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He’s nervous for a few different reasons.
One, there’s Kurt, and he’s never been alone with Kurt before, not like this.
Two, it’s the Lima Bean, which is a coffee shop that McKinley students and Dalton students seem to flock to.
So while he wants to pay attention and make sure he doesn’t screw anything up or say the wrong thing, he can’t really focus because he keeps looking over his shoulder at everyone around them, making sure he doesn’t actually know anybody here.
There’s a light touch at his hand, and it shocks him, eyes wide as he looks down and sees Kurt’s fingers hesitantly tap at the back of his hand, like - like he wants to hold it or something, and he doesn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, so he just taps Kurt back.
Kurt’s hand locks around his, but then quickly travels up his arm until he’s grabbing the safe spot of Blaine’s elbow, and starts to guide him through the coffee shop until they’re sitting somewhere in the back.
Kurt sits down, but Blaine can’t stop looking around, fidgeting and he knows Kurt’s looking at him weird but he can’t stop.
“What do you want?” he asks, voice rough and caught in his throat, throwing a glance to the front counter.
Kurt looks at him and then around, beginning to stand. “We don’t have to stay here -”
He shakes his head and gently pushes Kurt on the shoulder, prompting him back down. “Nah, it’s fine. Free coffee. What do you want?”
He makes a mental note to remember Kurt’s coffee order, just in case, but he knows he’ll forget it, so he types it into his phone’s memo pad.
Walking back to the table, he’s able to actually kinda look at Kurt, take in how nervous he looks, with his hands clasped over one another, thumb on top swiping back and forth. Which is just dumb, ‘cause Kurt has nothing to be nervous about.
Neither does he, he decides. If he just - sticks with that crumbling, miserable failure of a plan, or at least tries to . . . he might not make a total ass of himself. This is just coffee, nothing more, nothing less.
“Here,” he says, handing Kurt his cup, and when their fingertips brush he wants to yell out screw the fucking plan.
They both just sit there, fingers tapping along their cups, no words being said and their gazes catching every few seconds and they both smile, Kurt laughing a little nervously.
Blaine has to give him kudos, because this is the longest he’s ever hung out with someone without being told to screw off. But that’s only because they aren’t talking, and he knows once they do it’ll all fall apart.
“Well, this is fun,” Blaine says dryly, raising his eyebrows at Kurt as he takes a sip of his drink. “Are you regretting your decision yet?”
Kurt’s smile is visible from behind his cup, warm at its edges, and he shakes his said, says simply, “Nope.”
He almost wants to give up on Kurt’s behalf.
“Because this isn’t gonna go anywhere, I already know that,” he says, leaning back in his seat and sighing.
Kurt does look annoyed then, setting his drink down and sitting up straighter. “You wouldn’t have agreed to come here if you didn’t want to.”
“Whatever.” He looks off to the side, fingers too tight around his cup, and he so badly wants to look back and smile and just talk to him, but he still doesn’t know what to say or do or feel. “What do we even talk about?”
“Anything,” Kurt says, and the ice from his voice melts and he leans a little bit closer over the table. “I’ve - I’ve never done this either, but I don’t think there are rules.”
“Cool.”
“You could tell me more about yourself? Where you’re from?”
He almost says no fucking way, but he looks at Kurt, and he’s red in the face and his hand is just as tight around his cup and he’s - nervous, smile hopeful but still scared.
And he feels pretty horrible, actually, because Kurt’s being brave and he’s being an ass.
He shrugs, mumbles, “Not that interesting.”
“I don’t care,” Kurt says, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them. “Bore me to death.”
He laughs, just as nervous as Kurt’s was, and sips some more coffee, thinking of what to say, what he’s allowed to say, there’s just no way Kurt actually cares . .
“Uh, I was born in Westerville, but I’ve spent most of my life jumping between towns and school. Divorced parents life.”
Maybe that was too big of an admission, but Kurt nods, smiles and asks, “So then how’d you end up at McKinley in the middle of the semester?”
He smirks, tilts his head. “Would you believe me if I said I killed a man?”
Kurt’s mid-sip when he laughs, quickly covering his mouth and swallowing, breathing, before finally getting out, “So the rumours are true?”
“Oh yeah, I stabbed my own brother,” he laughs, teases, and nudges Kurt’s foot under the table. “But - I don’t know. I went to Dalton Academy for a few years. I just didn’t do my work, or show up enough, so they kicked me out.”
He sips his drink, waits for Kurt to pull his foot back or shudder in disgust or just completely lose interest.
Kurt frowns, one eyebrow raising, and then he sighs, “I was expecting something dramatic.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of knife fights -”
Kurt’s laugh cuts him off, loud and bright, the kind that makes his eyes and nose crinkle and his smile more intense, more bright.
“What?” he asks, whining, nudging Kurt’s foot harder. “Why are you -”
Kurt stops laughing, takes a deep breath, then points somewhere at Blaine’s face. “You have whipped cream on your lip. You don’t look nearly as frightening as you’re trying to sound.”
Embarrassment hits him and floods him up quickly, but he rolls his eyes and smiles, wiping his mouth off.
Kurt taps his cup off the table, humming, and Blaine can practically see the gears of his mind turning, trying to think of what to say.
“So . . . I guess you’re out of glee club in a month? What will you do with your new found freedom?”
He can’t read the way Kurt’s smiling, because it doesn’t look entirely real, a little forced.
“Fuck if I know,” he says, both shoulders rising up. “Whatever it is I used to do, I guess, with a slightly advanced knowledge of Broadway musicals.”
Kurt’s smile brightens, head shaking. “Oh, that’s Rachel for you.”
“Screw Rachel!” he says a little too loudly, slamming his cup down. “I’m blaming you!”
God, Kurt’s laugh is like nothing he’s ever heard before, he feels victorious to be the cause of it, warm and tight and something weird in his chest.
And he thinks about it, and that feeling has kinda been there all day. Has it really only been one day?
Once Kurt’s calmed down, voice back to its usual composure, he says, a bit slowly, “Do you think you’ll try singing some time? You seemed to have fun today.”
He immediately shakes his head, so hard his neck hurts from it. “Not my thing. I like watching you though.” They both look up and at each other, eyes meeting directly, and Blaine opens his mouth and sputters, “I - I mean -”
Kurt’s quick to say, “It’s okay, I get what you mean. You know, we could always . . we could do something together, if that makes it easier. If you want to.”
His mind says one thing, his mouth says another. “I don’t.”
Kurt just nods, and smiles some more. “That’s okay.”
He feels like he’s just ruined everything. Trying so hard to hold onto something carefully only to snap it into pieces, and he doesn’t know how to put it back together again.
During the few moments of silence between them, the noise from the coffee shop flows back in, the voices of everyone around them becoming much louder, and it’s then that he remembers where exactly they are, and it’s then that he realizes he really, honestly forgot.
Because of Kurt.
“You know,” he says, quietly, gaze fixed on the table, and he thinks he should stop himself from saying this but it feels surprisingly right. “You’re the only kid in that club that I can tolerate. Why is that?”
Kurt’s coy smile returns, hidden once again by his cup, but Blaine can feel it in the way Kurt nudges him with his foot.
“I’m the only one in that club that can tolerate you. Why is that?”
“We must be insane.”
“Certifiably.”