Work Text:
When the new hire arrives, Kurt is elbows deep in bread dough. He probably has flour on his face. He knew that the new guy was coming today, but somehow his arrival with Mercedes throws Kurt off. He knows this isn’t his finest first impression. Maybe he can pull off being hard-working?
“This is Blaine Anderson,” Mercedes is saying while Kurt tries not to be embarrassed by his in-work dishevelment.
Blaine Anderson is gorgeous, straight out of school so at least seven years younger than Kurt, and very off-limits in every other way as well because they’re going to be working closely together. Kurt has been drowning in work ever since Tina left and he had to do everything alone. Luckily Mercedes found someone so quickly, though she could have found someone less attractive. Kurt has been on a long dry spell and a crush at work is not something he wants to complicate his life. He hasn’t even wanted anyone in too long, and then Mercedes walks in with this dreamy young man…
Well, maybe Blaine Anderson is a total dick?
Blaine gives Kurt a wide, beautiful smile, and greets him.
“Hi,” Kurt says back and wipes at his face with the back of his wrist. “Welcome to the team.”
“I’m glad to be here. Mercedes said that you’d be guiding me with where everything is and so on?” Blaine looks from Mercedes to Kurt and back as if asking for permission to make this first move.
Mercedes nods. “Yeah, a little later. I’ll be going over some administrative stuff with you first, though. Let’s give Kurt a chance to finish today’s bread and then you two can get to know each other.” She gives Kurt a wink behind Blaine’s back and Kurt glares daggers at her as they leave him alone with his dough.
**
Blaine is not a dick, far from it. He’s quick to learn and remember the information Kurt provides him with. He’s polite and smiles a lot. It took Kurt years to adjust to the early mornings in the bakery café, but Blaine seems to be fully awake and sunny first thing in the morning, before the real sun has risen above the horizon.
Kurt tries to not look at Blaine’s hands, or his thighs, or his ass. It’s impossible to not steal glances, though. Strong hands digging into the dough, quick fingers folding pretty shapes. That ass when Blaine has to lean a little to get the rolls out of the oven, his black work trousers doing nothing to hide the glorious shape of his body underneath. Blaine is perfect in every way, pushing every button Kurt didn’t even know he had. Working together, side by side in the hot kitchen, preparing bread and pastries, is the best part of Kurt’s day. He never liked mornings, but now he can’t wait to fall asleep at night in anticipation of seeing Blaine again.
One morning about three weeks after Blaine joined them, they’re done faster than either of them thought, and that leaves them time to grab some coffee and sit down to talk properly instead of just chatting over the dough. Even though they know quite a bit about each other by now, they haven’t really delved deep into their pasts.
“In high school, all I wanted to do was make art and help people,” Blaine says, his smile a little wistful as he stares into his coffee cup. “Even though I had to go through a lot, I was so naïve.”
Kurt wants to ask what Blaine means by going through a lot but holds the words back. “I think everyone is naïve in their teens. It would be sad if we weren’t. Kids need to dream.”
“Yeah, well.” Blaine shrugs. “I was sure I would conquer the world on stage, set an example for others, and thrive in theater. I even got into a performing arts college straight out of high school. I came to New York and very soon realized I was in over my head.”
Kurt blinks. Blaine’s story sounds eerily familiar. “The industry was too cutthroat?” he guesses.
Blaine lifts his eyes from his coffee to meet Kurt’s. Kurt is certain he’s never seen eyes quite as beautiful as Blaine’s, so golden and big, framed by thick lashes.
“How did you know?”
“I used to dream of performing, too,” Kurt admits. He rarely tells people that, but he feels like he can trust Blaine, open up to him without judgment. “I wanted to go on Broadway. Turns out that I am not leading man material, so there were no roles for me, no way in. My second choice would have been fashion, but then things changed. I was working at this small café during college and ended up helping with the baking more and more. I used to like cooking, but I never thought of it as a career until one day the guy running the café asked if I ever thought about being a pastry chef. The rest is history.”
“Wow,” Blaine says with a smile. “We have a lot in common, then. Though, just for the record, I don’t understand how you’re not leading man material. Have you seen yourself?” There’s something dangerously like flirting in Blaine’s voice and face as he gives Kurt a quick once-over.
Kurt feels hot under his collar. “I was scrawnier back then – I wasn’t working my arms sore every morning! And my singing voice, well, it’s high. Very high.” Even though the high F doesn’t come as easy as it used to, he can still hit it. He has kept his instrument in shape over the years.
“You’ll have to sing for me sometime,” Blaine says, and it sounds like he’s going to hold Kurt to that, not just making empty small talk. There’s weight behind those words, a real desire to hear Kurt.
“I haven’t sung properly in forever,” Kurt evades. He doesn’t sing in front of people anymore, just on his own, stretching those muscles to make sure he doesn’t lose his voice. He wants to hold on to that skill, keep it alive, even though he doesn’t show it off these days.
“I’ll make you sing for me yet,” Blaine teases and Kurt tries to ignore the tug in his gut at those words, at the suggestiveness behind them.
He gives Blaine a look from under his lashes, flirting lightly back. Some friendly flirt between colleagues who like each other is ok, right? “We’ll have to see. But you haven’t finished your story. A high schooler dreaming of performing turned into a baker?”
Blaine nods. “I moved here and discovered a new love for all kinds of food. So, it was the cronuts that turned me into a baker.” There’s a self-deprecating smile on his face.
Kurt laughs. “Cronuts?”
“It was a lot cheaper to learn to bake them myself instead of buying them all the time,” Blaine explains. “I changed schools and graduated as a pastry chef and now I’m here.”
“I’m glad you are,” Kurt says, and it comes out way fonder than he meant to.
Blaine tucks in his chin and smiles. “Me, too.”
**
It’s early, and Kurt ruined his sleeping schedule over Thanksgiving – he stayed up with friends too late, slept too late, and now he feels only half awake as he nurses a strong cup of coffee and sets the ovens on. Long gone are the days when he could stay up around the clock and just sleep in next day to fix things. It will take a while for his body to get back to his normal rhythm.
Blaine isn’t there yet, but it’s a relief. Kurt wants to wake up properly before he has to try and act normal with Blaine.
It was only a few days, but he missed Blaine, his smile, his easy company. Even though they had a happy Friendsgiving with Mercedes, Rachel, Jesse, and Elliott, Kurt felt like something was missing. His thoughts kept straying to Blaine, wondering how he was spending his holiday weekend. Absence actually did make the heart fonder, in this case at least. He feels a little silly to have such a crush on his younger co-worker, but he’s keeping it to himself, so it doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s fine.
“Morning!” Blaine’s happy greeting comes from the coat room. He peeks around the corner and smiles at Kurt. “Did you have a good weekend?”
Kurt blinks. Blaine looks radiant. He hasn’t put his cap on yet, so his black hair is gleaming in the industrial lighting of the kitchen. His smile is so wide and genuine, he looks even better than Kurt remembered. Kurt wants to kiss him so bad it hurts. “Otherwise good, but I missed you.” It’s out without his permission, without a real thought, his still sleep-slow brain catching up to his mouth way too late.
Blaine steps in the kitchen and leans on the doorway, tilting his head curiously.
Kurt clears his throat. “Get your gear on, we have Christmas cakes to bake.”
**
Kurt feels awkward all through morning, even though neither of them mentions his slip up. Blaine seems like his normal self, chatting about his own Thanksgiving with his roommate’s family and a good Black Friday deal on bowties in one of his favorite indie seller’s internet shop. Kurt nods and answers on autopilot, mind dwelling on his stupid words. Did he weird Blaine out? Did he cross the line he’s been so tightly holding these past few weeks? Does Blaine hate him now? There’s no telling, because it’s as if nothing has changed, but the air feels heavier somehow, the silences more pronounced than ever before.
As they’re packing up, Blaine suddenly stills, messenger bag in hand. “Kurt?”
Dread sits heavily in Kurt’s stomach and his hands are suddenly freezing. He doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want this to be ruined. It’s been so nice, the easy comradery between them. He rarely meets people he clicks with as well as he did with Blaine, somehow close right from the start. If his stupid, sleepy comment ruined everything and it’s going to be weird between them…
“I thought of you, too, over Thanksgiving.” That’s all Blaine says before he flees from the room, leaving Kurt there in bewilderment.
**
After that, something shifts between them. Neither of them acknowledges it in words, but Blaine seems to be in Kurt’s space even more than before. Tapping his arm, slapping his shoulder, and once even patting him on the ass to get him to move out of the way. They exchange charged glances and sometimes their words are thick with hidden layers of meaning. It makes Kurt’s skin tingle and his cheeks feel hot. It’s a lovely, aching itch that begs to be scratched but is almost pleasant on its own, the tease of something hovering right there but neither of them taking hold of it.
Mercedes notices. She keeps looking from Kurt to Blaine and back, one eyebrow arched, clearly in on the fact that something is brewing under the surface. But just like Kurt and Blaine, she stays quiet about it.
One morning about a week before Christmas Kurt is in the cool room looking for more butter. As he finds a new stick and grabs it, he feels a warm presence at his back.
Strong hands take hold of his shoulders, hold him in place. “Please. I can’t take this anymore.”
Kurt glances at him over his shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say. His heart is racing in his chest. Then, he feels Blaine lean his forehead between his shoulder blades.
“I know I’m not supposed to. We’re co-workers and you’re way out of my league anyway, but I can’t… just let me out of my misery. Tell me I’m imagining things and I’ll back off.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to back off,” Kurt says, his throat tight. “Maybe I want you to be closer.”
The hands on his shoulders squeeze and then they’re gone. “Thank you.”
Kurt is alone in the cool room and shaking all over.
**
It’s like a weird game of cat and mouse where they trade roles on a whim. Sometimes it’s Kurt going after Blaine, pushing against him for a moment or two before retreating. Other times it’s Blaine’s lips almost touching Kurt’s ear as he asks a work-related question. It’s anticipation that builds and builds, an endless tease and chase that they both weirdly get off on.
They never meet outside of work even though Kurt has almost asked a million times. They come to work, they tease each other mercilessly but always subtly enough that it isn’t completely inappropriate, and then they part again to return to their separate lives outside of their kitchen.
Kurt loves to hate it. He’s thriving under the attention, the sweet ego boost of Blaine’s clear interest. The itch under his skin is near constant, his dreams are wilder than ever, and all of them feature Blaine.
**
Christmas Eve is their last day at work for two weeks. Kurt is going to Ohio to his dad, and he doesn’t know what Blaine is planning. It feels like torture to know that they won’t see each other in so long now that they’ve grown used to working together every day.
It’s probably the approaching separation that makes Kurt snap.
“Morning!” Blaine greets in his usual way when he arrives.
Kurt doesn’t even think. He leaves the kitchen and marches to the coat room, takes hold of Blaine’s shoulders and pushes him against the nearest wall. He drapes himself against Blaine, whose cheeks are red from the cool outside air still. There are snowflakes melting in his hair and eyelashes. His eyes are dark and deep, his mouth is parted.
Kurt kisses him.
Blaine positively melts against him, pulling Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth and sucking it like his life depends on that small action. Kurt pushes closer. His skin feels too tight and hot. Finally. It’s sparks down his spine, a delicious drag of teeth against his lip, a want that finally boiled over.
They part with a wet smack and stare at each other, catching their breath.
“Go out with me. To hell with the usual rules, Blaine. I want you. That’s all I care about.”
Blaine is nodding before Kurt finishes speaking. “Yes, yeah, yeah. Please.”
“Good.” Kurt kisses him again, deeper this time, and Blaine whines into his mouth.
“Promise me you won’t laugh at me?” Blaine pants softly when Kurt releases him.
“What do you mean?”
“All I wanted for Christmas was you, and I got you.” Blaine smiles, probably wider than Kurt has ever seen him smile.
Kurt huffs a small laugh despite Blaine’s earlier plea.
“Too sweet?”
“I’m a pastry chef, Blaine. My tolerance for sweet is quite high,” Kurt says with a small shake of his head, stupidly pleased with this sappy, dorky young man.
Besides, what Blaine said is true. This is what they both wanted for Christmas.