HI GUYS.
My attempt at Badboy!Blaine, because holy hell that's my biggest kink. Ahem. It's dedicated to my lovely partner in crime; Michelle. Because she's literally saving my ass by writing my notes while I write this :D
Thanks to the lovely ohsogleekyy! Just because you're you. You make me wanna keep writing, thanks love!
ENJOY 3
It felt like rocks were being thrown at his head with great force. His mouth was dry and it felt like it was full of cotton. His eyes were heavy and his stomach felt like it would explode if he didn't find a toilet - or a bucket - soon. And when Kurt Hummel finally got his eyes open, he had no idea where he was. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was looking into a pair of hazel colored eyes. He would've asked who the eyes belonged to, but when he opened his mouth it wasn't words that fell out. He didn't notice the bucket that was shoved into his arms, before he had his face half-way down into it. His throat was burning and his eyes filled with tears. He didn't think he'd ever felt this horrible. Not even his very first hangover had felt this bad. And he'd even vomited on a teacher's shoes!
Kurt sniffed and rubbed his eyes free of tears. Then he finally looked up at the person in front of him. He almost choked on the air he was inhaling. In front of him stood a very, very good looking man; his eyes were hazel colored and his hair was a mess of unruly dark curls. His lips were full and lightly pink. He had a piercing in one ear - Oh, Kurt thought. He has two piercings in the ear. One in the top and one in the earlobe. He was wearing a tight (Oh, look at those abs) white t-shirt with V-neck and a pair of worn light blue jeans.
He looked like a freaking gangster. And Kurt blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Don't rape me, don't rape me!" He scooted back in the bed.
"What the hell?" Even the guy's voice was nice. But that didn't change the fact that he looked dangerous, and he was swearing and Kurt was scared as hell.
"I… I'm not even… I haven't… Please don't hurt me!" Kurt felt tears come into his eyes again.
"Why the fuck would I hurt you? Even though you did puke on my floor." The curly haired man took the bucket from Kurt's embrace and placed it on the floor.
"I… I what?" Kurt stuttered and tried to stop himself from staring at the way the other man's muscles were moving underneath the tan skin of his arms.
"Oh I'm sorry, does the princess not understand?" The man said with a sarcastic voice. He ran a hand through the curly locks and then bent in his knees, so his face was right in front of Kurt's. "You hurled. Vomited. Emptied your stomach."
"Pr-princess?" Kurt was shocked. He hadn't met such an arrogant bully since he graduated high school. Granted, that was not many years ago, but still. "Excuse me, but don't you think you're being very ru-"
"No, I don't actually," the stranger interrupted. "Because you're lying in my bed, in my house, with my- Oh sorry, scratch that, you seem to have stripped in your sleep." A smirk - Oh great, even his teeth are pretty. Just my freaking luck - spread onto his face as his eyes roamed over Kurt's body. The brunette felt himself blush and covered his bare chest with the duvet. And then noticed that he wasn't wearing any clothes. At all.
"Oh dearest God!" He all but screamed.
"So you're religious?" The other man laughed and sat down on a chair next to the bed.
"What? No! But… Oh my God. What am I… How did I… Who the hell are you?"
"I should be asking you that."
"Well, I… I'm Kurt," the brunette stammered as he tried not to blush any more than he already did. He forgot his manners - but then again; who wouldn't in the presence of such a rude and arrogant and totally stunning man?
"Hello Kurt," the man said with a crooked smile.
"And you are?"
"Blaine," the man said.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow. Not the most typical name for a boy his age.
"Blaine." He confirmed with another smirk.
"So, um, Blaine. What am I doing here?" He noticed a joking spark in the other man's eyes and quickly interrupted. "Not as in your bed; I know what I'm doing here. But what am I doing in your house?"
"Apartment," Blaine clarified.
"Apartment then. But what am I doing here?"
"You don't remember anything from last night, do you?"
"Err. No, I'm sorry, I don't." All he got as response was yet another smile and another amused spark in those beautiful eyes.
"So, em, did we… Did I… Err. Have I…" Please tell me we didn't. I'd rather keep to my problem instead of having dealt with it this way.
"Had passionate sex with me the whole night?" Blaine suggested with a grin. Kurt blushed crimson and couldn't even come up with an answer. He opened his mouth but then closed it as no words were to come up through his throat.
"I…" He tried. "I… That's not…" Then he shook his head. This was clearly just the man's way of provoking, and Kurt Hummel did not get provoked. "Could you tell me, where my clothes are?" He said with a neutral voice. Blaine looked surprised for a while, but then turned a little in his seat and pointed at a drying rack placed in the corner. There hang Kurt's fabulous outfit from the day before; not so fabulous anymore. It was wet and dirty. And was that actually vomit? Kurt felt his stomach twist again; and not in a good way.
"Could I borrow something to wear then? I will clean it and send it back to you, don't w-"
"I won't worry, Kurt. You'd never keep any of my clothes anyway," Blaine said with a laugh and bent down to pick up a shirt from the floor. Urg, he wants me to wear his dirty clothes? But then he realized it must've been the shirt Blaine had mentioned before - the one he'd taken off in the middle of the night. And suddenly he got why he'd thrown it to the floor. Even in his drunken sleep his fashion-sense was active. And that shirt was not something Kurt Hummel would wear. It was a long sleeved, green shirt. The green color was nice and all, but the shirt was huge. It could've been one of Finn's - and it would still have looked big. He didn't realize that Blaine had walked away to find him a pair of boxers and jeans, before the curly haired man got back. He handed the brunette the clothes, and actually had the decency to walk out of the room again to let Kurt have some privacy.
Kurt rose slowly from the bed; supporting himself on the chair Blaine had just used. He slipped into the boxers and the jeans; while noting, that he didn't feel hurt. At least not where it should, if he'd been with this stranger. He walked carefully to the door of the bedroom and let his forehead rest against the frame. His knees felt wobbly, and he really needed some coffee. But first he needed to get out of this place and forget he'd ever been here. He spotted his bag and reached for it, but suddenly the world was spinning and he felt a pair of strong arms around his waist. If he wasn't so embarrassed he would've loved the feel of being so close to a firm body.
"Need a ride home?" Blaine asked with a laugh in his voice. Kurt wiggled out of his embrace and snagged up his bag.
"No thanks, I'll be fine," he said coldly and walked to a door he hoped was the front door. His luck was with him this time, as he opened up to a gush of fresh air.
"Sorry for the trouble," he mumbled and slammed the door shut. I hope he got it in the face, he thought angrily as he walked down the hall to the elevator. Now he just needed to figure out where in the world he was and then find the nearest coffee shop.
To say he was surprised when he stepped out of the building was an understatement. Not only was there a coffee shop just a few feet away, but it was also his favorite coffee shop. The one he went to every morning, before going to work. Because this was his street. Where he lived.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! No, this gotta be a mistake, it's just a similar streets, it's not… It is. No, no, no!
"Fuck," Kurt grumbled and dragged himself over to the coffee shop. There was nothing he could do about it. Please God-I-don't-believe-in; please tell me I didn't tell him where I live. Please.
He pushed the door open and inhaled deeply. He relaxed instantly as the smell of hot coffee hit him. Okay, he told himself. There's nothing to worry about. You just get your coffee, and then you go home and sleep it off. He stepped up to the counter and smiled at the young lady behind it. Mercedes.
"Hi hon. Just the usual? Or do you want something stronger? You look like you just got dragged in by the cat," the black girl said with a smile.
"You always know how to cheer a guy up, huh?" Kurt answered but still walked over to his usual spot. He knew Mercedes would come over with his coffee, and they'd chat. They always did, and that was just what Kurt needed.
"So, why are you dressed in your brother's old clothes?" Mercedes knew Finn just as well as Kurt, since they'd gone to high school together. Kurt was about to come with a bitchy retort, but then he remembered where he had the clothes from and blushed.
"Ohhh," Mercedes laughed. "It's not Finn's? Did my little white boy get some action? Not that it wouldn't be about time, Kurt," she added a little more seriously. Kurt bent his head. He knew where she was going and he really didn't want to talk about it.
"I didn't. At least I don't think I did."
"And what's that supposed to mean? You know it's been two years since-"
"Mercedes!" He interrupted. He didn't need to be reminded. "I just woke up at this guy's place, and I can't remember a thing that happened," he mumbled.
"Was he hot?"
"Mercedes!" He exclaimed again. This was so not a conversation he wanted to have.
"Well, a girl gotta ask. So was he?" Kurt couldn't hold back a small laugh.
"He was. Very."
"Are you sore?" Mercedes waggled her perfect shaped eyebrows.
"Urg, seriously 'Cedes?"
"Sorry, sorry, I'll stop now."
"Thank you," Kurt sighed.
"Are you going to see him again?"
"I hope not. He was rude as hell, and even so much of a hot body can't excuse that." They both giggled like little schoolgirls.
xxx
But Kurt wasn't so lucky. He should've figured. They lived in the same neighborhood, why shouldn't they go to the same clubs? But still. He hadn't expected to see Blaine - and especially not in Kurt's own favorite club. And not while he was out with the girls. He had just wanted a nice, quiet (as quiet as a trip to the club could be) girls night out.
Tina, Rachel and Mercedes were Kurt's best friends and they had figured tonight would be the perfect night to come to club Night Fever and watch some dancers perform. Rachel would surely spend the whole night talking about how she could've done it better than any of them, but that was just part of the fun. They arrived at the club at ten and found a table near the stage. But not too near; they all remembered that one time a dancer had fell off the stage and right onto their table.
The music was loud and Kurt was enjoying himself plenty when the DJ announced that it was now time for the entertainment to jump onto the stage.
"Tonight we have the pleasure of having some very talented people on stage!" He yelled into the microphone. Everyone in the club cheered and clapped. Kurt looked up to the stage, but there was more than one person up there, so who even cared that they were talented as hell? As long as they got some movement into their bodies, so everybody could be entertained.
The entire club fell silent when the lights went out. A guitar started playing an easy melody that sounded slightly familiar to Kurt, and then there were spotlights on seven men with their backs turned to the audience. Their right feet all bobbed identically to the low beat. Suddenly a very, very well-known whistling flew out the club and a drum started, which every one of the dancers now followed with their feet. Step, step, step, step. The man in the middle turned around quickly and then the song began.
Just shoot for the stars, if it feels right,
And aim for my heart, if you feel like it,
The man was wearing a head microphone and from the looks of it he was the one singing the song. The melody was sped up and with more erratic beats, but it was unmistakably still Moves Like Jagger.
Take me away, and make it OK,
I swear I'll behave.
"Did you see the way he winked at me?" Rachel exclaimed excitedly. She was bouncing up and down in her seat and Kurt rolled his eyes. Sure, he winked at you. Girls.
You wanted control, so we waited
I put on a show,
The man furthest to the right ribbed his black shirt open while he got down on his knees and danced across the stage in front of the others. Kurt was pretty sure he heard Tina choke on air.
Now I'm naked
You say I'm a kid,
Three of the guys stood on their hands and flipped impossibly high until they landed on their feet and then they danced on.
My ego is big
The man sang while pointing down to his- Oh God. That is just wrong.
I don't give a shit,
And it goes like this
The men all slipped on a pair of sunglasses in each a different color when the chorus began. The three flippers had yellow, red and blue on, while the man with the ripped shirt's shades were green, the two other men's were orange and purple. The lead singer's were pink.
Kurt had just taken a sip of his drink when his eyes fell on the dancers' outfits. The shades weren't just a coincidence; it was to match their suspenders. They were all clad in a pair of baggy dark jeans with neon colored suspenders hanging lose around their knees. The most horrifying match was the pink sunglasses and suspenders.
Then his eyes fell on the lead singer's face. And the sip of his drink was spat out all over the table.
No. Freaking. Way.
That was not a curly haired, hazel eyed, gangster looking, extremely rude and stunning man. That was not Blaine. In pink shades and suspenders. Dancing jump style with six other guys. On stage. In Kurt's favorite club. Singing one of Kurt's favorite songs; and he even sang well. Damn it.
"Ew Kurt, what was that for?" He'd almost spit his drink all over Tina.
"Err, I'm sorry, I- Um," he stuttered. What should he do? He couldn't just leave. And it wasn't like Blaine had actually seen him.
"I'll go get another drink. Anyone want one?" Kurt asked to distract himself from the way Blaine's muscles were moving under his damp skin when he jumped around the stage. All three girls shook their heads and kept watching the (for them at least) unknown dancers on the stage.
Kurt got his drink from the bar a few moments later and took a sip before turning around and taking a step to where the girls were still seated; gazing longingly at the curly haired man and his fellow dancers. He'd decided to stay, at least until he could find a good excuse to go home.
"Hey hot-stuff," a gruff voice sounded from behind him.
"Hello," Kurt said timidly as he turned around.
"Wanna go somewhere more private?" Asked one of the strangers who had come up to him with a smug grin on his face.
"Um, no thank you." Not in this lifetime; yuck! Kurt was about to walk away, when the blond one of the men grabbed him by his arm. He froze immediately. He faintly noticed that the song was coming to an end. He really needed to get back to the girls, so he wouldn't be seen.
"Aww c'mon babe," the first man tried again.
"Um, thanks, but no, I'm here with my fri-" The two men kept interrupting him.
"Ditch them, sugar," the second guy said and winked at him. Ew, ew, ew. Why does this always happen to me? Kurt thought as he tried to find a way out of the man's grip.
"Yea, you know you wanna go with us."
"I said no, I really don't-"
"Not like you have much choice here, babyface." The two men laughed.
"I-"
"No need to thank us, we're just being nice."
"Now c'mon." The men were about to drag him away, when a hand grabbed the blond man's wrist. At the end of that hand was none other than a sweaty Blaine.
"'cuse you boys," Blaine said in a cheerful, but slightly breathless voice. "But this one's taken."
"What the fuck do you think you're up to Anderson?" The blond man snarled, but let go of Kurt's arm. The brunette held said hand to his chest and looked all but terrified. A random thought flew through his head. Oh, so his surname's Anderson; sounds familiar. But he soon got something else to think about.
"Well, I'm mostly up for that guy," he smirked and pointed back to Kurt. "If ya know what I mean." He pushed down his shades and waggled his oddly suiting triangular eyebrows.
"Think you're funny, huh?" The blond growled and Kurt could see the men get angrier every passing second. Why can't he just shut up and run? "Don't mess with us, hobbit!"
"Oh, so we're that game? Well, I'd rather be the hero hobbit, than an orc or a talking tree," Blaine said with an arrogant smile; battering his eyelids. I'll hand it to him; he knows how to use that rude mouth of his.
Their argument continued, and Kurt eyed his chance to slip away unnoticed. He slowly made his way back to the table where his friends were and then he gulped down his drink in one go. He knew they'd never let him go, if they saw him with a drink.
"Girls, I have to go," he said a little out of breath.
"Why?" Mercedes whined. She was quite tipsy.
"No, don't go Kurt!" Rachel said and almost spilled her drink onto his very new, very Italian shoes.
"I really have to go, I have work tomorrow," he reasoned.
"Oh no Kurt! Not before you've met this amazing guy. Mike, this is Kurt. Kurt, this is Mike; he's one of the dancers from before," Tina gushed and looked at the other Asian with an adoring smile.
"Yea, Mike's real nice, and he's got hot dancer friends!" Rachel laughed. "They're not as talented as me though, I mean, I've performed since I was, like, three months old and-"
"Kurt, don't be rude!" Tina interrupted Rachel's talking-stream and begged with her eyes for Kurt to look at her new crush. All the girls wanted Kurt's approval of their lovers, but the brunette really didn't have time for this.
"Hi Mike, nice to meet you, I still gotta go though." It took a lot more talking and a promise of another girls night before he could send each of the girls an air-kiss and nod politely to Mike as a goodbye. He then finally made his way out of the club and ran all the way home; slamming the door shut behind him.
A/N: tell me what you think?
I do have some more written already, but I don't wanna y'know, drown you in updates and stuff.