-More Klaine! Spoilers for "Blame it on the Alcohol" and "Original Songs" Enjoy!-
Drunk and Disorderly
"Whoa, easy there," Kurt warned, trying to laugh a little at this less than spectacular situation. Blaine staggered against him, still grinning stupidly as Kurt hauled him up the stairs.
"That was a great party," he giggled.
"Oh yeah," Kurt said disdainfully. "Great party."
"Ya know, that Rachel girl's kinda cute. You know, for a girl," Blaine noted.
"Sure, if you like perfect, overzealous, obsessive, clingy extremely competitive divas that feed off of spotlights and other people's disappointments and behaves like a total-"
"Shh," Blaine said, clapping his hand over Kurt's mouth. "You're wa-ay too angry to be any fun right now." Kurt shook his head, yanking away from Blaine's hand. He shouldered his bedroom door open and plopped Blaine onto the bed, sighing.
"You need sleep," he said, taking off the drunken boy's shoes.
"Hey," he laughed, looking up at him. "You have to buy me a drink first."
"Oh, I think you've had quite enough of that," he spat, throwing the shoes to the ground. He tugged his comforter out from under him, draping it back over him. Blaine sighed and rolled over, hugging a pillow and closing his eyes. Kurt continued tucking him in, pulling the blanket over his shoulder and gently rubbing his back, just like his mom used to do for him.
He sighed again, wilted. He'd meant for tonight to be special. He thought maybe Blaine would pay attention to him, see him. Really see him. Not the other gay guy, or his friend, but something more. He might have even wished that Blaine like liked him somewhere and tonight he would tell him. Instead he got to watch the boy of his dreams kiss the girl he'd already lost so much to. He watched them sing together too, and it was much more meaningful and provocative than anything they'd sang together.
"Your face tastes…awesome."
"I'll bet it does, Miss Berry, I'll bet it does," he growled, throwing his cleanser onto the vanity with unnecessary force.
"What'd you say?" Blaine slurred. Kurt glanced over his shoulder. Those puppy-dog hazel eyes were staring up at him, his curls a mess around his face, expression curious and sleepy. He smiled against his will and shook his head.
"Nothing, Blaine. Go to sleep." He laid back down, snuggling the pillow again.
Kurt turned back to his mirror, still angry. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. Blaine was his. He'd seen him first and everything. He'd met him in their isolated school, befriended him far away from the others. And he was so perfect. Charming, absolutely beautiful, sweet, passionate, could sing his heart out and he was, most importantly, gay. And now…now he might lose the only real chance he ever had to…to a girl.
"Ugh!" He tossed the cotton swab away, furious with himself. "Why aren't I more appealing than…than her?"
He stepped back into his room checking at least five times that Blaine was asleep before he started changing.
The dark-haired boy, however, was only just asleep. The movement made him stir and he rolled without a sound, opening his eyes. They grew exponentially when they saw Kurt's bare back.
"Wow," he breathed. His skin was totally flawless. Not a freckle or a solitary blemish anywhere. In his stupor, he wondered if he really was as soft as he looked. He shut his eyes out of courtesy when he started to take off his pants.
Kurt glanced back, wondering if he was just being paranoid. He dressed quickly anyway.
Blaine opened his eyes again when the other boy lied down, looking drowsy, still smiling a little.
Why can't this be what I want it to? Kurt thought painfully.
"Go to sleep," he urged.
"I'm trying," Blaine said softly. Kurt blanched, then sighed, gently rubbing his forehead, something else his mom used to do. Gingerly at first, then bolder as Blaine leaned into his touch. "You're really cute, Kurt…" The boy blanched, eyes wide.
He really is drunk…
Slowly, Blaine's eyes closed, his body relaxing, breathing slow and deep. Kurt smiled a little. He was so cute. He shook his head again, clearing it. He made sure there was at least a foot between the two of them before he shut his eyes, content with knowing that Blaine was lying just a foot away.
It didn't take long before he was jolted from a doze by something resting on his chest; Blaine's head. His eyes grew.
"Oh my goodness." In his sleep, Blaine nuzzled his face deeper into his chest. "Uh, um…" Carefully, he slid out from under him, swiftly replacing his body with the pillow he'd been molesting earlier. Blaine frowned, searching for him again. "You would be a cuddler, wouldn't you?"
Kurt sighed, keeping his hand on Blaine's chest to keep him back. He, however, had other ideas. He swatted Kurt's hand away, gently hugging Kurt again. The boy looked up, lost and agitated. He didn't really know what he should do. He shook his head, sighing and accepting what he should do. He let himself go.
He hugged Blaine back, doing something he'd wanted to all night. He carefully ran his fingers through his hair, feeling those soft curls fall between his fingers. He wished he'd wear them down more, instead of hiding them away under all of that hair gel. Blaine sighed, smiling softly.
For a moment, just one, small moment, Kurt let himself believe that tonight had gone the way he wanted it, and now they were lying beside each other, happy. But that stupid girl, that stupid Rachel and her stupid party and her stupid GAME-
The boy turned pink, once again unable to believe his ears, which were just as red as his cheeks. Blaine said his name in his sleep. Maybe his hope wasn't gone just yet.
He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself and dreamt of skin-tight jeans and holding hands.
Blaine woke the next morning with a start, not seeing Burt Hummel standing at the end of the bed, nor did he see the glare Kurt received. He wasn't even sure where he was. For awhile. He burrowed himself back into the pillow he'd been in, the only familiarity he had through his thundering headache.
Kurt hurried over when Burt left the room.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Um, yeah," he slowly realized that he was in Kurt's room…in his bed…his bed. His eyes grew and he looked up at him, making sure he was still fully clothed and nothing he'd regret would have happened. Not that Kurt wasn't…he just…God, his head hurt.
"Hey, uh, Kurt, why am I in your bed?" He asked. Kurt briefly folded his lips.
"You were really drunk and in no state to drive home. I didn't want you to get in trouble if you did, so I brought you here and texted your mother saying where you were," he said quickly. "I'm sorry if I-"
"No!" He exclaimed, impressed. "No, thank you for…for doing that." Kurt smiled.
"Now, you might want to hurry and get out of here before my dad freaks out again," he chuckled. Blaine nodded, searching for his shoes.
"Hey, Kurt," he said, pausing. Kurt turned. "Did anything happen? You know, between us?"
"Other than you being overly cuddly while we were sleeping, no," he said simply. Blaine blushed and nodded.
"Right," he smiled, dimpled and embarrassed. "Sorry about that." Kurt shrugged.
"It's alright. And don't worry, I didn't take advantage of you," he teased. Blaine grinned.
"I know you wouldn't, Kurt. You wouldn't do something like that," he stood, shoes tied and in place. "You'd be too scared." He winked as a pillow dived at his head. He ducked out of the room, laughing.
Kurt smiled and shook his head, turning back to his mirror. He glanced over at Pavarotti. "Maybe it will happen," he sighed, eyes falling. "Or maybe Rachel will steal him right out from under me."
Oh how he was eating those words now, staring into Blaine's eyes as the most glorious words in the whole world were spoken. "…You move me, Kurt."
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