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He’s terrified, honestly. So many things could go wrong. Instead of his usual daydreams he imagines new scenarios, each more worse than the last. He could spill food on himself or get spinach in his teeth or show up at the wrong time or day or he could say the wrong thing or hurt Kurt’s feelings and not know how to fix them.
But the scariest part was asking in the first place, and he already did that, so he breathes, he relaxes, and he picks Kurt up and accepts whatever’s going to happen before it happens.
The hardest part comes when he actually sees Kurt, because shit.
He’s pretty freaking stunning, and he almost forgets how to drive, how to not crash into other cars on the road, and he’s pretty freaking thankful he wore his nice jeans tonight.
Kurt directs the way to the restaurant, a place Blaine’s never been before, and so far, the night’s going good. He doesn’t hold his hand or link arms with him as they walk through the doors, and any passerby might think they were complete strangers just by looking at them. But not touching him means nothing can go wrong, so he’s okay with it.
“Now we either leave this place completely fine, or with fatal food poisoning,” Kurt says to him, as they wait for a table. “There’s no inbetween.”
Blaine hums and nods, then nudges Kurt with his elbow and winks. “And you said romance was lost on me?”
The hostess seats them, hands them a couple of menus and relays tonight’s special, and Blaine thanks her, smirking at the surprised face Kurt makes once she leaves.
“I know how to say please and thank you, Kurt. I’m not an animal,” Blaine says teasingly, nudging Kurt’s foot with his. “I grew up in private school.”
“Sorry,” Kurt says quietly, still looking stunned. “I’m not used to hearing it.”
They flip through the menu together, Kurt pointing out what’s good and what to avoid, and once they’ve ordered, conversation stops. Like somebody pressed a button and erased their ability to speak, both of them just looking at each other and then away. Nerves rise and climb up Blaine’s spine and he can’t sit still anymore, fidgeting in his seat, picking up his fork and tapping it against the tabletop, the edge of his water glass, sighing every few seconds.
“Blaine,” Kurt says, drawing his attention up, and his voice sounds serious but Kurt’s smiling easily at him, reaching across the table and putting his hand over Blaine’s, prompting the fork down. “You don’t have to do that.”
He gulps, starts to tap his hand now instead, and asks, “Do what?”
“It’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too. I think that’s what we’re supposed to feel.”
He’s about to pull his hand out from under Kurt’s and mutter I’m not nervous, but he sighs instead, relief filling his lungs.
“Cool,” he murmurs, looking around the restaurant they’re in. It’s nothing spectacular, because he’s been in a real restaurant before, but it’s not too busy or crowded or loud, the perfect place for a first date, he guesses. “Interesting place you chose here. I think I just saw a mouse.”
Kurt sighs and rests his chin on his hand. “Unfortunately Lima’s selection of fine-dining is limited to this place, McDonald’s, and a 7-11. And as romantic as that sounds, I’m never stepping foot inside one of those again.”
Blaine laughs, brows furrowing in confusion. “Because of the slushies?”
Kurt shudders, making a face. “Don’t even speak its name. It’s awful. All my allowance goes towards my dry cleaning bill.”
“Maybe invest in some waterproof clothes.”
“Oh, I’ve definitely looked into it.”
He smiles, and looks around some more, feeling less nervous now than he was a few minutes ago. “It’s not that bad here though. A lot of old people.”
“I know, sorry,” Kurt exhales, rolling his eyes and waving a hand at all the old couples dining around them. “Saturday is senior night.”
“It’s sad that you know that.”
Kurt groans. “Don’t remind me.”
He realizes then that not only are they the youngest people in the restaurant, but they’re the only two boys together, which is to be expected in a town like this. But nobody’s looking at them weird, or with hatred in their eyes, everyone just focused on the person across from them.
A couple walks by their table, hand in hand, and Blaine has to smile, still looking at their entwined hands as he says, “It’s kinda nice though. Like, look at them.”
Kurt looks over his shoulder at the couple, turning back to look at Blaine with a curious look carved into his face. “What about them?”
He shrugs, embarrassed by the sudden wave of sentiment. “They’re still holding hands. Like even after all this time they don’t want to be apart.”
He’s too afraid to look directly at Kurt’s face, sees out of the corner of his eye as Kurt smiles and ducks his head a little.
It seems like the conversation is coming to an end again, silence filling in the space between them, but then Kurt asks, “What if they just met?”
Something compels him, controls him, instructs him to look up and meet Kurt’s eyes and he smiles, so easily, like there’s nothing in the way, like there never was.
“Then that’s even better.”
It gets easier. It’s not perfect. There are moments of silence, nervous glances, too much laughter and smiles and words that don’t make sense, and Blaine finds he spends a lot of time just looking at Kurt’s hands, imagining things he really shouldn’t.
He lets Kurt do most of the talking, because he likes to listen and learn and because that way he can’t say the wrong thing, and Kurt seems to understand this, seems to prompt himself with whatever face Blaine’s making and continues onto the next topic.
By the end of their dinner he knows everything that there possibly could be to Kurt Hummel, but he has a feeling that there’s more.
Then the waitress gives them their check, and because he can be prince charming too, he goes to pull out his wallet.
Except.
It’s not there.
He’s proud of himself for appearing calm, even though every cell in his body simultaneously combusts. His voice remains together, cold and collected as he says, “Okay, let’s go.”
Kurt stands, putting on his jacket, but he looks down at Blaine, a bit confused. “Aren’t you going to leave a tip?”
He swallows so hard it hurts. “Yeah, don’t trust teenagers,” he mutters, voice losing its strength.
“Blaine -”
“What, Kurt?” he snaps, standing and reaching for Kurt’s arm, ready to run.
“You’re going to pay, right?”
Losing his calm, he looks around frantically, as if Kurt just shouted that for the entire restaurant to hear, and he growls between clenched teeth, “I would if I had my wallet.”
Kurt drops to sit back down, pulling Blaine with him, and his voice is lowered as he leans across the table to ask, “Where’s your wallet?”
“In the pair of jeans I usually wear!”
He hates how wide Kurt’s eyes are, fearful and panicked, because of him, but he can’t look away.
“Why aren’t you wearing them tonight?” Kurt hisses, narrowing his eyes so now he just looks angry.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was a crime to want to look nice for you!” he snaps, feeling hurt just about everywhere. “Don’t you have any money?”
“No, I thought you were paying!”
Kurt slumps back in his seat, arms crossed and head down, silently fuming and Blaine truly does feel horrible, embarrassed, but he should have known something would go wrong, he should have known.
“Great, fucking great,” he mutters, mimicking Kurt’s position. “Okay, we’re just gonna have to run out of here.”
Kurt’s chin snaps up, eyes back to being alert. “We are not dining and dashing, Blaine.”
“Then what do we do!?”
Breathing heavily, Kurt looks around, and then sits upright, arm in the air and fingers snapping.
Their waitress comes back to them, already wearing a mask of annoyance, like she just knows. He’s a bit taken back when Kurt speaks to her, losing his bitter tone of voice and talking clearly, informing her of their current predicament.
She hums, huffs, leaves for a few minutes and then comes marching back.
“Dish duty for the both of you,” she says, snapping her fingers at them and prompting them up. “And then you’re to never come back here again. Is that clear?”
Kurt looks over to Blaine and then nods at her. “Fine with me. I don’t plan on ever coming here again.”
It’s not the restaurant he’s talking about.
That hurts more than anything, because he tried, and now he's failing.
Maybe he should have known something would go wrong, but even if he did, he would have gone through with this night anyways, because it was worth it. Kurt was worth it. Trying was worth it.
For the first time in a long time, maybe in his whole life, he doesn’t want to give up.
Because he can’t imagine the opposite.
“No, wait. He’s not to blame here. I am.” He stands up, eyes never leaving Kurt’s, hoping he can somehow convey what he feels and what he means just by looking at him. “I’ll do the dishes, just let him go.”
Kurt blinks furiously, like he’s trying to wrap his mind around what Blaine just said. “Blaine -”
“It’s my fault. It’s okay.”
The waitress sighs, unimpressed with his show of bravery, and pulls him by his jacket towards the kitchen.
-
Two hours.
It takes almost two hours.
He knows this because he counts every single second that passes and adds it up. He touches food that was probably still alive, or maybe brought back to life. The gross smell has soaked into his clothes, and now he’s going to smell like dirty dish water for the rest of his days.
And he probably just lost Kurt for good.
The kitchen staff hurries him out once he’s done his last plate, and he exits the kitchen, wiping his hands down his pants as he mutters to himself.
When he looks up, Kurt’s there, sitting on a bench by the doors.
He nearly trips over his own feet, and then he’s unable to control anything about the face that he’s making, bewildered and delighted and so fucking relieved.
“Kurt, what - what are you doing here?” he asks, hesitantly approaching him.
Kurt looks up, eyes tired and smile slow. “You’re my ride.”
His heart drops to the floor. “Oh.”
“And leaving you didn’t feel right,” Kurt adds, standing and closing the distance between them, hand finding its place on Blaine’s elbow. “Are you okay?”
He looks forward, eyes hollow, dead. “Scarred for life. I touched stuff, and I don’t think it was food.”
Kurt laughs, head tilting down, pulling Blaine a little closer. “That was very courteous of you. I was about to help, but my fingers would have pruned."
He lets Kurt keep hold of his arm, starts to walk towards the doors and then outside.
“Oh, my fingers would prune,” Blaine repeats, mocking him, face scrunching up, but then he laughs easily and shrugs. “Oh well. You owe me one though.”
The cold air hits them, their exhales turning icy, and Kurt steps closer. “Anything.”
“I’m just spitballing here, but the backseat of my car sounds pretty good right now.”
Kurt laughs, swatting his arm. “Knowing what you just touched? No thank you.”
Their steps slow as they approach Blaine’s car, and that feeling of finality sets in, the night suddenly feeling like it’s coming to an end, and Blaine really doesn’t want it to.
But he nods towards his car and exhales, because if Kurt’s still here then maybe it’s not really ending, maybe there’s still more.
“Let me take you home, and then the next date is on you.”
The air between them changes, wiping out their silly smiles and nervous laughter, and Kurt looks serious, captivated, nodding as he says, “Deal.”
Still doing his best effort to be prince charming, he opens Kurt’s door for him, waits until he’s seated before closing it and moving around to his side.
The silence of the car overwhelms him, eery and not right, and it feels like he’s missing something, like he’s not understanding something. Kurt’s looking straight at him, and in the dark Blaine can’t see the colour of his eyes, just sees how wide and and scared they are.
“Blaine?”
Not scared, no, but maybe . . . entranced.
His lungs seal up tight, no more breathing, and he has to fight himself in order to ask, “What?”
Kurt snaps his head away, looking out the window instead. “Nothing. It’s - it’s not important.”
He frowns, unable to just let it go now that his interest has been piqued. “Lay it on me, it’s okay.”
Kurt shakes his head. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly, Kurt,” he sighs, gesturing with his hands at him. “What?”
One second, two seconds, and Blaine realizes what he’s really been counting down to on the third second, when Kurt turns back around and looks at him like he’s never looked at him before.
Because then time just doesn’t exist, slow and then fast and then slow again as Kurt leans forward, rests his hand on the side of Blaine’s face and moves even closer.
Kurt closes his eyes but he can’t get himself to, unable to believe that this is really happening, afraid if he shuts them then Kurt will just be gone.
But then Kurt’s kissing him, his lips warm and soft but unlike anything else in the whole world, and Blaine suddenly knows he could never make this up. Not in his most far fetched, wildest daydreams could he create Kurt Hummel.
Kurt’s hesitant, and Blaine moves at his pace for the first few seconds, but then he only wants more, as much as he can have, cupping Kurt’s jaw and his hand feels so right there, leaning forward and pressing Kurt against the door.
Kurt makes an ‘oof’ sound, both of them pulling back the smallest fraction of an inch, and Blaine laughs, just a little, too caught up in everything else to even realize what he’s doing.
And he opens his mouth to say something, a part of him urging him to say something, a part of him knowing exactly what to say, but there’s another part still telling him he can’t.
Instead they just look at each other, and Blaine hopes that’s enough, kissing Kurt again on the lips and relishing in how Kurt just melts.
He wants to keep going, wants to see how far he can push this, how far he can go with Kurt in just one night, because it feels like he could go anywhere and everywhere.
But Kurt’s still kissing him carefully, in hesitant presses, whining when Blaine’s tongue touches his, and Blaine just knows that’s not really true, because -
This must be Kurt’s first kiss.
As bad as he wants to keep going, he pulls back, breathing heavily and lips tingling and his entire soul buzzing.
“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, voice rough and soft at the same time.
He doesn’t go far, keeping his hand on Kurt’s face, thumb stroking, and he licks over his lips and tastes Kurt’s and he feels his insides flare hot, but he swallows it down and shakes his head. “Let me take you home.”