A/N: Another one-shot for the prompt 'blind date'. Kurt gets unintentionally thrown into the world of Internet dating.
Kurt stares at his cell phone, re-reading the last text he received, and then checks across the street at the brightly lit restaurant that's teeming with activity. Music bumps so loudly from the outdoor speakers that he can clearly understand every word from where he stands. People wait in a massive line outside to get in; a line that gets longer by the minute. He blows out an anxious breath, bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep from freezing to death. First impressions are crucial, and Kurt Hummel does not appreciate tardiness. He almost considers calling it quits altogether. Blind dates definitely aren't Kurt's thing, but Rachel had taken it upon herself to make him a profile on some trendy Internet dating site called (quite originally) .
It's apparently a kitschy new take on boring old match 'em up sites. You make your profile, which includes filling out some horrendous survey with over a hundred questions on it; everything from your favorite color to your opinion on the actions of the U.S. troops overseas (which explained Rachel's bizarre random question assault of the past week). The site finds someone you're compatible with (minimum requirements being 85% suitability based on your answers to the survey) and then they set you up. They advertise that their system guarantees you a 'one in a million true love match'. The kitschy part? You don't get to know your potential love match's name or see a picture. You get a third party phone number you send text messages to, and communicate that way.
According to the profile Rachel set up, Kurt's date for the night matches him 92%. The idea of meeting his possible Doppelganger both intrigues and terrifies him.
To Kurt it sounds more like an invitation to sexual assault, but he hasn't had a date in over six months, and despite everything he does to take his mind off his dwindling social life, he is feeling kind of lonely. He's not really looking for a relationship; hell, he's not even all that interested in sex right now. He just wants someone (other than Bruce) to cuddle with, to watch a movie with; someone to talk to who isn't Rachel or Mercedes, regardless of how much he loves them. Still, Internet dating seems so desperate…and dangerous, but Rachel assures him repeatedly that this company has a proven track record of thoroughly pre-screening potential clients, and to date, there have been no reported rapes or deaths (that last part, he's sure, is a failed Rachel Berry attempt at humor, but nevertheless reassuring).
Kurt sticks his hands in the pockets of his coat, gripping his cell phone like a lifeline in his left fist. Times Square is really hopping tonight. His eyes wander the sea of people, mostly couples, racing by to get to a club, a restaurant, a movie theater. He and his mystery man are meeting at the Hard Rock Café, the restaurant Kurt's been watching that's currently blaring Every Breath You Take by The Police. Kurt got there early and set up surveillance from the corner across the street. He watches the people waiting in line, figuring that if he sees someone who looks even remotely like a potential rapist or murderer, he'll run for his life, but his mystery date is already ten minutes late.
That, to Kurt, is a mortal sin.
His phone vibrates in his fist and he immediately pulls it out, fumbling the screen lock with cold and eager fingers to read the new message.
"I'm here."
Kurt can feel excitement take over, overshadowing better judgment as he sends a text back.
"So am I."
Barely a second after he hits send, he gets a text back.
"I'm heading for the entrance. We have priority seating. Meet you there."
Kurt can't help but be a little impressed that his date, whoever he is, thought to reserve priority seating. That meant no waiting in that now tremendous line. He holds his phone tight in his grip and starts crossing the street, watching all the men who approach the restaurant, then stops dead in his tracks.
"What the…"
A tall man in a grey coat, weaving his way through the crowd, catches Kurt's eye. He looks so uncannily familiar. Even from this distance, and lit mostly by street lamps and ambient neon lighting, there's no mistaking his cocky swagger, his upswept brown hair, his piercing eyes (whose color remains to be seen), and the signature half-smirk on his lips.
"No way," Kurt whispers. "It can't be."
The man looks up and Kurt can see him more clearly…and it definitely was.
Sebastian Smythe.
The last person Kurt expected to run into in New York. Last Kurt heard from the rumor mill was that Sebastian had gone back to France, pretty much right after graduating Dalton. Apparently, the rumors were wrong.
Guess that's why they're called rumors. They're not always so reliable.
Kurt has to admit that the years have been generous to Sebastian; more than generous. Even beneath the long coat he has pulled tightly around his frame, Kurt can tell that the preening peacock he once knew has filled out considerably; not that he wasn't already built when Kurt met him (if he had been forced to admit it…at gun-point…while holding a bomb). Time has broadened his shoulders and leaned out his face, making his cheekbones more sculpted, his brow more defined.
The years might have made him better looking, but they probably haven't improved his personality, and Kurt will be damned if an already awkward situation like a blind date is going to be tainted by the presence of Sebastian Smythe. He retreats back across the street and quickly composes another text.
"Sorry to change horses mid-stream, but is there any way we can go somewhere else? I just saw someone heading toward the entrance that I'd rather not bump into inside."
Kurt hits send and sighs, wondering what kind of message he's most likely to get back. He smiles at the words that appear on his screen.
"Someone you need me to beat up?"
Kurt shakes his head and types a reply.
"No. I'd just feel more comfortable if we went somewhere else."
Kurt taps his foot, waiting for a reply.
"Okay. Why don't we go to Junior's? It's not too far from here. Do you know where it is?"
Kurt mumbles to himself happily as he types his message back.
"Yes, I do. Sounds great! See you there."
Kurt hits send and starts to make his way back across the street. He looks over at the Hard Rock Café, trying to ascertain who might be his date for the evening, scanning the crowd in time to see Sebastian rush off. Kurt stops walking again, confused but relieved. He pulls out his phone.
"Abort! Abort! It seems like my nemesis is leaving. We can go back to our regularly scheduled date."
Kurt hits send, reaching the middle crosswalk and stopping when the light turns red. He keeps a wary eye on Sebastian to make sure that he keeps walking, but suddenly the man stops and pulls out his own cell phone. Kurt watches, his confusion becoming a nagging, irrational concern as Sebastian shakes his head, his smirk growing. He seems to type out a text message and heads back toward the café.
When Kurt's phone vibrates in his pocket, his mouth goes dry. He looks down at the screen on his phone and nearly chokes.
"Sweetheart, if you want to dance, let's take this inside."
Kurt stands stuck in his spot. He doesn't know what he should do, not sure if he should confront Sebastian or run back to his loft in Bushwick and never look back. As he waits on a peculiarly long light, he reasons with himself. He's not 100% sure that him texting his mystery date and Sebastian sending a text are related. It could be entirely coincidental. Was he going to ditch his date out of fear of running into Sebastian Smythe and miss out on something that could turn out to be truly fantastic? Thinking fast, Kurt sends one last text.
"I'm crossing the street right now. Could you wait at the cross walk for me?"
Kurt watches in horror as Sebastian checks his phone, and then heads straight for the cross walk.
Kurt's insides freeze.
"Oh, you can't be serious," Kurt mutters as the light turns green and he trudges heavily across the last short stretch of the street. Sebastian's eyes go wide when he spots Kurt walking toward him, his grin slow burning and brimming with wicked amusement.
"Well, well, well," Sebastian says. "Look who the cat dragged in."
Kurt rolls his eyes and bobs his head.
"Hello, Sebastian," Kurt says flatly, trying to force a smile and failing.
"So, am I to assume that you are my date for this evening?" Sebastian almost chuckles the last few words, but Kurt can see him blushing despite his usual arrogance. Kurt's eyes sweep the group that had walked with him across the street, trying to find anyone else he could pin the title of 'blind date' on, but seeing as the only people still left around are an elderly couple, a mother and her toddler son in tow, and a teenager dressed all in black and carrying a skateboard, he would have to fess up.
"I guess that would be…me," Kurt admits, swallowing hard.
Sebastian bows slightly and offers Kurt his arm. Kurt looks at the arm as if it's going to lash out and strangle him.
"Don't look so terrified, Hummel," Sebastian says, taking the initiative to loop his arm beneath Kurt's rigid limb. "We're supposedly a match, remember?" Sebastian whispers, staring at Kurt with sincere, moss-colored eyes. "Who knows? I might surprise you."
Ghosts of the past try to persuade Kurt to tug his arm away and break this off before it begins, but something in the curl of Sebastian's lip, the way his smile mirrors the glimmer in his eyes, how the blush in Sebastian's cheeks remains even when he recovers his confidence, convinces Kurt to stay. He nods and loosens up a bit.
"Alright," Kurt says, leading Sebastian toward the restaurant and the buzzing hive of laughing, talking, dancing people; families out for dinner, couples out on dates – first dates, fifth dates, ninth dates, maybe blind dates as well. This is normal, it happens every day; Kurt just never thought it would happen with Sebastian Smythe.
"So, who's this douchebag I get to kick the shit out of?" Sebastian asks, flashing a knowing grin.
"Oh, that…" Kurt chuckles. "Don't worry about it."
"Are you sure?" Sebastian stops Kurt, raising an eyebrow, keeping his cards close even though Kurt knows exactly what he's asking.
"Yeah." Kurt pulls Sebastian toward the door. "I'll let it go. Who knows? Maybe he's not so bad after all."