Hey all! I'm back with another collaborative effort written between the hours of 9pm and 1am. This was also written while listening to fucking insane British radio fuckers who are fucking trolls and make the fucking American girls stay up WAY late in order to hear the confirmation/denial of the CrissColfer interview.
During the editing process, we tried to make everything as cohesive as possible so that it didn't seem to be written by seven different people, so hopefully that shows. The seven writers contributing to this fic: Onlyonekamui, ohmygleek, tazitz, imadeafriendtoday, blairoline, lemonaidan, and singingwrenn. Go read their stuff, they are AWESOME!
Again, this is a CrissColfer RPF, so if you don't like it, click the back button and go read some Klaine. For now, it's pretty innocent, but we have PLANS for this fic! It was going to be a oneshot, but then we all started fangirling and tumbling the interview and all hope was lost.
But that also means that this is going to be longer and more involved and even better than the first collaborative piece! Leave reviews, we love to know what you're thinking! Also, if you have any prompts you'd want us to cover, let us know! Thanks!
It had been a long night at the concert, but Chris was dragged out for his birthday. Perhaps dragged wasn't the proper term; More like he'd demanded everyone go with him on a bar crawl… A bar crawl that lasted two bars. Chris was little and everyone from the cast had bought him a shot. By the time they'd left the second place, Chris was trashed.
"BEST BIRTHDAY EVAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he cheered, crashing into Darren on the way out. "OH HEY DARREN!"
"The lightweight couldn't even handle his be-OOOF!" Darren felt himself pushed forward as a body smacked into him. He and a few others of the cast were outside of the bar, enjoying fresh air and talking about how Chris couldn't hold his liquid when the Birthday Boy Himself finally left the bar. Correction: Ran out of the bar. Darren smiled cheekily at the drunk 21 year old and helped him up, making sure he was standing straight, "Hey there Mr. Big Shot...or Mr. I Can't Handle My Shot." Chris gave him a drunken glare before almost falling over in a fit of giggles.
Lea walked over to the two. "Hey handsomes, we oldies are going to go find a 24-hour diner to relax. Darren, do you mind making sure Chris gets home and STAYS home okay?" Darren laughed and nodded, hugging her goodbye and watching the group walk away. Chris had managed to worm away and was sitting on a bench, contorted and giggling.
"LOOK DARREN! I'M PLANKING!" The 24-year-old shook his head in disbelief and helped to stand the boy up again, beginning their trek to the hotel. It didn't take long for something else to catch the attention of the disoriented boy. Many a times did Darren have to stop walking and pull Chris away from bushes as he was mumbling, "Pavarotti is in there somewhere, Blaine. I just know it!" When Chris wasn't busy in the bushes, he was picking up sticks and twirling them around with drunken abandonment, usually ending in a stick hitting Darren, which would then lead to an apologetic Chris. The cycle repeated itself a few times. Finally, Darren had had enough. He slapped Chris' hand as he reached down to get another stick.
"Chris, no. No more. I don't enjoy getting hit in the head with tree branches! If you were actually trying to twirl your sais right now, I'd be dead!" He laughed as Chris stuck his tongue out and pulled a face.
"Whateeer Duren, I'm 'mazing at everythin' and if I had my sais, I would be kickin' ass and takin' names!" Chris slurred as he slumped against Darren. "I dun feel so hot Darren..." Darren put his arm around the younger boy and reassured him.
"Chris, you're fine. Just keep walking; we're almost at the hotel. You'll be in a warm, cozy bed in five minutes. Just keep that in mind." Chris nodded into Darren's shoulder, closing his eyes, trusting Darren to get him home. By the time they made it back to the hotel, Darren's shoulder had accumulated a large spot of drool and, from the gentle pressure he had felt on occasion during their stumbling walk, a few bite marks. He'd have been annoyed at the potential damage done to a jacket that was a personal favorite of his, but when he glanced down at the unruly head of hair against his arm, he couldn't bring himself to be anything but utterly charmed by the adorable expression on Chris's face. His eyes were sleepy and half-closed, but he swore he still saw a spark of mischief dancing behind the lids, despite the drunken haze which clouded them. Unfortunately, his pondering of the eyes of one Chris Colfer took his own off the pavement, and both men made a face-first acquaintance with the wooden bench outside the front lobby. "Oww," Darren moaned. Somehow in their fall, the other boy had ended up half across his lap, his weight crushing Darren into the slats of the bench in a less than pleasant way. "Chris, gerroff!" he said, trying to maneuver Chris off of him.
"No!" Chris squealed. "You- you're warm," he muttered. "Iss cold and you're warm. Snuggle." And snuggle in he did, right into the crook of Darren's arm. Darren attempted to pull Chris upright.
"You'll be warm when you get to bed. I promise." Chris just snuggled in closer to Darren, mumbling into his arm.
"No, bed's not warm like you. Bed's not snuggly like you." Darren sighed and scooped Chris up, carring him through the doors of the hotel, and into the waiting elevator. When the elevator arrived at the appropriate floor, the duo stepped off.
"C'mon, let's just get you to bed. You need sleep." When they reached Chris' room, Darren asked Chris to get his key out so he could open the door.
"Too tired" Chris mumbled, "It's in my pocket, you can get it." Darren maneuvered Chris to standing position, still supporting the taller man's body with his own, and dug into Chris' pocket for the key. "Darren, that tickles." Chris slurred, trying to squirm away from the man holding him up. Darren fished the card out and swiped it. After the light blinked green he stumbled into the room with Chris still attached to his side. He led the drunken man towards his bed and helped him lay down.
"Okay, Chris, I'm going back to my room. Call me if you need anything, and don't do anything stupid."
Darren turned around to leave but Chris called after him, "No! Pleeease don' leave me." He gave Darren his best puppy dog eyes when he turned to acknowledge Chris pleading in his bed. Darren sighed.
"Alright I'll just crash on the couch then." Chris looked rejected.
"Can' you jusssleep in my bed?"
"Chris I don't know if that's such a good idea," Darren answered.
"You know what's an awesum idea?" Darren raised an eyebrow, looking at Chris. "I should call my mom. DARREN I SHOULD CALL MY MOM!"
"What? Why?" But he couldn't grab Chris fast enough as he started to dial home.
"I need to tell her... her stuff." Darren sprang over the bed to grab the phone, but Chris giggled and slid off the bed and out of his reach. "Voicemail… poop... MOM. MOM HIII! Mom... MOM. I... I turned 21 WOO and... and I drank, some. But don't tell Dad I'm a lot drunk, k? OH AND MOM!" Chris ran away from Darren again, giggling louder into the phone. "I'm with Darren... my boyfriend! OH WAIT. FAKE boyfriend!" Darren cringed at that comment.
"Okay, Chris, give me the phone." Darren reached for the phone and grabbed it from the intoxicated boy. Mumbling into the phone, "Sorry about that, he's going to bed now," Darren hung up the phone. Looking back at Chris, he could see Chris was pouting.
"Why did you do that, fake boyfriend?"
Darren sighed. "Ok, you have got to stop calling me that. That's only on the show."
Chris looked at him and said, "But why is it only on the show. You are really hot... do you know that? Like your face... is… really hot. And… I want to just touch it. Cause it's hot." To fit Chris' description, Darren felt his face heat up in a blush. His vision was blurred by hands that touched his eyelids and fell to his cheeks, pushing them up and down. Shaking his head, Darren grabbed Chris' wrists and lowered them and walked the boy over to his bed. Chris pouted some more and flopped on his bed, sprawling across it with open arms and legs. "Darrrrennnnn. You were wrong, this bed isn't as snuggly as you were." Darren furrowed his brow and glanced at Chris, watching his sleepy eyes open and close. He ran a hand through his hair, walked to the couch, and settled down on it, biting his lip along the way.
Just as he felt a small amount of calmness wash over the room he heard the pitter patter of feet and within seconds there was a Chris Colfer on him, giggling into his neck, "SEE DARREN! CUDDLY SNUGGLY!" Despite his protests, Darren felt butterflies start accumulating in his stomach. He tried pushing the taller boy off of him, but it was no use.
"Chris, c'mon, get off of me. You need to sleep in your own bed." Chris giggled and lifted his head to meet Darren's gaze.
"How about we both get into my bed?" The butterflies in Darren's stomach kept multiplying.
"Chris, that isn't -" He was cut off by a pair of lips crashing into his own. Darren sighed into the feeling, finally knowing what it felt like after months of wondering, before he opened his eyes and pushed Chris off of him.
"C-Chris, what the hell?" he yelped, heart racing at an unhealthy pace.
"C'mon, Dare," Chris mumbled, taking a shaking step. He started to sing, the words slurred and high and soft. "Don't, don't y-you want me," he wrapped his arm around Darren's neck, pulling him in, "-baby?" The whispered word in his ear sent shivers coursing through his body. The tongue which followed them sent him stumbling back in panic as a completely different sensation travelled downwards, an unmistakable and completely mortifying heat.
"Chris, no," he pleaded, trying to grab the hands which were doing their best to grope at the buttons of his shirt.
"You're drunk, we're not doing this."
"I'm nott drunk!" Chris slurred, "You just taste realllly good, like cherries. I gotta try that cherry stuff next time, Darren!"
Darren pushed Chris back away, "Yes, you are. Just go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Chris crawled towards Darren, grabbing at his shirt.
"Jus lay with me, kay?" He mumbled sleepily, "I promise I'll be good. Just c'mere for a second." Darren tried to protest, but Chris' hands were held tight to his shirt. He reluctantly lay down, hoping that Chris would fall asleep quickly and he could sneak out. "Yer so warm, Darren" Chris mumbled, burying his face in the smaller man's chest. "So warm…" Chris trailed his hands up into Darren's shirt, Darren promptly swatting him away and rolling out of the bed. "Darrrrennnn." Chris whined.
"NO. I told you we couldn't do this. Just go to sleep." Darren snapped.
"Darren, why're you mad?" Chris slurred. "Because you aren't thinking; the alcohol is taking over your mind." Chris looked confused. "My mind isn' tooken over, Dare."
"Chris, you don't actually like me. You are just fucking with my feelings right now and all this will do is make tomorrow awkward as fuck." Darren explained.
"Feelings?" Chris asked. Darren realized his mistake. He didn't know what to do and decided to grab his things and leave without explanation. "Wait, Darren! I don' underssand wha I did wrong," Chris called and staggered after Darren. The shorter man turned around.
"Chris go back to bed. If you still remember, we can talk about it in the morning." Chris grabbed Darren's head and smashed their lips together. Darren was frozen for a moment, even tempted to kiss him back, but thought better of it and pushed Chris off. "Go back to your room." he ordered before disappearing into his own and slamming the door behind him.