One of the many awesome things about living in New York City was that you could either walk places or use public transportation. No need to drive meant no need for designated driver, though it was always a good idea to have at least one person keep their head about the.
Which was why Blaine was only buzzed as he looked around the club for his best friend and roommate. They'd been laughing and dancing, flushed with heat and drink and Sam's smile had just been a little too much for Blaine to handle. Sometimes it was hard to know how easily he could fall for Sam, but, as the other young man had never shown any interest, Blaine chose not to be that guy. He wasn't going to mistake an awesome bromance for something more, not even when Sam had come out as bisexual, rendering mutual attraction a possibility.
He stepped out for air to collect himself, then returned to find Sam leaning against the bar, clearly more than a little drunk himself. The guy next to him could obviously see that, but he was crowding close, and running along Sam's leg suggestively….
As Mercedes would say, Oh, hell to the no!
Pushing his way through the crowd, Blaine planted himself at Sam's side. "Hey, want to head home?"
The guy pawing at Sam's scowled. "I can take him home."
"Yeah. No."
"Blaine!" Sam bubbled happily, slinging a long arm around Blaine shoulders. "This is Tommy. Tommy, Blaine."
Blaine offered Tommy a curt nod and pulled Sam tighter to himself. "C'mon, Sam."
"I said…." Tommy began, but Blaine gave him a quelling glare.
"Back off," he snarled, pulling Sam along toward the door.
"Aw, Blaine, I was making friends," Sam murmured, leaning heavily against him.
"That guy was not the sort of friend you need," Blaine told him, tugging along the sidewalk toward their apartment. "All he wanted was to get into your pants."
Sam giggled. "Were you protecting my virtue, Nightbird?"
"Yes, because you're such a blushing damsel."
"Okay, maybe not," Sam agreed, cool night air doing a bit to take the worst of his drunk away. "So…maybe you did it because he was the wrong guy."
"He was so wrong," Blaine agreed, steering him around the familiar crater in the sidewalk.
Quiet for a moment, Sam shocked him when he continued, "And you're the right guy."
Blaine stopped short, causing Sam to stumble. "What?"
"I think you want me," Sam said, breath warm on Blaine's cheek, "And I want you, but were both so bad with romance and relationships that we're scared and pretend we don't. Years of wrong people, when the right one was in the next room."
Blood pounding in his ears, Blaine muttered, "Feeling philosophical tonight, are we?"
Sam shrugged, then hiccupped. "Feeling honest."
His hand was shaking when Blaine got the key into the front door lock, but he managed to get them inside. "Well, if you still…."
Sloppy and uncoordinated, Sam caught him in a kiss that took Blaine off guard in its passion. It'd been years since Blaine felt anything like this, felt such love and longing in fondness and real affection in a kiss. Sam tasted like smoky bourbon and he felt so good pressing close….
After several minutes, Sam pulled away and slumped back into the wall. "I've loved you for a while and I'm not nearly drunk enough to forget this, but you're right. We should talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Blaine agreed, unable to keep himself from extending a hand gently brushing Sam's cheek. "I love you too, Sam."
In the morning, over a vat of coffee, they talked.
Then they kissed.
It was even better completely sober.