AN: So this one actually requires a little explanation before you read, or it won't make sense. In our attempts to survive the holiday hiatus, someone on tumblr (I don't know who, wish I did...) came up with an amazing idea: what if Rachel and Blaine were siblings? This is my contribution to that idea; it's an alternate look at BIOTA with Anderberry siblings, if Kurt had never transferred to Dalton.
"Are you going to Rachel's thing?" Finn asks anxiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I feel like maybe I shouldn't go."
Kurt lifts an eyebrow. "You do whatever you want, but there's no way in hell I'm missing this. Everyone's going." A smirk. "This party is aptly named…every fiber of my being is screaming that it's going to be a total disaster, and yet I can't not be there."
"Haha, yeah," Finn mutters unconvincingly, gnawing his lower lip.
"Oh, just come," Kurt snaps, patience vanishing. "It's a party, it's not like it'll just be you and Rachel."
"I don't know," Finn sighs. "Are you gonna drink?"
"No, I already promised Mercedes I'd be her DD." He jingles his car keys loudly. "Seriously, Finn, if you're coming, let's go. I told her I'd be picking her up five minutes ago."
"I'll come," he relents, "but only because everybody else is probably going to drink and I don't want you to end up having to drive everybody home alone. I'll take my car."
"Oh." His brows draw together. "Okay. That's really cool, Finn, thanks."
"Eh, no problem," he shrugs, and Kurt throws a quick smile over his shoulder before he's shrugging into his jacket and bounding for the door.
He and Mercedes are greeted at the door by Rachel herself, clad in what is possibly the most horrid dress Kurt has ever seen. "Kurt! Mercedes!" she exclaims. "Welcome. Thank you so much for coming."
"Thank you," Mercedes drawls, lips twitching, and exchanges a wide-eyed look with Kurt. He muffles a snort, badly, and Rachel is completely oblivious.
"Come with me," she says grandly, leading them down the stairs. "Erm, Kurt, would you happen to know if—"
"Finn is coming," he interrupts easily, brushing past her into the room. "So this is the famous Berry basement."
"This is where we host our famous Oscar parties, yes," she agrees, beaming, and reaches out to jostle Quinn's shoulder as the blonde girl slumps past. "Hey, girlfriend! Having fun?"
Quinn makes a pained attempt at a smile, glancing to the far corner of the room, where Santana is wrapped tightly around Sam. "Yeah," she mutters, clearly far from enthusiastic. "Awesome…party."
Rachel's determined grin flickers. "Right. Well, um…"
She's interrupted—thank Jesus—by a series of loud thuds, and the arrival of a boy in a well-pressed uniform. "Rach, are you still…what the hell are you wearing?"
"Blaine!" she squeaks, throwing a slightly terrified glance to the wine coolers piled on the table, and moving ineffectually in front of them. "I thought you had plans tonight!"
"They changed." He shrugs, looking around. "I didn't know you were having everybody over tonight."
"Hi, Blaine," Santana purrs, having somehow disentangled herself from Sam. "I didn't know you'd be home tonight…"
"Uh, yeah," he replies, with a slightly nervous laugh.
Everyone else begins clustering around him (Kurt stares pointedly at his feet and tries very hard not to think about the fact that Blaine seems to have gotten even more attractive since the last time he was home, damn it all to hell), and that appears to be all the catalyst Rachel needs. "Blaine Anderson-Berry, I am having a party!" she shrieks. "And you are ruining it!"
"Rach, he's making it better," Puck says, a little patronizingly. "At least your brother's kinda fun. We weren't even doing anything."
A dull flush creeps across her cheeks and she clenches her teeth. "Well…well fine. Then maybe we should start! Let's party, guys!"
"Oh, God, what have I walked in on?" Blaine asks, laughing quietly as his sister pops the lid off a wine cooler and proceeds to start chugging it as fast as humanly possible.
"I have a terrible feeling about the way this is going to end," Kurt replies dryly, without thinking, and Blaine turns to him with the kind of brilliant smile that breaks his brain just a little bit.
"I could put a stop to it, but somehow I feel like it'll be a lot of fun to watch," he agrees, smirking. "You mind if I sit with you?"
"N-not at all," Kurt stammers, and then immediately curses himself for sounding like an idiot. Blaine doesn't seem to care, though, because he just keeps beaming and plunks down, shedding the blazer with one graceful movement.
Oh, God.
Someone turns the music up, to the point that the whole house is actually kind of shaking; with a whoop, Puck makes a mad dash for the bar and shouts, for everyone that will listen, that he will be mixing the drinks, thanks very much. "Do you want anything?" Blaine shouts, eyes glimmering with amusement, and Kurt shakes his head.
"No thanks, designated driver."
He nods, vaguely impressed. "Be right back!"
He does come back eventually, which Kurt is mildly surprised by—especially since Brittany had dragged him in for a couple of dances first. Kurt himself dances with Mercedes and Tina to keep himself from thinking about it too much, until they happen to notice that Blaine's on his way back and shove him back at the couch, giggling wildly.
"You havin' fun?" he calls, sipping from his second Jack and Coke. And Kurt nods, trying to look like he's looking at him without actually doing so, because it's gotten kind of hot in the basement, and Blaine's hair is coming free of the gel and curling in response, and at some point he's unbuttoned one or two of the buttons on his dress shirt and oh God that is just so unfair. "Really?" he presses, and Kurt repeats the movement. "Dance with me," he orders, and that's the first indicator that maybe he's a tiny bit tipsy, because he's been around Blaine dozens of times and that's new. But Blaine's already on his feet with his hands outstretched, swiveling his hips slightly to the beat of the music, and really, how is Kurt actually supposed to say no?
So he puts his hand in Blaine's and allows himself to be tugged to his feet. Blaine pulls him close immediately, comfortably, with his arms wrapped just high enough around Kurt's waist to keep it from being awkward. Except it still kind of is, because Kurt's never actually danced with a boy before, and suddenly he's wondering if maybe a drink might've been a good idea, to loosen him up a little. "This your first time?" Blaine asks, his lips close to Kurt's ear, and he shivers as he nods. "It's okay," Blaine replies, smirking slightly. "No judgment, it's just me."
And okay, weird, because that shouldn't really be comforting, but it kind of is. Kurt relaxes, slightly, and Blaine just keeps smiling his stupidly charming, encouraging smile. And the music plays on, and the girls are shrieking and laughing, and Santana is quite possibly sobbing all over Sam in the corner, but everything else has sort of faded away, as ridiculously cheesy as that sounds. Because Kurt likes this, likes dancing, and he likes dancing with Blaine. Because it's comfortable, and fun, even if Blaine is a little drunk and goes a little off balance sometimes; and he's looking at Kurt with heavy lidded eyes and something in the depths of his gaze that wakes a spark of heat in Kurt's own body. And Kurt finds himself pressing even closer without being self-conscious, without even making the conscious choice to do so. There's a heady, nameless emotion filling him, and it's just pleasant and kind of sexy, and for the first time in his life, Kurt's happy just letting things happen—and then, suddenly, the music screeches to a halt and Rachel's yelping, "Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?"
Blaine freezes for a moment, stares at Kurt, and then releases him with a rueful half-laugh. "She is so, so drunk."
Kurt's pretty sure that, besides Finn, he's the only one who's completely sober by this point, so he has no idea where it comes from, but suddenly he's tilting his head and asking, "You wanna play?"
"Spin the Bottle?" Blaine clarifies, arching an eyebrow. "With my sister and her friends?"
"We're your friends, too," Kurt corrects him boldly, suddenly grateful that someone had dimmed the lights so that Blaine can't see the blush rising on his cheeks. He holds Blaine's gaze for a long moment, and finally, he nods.
"What the hell."
It's fun because it's so ridiculous. Hilarious, in fact, because it's not that far of a stretch from the dating pairings that New Directions have managed to come up with. And everyone's drunk enough by this point that Santana doesn't even bitch when the bottle lands on Rachel, and they kiss with a little too much enthusiasm as Blaine laughs hysterically and repeats several times that God he wishes he had a camera right about now. "Your turn, your turn!" Rachel chants, stabbing a finger toward him (possibly as payback for all the comments, but possibly just because she's not quite sure what's actually going on). He shrugs, laughs, and gives the bottle an almighty spin.
Kurt doesn't expect it to land on him, even though he's silently praying to every deity he doesn't even technically believe in that it will; even though he's clenching his fists so hard that his nails are going to leave marks in his palms and he's holding his breath and absolutely willing it.
It lands on him.
He barely hears the catcalls and cheers over the roaring in his ears. Blaine looks up at him with the hottest grin Kurt has ever seen, and then, suddenly, they're surging toward each other, lips meeting in a messy kiss.
It's probably not technically a real kiss, still, but it's a completely different world from kissing Karofsky. Blaine's lips are soft and yielding and gentle against his own, and his hand comes up almost tentatively to caress Kurt's face. Kurt leans into the kiss without even thinking about it, and Blaine's tongue swipes questioningly against his lip. He opens his mouth willingly, tangling his fingers in Blaine's hair, and Blaine pulls him closer. There's nothing quite like this, and God, this is what kissing is supposed to be. He sighs into Blaine's mouth, and if the music weren't back on, he might have actually heard Blaine's answering moan. But it doesn't matter, because he can feel it instead, and his whole body fills with heat in response.
"Oh, hey, WHOA, OKAY," Finn bellows suddenly, and, startled, they jump apart. "I think that's enough," he continues, glowering, and Kurt knows that he should probably be embarrassed, but he just can't find it in him to care.
"Tina's turn!" Mike yells, already losing interest in the mini-drama unfolding before their eyes, and Finn drops it reluctantly. Kurt settles back into his spot, grinning to himself, and a few minutes later, Blaine switches seats with Puck and crawls next to him.
"I've wanted to do that for a while," he admits, in a throaty whisper that makes goosebumps erupt all over Kurt's skin.
"M-me, too," he confesses, his voice embarrassingly breathy, and a wolfish grin takes over Blaine's face.
"I think maybe you should spend the night."
AN (2): There's a part two, and there will be a part three very soon! :D If you want to find me on tumblr (where this was originally posted), my url is jesski10.