Scene Nine

"Nice of you to make it to practice, Kurt."

Blaine paused at the door, equipment in hand, at the familiar, bossy tone that could belong to none other than Rachel Berry.

"Nice of me to make it? Nice of all of you not to completely blow it off," Kurt's voice quipped back, rising in volume toward the end of his sentence.

"Didn't Finn text you?" Rachel asked. "We had practice at the gym."

"Finn," Kurt said, "didn't text me anything."

"And for what reason did you have it in the gym, anyways?" Kurt continued. "To set me aside? Surely you can't get anything done in the gym. There's at least five different sports teams in there every afternoon."

"Hmmph," Rachel grunted.

"All of this is because of Blaine, isn't it?" Kurt asked in a quieter voice, then added, "Scratch that, I know it's because of Blaine."

"You should have known what would happen if you started dating him," Rachel said.

"We aren't dating!" Kurt said, sounding exasperated. "We're just friends, I'm not even sure if he's gay, and even if, Rachel, you sound like you just jumped out of a bad Disney Channel movie. Could you... I don't know, grow up a little?"

"You're the one who needs to grow up and accept that you're the one who's wrong here, Kurt," Rachel countered. "You knew what would happen, so stop arguing with me like a child."

"It's funny, you know," Blaine said, finally easing himself through the cracked auditorium doors. "A friend Kurt's only had for a few days already acts more like one than the friends he's had for a while."

Every head turned in Blaine's direction. There were noises of obvious disapproval, and a quiet mutter from Santana (who had remained silent throughout the entire encounter), "If they aren't screwing now, they will be."

Ignoring the crude comment, Kurt's lips twitched up in a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Finding the right angles," Blaine said, lifting his tripod, "for filming the musical. But I guess I ended up doing a bit more than that."

"Like leaving," Rachel huffed with a pointed glare in Kurt's direction. "Just go, Kurt. Practice your lines at home, for the sake of the musical. We won't get anywhere like this."

Kurt returned the glare. "Fine. I will," and with that, he marched down the aisle toward Blaine, and in a whisper said, "I'm so sorry. How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Blaine assured, tentatively placing his free hand on Kurt's shoulder. "They're idiots."

"Thank you," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do, before throwing all caution out the window as he said, "C'mon. I'll buy you coffee."

"Grande nonfat mocha."

Blaine put his hand on Kurt's as the other boy made for his wallet, slowly pushing it aside and ignoring the rush of sensation the contact brought. "I told you, it's on me."

Kurt regarded him with a faint smile and what could only be described as a twinkle in his eye before it was gone and he said, "I'm going to use the restroom."

Blaine nodded and watched as he left, only bringing his gaze away when the barista called out his name. He grabbed the two coffees and handed over a ten dollar bill, patiently waiting for his change. When he got it he made his way over to the small counter. Seconds later, Kurt joined him, plucking a straw from the basket and watching as Blaine uncapped his own and reached for the cinnamon.

"Now how did I guess that?"

Blaine glanced up. "Hm?"

"The cinnamon," Kurt explained.

"Oh. I don't know," Blaine said, grabbing a stirrer and mixing it in. "Considering we don't really know much about each other..."

"Well, let's fix that," Kurt proposed, bumping his shoulder playfully as they walked toward the empty table in the very back corner of the shop. He pulled out his seat and slid into it, his eyes following Blaine as he did the same. "Tell me about yourself, Blaine Anderson, film major."

"Well, Kurt Hummel, theatre major, what do you want to know?" Blaine shot back coyly.

Kurt took a sip of his drink. "Well, where did you move from? Transfer student, right?"

Blaine nodded. "California."

"Did you like it there?"

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah. It was nice, I guess."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic," Kurt said, nudging Blaine's foot underneath the table. For a fleeting moment Blaine wondered if what they were doing classified as a date, but just as quickly he shook the thought out of his head. "Did you surf? Sun and the sand?"

Blaine laughed. "No. Just school. Film club," he said. "What about you? How's Ohio been?"

Kurt mocked a yawn. "It's been... well, it's been Ohio. I'm lucky to have McKinley around; I'm not sure if I could handle going to your average run-of-the-mill public school. I've got..." he paused, then corrected, "well, I've had friends around, but New York City is still out there. Broadway is my dream."

Blaine smiled. "So I would imagine."

"How about you?" Kurt asked, titling his head to the side. "What do you want to do? Something in film?"

Blaine hesitated. "I... Yeah, that would be nice," he said, "but to be honest, I don't have anything specific in mind yet."

Kurt reached forward and put a hand on Blaine's. His gaze immediately moved downward, staring at the contact in shock, until Kurt finally noticed and retracted his hand slowly.

He cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," Kurt said, attempting to sound nonchalant, "we're only sophomores. You have all the time in the world to figure out what you want to be."

With a nod, Blaine tried to hide his surprise at the tingling sensation left from Kurt's hand being on his own.

Thankfully, his beeping cellphone gave him a welcome distraction.

"Oh, that's my mom," he mumbled. "She wants me to come home and help with dinner. Apparently, my dad has some big-shot client coming over to talk business." Blaine stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and downing the rest of his coffee.

Kurt pouted. "Oh. Well, can we do this again sometime?"

"Yep," Blaine answered, slowly pushing his chair in. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Looking forward to it."

"Good to see you, Bryan!"

"You too, George."

Blaine stood awkwardly to the side as his dad and his business partner shook hands. His dad gestured toward him and said, "Here, Blaine will show you to the kitchen. Laura's made us a fantastic dinner. I'll go grab my client files."

Bryan nodded and turned to Blaine. He eyed him almost critically, but nodded his approval and said, "Looking sharp there, Blaine. After you."

With a short quirk of his lip that was intended to be a smile, Blaine took the lead and led Bryan through the short hallway, past the foyer, and into the dining room, where his mother had just finished placing the last dish. "I hope you like lasagna. George said you had a thing for Italian food."

"I do," he said. "And this dinner looks lovely, Mrs. Anderson."

"Please, call me Laura."

The three of them took their seats and patiently waited for Blaine's father to return from his office. Blaine put his hand over the phone in his pocket, wondering if it would go unnoticed to send a quick text to Kurt before dinner started.

The universe had other ideas.

"Sorry about the wait, my files were a little unorganized," his dad apologized, taking his seat next to his wife. "That's what a busy work schedule can do to you."

"It's no problem, dear," Laura assured. "So, shall we say a prayer?"

Blaine internally sighed as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, only half-listening as his father thanked God for their blessings and food (which, Blaine would add, the coleslaw was courtesy of him, and not some higher deity up above).

The first few minutes of the supper passed in silence, with the occasional comment, "This is delicious," and, "You made this, Blaine? Best coleslaw I've ever eaten," added with a joke about how he could possibly manage to cook such a delicious thing between football practice and wooing the ladies.

"But seriously, Blaine," Bryan said a second later, "no girlfriend yet?"

Blaine shook his head. "No."

"Well," his mother cut in, "he did have a short relationship with a cute girl named Tina. She looked like a total sweetheart, but Blaine never introduced me..."

"I'd really like to say it's a shame, but I'm not quite sure I can."

"Why's that, Bryan?"

"Well, I've got a daughter, you know that. She attends Crawford County Day over in Westerville. Real pretty thing, blue eyes, blonde hair. Looks just like my wife."

Blaine's mom nudged him playfully.

"There's actually a school dance coming up, if you're interested, Blaine."

Blaine was quiet.

"Blaine, what do you say?" his mother prompted.

Blaine hesitated before saying, "I don't know. I'm really busy with school and stuff and-"

"Don't worry 'bout it, son. I'm sure she can wait to meet the ever polite and handsome Blaine Anderson. Maybe you could take her to the staff Christmas party."

Blaine's mother nodded. "I'm sure he would love to meet your little girl, huh Blaine?"

"Right."

Your little girl.

A/N: I am ~so~ sorry! And I could come up with all the excuses in the world - some reasonable, some not - but when it boils down to it school = exhaustion. I am definitely going to try harder to get these to you from now on, but, I'm going to move updates to Sundays since it gives me time to outline plot during the school week (when I should be paying attention in Biology, but ssh) and then write on Fridays/Saturdays. And I might only get time to update every other week, but we'll see.

So... yeah. Thanks Caitlin, as always! Reviews appreciated (even if I don't deserve them)!