A warning: so this is pretty much pure crack. It's basically a fic of memes from tumblr, so if you don't use tumblr it might just be weird. If you do use tumblr, hopefully it's funny?

ALSO THIS IS PROBABLY CONSIDERED OFFENSIVE. Note that this does not actually portray my views of the Mexican culture, and Blaine is supposed to be an unintentionally racist idiot. Don't take it seriously, at all.

Also I got the outfit ideas off of Google Images because I have no imagination when it comes to clothes.

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Kurt couldn't believe that the school year was already ending. He also couldn't believe that Blaine was going off to France for the summer. Not only was he going off to France, but Kurt couldn't come with him. Blaine tried to persuade his parents to let Kurt come too, but they seemed to like the idea of Blaine being away from his boyfriend for two months. He almost decided not to go in retaliation, but Kurt pointed out that if he went he could get him all sorts of clothes and odds and ends as presents.

Right now, Blaine had to pack. His flight was the next day and he decided to consider packing now. What a boy.

And unfortunately, they actually were only packing. Whenever Kurt came over Blaine's parents usually insisted that they stay in the family room. Since they couldn't exactly pack in the family room, they allowed them to go to Blaine's bedroom, but only with the door open and them walking by every now and then. So besides the occasional stolen kiss, not much contact was happening.

But hey, this was the first time Kurt was in Blaine's room for more than a few minutes. That had to mean something.

"Okay," Kurt said, satisfied, "we've gotten all of your casual outfits packed. Now for some formal outfits. Where do you keep your suits?"

"In the closet," Blaine replied, folding his shirts.

Kurt looked around the room. The rich idiot had three closets. He considered asking which one, but figured it was easier to just do it by trial and error. Let's see….I've already seen the contents of that one and found no suits, let's try this one.

Blaine, realizing he didn't specify which closet, shot his head up to see Kurt opening that closet. Oh, no. "Kurt, wait!"

Too late.

Hearing Blaine's cry but not soon enough to respect his privacy, Kurt was half expecting to find a torture chamber, a bunch of death bodies, or a crazy twin by the name of Oggbert. He was almost ready to be creeped out.

Instead, he was confused.

What he found was a closet of….stuff. Very colorful stuff. On the top shelf, he found a ton of very brightly colored hats. A lot of them were sombreros…wait, were all of them sombreros?

On the next shelf, he saw a bunch of odds and ends things. Very large moustaches that he presumed one could attach to the face, a million maracas, several red scarves and cloths.

The bottom shelf was filled with CDs and books. Picking up a few, Kurt saw that all of the CDs were Latin-American music. Some of them were instructional salsa and tango CDs. The books were all about Mexico, Latino dances, and the culture in general. There was also a couple books on how to speak Spanish, and Kurt noticed that a couple of the other books were entirely in Spanish.

As for what was hanging, he saw an assortment of very colorful outfits. Some of them were simply shirts with maracas or pictures of tequila on them. Other ones, if Kurt wasn't mistaken, appeared to be matador outfits. On the ground there were a few shoes, presumably to go with the outfits.

Kurt slowly turned to look at Blaine, who buried his head in his pillow with shame. "Blaine…what the hell is all this stuff?"

Blaine just shook his head miserably.

Kurt wasn't sure if he should laugh or feel sorry for him. Instead he decided to just generally be weirded out. He went down to sit next to Blaine. "Blaine, are you Mexican or something? You certainly don't look Mexican."

Blaine shook his head again and looked up at Kurt. His face was bright red, as if he had done something horrible wrong. "I'm not Mexican, Kurt. It's just….a hobby of mine."

"A hobby?" Kurt repeated skeptically. "Blaine, hobbies don't tend to be kept in secret closets."

Blaine sighed, putting the pillow to the side. "Ok, it's more than a hobby. Kurt, I've been meaning to tell you about this for a while, but the timing was never right, and I was afraid you'd break up with me because of this. But since you already found the closet, I guess I better explain."

Blaine took Kurt's hands, looking him in the eyes. "Kurt, I may be Eurasian on the outside, but I am not on the inside. On the inside, I am Mexican. I am not just in love with their culture, I am obsessed with it. When I'm not in school or with you or the Warblers, I'm off at salsa or tango lessons. I attend every bullfighting competition I can, and I even compete. There, I am not Blaine. I am Señor Blainuardo."

"Blainuardo?" Kurt questioned. This was all too weird to process.

Blaine seemed to take it very seriously. "Yes. And you should know that this is not a phase. Since I discovered Mexico at the delicate age of 3, I have been like this. And I am never going to change. I will always be Blainuardo." Kurt noticed that he said that with a very Mexican accent. "So tell me, Kurt, can you accept this part of me?" Blaine looked at him so fearfully. This was ridiculous.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Kurt replied, rather confused. "I mean, I don't see what's wrong with it. Sure, it's a little odd, but I've seen weirder things. And hey, there are some pretty appealing dances. And I'm sure that you with a Mexican accent could be very appealing."

Blaine grinned. "Excelente!" he replied and oh God, what had Kurt gotten himself into? Well, if it made Blaine happy, Kurt supposed he would have to tolerate it. "Eez eet okay eef I call chu Señor Kurt from now on?" Oh dear, he was speaking with a full on accent now. Though it was kind of sexy….Maybe Kurt could get used to it.

"Sure," Kurt said, smiling sweetly. "Now, why don't you show me this closet of yours?"

"Sí, se puede," Blaine replied, and wasn't that a slogan for some worker's group from the 70s? "Just wait hea, Señor Kurt." Letting go of Kurt's hands, Blaine eagerly got off his bed and practically tangoed over to the closet. Kurt was wondering how racist this all was. He was guessing very. Well, at least Blaine's accent was pretty authentic, to Kurt's untrained ears anyway.

And suddenly Blaine was stripping and Kurt looked away, blushing brightly. They had been shirtless a couple of times while making out or cuddling, but they usually only focused on shoulders. It appeared, though, that Blaine wasn't trying to do a show. He was simply putting on one of the outfits.

Then it occurred to Kurt that Blaine's parents could walk by at any minute. "Blaine, do your parents know about this?" he asked.

"Uh, sorta," Blaine replied, not using his accent. His voice was also muffled from him trying to put on a shirt. "I mean, they have to be a little aware, you know? They have to pay for some of this, after all. But they never go into my room, and they've certainly never seen the closet's contents, so I don't think that they know just how extensive it is."

"Mm," Kurt replied. He pictured a younger Blaine holding up a sombrero catalogue to his parents, telling them which ones he wanted for Christmas.

Blaine finished dressing and turned around. He laughed to find that Kurt had looked away. "Okay, Señor Kurt, chu kin look up now."

"Okay, Señor Blainuardo," Kurt replied, deciding to play along. Looking up, he wasn't sure if he should be laughing hysterically or seriously turned on.

Blaine was wearing a bright red shirt that plunged down to around his navel. Over that, he was wearing jet black pants that flared at the bottom. It was more form-fitting than the usual uniform, though not as form-fitting as half of Kurt's clothes. It was rather flattering, if ridiculous.

What was the most ridiculous part, though, was what he did to his face and head. He was wearing a green and yellow sombrero, one that was very big and, when combined with the shirt, made him look a little ridiculous. Maybe that was the point? The most absurd part, however, was the giant moustache plastered to his face. It was obviously fake, both because it was quickly attached, and because it was way too big for Blaine to ever be able to grow on his own.

"Does chu like eet?" Blaine asked hopefully.

Kurt evaluated it. Well, he looked ridiculous, but Kurt did see some more ridiculous outfits in the closet. Maybe Blaine was testing the waters?

But did he actually like it? Well as a full time thing this would be a bit strange, but for right now? The plunge in the shirt and general tightness was very flattering, and while the sombrero was far from fabulous, it did hide the copious amount of hair gel Blaine tended to use. Say, Kurt wondered, did Blaine use so much hair gel because he hoped it made his hair look more Mexican? As for the moustache, well, this moustache in particular was a bit absurd to be attractive, but it made Kurt think that Blaine could potentially look nice with a real moustache.

"It's, uh, different," Kurt said. "Different, but nice. It's very, well, flattering for you. And hey," he added jokingly, "maybe you should go ahead and grow that moustache for real."

Blaine grinned, relieved that Kurt approved.

"So, uh," Kurt said, trying to bring the topic back to the fact that Blaine did have to be on a plane in 20 hours, "are we going to continue packing with you wearing that?"

Blaine laughed. Somehow the laugh sounded Mexican. "No, baboso," Blaine said, and Kurt made a mental note to look up what he just called him on his phone when Blaine wasn't looking, "Voy a bailar para ti." Didn't bailar mean dance…?

Oh God, it did.

Strutting over to his stereo, Blaine put in a CD. He then started dancing and oh dear, he was doing the Samba for one. How the hell was his hat and moustache staying on?

Kurt decided to just go with it and watch. It was endearing enough. So hey, his boyfriend was quirky. Who wasn't?

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Getting through the summer was hard. Blaine's laptop's camera died a couple of days into his trip and it would have taken two months for it to get fixed. So he had to settle for phone calls, texts, emails, and everything that didn't allow him to see his face.

Kurt often asked for pictures, but for whatever reason Blaine always sent pictures of just his eyes or body, or pictures of France without him in them. Kurt thought it was weird, but didn't think much of it.

Blaine didn't get back until the day before school started. Fortunately, now that he had transferred to McKinley, they could see each other at school.

Or maybe not so fortunately.

While walking from his car to the building, Kurt thought it was very strange to hear braying, especially since donkeys weren't exactly common in Lima. He turned to look to see what was going on, and was horrified to see Blaine riding the donkey, decked out in Mexican clothing. Instead of his form-fitting clothes, however, he was wearing a rainbow poncho and looser black pants. His sombrero was black.

"¡Hola, Señor Kurt!" Blaine said excitedly. "¿ How does chu like me outfeet?"

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing."

Blaine looks confused. "¿Qué pasa?" He asked, hopping off his donkey and tying it up. "I thought chu liked me Meheecan clothes."

Kurt sighed. He felt like he was going to have an aneurism. "In the comfort of your own home, sure, but now at school! This is your first impression with McKinley and you look ridiculous!"

"But Señor Kurt—"

"OH MY GOD TELL ME THAT ISN'T REAL."

"What eesn't real?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN."

"Oh, my moo-stache?" Blaine asked, stroking it. It looked just like the one he had on a couple of months ago, but smaller. How did he get it to curl like that? "But chu said chu liked eet…"

"In the comfort of your own home, Blaine."

"Por favor, call me Señor Blainuardo."

"I AM NOT FUCKING CALLING YOU SEÑOR BLAINUARDO." Kurt was starting to wonder if this was why Blaine's parents sent him to a school with uniforms. "Tonight you are shaving off the moustache, and from now on I am picking out your outfits.

Blaine looked sad. "Kurt," he said, dropping the accent temporarily, "you're not being very supportive. In fact, you're being rather unreasonable."

"How am I the one being unreasonable?" Kurt demanded. "You're the one who looks like Rachel Berry getting drunk in Cancoon. You know, auditions for Glee Club are today. You might actually be the first person to get rejected from the club."

"Ah, Kurt!" Speak of the devil…

Mr. Schuester approached the boys, sporting one of his many vests and a coffee cup. "Good to see you! How was your summer?"

"Oh, the usual," Kurt replied. How was he not baffled by Blaine? Might as well introduce them now. "By the way, Mr. Schuester, this is my friend from Dalton that I mentioned. He wants to audition for the club."

"Oh good! We could use another member!" Mr. Schuester then looked at Blaine, and seemed very confused. "Uh, and your name is…?"

"Por favor, Señor Schuester, me llamo Blainuardo."

Kurt was expecting Mr. Schuester to be incredibly weirded out, but to his horror he grinned. Crap, I forgot Mr. Schuester teaches Spanish. "Ah, so you speak Spanish! That's my subject, you know."

Blaine grinned back. Fuck, were these two going to turn Glee Club into some Spanish fiesta? "¡Excelente! Por cierto, me gusta el chaleco." Fuck, chaleco totally meant vest.

Mr. Schuester grinned even more. "Oh, I like you. Good find, Kurt!" And with that, Blaine and Mr. Schuester walked to McKinley, talking rapidly in Spanish, and Kurt considered taking Trent up on his offer of a date.

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OKAY SO HOPEFULLY THAT DIDN'T OFFEND ANYONE TOO MUCH. Sorry if it did! Again, I don't actually think this is how the Mexican culture is, it's how Blaine sees it to be.

Review?