Do What You Will (3/5)
A/N: The piano bar mentioned is here if you like blah blah blah it’s cute. Enjoy!
Posted here at AO3
They’d chosen to walk to the place Kurt had in mind: Sidebar 122 in Downtown Columbus, a piano bar that was lit from within by sleek candles on the dark walnut tables and along the walls. The chairs were a lush brown leather, almost exclusively set two to a table, and servers weaved back and forth bearing trays laden with tapas and brightly colored cocktails. The sound of a piano, something like a trumpet, and a really rich bass rose up from what must’ve been the downstairs lounge.
Ahead and out of earshot, Kurt’s head was bowed as he murmured something to the hostess. She was nodding with perhaps the hint of a conspiratorial smile on her lips. All of a sudden, they both looked to Blaine and she signaled for them to follow.
With a final glance at the groups of people gathered around the entrance waiting for tables (whom Kurt had walked past without blinking an eye), Blaine slid by where Kurt was waiting for him to pass. As they moved, Kurt’s voice filtered through the buzz of the dining area: “It’s Mediterranean, with South American flavors as well.” Blaine had once claimed he might chop off his own thumb if it meant he could have fresh empanadas every day for the rest of his life.
"This place is a lucky find,” he replied as they took their places at a table snug along one wall. The hostess left them their menus before retreating with an affable smile.
"It certainly is. Luckier still that they let us have a table,” Kurt interlaced his lean fingers over his placemat. It seemed he was consciously suppressing the urge to bounce proudly in his seat.
Blaine eyed him up and down, hoping it came off less suggestively and more like a calculation. He very well could have asked the hows and whys, but didn’t fully want to hear it if no, Kurt hadn’t made a reservation for the day after Valentine’s, he just really was as marvelous as usual at pulling strings. Instead he let his eyes trail over where Kurt was studiously looking over the tapas selection.
"Let me buy you that drink I owe you,” Blaine said.
Kurt looked up and rolled his eyes, amused. “The what?”
"Remember last month, when you called and we had a talk about Sondheim? About men’s fragrances?”
Kurt’s eyebrow fluttered. “Yeah, okay. That rings a bell.”
"Will you let me?”
"One of us has to drive.” Kurt smirked, watching a bowl of ceviche as it was carried past. “Are you saying I can trust you’re not too exhausted to get behind the wheel?”
"I am 100% positive I can get us to that hotel...” He licked his bottom lip, feeling courageous. “Even a little bit farther, though,” he paused, shaking his head, “I just couldn’t be sure.”
Kurt huffed a laugh, playing with the napkin at his lap. Before he could respond, a waiter came near with pita chips and hummus for the table. “Any drinks or starters for you, gents?”
"Which of your cocktails is your favorite?” Blaine asked, all devil-may-care.
The waiter pursed his lips. “Sweet or sour?”
Blaine scrunched his nose, eyeing Kurt in indecision. “Both.”
"You’re dealing with a guy who trusts that he can have it all,” Kurt smiled cheekily. His tongue sat just right in the curve of his pillowy bottom lip.
"I’ll bring you the Prada, alright? It’s got tequila and lime, froth, a little spice. Now if I could just see some ID’s for you two I’ll be on my way.” They reached for their wallets and each one composedly handed over his fake in turn.
"Alright,” the waiter drawled, nodding, “And for you, sir?”
Blaine glanced up. “Just a coke, please.” And a bucket of ice for my blue balls.
"Should I give you some time to decide on the rest?”
"Yes, please,” Kurt hummed, “I’ve heard good things.”
"Alright, alright, men, no rush. You’re here to have a good night, maybe discover a spark...” He winked at Kurt good-naturedly, patted Blaine’s shoulder with his free hand. “You can’t hurry these things, you know. I’ll be back.” And he was gone.
Within seconds, Kurt was back to narrowing down his selection. His index finger twiddled with the corner of the menu, idly working it into a flimsy ruin until he flipped the page to start anew.
"Can I-um,” Blaine began. They set their menus down. “Can I cover this meal?”
Kurt’s shoulders slackened almost visibly, his lips quirked minutely. “What do you mean?” he said, head tilting. "I mean...” He was grasping; what was fair game? “Well, you’ve already determined that no drop of gas will be paid for by me - fine. We haven’t really talked about the fact you’ve offered up a hotel room but I’d really appreciate it if you let me at least chip in for that.” Blaine thought it was a bit much to even imply the plane tickets were bought with him in mind, so he left off there.
Kurt appeared nonplussed. “But you’re giving me a ride from Columbus. Y-you let me borrow your hairspray.”
Blaine couldn’t help but snort, though Kurt looked a little hurt. “No, I’m just- That wasn’t even a question. I wouldn’t ever not give you a ride or not let you have as much of my hairspray as you wanted.” Somehow, even when he knows he’s lost, knows he wanted to lose, he won’t concede easy.
Kurt’s nervous twitch still hadn’t shown its face again but the pleased glint in his eyes was back; “As much hairspray as I wanted, huh? And as for other... product?”
Blaine chewed his lip, biting down a laugh. “I’d need some time to deliberate.”
"Damn!” The flat of Kurt’s hand met the table with very little bite. “Almost scored myself a lifetime supply of gel with you none the wiser.”
"Kurt.” Blaine looked up, and he was just quick enough to catch Kurt’s eyes before they fell again.
"Will you please let me?” Let me buy you dinner. Let me buy you thousands of dinners.
Kurt considered, and they both looked on as he nearly submerged a pita chip in the hummus.
"Okay,” he answered, “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna put on a brave face and nitpick about what we’re eating so they don’t charge you for more than a piece of lettuce.” Well, good. Kurt didn’t do that kind of thing on dates, either.
Next chapter
Posted here at AO3
They’d chosen to walk to the place Kurt had in mind: Sidebar 122 in Downtown Columbus, a piano bar that was lit from within by sleek candles on the dark walnut tables and along the walls. The chairs were a lush brown leather, almost exclusively set two to a table, and servers weaved back and forth bearing trays laden with tapas and brightly colored cocktails. The sound of a piano, something like a trumpet, and a really rich bass rose up from what must’ve been the downstairs lounge.
Ahead and out of earshot, Kurt’s head was bowed as he murmured something to the hostess. She was nodding with perhaps the hint of a conspiratorial smile on her lips. All of a sudden, they both looked to Blaine and she signaled for them to follow.
With a final glance at the groups of people gathered around the entrance waiting for tables (whom Kurt had walked past without blinking an eye), Blaine slid by where Kurt was waiting for him to pass. As they moved, Kurt’s voice filtered through the buzz of the dining area: “It’s Mediterranean, with South American flavors as well.” Blaine had once claimed he might chop off his own thumb if it meant he could have fresh empanadas every day for the rest of his life.
"This place is a lucky find,” he replied as they took their places at a table snug along one wall. The hostess left them their menus before retreating with an affable smile.
"It certainly is. Luckier still that they let us have a table,” Kurt interlaced his lean fingers over his placemat. It seemed he was consciously suppressing the urge to bounce proudly in his seat.
Blaine eyed him up and down, hoping it came off less suggestively and more like a calculation. He very well could have asked the hows and whys, but didn’t fully want to hear it if no, Kurt hadn’t made a reservation for the day after Valentine’s, he just really was as marvelous as usual at pulling strings. Instead he let his eyes trail over where Kurt was studiously looking over the tapas selection.
"Let me buy you that drink I owe you,” Blaine said.
Kurt looked up and rolled his eyes, amused. “The what?”
"Remember last month, when you called and we had a talk about Sondheim? About men’s fragrances?”
Kurt’s eyebrow fluttered. “Yeah, okay. That rings a bell.”
"Will you let me?”
"One of us has to drive.” Kurt smirked, watching a bowl of ceviche as it was carried past. “Are you saying I can trust you’re not too exhausted to get behind the wheel?”
"I am 100% positive I can get us to that hotel...” He licked his bottom lip, feeling courageous. “Even a little bit farther, though,” he paused, shaking his head, “I just couldn’t be sure.”
Kurt huffed a laugh, playing with the napkin at his lap. Before he could respond, a waiter came near with pita chips and hummus for the table. “Any drinks or starters for you, gents?”
"Which of your cocktails is your favorite?” Blaine asked, all devil-may-care.
The waiter pursed his lips. “Sweet or sour?”
Blaine scrunched his nose, eyeing Kurt in indecision. “Both.”
"You’re dealing with a guy who trusts that he can have it all,” Kurt smiled cheekily. His tongue sat just right in the curve of his pillowy bottom lip.
"I’ll bring you the Prada, alright? It’s got tequila and lime, froth, a little spice. Now if I could just see some ID’s for you two I’ll be on my way.” They reached for their wallets and each one composedly handed over his fake in turn.
"Alright,” the waiter drawled, nodding, “And for you, sir?”
Blaine glanced up. “Just a coke, please.” And a bucket of ice for my blue balls.
"Should I give you some time to decide on the rest?”
"Yes, please,” Kurt hummed, “I’ve heard good things.”
"Alright, alright, men, no rush. You’re here to have a good night, maybe discover a spark...” He winked at Kurt good-naturedly, patted Blaine’s shoulder with his free hand. “You can’t hurry these things, you know. I’ll be back.” And he was gone.
Within seconds, Kurt was back to narrowing down his selection. His index finger twiddled with the corner of the menu, idly working it into a flimsy ruin until he flipped the page to start anew.
"Can I-um,” Blaine began. They set their menus down. “Can I cover this meal?”
Kurt’s shoulders slackened almost visibly, his lips quirked minutely. “What do you mean?” he said, head tilting. "I mean...” He was grasping; what was fair game? “Well, you’ve already determined that no drop of gas will be paid for by me - fine. We haven’t really talked about the fact you’ve offered up a hotel room but I’d really appreciate it if you let me at least chip in for that.” Blaine thought it was a bit much to even imply the plane tickets were bought with him in mind, so he left off there.
Kurt appeared nonplussed. “But you’re giving me a ride from Columbus. Y-you let me borrow your hairspray.”
Blaine couldn’t help but snort, though Kurt looked a little hurt. “No, I’m just- That wasn’t even a question. I wouldn’t ever not give you a ride or not let you have as much of my hairspray as you wanted.” Somehow, even when he knows he’s lost, knows he wanted to lose, he won’t concede easy.
Kurt’s nervous twitch still hadn’t shown its face again but the pleased glint in his eyes was back; “As much hairspray as I wanted, huh? And as for other... product?”
Blaine chewed his lip, biting down a laugh. “I’d need some time to deliberate.”
"Damn!” The flat of Kurt’s hand met the table with very little bite. “Almost scored myself a lifetime supply of gel with you none the wiser.”
"Kurt.” Blaine looked up, and he was just quick enough to catch Kurt’s eyes before they fell again.
"Will you please let me?” Let me buy you dinner. Let me buy you thousands of dinners.
Kurt considered, and they both looked on as he nearly submerged a pita chip in the hummus.
"Okay,” he answered, “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna put on a brave face and nitpick about what we’re eating so they don’t charge you for more than a piece of lettuce.” Well, good. Kurt didn’t do that kind of thing on dates, either.
Next chapter