Okay, so, I've been on vacation, but I ended up writing this while I was away (because that's what I do in my spare time: think up ideas for fanfiction). I wrote this at like one AM, so if it's dreadful...sorry. I might end up editing it a bit later...tell me what you think? :]
The bathroom was bright. Like, really bright. A lot brighter than a basement bathroom needed to be, really, and Kurt Hummel found this extremely irritating as he locked himself in it, facing his red-eyed self in the mirror. He gripped the sides of the white porcelain sink and willed himself to be strong. To have...courage, he thought with a pang.
He jumped as cheers erupted outside of the tiny bathroom; Rachel and Blaine had evidently just finished their drunken rendition of Don't You Want Me, and clearly it had been quite the crowd pleaser.
Figures.
After a final get-it-together-Kurt moment to himself, Kurt unlocked the door and walked back into the living room.
Everything was pretty much the way he had left it; Mike and Tina were tangled up on the couch, Santana and Sam had disappeared, Brittany and Artie were looking very busy off in the corner, Finn was sitting on the couch as far away from Mike and Tina as he could get, and...Blaine and Rachel were attached at the mouth, gasping against each other as if their lives depended on it.
And it hurt. A lot.
Kurt tore his gaze away in time to see Finn surveying him with a pitying expression, which made Kurt feel even worse. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and a minute later, he felt his step-brother's comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I'm ready to go if you are," Finn said softly, and Kurt nodded, fighting back tears.
"Wait," Kurt choked as Finn turned to go. "I...I told Blaine that he could stay at our house tonight. I can't just...I can't just leave him here."
Finn threw an uncomfortable glance at Blaine and Rachel, then back at Kurt. He took a deep breath. "I'll get him. We'll meet you at the car."
A few minutes later, the three of them were riding in incredibly uncomfortable silence. Well, uncomfortable for Kurt and Finn that is; Blaine seemed perfectly at ease, screaming along to the radio with the window down, the chill wind plastering his curls to his forehead.
"Hey Kurt," Blaine slurred, pulling his head back into the car as the Ke$ha song ended. "Hey Kurt," he said again, leaning forward over the console.
"Yes, Blaine?" Kurt said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead and his hands on the wheel. Finn pretended to be absorbed in the passing scenery.
"Rachel's pretty, right? She's pretty, huh, Kurt?"
"Mm-hm," Kurt answered. "She is."
"You're pretty too, Kurt," Blaine said, leaning his head against Kurt's arm. Kurt swallowed and Finn shot him an uneasy glance; the three of them rode the rest of the way in silence.
Finn didn't stick around to help Kurt lug Blaine's dead weight up the stairs. He hooked one of Blaine's arms around his neck and tried to lead the stumbling and giggling Blaine up the stairs as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Carole and Burt, since they didn't exactly, ah, know how they'd spent the evening.
"Okay, you sleep here," he said, pushing Blaine down onto one side of the bed. "I'll be right back."
"'Kay," Blaine sighed, his eyes already falling closed as he spooned a pillow.
And for the third time that night (the first being as he scrutinized his outfit pre-party, the second at the party, and the third being now), Kurt found himself examining his reflection in the mirror.
He looked tired. And...something else, something he couldn't really determine.
"Kurrrrrrrrrrrt," Blaine moaned through the wall, followed by muffled laughter. "I'm colllllllld."
Kurt turned back to face his saddened reflection. After a moment of tense eye contact with himself, he splashed some cold water on his face, changed into his pajamas, and went back to his bedroom.
Blaine was sprawled out on his stomach, taking up half the bed, so Kurt squeezed in on the very edge, as far away from him as possible.
"G'night Kurt," Blaine slurred as Kurt turned out the light.
"Good night, Blaine." He lay in silence for a moment, before Blaine erupted into snores next to him. One minute he found himself chuckling softly, the next he found himself frozen with fear as Blaine rolled over and pressed himself right into Kurt's back.
Kurt stiffened; he was terrified, and that feeling only intensified as he felt Blaine's warm arms snake around him, pulling him closer.
"You have a warm bed, Kurt," Blaine breathed in his ear. "And you're very snuggly. Are you warm?"
Kurt swallowed and tenderly removed Blaine's arms, pressing them into Blaine's sides. "Maybe you should stay on your side of the bed, Blaine," Kurt said, and Blaine looked slightly hurt.
"But I wanted to cuddle," Blaine said softly, looking at Kurt through his lashes. "You don't?"
Kurt could feel Blaine rubbing his toes against his shin and tried very hard to concentrate, as this was the alcohol talking, not Blaine.
Blaine doesn't want you, he thought. At least, not anymore. He likes Rachel.
Which totally didn't make sense.
He is drunk...totally wasted.
Yeah, out of his mind. He probably has no idea he was kissing Rachel.
Maybe he thought it was you.
Kurt's stomach fluttered at the thought.
...but he said she was pretty.
She is pretty. Even you can admit that.
But look at him now. He's all over you!
He's drunk.
You know what they say...drunk actions are sober feelings...
Kurt shook his head to chase away the internal arguments. This was stupid. He needed to stay away from Blaine; he wasn't thinking straight.
But um...it looked like Blaine really wanted to cuddle, and who was he to deny him that?
But...
Okay, Kurt decided. I will not make a move in either direction. If Blaine tries to...cuddle...again, then so be it. But if not, that's okay too.
He took a deep breath, content-or, sort of-and fell into a stiff and uneasy sleep.
Kurt woke up, absolutely sweltering...with Blaine's arms wrapped around him, tight as a vice. He smiled softly, ruffling Blaine's hair with his fingertips; Blaine stirred slightly and snuggled closer.
And then, suddenly, Kurt remembered. His heart started pounding with panic, and he didn't know why...wasn't this what he wanted?
Of course it was!
But not like this.
He wanted Blaine to want him...plain, simple...and sober.
And then he heard his father calling to him from the kitchen; something about breakfast lessons. And then footsteps on the stairs.
Kurt looked down to Blaine's serene face and his slightly sculpted arms around his torso and how warm and strong and good they felt and-no! No time for this, Kurt!
He launched himself from the bed and into his bathroom, frantically searching for-yes! A moisturizer pad! Now pretend to be moisturizing...success!
Kurt peered around the corner to face his dad...just as Blaine sat up, looking around blearlily.
"Wha...where am I?" he said, as Burt gaped open-mouthed between them, looking a bit like a fish out of water.
"Er..." he said awkwardly. "I'll leave you two alone..." he said, and backed out.
Great.
"Kurt, what...what happened last night?" Blaine said, flopping forward once more. "Did I...oh God," he said, sitting up and looking at Kurt through red-rimmed, I'm-extremely-hungover lids. "Did I...like, do anything last night? Like...while I was sleeping?"
Kurt felt his heart flutter a little. "Er...no. Perfectly normal," he said, forcing a smile.
"Ugh. Good," Blaine said. "I feel awful."
Kurt looked at him for a moment, half sympathetic and half frustrated, before sighing and standing. "C'mon. I'll buy you some anti-hangover coffee."
Okay, so like I said. Not my best work, whatever.
I was actually thinking of doing more of these; certain scenes/episodes from Kurt's point of view? Yes? No? Maybe? You're just here for teh Klainez? Let me know!