"So?"

"So what?"

"So, have your fairytale begun yet?"

Kurt sighed heavily. "No, it hasn't. And it won't."

"It so will," Rachel said, leaning forward to poke him between the ribs. She ducked back before he could take revenge, and carefully put her foot against his crotch to keep him from surging forward and start a tickling war.

"You play dirty, miss Berry," he muttered and relaxed his body back against the windowsill. It wasn't worth getting kicked in the crotch over.

They were sitting across from each other in the window looking out on the city. Rachel had a box of thai food balanced on her knees, and while she was distracted with the view, he reached out and grabbed it from her.

"Mmm, smells delicious," he teased and took a bite.

"Hey! You said you didn't want any!"

She tried to snatch it back, but Kurt held it out of reach. They were just a few feet away from each other, so there wasn't much room to struggle over.

She finally got it back, sticking her tongue out at him as she clutched the thai food protectively to her chest.

"My precioussss," Kurt teased, nudging her hip with his foot. She rolled her eyes and picked up a spring roll. All the knives and forks were in the sink, and the delivery guy had forgotten their eating sticks, so they were eating with their fingers. Kurt had been disgusted at first, watching in horror as Rachel stuck her hand into the box and fished out a piece of sauce-covered piece of quorn, but then they made a silly game out of it and he found himself enjoying getting dirty.

He reached forward and took a spring roll himself, swirling it around in the sauce before bringing it up to lick it off with his tongue. He then found Rachel watching him, and struck a ridiculous pose that totally cracked her up.

She gave his arm a light slap and took the box from him with a giggle. "You've had enough, silly."

He grinned and tried to take it from her too, and they spent a few moments pretend fighting over it, ending up in Kurt almost falling out of the window from laughing so hard.

"But honestly, Kurt," she said, sobering up. She rolled a piece of corn between her fingers and then popped it into her mouth. "What about work? Are you honestly telling me there isn't anyone you're interested in?"

Kurt snorted and once again stole the food box from her. He twirled his slender finger around a few noodles and brought it up to his mouth. It was a whole new thing eating with his fingers and it demanded much more attention than when he usually ate.

"I've worked there for two days, Rachel," he said, handing over the box to her waiting hands. "The other employees are great, the manager is horrible and the costumers are okay, but that's it."

"What about that guy you told me about, then? Puck, was it?" Rachel inquired, raising an eyebrow. "You said he was cute."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, but he's not my type. He's exactly like the McKinley jocks. If he walked into that place, he would fit in immediately."

"Don't count him out just yet," Rachel told him, thrusting her finger at him. "For all you know he might be the man of your dreams."

"He is okay and all, but I honestly don't think anything is going to happen."

"Of course you don't!" she exclaimed, making him jump a little in surprise. "The lovers never know they love each other, not until the very end. What fun would it be if you just got together right away? Honestly, Kurt, have you learned nothing from our weekly sap marathons?"

"Just because Jennifer Aniston finds love at every corner doesn't mean I will," he said tiredly. "And he really reminds me way too much of all the guys back home who used to throw me around in high school. I don't want him too close." He scowled. "And did I mention he only works there because it's his community service?"

Rachel clapped her hands excitedly. "That's perfect!" She heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned her chin in her hand. "He's a bit of a bad boy, but he has that thing that makes you think you can change him and then you–"

"Rachel," Kurt interrupted firmly. "You are insane."

"You believe whatever you want," she sighed, smiling happily at him. "You are so going to fall in love with him." She nudged him with her foot and singsonged, "Kurt and Puck sitting in a tree, and k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Kurt rolled his eyes and made a point out of ignoring her for the rest of the evening.

Kurt had been employed for an entire week now. He had already established a comfortable day-to-day routine. He would get up at 5am, do his skin moisturizing routine and fix his hair and get dressed, eat his breakfast and then walk with Rachel to the subway. It still stung a little when they parted, knowing that he was about to walk into a coffee shop and walk around with the tackiest apron in the world serving coffee while she spent her whole days strutting around on a stage belting out lyrics that were specially written for her character. She had recently landed a role in a musical – it wasn't Broadway, but it was something.

Yes, he might be a tad bitter, but then he got off the train and met up with Quinn at the gates, and the world fell into place again.

Every morning, he met up with Quinn at his subway stop, and together they walked the three blocks to the shop. They unlocked the place, made sure everything was in order and opened the door at 7am sharp. The Badger, using his manager position to justify him sleeping in each morning, usually came trudging in somewhere between 9-9.30am. Puck somehow managed to show up more or less ten minutes before The Badger, therefore never getting fired but earning him an hour or so extra in bed each morning.

Kurt and Quinn bonded quickly, laughing and talking in between serving costumers.

It wasn't the ideal situation, he'd be the first to admit that. But Quinn was amazing and they had so fun, and it was actually somewhat interesting watching the different kinds of costumers entering the shop.

The two of them made a game out of it. Whenever someone who wasn't a regular came in, they would speculate on their lives and who they were.

Usually they were men and women rushing in, wearing suits and clutching fancy briefcases in their shaking hands, ordering a single cup of caffeine-rich coffee to go. Those were always the most boring ones, and the stories they came up with were usually the same – busy, soon-to-be burned out business people dedicating their lives to work instead of their non-existent love life, or perhaps pursuing that oh-so-wanted top position at their firm at the cost of their children wasting away at home from lack of parental attention.

Sometimes an artist walked through the doors – painters, writers, singers. They always sat at a table in a dark corner, scribbling down lyrics or drawings, or studying the people around them for future character inspiration to their next novel. Those people were always fun to analyze.

"That one," Quinn whispered, discreetly nodding her head in the general direction of a shabby man sitting, of course, in the corner furthest away from the other costumers. He had a writing pad perched in his lap, and he was gazing around the room over the edge of his glasses. "He is a broke writer who moved here from some small city to make it huge, but the publishing company hated the book idea he pitched and now he sits around in coffee shops all day looking for inspiration for the novel that will put his name on the walk of fame."

Kurt looked over at the man while holding in a button to pour hot milk into a cup. He nodded, although his heart twitched a little at her words.

He was that man, only a younger version who hadn't failed at writing – he had failed at his own crafts, singing and dancing and acting.

"What about that guy?" he asked, steering the conversation away from the supposedly failed writer. He hadn't told either Puck or Quinn about his incapacity to land a decent job in the fields he had initially aimed for. He didn't want them to see him as a failure.

She followed his gaze, and smirked. "Oh, I know his type. He's waiting for a date that's not going to come. I bet you he leaves within the hour."

"Why would he get stood up?" he asked, frowning slightly. The guy looked fine to him – reddish curly hair, a face that somehow made him resemble a dog, and an obvious chin dimple. His hands were shaking as he raised his cup of coffee to take a sip, but otherwise he seemed alright.

"Loser," Quinn said simply. "Just look at his clothes. He has a vest addiction. I can tell. She will take one look at him and leave."

Kurt shrugged. Quinn knew these things better than him, having worked at this place for two years.

She was an aspiring actress, she had told him. She did some smaller things beside working at the shop, but she had landed no major roles yet. Once she got her break-through, she said, she'd quit and never look back.

Kurt wanted her to be successful, of course, but silently wished she'd never leave. He didn't dare think about how dull and lifeless his day-to-day life would become without her.

She was such a great friend. They were at the same level of enjoying being slightly mean and bitchy, but not to an extent when it went overboard. They quietly whispered about their customers, yes, but it was never truly mean. It was just for fun, to make the time pass faster.

A woman with a very thin figure and red shiny hair that curled into her face entered the shop. She had huge doe-like eyes that softened her face considerably.

Her eyes searched the room for a few moments before landing on the man with the chin dimple, who had his eyes set on the table in front of him. Her eyes widened some, and then she slowly backed out the door. Quinn actually had to leave the room for a few moments to stop from laughing out loud at the poor man. The man left shortly after, his head hanging low in defeat.

Kurt felt bad for him.

When Quinn returned, she pointed out their next target, and he took a quick look at the woman before whispering her made up life story in Quinn's waiting ear.

She giggled and took the cup of coffee from his hand, put a lid on and handed it to a grim-looking man who stood waiting.

"Thank you," he snarled and snatched it from her hands. Apparently in his opinion, they had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they had forgotten that fixing his drink was more important than "silly gossiping".

Quinn shrugged and offered an apologetic smile, while Kurt fled to the back room clutching a hand to his mouth to stop from laughing out loud. This game of theirs usually ended in one of them fleeing from the counter to have a minor break down of sorts in the back room.

When he finally returned, the grumpy man had left and Quinn was currently pouring a cup of black coffee for a middle-aged woman who smiled kindly at Kurt when he reappeared.

"What about that guy?" Quinn mumbled over her shoulder.

"Divorced please-date-me-I'm-lonely," Kurt replied under his breath.

She huffed out a laugh and then handed the coffee to the nice woman with a light "have a nice day".

"By the way, do you have any plans tonight?" Quinn asked and turned to face him. There were no costumers in line, and the only people in the room except for them were two guys sitting at a table mumbling to each other and an old man reading a newspaper.

"Nothing special, I suppose," he said, shrugging. "What about you?"

"I have no plans," she said. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "How about we do something? Watch a movie or something?"

Kurt froze for a moment. Was she asking him out on a date?

He hadn't explicitly told her he was gay, so maybe it shouldn't come as such a surprise.

"I'm gay," he blurted out, his cheeks reddening.

She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at the outburst, and opened her mouth to say something before closing it. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth from letting out a laugh, but it came out anyway.

"Oh, no, I wasn't– I wasn't asking you out or anything. I know you're gay, I just thought we could be friends outside of this dump too," she said, forcing back her laughter when she saw Kurt's face falling. "Not that I wouldn't date you if you were straight, because you're totally hot, but I've seen you checking out guys and you don't even flinch when I change clothes in front of you so I–"

Kurt recovered, although he was still blushing profoundly, and threw his hands up to stop her. "Hey, it's fine, really. I'd love to hang out."

She smiled widely. "Yeah? I thought we could close up a little earlier and get pizza or something–"

"Sounds great," Kurt said, nodding enthusiastically.

He felt silly for assuming it was a date, but the joy he felt at Quinn wanting to be his friend for real was much greater, so he quickly shed those bad feelings like a second skin.

"I have to check with my roommate, though," he said after a moment or two. "She's probably fine with it, but it's just good courtesy to ask first."

"Of course! Why don't you go call her and ask? I'll manage the bar, there's not exactly a line," she said, smiling warmly.

Yes, he was very fortunate that it was this particular shop that had employed him. God knows how miserable he would have been without Quinn's friendly smile brightening up his days.

He gave her cheek a quick peck and pulled out his phone. Already dialing the number, he went to sit at a table and wait for the call to go through.

"Hello, this is Rachel Berry. How may I help you?"

"It's Kurt," he said, smiling at her formal tone.

"Oh, hi Kurt! How are you? Is work going well?"

"It's fine," he said, glancing over at Quinn who shot him an enthusiastic smile. "Look, I was wondering–"

"How is your fairytale going? I'm patiently waiting for good news. Has that Puck guy wheeled you in yet?"

"No, Rachel, he hasn't," he said firmly, praying that his annoyance read through his voice. But the Rachel Berry he knew and had come to love didn't pick up hints that easily. Not even when they were shoved in her face. "Can you please give up this obsessive idea of yours? It's ridiculous. I'm happy as I am, thank you very much."

"Of course you are, but wouldn't you be happier with a super hot piece of man candy on your arm?"

"My god, Rachel, have you been drinking or are you just particularly crazy today?" He rolled his eyes for good measure, even though he knew she couldn't see it.

"I can assure you my sanity is perfectly fine."

"If you say so," he snorted. "But Rachel, I needed to ask you something–"

"Is it about Finn?" she suddenly snapped. "Because we are done and nothing he says will–"

"It's not about Finn," he said tiredly. They had been broken up for six months, but she was still kind of hung up on him, a fact she tried to deny by dating lots of guys in his wake. "Me and a friend from work was–"

"Is the friend your Prince Charming in disguise? If you are asking for permission to have the apartment to yourself to have wild sex with him then yes, Kurt, I would be honored to–"

"Oh my god, Rachel," he almost shrieked, his cheeks flushing. "Her name is Quinn, so that is out of the question. Why does everything always have to be sexual with you?"

He could hear the way it came out before the words slipped out of him, but he didn't realize in time to stop them. Both Quinn and Rachel were giggling at the phrasing, and he turned a deeper shade of humiliation.

"Rachel, can I just– okay? My friend Quinn is coming over for movie night, is that alright? Assuming you can keep your hands off her, that is."

"Well, last time I checked, I was straight, so that won't be an issue."

"With you meddling in my personal life, who knows what crazy ideas you may have in that talented head of yours?"

"True. Very true," she said, laughing. "But in all seriousness, Kurt, you have my blessing. I'll order pizza for three, then?"

"Aren't you staying late?"

"No, I'm feeling pretty tired so I'll head home early, which I will probably pay for for the rest of the week."

"Okay, I'll see you at home, then."

"That you will. And if you were to bring your lover home with you as well, I wouldn't be opposed to taking that girl off your hands to let you two–"

"Rachel, you really need to keep it in your pants. You are out of control," he said, snorting indignantly. He started a little as the bell above the entrance door rang, but knowing it was just a costumer, he didn't even glance up from where he had his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. "Is your sex life so dull you feel the need to meddle with mine?"

"That has nothing to do with this. I want to see you happy, Kurt, and for all we know, that guy is the one," she said with her most innocent voice.

"Oh, you are so not doing this for me, Rachel. It's for you! You just want to– to–"

He trailed off awkwardly, speech suddenly being the very last of his problems, as he had finally glanced up and now found himself staring into a pair of deep, hazel eyes that burned with the force of the sun.

It was a boy, probably around his own age. He stood by the coffee bar a fair distance away, his elbow supported against the counter. His eyes had just been lazily scanning the room until they landed on the boy sitting by himself with a phone pressed to his ear, a frustrated frown gracing his forehead.

He had been watching Kurt for several moments, but Kurt had been too caught up in his phone conversation to notice the eyes staring holes into his skin. Once he looked up and their gazes connected, he was physically unable to look away.

He knew the hand holding his phone had sunk down to rest in his lap, Rachel's voice now only a soft murmur through the device. His eyes were ridiculously wide as he just blankly stared at the other boy.

The boy had turned around again, probably ashamed at having been caught staring, and quickly paid for his coffee before dashing out the door without even looking back. The gentle sound of the bell was drowned out by the door slamming back into its door frame.

Kurt was left staring at the closed door, his eyes almost watering at the effort not to blink.

In his humble lifetime, he had never seen a pair of eyes so vibrant. He couldn't remember anything else about the boy. He couldn't tell if he had been blonde or a brunette or a red head, what height he had been or even if he had been wearing a fancy suit or sweats and a t-shirt.

He wanted to run after him and ask for his name, but how could he possibly find him in the busy streets if all he knew was what his eyes looked like?

He was finally brought back to reality as Quinn came over to him, patting his shoulder gently. "I think your roommate hung up on you."

He flinched at the contact, and made an incoherent sound of frustration as he picked up his phone and saw that the call was indeed disconnected.

Quinn was polite enough not to comment his shaken state, and simply pressed a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Your daily free coffee," she said, and couldn't resist a gentle wink. "Looks like you could need it now."

He nodded distantly, still not fully recovered from what he would later come to refer to as "the moment his world fell apart and in place all at once".

A/N: They finally met! Yay! I'm excited for the actual Klaine to begin, but it can't begin too soon...unfortunately. Oh well! They've met at least!

I love Hummelberry friendship, I can't help it! Even though the canon friendship is generally too focused on Rachel... but they are adorable either way. Sigh.