*Jumps on the song drabble bandwagon*

So, here I am, writing more oneshots when I should be focusing on my WIPs :/ Well what can you do when you've got writer's ADD? You give the plot bunnies their way and hope they'll let you continue with your other stuff...

Anywhooo...These will be short, random, Klaine-centric drabbles based on songs. Variety of times/places. Rated T for now, might change.

Song: Call Me, Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen

Time: About half an hour

Mood: Relaxed

Words: 512

Setting: Future!Klaine in NYC

oOo

"Here's my number. Call me, maybe."

Kurt took the slip of paper with the hastily scribbled phone number and slipped it into his back pocket, tossing a smile and a wink at the tall blonde. Turning on his heel, he sashayed away to the beat of the music, and he could feel the man's eyes on his ass the whole way. He took a seat with his back to the bar, leaning his elbows back on the sticky counter, surveying the room. It was full of sweaty, grinding, half-naked gay men, and the sensual music flooded through his veins,

A curly haired man sat next to him, ordered two drinks from the bar, and passed one to Kurt. "What're you at?"

"Five. You?"

"Six now." Blaine twirled a business card through his fingers before sliding it into his back pocket, throwing a smirk at Kurt.

"Someone's got his swag turned on tonight," Kurt commented dryly, sipping the martini Blaine had purchased for him.

Blaine leaned forward, his mouth ghosting across Kurt's ear. "I've got other things turned on too. Just wait till I get you home tonight."

"Careful, you'll ruin the game," Kurt said softly, then more loudly, "I'm not that kind of guy. Better luck next time." With that he took his drink and walked away, leaving his husband staring after him as he rejoined the swarm of writhing flesh.

The music took him away, and he danced and swayed with any body that happened to be in front of him, or behind him for that matter. He knew Blaine would watch him for a bit, then join the crowd himself.

The first time they visited a gay bar in New York, Kurt and Blaine were in for a bit of a culture shock. It was nothing like the seedy little Scandals that they were used to… No, the New York gay scene was an entirely different ball game. Within ten minutes of them being there, Kurt had been hit on by two hot, buff, scantily-clad men, and Blaine was ready to leave. Another ten minutes after that, Blaine had another guy's number, and Kurt was livid. It was the first time they went to bed angry. Kurt was the one to suggest the game, after it seemed that they might have to give up gay bars altogether if they couldn't get a handle on their jealousy. First one to get a number didn't have to buy the first round of drinks. That night when they got home, they had the hottest, roughest sex ever, and a new tradition was born. The wager changed every so often. Tonight, whomever got the most numbers got to top when they got home. If Kurt was throwing the game because he was craving Blaine inside him, well, Blaine didn't need to know.

A familiar set of hands wrapped around Kurt's waist, and a familiar shape was pressed into his ass. "Seven. Give up yet?"

"Take me home," Kurt replied, thrusting his ass back.

"God, I love you. I love that you're mine."

"Always yours."

oOo