A/N: And here it is – the finale of After Alcohol. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and favorited! It means so much to me!
I also apologize for all the ridiculous references – I own none of them. Or anything Glee.
And don't you worry – this will not be the last Klaine fic you will be getting from me!
However, for now, thank you, and read, review, enjoy : )
Blaine was making a bizarre honking noise in my ear. "Shut up," I said, slapping the megaphone out of his hands, "I'm still in the middle of baking a soufflé for the queen of the Gouda Cheese race before the Clown King eats their home."
A second later, when I opened my eyes, I realized that it was my alarm on my bedside going off. Unfortunately I was pulled back to the bed when I sat up to turn it off.
"What the…?" I muttered as I looked down at my waist. I felt like someone was kicking me in the chest as I saw Blaine's arm thrown around my waist, his fingers lightly brushing my ribcage.
"B-Blaine…?" I asked. "Wa…Wake up?"
"Mumbumshirrup," he mumbled, burying his head into my chest. I froze momentarily as I tried to figure out the situation.
"Blaine, my friend, you're kind of all up in my grill at the moment." Not that I minded, but it was a little bit inappropriate. Imagine what my dad would say if he walked in right then.
"Wha? No, sleeping." Blaine rolled over and promptly rolled right off the bed. I expected him to wake up, alas, no.
He pulled the blanket over his head, curling up into such a tiny ball that it was difficult to find where he was.
"Blaine, you are positively miniscule when sleeping, aren't you?" I said, crawling across my bed and getting off of it right next to him. "Are you awake yet?" He didn't respond. "Ugh," I muttered. "Really, I've carried you so much in the past twelve hours I'm not sure how much more I can handle before I give up."
I felt around in the ball of fabric that was both Blaine and comforter for his knees and shoulders, and picked him up. A little more harshly than I should have, I tossed him onto his bed. "You awake now?"
He shook his head.
My response was to throw a pillow at him. "Well, I am. Thanks to you, Bed Stealer McStealypants." Wide awake and completely unable to fall back asleep, I made the executive decision to begin moisturizing and primping for the day.
Blaine, on the other hand, threw a pillow over his head and began to snore again.
"Sleep tight, beauty queen," I said with an eye roll.
I was about halfway through my routine when I heard my father walk in and say, "What the hell is this? I thought today was the day you were going to teach me all about brunch!"
"I'll be down in a sec," I said, peering out from behind the wall separating my bathroom from my bedroom. My dad looked more confused than I'd ever seen him.
Oh. Blaine in my bed.
Probably a problem.
I heard rustling, and saw Blaine punch the pillow away from himself. "Where am I?" he muttered.
"Oh, uh" said my dad, looking disturbed, "I'm sorry. My bad." He backed out of my room with this look on his face like someone just spit in his soup.
When he closed the door, I finished my moisturizing routine and padded over to my bed in my slippers. "So, beauty queen," I said with my hands on my hips, "sleep well with all of my blankets?"
"Where am I?" Blaine asked. "Seriously, I barely remember anything from last night."
"You're in Narnia. I'm Tumnus the faun. Would you like some Turkish Delight?"
"The White Witch had the Turkish Delight," muttered Blaine into my pillow, "get your references right."
"You're at my house, you Captain Hammered."
He blinked up at me. "And what, you're Doctor Horrible?"
"Not Hammer," I said, wanting to hit my head on the wall, "hammered. Like as in holy Menzel you kissed Rachel and did a weird little jumping dance in front of everyone, drank the Red Sea dry, drunk hammered.."
To my horror, a goofy little grin spread across his face. "Yeah, I did kiss Rachel, didn't I?"
"Yes," I said, guardedly. "Yeah, on a dare."
The grin didn't leave, but he shook his head and fell back against the pillows. "Oh, god, the headache," he moaned, cuddling back under my sheets.
"Out," I said. "Out of my bed."
"Rum fuff nuffle buff," he said into the pillow.
"Lost in translation, Blaine, you're speaking into a pillow."
"No, I don't want to."
I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to make me drag you out?" I asked.
Blaine at back up. "Fine," he said, "But I'm going to need coffee."
"Get your own," I joked, offering my hand to him. He took it and stood up out of the bed and wobbled a bit.
"Oh, wow, being vertical really makes the headache worse."
"Again, I think that's the alcohol," I said with a smirk.
I walked out of my bedroom, and Blaine followed closed behind, staring at the ground. When it came to the stairs, he groaned.
"Oh, god, I'm going to fall."
"Why?" I asked. "Are you still drunk?"
"No," he said. "I just feel dizzy and nauseated and…Oh, man, really sick. And – oh, where's the bath – "
"Right here," I said, pushing open the bathroom that only Finn used. Blaine rushed in and vomited, not nearly as violently as the night before, but still pretty bad.
"Well, that should clear it up," said Blaine, sarcasm oozing out of his voice. "I feel awful."
"You're hung over. Awful makes sense."
"Not this way…" he muttered. He stood up and dipped his head into the sink, turning on the water and greedily sipping at it.
"Was that the first time you ever drank?" I asked. It took him a few moments to answer, seeing as his face was still under the water.
"Yeah," he responded. "Do you have a towel, by the way?"
I turned around and looked at him. He was smiling sheepishly, water clinging to the curls in his hair. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the curls just enough to achieve that bed head that always got me weak in the knees.
Did he have to make it so hard for me?
"Um, h-here," I stammered, "It's Finn's towel."
Blaine stared at it, for some reason looking horrified. "Are you sure that's clean?" he asked. "I don't know about –"
"Oh my god, Blaine, he's a teenage boy, not a pervert," I said. "Sheesh, and I thought I was the stereotypical only child."
Blaine put up his hands in surrender. "Look, I only worry because I know how I –" He froze has he realized what he was saying, and I did everything I could not to laugh uncomfortably. I didn't exactly succeed. "Can we just pretend none of that happened and give me the damned towel?" he asked with a nervous laugh.
I handed over the towel with a knowing smirk and leaned against the doorframe as I watched him brush the towel over his hair and face to dry it.
"Want coffee now?" I asked as he dropped the towel in the sink.
"Hell yes," he said.
He pushed past me and stares at the steps descending downward again. "I'll go in front of you so you don't fall over," I said, stepping in front of him.
He didn't fall – he only wobbled a little bit. As the two of us walked into the kitchen, I heard Finn say, "He wasn't –"
"Hi, guys," I said, walking into the room. "Someone needs some coffee."
My father sat in front of me, his stare worrying me, to the point where Carole was the first one to respond. "Sure, honey," said my stepmother, "One cream, two sugars?"
"Not for me, Carole," I said with a smile, "For Captain Hangover over here."
Immediately her eyes turn behind me to Blaine. Her eyebrows shot up nearly into her hair and her mouth formed a small "o" in surprise. "H-hello, Blaine. How – you…You're here."
Blaine, his face red, "Um, yeah."
"Rachel had a, um," Finn looked over at me and I nodded, and he took the hint to continue, "a party. With, erm…"
"Booze, Finn. She had a party with booze. And Finn and I didn't drink because we wanted to remain a little bit useful while other people went loony." I nudged Blaine in the side, and he was blushing furiously. "Like this kid to my right."
"Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel," he said, "for crashing here last night. Kurt wanted me to not drive and took my car instead of driving with Finn. It was really nice of him – I kind of overdid it."
"And I took care of his puking butt all night," I muttered, but I didn't think anybody heard me.
"Well," said Carole with a smile, "It's good you have such a good friend like Kurt here."
Blaine looked at me, an expression I saw last night that I now understood. "Yeah," he said softly. "I do. Thanks Kurt."
I fought back a blush. "No problem, Senor Drinkypants."
"Could you stop with the nicknames?" said Finn. "I know you think they're hilarious, but you're sort of exhausting it all."
I folded my arms across my chest. "Blah, blah, Finn," I said, sticking out my tongue playfully at him.
"You two fight like siblings," muttered Blaine.
"So," I said to Blaine after my family had left. Breakfast had taken a while with the five of us, especially with Blaine downing at least two pots of coffee on his own. "Do you remember anything about last night?"
I knew immediately he didn't as he stared at me, letting his chin rest on his hand. "Huh," he said, "Like with Rachel? Because I remember…Most of that."
"Uhuh, uhuh," I said, leaning closer to him. "But what about everything else?"
He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to them. "Ugh, I know there was something really important," he began, "but I have no idea what it was." He looked up at me, looking concerned. "Did I say anything important last night?"
I opened and closed my mouth. At first I wanted to tell Blaine exactly what he said, just to see exactly how he'd react to my knowing that he'd admitted that there were feelings between the two of us, but I suddenly realized that it was a bad idea.
"No," I said, feeling something wrench in my gut as I pushed the word out, "You didn't say anything that important." I pasted a smile across my face, praying he wouldn't see through me like glass.
Blaine grinned at me. "Good. Thanks so much for being there for me, Kurt. You're an incredibly good person and friend."
I nodded, remembering all the things he'd said last night. "Yeah," I muttered, sipping my cup of coffee with a small smile on my face, "so are you."