Disclaimer: Don't own Fox, Glee, Kurt, or Blaine, so don't sue.

A/N: So here we are! Round two! This is set a long while before the Wal-mart fiasco, as you will see.

Enjoy!

"Blaine, stop it!" Kurt said through his teeth, trying really hard to remember why it would be a bad idea to strangle his idiot boyfriend as he brushed bits of packing foam from his hair.

Blaine just laughed and sprinkled a few more bits of the stuff on Kurt.

"Blaine! Stop! And get off the damn coffee table!" Kurt ordered. "What is it with you and standing on furniture?"

"It's fun," Blaine said. "You should try it."

Kurt scoffed. "Maybe I would if I wasn't busy unpacking all of these frigging boxes all by myself." He gestured to the boxes peppered all over their living room floor. They had finally, finally made it to New York City, but had been too tired after the long drive from Lima to do anything but fall into bed and go to sleep. The original plan had been to fly but Kurt had plane issues. There had been an… incident.

Three months ago, when he and Blaine had come to New York together to find an apartment, a very long, very frightening (for Kurt, at least) bout of turbulence on the return flight to Ohio had led to a rather unfortunate hour spent at a Piggly Wiggly - a place neither Kurt nor Blaine would ever be returning to again, and not just because they were legally forbidden to do so. Kurt flat out refused to revisit the details of the event but the end result was basically no more planes for Kurt Hummel. Hence the driving.

"I helped," Blaine insisted, referring to the unpacking.

"No, you opened up the first box, yelled 'Yay, packing foam!' and then proceeded to throw it all over the place while skipping around like a puppy on crack. And now you've got your feet on my two hundred dollar coffee table. That is not help, Blaine."

"Our two hundred dollar coffee table," Blaine corrected with a silly grin on his face.

Kurt snorted as he carefully pulled out the china plates that had once belonged to his mother. "No. Until you start helping me, everything in this apartment is mine."

"Including me?"

"I would have to want you first. As it is, however, I'd really just like to pawn you off on one of the neighbors we have yet to see."

"Well, someone is a great big grumpy grump."

Kurt snorted. "Pissed is what I am. And furious is what I'll be if you don't start helping."

Blaine frowned and stepped down to the floor. "Are you really mad at me?"

"No," Kurt sighed. "But I will be if you don't help me."

"Okay," Blaine said as he walked over to where Kurt was sitting. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Kurt's eyebrow. Apparently, it was Blaine's new favorite place on Kurt's body to kiss if the several hundred times he had done it in the past few days were any indication. Kurt knew that the action really shouldn't be as cute as it was, but Blaine had a way of making the silliest things heartbreakingly adorable.

Blaine leaned back and grinned. "I'm going to get something to drink first. I'm thirsty."

Kurt watched his boyfriend as he stood up and wandered towards their kitchen. "Again?" Kurt asked. "This is like the tenth time you've gotten a drink. You can't be that thirsty."

"I can't help it, though!" Blaine called from the kitchen. "This stuff is amazing."

"Of course it is," Kurt mumbled to himself, pulling the tape off another box as he debated whether or not he should just keep his mother's plates in the kitchen or buy a Curio Cabinet. "I'll have some of whatever it is you're drinking," he called out, "because now you've made me thirsty."

Blaine walked back into the living room but Kurt was too busy with his task to pay his boyfriend much attention. "I don't think you'll like it," Blaine mused.

"Why?" Kurt asked distractedly as he glanced up from the half opened box. "What is-" His eyes narrowed at Blaine's hand. Or rather what was in Blaine's hand. "Blaine, what is that?"

An entirely ridiculous grin broke out over Blaine's face as he giggled. Giggled. "Umm, nothing?"

Kurt pushed the box away and slowly got to his feet, all thoughts of unpacking and Curio Cabinets completely forgotten. "Blaine, I swear to Gaga if that is what I think it is-"

"It's mine," Blaine said as he thrust out a hand to keep Kurt at bay.

Kurt snorted. "Where did you get it? Or better yet, how did you get it?"

Blaine held 'it' up to his face - 'it' being a bottle of an alcoholic something or other wrapped up in a brown paper bag - to study. And asking how Blaine had acquired the bottle was a valid concern given the fact that Blaine was not yet twenty-one. "The pretty lady gave it to me."

"What lady?" Kurt demanded.

"The pretty one downstairs."

Kurt rose a brow. Suddenly Blaine's behavior the past thirty minutes made a lot more sense. But then, Blaine was always a bit of a puppy and when Kurt had asked him to run to the store to buy light bulbs, he hadn't thought he would to need to be on the lookout for whether or not his boyfriend would return sober. "You mean a neighbor?"

Blaine shook his head. "Nuh uh. She lives on the bench outside. The one next to the walkway."

Kurt's body went stiff. There was absolutely just no way that Blaine meant what Kurt was afraid he meant.

"Don't tell me… you don't mean that hobo with the green jacket and the track pants, do you?"

"Yup!"

"Oh my - that's a man, Blaine!" Kurt shrieked. "And he sure as hell isn't 'pretty!' He's got, like, six teeth missing!"

Blaine pulled a face resembling that of someone who had just sucked on a lemon. "That's mean, Kurt. You're mean. She's not a man. She's got long hair. Girls have long hair because they're girls. And she is too pretty. It's cause she's got blue eyes. That's pretty." He tipped the bottle back to his lips.

"Don't!" Kurt leapt over a box and ripped the bottle out of Blaine's hands. Liquid sloshed down Blaine's front and onto the floor, but that was no matter so long as it stayed out of his mouth. Blaine reached for the bottle but Kurt held it away. "Put that lip away, Blaine Anderson, or I will bite it off. I can not believe you accepted alcohol from a hobo."

Blaine whined, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Give it, Kurt! Clark gave it to me!"

"A hobo named Clark. If that isn't the first thing wrong with this picture then I don't know what is."

Blaine stopped bouncing to run a finger slowly down Kurt's chest. He smiled coyly at Kurt, a glint in his eye. "Give it back."

Kurt supposed that Blaine was going for seductive. He wasn't doing a very good job of it, though, because instead he just looked rather unfortunate.

With a decisive snort, Kurt slapped Blaine's hand away. "I don't believe this. You are such an idiot. You don't know what he put in here." He giggled the bottle in Blaine's pouting face. "What if it's laced with drugs or he made it in his toilet or something equally as gross?"

Blaine wrinkled his nose. "That's just silly. Clark doesn't have a toilet. She lives on the bench outside. She potties in the bushes. I saw her do it, Kurt!"

"Oh my god, you didn't."

"I totally did!" Blaine insisted, gleeful. Then he frowned. "And you know what, Kurt? You want to know what? She pees funny. She stood up. And after she did it; after she stood up and peed on the little bush with the pretty pink flowers - you know the one because I picked you a flower from it yesterday - she jiggled her hips. Like a man."

"Ohmigod, Blaine, pleasestoptalking. The continuation of our relationship and your space on the bed tonight depend on you being quiet."

Blaine closed his mouth with an audible snap and raised his hand in the air, waving it about excitedly.

Kurt sighed, suddenly very tired. "What, Blaine?"

"Can I have the bottle back?"

"No! No, you cannot have it back! I'm dumping it!" He started for the kitchen but Blaine flailed his arms wildly and blocked the way, jumping at Kurt at the same time.

"Nooooo!" Blaine wailed. "You can't! It's Clark's Birthday Bacardi! She was crying and she said that she hated herself and she kept saying that she wished she could have a drink cause it's her birthday and you can't just ignore a birthday wish so I gave her money and she got me a bottle, too, and that was really nice of her and you can't dump it!"

Kurt held Blaine's smaller but stronger body with his forearm, which he had strategically placed on Blaine's chest. "Jesus, Blaine, are you crazy? Stop it!"

"Give it back, Kurt! If you give it back, I'll kiss you!" Blaine leaned forward to do just that and Kurt yelped.

"No! No kissing! I am not kissing you until your body has rid itself of Clark's nasty toilet juice."

"I told you Kurt, Clark doesn't have a toilet potty. She potties in-"

"What did I say about talking!"

Blaine clapped his hands over his mouth.

With a parting glare, Kurt pivoted on his heal and stomped back to the box he had been trying to open. He placed the bottle in his lap.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Blaine slowly lowered himself to the floor and folded his legs into a pretzel shape once he got there. Eyeing Kurt somewhat nervously, Blaine scooted himself closer by shimmying his bottom across the floor, his arms stretched out at either side of him. Whenever Kurt looked over at him, he would freeze and quickly look away to glance around the room. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine whispered loudly.

Keeping his eyes on his work, Kurt ignored him.

"Kurt." Blaine tried again. "Hey, Kurt. Kurt. Hey. Kurt. Kurt! Kuuuuurt, Kurt, K-"

"What?" Kurt snapped.

"Do you still love me?"

Kurt eyed Blaine from his place on the floor. "For reasons I no longer understand," he said.

"For… huh?"

"It means yes."

"Yes, what?"

"For the love of - yes, I love you!"

"Oh, goody!"

"Goody, Blaine? Really?"

Blaine was quiet for about five seconds. "How much do you love me?"

Kurt glanced at him. "Not enough to give you the bottle back, so don't ask."

"Damn," Blaine muttered at the floor.

Finally, Kurt succeeded in opening the box.

"Hey, Kurt?" Blaine asked, peaking up at Kurt through his eyelashes as he picked at some lint on his sock.

Kurt sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. "Yes, Blaine?"

"Will… will you cuddle with me? If we go lay down on the bed? I was kind of looking at you, and you know, you're really pretty, Kurt. And that spot on your shoulder is all squishy on my cheek when we cuddle. I don't really want the bottle anymore. But only if you cuddle with me."

Well, shit.

"Okay, Blaine, we can go cuddle." Kurt stood up and held out his hand for Blaine to take. Blaine smiled a bit dreamily and let Kurt pull him up. Careful not to let either himself or Blaine knock over the bottle of Bacardi on the floor, Kurt lead Blaine to their bedroom. Kurt would cuddle with Blaine until the other boy fell asleep. Then he would go back and get rid of Clark's bottle.

Drunk!Blaine is kind of an adorable three year old. He's a silly little curly top but I love him.

So... like it? Didn't like it? Let me know.

And thank you to everyone who reviewed the first installment of this rather strange series!

-Cerez