Alright, so there are probably at least 10 other things I should be working on right now (including a Post-Its sequel, which is halfway written!), but this has been sitting nearly completed on my computer for months now, so I decided to just finish it up and post it tonight. Hopefully I will make a more productive update in the near future, but for now I give you this. It probably could have been a chapter in Hands but for some reason it felt more like a one-shot to me. Plus, I'm entertaining the idea of eventually writing a part two (because obviously I don't have enough other things to write). This is pretty much just shameless smut... oops?

Kurt was drunk. Well, no, that was a lie. A lie he was telling himself, actually. Because he wanted to be drunk. He desperately, desperately wanted to be so drunk that he didn't even know what was going on around him. Instead, he was buzzed. Tipsy at best. And tipsy-at-best really didn't cut it when you were standing in a crowded club, surrounded by way-drunker-than-you people and trying to forget the potentially relationship-ending fight you had had with your boyfriend two nights ago.

Looking back, he didn't even know how it had escalated so quickly. Blaine had made a comment about Kurt flirting with another guy, to which Kurt had responded that Blaine shouldn't be so controlling, and suddenly they were screaming at each other about everything from who had taken out the trash last to whether they were fooling themselves in thinking a high school relationship could last into adulthood. There were "fuck yous" and "get outs" and Kurt may even have thrown something. And then he was slumped on the floor, shaking uncontrollably and crying so hard he could barely breathe because Blaine had stormed out, and he hadn't been back since.

Hence the trying to forget. Which wasn't really working for him, because for some unknown reason that evidently involved the universe conspiring to ruin his life, he couldn't keep a goddamn drink down. He had never particularly liked the taste of alcohol, but tonight it seemed to burn all the way down his throat and into his stomach, and he just couldn't get himself to continue drinking. Which left him with tipsy-at-best, otherwise known as way-too-sober-to-be-here-right-now.

And then, as if the near-sobriety and the gyrating couples and the devastating potential breakup weren't bad enough, some smarmy looking asshole with irritatingly generic good looks came sidling up to Kurt and slid a completely unwelcome arm around his waist. Kurt looked away in disgust as Smarmy Asshole slurred an unoriginal "Hey, sexy" in his ear. Really? Really?

"Don't even bother," Kurt said coolly.

Unfazed, Smarmy Asshole tightened his grip on Kurt's waist and breathed, "Come on, don't be like that. I just want to talk to you." Evidently "just talking" meant sliding a hand southward and groping Kurt's ass. Forget smarmy - this guy was a fucking creep.

"Get the fuck off of me," Kurt snapped, digging an elbow into Fucking Creep's ribs and attempting to twist out of his grasp. But he wasn't strong enough, and Fucking Creep simply leaned in closer, grabbing at Kurt's ass more aggressively.

Then a fist came out of nowhere, and there was a sickening crunch as it connected with Fucking Creep's jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor. Kurt looked up gratefully at his rescuer, only to find himself staring into a painfully familiar set of hazel eyes.

"Stay the fuck away from him," Blaine hissed at Fucking Creep, his tone deadly. Then he gave Kurt one last look, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned on his heel. Kurt watched in shock as he weaved his way through the swaying crowd and exited the club. Ten seconds later, Kurt was sprinting after him, pushing drunk couples out of the way as he made a beeline for the door.

He emerged into a deserted alleyway - he had come out of the club's back door. It was chilly for April, and he rubbed his arms to warm up, wishing he had remembered to grab his jacket as he left. It didn't take him very long to find Blaine - he was leaning against the brick wall just outside the door, buttoning up his jacket. He looked up when Kurt appeared, and the expression on his face was hard to read.

"Thank you," Kurt said, because he honestly had no idea what else to say.

"I hope that wasn't too controlling for you," Blaine replied, and they both winced at the nastiness in his voice.

"Blaine."

Blaine looked down, scuffing the ground with his shoe.

"I thought you looked like you needed help," he mumbled.

"I did."

"Well, then."

There was an awkward pause.

"I should go," Blaine said.

"Don't."

Blaine looked up in surprise.

"I'm sorry. For everything," Kurt breathed.

"Me too," Blaine said, more than a hint of relief in his voice.

Kurt smiled.

"I just - it's hard for me to see other guys touching you like that - " he began.

He was cut off by their lips colliding as Kurt lunged at him.

"You don't have to worry about that," Kurt purred between heated kisses. His hands were already roaming, slipping beneath Blaine's coat and exploring his chest and stomach. He nudged Blaine's thighs apart with his knee, and Blaine groaned his approval at the sudden pressure against his cock.

"I want to suck you," Kurt breathed into Blaine's neck, where he was busily sucking a hickey.

Blaine made some sort of choked-off noise in response, and before his brain even had time to catch up with what was happening, Kurt's lips were gone from his neck and he was kneeling on the dirty ground, gazing up at Blaine with an absolutely devious look on his face.

Blaine's eyes widened. "Kurt, we're in public - "

His words were replaced with a groan as Kurt pressed the heel of his hand into Blaine's erection. "You were saying?" he said with a smirk, working at the button and fly of Blaine's jeans.

"Fuck," Blaine hissed, hips bucking of their own accord as Kurt reached inside his boxers and wrapped a smooth, firm hand around his length.

"Mm, we'll get to that later," Kurt promised, and Blaine's entire body shuddered as he realized the implications of that statement.

Kurt stroked him experimentally, the warmth of his hand a welcome contrast to the cool night air. Blaine's eyelids fluttered shut and he drew a deep, shaky breath, his fingers clawing uselessly at the brick wall behind him. He opened his mouth to tell Kurt to stop, that anyone could catch them, for crying out loud, but at that moment, Kurt dragged his tongue all the way up the underside of Blaine's cock, effectively killing that train of thought.

The pavement was digging uncomfortably into Kurt's knees (not to mention probably ruining his pants, ugh), but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much as he sank his mouth around Blaine's length and watched him arch off the wall with a strangled cry. He fucking loved Blaine like this, horny and desperate, his whole body trembling beneath Kurt's touch. Eight years in and Kurt could still reduce him to the equivalent of a quivering teenage boy. But God, he was sexy like that, with his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted in a silent moan.

Blaine's hands were restless at his sides, clenching and digging into the rough denim of his jeans. He was resisting the urge to pull at Kurt's hair, Kurt knew - it was an adorable but completely unnecessary attempt at chivalry that he often tried and failed miserably at. Kurt had broken him of the habit a while ago (he actually really liked it when Blaine messed up his hair, although he would never openly admit to that), but apparently Blaine was unsure of whether hair-pulling was appropriate makeup-blow-job etiquette.

"Do it," Kurt growled, briefly letting Blaine's spit-slicked cock slip from his lips.

"Hunghh?" Blaine said in confusion, looking down at Kurt with lust-glazed eyes.

"Pull my hair," Kurt ordered, shooting Blaine a smoldering look as he enveloped his length once more.

Blaine groaned and obliged, grabbing fistfuls of Kurt's silky smooth hair and tugging harder than he intended to. Kurt hummed his approval, and Blaine jerked forward at the vibration, thrusting his cock deeper into Kurt's throat. He didn't want to fuck Kurt's mouth, he really didn't, not when they had just made up and Kurt was on his knees in a fucking alleyway, but God help him, he couldn't control himself anymore. So he pumped and Kurt took it, Kurt with his perfect mouth and his fucking nonexistent gag reflex, and yeah, Blaine was a goner.

The cool night air pressed in around them but Blaine's hands were hot against Kurt's scalp and honestly, Blaine was too far gone to notice such simple matters as temperature. He felt Kurt's hands rolling his balls and oh sweet hell he was about to come his brains out in public, in a dirty alleyway behind some sketchy club and fuck, who knew that punching some asshole in the face would get Kurt so riled up? He glanced down at Kurt and goddammit, that was a big fucking mistake because Kurt's eyes were locked on his and Blaine could tell that he knew, he fucking knew what was about to happen and there was really no turning back now.

Blaine's muscles tensed and his hands clenched in Kurt's hair and then his orgasm crashed into him like a fucking freight train. He was pretty sure that stars exploded behind his eyelids (since when did that actually happen in real life?) and that strangled yell must have come from him, or else someone had turned up to watch the show and when he came down from this high that was going to be a very big problem. And then he felt Kurt's lips, warm and gentle against his lower abdomen, and his jeans were being refastened beneath Kurt's deft hands.

Kurt stood up and they looked at each other and for one, terrifying moment, Kurt was afraid that Blaine was going to tell him to fuck off, that this didn't change anything and they were still fighting. But then Blaine looped his arms around Kurt's neck and he was pulling him close and murmuring that he missed him as he pressed a kiss to Kurt's neck.

"Home?" Kurt suggested, and he felt Blaine's grip tighten around him as he nodded excitedly into Kurt's shoulder. He hadn't been back to their apartment in days - not since the fight.

"I'm going to fuck you the second we walk through the door," Kurt added casually.

And then he grabbed Blaine's hand and set off down the alleyway, Blaine wide-eyed and gaping and already getting hard again as he tripped along in Kurt's wake.

Ahem. Thoughts?