Title is a Dr. Horrible reference. Laundry room is based on the one in my old dorm, because I'm super original like that.
Blaine huffed as he carried his heavy laundry bag down the four flights of stairs to the laundry room in his dorm, cursing the fact that the elevator was creepy and unreliable for the millionth time.
At least it should be totally deserted in there since it's a Saturday morning at nine, he consoled himself as he hit the landing and rounded the corner. No one else will have to see your ratty old Dalton sweats and Warbler tee.
Or so he thought.
At first glance, the laundry room looked completely empty, but then Blaine noticed that there was a person leaning over a washer at the far end of the room.
Or, well, he noticed their ass. It was kind of hard not to, since the guy was wearing only a Speedo and a wifebeater. Blaine thought his jaw might literally hit the ground.
He stood frozen in the doorway for a moment before the other guy turned and looked his way.
"Oh, hi!" the guy said, smiling cheerfully at Blaine. "You need some quarters or something?"
"Uh, no, I'm good, thanks," Blaine said, a little taken aback at how forthright this guy was. I guess people really do lose their boundaries in college.
"I'm Kurt, by the way, I live on 2nd Martin. You?" Kurt asked. He started to extend a hand and walk over to Blaine for a shake before he stopped dead in his tracks and blushed a deep crimson. "I just remembered that I'm not really wearing any pants."
"No, no you're not," Blaine said, feeling his own cheeks heat up a little in response. "Oh, and I'm Blaine, I live on 5th Martin."
"Oh my God, this is not how I wanted my weekend to start," Kurt said, burying his face in his hands. "First I ran out of clean clothing, as you can tell, and now I'm making an ass out of myself in front of one of the only people I've seen on this campus who's not wearing a shirt with his frat's letters on it."
"Aren't frats so creepy?" Blaine asked sincerely, hoping to defuse some of the awkwardness. "I swear, I hear them talking about whatever parties they threw over the weekend and wonder if they're even speaking English underneath all the slang words they have."
"Right?" Kurt said, looking up at Blaine with sparkling eyes. "It's like they don't even go to the same school as us." He shivered a little as he finished his sentence.
"Hey, are you cold?" Blaine didn't know why he felt concern for this near-stranger, other than the fact that this was the first real conversation he'd had with anyone in weeks. Most of the kids in his classes didn't bother talking unless they had to pair up for an assignment, and then they only talked business. Since Blaine also had a single, he was feeling a little starved for company.
"It's like an icebox in my room, and then all the open windows down here aren't helping any," Kurt said, shivering again. "It doesn't help that I'm not really dressed for November, either."
"I've got hot cocoa and a clean sweatshirt up in my room," Blaine said, hoping he didn't sound too forward. "It's also like a million degrees in there, since hot air rises and all. We could watch a movie on my laptop or something while our clothes wash?"
"A sweatshirt but no pants?" Kurt asked wryly. "What kind of guy do you think I am?"
"I'd offer you pants, too, but these are literally the last pair I've got left," Blaine said, gesturing to his sweats. "And I didn't bring my bathing suit to school with me, so then things would get really weird."
"I just forget I'd tossed these in my underwear drawer until today," Kurt explained, motioning to his baby blue swimsuit. "And then they served as a stunning reminder that I really need to do laundry more often than once every three weeks or so."
"There's just so much to do," Blaine said, nodding in agreement. "My Intro to Theatre prof is some kind of sadist, he assigned three plays to read this weekend."
"Wait, do you have Drexler?" Kurt asked, looking stunned. When Blaine nodded again, he continued, "So do I! How have I never seen you in class before?"
"That lecture hall is huge, and I always have to sit in the back so I can sneak out and get to Calc on time," Blaine said. "I'm surprised Drexler can even see people raising their hands in the back sometimes."
"I'd like to take you up on that cocoa and sweatshirt, but do you think we can go over the plays together instead of watching a movie?" Kurt said, shifting slightly on his feet. "I always learn better if I can read plays out loud with someone. Keeps me from confusing all the dialogue in my head."
"Oh my God, that'd be great," Blaine said. "I'm the same way. Just lemme dump my stuff in a machine, and then we can head back up to my room – I've got a single, so we won't disturb anyone."
"We'll have to stop by my dorm so I can grab my scripts," Kurt said, stepping back to lean against the lone table in the room as Blaine fiddled with his washing machine. "You're so lucky to have a single – my roommate's practically nocturnal and such a light sleeper that I wake him up by rolling over too loudly sometimes. It's hell."
"That sounds awful," Blaine said, wincing sympathetically as he turned toward Kurt. "Maybe you'll have better luck next year?" He gestured for Kurt to head out, following him up the stairs and heroically not focusing on his butt the whole time.
"I can only hope," Kurt said. They passed the rest of the walk in easy conversation, pausing long enough when they got back to Blaine's room for him to start up his Keurig and find Kurt a sweatshirt. The plays ended up going ignored for most of the morning as they found out that they had more and more in common, not that Blaine minded. Making new friends was always a good thing in his book.
(Of course, it was even better when Kurt became his boyfriend a few months later, but Blaine didn't allow himself to imagine that possibility until it was already happening. College didn't make him smarter about everything, apparently.)
