Summary: Blaine Anderson is painfully shy and avoids any opportunity to socialise with people. His life changes one day when head cheerio Kurt Hummel, his secret crush, mistakes him for a stranger at a party and kisses him. When Kurt starts texting him two days later, Blaine decides to take on the persona of the attractive, mystery guy Kurt thought he met at the party. Can Blaine conceal his true identity long enough for Kurt to fall in love with him? (Nerd!Blaine/Cheerio!Kurt)
Authors note: I wasn't going to write this fic, and then I did, and now I'm having too much fun to stop. (Also because nerd!Blaine is the most adorable character ever and I just want to hug him forever). I hope you enjoy!
As soon as he entered the room Blaine knew that this was the last place he wanted to be. Finding himself trapped in a cramped, stifling room full of his older brother's drunken friends (most of whom went to his school and had never spoken a word to him) was his idea of a nightmare. Blaine hated parties. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been to one. Being labelled as a hopelessly socially inept nerd had its advantages: nobody invited him to parties or expected him to attend. He could spend his Friday and Saturday nights at home happily studying or reading a good book without having to worry about making excuses for his social phobia.
Until now, that is. Unfortunately, his brother Nathaniel had taken it upon himself to rescue his younger brother from his lack of popularity and had concocted a plan to improve Blaine's social skills: he would drag Blaine along to one of his weekly parties and force him to socialise with people. Not only had he managed to succeed in pressuring Blaine to go along with his plan (Blaine hated not being able to stand up to Nat), he had also confiscated Blaine's thick-framed glasses and hair gel in an effort to minimise the damage created by his stereotypically nerdy appearance.
"But I need glasses to see," Blaine had protested weakly, hoping that his brother would see sense if he pointed out the problem in a reasonable manner.
"You'll be in a small room – it'll be fine," Nat had said, unconcerned. "Besides, you want girls to like you, right? Without these you'll have sixty per cent more chance of getting laid before you're twenty-five."
"Yeah….right," Blaine had muttered. He couldn't tell his brother that girls were the least of his problems. The last thing he wanted was for Nat to find out that he had been bullied mercilessly after a popular football player had caught Blaine staring blankly at him one day in gym class and suggested to all his friends that Blaine had a crush on him. He hadn't even come out to his few friends in glee club yet, let alone his family. Just the thought of Nat knowing that people in his grade threw slushies at him and whispered "fag" in his ear as they passed filled him with fear and shame. He couldn't bear Nat to think he was even weaker than he already appeared.
At first the party hadn't been so bad. Apart from a few pitying glances thrown his way, the majority of Nat's friends had completely ignored his presence. He'd wandered around a little at first, hoping the movement would hide the fact that nobody was talking to him, and had retreated to standing awkwardly near a corner with his back to the wall.
After that it had just got worse. The music got louder and louder and the room became stifling as Nat's friends got drunker and their dancing became less inhibited. Blaine felt overwhelmed by the lack of air and the blurry, pulsing mass of bodies that filled his vision. His feet hurt from standing and his head ached. He caught a vague sight of Nat close by and felt a stab of resentment that his brother wasn't helping to make introductions for him like he'd promised but was instead hanging off the shoulder of a pretty blonde who Blaine recognised as a cheerleader. Of course Nat didn't really care about him enough to make this experience less of a nightmare. His social life and popularity would always come before his brother.
By this time, several of Nat's friends were so drunk that they no longer seemed to care who he was and instead kept trying to get him to dance with them.
"No, really, I can't dance," Blaine tried to protest as he was dragged into the pulsating mass by a giggling senior. He tried to get away but found himself trapped between several girls.
"Oh come on, don't be so shy" one of them pleaded. "Just dance. It's fun."
"Ooh, you're not nearly drunk enough," another giggled as Blaine tried to get away with just awkwardly shifting to the music. "Do something with your arms,"
"I have to go," Blaine mumbled. He managed to push his way past them, face burning with heat. Once he had escaped from the drunken throng, his eyes fell on the drinks table beside the wall. Alcohol. Suddenly he no longer cared about his previous reluctance to drink or to lose composure. He was going to consume as much alcohol as he could to drown his embarrassment and sorrows, and hopefully later he would throw up on Nat or that pretty cheerleader he was dancing with. Filled with resolve, he edged past two seniors who were grinding together as if their lives depended on it and made his way over to the alcohol table.
Without reading the label, he grabbed the nearest bottle and poured himself a cupful, before turning around and running smack bang into something solid in front of him. The person he had run into staggered backwards with a small "oof!" and Blaine stumbled towards him, slopping alcohol all over his shirt.
"Oh my god!" the boy exclaimed as he clasped a hand to his shirt.
Blaine let his gaze slide upwards to the boy's face and froze. It was Kurt Hummel. Breathtakingly beautiful Kurt Hummel, captain of the cheerleading team and probably the most popular person in the entire school. Kurt Hummel, who had thrown an ice-cold slushie in his face on his first day at McKinley. Kurt Hummel, the boy he'd been fantasising about ever since he was sure that he was into boys. He had just spilled alcohol on Kurt Hummel. Blaine stared at the front of Kurt's shirt in horror. Everybody knew how much Kurt loved fashion, and how much care he took in selecting a different designer outfit for every day of the year (when he wasn't wearing his cheerios uniform). That shirt had probably cost him more money than Blaine had ever owned in his life.
Blaine stared at Kurt's shocked expression and began to babble. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you – god – I'm sorry – I'll just – can I help you clean it off – oh my god."
Blaine braced himself, preparing for the inevitable tirade. This would surely earn him slushie-facials for the rest of the year. In fact, he was sure that his lonely yet pleasantly uneventful life in Lima was over. He might as well flee the country and lay low for the rest of his high school years.
Instead of the anger he was expecting, however, Kurt actually laughed and stumbled forwards, steadying himself by grabbing onto Blaine's shoulder.
"You owe me a new shirt," he slurred, stabbing a finger into Blaine's chest. "And maybe a candle-lit dinner at Breadsix – Breadstix. Hey, you're cute."
Blaine flushed. Kurt was clearly very drunk. He was also heavy, and Blaine had to take him by the shoulders to stop him from falling over.
"Oops!" Kurt said happily.
Blaine flinched as the wet part of Kurt's shirt pressed against his arm.
"Hey, d'you know where I can get a towel or something?" Kurt asked. "There's like, half a litre of vodka soaking through my shirt and that can't be good for my skin."
"Of course," Blaine stammered. "Just – come with me."
Nat's best friend Andrew was hosting the party, so Blaine knew the house fairly well. He steered Kurt out of the room and led him down a dark corridor to what he hoped was a linen closet. Pulling open the door, he was relieved to see shelves of sheets and towels inside. He grabbed a hand towel and turned around to pass it to Kurt, who was humming cheerfully and in the process of taking off his shirt. Blaine swallowed and tried not to stare as Kurt's hands clumsily worked at the buttons, revealing a long rectangle of pale skin.
"You're lucky," Kurt said as he shrugged himself out of the sleeves and dabbed at his stomach with the hand towel. "I bought that on sale."
Blaine barely heard what he said. He had already snatched the damp shirt out of Kurt's grip and was desperately scrubbing it with another towel. "It'll be fine," he said. "Just – just wash it when you get home and it'll be fine."
Kurt tried to grab the shirt from Blaine and ended up falling onto him. "You're sweet," he slurred, patting Blaine on the shoulder. "Can I borrow your shirt?"
"Um, no," Blaine said. "But I can find you another one." He dragged Kurt further down the corridor into a bedroom at the end. Hoping that Andrew wouldn't mind, he dug through a pile of shirts in the closet until he found one at the bottom that probably wouldn't be missed. He cringed when he realised that it was bright green and had a Transformers design on the front. "Here," he said, thrusting it at Kurt.
Kurt took it and then wrinkled his nose. "Wait – is this – is it synset – synthetic?"
"Oh no," Blaine said, panicking. "It's pure silk." His brain seemed to have blanked out. What was he doing? He couldn't dress Kurt Hummel in a Transformers T-shirt. The world wouldn't forgive him.
"Okay," Kurt said, apparently satisfied with Blaine's answer. He struggled to get the shirt on, succeeding on the second try. "Wow. I need some air. C'mere."
He linked his arm around Blaine's and dragged him back along the corridor to the party. Once they had entered the room, Blaine attempted to wriggle free so that he could disappear back to his corner, but Kurt's grip on his arm had suddenly become iron tight and he found himself being led outside before his brain realised what was happening. Kurt steered them around a corner to the back of the house.
"Sit with me," he said. He sat down on the edge of a concrete step, pulling Blaine down with him. It was cool outside and much quieter than in the house, though the pulsing base line of the music could still be heard.
Kurt crossed his legs and looked up the dark sky, smiling. "You're totally my knight in shining armour," he said, turning to stare at Blaine from under his long eyelashes.
Blaine blushed. "Yeah…well, it was my fault anyway. I just hope you're not upset about the shirt."
"Oh, c'mon," Kurt said teasingly, leaning into Blaine. "How could I be upset that a cute guy spilled his drink on me?" He battered his eyelashes. "Hey, how come I've never seen you before?"
"Um," Blaine said. Kurt clearly had no idea who he was. He shifted slightly, hoping the darkness would prevent Kurt from suddenly recognising him and realising what a loser he was.
"Cos you're like, really cute. You like me, right?"
"Uh, yeah," Blaine stammered. His face flushed again as he recalled some of his less innocent fantasies.
"Good, 'cos I really wanna kiss you. You're gorgeous. We should make out."
Blaine didn't have time to think of a response before Kurt launched at him, grabbing Blaine's face with his hands and pressing his lips against Blaine's lips. Blaine froze. His fantasies had not prepared him for the realness of kissing. Kurt's breath tasted like alcohol and he was clasping Blaine so tightly that his fingers were digging uncomfortably into Blaine's neck. And yet he was so close that Blaine could barely breathe and he was kissing Blaine like his life depended on it, his lips amazingly soft and moist. Blaine forced himself to unfreeze. He nervously slid his hand over Kurt's cheek and kissed back, trying to match Kurt's rhythm. His stomach gave an excited flutter as Kurt moaned into the kiss.
After a few moments Blaine realised that Kurt's right hand had left his cheek and was now sliding its way up his thigh. He felt a rush of heat travel down through his torso to his groin. Nat's comment about his lack of glasses getting him laid had seemed ridiculous only hours ago, and yet here he was – flushed and extremely turned on as Kurt Hummel stroked his inner thigh. His head felt light and dizzy and he tried not to think about the fact that he was embarrassingly half-hard in his pants. However, just as he thought that Kurt's hand was going to slide right over his groin (Blaine's heart nearly skipped a beat), it suddenly changed direction and slid into his pocket instead. Kurt broke the kiss and made a small triumphant sound as he pulled Blaine's cell phone from his pocket and started typing.
"What are you doing?" Blaine asked stupidly. He still felt slightly dazed.
"Giving you my number, of course," Kurt said. He was frowning as he typed, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.
"You're really cute," Blaine blurted out. His heart was pounding. He felt as if he had been waiting years to say that.
Kurt merely smiled and finished saving his number. He passed the cell phone back to Blaine and looked up with a crooked grin. "Wanna make out again?"
"Uh, sure," Blaine said, standing up. "Just, uh, let me get a drink first." His mouth had suddenly gone dry and he desperately wanted a glass of water.
"Oh yeah, get one for me too!" Kurt called after him. He stretched his legs out with a sigh and looking at the starry sky again.
Blaine stumbled back inside, head reeling. He couldn't believe what had just happened. A few minutes ago he had never kissed anyone and had harboured no hopes of this situation changing, at least not in the conceivable future, and now Kurt Hummel had kissed him. Kurt Hummel, who thought he was cute without his glasses. "This is the best night of my life," Blaine thought as he made his way over to the drinks table. To his dismay, Andrew intercepted him before he could get there.
"Hey man, Nat's been in some trouble. I think you should take him home."
"What?" Blaine replied.
"He got into fight with this guy. I think he's okay, but yeah, you should probably get him home before anything else can happen. Tell him I asked you to. And tell him it's his own damn fault for hitting on girls who are spoken for."
Blaine stared at him, his hopes sinking. "But I can't leave. I've got – I mean there's this guy – wait, Nat got into a fight?"
"Uh huh. He'll have a black eye tomorrow at least. He's over by the stereo with Elizabeth."
"Right. Okay," Blaine said. He tried to ignore the disappointment that was twisting bitterly inside of him.
"Thanks man," Andrew said. "I know how much you hate parties, but I'm glad you're here tonight." He gave Blaine a pat on the shoulder and disappeared amongst the crowd.
Blaine stood frozen for a moment, biting his lip, before he sighed and went to find his brother.