Title: Diva, Best Believe Her
Author: Claddagh Ring

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

AN: Set after 4.13 "Diva" because somewhere along the lines, I was persuaded that I wanted Blaine Anderson and Kitty Wilde to just basically be really hot together.

AN2: I'm not sure that's how it actually turned out.

He must not have been as over his cold as he thought, because a fever dream was the only plausible explanation for the words that rolled off of Kitty Wilde's lips:

"I understand that you're all about the D but you look super delish in those pants and Kitty needs a little look of her own."

Blaine blinked slowly, glancing instinctively down as his regular old last season jeans, the deep red having faded just enough he had to call them maroon now, before looking back at the little blonde smirking at him like she hadn't just thrown a rather blunt and tactless proposition at him out of nowhere.

"I don't-" he stammered, caught too far off guard to even begin to know what to say. "Kitty I think you're great but-"

"Please." she scoffed, rolling her eyes more dramatically that he could remember even Rachel doing, and moved closer to him until the stack of books she had her arms folded over hit him in the chest. "Let's get one thing straight: I'm not in love with you Anderson."

Well, that was a relief, at least.

"But ever since Puck ran back to LA with his tail between his legs after the glorious Quinn Fabray yelled at him for hooking up with me at Sadie Hawkins, I've been holed up in my room with a lot of dead batteries."

"I don't think I understand." He wasn't sure why he was whispering. She looked at him expectantly, her eyebrow perfectly arched as if he somehow owed her something, and she had a very clear idea of what that something was.

"I want sex," she said, her knee wedging between his, crooking just enough that it pressed against the inside of his thigh, "and you have good hips."

He just blinked at her again, trying to remember when in his life they'd had a conversation just on their own, not as a group in glee with ancillary comments thrown in each other's general vicinity. He couldn't think of a single instance, but here she was, jumping straight from the usual niceties of small-talk and getting to know each other to... sex.

"Kitty, I really, I'm flattered," he said, still whispering even as she dropped her knee and turned to lean against the locker, her arms brushing against his. The longer she smirked at him, the more her admittedly gorgeous hazel eyes wandered anywhere that wasn't his face, he could feel a blush rising up his neck. "But I really don't think I'm the right person to- um, help you, with that."

"God," she groaned irritably, snapping her gaze away from him hard enough that her ponytail swung and hit him on the nose. "Just because you're gay doesn't mean you have to act like you constantly have a dick up your ass."

"I'm pretty sure that's offensive," he commented, his eyes narrowing for just a moment before he let it slide; he'd heard worse, after all, from people he actually knew and liked. Kitty, for the most part, was harmless, even if she had that same bitter, stinging way with words that reminded him more of Santana that her designated counterpart Quinn.

"I'm pretty sure you're hot," Kitty responded, turning back to look at him, a hand falling to the crook of his elbow. Her fingers trailed up to his shoulder slowly, tickling his jaw before her arms wound around his neck, pulling him down enough that she could whisper in his ear if she stood on her toes. "If it makes you feel better, you can turn off the lights and we can go at it from behind," she said huskily, her teeth grazing against his ear; his mouth went dry involuntarily as her words had the effect she obviously wanted them to. It was just a flash, naked skin slicked with sweat, his head nestled against the small of an unknown back as he came down and tried to catch his breath, collapsing into rumpled sheets with a hot, sticky body pressed against his.

"I just need something with a boy attached instead of a hand, you know what I mean?"

He sighed wistfully, trying not to glance over at the picture of Kurt he still had tacked up in his locker; the sad thing was, despite how crudely she had put it, he did understand. It just wasn't the same without warm skin pressed against his chest, soft hands tickling over his ribs, lips gentle on the side of his neck. His body still craved it, opening up for the touch that never came, no matter how hard or fast his orgasm came. Having someone there made a difference, even if it wasn't the one he really wanted.

"I mean, that's how you do it right?" she asked, her voice normal as she was suddenly back against the lockers, hands to herself.

"There are actually a lot of different positions I can do it in," he muttered with a shake of his head, trying to dispel the images she'd managed to conjure up for him. He wasn't even all that attracted to her - she was beautiful, with a tiny waist and hair soft enough to be someone's wet dream - but the idea of it, after going so long without it, was enough to make him twitch just enough to consider that... maybe...

"Great, you can teach me," she answered for him, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him through the front entrance, door swinging shut behind him with a loud bang. "I have a room waiting for us on the other side of town, because it's a slumhole and Jesus is busy overseeing the renovation of the Celestial Church of Christ." She stopped in front of his car, digging the keys out of his pocket before tossing them in a tight arc up to him. "You can drive."

He didn't really know what to say, still a little too taken aback by the whole thing, but he unlocked the car doors anyway, opening hers for her so she could climb into the passenger seat, and before he could really wrap his head around the idea, she was directing him around Lima Height Adjacent and past the official city limits. He still wasn't sure he was going to go through with this, glancing over periodically at her, hoping to see the same doubt or second-guessing he felt in her face. But she sat there, looking nothing but apathetic as she filed her nails with an emery board she found in his glove compartment.

"Can I ask," he said as she pointed to a parking spot around the back of the hotel she'd picked out for them, fishing the key out of her gym bag, "why?"

"I told you, I'm horny," she said in exasperation, jumping out of the car, her ponytail bouncing as she hit the ground and shut the door on him. He scrambled out after her, barely remembering to grab his satchel and lock the car as he followed her path to a door in desperate need of a paint job.

"I meant, why me?" he clarified, turning the key in the rusty lock when she seemed to start having trouble with it, opening the door to a small, surprisingly clean and kept room.

"Because Jake's too busy trying to be in love with Marley and you're the only one cute enough and smart enough to know that I'm not expecting a relationship out of this," Kitty explained, crossing her legs as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. "This is purely physical and I don't even care if you're thinking about bears or twinks or whatever the secret code names are while you're with me, as long as I get off. I don't think you can deny that this is a perfectly agreeable arrangement."

He nodded once, more to himself and sat down on the bed a few feet away from her, his palms flat against the tops of his thighs. The implications of this settled in his chest, stirring up phantom pains of guilt for having cheated on Kurt, doubts that made him question the things he vaguely remembered saying to Tina about women, and a thousand other things he couldn't quite put his finger on except to say the last time he'd even come close to feeling this way was after he'd drunkenly made out with Rachel. Except he wasn't drunk this time, he was sober, and he was single and free to do what he wanted.

He just... wasn't sure if that was Kitty.

His lips fell open to say something to her, anything, but were met instead with her own pressed against his, her hand anchoring him to her as she kissed him. Sweet vanilla coated the inside of his cheek as her mouth pillowed between his lips, and it was instinct more than anything else to kiss back, to let his eyes flutter shut and try to lose himself in the feeling of it all. And she was a good kisser, teasing and taunting while giving just enough that it didn't feel like her intent was to be as mean as possible. She bit into his bottom lip a bit too hard, but the sting was instantly soothed away with a gentle tongue and a quiet apology.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said in a hushed voice, and he opened his eyes to see hers staring back at him, a vulnerability showing for the first time; he recognized it all too well, that fear of being rejected, being told you weren't good enough or right enough. "Just tell me if we're going to do this or not."

As strange as it was - and it was strange, being there with a girl he barely knew without any kind of false pretense as to what could possibly happen - something inside him resolved that he couldn't turn her away. He could see something of himself in her, that part of him that ached for company, someone to spend time with without being judged, or told what to do or what to want. And it was easier, he supposed, this way. He wasn't in love with her, she wasn't in love with him, and as she crawled into his lap, lean legs straddling his hips, he couldn't think of a good enough reason to stop her.

He responded by kissing her back, letting his hands fall to her waist and she took the lead from him, pushing him back on the bed and sliding her fingers under his shirt. Then he did the same to her, and she pulled hers off, then took care of his and it went on like that until they were a mass of tangled limbs and naked skin, the purple lace of her bra scratching against his knee as she tugged his pants past his ankles. One hand dipped inside his boxers and he groaned against her shoulder while she guided his fingers up her slim legs, showing him where his hands should be on her.

It wasn't perfect, with a lot of fumbling around and awkward mistakes; she would giggle and he would laugh, and it took some time getting used to the different angles she presented, but they kissed, they touched, and the longer it took, the better it felt. Her mouth was wet and slick as she swallowed him down her throat, and she was as tight as anyone he'd ever been with when she flipped them over and slid herself down on him, rocking into him. Panting, nails digging into his bones, his hips snapping up to meet hers on their own accord. And when she turned over onto her stomach, raised up on her knees and elbows, his hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her back around him.

They lay together side by side afterwards, legs tangled together under the sheets, her head resting on his bicep, trying to catch their breaths while staring at the ceiling. "That actually wasn't so bad," he mused out loud when his voice came back to him.

"Thanks," she muttered with a slight hint of disdain.

"No, I didn't mean- you were great, I just-"

She rolled over onto her side, kissing the corner of his mouth, effectively silencing his frenzied apologies. "It's fine, I know what you meant." she admitted, crooking her arm to rest her chin on it as she stared at him thoughtfully. "You were actually pretty good too."

He flushed red at that, hiding his face in a pillow for a moment before settling on his side to face her. "Kitty, are you okay?" he asked, ignoring the glare she directed at him through narrow eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate just wanting to fool around, but you just seem... before you looked kind of sad."

"I'm not sad," she said instantly, which only made him feel like his instincts were correct. He nudged her arm laying next to him; he wasn't the type to make anyone talk about things they didn't want to - that had actually kind of been his downfall with Kurt - but he could tell her defenses were down enough that she might break.

"I thought it might make me feel less... lonely," she finally said after several long minutes of staring defiantly back at him while he did his best to remain passive. "I don't really have friends, or a boyfriend, and the Cheerios are too busy trying to destroy my inevitable reign over them to care about me."

"You have us in glee," he suggested with a smile, which only caused her to frown at him even more, sheets rustling as she sat up, her knees to her chest while her back remained bare.

"Everyone in glee hates me for what I did to Marley," she sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair, catching on a particularly nasty knot. He sat up next to her, picking her fingers out of the mess and slowly worked his own through the silken strands. "And even if they didn't, they're too busy being in a relationship or stupid diva competitions to worry about me."

"You know what I've figured out about glee?" he asked, ignoring her scoffing at him as he finished untangling her hair for her. "You're not alone in there, even if you want to be. The people in there care about you, if you let them."

"I didn't tell you that so you could give me a pep talk I could find in a stale fortune cookie," she said in a clipped voice, but it didn't hold the venom she was usually able to muster up and he could see a small smile forming in the corner of her lips.

"If you want a friend," he continued, sweeping all her blonde hair over one shoulder and crooking his fingers under her chin so she would look at him, "you can start with me. If you want."

"Maybe," she smirked, knocking her shoulder against his, then giggling as she pushed him back down on the bed, her legs falling between his as she rested against his chest. "But first, I need you to do that thing with your tongue again."