Kurt was still shaken to his core. His mind was fried; like eggs in a skillet. The thoughts racing at an alarming speed.
Power. His mother. Wolf.
Kurt couldn't make sense of it all. How would Frank know about his mother? And most of all, why did Kurt believe what he uttered so wholeheartedly. It felt so true, the marrow in his bones told him so. He needed coffee. Fast. He wandered the streets aimlessly. He eventually came across a small coffee shop. From the looks of it was a quaint mom and pop kind of joint. It felt more familiar and homely than a Starbucks.
The small bell above the door rang to signal his appearance. A small elderly woman with sepia-toned skin looked up from her worn book of cross-word puzzles. Her hazel eyes were bright and kind, an easy smile gracing her wrinkled face.
"Hello, mon cheri. I'm Cloetta, what can I do for you on this fine day?" A mild French accent littered her speech. It was comforting. Kurt was tempted to reply in French but thought against it.
"Hi, can I just have cup of coffee? Light and sweet, please." His voice shook, and a grim smile took its place.
"Sure thing, sweetie. Take a seat and I'll bring it you in just a moment." Kurt thanked her and made his way to the plush red leather booth. He toyed with a napkin in hopes to steady his shivering hands. Cloetta arrived sooner than Kurt expected with a cup of coffee and a snack plate with a pastry.
"I hope you don't mind but I gave you a scone. You looked like you needed a pick me up. It's on the house." Her wrinkled hands gently patted his in an unexpected maternal gesture. Kurt was touched, his cerulean eyes filling with tears. He breathed out a thank you. Cloetta gave him a small smile before rushing back to the counter to attend to another customer.
Kurt was picking apart his scone when the bell above the door caught his attention. His heart quickened when he saw that it was the mysterious man from the library. The raven-haired gentlemen sniffed, the nostrils of his aquiline nose flaring ever so slightly; just like they did in the library. It looked as though he was intent on looking for something, or more importantly, someone. He turned his gaze toward Kurt who quickly averted his eyes. It wasn't polite to stare. Especially at a presumably straight man of his size. Kurt heard his heavy, even strides before he saw him. When Kurt looked up, he stifled a moan. Christ, he was even more attractive up close. His vibrant, tawny eyes were absolutely wild. They reminded Kurt of the pine forest outside his apartment. Mysterious and dangerous; a place that Kurt would willingly lose himself in.
"Is this seat taken, Mr. Hummel?" The man's voice was rough as sand paper and deep, too. Kurt's knees would've buckled if he weren't sitting down. He briefly wondered he would sound like in the throes of passion; his mind reverting to his earlier perverted thoughts. Kurt mused what his own name would sound like rolling off Blaine's tongue. The delicious bass of his wrapping around the single syllable. He shivered, and a fire began to kindle in the deepest parts of his stomach, its flames licking at his loins.
Moments had past and Kurt seemed to forget the question. He blinked and hastily replied, "N-no, of course not. Please. Take a seat." He gestured to the opposing side of the booth in earnest. The man obliged, his long legs leaning in the booth; knees ever so slightly grazing Kurt's.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of introducing myself. My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson." Blaine. What a beautiful name. The same name from one of Kurt's favorite movies as a child, Pretty in Pink. He watched it with his mother religiously, each time always gazing adoringly at the cliché bad boy lead. Although this Blaine was indefinitely more attractive than the actor in the movie. Kurt was tempted to repeat it out loud; rolling it on his tongue as if to familiarize himself with the man he was beginning to fantasize so much about. Blaine held his hand out for Kurt to presumably shake. The fair-skinned boy clumsily placed his limp hand in Blaine's. He always hated firm handshakes. Kurt always found them to be alarmingly excessive and hypermasculine. His father teased him relentlessly for it. Blaine didn't seem to mind. His rough, thick fingers grazed over Kurt's delicate digits. Kurt swore he felt a subtle jolt of electricity but ultimately ignored it.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Here I was thinking your name was Blair all this time." Kurt giggled at the confession. Blaine looked confused and Kurt clarified, "I had asked Chandler who you were. He told me, and I quote, Blair or something stupid like that." Kurt gingerly pick up his cup of coffee to ease the awkwardness he was feeling. This man did something to his nerves. He wanted everything he said to come out perfect; like the orchestrated dialogue from a movie script. Though Kurt knew better than to rely on life imitating art. Life was rarely ever like it was in the movies.
Blaine smiled, his eyes shining with mock offense. His lips curved upward, his exposed canines disturbingly sharp. They were awfully pronounced. Kurt's gut stirred at the abnormal dentition. He ignored it, too captivated by the blinding smile. "He told me to stay out your seat. I don't think your boyfriend likes me very much", Blaine's tone was teasing but his usually guarded eyes briefly darkened with some unknown emotion. Kurt snorted and nearly spit out his coffee.
"Chandler? My boyfriend? You wound me, sir." Kurt held his palm toward his heart for added comedic effect. Blaine let out a hearty chuckle that was deliciously deep. "Chandler is...annoyingly overzealous when it comes to his affection for me." Kurt admitted, his sea-stained eyes rolling.
"I bet you have that effect on a lot people." If Kurt didn't know any better, it sounded as if Blaine knew from experience. "He doesn't deserve you."
Kurt laughed and replied, "and what? You do?" He was mostly joking but was also curious at how Blaine would respond.
"Perhaps. Only time will tell, Kurt." Kurt shivered at Blaine uttering his namesake. It felt erotic; the way his dusty pink lips parted to form the singularly short syllable. Blaine's eyes, in their unnaturally golden hue, blazed with untold secrets. Kurt found himself longing to figure them out. Blaine was hiding something. Something big. Kurt just couldn't quite put his elegantly manicured finger on it. Not yet anyway. Blaine must have realized he revealed too much and a mask seemed to slide over his face; concealing his emotions. He cleared his throat and the flirtatious atmosphere diminished in mere passing of seconds.
"I'm lucky I saw you here today. I've been meaning to stop you at the library. I'm a fan of your work on the witch trials. Magic is such an utterly...fascinating subject."
Kurt's mouth went dry as his mind flickered to the earlier episode Frank seemed to be having. Magic was a touchy topic this morning. He smoothly replied, "It most definitely is. Although as an historian, I'm more tempted to analyze the perception of magic than the supernatural itself. And more specifically how those perceptions act as vehicles of the vast fields of human imagination and discrimination." Kurt stalled for a moment. He normally didn't speak so candid about his work. Most people tended to brush off his interest in seemingly objectively trivial matters of folklore and magic. He was used to aggressively defending his work from naysayers. Blaine seemed interested enough, the raven-haired man leaning into every word Kurt spoke as if he was looking for some obscure clue.
Blaine's watch beeped, and his hands dove into his pockets and fished out a business card and smoothly slid it over the coffee-stained table. "I have to go but I'd love to talk about it and pick your brain sometime. Give me a call." He seemed genuinely disappointed that our brief time together was being unceremoniously cut short. His eyes poured into Kurt's own. It was intensely intimate, and Kurt was beginning to realize Blaine would be difficult to say no to.
"Yeah, sure. Anything you want." Kurt replied breathlessly, his lips curling seductively into a grin. They exchanged goodbyes and Kurt ogled Blaine's shapely backside as he disappeared from the quaint coffee shop. Cloetta shared a knowing look with Kurt, her murky hazel eyes ablaze with unabated mirth.
Kurt ran his fingertips over the card with Blaine's number, his prior shaken mood long forgotten since the dark-haired man's appearance.
Blaine was still hiding something but Kurt was all the more content to ignore for the time being if it meant being able to get closer to his handsome acquaintance.
Later in the evening, long after Kurt left the coffee shop, he cuddled into bed with his phone in his hand. His fingers ghosted over the new number he placed in his contact list. He was almost compelled to press the call button. But Kurt knew it was entirely too soon and entirely too late to phone Blaine. He sighed and placed his phone on charge. He willed himself to sleep and his last remaining thoughts of consciousness revovled around the tall man with dark hair and golden eyes.
Outside, on the precipice between wilderness and civilization, a lone howl tore through the midnight air. Watchful, golden eyes settled patiently at the reflection of an apartment window.
Watching. Waiting. Wanting.
AN: Alas, Kurt and Blaine finally meet! Sorry if this feels rushed. I struggle with dialogue and organic pacing. I just wanted them to meet already, this is a Klaine fic after all. As always, reviews surrounding suggestions or critiques (positive or negative) are greatly appreciated.