a/n: I have no idea if corsets were featured in the Vogue issue mentioned below.

Chapter Two-

Blaine Anderson first met Kurt Hummel in a little coffee shop called The Lima Bean. It was the weekend and the place was crowded. He almost gave up ever finding a place to sit until he saw an empty seat across from a rather pale looking guy his own age.

He managed to shoulder his way to the small table and, shifting his school nervously on his shoulder, said, "Hi. Mind if I sit?"

The boy nearly choked on his coffee at the sound of Blaine's voice, but finally he nodded and gestured at the empty seat. "Be my guest," he said a little breathlessly.

Blaine dropped his bag beside the chair as he sat. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt."

They shook hands, Blaine taking note of the softness of the other boy's skin. Kurt still had a gobsmacked look on his face, as if he were shocked to see someone sitting with him. Maybe he was, Blaine thought, remembering his own days of being an outcast before Dalton Academy.

"So, who do you think's going to win the game?" Blaine asked.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not really into sports."

"Oh. Well, I'm a Buckeyes fan myself." He faltered at the glazed look that came over Kurt's face. "Right. Not a football fan. Sorry. So." He took a sip of his coffee. "What do you like?"

It was a stupid question, he knew, but the boy across from him didn't seem to mind the lame conversation starter. He even blushed a bit before he started, though he hesitated getting the first words out, like he thought he was the one being an idiot.

Blaine would have reached out to take his hand-just as a reassuring gesture, mind you-but he didn't want to come on too strong.

"I sing in the school's Glee Club." Kurt gave a short laugh. "I know, kind of lame, but my voice is what's getting me out of Lima, so..."

Blaine smiled at him. "I sing, too. I'm one of the Warblers at Dalton Academy." He had no idea what caused him to blurt out, "I'm their lead soloist, actually."

Kurt's eyebrow rose. "Oh, the star of the show, then. How impressive."

A warmth flooded Blaine's body, causing him to look away. He had to clear his throat before turning back to the other boy. There was a moment of silence as Kurt eyed him curiously. His hands fiddled with the magazine in front of him. Blaine caught sight of the title and leapt at the conversation starter this provided.

"I love Vogue," he said, leaning forward as if making a confession.

Kurt smiled and tipped his chin upwards. "I have every issue of the past five years catalogued at home. I even managed to snag a copy of Kate Moss's March 1993 cover off eBay."

"An excellent choice," Blaine said. "Wasn't there a spread on corsets in that issue? I'm pretty sure I remember a black one with these really long red ribbons..."

Kurt clasped his hands together, almost hopping in his seat in sudden excitement. "Yes! The Belle Rose. It gave the model a sixteen inch waist. Not to mention, was an absolutely stunning piece of work."

"Was it really sixteen?" Blaine winced as he thought back on that poor model's unnaturally tiny midsection. "That sounds painful."

"Please. You haven't felt painful until you've walked around in custom made Lady Gaga pumps."

Blaine chuckled and opened his mouth to answer but a heavy body smack against their table. Blaine managed to grab his coffee before it spilt but Kurt's toppled over and started to sink into the pages of his magazine before he could stop it.

"Hey, lady," a black guy in a football jersey sung out. "Know what day it is?"

The other jocks clustered around him laughed unpleasantly. Kurt merely stared at them, his lips pressed tight together. His eyes flickered towards one of the guys hovering near the back. He was the only one not laughing. Once he caught Kurt's eyes on him, he quickly looked away and shifted uncomfortably.

Blaine wanted to step up and say something, he really did, but he just...couldn't. It was like middle school all over again. Even the laughter sounded the same. He just sat there, useless, while Kurt's main bully started making cruel comments about his lovely outfit. Really, that bowtie was just adorable.

This might have gone on forever if a loud, strident voice hadn't called from across the room, "Oh, no, you aren't. What is wrong with you guys?"

A big girl in a Lima Bean apron hurried towards the table, anger clouding her dark features. Blaine let out a soft sigh of relief and felt ashamed of himself for it.

"Azimio, lay off my boy."

The jerk-Azimio, Blaine presumed-smirked. "What are you going to do about it, Aretha? Pour me a coffee?"

There was another round of chuckling and macho posture. Aretha folded her arms imperiously.

"I'll call Coach Sylvester."

At the mere mention of the name, the group froze.

"That's cold," Azimio said, shaking his head. He pushed against the table once more. It screeched as it moved.

"Thanks, Mercedes," Kurt said. He suddenly straightened and eyed the girl's outfit. "Why didn't you tell me you were working here?"

Mercedes (or was it Aretha?) bent down to pat Kurt on the shoulder and peck his cheek. "I have my eye on a new hat down at the mall."

Kurt's eyes lit up. "Ooh, do tell." He still seemed a little shaken but Mercedes didn't seem to notice, just started talking about some pink baseball cap that Kurt shuddered over.

Blaine watched them for another minute or two before finally standing up to say, "I should probably go."

Kurt reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. That was horribly rude of me. Mercedes, this is Blaine. He likes Vogue."

When Mercedes turned to look at him, Blaine had to resist the urge to squirm. Her eyes raked over him in judgment.

"Mercedes," Kurt prompted.

She shook herself of whatever plagued her and smiled. "Sorry. Nice to meet you."

Her hand gripped Blaine's tightly when they shook. He just managed to keep the wince off his face, shaking his hand loosely under the table to get the blood flowing again.

"...go," Kurt was saying with a sigh. "I have so much homework to finish."

Why would he have homework in July? Did he go to summer school?

Blaine stood. "I'll walk you to the door."

The damage to the magazine wasn't too bad. The edges were damp and Kurt had to wrap the whole thing in a towel Mercedes took from behind the counter, just so none of the other papers in Kurt's messenger bag wouldn't get wet. Blaine waited patiently for him to finish.

"I have a friend coming to pick me up," Kurt said when they stopped at the door.

"Oh." Blaine's heart sank.

"He's like a brother," Kurt hastened to add. "His mom is dating my dad. I think they're going to get married soon."

"That's great! Er, I mean, for your dad. It must be nice to have someone to love like that."

Kurt's breath caught, and he looked away, worrying at his bottom lip. That strange silence settled over them once more.

Blaine chuckled, opened his mouth to speak, and was once again interrupted, this time by a really tall guy across the street waving a McDonald's bag in the air as he called Kurt's name.

"Ugh." Kurt's upper lip curled. "That is just a heart attack waiting to happen."

"Your brother?"

"Finn. I-I should go. Don't want to keep him waiting."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you, Kurt."

"Likewise."

Kurt's hand was soft in Blaine's hand, the tip of his fingers brushing against Blaine's wrist.

Blaine swallowed. "You want to meet up for coffee tomorrow?"

A tentative date was set up, and then Kurt was striding off across the road. He turned once to look back, then hurried to that Finn guy, who slapped him on the back. They started off down the street together.

Blaine watched them until they disappeared around a corner. He turned around, intending to go back inside to get a biscotti, but Mercedes was staring at him through the glass. She pointed at him, to her eyes, then back to him.

The message was clear. I'm watching you.

Blaine gulped. Maybe he didn't want that biscotti, after all.