Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and it's not my fault Ryan Murphy is a copycat. I had this scene planned out way before "A Katy or a Gaga" aired in my country, so he obviously ripped me of my ideas. Obviously.
"You held me down, but I got up. Get ready cause I've had enough. I see it all, I see it now!"
Blaine is so lost in singing and dancing between the aisles, he doesn't realize one of the regular customers arrive. His singing even drowns out the usual sound of the cowbell. He's taken off his shoes, and is sliding on the floor in his socks, trying to repeat some of the dance steps they did in class earlier.
"I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire!"
Blaine almost falls on his ass when another voice chimes in with his. Dumbstruck, he spins around towards where the sound comes from, and sees Kurt.
"'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar!" the most gorgeous customer in New York sings, and flexes his biceps triumphantly, smiling playfully at Blaine.
Blaine manages to gather his wits, and joins him on the rest of the chorus, harmonising to Kurt's crystal clear, impressive voice.
"Louder, louder than a lion. 'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar!"
Feeling uncharacteristically bold, probably channelling his inner Katy Perry, he moves closer to Kurt, as they continue to sing. He hesitates a second, wondering just how many unwritten cashier-customer-interaction rules he's breaking, but bites the bullet and steps into Kurt's personal space as he rests his right hand on the taller boy's waist and brings him into a dance.
Kurt smirks at him through the oh-oh-oh's, does the cutest and sexiest shimmy with his shoulders Blaine's ever seen, before he makes Blaine's heart stutter when he rests his right hand on Blaine's shoulder, fingers almost tickling at the nape of Blaine's gelled curls. He wraps his own arm more securely, resting his hand on Kurt's lower back and pulling him somewhat closer. They continue to sing together, with their hips aligned, dancing in a manner that is more often seen in a nightclub than in a grocery store, and it is Blaine's single most erotic experience in life. Sebastian can't hold a candle to Kurt, ever.
Kurt's eyes twinkle, and the beat of the song is pulsing through them. Kurt makes scary claw-fingers and roar, while Blaine thumps his chest repeatedly with his fists. They giggle, before picking up the song again. And the dancing. Kurt gently takes his hand, and with what has to be practiced ease twirls Blaine out and away, before spinning him back flush against his body.
Miss Perry has probably never ever performed this song with the chorus repeated this many times, but Blaine really doesn't mind. He's just grateful they aren't interrupted by any customers or any other trivial incidents.
"That was fun," Kurt eventually giggles, and reclaims his personal space.
Blaine blushes, and scratches his neck awkwardly. It's a nervous tick he doesn't seem able to get rid of.
"It was," he agrees, thinking about polar bears and ice cubes to force his body to calm the fuck down, both his face and below the belt.
"Any particular reason for this impromptu dance party?" Kurt teases, and how can he look so unaffected and put together, when Blaine feels dishevelled and frayed?
"Isn't life itself reason enough to celebrate the genius that is Katy Perry?" Blaine smiles, frantically telling himself to tune down the flirting, because hey, customer and not appropriate, and he probably still has a boyfriend, remember?
"Hmm," Kurt hums, walking down the aisle with baking equipment. Blaine follows him like a stray, hungry puppy. "But if we eat cake every day, it eventually won't taste as delicious anymore," he says, shaking a box of colourful sprinkles.
"That was deep," Blaine gives him a half-smile.
"Yeah," Kurt sighs. "Thanksgiving is one of those occasions that make me… Contemplative, philosophical, existential."
"And what deep, earth shattering, life changing thoughts have you conjured lately?"
"That I hate being sexiled from my apartment by my roommate and my brother," Kurt smirks.
"Ouch," Blaine grimaces. He takes it as the dismissal it is. It really isn't his business to poke into Kurt's brain. He's just being… a trapeze artist, trying to balance everything he's feeling with the things he can actually allow himself to be feeling when it comes to Kurt.
"I'm sorry for being weird," Kurt groans. "I didn't know where to go when I came home and heard them, but I should probably spare you for Oh Little Sentimental Me."
"Don't be silly," Blaine smiles, and leads Kurt with a gentle hand on his lower back over to the counter. "Let me get us some of that bitter, foul coffee, and you can stay here for as long as you want. Until they have lit their cigars, or have passed out from round two, or whatever you deem an appropriate time of return."
The sound of Kurt's laughter follows Blaine through the curtain that separates the backroom from the rest of the store. The kettle is still hot, so he pours them two mugs of the low-quality brew.
"I take it you're celebrating Thanksgiving in New York," Blaine comments, hoping it is neutral enough territory. Kurt perks up at his remark.
"Yes, but still with my family," he smiles. "My dad and step-mother fly in tomorrow, and my step-brother – who is dating my roommate – came this afternoon. And her parents came earlier today, so it'll be an almost perfect celebration with everyone I love. My other roommate and the girlfriend went home, but I don't think we can fit any more people in our apartment for the dinner anyway, so it's for the better," he smiles, and the tone of his voice betrays that he's obviously joking.
"If you live like most students, I think it's brave to host a dinner for…" Blaine does a quick counting in his head, "seven?" Kurt nods. "Seven people; that requires quite the dining table, not to mention kitchen."
"I know," Kurt groans. "It could be a nightmare, but fortunately I've been able to achieve complete dictatorship of the kitchen, so we should avoid too much chaos."
"You cook?"
"I do, and I love it. I think this might be the most ambitious thing I've ever planned, though. But my roommate is a useless chef on a vegan diet who shouldn't be allowed to prepare any other dishes than washed fruit," Kurt rolls his eyes, and Blaine just knows there are some amusing stories behind that statement. "Okay, she makes decent cookies, but again, cookies wouldn't taste as good if we ate them each day," Kurt smiles ruefully.
"True," Blaine laughs. He can't help but be affected by Kurt's energy and passion.
"So how about you? I take it you're not going home to Ohio for Thanksgiving either?"
"No," Blaine adamantly shakes his head. "My brother is coming on Saturday to visit for a couple of days, and that's really all the family I need to see."
"I'm sorry," Kurt murmurs.
"You haven't done anything wrong," Blaine objects, and takes a sip of his coffee.
"I'm yapping about my big family party and all the delicious, traditional food I'm in the process of making, but I don't even consider the idea that you won't be celebrating Thanksgiving."
"That's okay, Kurt," Blaine smiles reassuringly. "I'm not offended. You couldn't know, and it's a good thing you get to spend the holiday with your family, when it means so much to you. And I'm perfectly happy with staying in New York. Anyway, I'm working tomorrow, so it's not as if I'll sit tragically alone in my apartment and devour a single portion microwave dinner."
"I don't know which option sounds worst." Kurt seems to mull one against the other, and he scrunches his nose in distaste.
"Someone has to keep the wheels of society rolling," Blaine shrugs. He really doesn't mind. If he did, he would have made sure to ask Mr. Parker for a few days off at an earlier time, and not ask in the 12th hour as if he didn't know how difficult that would be.
"Promise me one thing?"
"Sure." Blaine can't think of a single plausible thing he wouldn't do if Kurt told him to.
"This is the second holiday you're working in the short time I've known you. Promise me you'll do something fun for Christmas?"
"I promise. You don't need to worry about me, but it's nice of you to care, though." It is. It makes Blaine's stomach all jittery and warm, and he can feel his heart beating.
"Of course I care. We're friends, right?"
"Of course we are."
"Then I'm entitled to worry. You don't know me all that well yet, but you should know that I can be quite an unfiltered and straightforward bitch sometimes, but it comes from a place of care," Kurt winks.
"Bring it," Blaine growls playfully, and Kurt laughs thrillingly. "So, in the spirit of this newly established care; how did it go with that guy? You seemed upset when we talked on Sunday."
"Oh, that…"
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have snooped," Blaine apologizes frantically, regretting his direct and personal question.
"It's okay, I can talk about it," Kurt waves him off, and smiles briefly. "It just... It still hurts, you know. Which you probably are bright enough to interpret as to me now being single."
Blaine tries to fold his face in a caring, compassionate expression, and steps on his own toes to prevent himself from doing a jig of happiness.
"He isn't what I want in a boyfriend, and I had to realize that I couldn't change him, nor change my dreams and expectations. It wouldn't be right to either of us, if it was possible at all. I don't think a healthy relationship is built on too many compromises and pretending. There has to be some common ground, you know?"
"Oh, I know what you mean. Remember I told you about my high school boyfriend? It was doomed from the start, because we knew very well that we wanted opposite things. It was nice to have a boyfriend, and he was an available option. I think we both reasoned like that. It didn't even really hurt when we decided to split after graduation. It was never right, so it was almost a relief that he went to France. We didn't have to consider continuing the relationship, if I can even call it that."
Kurt hums and smiles ruefully.
"This breakup actually hurt. It's never fun to be the one to announce something isn't working. But what really got to me, was mourning the loss of a dream. I am sadder about letting the hope of a good boyfriend go, than the actual boyfriend. If I can even call him that," he rolls his eyes.
"Aww, don't sound so bitter," Blaine teases. "You still have a few good years ahead of you, you can still find someone."
"Add a 'love has no age limit', and you'll start sounding like my dad."
"Your dad sounds like a wise man."
Kurt's entire body softens, and his eyes seem to be alight.
"He is. He really is."
"Is he the one that taught you to dance? Don't think I didn't notice a few classic waltz-step back there," Blaine winks, trying to ease the mood after the heavy conversation topics.
"My dad teaching me to dance?" Kurt snorts. "I had to give him lessons before his second wedding, thank you very much. No, that was all Glee."
Blaine nods. They've briefly mentioned their Glee-pasts before.
"I didn't know you could sing and dance that well, though. You'll have to sing more for me some time. And I'm seriously envious of those dance skills, if you learned to waltz in Glee. All we did in the Warblers were basically silly sidestepping."
"We didn't exactly waltz on stage during competition," Kurt smirks. "But our teacher gave us the most arbitrary and random week assignments. And we had some crazy talented dancers in Glee, and when we hung out in the weekends, we'd teach each other our specialities. We were quite the eclectic gathering of people," Kurt reveals as if he's telling Blaine a secret of national stature. Blaine grins, and leans on his hand, elbow prodded to the counter.
"Tell me more," he murmurs. Kurt huffs, but easily relents.
"So, I learned to waltz, to pick a lock, some basic guitar riffs, and the difference between American and European football."
"Soccer," Blaine nods, and Kurt looks unimpressed at him.
"Whatever," he waves.
"And what did you teach your friends?"
"To make a soufflé, how to pluck your eyebrows symmetrically, and personalized appropriate colour schemes for their wardrobes. Makeovers are like crack to me," Kurt grins, and Blaine laughs.
"Despite everything," Blaine rushes out, "it sounds as if you had some amazing friends in high school."
"I did. But I'm still relieved to finally be here."
"I wish we'd met in high school. I could have needed a friend like you," Blaine admits.
"Me too. Someone who understands. But you're not getting rid of me now, I'm here to stay," Kurt laughs.
"Yes," Blaine shouts triumphantly, Kurt's indirect promise of forever doing something to him. "That you are, on the night before Thanksgiving, at…" he pauses to check his antique pocket watch, "17 minutes past midnight you are here."
"And with that, I'm leaving you. I have a long day of cooking for my mix of extended family ahead of me. If they are still at it back home, I'll pull the 'heartbroken, recently had to dump my boyfriend'-card to get some sympathy sleep."
"You're wicked," Blaine laughs.
Kurt smiles so his eyes crinkle to narrow slits.
"I am," he raises an eyebrow challengingly. "Think you can handle it?"
God, Blaine is so lost to him.
Lyrics from:
Katy Perry - Roar