Your Kiss Like Whiskey
(or, Five New Directions Members Blaine Anderson Could Have Kissed At Rachel's Party, One He Did Kiss, and One He Certainly Didn't)
Pairings: Blaine/New Directions, Blaine/Rachel, Blaine/Kurt, Santana/Brittany, and one line of Puck/Finn
Blaine doesn't particularly want to kiss Kurt's stepbrother, just like he doesn't particularly want to play spin the bottle, either. But he's just drunk enough that everything is happy and, well, Finn is cute, and Blaine is just drunk enough to be desperate.
Finn, for his part, looks like he's trying too hard not to be disturbed by the fact that he's kissing a boy.
Puck merely laughs at him, hitting him on the shoulder. "Them's the rules, Finny. Pucker up."
Finn grumbles, but does as he's told, and while the quick peck on the lips Finn tries to give him would have been fine, Blaine is just drunk enough to be rebellious, and so he holds Finn's face against his, deepening the kiss.
Finn's a good kisser, though, good enough that Blaine sort of forgets he's not supposed to enjoy this, that Finn's not gay, and that really, this is a terrible idea, but he can't stop the warmth bubbling within him at the thought of Kurt's tall, handsome stepbrother.
The next morning, when he's still hung-over and getting ready in Kurt's room, he tells his friend the truth. "I think I have a crush on your stepbrother."
To his surprise, Kurt merely snorts at him. "Been there, done that, wouldn't recommend it."
Which makes Blaine pester him for the whole story, and the two of them spend the rest of the day at the Lima Bean laughing and joking about their shared experiences and wondering what it is about Finn that makes him so attractive to gay men.
In the end, his silly crush fades softly, and ultimately, just brings him closer to Kurt. Which is all he really wanted from the stupid party in the first place.
When the bottle lands on Mercedes, Blaine puts on his most absolutely charming smile.
He knows she's never been kissed before, if what Kurt told him is true, and he wants to make sure he does it right for her. She deserves it.
"Oooh," Santana teases. "Lucky lucky, Mercedes, getting to kiss a hottie like that!"
Blaine laughs. "No? I think I'm the lucky one. I get to kiss someone as gorgeous as Mercedes." He smiles at her, even if he can tell she's nervous and a little shy.
The kiss he gives her—while not the most passionate kiss in the world—is soft and sweet and, he hopes, makes her feel beautiful.
"Thank you." Kurt whispers to him the next morning.
Blaine blinks. "What, for the coffee? I already told you I—"
But Kurt shakes his head. "No. For Mercedes, last night. It meant a lot to her. And to me."
Blaine merely smiles. "You don't have to thank me. It was an honor-Mercedes is gorgeous."
Kurt smiles, a little teary eyed, like he's finally found someone who understands. "Yes. Yes, she really is."
3. Sam (and 4. Puck)
Blaine doesn't expect the bottle to land on another man, and quite honestly, he's not sure what to expect. Blaine doesn't know these people, not really, not outside of Kurt, Finn, and Mercedes, and this blonde guy is a football player, and Blaine just isn't sure what he supposed to do.
He thinks about laughing it off, but Sam acts before Blaine can do or say anything, though, and before he knows it Sam is kissing him. It's not a very deep kiss, or even a very good one, but it's nice and soft and over far too quickly.
Santana and Lauren whistle, Mercedes claps, and Tina giggles; Puck's the only one who gives Sam a hard time.
"Didn't know you were into dudes, man."
"I'm not," Sam smirks. "I'm just confident enough in my sexuality than I can make out with a dude and still get chicks to like me. Maybe I'm more of a badass than you."
And that triggers something, and before Blaine really knows what's happening, Puck has kissed every man in the room, including Blaine. ("WHO'S THE BIGGER BADASS NOW, EVANS?" Puck yells before grabbing Finn and kissing him again, much to Finn's squawk of protest.)
Blaine just sits back and blinks. "Kurt, your friends are weird."
Kurt just smiles, patting his arm gently. "You should see us practice. This is quite tame for them, really."
"Boy," the Hispanic girl smiles at him when the bottle lands on her. "I'm going to rock your world so hard you're gonna turn straight."
He really doubts that, but he figures there is no problem in humoring her.
She reminds him of a tiger who has found fresh prey, ready to devour him. He wonders, briefly, if maybe he ought to be terrified when she pounces, grabbing his face and kissing him, like maybe she wants to eat him or something.
And, well, he's not the most experienced guy in the world, but he's pretty sure this isn't a kiss anymore. He thinks this may qualify as tongue-rape.
But it feels good, surprisingly, and he finds himself getting into the kiss, kissing her back, his hand gripping her hair and—
"That's enough." Kurt pulls them apart, his face flushed with anger and—and something else, but Blaine doesn't know what. All he knows is that Kurt is really, really pretty, especially right now, with his face red, and he wonders what it would be like to kiss Kurt like he just kissed Santana, all hands and tongues and lips.
But Santana is still looking at him like she wants to eat him, and he's starting to think this may not be the best idea he's ever had. "I have a new game we can play: seven minutes in heaven." She points the bottle directly at Blaine. "Come on."
Then she grabs his hand and drags him up the stairs, and he ignores the cat-calls and wolf-whistles and the complete and utter devastated look on Kurt's face.
He thinks they're just going to make out some more, which, okay, he could do stupider things tonight.
"Do you think Brittany is jealous?" Santana asks, her head leaning against the wall, as if she's trying to hear what's going on downstairs. (He thinks Finn and Rachel may be singing a duet, but he can't really tell.)
"I don't even know who Brittany is."
She rolls her eyes. "Blonde girl. Pink bra."
He blinks at her. "I…I don't think so. She didn't seem like she was paying that much attention."
"Shit." Santana swears. "Well, this has been a waste of time, then."
He is so, so very confused right now. "I—I thought we were going to make out."
"Please. Drop the act-you aren't interested in making out with me, and I'm not interested in making out with you. Deal with it."
He nods because, yeah, okay, that makes sense. He's not really all that interested in making out with girls. He only kissed her back because it felt good; he still knows who he is, a gay boy living in Ohio. Nothing has changed.
His brain stops. Wait a minute. Brittany is a girl's name.
"Are you a lesbian?" he asks before he can stop himself, and winces inside over his lack of tact (this would never happen if he were sober; Blaine is nothing if not a gentleman.)
Her shoulders slump, like she's been defeated. "I don't know what I am."
But she's fawning over this Brittany girl, and, well, Blaine's a pretty smart boy sometimes. He understands.
He squeezes her hand gently. "If you ever want someone to talk to—I—" I've been there, he thinks about saying, but doesn't. It's okay though; Santana seems to understand.
She smiles back at him, squeezing his hand in return. "Come on. Let's get back downstairs before Hummel has a hernia."
But kissing Rachel is like kissing a star, like kissing something bright and warm and beautiful; like all the same the talent and drive she puts into singing she puts into kissing, and it feels wonderful.
Rachel is not the first girl he has ever kissed; she is, however, the first girl who has ever made him feel anything by kissing him.
(It doesn't occur to him until many, many months later that the slight musky scent he thought was Rachel was actually Kurt's scent; that the warm breath on his neck was Kurt's breath; that the knee he rests his hands on was Kurt's knee. That everything that was turning him on to Rachel was actually Kurt, and his drunken brain couldn't separate the two.)
For a brief moment—a day and a half—he gets to pretend he's normal. That he likes girls, too. That his father might accept him. That he might be—that he might—
Well, he'll never say he's straight. He can't—he likes boys too much, can't even look at Kurt sometimes without blushing with want—but maybe he can be bisexual. Maybe he can date girls in addition to boys, and maybe his father will smile at him again.
But then Rachel kisses him again sober, and there are no stars, only disappointment, and he wishes he hadn't gotten his hopes up.
If he's completely honest with himself, he wants to kiss Kurt. That's why he came to this party in the first place—since Valentine's Day, and Kurt's confession (I thought the boy you wanted to sing to was me), it's been all Blaine could really think about. He really likes Kurt, but he doesn't want to ruin their friendship by rushing things. A drunken kiss at a friend's party maybe just the spark they need to move things in the right direction.
The bottle lands squarely in between Kurt and Tina; it could go either way, really—it's Blaine's choice at this point.
Kurt's eyes light up like this is both everything he could possibly want and the very last thing he wanted to happen at the same time.
Blaine knows in that moment that he can't do this—he can't kiss Kurt. It's not that he doesn't want to—every hormonal bone in his body is screaming that he wants to—it's just that he can't take Kurt's first kiss like this, especially given how Kurt's actual first kiss went. Kurt deserves something special, something romantic. Not just a sloppy, drunken kiss from a boy who is too unsure about what he wants to do something about it.
No, Kurt deserves to be kissed, soberly and in broad daylight, by a boy who has absolutely no doubts about how he feels for him, in a Dalton common room where anyone could just walk in and see that they have nothing to be ashamed about. Maybe Blaine is that boy, and maybe he's not, but he's not going to take that chance and let Kurt get his heart broken in the meantime.
Blaine kisses Tina instead.