Going for Broke

Chapter 5

They fall into a pattern. It comes easily, and naturally—at least for Blaine. The first coffee non-date goes quite well. The two of them sit across from each other at a table, and debate the merits of the upcoming presidential election candidates. Kurt, he discovers, although he is not surprised, is a rather raging liberal, and wastes no time in shooting down all Blaine's contributions whenever he tries to contradict what Kurt is saying. It quickly becomes not so much of a debate, but Blaine blindly throwing out articles and Kurt tearing them to pieces with his usual snark. When Blaine's laughter interrupts Kurt's rant about the senator from Wisconsin, Kurt stops immediately and stares at him with shock.

"Sorry," Blaine apologizes. "It's just...I'm not used to you."

"You're not 'used' to me?" Kurt's face grows guarded, a little wary, and Blaine instantly hates himself for it.

"No, no, it's a good thing!" he assures Kurt. "Do you have any idea the kind of people I am used to?" When Kurt doesn't answer, Blaine continues. "Boring, passive, mindless pencil pushers, right? And you...you're not anything like that! You're...exciting, and opinionated, and I really like that about you." He blushes a little and ducks his head.

"Oh." Kurt curls his hands a little tighter around his coffee cup before giving Blaine a bright smile. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes. It's alright."

They go back to Kurt's home, afterwards, and Kurt grabs his cheap acrylic paints and spreads canvas out on the floor. They can hear Santana upstairs, singing raucously along with Alanis Morissette, and Blaine can't stop from smiling.

Kurt's face, however, is troubled, his eyes dark and mouth twisted.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asks him, shuffling a little closer along the floor so his knees brush against the other man's.

"I don't like seeing people in pain," Kurt whispers, eyes flickering up towards the ceiling.

Blaine follows his gaze. "Is she in pain?"

Kurt bites his lips and fiddles with the paint in his hands. "She fell in love someone who couldn't love her back as much as she loved them."

"Oh."

"I think that would have to be one of the most painful things of all," Kurt murmurs, almost more to himself.

When they paint, it's cold and wet and slick. Blaine tries trees this time, the trees he can remember from those childhood hikes in the woods.

Kurt paints a person, all in yellow, sprawled and mangled, stretched across the canvas like a corpse.

***

The next time, Blaine insists on dinner. Kurt insists on fast food. Blaine pays the bill when Kurt goes to wash his hands, and Kurt glares at him for a good five minutes afterwards. The fast food joint is empty, except for the lone employee, who is mopping the floor up near the counter and humming along with the music over the intercom.

"You made dinner last time. Paying for some crappy cheeseburgers hardly makes up for that," Blaine tells him when Kurt doesn't lighten up, and Kurt's face finally relaxes into an expression a little less murderous. He picks up a French fry and dips it into a little cup of mayonnaise.

"You know, I was actually a vegetarian until about two years ago?" And once again, with a few words, he has completely changed the tone of the conversation. It's as if the brief argument never even happened.

"Really?" Blaine surveys the double cheeseburger on Kurt's tray.

Kurt follows his eyes and grins impishly. "Really. I used to be really obsessed with my health, you know?" He sticks the French fry in his mouth. "I planned on leading a long and healthy life."