Genre: Romance/Friendship

Pairings: Rachel Berry & Blaine Anderson (Blainchel, Raine), Quinn Fabray & Sam Evans (Fabrevans)

Rating: K+ (there will be smut in a later chapters with a separate warning each)

Summary: Blaine Anderson meets Rachel Berry in a London pub and convinces her to spend the last night of his European vacation roaming the city with him. In a whirlwind night they fall in love but have to part the next day. Back in New York, Blaine's single Mom- room mate Quinn Fabray takes the fall-out from Blaine's overnight romance having to deal with late night calls and broken hearts. On the other side of the ocean, Rachel's brother Sam is equally annoyed with his baby sister and sets her up for an internship in New York. And so begins a trial run for a relationship that could potentially be the best thing they ever had – but can they make it work?

Status: Chaptered, In-Progress

Everything On It

"If we were honest and both wrote a sonnet together
a sandwich with everything on it,
at least we would know that the sparks didn't glow
but we owe it to ourselves to try,
so we aim and ignite!" - A Roman Candle by Fun.

Chapter One

It seemed like there wasn't a single bar in this town that didn't have karaoke night some day of the week and somehow Blaine had managed three nights of his week there to seek out those pubs where the least talented, boozed up, red-headed rugby players sang "Three Lions". The air was dense and humid in the corner pub, the dark wooden wagon wheels lining the walls and tinted windows giving it a rusty, traditional charm. There where molds in the walls that had been turned into bookshelves, old photos, paintings and some vintage postcards hung scattered around as decoration and the occasional plastic plant stood in that or the other corner. He felt a little like the hobbit returned to the shire.

Still, most guests didn't pay much attention to the interior, too busy celebrating their love for soccer with the hopelessly wasted group of singers swaying around on stage. Or football as they called it, whatever.

The joint was reasonably full so Blaine couldn't keep up his attempted conversation with the Barkeeper as the latter had to pace back from one end of the bar to the other to keep passing out Guinness and Cider and Lager and all kinds of other alcohol Blaine had learned to be careful with. These Europeans knew how to hold their liquor and apparently that was why all their alcoholic beverages were stronger, hitting his American stomach harder than what he was used to.

He would probably finish his pint of Cider and try to find some other thing to do, maybe give the nerdy Couchsurfer he was staying with another call to ask him for company.

Grayson was a nice enough guy, letting Blaine crash on his couch for two nights and based on his Internet profile he'd seemed cool, listing a long line of video games he loved and how he lived in Kensington, a really trendy part of town. But it had turned out that Grayson neither cared much about going out nor knew anything about his hip neighborhood at all. Instead, he was very serious about his Counter Strike scores and Blaine's night had resulted in fruitless attempts of getting the younger guy to go outside with him and then finally, after letting himself get killed at Grayson's flank, albeit becoming useless for his tactical efforts in the game, went out alone.

This was a definite blow to his plan and not at all what he had expected from his last night in Europe.

He'd had a great deal of fun already, starting in Italy, taking a short detour to Barcelona, then Vienna, Frankfurt to visit his German relatives, Berlin because he loved the city, Paris and then finally London for a long weekend before he had to head back to New York to resume his work as freelance journalist and full time politics blogger.

Tomorrow at 12 PM, he had to be at Heathrow airport and eight hours later would touch down in New York again. It would be a crying shame if he'd spent the night sulking away playing video games with a cellar dweller because he couldn't manage to find something better to do.

"Want another one?", the barkeeper asked Blaine with a wink to his nearly empty Cider, shaking him out of his thoughts and he noticed the rugby choir had descended from the stage.

Blaine was about to shake his head no and step outside to find some nightclub when a considerably more pleasant voice wallowed through the room from the stage.

"Is this thing on?", it was a girl speaking with that British accent that weirdly turned him on because the most random thing suddenly sounded smart in his ears. And Blaine was a sucker for smart.

Even back in High School, he had picked his longterm girlfriends for wits and brains, rather than tits and legs. He simply didn't see the appeal in spending time with someone who couldn't hold a conversation. If the relationship should be for anything other than a night of fun she would have to at least be able to do that. He could imagine few things worse than being stuck with someone he couldn't talk to – an endless chain of awkward silences, dotted by second-hand embarrassment if she was really stupid and the things she did say would be horrendously wrong and/or ridiculous. No, he liked his girls smart and sharp and so far he hadn't regretted that. Only that apparently the smart girls hid from him, resulting in his single-dom for the past year.

Not to say he didn't have sex. He was, after all, a guy and jerking off only did the job for so long but Blaine prided himself with honesty. If he wanted someone for sex and sex only, he made sure the girl understood and agreed. He didn't want bad feelings or a guilty conscious over someone who'd expected a great big love affair. The past year had shown him though that more girls than people would imagine were perfectly fine with just having a night's fun and that's it.

The dirty guitar riff of "I Love Rock'n'Roll" filled the pub and all around him heads started to nod and from somewhere a crowd of high pitched "Wooooo"'s erupted as the girl started singing. Blaine was curious. Maybe, if this girl looked like she sang, he would try and figure out if she was up for some fun. A European hook-up would be the icing on the cake for him.

"Mate?", the bartender said again and knocked his knuckles at the wood of the bar, "You want another one or not?"

"Yeah, go ahead", Blaine nodded, passing over his glass, "Thanks buddy"

Blaine payed his three pounds for the drink and vacated his seat on the bar to push through the thickening crowd, around the corner to the stage to see the body that belonged to that beautiful, slightly slurred voice.

Her movements were slow and sensual, as if someone had pressed the slow motion button and Blaine was speechless for a second, his eyes momentarily falling to her tiny waist.

She wore a black corset like top with a line of buttons holding it all together. Her skinny jeans sat on her narrow hips and his eyes stuck on the little bit of bare skin between the top and the stonewashed blue jeans that hugged her legs tightly. Her right knee was visible through a gaping whole in the fabric but Blaine quickly carried on his once over, acknowledging the black heeled boots peaking out from under the rim of the jeans and finally gazed up to examine the rest of her.

Long wild, black hair framed her longish, oval face, the shape perfect to fit her pointed and prominent nose. It was her most obvious feature, her trademark possibly but as soon as he looked, it led his eyes down to her big sensual mouth and Blaine was hit hot with a wave of images, picturing that mouth stretched around him. He could almost feel it on him and grunted quietly into his Cider as his dick twitched up against the thick linen of his pants, meeting resistance feeling a little like the one he'd meet when he hit the back of her throat.

Focus, Anderson, he scolded himself. It had been too long since he'd last had sex. The whole month and a half he'd been traveling he hadn't had a girl and some three weeks before that in New York.

It was only natural that she would intrigue him. She was just his type, dark haired and a little exotic. He thought she could be a little wider around the hips but he could see from his vantage point as she danced to the beat that she had a perfect, apple-bottomed ass to make up for the slight lack of curves. His eyes ran over her frame for the final assessment and he approved her. She was not only so hot it dried his throat, she also seemed to convey a great big deal of personality through her performance, she seemed cheeky and funny, confident and determined. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl he'd seen on his journey altogether.

The song continued, people kept cheering and Blaine was still hot. He tried to stand broader, make himself a little taller so that she would maybe catch his eye with her dark brown ones but it was no use. She alternated from looking to the screen with the words to a huddle of girls sitting in a corner nearby, screaming the kind of frivolities best girlfriends screamed at each other in public places after some drinks in their systems. "Hot damn, Mama", an Asian girl yelled at her when Blaine looked over and she threw her hands over her head, pumping up her fists and pursing her mouth. She was pretty too but she had nothing on the girl on stage.

When the song ended, Blaine felt a dagger of unease, he didn't want her to climb down from the stage, watching her disappear briefly into the crowd. He wanted to keep watching her dance and sing and sway those tauntingly tiny hips from side to side and lick her lips and hit them against the microphone. But he could only make out the back of her head now as she fought her way back to her friends through the crowd. There was not a single man she passed on her way that didn't turn to look at her. A current of competitive jealousy ran through his body and he mindlessly followed her, trying to swallow a knot of nerves forming in his throat. But what did he have to lose? It was his last night and all she could say was no.

"Hi, I'm Blaine, can I buy you a drink?", he said upon touching her elbow before she even had a chance to climb back onto her bar stool, "You have a really great voice"

A flicker of pride crossed her dark brown eyes but most pronouncedly she sported the wary kind of sarcastic look the certain type of girl she appeared to be threw on at an unwelcome intrusion by a male. The kind that said 'I am unavailable and not interested but let's watch you try'. Normally this would've turned him off but in her case – probably because he thought it was an insanely sexy British thing to do – it spurred him on.

"Why thank you", she finally said with a small smile and Blaine could feel three sets of other eyes on him, her girlfriends practically holding their breaths watching the scene.

For a second he was worried that they were bracing themselves for a laugh, maybe the brunette was a bad mouth and would humiliate him in a second, maybe they had seen many a poor guys trying to hit on their friend, each and everyone failing at a wall of superiority.

"So, um...", he started, cursing his throat for drying out, making it necessary to clear it, causing an awkward pause and making it seem like he was nervous – he wasn't, absolutely not nervous at all – and he propped his elbow on the girl's table casually to cover it up and seem cool, "Do you want a drink?"

"I couldn't possibly sit here and drink free beer when my friends are starring at empty glasses, that's horribly impolite", she quipped, an eyebrow raised and pushed herself onto her stool from the table.

The table rumbled by her movements and had Blaine slipping, his elbow falling from the wood into nothingness and he had to catch himself in midair, something that must've looked like a clown-move because the whole of the girls table was laughing.

"Fine, drinks for all of you", he trumpeted, mostly to distract them from his mishap and soon enough, the news caught on and they cheered again.

"I'd like Sex On The Beach", the Asian girl cooed with a wink and the caramel haired girl beside her giggled.

"Cosmopolitan", she giggled on, probably thinking she came straight from Sex And The City but Blaine knew New York girls and he'd never seen someone try so hard to seem like a big city tough shot where he was from. In New York, girls – at least the girls he met – where all about understatement.

His room mate Quinn for example. He'd met her the first time in a bar in the Village in a quite similar situation. She looked collected and sophisticated and drank Club Soda watching Blaine do his thing with an amused calm and casual ease.

He'd tried hitting on her friend Santana and they had let him have a good run at it – while they were having a pretty good laugh because half an hour and three Apple Martinis later Santana flung her arms around the other blond, Brittany, at the table and french-kissed her for about two minutes.

"Sorry, not on your team", she had laughed and Blaine had been the butt of the joke just like he was now.

"I'd like a Tropic Thunder", the third one, a round black girl with rosy cheeks and colorful clothes, said now, stopping Blaine's swoop down memory lane and lastly, his brunette tilted her head and glanced down at the menu on the table.

"Pint of Lager", she ordered with a glint in her eye and then smiled, "Please"

He'd left his Cider at the table with them, which had been a good idea, he thought as he tried to carry four Cocktails and the pint of Lager back to them without spilling. That was of course an impossible task but as he handed the glasses over they didn't seem to mind that at least a third of their drinks had run over his wrists to the floor.

After he'd passed on the beer, he slipped onto the offered bar stool and tried to lick his fingers off of the sugary, sticky spill.

When he looked up, she was starring at him, "We're waiting for you to toast with us"

"Oh", he muttered and grabbed a hold of his Cider, "Of course"

"Cheers", the girls all chimed and hit their glasses together in the middle.

"To our generous donor", the brunette laughed, "Who still hasn't managed to ask us for our names"

Blaine's eyes got big at her grin and it took him a second to remember how to speak. Up close like this, she was even more beautiful than from afar, "I'm sorry"

"It's fine, you got us drinks", the Asian quipped, "I'm Tina"

"Sugar Motta, nice to meet you", the caramel haired girl said with a deliberately lowered voice, shaking his hand over the table.

"Mercedes Jones", the black girl said with a nod.

Blaine nodded back politely and then waited a second before turning over to the only girl he honestly cared to know the name of.

"I'm Rachel", she said.

Rachel. That was a nice name. Short and neat and it fit her well. He'd probably shorten it for bed though, he thought. If he would get her to bed. He thought he could maybe possibly get there if he brought his A-game. And stop his palms from sweating like crazy and his throat from being so dry.

"So tell me, Blaine", Rachel started and he focused his attention back fully on her, watching her mouth move and eyes flicker, "Where are you from?"

"New York City"

"Really?", he could see she was trying hard to conceal her curiosity and joy. He could tell from her straightening posture that he had met another NY-Fan. There were plenty to go around in Europe but it had never benefited him as much as it did now.

"I live in the Village, it's pretty neat", he said. Really, it was all kinds of pretentious and ridiculously expensive but that probably wasn't what Rachel wanted to hear, "Have you ever been?"

"Twice", she said and her eyes glimmered mesmerizingly, "I love Broadway shows, so do my Dads"

Blaine paused, "Excuse me, did you say Dads, as in plural?"

"Yes", she said, features hardening for a second, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, of course not", he hurried to say, "No problem, I was just curious, sounds like an interesting family history"

"Not too interesting really. They had a surrogate to have me and when I got older I wanted a big brother so they adopted Sam", she told him, "We're just a regular family"

"Sam's tall and strong", Tina threw in, eyes glossy as if she saw the mystery man in front of her inner eye.

"Scary dude", said Sugar warningly in a poorly mimicked American accent and Blaine got the hint.

They were drawing a close circle around Rachel. This was gonna be a challenge. And he accepted it.

"Is he around somewhere?", he asked with a lopsided grin that usually did the job to soften any fury or animosity sent his way. It didn't fail this time either.

"He's finishing his new book", Rachel said, "He hasn't left the house for a week"

"He's a writer?", Blaine asked, legitimately curious.

"Novelist", Rachel said, "Not too famous yet but he won a couple of newcomer prizes. He writes crime novels, publishes under his birth name, Samuel Evans. You might know 'The White Widow'? It got published in the US", she told him but he shook his head, never having heard of it, "You should read it, it's really good"

"I will", he promised, "I'm a writer too"

"Really?", she seemed doubtful.

"Well, journalist more like", he said, "I write for the New York Times, the politics section but mainly I blog"

"Blog? So you post vintage-like photographs of street style and hipsters?", Rachel mocked.

"No", he protested between the giggles of the other girls, "I write. Like I said, it's a politics blog. Inside scoop and all that jazz. It's got a pretty huge following"

"A-huh", Rachel nodded amusedly, still mocking him, "Whatever you say"

He looked at her for a second then down to his watch, then back to her, narrowing his eyes and made a tactic decision, "Okay, fine, whatever. I gotta go"

He could see her eyes widen and her body shooting up from the corner of his eye as he turned to grab his stuff and leave.

"Hey wait", she said and touched his wrist, "I'm sorry. I'm sure you're really important, I didn't mean to be a bitch. You don't have to leave"

"It's very cute that you think I'd go because you insulted my ego but I really have to go, I'm meeting a friend at this night club nearby", he said, pokerface tightly in place.

"The 39?", Rachel said, standing opposite him as she'd wiggled off her chair to keep him from leaving.

"Yeah, that one", Blaine replied, happy that his plan worked somewhat. Of course he had no idea about nearby clubs and he wasn't meeting with a friend either – but she didn't know that, "So unless you want to come with me, I really have to go"

Rachel deliberated and her hesitance to say no made him smile. He was well on his way into her pants.

She glanced back to her friends who shrugged, Sugar saying she wanted to go and Tina saying she absolutely did not. Rachel took a deep breath before turning back to him.

"Yeah, no", she said, her business-like smile back on her face, "I can't, but you have fun"

Blaine nodded unfazed and slipped into his jacket, "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be there for a while. Goodnight ladies"

Blaine turned on his heels and didn't look back, simply hearing the girls behind him wishing him a nice night as well and then he already pushed through the crowd to get outside, into the brittle spring night and zipped up his coat. He only had to find that club now...and then wait.

Review if you want more :) Really, first chapters are always kinda like pilots, so tell me what you think and if you want to read on.

The next chapter will be up at 7 reviews.