
"Oh my God!" he says, looking back with an incredulous grin. "You've turned me into a Pavlovian dog!"
"You said it, not me," Sebastian says, taking Kurt by the shoulders to redirect him and smacking him on the backside to get him moving.
"Nu-uh," Kurt says, stepping to the side and away from Sebastian's swatting hand. "Not this time, Smythe. I'm going to stay right here and listen to you order your coffee."
"Fine," Sebastian says with a superior-looking grin. "Then I won't order any this morning."
"What?" Kurt says in disbelief. "Really? You'd rather spite me than get your coffee."
"Kurt, I'd rather spite you than do most things," Sebastian says, keeping his eyes forward on the other heads in line.
"You know, someday I'm going to find out," Kurt says. "You're not that good at keeping secrets from me."
"Really?" Sebastian stares down at Kurt with amusement. "What's my favorite color? Hmm? What's the last book I read? What's my favorite breakfast cereal?"
Kurt stands there with his mouth open, trying to come up with answers to Sebastian's questions, but when he can't, he snaps it shut again.
"That's what I thought," Sebastian says, stepping forward when the person at the front of the line leaves. "On the other hand, your favorite color is russet, the last book you read was Heir of Fire, and your favorite cereal is Cock Rings."
"Rooster O's," Kurt corrects sternly, smiling at an older woman who shoots them an awkward and dirty glance. "And knowing all of that doesn't make you deep, you know," Kurt says, stepping forward with Sebastian as the next person in line leaves with their coffee.
"No, it makes me observant," Sebastian says smugly.
"It means that I open up to you," Kurt remarks, slightly hurt though admittedly a little embarrassed. He racks his brain, trying to come up with an image of Sebastian reading – at his house, at school, during Warbler practice, in the library – but he can't think of one. He tries to think of the clothes Sebastian wears when he's not in uniform. Does he wear any one color more than others? No, not that Kurt knows. And as for breakfast cereal, all Kurt has ever seen Sebastian have in the morning is coffee, here, at Starbucks. "You don't tell me anything, like you're afraid I'm automatically going to make fun of you or something."
"You usually do," Sebastian mumbles.
"I do not," Kurt argues in his defense. "When was the last time I made fun of you?"
"Remember last month when I got that hair cut?" Sebastian asks. If Kurt doesn't remember, Sebastian sure does. Aside from Kurt laughing at him every time they were alone, Kurt wouldn't sit next to him in public till it started to grow back in, which took about two weeks.
"Let me re-phrase that," Kurt says, a chuckle bubbling up in his throat at the memory of Sebastian's horrendous do. "When was the last time I made fun of you when you didn't deserve it?"
"Has it ever crossed your mind to ask me how I take my coffee?" Sebastian says, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet.
Sebastian mentions it matter-of-factly, but Kurt feels like he's been scolded. But Sebastian is right. It never dawned on Kurt to ask Sebastian how he takes his coffee. In fact, he's only ever offered to pay three times before Sebastian made it clear that he picks up the tabs in this relationship. Still, that's not an excuse. If Kurt were a better boyfriend, he'd demand to know, right?
"I'm sorry," Kurt says, putting a hand on Sebastian's arm, lingering on his bicep.
"That's alright," Sebastian says, actually sounding kind of nervous as they approach the counter.
"No," Kurt says, shaking his head, "I mean it. You're right. I should have asked."
"It's fine," Sebastian says, voice tight, eyes darting between Kurt and the barista behind the counter. "Now, why don't you go find us a table, and I'll bring you your coffee?"
"But I'm being serious. I want to know how you take your coffee."
"Babe," Sebastian says with a dry laugh, "go get us a table. I've got this covered."
Kurt drops his hand from Sebastian's arm and huffs.
"You're still not going to tell me your coffee order?" Kurt asks, his voice rising in disgust, as if Sebastian's resistance to let Kurt in on this secret is the height of insult.
"That's right," Sebastian says with an obnoxious wink.
"Well, I'm just going to stand right here and listen to you order it, then," Kurt says, crossing his arms and planting his feet, determined to see this resolved.
"No…you…won't," Sebastian grounds out through his teeth, "because I'm not going to have any!"
"Grande non-fat mocha," the barista says, sliding a cup over to Kurt. Kurt looks at her with wide eyes, his cheeks a bit pinker from knowing she stood there with a smile on her face waiting while they bitched about coffee.
"Uh, yeah," Kurt says, finding a smile for her. Wendy. She's always here when they are. She seems like a nice woman. She doesn't deserve a front row seat to their ridiculous angst-fest. "Thanks."
"And for you," she says, sliding a cup Sebastian's way. He stares at it for a second, his face going blank, then he closes his eyes in defeat as Wendy starts to recite his order, "venti, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot, split quad shots (1 1/2 shots decaf, 2 1/2 shots regular), no foam latte, with whip, 2 packets of Splenda, 1 Sugar in the Raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon."
Time seems to slow as Sebastian reaches for his cup without opening his eyes. Kurt's first instinct to start laughing is put temporarily on hold by his complete and utter awe that Wendy - this underappreciated, put upon, minimum wage earning barista - actually remembers all of that. Jesus Christ! Kurt really needs to start tipping better.
"Thank you," Sebastian says, putting a ten dollar bill on the counter.
"Out of ten," Wendy says, not losing a single inch of her smile as she takes the bill and rings up Sebastian's order. When Sebastian opens his eyes, Kurt is staring at him with his jaw dropped.
"What…what was that?" he asks with a snort. Sebastian doesn't answer, putting out a hand to accept his change. "Is that…that's your coffee order?" Still no response as Sebastian stuffs his change in his pocket, forgoing the wallet in his other pocket. "That's what's in your coffee cup every morning?"
"Yeah," Sebastian says, cheeks red like Kurt's never seen them before. "And?"
Kurt puts a hand up in surrender.
"Nothing," he says with a laugh, heading for the only empty table left. "You're right. I didn't want to know."