#waiter!Kurt

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[klaineccfanficlibrary]

It’s A Rich Man’s World

Author:  thatgleekychick

Rating:  T

Status:  Completed in January 2014

Word Count:  48,379

Summary:  What happens when you have everything to gain and even more to lose? When Kurt Hummel, a waiter with dreams of Broadway, meets Blaine Anderson, a NYC stockbroker on his way to the top, the attraction is instant. But they come from two seemingly different worlds. Through each other they learn that there is more than one way to be wealthy, and not all of them involve money.

Tropes/Genre:  Stockbroker!Blaine, wealthy!Blaine, NYC!Klaine, romance, waiter!Kurt, Santana Lopez

Lynne’s review:  I really enjoyed this story. They had a complicated relationship to navigate, but love and trust wins out. Santana is fantastic in this story!

Read at:  AO3

[unfortunately-obsessed]

I watched a walkthrough of This Bed We Made and now I want hotel!au X-Men. Consider them in the 50s as staff??

Xavier very obviously is the manager/owner. Jean as front desk, bright smile when handling guests and welcoming them. Storm as governess. Bobby is bartender on the open bar. I think Scott would be a pretty solid valet (I mean as a the one under butler, not the one that park cars), he's reliable and uptight. Rogue as a secretary, my beloved. Jubilee as a trainee under Jean. Gambit can handle the baggages, he definitely manages to earn tips somehow too. Kitty as the kitchen's student, Forge's the chef. Kurt as a waiter. Dazzler as live performance!! Beast manages the finance? And I think it would be hilarious having Logan as the housekeeping

[enam3l]

Hey, I hope you're okay

I read your post about rockstar! Eddie who hates Tommy Lee, and that made me wonder, which bands do you think Eddie (and the whole corroded coffin) would be friends, like, going to parties, and talking and meeting sometimes

You can ignore this if you want, but I was curious and your writing is so good

Thank you so much! I fuckin love this concept and had a tonne of fun thinking about it. Basically Eddie Munson just loves music and people who love music too. And fyi, he does love Lana. PS: all rockstar eddie munson content can be found under this hashtag if you want to only view that and not just all my eddie munson stuff on the #enam3l x eddie tag

The big one of course is Metallica. The Corroded Coffin boys were never subtle about how much they loved Metallica and how they'd been their teen idols. At Corroded Coffin’s first awards show where enemies were made with Motley Crue, a friendship was also made. Having heard the kind words said about them so often by Eddie and the gang, Metallica made it their mission for the night to introduce themselves. Feeling totally out of place and laughing at how surreal this was, Corroded Coffin were interrupted by a waiter bringing over a bottle of whiskey, a gift from Metallica. The boys were stunned silent. To this day Eddie’s wife says she's never seen him so speechless. The waiter pointed over to a table closer to the stage where Metallica sat and waved. Later, they came over and introduced themselves, complimenting Corroded Coffin for making it in such a difficult scene and without help. From then on a bond existed between the two bands. Metallica acting as mentors for Corroded Coffin and being their support act on multiple occasions. Eddie couldn't believe he had James fucking Hetfield’s number and would often speak to him when things got a bit much and the industry felt like it was crushing him.

Eddie definitely had a kinship with Alice Cooper, the two sitting back and laughing at the madness surrounding them. Both having the same approach to their careers, loving the music and playing up the image but not the gross antics. They both had normal family lives. They were definitely on the same wavelength and stuck with each other at any events and caught up about their wives and kids.

They all enjoyed going to parties with KISS, appreciating the bands theatrics. KISS’s face paint just spoke to their routes in Hellfire.

Mostly Eddie liked hanging with the alternative and indie bands, they weren't as intense and outlandish as the rock scene. Less publicity stunts and sleaze which is what Eddie despised about Motley Crue. Eddie appreciated their musical skill as well as their theatrics and style. Bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus and David Byrne. He admired them from afar and eventually grew to know them and just enjoyed talking about their art together.

And Eddie didn't believe in guilty pleasures. There were plenty of artists you'd never expect him to love and respect. He always thought George Michael was kind and interesting, originally approaching him by mistake at a show thinking he was Steve. Eddie was bummed when George Michael died. Also The B-52s, Eddie loved getting drunk and putting them on. You'd definitely go and see them together and get silly drunk and dance around like teenagers. One of your favourite date nights would be to go to soul or jazz clubs, he liked listening to those kind of records whilst cooking or cleaning.

He was definitely intrigued by the grunge scene in the nineties and helped promote and support it. He thought the guys from Nirvana were the coolest he's ever met and attended Kurt’s funeral. Foo Fighters drummer passed away this year and the rest of the band did a memorial gig with friends from the industry, Eddie would've absolutely been there.

But honestly, one of Eddie’s favourite parts of being famous would be getting to use his connections to introduce you to your favourite musicians and bands. Eddie is absolutely no music snob, open and interested in anything especially when he can see the craft that went into it.

Whatever you or his daughters liked he'd be there front row with them. Maeve his youngest would definitely love Ariana Grande or Lady Gaga and Eddie would take her to every gig, wearing merch too. Eddie Munson would be famously quoted for saying there's nothing more metal than having pipes like Mariah or Ariana. And he fucking clapped like hell at Gaga’s meat dress, he thinks she's fucking cool as shit.

[willgrahamluvr]

Hey tumblr if you like glee and gay people you should read my fanfiction 🤭🤭🤭

My brotherly Furt fic:

“I just thought that she would wait for me.” Finn says. “Like I was waiting for her.”

He and Finn are not biologically related, and that couldn’t be more obvious. But in moments like these, Kurt knows that he and Finn really are family. Because they think the same. And they both care too much about people who don't seem to care back.

Kurt had thought Blaine was waiting for him too.

ANDDDDD MY KLAINE FIC

Kurt Hummel thinks his waiter at a little Westerville restaurant is cute. Unfortunately, so do the girls that are sitting with him. Darn cute straight boys.

Although maybe this waiter isn’t as straight as Kurt assumes.

[baroque-hashem]

Finding out Kurt Vonnegut wasn't Jewish is like finding out your favorite cat is really a dog.

Wtf? I thought he was Jewish? He wrote like a Jew! He thought like a Jew! He even kinda looked Jewish!

I've been betrayed!

Waiter, my check, please!

[klaine-a03-feed]

The woes of Italian restaurants and cute servers!

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/zaYiHUf by RoseTylerLuvr Kurt Hummel thinks his waiter at a little Westerville restaurant is cute. Unfortunately, so do the girls that are sitting with him. Darn cute straight boys. Although maybe this waiter isn’t as straight as Kurt assumes. Words: 1845, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Glee (TV 2009) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry, Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-Chang Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, unspecified time setting, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Silly, Crack Treated Seriously, Short One Shot

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[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I was looking for a fic that I read where Kurt was part Faerie and a waiter in a Cheerio-themed Hooters-style restaurant run by Sue. Blaine came in as a customer - he was a stock broker and very much in the closet to everyone he worked with. Its part of a whole verse which I thought was called the Fey!Verse but I had searched for that and can't find it again on A03.

Here you go. It's available on AO3. - HKVoyage

Fey!Verse by miss_begonia

AU. Kurt is working as a waiter in a cocktail bar. Blaine is about to get picked up, shaken up and turned around.

[kurtsascot]

E, F, M ❤️

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

im not sure if i identify with any characters? it’s not really something that matters to me!!

when i was younger, i tended to morph my personality into those of my favorite characters as i was discovering who i was, but i don’t do that any more.

being a people pleaser i can relate to blaine, but i wouldn’t say that we are alike. aside from you know. a general love for kurt puppet.

F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with your fics?

treading water and klueless both have associated playlists!! i get nervous sharing music related to my writing because i’m not listening to anything incredibly unique and it can make everything feel more personal, but i listen to music as i write, and those two playlists either helped inspire me or, for klueless, get me in the headspace to write.

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

ive def had weird aus in the past but my memory is so bad ..i dont remember what they could have been from previous fandoms.

weirdest scenario is maybe klaine!femboy hooters ?? lol very unlikely to ever get written bc there is No Plot really its just vibes….

the premise was essentially that sebastian was blaines ex and dragged him there as a joke/to show off his new bf, and kurt was blaine’s waiter. and like, femboy!hooters isn’t blaines thing but he keeps coming back because kurts just pretty and hes a good listener. and kurt likes that blaine isnt grossly hitting on him 24/7…. (its essentially an excuse to imagine kurt in glittery eyeshadow….lmao….)

[nicsnort]

Trial by Fire (part 16)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

When Bedelia stepped away to change, Quicksilver’s gaze flickered to her phone. Surely she couldn’t expect him to keep to his seat. He stepped over and managed to open the phone despite the security measures -- they were always far too easy anyway. He looked through her texts and emails, ensuring there were no subtle gestures for help. No, none. She was dull and a modest prisoner. He supposed that was a good thing, though he felt an itch for fun. He returned the phone as it was and sat back down. When she returned, he looked bored until he saw her. His brows raised in surprise as he took in every inch. “Mmm..you wear glasses. Didn’t see that coming.” He stood and let her work with her phone 

They stepped outside together, unaware of the pair of eyes across the street. Logan made a scowl and stepped back, ensuring he was hidden. The stench of Quicksilver was one thing, but to see the punk was another. The girl didn't seem to be in trouble, though. That was promising. 

"One sec," Quicksilver said and disappeared briefly. When he returned, he had sprinkled nails and marbles on the steps. "Just in case some pesky agents drop by. Damn neighborhood kids, never picking up after themselves." He winked before he picked up Bedelia and darted to the cafe.

When Quicksilver spread the nails and marbles on the front stoop, her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. No reason to make him think she did want the agents over. Especially when she knew they were likely to sneak around if they saw any sign of Quicksilver. Though despite herself, she had half a thought that his wink was rather dashing.

Once they were there, he set her down and looked around. He took a table to himself not too far from Bedelia’s and set up a menu to hide. He ordered a sweet tea and sighed, wondering how he was the third wheel -- he would never let the Brotherhood know about this.

Arriving at the cafe, she got a table and saw Quicksilver a few tables away. She texted Kurt to let him know she arrived, and a few minutes later, she saw him entering the cafe. He looked around searchingly, but then Bedelia waved him down. “Sorry,” she told him with a smile as he came over. “I wanted to change my hair closer to my original color. My article might wind me up on the news, so well, you know, normal-ish looks are more professional.”

Kurt was smiling when he approached the table. "I know you told me, but I couldn't picture it until now. You look professional -- and beautiful." He blushed softly. In the back of his head, he could almost hear Logan's voice cautioning him to take it easy, that she was still a suspect. Kurt sat down and took her in. "And very smart." He couldn't help but add.

He was dressed nicely today. Not a sweater vest like last time, but he still had that soft, nerdy look that Bedelia found pleasing to the eye. “Did we find the right book for your friend?”

He brushed his hair behind his ear and gave a weak smile. Rogue had enjoyed it just long enough to have everything crash down on them. "She did! Excellent pick. How have you been? I…" Kurt was grateful for the interruption of the waiter stopping by for drinks. "Water, please." 

A glance around the place showed nothing, no sight of the Brotherhood. "I believe I saw your article this morning." He wasn't sure how to balance this. "It...it was shocking. Well written but so...alarming. It has stoked a fire under...many people." 

Bedelia ordered water as well. The turn to her article froze her smile just a bit. “Ah, yes,” she replied softly, “I was wondering if you had. I was a bit worried if you did, you wouldn’t come either because you see me as reckless or because you disagree with my support of mutants.”

She laughed awkwardly. “You are on the side of mutants in this article, right?”

Kurt could feel sweat start to drop down his back. Oh, mutants? Yeah, he guessed he enjoyed them. You know, since he was one under this disguise. Blue and fuzzy, not pale and smooth. But if she was with the Brotherhood? "I think everyone's job has risks to it. You are very brave, Bedelia. And, of course, I am on the side of the mutants." 

If only she knew how much so. He and the X-Men would travel to Genosha in the next few days. He felt his throat threaten to close and cleared it. "I wanted to congratulate you on your writing." He glanced at the menu. "Have you been here before?" His voice creaked a bit. 

No signs of the Brotherhood yet. The waiter stopped by to place a basket of garlic bread and two glasses of water before them.

At hearing that he was on the mutant’s side, at least in this instance, Bedelia smiled. Good, she wouldn’t tolerate flirting with someone who wasn’t supportive of mutants. She could stand some political differences but not one like that. “I have been a few times. This place is good for coffee and meals, so I sometimes meet with people I will interview or contact for information here.”

Bedelia took a bit of garlic bread and ripped off a bit to pop in her mouth. “I came here as a kid a few times, so there are some nice memories too.”

Kurt copied her by taking a piece of garlic bread and a bite. He brushed away some crumbs and felt his tail swish behind him, an action he stopped lest something 'magically' fall. "You grew up around here? That's impressive. I have never stayed in a place longer than a few years."

When the waiter came, he ordered the spaghetti and meat sauce with a salad, figuring it was a safe bet. He gave the menu back and smiled at Bedelia. 

Bedelia ordered the Penne pasta with white sauce and handed over her menu. Her eyes moved to Quicksilver - just a bit curious to see how many baskets of garlic bread the speedster had eaten. If there was any she had learned over the past day or so, it was that Pietro required a lot of energy to keep going. Though she was also trying to see how closely he was paying attention. Luckily it seemed he was still going over the menu...she had told him she would foot the bill, but hopefully, he would be reasonable.

“Yes, I grew up in Brooklyn; my parents were immigrants. I think, like many people who grow up in NYC, I couldn’t live anywhere else. So are you around here? I hope I didn’t make you travel too far if you live uptown.”

Kurt felt a kinship with Bedelia just then at hearing her parents had been immigrants. Surely she, too, could pick up on that, given his noticeable accent. “Ah, I see, so bravery runs in your family then -- to go to an unknown, new place and make a home out of it takes a lot of nerve. Es wird nicht leichter. Du wirst stärker. It doesn’t get easier; you just get stronger.” He took a drink of his water, his stomach full of butterflies.

Bedelia raised a glass in salute. Indeed, that was true for all hardships of life. 

“I live outside the city but am in town when I can be. It’s got its own life.” He agreed with her. “I enjoy being near people, in a way. I grew up with a...large extended family, and I find that I did not always cherish the feeling of being with others as I should have. But, I was young.” 

“Ah, opposite of me then,” she told him with a smile. “Despite my Irish and Catholic roots, my family was fairly small. I have some family in Ireland, but my parents were the only ones that came here, so I grew up without my extended family...I was always personable, but with my job, it can be hard to form attachments at times. Always on the move, looking for the next story. Most of the people I know are contacts for my job. I am a bit of a workaholic.” 

Bedelia chuckled just a bit, and a blush came to her face. “Would it be weird to say you were the first person I gave my card to that I didn’t want a story from?”

Kurt had to admit that was uncommon for an Irish family to be so small. At least, that was what he figured, given the few Irish performers he met in the traveling circus, the ones who worked and sent most of their money home to feed several mouths of siblings. “That can be hard,” he mused, “you don’t find that you have any...ah, groups or roots? In any large groups of people?” Like the Brotherhood, he wondered. He was trying to gauge who she was. 

He found his face a bit warm as well at her shy remark. “No, no, not weird at all -- actually I’m very, ah, very...flattered by that, thank you.” He hoped she wasn’t with the Brotherhood. He hoped she was being held hostage -- he could save her, help her. Just...how to ask without tipping his hand entirely?

His face warming at her words made Bedelia blush just a bit deeper. He thought she was weird now, didn’t he? Bedelia replied to his previous question to bring it back to a better topic. “Not really. I have the journalists guild I am a part of, and I suppose a few of my neighbors. My parents passed away, so…” Bedelia shrugged with a slight sadness on her face. “After they died, I was focused on school and my career...sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

Sympathy darkened Kurt’s gaze. “I am sorry to hear of your loss. I never knew my parents, my birth parents, I mean, but I know there is a void in one’s life from them. The woman I knew as a mother is still on this earth though we do not talk to one another as much as we should.” The other part of him reminded himself that Bedelia could be dangerous. “Having a group of people, such as your journalist's guild, is vital in life, though. For example, if you ever needed help...you could turn to them.” He wanted to see if she’d react. The food was placed before them, and he thanked the waiter after a modest amount of grated cheese. 

The mention of turning to others for help made Bedelia’s smile freeze just a bit. Unwilling, her eyes flashed in the direction of Quicksilver - this time, a hint of fear and worry in them. The food arrived, allowing her to put back on the mask. Enjoy this time. Bedelia carefully eyed Pietro again, trying to make her worried glances look casual. Oh, that fucking ass. He had gotten the expensive 50-dollar “Tour of Italy” dish with a half serving of all their pasta. Quickly she looked back at Kurt and smiled. “So, coming to the US, have you explored the foods at all?”

“This looks great.” Kurt smiled and took a bite, mindful of any mess he might make. At least it wouldn’t get stuck in his fur in this disguise. “I have! A few friends and I have gone to some of the ‘best places’ for food. We have tried Chinese, Italian, American... I have discovered a great deal of fat and salt, not that I complain when I have it...and Texmex.” He thought it best not to mention that they got this food by flying the Blackbird to and fro. 

“We,” Bedelia questioned, taking a bite of her pasta. “Ah, your fellow secret agents, right?” She laughed. “Good, I’ve met some immigrants who don’t eat much more than they would find in their home countries. I love Italian, but there is this amazing Ramen place in Chinatown. If you were ever interested in visiting, I could show you.” 

There we go, setting up the possibility of another date. “I’ll be a bit busy with the fallout from this article, but perhaps in a few days or a week...hopefully, I’ll have more time to myself and fewer eyes on me constantly.” Again in her eyes, just a hint of the truth, a plea.

Kurt was enjoying the taste of the hot, homemade food -- he could tell the pasta was recently made, something about it was just fresh -- but he hadn’t been so deep into it to miss how Bedelia’s eyes flickered away. He blinked. Then he gave a weak laugh at her remark -- ah yes, secret agents, not at all entirely wrong. 

“Ramen? I would enjoy that. It’s hard to find good ramen. I’ve had it once in...California.” It was in the Chinatown in Cali, but it had been uniquely California-style. “I’d like to try New York’s Chinatown version.” He tried to keep making small talk. 

He wasn’t entirely comfortable, though. There was something off. He could hear the other side of him, the warnings that this might be all a setup. But something told his gut that this couldn’t be the case. He opened his mouth, just about to make the plunge, to ask a bold question, when suddenly…

“Ahh!” A sharp shout left the waiter beside him as he tripped, feeling a distinct pressure against his calf as he fell forward. The plate of cheese sticks and marinara sauce flew from his grasp up in the air and then showered over Kurt. Thankfully the sauce wasn’t as hot as it may have been.

Still,  it covered Kurt -- fell on his head, clothes, forearm, and lap. He stood up with a shout and processed what had just happened. The waiter stood and apologized profusely, offering him several cloth napkins.

Kurt would have been calm, even laughed it off, if he wasn't aware of a distinct sensation of sauce on his wrist. The wrist which held his inducer. He gasped and wiped quickly at his wrist with a napkin, his heart pounding. If it malfunctioned? But it didn’t -- yet. He offered a shaky smile to Bedelia as the waiter promised a free meal, free dessert, free anything. “I always seem to get my clothes stained with you.” He told Bedelia shakily.

The sudden introduction of Kurt’s clothes to the sauce caused Bedelia to jump out of her chair. She grabbed one of the napkins offered by the waiter and began to dab at the sauce on Kurt’s shoulder. It was probably too late, it was a light-colored shirt. She saw him more concerned over his watch and glanced down at it. Bedelia had never seen a watch like that before. Perhaps it was a German brand she was unfamiliar with. It looked very futuristic.

“Yes, I suppose you do. Hopefully, you don’t think I’m bad luck,” she tried to joke. Her eyes flashed again over to Pietro but saw he wasn’t there. For a moment, her heart stopped. Where was he? Bedelia’s head snapped towards the front, hearing a cackle of laughter. There Pietro was...laughing...oh...that asshole.

“Is your watch alright,” Bedelia asked as the initial panic and hurry calmed. “It looks very unique.”

Outside of the restaurant laughed Quicksilver, his arms around his side as he cackled. That made the whole stupid date worth it, he thought, to see how that played out. His phone buzzed with a message. Magneto wanted to see the journalist.

Kurt felt a hot wash of unease and worry travel over him. He wasn’t sure if the inducer had glitched or, worse, what she might do if it did. If she were part of the Brotherhood, she’d know it was him...confirm it. But then, if she wasn’t and didn’t like his true self? Oh boy. He gave a small chuckle and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the laughter he heard from afar. 

“No, no, you’re not. It’s uh, it makes for a funny story.” He waved his arm, hoping to dry out any possible damage the sauce may have done to his watch. “It’s alright,” it sounded more like a prayer, “it’s alright. Thank you for your help...uh, perhaps next time we can...try something not-food related?” There was the briefest glitch, so quick that a blink would have hidden it. “I’m sorry that this was...more fun than either of us expected. But, let’s break that from happening again before it becomes a pattern.” He laughed softly. 

From outside, Quicksilver glanced at his phone. The amused mood he found himself in was over too soon. He sighed and slid the phone back into his pocket. He opened the door and stepped in, raising his arm to wave and signal Bedelia that it was time to leave. Like, now.

And that was when he swore. He swore he saw...a flash of blue under that red-stained outfit…

“Right, not ramen,” Bedelia replied with a slight chuckle. There was a slight hitch in the chuckle when his form blinked - like a skip in a disk - for just a moment. She must have been seeing things. “Perhaps a walk in the park or a movie? It's been a while since…”

Her words trailed off as she saw the silver-haired man wave at her. Bedelia froze for half a second. “I…” She shook her head to clear it. Then made a show of checking her phone. “Sorry, I need to go. I need to check in with one of my sources.”

Bedelia pulled out some cash and set it on the table enough to cover both meals. “That should be enough.” A small part of her wanted to say something else. A small part of her wanted to think that he had dropped a few hints and knew something might be wrong with her. But she couldn’t risk pulling in an innocent, could she?

It was on the tip of Kurt’s tongue to say the park sounded great when Bedelia suddenly changed topics. His focus snapped, and he struggled to find the right words. “W-wait, hold on!” He turned as she started to leave, his mind racing. His inducer glitched for a moment again. It was now or never. “I…”  But what could he say? ‘I can help’? Help with what? Just as he turned to face her, or where she should have been, he froze.

Bedelia was gone.

_____

Next

Fanfic Masterlist

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xiii}

FINALLLY AN UPDATE HAHAHAHUHUHUHU I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG CUZ OF THAT THERE WILL BE 2 CHAPTERS TODAY!

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Additionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warning: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION IS IN THE ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 12 is already a full-blown deer Chapter 13 is a newborn fawn

word count: 3.9k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Clare *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know (except you DO know #wreckthe4thwall)

♪Sino ang mag-aakalang mahal kita Sino ang maglalahad ng nadarama♪

♪Bakit hindi alam kung bakit Laging sa akin lumalapit Kahit minsan ako'y nagkulang♪

He doesn’t understand the song, yet for some reason he can relate to it as much as the next foreigner.

Court finds interest in the memphis-patterned wall when you turn away from the counter and stroll to the booth he’s taken. The two of you are in a coffee shop less than a 3-minute drive from the subdivision, you lead them here after you asked if you and Court can talk. The coffee shop is inside a residential area, which Court actually has a room rented as one of their nearby hideouts. Claire is still asleep in the backseat of the car, which is parked right outside of the cafe; he left it locked and running since he has a spare key.

While you ordered warm drinks for the two of you, Court assesses the vicinity. It’s small, up to 20 customers will fit, with 3 tables for two, 2 booths for four, and a counter-table good for four by the window. Two ways in and out. When he has concocted enough shootout scenarios and possible escape plans, his eyes land on you like a rocket to the moon.

You’re still in your thigh-high white socks and black jeans-shorts, except you unfolded the hem to dangle the methodical loose threads. You have switched your white shoes for pink high Chucks and the brown collared-shirt for a peach sweatshirt.

How you look two times younger than your age isn’t what astounds Court. It’s your sprightly hair free from the usual ponytail or braids you always tie it into. He hasn’t seen your untied hair in a while, making him recall that you haven’t been to their house since you began dating Erick. For the reason being Court’s douchey decisions in putting a raincheck on the Friday movie nights.

A forest fire is starting in his chest at the thought of Erick having the privilege to see you out of your cafe uniform every time he wants.

Erick gets to contact you and hang out with you without resistance.

Erick gets to run his hands through your hair while Court sits back and watches like the fool he is.

He gets to take you home or to his place and—

“Hey? Kurt!”

Court blinks, reeling out of his dangerous spiraling stupor, he looks at you and takes the gander. “What is it?”

“You’ve been staring at me for almost two minutes,” you say, stifling a grin.

The wildfire in his chest springs up to his cheeks, he stammers an apology and looks at anywhere but you. A waiter approaches the booth, serving a yellow mug to you and a red mug to Court. “We’ll be behind the counter if you two need anything,” he says and takes his bouncy leave.

“I ordered chai tea latte for both of us,” you lift the mug up, “This is one of the drinks I know you like.”

“Well, I like your blend.” he blurts out, bringing the mug up to his lips, he imagines smacking the mug against the top of his head.

You smile. “Let’s have a taste of their blend, shall we?”

The two of you sip simultaneously, extracting the mug from your lips, you and Court exchange looks. Taking another sip at the same time for confirmation, you lower the mug to the table and sigh.

“Too much milk,” you and Court quietly comment.

Astonishment shortly blooms across your faces before amusement cracks it and the two of you share a laugh. For the next few minutes, the two of you decide to sit in silence and enjoy what you can from the drink.

Court can’t help but think how nice this is. It’s blissful (euphoric, even) to be with you like this.

And it scares him.

No matter how much he wants these moments with you, his inner demons stab his heart relentlessly as punishment and reminder that he doesn’t deserve it—

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Where were you two going?” your sweet-voiced inquiry swats the demons away, and when he makes eye contact with you, his stab wounds have healed.

There’s no point in lying and dragging this infighting out too much.

“To the cafe,” Court pauses, “Because I wanted to see you.”

 You’re stunned.

Court sighs. “I wanted to talk to you, too.”

You’re— whatever is the next adjective to stunned. But simultaneously, you’re relieved.

“That’s.. good.” you breathe out, chuckling.

“Let me apologize first for my attitude these past weeks.” he looks you in the eye, “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

Your heart flutters, not in a way that should be when someone is asking for your forgiveness . “Apology half-accepted,” you grin, “I’ll accept it wholeheartedly if you increase your tips in the cafe.”

His jaw drops, and if you two were a cartoon, it would’ve dropped on the table and knocked his drink off.

“I’m kidding,” you announce, somehow not reassuringly. “And I’m sorry, too, for being snobbish recently.”

“It’s okay,” says Court, sipping on his drink. “Anyway.. you should talk first.”

You nod, gathering your courage with a collective breath in and out. “Alright… Why have you been avoiding me?” you inquire, brows knotted solemnly.

Now it’s Court’s turn to gather his courage. Inhaling and exhaling through his nose, Court musters an abundance of bravery to hold your gaze.

“You have a boyfriend.”

Huh?

You blink at him, dumbfounded. "What does that have to do with anything?" you ask amusedly.

"Everything." Court heavily emphasizes and sighs, "Look, (Y/N), Claire doesn't have a lot of friends and she considers you to be one. But hanging out with her means you'll hang out with me. And I'm pretty sure your boyfriend won't approve."

You frown. "One, he's not my boyfriend, we're just dating. Two, he doesn't give a flying shit about it after a talk we had."

Court huffs. "Well, if you were dating me, I'd give a flying shit about you hanging out with some guy."

For a second, the whole world is quiet. Until the next song gently oozes out of the speakers.

♪Dami pang gustong sabihin Ngunit 'wag na lang muna Hintayin na lang ang hanging Tangayin ang salita♪

You look at Court, who’s looking back just as shocked as you. If not, even more shocked and positively horrified at his subconscious.

“I-I me-mean if I,” he clears his throat, “If I was dating someone, and they were friends with a person they appear very close to, I’d give a shit in a cautious way. I don’t mean to sound possessive or anything, but like, I’d care about who they’re friends with.. okay?”

You’re quiet for several seconds, sipping on your drink before you reply. “Erick cares.. he confessed about being skeptical towards our friendship. But after our talk, he’s okay with you and I—”

His self-control is slipping.

“—and Claire.”

Slipping very fast now.

“... That way, it’s the three of us against the world.”

“Glad to know that,” Court nods and swigs on his drink.

“So,” you trail off, smiling sheepishly. “Are we okay?”

We will be if we just be together.

Court finally imprisons his talkative subconscious. “Yeah, we’re okay.” he answers with a crooked smile.

You narrow your eyes at him, and without warning, you slide out of the booth, stand at his side, and collar him. “Don’t lie to me,” you coldly say, leaning down to threateningly place your face half a ruler away.

The look of terror on his face isn’t from the abrupt invasion of privacy or your cute attempt to be hostile; instead, Court is terrified you’ll read his mind being this up close to him.

Six inches.. your face, your nose, your lips— they’re just six inches away. And six inches is awfully close proximity.

Just as his body begins to move without permission, thankfully you stand upright with a wolfish grin. “Was I menacing enough?”

Court breathes out a laugh, but it’s actually a puff of relief. “Would you like me to be brutally honest?”

“As long as it’s constructive,” you quip, sitting back down across him.

A light bulb pops in his mind and breaks, the light flickering challengingly as he considers the idea. “Okay, well, point to you for the demeanor. It’s very icy. And the way you hold the gaze unblinking, plus the way you take up the space are double points.” says Court, “But of course, being in close quarters with the enemy could leave you vulnerable. So.. best be careful with face-to-face threatening tactics.”

You’re open-mouthed, yet simultaneously amused as a grin tweaks up the corners of your lips. “Were you, like, a secret agent before your graphic designing era?”

His rigid shoulders loosen when he shrugs. “I just like secret agent movies.” he declares nonchalantly.

Part lie, part truth…

“Oh, yeah? What’s your favorite?”

“Woah, that’s tough, but..” Court scratches his head, “I’ll go with Spy.”

“Spy, 2015? The one with Melissa McCarthy?” you question with eyes about to burst with glitter.

Court grins. “And with Miranda Hart, Rose Byrne, Jason Statham, and—”

“Jude Law!” you finish his sentence with him, though you’re more enthusiastic than he is. “If there’s an action/comedy film that I would sleep with, Spy would be that movie. I am crazy in love with it!”

“Better not let your boyfriend know that,” he snickers.

You scoff. “Like he’ll complain when he’s getting some.”

The universe may as well be positively against Courtland Gentry. Because he’s in the middle of drinking from his chai tea latte when you explicitly hinted that you’re having sex with the guy you’re dating.

Court feels as though the warm drink has become sentient and decides not to meet its maker, slapping his throat with the force of 500 pounds in the attempts to escape the esophagus. He coughs horribly, facing away from you, he covers his mouth with his arm.

“Are you okay?” you worriedly ask, jumping out of the booth, you stand beside him. “Kurt, are you okay? You sound asphyxiated.”

“I’m—” Court is cut off by another fit of cough.

You’re careful when you reach to soothe and pat his back, while your other hand gently grips on his shoulder. Court can’t focus on your hands on him at first, that’s why he’s slightly thankful that he’s still recovering from choking. But as his bodily reflex begins calming down, Court wonders if you’ll stay this close to him if he pretends.

However, self-control gets the best of him.

Breathing out a sigh, he composes himself and looks up at you. “Thanks, (Y/N).. I’m fine now.” he says and absentmindedly pats your hand on his shoulder. He is quick to realize it, freezing up in the process, leaving his hand atop yours.

“You sure? Can I get you anything?” you question, scrutinizing him from crown to toe.

Court snaps out of his daze, pats your hand again, and reluctantly puts his hand down. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m fine.” he replies with a smile, “And you’ve done enough.”

“Okay.. well,” you slowly pull away from him, “what happened?”

“I think my drink has a grudge on me.”

“What, for consuming it?”

“Something like that.”

“I should be careful with mine, then.”

You return to your seat, glancing out of the cafe, you trace swirling patterns on your plain yellow mug. “You two can go home, you know.. I’ll stay for a bit.”

Court furrows his brows. “Why?— Oh, okay..”

“No, I’m not meeting Erick if that’s what you’re thinking.” you lightly kick his leg.

“Oh…” he tries not to look too happy, “Well, then, I’ll just go check up on Cl— Kiara.”

“Okay! See if she’s awake and hungry.”

Court exits the coffee shop, taking a furtive gander of the block, he unlocks the SUV and hops in. “Claire, wanna go home?” he looks over to the backseat, locking the doors.

She groans. “What’re you talking about? I am home.” and rolls over, smushing her face into the seat.

Court reaches over to see if her seatbelt is secured, and even pokes her shoulder for good measure that she’s deeply in slumber.

“She thinks she’s sleeping at home, so..” he announces when he enters back in the cafe, sidling across from you.

You chuckle. “Really, Kurt, you don’t have to accompany me.”

“Yeah, but I’d love to be with you,” Court internally punches himself across the face. He proceeds to clarify himself, “To accompany you. I mean, we are friends, right? Friends.. do that, accompany each other and shit.”

You smile, the kind that you’re trying to suppress as you’re simultaneously amused yet elated. “Yeah.. and shit,” you say, blissfully looking at him as though you’re about to ask him to marry you.

Court vanquishes the ludicrous thoughts away, slowly finishing his chai tea latte, which now appears menacing for a warm drink. He feels the sweat oozing out the top of his head when you stay silent while you drink, eyeing the coffee shop’s ornaments. You’re beginning to keep your thoughts to yourself. He sees them dancing around your eyes, but he’s not a mindreader; just a guy who would love for you to share your thoughts.

 It then hits him like a ten-wheeler truck— horn blaring, bones rupturing, realizing death is happening in just a snap— you’re always the one leading the conversation. During your first moments together, even during the walkie-talkie nights; he’s always waiting for you to say something. Granted, it’s due to his inept social skills, plus he doesn’t want to say anything wrong to you. That’s why he keeps quiet.

But not tonight.

He concludes it’s high time he acts like a man and takes the lead.

“So, what’s your favorite moment in Spy?” Court asks.

The thoughts in your eyes become lively, like celestial bodies showing off in a cloudless starry night. “Is answering.. every moment in Spy is my favorite moment too superfluous?” you ask back with a grin.

“If you put it like that, yeah.”

You laugh— the good kind of laugh.

The laugh that says ‘I’m comfortable with you, and I hope you’re comfortable with me too’.

The laugh that would’ve shot chai tea out of your nose if you had been drinking when he responded.

The laugh that Court wishes he can hear every day.

It’s the most genuine laugh he has heard from you yet. Court wonders if you laugh with Erick like this as well.

This is bad.

Even though it feels right and gives you ecstasy, this is bad.

By this, you mean you and Court— hanging out. It's the first time in a while that you two get to talk, but this is the first time you two talked like this in person. Typically, your conversations with Court occur through radio waves. 

That's what made you overlook the situation. The familiarity and comfort. Conversations with Court have always made you feel at ease.

If you're honest, the situation is innocent.

But if you're being more honest, the situation is wrongful.

Because you're starting to realize something you shouldn't. Feeling something you don't know is possible.

And it scares you.

You can't think of any reasons why— why and how it's possible. And that wreaks havoc in your brain as you try to ponder thoroughly about it.

You swirl the drink in your mug by lightly shaking it around. You watch the remaining liquid dance as an excuse to take your eyes off Court. He just asked you when was the last time you went to an amusement park (context: you two were fangirling about the Final Destination franchise).

"I guess.. 7 years?" you chuckle, "My parents surprisingly know I love amusement parks and decide we go to Universal Studios Japan after my graduation."

“I’ve been there once,” he pauses, averting his gaze just as a vivid memory flickers in it. “Ten years ago.”

You open your mouth to probe, but he beats you to it. “I thought you hadn't traveled to another country before?” he inquires puzzledly.

“Well, that was more like visiting Japan, not really my definition of traveling.” you shrug.

“And how was the USJ for you and your family?”

You try to search his eyes, finding no evidence of the memory he just recalled, you yield and recall your own memory of the popular theme park. “Shockingly, we had fun together. It was a rare blue moon event.” you snicker, “We even rode The Flying Dinosaur, which just opened that year, ten times in 1 day.”

Court stays silent, waiting for you to add on either the theme park or your family, but you’re not ready. And you’re certain he’s not ready to hear your family drama yet.

“Sorry,” he says suddenly.

You furrow your brows. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I didn’t intend for this conversation to involve your family. You told me once that you didn’t want me to feel bad about telling you anything about me.. and I’d like to say the same to you right now.” Court scratches the back of his head, “I mean.. am I right to think that your family is a sensitive topic?”

“Yeah, they are.. and you’re right. But don’t worry, you didn’t make me feel bad or anything.” you reply with a smile.

“Really?”

“Really.. I’m okay.”

“But your eyes say you’re not.”

You’re astonished. True, any memory or mentions of your family showers you with melancholy; but you did not think you’re showing it explicitly. Because you know you aren’t, yet Court manages to see through your defenses.

“What are you, a psychiatrist?” you nervously laugh, “Okay, okay, here’s a more honest answer.. I’m partly okay and you’re not the reason why I’m not fully okay.”

“But I’m the reason why you’re only partly okay in the first place. I triggered that.” Court frowns.

“Susmaryosep—” you reach over and flick him on the forehead, “Now you’re being more of a drama queen than my inner self. I’m partly okay, Kurt, and I’ll be fully okay once I’ve stabilized my emotions. Stop blaming yourself when I’m already assuring you that you did not hurt me.”

He gawks at you, shocked at your formidability, and you flick him on the forehead again before sitting back down. “Sheesh, is extreme affirmation and a forehead flick your love language?” you grumble, taking a swig of your chai tea latte.

If your exasperation has a form, it would be pops of firecrackers effusing out the top of your head.

Before Court can apologize again, the waiter approaches your booth and informs the two of you that the coffee shop will close in 20 minutes. “Ay sige, ubusin lang namin ito tapos labas na kami. Pasensya na, napatagal kami,” you reply to the waiter with a sheepish smile.

Oh okay, we’ll just finish this and then we’ll go out. Pardon us for taking too long,

“Okay lang po! Sana nag-enjoy naman po kayo sa stay niyo rito!” he beams and whisks back to the counter.

It’s alright! I hope you two enjoyed your stay here!

You whisper to Court to quickly finish your drinks, which is done in less than thirty-seconds, and wait for a minute before skedaddling out of the cafe.

The late-September air attempts to overwhelm you with its chilly embrace, but you’re protected by the remaining warmth of your deceased chai tea latte. You check your things and head to your motorcycle, Court trails after you silently. And when you halt, he halts.

“You know.. if you waited three more years, we might’ve run into each other at USJ.” you quip with a toothy grin, “Who were you with, if I may ask?”

He has trouble looking straight at you as he answers. “Uh.. just some old friends.”

“No lovers?” you tease.

“None,” he shortly laughs, looking straight at you, and now you’re the one having trouble looking at him.

“Well, thank you for accepting my offer and talking it out with me tonight.” you unlatch your helmet from the luggage rack, turning to Court, you smile brightly at him. “Have a good night, Kurt.”

“Don’t you,” he pauses when he sounds too hasty, “Don’t you want to stay the night at our place? It’s almost midnight.”

You hold the ‘yes’ captive in your throat. “No, it’s fine.. the drive home for me will be fast at this time.” you reply with a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a game of DOS before bed?” Court quips awkwardly.

You laugh. “I’m sure you’ll regret that offer if I beat your ass in DOS.”

The two of you share a laugh, lively sounds mingling and ringing together into one, floating up to the twinkling stars behind the dark clouds. Once the cosmos has been fed by your and Court’s laughter, the two of you stare at each other— you instantly lose track of time at that moment.

You don’t know how, you don’t know why. But those findings somewhat don’t matter because right now, it’s just you and Court.

Except it shouldn’t be.

Because there’s no you and him.

In that sudden realization, you’re the first to snap back to reality. “Say good night to Kiara for me!” you say in a mixture of exclamation and yelping. You put on your helmet, straddle the motorcycle, and boots the stand-up.

“Y-Yeah, I will.” says Court.

You give him a thumbs up. “Alright, good night to you as well, Kurt!” and twist the keys in the ignition.

You’re the first to drive out of the small residential village, halting a few feet away from the highway, and Court rests to your right, lowering the driver window. “Are you sure I can’t at least drive you home?” he inquires with a worried frown.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you chuckle, “Good night, Kurt!”

Looking from left to right, you urge your ride into the highway. You forcefully focus your mind on the drive, because it keeps flashing memories of tonight like a broken record.

Just as you assured Court, you arrive at your apartment in no time. You fish out your phone, call the latest contact on the call list, and grab a pitcher of water from the fridge. The recipient doesn’t answer. After drinking a glass of water, you call again.

[“Hello?”] he groggily answers, probably with both eyes closed.

“Erick, hi, sorry.” you pause, “It’s me, (Y/N).”

[“(N/N)? Babe, why are you calling at midnight? Did your pumpkin explode?”]

“It’s more of the mice literally speaking,” you jokingly say and sit down, lowering your forehead to the edge of the table.

[“Are you okay? Did something crazy abnormal happen to you?”] Erick questions worriedly.

“No, but… Yes, I guess?— I just.. I need to talk to you.”

[“You sound serious. Wanna meet up now?”]

“No, I… I need some time to think.”

He deeply breathes in and out. [“Whatever that is.. it sounds like you made your mind about it already.”]

You stammer. “What do you mean?”

[“C’mon, (N/N).. I’ve known you, what, three years? Albeit, intermittently and through Muro,”] Erick snickers, [“So if you say you’ll be thinking about it, you probably thought about it for a while and finalizing it right now. Plus, we’ve been dating for a month.. that’s enough to know someone.”]

Sitting upright,  you breathe out a laugh. “Why do you sound so wise?”

[“Because I’ve always been, doy!”]

“Erick.. can we meet up tomorrow for lunch?”

[“Sure! At the cafe?”]

“I’ll text you the details in the morning. Sorry for calling you abruptly at this hour.”

You can imagine the boyish smile on his smile as he replies. [“It’s alright, babe. See you tomorrow?”]

“See you tomorrow..”

A/N: got nothing except HOPE YOU ENJOY AND CONTINUE STAYING TUNE &lt;;<<333 i am so so very very sorry for not updating in a very long while INTERNSHIP IS A HELLISH YET FUN JOURNEY

The key to Chapter 14 is itself

✨TAGLIST✨

@kat-thepoet @queenofhellhasrisen @sierrasixswife @vallyb @lyuir @yvxcy @justareaderdude @sortingharryshairclip

[forabeatofadrum]

Hmm.. I'm always so happy when I win, but then I realise I never know what to prompt lol

I'm gonna do the same for you as I did for @rockitmans and pick three small prompts from @caramelcoffeeaddict's Klaine prompt gdoc for you to choose your favourite from ;)

You’re always seated in my section of the diner and one day you look really sad so I brought you a free dessert to cheer you up

You’re the doctor explaining my surgery to me and I have no clue what you’re saying because I’m too mesmerized by how attractive you are

Someone stole my lunch out of the fridge in the teacher’s lounge, so you offer to share yours with me.

Just half an hour ago, I told myself I'd finish this fic and then I was struck by inspiration, so here we are!

I love all these prompts, but I am besotted with no. 1 so here we go. Gwen, I am blanking on a title though, so please, help me out, so that I can post it together with the two other fics and then it'll be my 69th work in the Glee fandom on AO3 (nice). I mean, I can post them separately, but do it for the 69!

***

Kurt doesn't love working at the Spotlight Diner. It's a survival job for him, Santana and Rachel. Luckily, there's always some good things to be found. He likes that he gets to sing and people genuinely seem to enjoy it. And he also has some loyal customers that always sit in his section. His favourites are two elderly women who tip heavily, and Eyebrows.

Eyebrows is an attractive guy who dresses neatly and he has a warm smile. He's always incredibly kind towards Kurt and his colleagues and yes, okay, Kurt might have a small crush on him. But Kurt needs to be professional. That's why he's never asked for Eyebrows's name. Santana came up with Eyebrows as a placeholder, to Kurt's dismay. She named him after his triangle shaped eyebrows.

Kurt has another shift, but to his surprise, Eyebrows shows up. He usually never shows up on Monday evenings. Something else is off.

“Eyebrows looks sad.”

“Do not call him Eyebrows, Santana!” Kurt hisses, but his friend is right, because Eyebrows looks like he’s been crying.

Santana covertly nods towards Eyebrows.

“Talk to him.”

Kurt hesitates. Eyebrows looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered. Kurt tells Santana that, but she rolls her eyes.

“He’s gone to a public diner and you’re his waiter,” she points out. She has a point. Kurt does have to serve him.

Then he has a small idea. Kurt rushes to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Kurt walks towards Eyebrows, holding a small sundae. It’s not much, but it’s all he could get. Gunther definitely doesn’t approve of giving freebies, even to loyal customers.

“Here,” Kurt puts the sundae on the table.

Eyebrows was hiding his head in his hands, so he is startled. He looks up to see Kurt. Eyebrow’s eyes are gorgeous, even when they’re filled with tears, which is kind of a weird thing to think. But Eyebrows is gorgeous!

“You probably need it,” Kurt shoves the sundae closer to Eyebrows. He gives him a comforting smile.

Eyebrows’s looking at Kurt as if he was sent from the heavens above.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks. It's definitely a rhetorical question. Eyebrows look far from okay.

So Kurt isn't surprised when Eyebrows shakes his head.

"Do you, uh, want to order or do you want to talk?" Kurt asks. Gunther would scold Kurt for taking more time, but Eyebrows might need him and Kurt doesn't mind talking to him.

"I... got fired from my dream job."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Eyebrows looks like he's about to burst into a fresh round of tears, but he does pick up the spoon. Kurt sees that as a win. While Eyebrows shoves ice cream into his mouth, he tells Kurt about what happened. Kurt listens attentively and makes affirming noises every now and then. It does sound terrible. Eyebrows was on Broadway. He was going to write music for a show, but due to "creative differences", he was let go. Kurt also dreams of going to Broadway, so he's crushed on Eyebrow's behalf.

By the time the sundae is gone, the story is over. Eyebrows looks calmer.

"Sorry for unloading that all on you."

"It's fine, I get it."

"You do?"

Kurt then tells Eyebrows about his Broadway dreams. Unlike Eyebrows, he never realised them (although Eyebrow's dreams aren't coming true either now), but he understands the wish to make it on in the Broadway scene. He went to NYADA, for Christ's sake, and he's still a waiter with a lot of student debt.

"So, truly. I don't mind."

Eyebrows laughs awkwardly.

"Thanks. I needed it. The venting and the sundae. How much do I pay for it?"

"It's on the house," Kurt quickly reassures him.

Eyebrows is radiating gratitude.

"The usual?" Kurt then asks.

"Yes, please."

--

The next day, Eyebrows appears again. He looks happy. Kurt tells him that when he greets him.

"I am!" Eyebrows sounds exhuberant, "I got my job back."

"Really?"

"Yes! Some other people in the creative team disagreed and they fought the decision and apparently the person who fired me didn't even discuss it with the others. Now his position is being questioned! My role might change a little bit, but I am back on board."

"Eyebrows, that's amazing!" Kurt says and in his excitement, he doesn't realise he called Eyebrows Eyebrows.

"... Eyebrows?"

Kurt, embarrassed, explains the context. Luckily, Eyebrows laughs and he seems to enjoy it.

"I am flattered, but my name is Blaine."

"Kurt," Kurt says back.

"I know."

Right, Kurt has a name tag.

"I don't mind being called Eyebrows, but in case you need a reminder," Eyebrows - Blaine - opens his pocket and he takes out a wallet. He hands Kurt a business card.

Blaine has a business card, which is professional, but Kurt doesn't know why Blaine's handing it to him. Yes, Kurt told Blaine he has a Broadway dream, but Blaine isn't influential enough to help him get a job.

"... Thanks?"

"My name is on there. And my number as well."

Oh.

"Oh."

Blaine's eyes light up.

"Well it is very important information for me to remember," Kurt says coyly, "The name is important as well."

Their moment is cut short when Gunther tells Kurt to hurry up. Kurt tries not to roll his eyes and Blaine also looks saddened by the interruption.

"The usual?"

"Always, but add a sundae to it," Blaine says with a wink.

Kurt does his job. He doesn't have a lot of time to stop at Blaine's table, but he doesn't mind. Kurt has the feeling he'll talk to Blaine more often, even outside of work.

[ohbambix]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 diner was overly crowded by the time Kurt enters, removing the scarf from around his neck from transitioning from the cold outside and into a stuffed restaurant that felt more cozy and warm, accompanied by the greasy scent of fries and hot coffee. It's some kind of miracle that he snags the last available booth, ordering a hot cocoa from the waiter to start before accepting a menu and settling in. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe it was the fact that he was incredibly homesick and missing his dad and Carole so much, that brings him to notice the next person who comes in looking for a place to sit with clearly no more room to give. "Hey!" He starts, waving at them to get their attention before gesturing to the other seat across from him. "If you don't mind sharing the booth with me, this seat and whatever you want to order is all on me."

( @walstarterblog )

[quakeroaksguy]

|| I had to write something small to try and get a tiny hold on Gambit and his character/speech pattern, he has me whipped ✋😭 ||

|| Pairing(s): Remy LeBeau / Kurt Wagner ||

|| Warnings: None ||

“Because people like Remy LeBeau aren’t too welcome in these parts, Cher.” Gambit says as he leads Nightcrawler through the bustling streets of downtown New Orleans, them both covered up in a hat, glasses, jackets and joggers, not wanting to be as easy to pick out in a crowd by any possible hate group.

“What did you do to not be welcome?” Was all that Kurt could ask as he slightly slid behind Remy, letting someone pass, before following him into a small hole in the wall restaurant, waiting at the hostess booth to be seated.

“Let’s just say dat he did some not too savory things in his past dat he’s not too fond of.” The Cajun looked over the top of his glasses at his partner before turning around to answer the waiter that walked up to greet them.