{Walk That Mile}
"Oh, the truth I must tell is I'm lonely as hell
Still looking for myself"
- The Summer Set, Where Are You Now?
Blaine stopped midsentence and stared. It was just his luck to have to serve Kurt Hummel and what he would assume to be his boyfriend. Especially his luck to have to do it after last night's incident. He could literally see the wheels turning behind Kurt's eyes as he too tried to figure out what Fate had decided for them this time.
"Excuse me?" the other male snapped. "I'd like to order coffee now."
"Oh! Yes, right, sir," Blaine blinked and turned to face the tall, messy dark-haired male. "What would you like to have, then?"
"A Grande non-fat mocha for my boyfriend here," he said, protectively grabbing Kurt around his hips. "Do you want something more for the coffee, Kurt?"
"No," Blaine snorted. "He doesn't want anything with his coffee." Noticing Kurt's glare that practically screamed; 'shut up, Anderson', Blaine cleared his throat and looked over to Kurt.
"I mean, yeah, is there anything you want?" Blaine asked, a smirk tugging his lips.
"No," Kurt deadpanned.
"Right," Blaine said awkwardly and turned back to the other male. "And for you, sir?"
"Just a latte for me," he decided, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Blaine.
"Right away! You can just go ahead and sit down somewhere and I'll bring you the coffee."
The couple nodded and took a table and Blaine wasn't ashamed to admit he still liked Kurt's ass.
"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Puck's voice called from behind.
Blaine turned around and raised a brow. "What's wrong with you thinking something's wrong with me, dude?"
Shaking his head, Puck shrugged it off. "So a latte and a—what was it?"
"A Grande non-fat mocha," Blaine replied instantly. "And it must be non-fat. Absolutely no fat allowed!"
Puck made a face and shook his head again. "Dude, you're totally on to that guy."
Blaine spluttered unattractively. "No, I'm not! Why would your perverted mind come up with something like that?"
"You checked out his ass."
"Well, it's a great ass!" Blaine proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "It's really tight, OK?"
Hearing Kurt clearing his throat from afar, Blaine turned his face and saw the other glaring at him fiercely.
"Anyway, here's the coffee," said Puck, holding the cups to Blaine. "Good luck!"
Blaine made a face but accepted the coffee nevertheless. He moved over to the Kurt's table with a huge grin.
"Here you go, sirs!" He said, placing the m on the table. "The restrooms are over there," he said to Kurt's boyfriend, trying to get some alone-time with Kurt. "Right behind that corner over there," he continued with a fake smile.
"What?" The man frowned.
"Right over there, if you need it," Blaine insisted. "You should probably go there now."
"What for?"
"To relieve yourself from the completely normal bodily needs!" Blaine smiled. "Go, go!"
"I don't need to," the man insisted.
"Well then," Blaine said and turned to Kurt. "The restrooms are over there! You should totally go over there now, to check out yourself. I'd do it if I was you." He winked.
"I don't need to, Blaine," Kurt deadpanned.
"A-ha!" Blaine exclaimed, shooting a hand in the air. "You said my name!"
"You know this mentally deficient idiot?" Kurt's boyfriend asked.
"Not really," Kurt muttered when Blaine said "Totally!"
Kurt glared at Blaine.
"So where did you two meet?" The boyfriend asked.
"Nowhere," Kurt muttered grumpily when Blaine said "At the bar!"
"At the bar, Kurt?" His boyfriend turned to the fashionable-nice-ass-male. "Did anything happen, hmm?"
"No," said Kurt, when Blaine shrugged, "Yep!"
There was a moment of silence before the boyfriend cleared his throat. "So, why haven't you told me about—" he looked over at Blaine's name sign, "Blaine Anderson?"
"Because he's no one special, Jack!" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "Just someone from before your time."
Blaine started getting uncomfortable, so he turned around and called; "Did you shout my name, Puck?"
Puck looked at him as though he'd turned pink and shook his head.
"Are you playing with me?" Blaine asked, pointing a finger to him. "That's funny, Puck. You see me laughing?" He faked a laugh. "There it is. Yeah, so I better be going," he said to the couple. "See you around, Kurt!" He gave Jack a second glance. "Jack," he acknowledged him with a nod. Walking a way, he cleared his throat and muttered, "—ass." He chuckled to himself. "Good one, Blaine."
"What the fuck, Blaine?" Puck asked and threw him a cloth. "Never mind, I don't wanna know. Just clean the tables, will you?"
Blaine caught it with one hand and saluted with the other. "Yes, ma'am!"
Cleaning off the tables, Blaine had subconsciously moved closer to The Couple and overheard their conversation. How convenient.
"—it was nothing, Jack! It was before your time and I'm over it. It's not like I'm jealous about your exes!"
"He's an ex?" Jack snapped. "How nice of you for not mentioning it!"
I'm an ex?, Blaine thought and nodded to himself slowly as he cleaned a coffee spot. Not bad.
"Not exactly an ex," Kurt sighed, pulling a hand through his hair. "It's just a one night stand."
"But you had feelings for him?" Jack prompted, narrowing his eyes at Kurt.
"Might've had. A few. Tiny. Small. At that time," Kurt shrugged.
Blaine spun around and shouted "Score!" but meeting Puck's glare, he continued to clean off the table.
"So you don't like him anymore?" Jack questioned him.
"Er—no?" Kurt said. "I mean, he's cool and all, but I'm with you, aren't I?"
Blaine frowned. It definitely sounded like a lie to him. Did Kurt like him?
"Goddammit, Kurt!" Jack exclaimed, slamming the coffee on the table. "It's not like you don't like him. I can see it, 'cos I know you!"
"Well, it's not my fault you're disillusioned and your mind comes up with whatnot! Do you want me to like him?" Kurt snapped, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.
"Of course not! What I want is to have a relationship with someone who can appreciate me for what I am!"
Blaine snorted. Like someone would like that jackass.
"Well, at this moment I'm not sure I like you for trying to convince me that I like that guy!" Kurt snarled angrily. Blaine noticed a tinge of red on his cheeks and he had to admit Kurt looked hot like that.
"It's not my fault you're lying around like some kind of worthless piece of shit; like some kind of whore!"
Blaine slammed the cloth down on the table and walked up to Jackass. Pointing his index finger at the taller male's chest, he said; "We don't use that language in here, so get the fuck out!" His hand moved to point at the door. When Jackass didn't move, Blaine lowered his voice dangerously. "If you aren't outside this shop within five seconds, I will not be held responsible for my actions."
Kurt cleared his throat and placed a gentle hand on Blaine's arm, trying to calm him down. "Let it go, Blaine, I can handle it."
"Obviously you can't!" Blaine snapped, still not looking away from Jackass' eyes. "You let him push you down, and you may be able to handle it, but I can't!"
"Please, sir, you need to leave," Puck interrupted and pushed Blaine away from the man. "And Blaine, you need to not get violent."
"Lemme go, Puck!" Blaine whined, trying to squirm away from Puck's hold. "Lemme take care of him, goddammit!"
"No," Puck said stubbornly. "And sir, if you don't leave now we'll be forced to call the cops. We don't accept that kind of language inside of here."
"What Puck said!" Blaine agreed, but stopped squirming when Jackass grabbed his coat. "That's right! And I don't wanna see your face in here again!"
Kurt moved to Jackass, trying to ease his boyfriend. "I'm coming with you, Jack."
"No!" Jackass snarled, raising his hand almost as though to slap Kurt. "I don't—I—you stay here with your other boy that you obviously care about!"
"Jack, don't do this—"
"Why not?" Jackass muttered, grabbing the rest of his stuff and walked towards the door.
"'Cos we love each other, of course I'm coming with you," Kurt said and grabbed his own stuff. "We'll rent a movie or something, it's just Lunch time. We can have some take away and—"
"In your dreams, Hummel," Jackass snorted and went off before Kurt could even comprehend what just had happened.
The whole shop had stopped their conversations and stared at Kurt.
Clearing his throat, Blaine said; "Well, I was right about him being a jackass at least."
Kurt swirled around and put his finger against Blaine's chest. "You! You had no right to act like this," Kurt said angrily. "My relationship might be destroyed forever and it'll be your fault."
With that, Kurt grabbed his stuff and stormed off the shop before Blaine had a chance to come up with a reply.
Blaine stared after Kurt as though he was trying to figure out if the last few minutes had been real or if he was dreaming. But when Puck's hand grabbed his shoulder, he was brought back to reality, understanding that this was, in fact, very real.
"Smooth work, Anderson," Puck said. "Very smooth," he chuckled and walked away.
Blaine stared after Puck and down at the table and noticed his cloth was still lying there. He grabbed it and started to clean the surface again.
"Well," Blaine said as the conversations around him had started. "At least he's single now." He frowned slightly. "Or is he?"
{Walk That Mile}
Quinn was making lunch when Kurt came home. She was just about to put the lasagne in the oven when the door closed and a heavy breathing Kurt strode in the kitchen.
"There's lunch for you too!" Quinn announced merrily, closing the oven door. "Where've you been?"
"Out," came the reply.
"No shit," Quinn said, rolling her eyes as she set the timer. "With your lovely, absolutely perfect boyfriend, perhaps?"
Kurt only grunted in reply as he sat down at the dinner table. "Something like that."
Quinn frowned and turned around, only then noticing her friend's flushed cheeks. "Something wrong?"
"No," Kurt said.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"'Nothing', you say?" Quinn repeated, raising one of her eyebrows. "I've known you for ages, and I've come to learn that when you say 'nothing' it usually means 'something' and that 'something' is bad. Spill," she ordered and sat down opposite him.
"Sometimes 'nothing' means 'nothing', Quinn."
"Kurt," she warned. "Spill it. Now."
Said boy sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know that guy—"
"The hot one?"
He gave her a look, raising a brow.
"What?" she said, throwing her arms in the air. "He's hot! You can't deny that, lover-boy," she continued, giving him a meaning look.
"Anyway," he started again, making her muttering a 'sorry'. "This guy apparently works at Starbucks—"
"No way!" Quinn interrupted again.
"Quinn! Can I tell you the friggin' story or do you want me to leave?"
"Sorry!"
"So," Kurt once again started. "He works at Starbucks, which is where Jack and I were heading for lunch—"
"So you met him?"
Kurt slammed his arms at the table. "I'm leaving."
"No, Kurt! I'm sorry, OK?" Quinn apologised. "I'll be quiet, I promise!"
Kurt sat back down in the chair again, shooting her a menacing glare, but continued his story nevertheless. " So Anderson managed to imply that we know each other, and Jack thought I cheated on him –" Quinn made a strangled noise, but kept quiet for once, "— and we had a row," Kurt finished lamely.
I'm not surprised, Quinn thought, but asked; "Is that all?"
"Well," Kurt said, scratching the back of his neck. "Not really."
"Kurt," Quinn began, the warning tone back.
"We shouted abuse at each other," Kurt shrugged. "And Blaine got mad at something Jack said to me."
Quinn froze. "What was that?"
"Blaine got mad," Kurt repeated.
"Because?" Quinn prompted.
"Jack said something to me."
"And what, may I ask, was that?" Quinn narrowed her eyes.
"Nothing," Kurt responded vaguely, avoiding her eyes.
"For God's sake, Kurt! We've already been through this once today! I know your definition of 'nothing' is 'something', so spill it."
"Fine! Geez, Quinn, you're worse than my Dad!" Kurt muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "He called me a little something and if I'm going to tell you, you have to promise not to get mad."
Quinn smiled, leaning forward to give him attention. "Of course I promise."
"Jack called me – I don't really remember, frankly, but it was something about a lay-around and a whore."
Suddenly Quinn was boiling with anger. Her arms slammed the table as she stood up. "That's it. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to end him."
"No!" Kurt interrupted, standing up as well. "You—you promised not to get mad!"
"Well, a small white lie!" Quinn argued.
"Sit. Down," Kurt ordered, pointing at her chair. For once, Quinn obeyed him.
"So what did Blaine do?" Quinn queried. "Hit him? Knocked him out? Killed him?" It worried Kurt that Quinn sounded genuinely hopeful.
"None of the sort," Kurt sighed. "Well, he tried to, I guess. He was very threatening. But then this guy in a Mohawk interrupted – he also works there, apparently. But I don't know—I can't recall the name," Kurt frowned, leaning back in the chair as he tried to remember. "Duck? No, no one would name their kid duck," Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "Buck? Ruck?"
Dread and hope filled Quinn. "Puck?" she asked cautiously, trying to sound nonchalant enough for Kurt not to get suspicious.
"Yeah!" Kurt said, looking at her. "That's the name—but how did you know?"
Maybe because we might have had this intimate interaction with one another, Quinn thought before smiling at Kurt. "Lucky guess."
He eyed her suspiciously before continuing. "So this Puck guy comes up and stops Blaine from getting too violent, and I tried to follow Jack but all he said was—"
Quinn zoned out, not really listening. What was Puck doing here? He works at Starbucks? That's not really his style. I could go to Starbucks but—when? I could bring Kurt with me—wait, no. He can't know. Maybe Santana and Brittany—
"Quinn?" Kurt's voice woke her up from her daydreaming.
"Er—yeah?"
"Are you listening?"
"Well—er—no," she admitted lamely. At Kurt's sigh, she continued; "But keep going! I just zoned out, is all!"
"As I was saying," Kurt started, "I was about to follow Jack, but he told me off."
"Told you off?" Quinn repeated. "With what words exactly?"
"Basically just 'in your dreams, Hummel'," Kurt recited from his memory. "I'm sure he's just mad for the day. I'll just try to call him first thing tomorrow."
"Call him?" Quinn repeated, looking at him as though he'd grown a second head. "He called you a whore, he told you off, and you're still hanging after him like a lost puppy? Kurt, what's the matter with you? Don't you see how he bad he is for you?"
"Well, it's not like there's plenty of guys in my queue," Kurt muttered.
Quinn mentally slapped her forehead. "Well, there's this guy; he's dapper and protected you and he obviously means well—"
"Who?" The sad thing was that Kurt looked genuinely confused.
She sighed. "Are you really that clueless?
"What?
"Not gonna tell you," Quinn decided. "You're gonna figure it out that yourself in time."
"What aren't you telling me?"
Quinn didn't answer, and the timer disrupted their talk.
"Lunch's ready!" she announced and walked towards the oven.
"No, Quinn, what are you—"
"Do you want salad?"
Kurt sighed and leant back in his chair.
What does she mean?
{Walk That Mile}
Puck and Blaine had ordered pizza for a movie night. After work, Blaine had simply been too tired to go home, and Puck offered him to stay at his.
They were currently slouching on the couch, Blaine slowly eating a slice of the pizza while Puck looked through the various DVDs he had collected through the years.
"So what do we want to see? Action," he said, holding up the first Mission Impossible film with Tom Cruise for Blaine to see, but received no response. "No? OK, so what about Horror? Like the Saw," he continued, gesturing a saw with his arm and grinning. He faltered a little, when Blaine still picked the salami lazily on his slice. "Come on bro, you always laugh at that!" he exclaimed, obviously frustrated at the lack of response.
"Do you think- do you think that Kurt's mad at me?" Blaine asked softly, putting away the slice back on the plate.
Puck sighed.
Then pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Well, Blaine, I wouldn't know," he said after a moment, slowly as though to a little child. "Why don't you ask him?"
"How?" Blaine asked and hugged a pillow. "How on earth am I supposed to do that?"
"For startes you should, you know, ask the question to, I don't know, him?" Puck retorted sarcastically.
Blaine threw the pillow at him. "This is serious, Puck!" he exclaimed. "What if he's super mad? What if he'll never talk to me again?"
"Stop being such a whiner, Anderson," Puck snapped, throwing back the pillow. "Why don't you just check up his number or something?"
"Isn't that a bit stalker-ish?" Blaine hugged the pillow again. "I mean-"
"Since when do you worry about that?" Puck grabbed for a slice of pizza. "I mean, you're not one to care about-"
"But it's Kurt we're talking about!" Blaine said, as though it proved something important. "I can't just stalk him-"
"As if you haven't already," Puck muttered under his breath.
"Shut up!" Blaine snapped, grabbing his pillow as though to throw it on Puck again.
"Alright, alright!" Puck gave in, swallowing the rest of the slice and stood up. "I'm taking a shower," he announced. He pointed at his laptop, "There's my computer if you want to look up his number-"
"I'm not going to do it!" Blaine said stubbornly and grabbed his half-eaten slice. "I'm not, I'm not."
"Whatever you say, you little baby," Puck shrugged, walking away.
"I'm not going to do it, Puck!" Blaine called after him.
And then he stared at the computer.
"I'm not," he mumbled, trying to convince himself that it was a terrible idea.
But the computer was calling for him.
"I really need to say sorry though," he continued, eating his slice. "It's not bad if it's for a good intention, is it?"
He narrowed his eyes at the computer. "Fuck this," he said and literally threw himself off the couch towards the laptop.
"Just one text, just one little text," he muttered under his breath as he searched for Kurt Hummel. "It's for a good reason, nothing stalker-ish."
Kurt Richard Hummel, 52
"Not him," Blaine shouted at the computer. "It's not him!"
He scrolled down, past various Kurt Hummels, 10 years old to 76 and-
"Score!" he exclaimed, shooting a fist in the air as he found it.
Kurt Elias Hummel, 24
"Got'cha!" he said, pointing at the name. "Wait- where's my phone?"
He looked over the room, creating a mess on the search of his phone.
"What are you doing out there, Anderson?" Puck called from the bathroom.
"Nothing! - oh, there you are, my little darling," Blaine said softly, picking up the phone from his pocket.
He slouched down on the couch again as he opened a new message and typed in the number.
'Dear Kurt', Blaine began typing and tasted at the words. "Or should it be more formal? Hi Kurt? No, too awkward. Dear it is."
'You don't know me', he continued and stopped. "But he doesknow me," he said to himself, frowning.
'Well, you do know me, but we've never really texted before, so I doubt you know who I am from looking at the number but it's Blaine.'
"Good start, Blaine," he said proudly.
'I mean, I am Blaine', he continued. 'Not the number. Well, the number belongs to me but you get my point.'
'So here I am. In a text. Well, not really in the text, I'm on Puck's couch. You know Puck? The guy I'm working with. He's from Ohio, like me! Do you know where it is? It's a few hours from New York. It's pretty lame there.'
"The point, Blaine, come to the point," he berated himself.
'Right, so my point is that I wanted to say sorry. I mean, for putting you in that scene, because I can tell you were pretty embarrassed, and I'm sorry and I just wanted to tell you that.'
"Won't he think I'm a bit of a stalker though?" Blaine pondered to himself.
'I searched your number on the Internet so I could tell you I'm sorry, because I am. And I don't mean to appear as a stalker- it was actually Puck's idea - but it's with good intentions, so I hope you won't be too freaked out.'
"Sounds great, Blaine," he told himself, smiling at the text.
'So that's probably it. I don't know if this text is too long, or if you'll even read it. What if this is the wrong Kurt? I'm pretty sure I'm right though, if you're not like, 76 years old, which I doubt. I mean, you don't look old or anything. You look really young, which you probably are. You're like, one year older than me, and I'm young, so you must be young too, right?'
'OK, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. And I'm sorry if I'm bothering you right now. You're probably with that Jack-what's-he's-name.'
Blaine muttered a curse under his breath. He hatedthat Jack dude.
'Ass', he added in the text. 'Sorry. Well, not really about Jack but. Yeah. Sorry.'
He looked through the text a few times before he panicked. Should he send it now or later? Would he bother Kurt? He didn't want to create more problems in the male's life.
"Give me that," Puck's voice called from behind, causing Blaine to jump up in the air and dropping the phone.
Puck caught it. And sent the text.
"Puck! What have you done!"
"I sent the damn text," he said, shrugging while he read it. Then burst out laughing. "What have you done?"
A bewildered look crossed Blaine's face. "What was wrong with it?"
Puck smirked. "I think it was really good actually."
"Really?"
"No," Puck snorted. He threw the phone over to Blaine who caught it with ease. "Too awkward. Seriously Blaine, you told about me? About Ohio? If anything, you should've waited for me."
Blaine groaned and hid his face behind a hand. "I need a cigarette."
{Walk That Mile}
'My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for his creature: of whom I had made an idol.'
Kurt sighed. There was the mention of God again. Ugh. But overall, the book was amazing. Certainly one of the best books in the history, no doubt—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
His eyes travelled from the page in the book to his phone on the table. He almost hoped it was Jack trying to make amends, though he would have rather preferred that he would have called at least.
He picked up the phone with a sigh, and opened the text message. The first thing he noticed was the actual length of the text, and then the fact he didn't have the number saved.
Huh.
"Who's texting you?" Quinn's voice interrupted his thoughts. Kurt jumped a little, having forgotten she was in the room too.
"I'm not sure yet," Kurt frowned. "I haven't the number saved—"
"Give me that!" Quinn demanded with a huff, taking Kurt's phone from him.
"No! Quinn, give it back!"
"'Dear Kurt'," she read out loud and giggled. "Seriously? He's for real?"
"Give my phone back," Kurt shouted at her, but his shouts went ignored.
"'You don't know me. Well, you do know me, but we've never really texted before so I doubt you know who I am from looking at the number but it's Blaine'. Seriously, he's this awkward when you met him?"
"I dunno, Quinn! Maybe! We've only met once or twice—give me my phone back!"
He snatched the phone from Quinn's hand and read the text message quietly to himself. Quinn watched his face morph into confusion and by the end, he looked up at her.
"I don't understand."
"Lemme see," Quinn said and reached for the phone, which he gave to her freely this time. "Oh my God—" she choked after having read it. "Oh my God, he's not real, is he?"
"What—"
"'If you're not like, 76 years old' – oh God, oh God, oh God, I'm crying," she hyperventilated, tears leaking from her eyes as she laughed.
"I still don't understand," Kurt interrupted her minor attack. "Why would he even send that text? And what's so funny with it?"
"To your first question, Kurt, he's stated like dozens of times that he's sorry, so I'm guessing that he wanted to say he's sorry," Quinn deadpanned. "And for your later question; have you actually read it?"
"I have, but I—"
"Read it again and try not to laugh," Quinn said, giving his phone back.
Kurt obliged with a frown, but was soon laughing as well.
"OK, I can see the laugh in it," Kurt smiled.
"So, are you going to text back?" Quinn asked.
"What? I—I dunno, I haven't really thought about it—"
"Oh, that's alright," Quinn gave in suspiciously easy. "Here, let me read that text again, I could use a good laugh—"
"Er—sure?" Kurt handed his phone over and grabbed Jane Eyre again.
"I'm just going to the bathroom, alright?"
Without waiting for response, she sneaked out of the kitchen to the bathroom and typed back a reply.
'Blaine', she typed down, an evil grin tugging her lips. 'Of course I forgive you, because there isn't really much to forgive. I'm convinced you have my best interests into heart and was thinking you were looking out for me. On other hand, I owe you one. I mean, Jack was quite the—'
What was he? Quinn wondered, trying to figure out the best adjective.
'Ass.'
That was the one, she nodded.
'Don't worry about being a stalker. You aren't. Much. You're nice enough though. And funny. So how about a coffee later? Or yeah. Tomorrow? Talk things out? I know you and I have a history—'
Because no matter what, Kurt wouldn't ever be able to convince her that his impromptu night together with Blaine hadn't mattered.
'—so a bit of talking seems in order, don't you think?'
"Quinn, do you still have my phone?"
Shit, Quinn thought and quickened her typing.
'So I think that is all. Seems like we're writing novels to each other? Love, Kurt.'
"Quinn?"
"Er—yeah?"
"What are you doing in there?" Kurt asked and Quinn could literally hear his voice dripping with suspicion.
Busted.
"Er—what do you think I'm doing in the bathroom, Kurt?" she countered, trying to sound annoyed.
"With my phone?" Kurt shot back.
Oops.
"Well," Quinn said, opening the door slowly. "I might have done something you will hate me for. At least for five minutes." Or days.
Kurt's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Did you send a text to Blaine?"
The blonde girl grinned and scratched her neck. "Maybe?"
"Quinn!"
{Walk That Mile}
Blaine was literally a glass case of emotions. He simply could not sit still. His phone almost burned a hole in his pocket and he went to check it every other second.
The diffidence of whether or not he should have sent the text—or rather— whether or not he should've looked up Kurt's number and started to write it. He wasn't sure if it had been the right thing to do, but one should always apologise, isn't that the saying?
So there he was, pacing Puck's flat, trying to figure out whether or not life was worth living. He was pretty sure he had made a fool out of himself. Which apparently had been happening far more often lately than before he—
Well, before that night he met Kurt again.
"Can you stop pacing, Anderson, some of us want peace and quiet. Keep your gay worries elsewhere," Puck drawled as he stared almost blankly at the TV screen.
"Puck!" Blaine turned around and stared at his friend. "I've got a huge problem here!"
"I don't care," Puck shrugged. "I helped you through the first part. You better learn how to take care of yourself."
"Helped me?" Blaine repeated, his cheeks turning furiously red. "Helped me? Is that what you call it nowadays?" He held up his phone in the air. "This is a disaster!"
His phone buzzed.
Blaine dropped his phone.
Blaine starred at his phone, with the screen turned up and he saw Kurt's name on it before it blacked out.
Because Blaine had saved Kurt's number. For future reference, of course.
"He replied?" Blaine whispered and looked at Puck in amazement. "He—Puck! He replied!"
"See," Puck said, looking satisfied. "What did I tell you?"
"You told me nothing," Blaine shot back under his breath. "Alright, what should I do?"
"I think you should start with shutting up and proceed to read it."
"Stop being cranky," Blaine whined but picked up his phone. "What if he says that—"
"Shut up was the first step, Anderson," Puck interrupted.
"—he won't forgive me, or—"
"Shut up."
"—and never wants to—"
"Anderson!" Puck interjected and sat up on the couch, glaring at Blaine's face. "If you don't shut up, I'll kick your butt and shove you out of my flat."
Blaine closed his mouth.
"Good," Puck said, looking satisfied again. "I'm sure Kurt won't do nothing of the sort. Just read the text and get it over with."
The curly haired boy nodded and opened the text. He stared at it after having read it and then looked up at Puck.
"Puck?" he said quietly, still unsure how truthful Puck's threats were.
The other male grunted in reply.
"Kurt said he wanted to meet me up for coffee tomorrow—"
His phone buzzed again with a new text from Kurt.
He clicked it up and read it.
'Sorry, that was Quinn's writing,' it read.
Blaine's face fell.
"What did it say?" Puck asked, noticing the instant change of mood.
"I—he said it was some girl writing in his stand," Blaine mumbled quietly. "I should—I'll just— I'll be in the bathroom."
"Blaine—" Puck sighed but Blaine had disappeared already.
Love, Kurt, hadn't meant anything. Blaine kicked the toilet angrily and hurt his foot in the process.
"Fuck, that hurts!" he growled and grabbed his foot with his hand, jumping around on one foot until he lost his balance and fell down on his butt.
"Why," he asked monotonously to no one.
He was interrupted, almost as a merciful answer from the Lord above, when his phone buzzed again and Kurt's name appeared on the screen.
A part of him wanted to throw the phone against the wall, but he knew that with his luck, it'd just bounce back and hit him in the face.
He sighed and lay down on his stomach and anxiously opened the message.
'I wouldn't mind having a coffee with you sometime, though,' the text read.
Blaine stared at it, silently mouthing the words on his screen before he lit up like a child on Christmas.
'I'd love that! :),' he typed back. 'When?' he continued, feeling his mood rising despite the ache in his foot.
'The day after tomorrow?' Kurt replied and Blaine's mood fell a bit.
'Okay?' he reluctantly agreed. 'Not tomorrow?'
'Don't you have work tomorrow?' Kurt asked and Blaine could see him raising a brow.
Damn work, he thought and bit his lip.
'Riiiight,' he answered. 'But you could come to my job? Free coffee and all. My treat :)'
This time it took a bit longer for Kurt's reply, and Blaine squirmed anxiously. What if Kurt just didn't want to see him so soon?
But then his phone buzzed again and Blaine felt he could almost get used to it.
'I guess that'd be amenable,' Kurt replied. 'I'm looking forward to it! :)'
A happy smiley.
Kurt sent Blaine a happy smiley.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Blaine yelled over his shoulder, rolling onto his knees. "PUCK!"
"If you lit my toilet on fire— not going to ask you how you'd manage that—you'll be paying for it!" came the reply.
{Walk That Mile}
[A/N} Hello again. It's been a while, and we both sincerely apologise for the the horribly long delay. The badboy!Blaine has now become a dorkyboy!Blaine, but keep in mind he's like this when it's about Kurt. We plan on keeping him slightly more dirty in the eventual progress of the story. :) - Sora & Elin.
