NEW POV! I wonder whose it is ;)

"What the hell..."

I rolled over slowly, careful of my head. It was throbbing heavily as though someone had used it as a basketball last night. I wanted nothing more than to pull the sheets over my head and just go back to a semi-peaceful sleep. But upon thinking thus, I rubbed the sheets between my fingers. They weren't white cotton. They were satin, soft and crimson. Over the sheet was a comforter with a plaid black and red wine design.

This wasn't my bed. It took a moment to think of why this was so, and I could only come to one conclusion: I'd gotten smashed and fucked some guy. Or maybe even a girl. The possibility made me shiver.

From somewhere above me, I heard gentle trickling, footsteps. Was it him/her? What would they say after this (maybe) one-night stand? Was he/she a psycho? Did they want to fuck again? Thinking about such things made my mind swim. I simply wanted to take a piss, get some sunglasses, and leave.

I swung my jean-clad legs over the side of the large bed, tried to stand up, and after three more tries, was able to keep balanced. One hand went to my stomach as it churned viciously. Something hot and bubbly burned my insides. Before I could think, I pulled the first thing I could - thankfully, an empty Kaleidoscope Kow ice cream tub - and vomited. The taste was bitter and - on second thought, you probably don't want to know what my puke tastes like.

Walking was a challenge, but I managed it with the help of my surroundings. I knocked over several Liza Minnelli CD's and pulled down an entire drapey orange curtain, but no one above seemed to notice or care. This was a blessing.

As I went up the stairs, small things hit my mind. Like a sudden image of a wedding dress I had seen in one of my mom's bridal magazines. And an off-purple bowtie with a tuxedo. I licked my lips gently and tasted French vanilla icing flavored lip balm. Not mine.

The kitchen was vaguely familiar, but nothing I could place in my hungover state. Coffee wafted through the air. I had the urge to salivate and find the sustenance that was practically calling my name.

On a blue granite counter was an old-fashioned coffee machine, making strange chortling noises as it produced more of the delicious liquid. I quickly grabbed an empty mug sitting next to the sink, put in cream and sugar first - I like it that way, don't judge me - and then added the actual coffee. After one gulp, the damned fuzzy vision unfogged a bit.

"Good morning, Blaine."

I nearly jumped out of my skin when he heard words coming from someone else, and turned to the dining room to find Kurt Hummel sitting at the table, flicking through a magazine. He looked casual enough, but we were good friends. I could tell something was up. If only I could remember...

And then it all hit me. Well, most of it. The stronger stuff, such as my stripping and attempting to get down the staircase. Kurt had been by my side the entire time. Man, did I owe him.

I slowly went towards the aformentioned boy and took the seat at the end, next to him. He didn't look up from his magazine. If someone else were to see him, they would've thought he was just engrossed in the article about how egg whites were exceptionally good for your hair. But I knew him. He wasn't really reading.

"Thank you," I murmured, and took his hand. He didn't move it, but did tense a bit, and I pulled back to give him space. He looked up now and a slightly sad smile came across his face.

"Do you remember last night at all?" he asked quietly. I shrugged and took another long sip of coffee.

"Not entirely," I replied evenly. "Bits and pieces. Something about fingers and...and wedding dresses."

Kurt let out a laugh. "Yeah, you, um...you kind of proposed to me last night," he chuckled. I almost joined in, but didn't, because his eyes - his gorgeous brown eyes - were so sad. I leaned closer to him, but not so close that he'd freak out.

"Please tell me what I did," I mumbled. Kurt eyed me nervously, then let out a shaky breath and went into detail.

Holy fuck, was I bad when I got pissed like that.

Finn's height, yelling for more beer, stripping on a table - that explained why I was shirtless - Kurt's car, our staircase fiasco, saying we should get married, humping the banister, kissing Kurt.

I literally stopped breathing when I heard that last one. I had kissed him. Twice. Our first kisses had been thanks to my drunken mind. It wasn't true love like I'd always hoped. In my imaginary settings, we would be walking to his house and stop at the park, and in the streetlamp light, we would share a kiss so passionate yet so tender that we'd both know it was destiny. It wasn't supposed to be a goodnight kiss gone wrong.

"Shit," I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face. Kurt didn't move. His perfect face was expressionless. I wanted to say something to comfort him, tell him last night never happened. But it had. The damage was done.

"Anything else?" I inquired finally. Kurt started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly. I immediately knew I didn't want to hear whatever he would say. But I braved it out and listened to his words.

"You told me you loved me," he muttered quickly. My walls broke down. I dropped my hands from my head and grabbed Kurt's smaller limb. I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to tell him.

"Kurt, I wasn't lying," I began gently. He looked stunned. Like, literally. As though someone had shot him with a tranquilizer gun. "I love you. Jesus, I've loved you since the day I met you. The day I saw you supposedly spying on the Warblers...God, I'd never seen anyone so amazing. Then I met you and you were so beautiful inside and out. And, as I had said earlier in the night, your ass is perfect. And I'm afraid of losing you, having you hate me. So if you don't feel the same way, please just tell me and we can go back to nor-"

My rant was cut short by a pair of firm lips upon mine. I instinctively closed my eyes and let one hand tug slightly at his light brown hair. He replied eagerly by pulling me close. My tongue ran along his lips, begging for entrance. He gladly let me in. I'd never been so deep in something so wonderful. I urged myself not to take him right then and there when he pulled away to breathe.

Breathing seemd so mediocre.

"I love you, too, Blaine Anderson," he panted. I grinned wildly and resumed the position. And Kurt didn't object.

Yay! Happy ending! This is the final chapter, my loves :) I'm surprised this got so many reviews, but not complaining. I really like Blaine's little speech. He's such a perfect guy.

Or, as Kenzie would say, totally 'supermegafoxyawesomehot'. We are complete addicts to Darren Criss 3