A/N: This is based off a Humans of New York Story which someone on Tumblr wanted put into Klaine fic, and it honestly sparked my inner-writer so I decided to elaborate on that. I send out my best wishes for the guys whose story this is in real life, and other than that I hope you all enjoy!
It was one of those nights that Blaine just felt like staying in bed and reading all night. After all, he had already had his fair share of Whiskey and didn't want to go out. He carried out these plans—well, until his friends burst into his appointment wearing their clubbing clothes, which only meant one thing.
"Nooo," he groaned when he saw Tina and Sam's figures appear in his doorway. "Guys I don't wanna go out tonight."
His face disappeared into his pillows to show how much he wanted to stay in bed.
"Aw come on, dude." Sam pouted, crossing his arms at his friend.
"We can't go clubbing without you, Blainey-days!" Tina exclaimed bouncing in the room and sitting at the foot of his bed, tucking her legs underneath her. "Who am I supposed to rate hot guys with if you aren't there?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Definitely not me." He sliced his hand in front of his throat in a no way motion. "Seriously bro, we'll make it up to you."
"How?" Blaine asked sulkily.
"I don't know, how about… Tina could write your midterm for you!" Sam suggested, making Tina hit him in the stomach.
"I didn't agree to that." She glared. "Buuut, I could make you cookies?"
Blaine's head whipped up at the mention of cookies. "Really?"
"Sure, I guess. As long as you come to the club with us please!" she begged, clasping her hands together.
He stared at her for a moment, trying to settle the internal disagreement of cookies or bed. Then he hung his head and flopped back onto the pillow, caving in.
"Fine. Leave me alone to get dressed and then we can go." He sighed. The other two pumped their fists and closed the door. Blaine could hear their excited chatter and occasional banter as he threw on a black bomber jacket over his grey NYU sweatshirt, not caring about getting too dressed up. After all, who did he expect to meet at the club? Certainly no one worth dressing up for. He paired the combination with some maroon skinny jeans and gelled his hair only slightly so the natural curls weren't gone, just slightly less unruly.
"Oh, and guys?" he said when he went back out into the main part of his apartment. Tina and Sam turned their attention to him, still smiling. "I'm going to need some money."
"What for?" Tina asked suspiciously.
"Cookie dough. Duh."
She rolled her eyes and pulled her fake-diamond encrusted wallet from her jacket pocket, then handed him a twenty from inside.
"We'll meet you there, I guess." She sighed.
"But you'd better show up." Sam threatened lightly and punched him in the shoulder. "Seriously," he whispered. "I can only take so much Tina by myself."
Blaine scoffed. "Just get out of here." He joked.
He left just after Sam and Tina, grabbing a backpack and putting the twenty-dollar bill inside. It was an uneventful trip to the convenience store to buy three bags of ginger-snap cookie dough. The cashier gave him a wary glance as he looked around the store apathetically, and he mumbled a half-hearted thanks (which came out as 'nks') and walked the rest of the way to the club.
He had only been no more than twenty-five minutes, he was sure. And yet, after searching the darkened crowd of grinding, drunk people, he noticed Sam and Tina—making out with two complete strangers in corners. Put that down on the list of things you wish hadn't happened, Blaine thought bitterly. What now?
He stood by the door, scowling at everything and everyone, repeatedly muttering 'this sucks this sucks' to himself, for a minute. After he had thrown himself the world's worst pity party, he decided, screw it. I'm here anyways, might as well dance.
So Blaine began bopping along to the thrum of music he wasn't sure had a melody, throwing in a few disheartened moves every few seconds. At one point, he even pulled out a package of cookie dough and opened it, dipping his thumb and index finger in and eating a handful.
He noticed a few people giving him weird glances and whispering to their friends-slash-partners, but one man in particular was looking—no, staring at him inquisitively. The man appeared to be alone, standing by the DJ booth and swaying his hips to the beat. He was also, as Blaine noticed, very attractive. Even in the club's dim lighting, he could see the careful coif of Mystery Guy's (as Blaine had decided to call him) hair, and the way his legs—amongst other things—filled out his pants.
The first thing to cross Blaine's mind was 'whoa', then, 'who does he think he's looking at', and finally, 'Well, he looks lonely too. I bet he could use some cookie dough.'
Blaine made his way slowly to the other side of the club where MG was dancing, still looking at him. He never stopped bopping slightly or taking no-so-slight bites of the cookie dough, but soon he was standing directly beside him. MG quirked an eyebrow at him, now looking amused. Blaine responded by holding out the package of cookie dough invitingly, and smirked. Sure enough, MG shrugged and pulled out a handful, popping it into his mouth.
The rest of the night was spent dancing beside each other and sharing the two-and-a-half bags of dough, not having said a word to each other the whole time. After an hour or so, a girl Blane's height or so rushed up to MG and tugged on the elbow of his shirt.
"We need to go, Finn's waiting outside." She yelled above the music, and MG turned apologetically to Blaine, and stole one more bite of cookie dough before waving slightly and walking away with the girl leeching onto his arm.
He heard her say "Who was that?" before they disappeared together and Blaine stood still for a moment, inexplicably sad. He wasn't supposed to miss a literal stranger who he hadn't interacted with at all except for sharing some cookie dough, was he?
He shrugged and threw the empty package into his backpack, searching the club for his two friends who had, for all he knew, left with strangers for one night stands. After doing a second scan of the room, he saw Tina sitting at the bar, laughing her ass off with a girl with platinum hair piled high on her head and a bad spray-tan. Making his way over, he waved.
"Tina, do you know where Sam is? I think I should head home."
"Oh hiiiiiiiii, Blainey-days!" she slurred. "I think Sam left with some girl. Her name was like Marissa or Melanie or something like that. I dunno."
Oh, great. "You gonna be okay if I leave?" he asked.
"Oh yeeeeah, I'll be fiiiiine."
Blaine gave her a pat on the back and left the club, calling a cab to take him home. When he got to his apartment, he went straight for his bedroom, not even bothering to turn on lights as he went or getting undressed. The only thing he wanted was to go to sleep, to dream about Mystery Guy from the club. And cookies.
MONTHS LATER
It was the last day of the semester, and at last Blaine was on his way home from class. He boarded the Subway and went to sit down in the seat in the corner. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one with that idea. He bumped into someone and knocked a cell phone out of their hand.
"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, surprised. He bent down to retrieve it and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the screen wasn't broken.
"That's alright, totally my fault." The person laughed, and it sounded like music to Blaine's ear. He handed it up to the person and looked up.
"Hey," the man in front of him said, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Blaine studied the beautiful man, looking from his hair down to his shoes, trying to think of where he know him from before he realized he was checking him out accidentally.
"Oh of course!" the man knocked the heel of his hand against his forehead. "You're the guy from the club! With the cookie dough, right?"
Blaine gaped, mentally slapping himself because of course, how could he forget this guy?
"Yeah and you're the guy who judged me for having it until I shared." He teased, adding a wink.
"Hey, in my defense you stood out amongst the people who actually looked like they wanted to be there."
Blaine chuckled. "You caught me."
The man giggled as well and held out a hand. "I'm Kurt by the way. We've never actually spoken before."
"I'm Blaine." He shook Kurt's hand. "You know, while we're getting to finally introducing ourselves, could I get your number?"
Kurt looked shocked for a second, then blushed and nodded shyly. "S-sure."
When Blaine reached his stop, he said goodbye to Kurt with another wink and got off the subway. He smiled to himself as he pulled out his cell phone and pulled up Kurt's contact.
Would you want to meet me for dinner this week?
It only took seconds for a cheeky reply to come back.
Hmm idk, will there be cookie dough involved?
I guess you'll have to find that out yourself ;)
In that case, how could I say no ;)
Blaine didn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.