I survived a year of grad school, guys!

Blaine frowned as he viewed the tall shelf in front of him, thinking, Of course. Of course.

He'd finally managed to find a couple of books on the topic he was researching for class - the relationship between gender, culture, and theater throughout history - in the library's catalog and had headed directly to the stacks, not wanting to waste any more time that could be used to actually work on his paper.

So of course the one book he wanted most had to be on the very top shelf, with no stools in sight.

"That's not enough to stop me," he muttered quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the people in the nearby study carrels that lined the walls. "You're gonna be mine, Theater and Gender in the Sixteenth Century."

He took a slight step back and stretched up on his tiptoes, hoping that maybe the book was just close enough to the front of the shelf that he could wiggle it down. A few seconds of trying showed that that idea was incorrect.

"Okay, plan B," Blaine said, feeling determination course through him. He took a few steps down the aisle before angling himself in what he hoped was the most appropriate direction for grabbing the book without slamming face-first into the metal shelving. One deep breath later, he took off at a run and leaped-

-only to bounce off the shelving and land with a muffled crash on the carpet, bookless. He'd felt his fingers brush the spine of the book before he missed, though, so he figured another try might just do it.

"You got this, Anderson," he whispered, placing himself a little farther back than the last time before breaking into another sprint. Again he jumped, again he reached, and again he came down hard, this time smacking his hand hard against the edge of a shelf.

As he hissed and drew his hand in close to his body, he swore he heard laughter coming from the carrel at the end of the aisle. He turned toward the sound, only to see the most gorgeous man alive bent double in a chair, textbooks spread messily around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the man said after regaining some composure. "I'm not laughing at you specifically, just - the scenario, I guess? You have to admit that someone taking a flying leap for the top shelf is a pretty amusing image."

"I suppose," Blaine said begrudgingly, still in a bit too much pain to find the image that amusing.

"Oh no, did you actually hurt yourself?" the man asked, looking at Blaine's hand intently. "Fuck, I wouldn't have laughed if I'd seen that you were hurt."

"It's okay," Blaine said, mollified by the man's genuine concern. "I wasn't facing you when I landed, how could you have seen?"

"It was still rude of me," the man said. "What book were you trying to get? I'll grab it down for you."

"Theater and Gender in the Sixteenth Century," Blaine said, standing up. "It's for-"

"-Harbison's class? I took it last semester," the man said, coming toward Blaine with a smile. "Don't worry too much about the paper - he's a really easy grader for the final. Just wants you to show that you actually were paying attention for at least some of the class."

"That's a relief," Blaine said. "I was definitely feeling some stress about it earlier today."

"I turned in a paper three pages below the minimum page count and still scraped a B+," the man said, leaning up on his toes. Even he had to stretch a little for the book, but he managed to wiggle it off of the packed shelf in a few seconds. "You'll be fine-"

"Blaine," Blaine said when he realized the man was fishing for his name.

"Kurt," was the reply. Kurt handed Blaine the book, and they both stiffened slightly when their skin brushed. "And again, I'm so sorry for laughing. Is your hand okay?"

"It's gonna be a little tender tomorrow, but I think it's fine," Blaine said, flexing the hand in question. "I can bend all my fingers, so that's a good sign, right?"

"I assume so," Kurt said with a slight shrug. "Medical stuff is clearly not my forte, though - otherwise I wouldn't be in a theater program."

"Wait, you're not secretly pre-med? You're the only one," Blaine teased, making a mock-shocked face that earned a cute scowl from Kurt. "But maybe you could help me in another way?"

"Like how?" Kurt asked, looking a little suspicious but mostly intrigued.

Blaine screwed up all his courage before saying, "Like letting me study with you? Helping me with this paper might be the only way to make up for laughing at my pain earlier."

"You could probably twist my arm," Kurt said with a smirk. "I mean, not literally - one of us being injured today is enough - but a study buddy could help. Before I saw you jumping for that book, I was just staring off into space and wondering if I could get a pizza delivered to the library."

"Oooh, can we?" Blaine asked. "I'm starving."

"The only way to know is to try, I guess," Kurt said, leading Blaine back to his study carrel. "We don't have to stay here, by the way - I know it's kind of cramped-"

"I'm fine with it if you are," Blaine said, trying not to blush too obviously. "I like a little privacy when I'm studying."

"Then clear yourself some space," Kurt said with a smile and a grand gesture at the fairly small room. "But before you get too comfortable, you have to answer the most important question of them all."

"Which is…?"

"What toppings do you prefer?" Kurt asked, affecting a fake-mystical voice.

"I really love ham and pineapple," Blaine said.

"Me too!" Kurt said, clapping his hands together in excitement. "It's official, you can stay."

Blaine just smiled and cleared himself a place to sit, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't be considered too forward. He ended up facing the stacks, while Kurt was next to him but facing the other direction, out the window.

Long moments stretched out quietly before them, in which Blaine was ostensibly studying but mostly surreptitiously glancing at Kurt and wondering how he might be able to see him again. Thankfully, the right moment presented itself before long.

"The pizza's here!" Kurt announced after a while, hopping up to go get it. Blaine made to follow him, but Kurt stopped him, saying, "No, it's my treat. I'll go downstairs and meet the delivery person."

"Then maybe you'll let me pay next time?" Blaine asked impulsively.

"Would you - would you like there to be a next time?" Kurt asked, a little breathless.

"I'd love to spend some more time together. Maybe somewhere else, though?" Blaine said, figuring that he may as well go big or go home. "I know this cute little diner a couple blocks from here that makes the best comfort food."

"I do love comfort food," Kurt said, smiling.

"Then tomorrow, maybe?" Blaine asked. "I'm free after six."

"I'm free at seven," Kurt replied. "Meet me in the lobby here and we'll walk over?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds great," Blaine said with a smile.

"Great. Not to plan a - a dinner and run, but the pizza guy is about to be really mad if I don't show up soon," Kurt said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Right! Go get our dinner," Blaine said, blushing. "I'll hold down the fort."

"I'll be back soon," Kurt said, smiling and running off.

Blaine just sat there grinning like a fool until Kurt came back, pizza in hand.

(The next day, he'd tell Kurt it was alright to call their outings "dates." Kurt would respond by leaning in to kiss Blaine sweetly on the cheek. The next date, it would be the mouth.)