Call Me Maybe
Kurt still wasn't sure how he had found himself at a karaoke bar with a group of boys.
If it was the Warblers, it might be feasible. This though – all the McKinley glee males – was absurd. Doubtless Finn was the one who insisted they kidnap him from Dalton. Artie most likely suggested going out and getting wasted. And the whole karaoke bit rang of Puck being a stereotyping jackass, who surely told the others that Kurt would be "comfortable" here, or some such drivel. Someone needed to sit that boy down and give him a long lecture about assumptions.
None of that mattered right now, though, because all the boys were focused on the girl currently belting (badly, he might add) into the microphone and winking over at their table.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt glanced around and was a little appalled to realize every single boy believed said female (And really, what was she wearing? It looked like something Strawberry Shortcake would wear during some kind of slut-phase. And, yes, those shredded tights literally had a line of the red fruit curling and spiraling around each leg. Givenchy save him from teen girls who tried to dress themselves.) was aiming the song at them.
It was made worse by the fact that his glass was once again empty. If they were going to force him to endure this, the boys should at least guarantee he was too smashed to remember it tomorrow, for Gaga's sake.
Then the girl switched to a new song, pulled the mic off the stand, and began prancing over towards their group. And Kurt abruptly figured out exactly who she was singing to.
"Oh Gaga, not again."
Puck shushed him, sending a welcoming leer towards the sashaying girl.
Mike and Sam caught on the quickest, with Artie close behind. Finn and Puck were oblivious, right up until the moment she stuck her face right in Kurt's, smiling in what was probably meant to be a seductive way, pupils blown, and reached out to run her finger down the gay boy's chest.
"Hey, I just met you. And this is crazy. But here's my number, so call me maybe! And all the other boys try to chase me. But here's my number, so call me maybe!"
"Ironic," Artie muttered to Sam, who raised a brow. The bespectacled boy quietly explained the twist ending of the song's music video, and Sam snorted a laugh.
When the girl finally went away, having attempted to stuff a paper with her phone number down Kurt's shirt (Which he had responded to by plucking it out of her hand, giving her a fake grin, and then passing the digits under the table right over to Puck.), he groaned and dropped his head on the table. "I do not give off a straight vibe, so why does this keep happening to me?"
Finn's expression suggested someone had lifted him off the ground, spun his world upside down, and then dropped him on his head. Puck just looked pissed. The other three boys shrugged and settled in to listen to some guy butcher yet another OneRepublic song.
"Whattya mean, it keeps happening?" demanded Puck, only slightly mollified from covertly receiving the girl's number.
"Exactly what I said," Kurt grumbled, still not lifting his head from the table. "Every time the girls drag me anywhere, I seem to collect more phone numbers than you have STDs."
"Hey, not cool, man," Finn admonished his step-brother.
Kurt just raised his head, and an incredulous eyebrow, before grabbing at his glass. "Please, someone get me a drink so I can wash away the memory of yet another female serenading me, when I can't even get a date with a boy."
"What about that Blaine kid?" Artie asked, waving at a passing waitress.
Shaking his head, Kurt sighed. "He must know I'm interested. After all, I fail miserably at keeping it a secret. And we hold hands and go out for coffee all the time. But he never makes a move."
"Then maybe you should," Sam suggested.
"I'm just – I'm terrified of asking him out, only to be told he's not interested in a relationship with me," Kurt admitted.
Throwing an arm around the thinner boy's shoulders, Puck mockingly assured him, "At least you know the girls'll come running if you decide to switch teams."
And Kurt's head was dropping back onto the tabletop, as he protested, "I am not nearly drunk enough for this."
That had the other five teens laughing, as they announced together, "We can fix that!"