DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from the song of the same name by All Time Low.

Tumblr is here (endofadream)

When the bell above the door dings Kurt looks at the clock, his heart fluttering. It's just a little after noon, which means that he's back. Blaine. Kurt doesn't know his last name, just knows that he's a poetry student at NYU, that he looks adorable in bowties and even better in cardigans, and that he's just barely a year older than Kurt. Kurt also knows that Blaine holds amazing conversations and has made him laugh more than his coworkers ever have.

Kurt fiddles with the machines, finishing up an order and calling out the name. The coffee shop is surprisingly empty for a Tuesday afternoon, just a few stragglers here and there, but Kurt won't complain. With finals just around the corner the place gets hectic most days, full of harried college students taking a break from the Starbucks around the corner. As a NYADA student Kurt's exams are more physical than mental, but he still knows exactly what the crunch feels like.

Before Blaine even reaches the counter Kurt pulls a cup from the stack next to the register and clicks open his Sharpie. By the time Blaine stops in front of him Kurt is already half-scribbling down Blaine's name on the side of the cup and saying, "A medium drip again today?"

Blaine laughs, soft and breezy. When he grins it crinkles his eyes into adorable half-moons and Kurt's heart flutters pathetically as he finishes writing Blaine's name and sets the cup down. He has to avert his eyes and clear his throat to keep from swooning, which would be extremely unprofessional. For all he knows Blaine has a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or an aversion to relationships in general. Kurt wouldn't blame him on that last one.

"I need to start switching it up, huh?" Blaine asks. He fiddles with the tip jar on the counter, then looks at the glass cake tray filled with biscotti. Kurt cocks his head, clicks his pen and puts it in the pocket of his apron, and waits. Blaine chews on his lower lip briefly before waving in the direction of the display "You know what? I think I'll take one of those today."

"A good choice." Kurt nods, lips half quirked up. He lifts up the glass lid, grabs one with some wax paper and puts it in one of the shop's little pastry bags. "I like that you're constant," he says as nonchalantly as possible. He begins typing in the order into the register, sending a little smile up at Blaine. "It just means you're reliable."

"Or boring." Blaine pulls out his wallet and hands Kurt his card. Their fingers brush and Kurt's breath hitches. He thinks he sees Blaine falter when withdrawing his hand, but Kurt pushes the thought out of his head. He's being irrational—irrationally hopeful, too, if he wants to be honest. Having a crush on a customer is ridiculous.

It doesn't help that today Blaine looks extra adorable in a thick gray sweater and tight dark-wash denim. His hair is just as gelled down as ever—Kurt wishes he'd stop doing that, thinks that what's under the helmet can't possibly be any worse—and his smile is just as warm and bright whenever he and Kurt lock eyes. Kurt imagines some other scenario of them holding hands, maybe running through Central Park as Blaine leads him. Then he immediately mentally slaps himself.

"I don't think you could ever be boring," Kurt says as he hands Blaine his receipt. His voice is almost too breathy, and Kurt blushes as he realizes how what he said could be misconstrued, so he backtracks with, "I mean—not that we really know each other. I just think that—that poetry students are fascinating."

Blaine laughs, and the sound is like warm honey trickling down Kurt's spine. His amber eyes are wide when they meet Kurt's, and he hitches his backpack up on his shoulder as he says, "Are they now?"

Before Kurt can answer Blaine looks down, then up, and his confident, carefree smile falters just slightly, becomes a little more bashful, before he says, "I happen to think that baristas are fascinating."

He leaves and walks over towards his usual table by the window, leaving Kurt standing still, his eyes wide and his breath caught in his throat as his mind desperately tries to catch up with what just happened. Was Blaine just flirting with him? They've talked dozens of times since Kurt began this job here back in August, but before now Blaine has never shown any interest. What could have changed? Or does he just want to be friends? God, that would just be Kurt's luck.

The bell dings again, distracting Kurt, and he looks over as Suzy steps up to the register. He sets about making Blaine's drink, biting his lip as he looks at the jar of cinnamon. He's seen Blaine shaking it into his coffees on past visits, and it couldn't hurt to do it for him, right? It's just him being helpful to a loyal customer, after all.

Kurt sprinkles some in, then puts the lid on and steps up to the counter, calling out Blaine's name. Kurt cranes his neck, sees Blaine look up from a messy pile of papers and textbooks before pushing his chair back and standing up. Kurt holds out the coffee when Blaine reaches the counter, says, "I added a little something extra today."

Blaine's brows rise. He looks down at the lid of the cup, then back up at Kurt. "Should I be scared?" he asks before taking a sip. He blinks once he swallows, then says, surprised, "Cinnamon?"

Kurt flushes all the way down to the very roots of his hair, and suddenly the man behind the newspaper on the far wall is endlessly fascinating. "I've seen you put it in your coffee before, so I figured I'd…do it for you. You know."

He wipes his hands on his apron, smoothes it down over his hips. He's dying to check his hair, make sure that his coif is as flawless and gravity-defying as ever, but he doesn't want to look nervous, or worse, like he's actually trying to impress Blaine. Which he isn't. At all.

"Well, thank you, Kurt," Blaine says. Kurt almost shivers at the sound of his name as it rolls off of Blaine's tongue. It has an almost lyrical cadence to it, something that makes Kurt strain forward on his toes to hear more. He wants to hear Blaine say his name like that again. He needs it.

Luckily Blaine walks back to his table before Kurt can say something stupid, like asking Blaine to say his name again.

"I'm surprised you haven't put your number on a cup of his yet," Suzy says lightly as she walks by with a stack of napkins.

Kurt looks out across the shop at where Blaine is bent over his table, pen moving quickly over a piece of paper. He feels his cheeks heat up, and he wipes at the counter with a rag, refusing to look up. "I'm sure it'd be pointless, anyway."

"What makes you so sure? Every time you look away to go tend to a customer he's staring at you. I think half of the shop has noticed it by now."

A hopeful feeling leaps like a pouncing lion in Kurt's chest; when he looks up and out towards Blaine's table Blaine is looking down again, but he's shifted, his back hunched a little bit more.

Kurt turns, looks at Suzy. "What do you think it means?"

Suzy rolls her eyes and tucks a lock of black hair behind her ear. "It means you need to get laid and stop dancing around each other already." She purses her lips. "Then again, we've never had such a loyal customer. Maybe if you keep baiting him he'll keep coming back…"

Kurt slaps her arm and she dances off towards the register, cackling, as a high school-age girl walks in. Kurt stares out at Blaine, at the shine of the light on his hair, the hunch of his shoulders, the furious dance of his pen. Has Blaine been coming here specifically for him? What if Kurt went to his table right now, what if he kissed him, or—or gave him his number, or—

"Hey, loverboy." Suzy snaps her fingers and Kurt blinks, looking up. "Grande soy latte with extra foam. Stop pining."

Kurt pouts, snatching the cup from her. He tries his best to distract himself by making the best soy latte that he can. I'm at work, he reminds himself, his tongue wetting his lower lip as he puts the lid on the cup. I don't need to be thinking about some boy who's never even had the courage to ask me out—if he's even interested.

As Kurt's wiping his hands on his apron the bell dings, and he looks up to see the back of Blaine's head as he leaves. A heavy stone sinks in Kurt's stomach, and he finds Blaine's table empty except for his cup and a piece of paper. He'd taken his backpack, which means that he's gone. And in the dozen or so times since he's started coming in (not like Kurt is keeping count or anything) Blaine has never left without saying goodbye first.

He had to have heard Kurt and Suzy talking. Which means that Suzy was wrong, which means that Kurt was wrong, and of course he was. Why should his luck start changing now?

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Kurt steps out from behind the counter and heads over to the table, preparing to clear it off. It's odd that Blaine would leave his cup, and odder still that he would leave a piece of paper behind. Kurt's seen his notebooks and binders and knows that he's incredibly neat.

As Kurt's reaching for the cup, the paper catches his eyes. It looks like poetry, but it's in Blaine's handwriting—and Kurt's name is at the top in that same messy scrawl. Intrigued, Kurt picks it up and begins to read.

"Do you remember what you said to me the day we first met?
'I like your bowtie,' you'd said. 'It matches your eyes.'

I don't know if you noticed, but the next time I came in I wore one that matched yours, constellations and sea currents and a cloudless sky in June—
I wonder if you still smell of coffee when you go home, if you'd mind me chasing that taste off your skin.

Then I wonder if you think of me, because I think of you.

Every night the same;

every night wondering if this could mean something

and every night hoping that it does.
When you smile I smile, too, and sometimes I feel happy for the first time all day. It's like my heart has finally found its rhythm.
I feel like we are strangers who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Over and over again.

And I'm happy with that. Because it means I get to see you.

I don't ever want to stop seeing you.
I want to kiss that sweet rose blush from your pale skin—and make it reappear again.
Forgive me for being too forward, but I can't help it. Every time we meet it feels like an extension of something, a continuation of a movie ended long ago. It's a peaceful feeling, like the click of a lock coming in place. I chase that feeling, and then I think of you.

I can't stop thinking of you.

I never want to."

He has to read it a few more times before it begins to sink it, before the words make sense and Kurt understands why he's reading this in the first place. Blaine left it. Blaine had left it for him, because he'd written it for him. He'd written it for Kurt and he wants to kiss Kurt and oh god—

Kurt picks up the coffee cup next, turns it over and sees a number written on the side in Blaine's handwriting. His knees go weak, lips parting but no sound coming out. Everything fuzzes around him as he stares at the little smudge on the five, the hasty scrawl of the seven that squiggles it at the bottom. It's Blaine's number and it's Blaine's poem and they're both for Kurt.

Looking around, Kurt quickly pulls out his phone, types in the number into a new text message. He folds up the poem and tucks it in his pocket, tossing the cup casually in the trash as he walks back behind the counter. Once there he thumbs out a message, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He hesitates, just slightly, letting everything sink in and stay suspended in this limbo, before pressing send.

To Blaine (12:58PM):
So…did you really mean it?

The response is immediate.

To Kurt (12:58PM):
Every single line

To Kurt (12:58PM):
Also hello there, Kurt. I feel like this is a moment a long time in coming

To Blaine (12:59PM):
I'm sorry

To Kurt (1:00PM):
Don't be

To Kurt (1:00PM):
Sometimes things are just worth the wait :)

To Kurt (1:01PM):
I'd ask you out for coffee, but since you work there…

Kurt laughs softly, the very tips of his fingers buzzing with excitement and nerves.

To Blaine (1:02PM):
I know a great bistro a few blocks over

To Blaine (1:02PM):
I get off at three

To Kurt (1:02PM):
Then it's a date :)

Kurt clutches his phone to his chest and presses his lips tightly together to hold off a squeal.