A/N: Continued Valentine's Day!
Up next: ANGST.
"What exactly is the dress for this dance?" Kurt asked, looking through his wardrobe. They didn't have to wear uniforms for this, and he was absolutely thrilled.
"Casual," Blaine answered. "No tuxes or anything."
Kurt rubbed his hands together. "Excellent." He picked out a royal blue, long-sleeved shirt with a wide neck that exposed his long, pale neck. His jeans were light, and he arranged a black newsboy hat carefully on his head. Blaine turned around after putting on a light blue button-down shirt and darkwash jeans. He was rolling up his sleeves, exposing his tan forearms, when he and Kurt both noticed what they were wearing.
Holy shit, they both thought. He looks fucking amazing.
Neither knew how they were going to concentrate tonight.
The concert went well. They finished their songs and jumped off the stage into the crowd, joining the dancers as the hired band took the stage. It was loud and dark and crazy and then Blaine was grabbing Kurt's hand and dragging him through the crowd and they were in the middle and dancing and holy hell this was fun. Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and threw his other one into the air, jumping up and down and up and down and there was sweat and music and the bass pounded in Kurt's head and he was laughing and Blaine was yelling and everything was hot and close and loud.
Suddenly, everything slowed down. The music got softer and they heard the lead singer of the band call out cheesily,
"This is for all you lovers out there!"
Kurt and Blaine stopped moving. Their dance high went down as people either paired up or left the dance floor for a break during the slow dance. They stared at each other. Blaine's sweaty curls were plastered to his forehead and Kurt's chest heaved, panting. Blaine's eyes were dark and Kurt's were bright. Blaine had unbuttoned his shirt sometime during the dancing and Kurt's hat was slightly askew. Blaine looked straight at Kurt and with a surge of courage, he smiled in what he hoped was a gentlemanly way.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked formally. Kurt's heart jumped and he couldn't help a smile from blooming on his face. Kurt slid his hand into Blaine's and their hands were sweaty but it didn't matter because Kurt's skin was so soft and Blaine's was rough from playing guitar and it felt perfect. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and Kurt draped his around Blaine's shoulders and they swayed, just looking at each other. Kurt wanted to lean his head on Blaine's shoulder but he didn't want to look away either so he just danced and let Blaine hold him and god he smelled so good and he looked so hot and uhhhhhnnnnng.
The song ended and they detached and started jumping again like nothing had happened.
Nothing had happened.
Or had it?
The afterparty was, if Kurt was being honest, a bad idea. But nobody cared because it was Valentine's Day and fuck it, they were going to have a good time.
There was food and there were so many decorations. The common room was covered in hearts and pink and red and white. All the sappy love colors would've made Kurt a little sick had they not also put up white Christmas lights and turned the lights off. There was music here, too, and a big bowl of punch. It was more like a bucket, and Kurt was pretty sure he saw somebody pouring a bottle of something into it.
"Want me to get you some punch?" Blaine yelled. Kurt nodded and ran out to the floor to dance again. He had so much energy, for whatever reason. Once he'd started dancing, he didn't want to stop. Blaine found him and Kurt, parched, downed the cup. He drank it so fast he didn't really register how bad it had tasted until afterward.
"Ugh, what's in this?" Kurt asked. Blaine shrugged, sipping his.
"Somebody always spikes the punch."
Kurt looked at his empty cup in horror. "I just drank alcohol?"
Blaine finished his punch and grinned. "I told you the party was fun."
"I don't drink! I had a bad experience at a party once."
Blaine was already getting more punch. "Suit yourself!" he called.
Ten minutes later, Kurt was thirsty again. He'd drink water. He'd just do that.
On his way to the water fountain, he saw three couples making out and one guy running around entirely naked. He was almost to the water when he saw Blaine leaning against the wall talking to a guy. His name was Jason, Kurt thought. Jason was looking down at Blaine in a decidedly not-straight way and Blaine was looking up at him through his eyelashes flirtatiously. Ugh, Kurt thought, that should be him Blaine was looking at like that. Fuck, he hated Valentine's Day.
Well, one more cup wouldn't hurt.
Two more.
Three.
Okay, four.
Kurt was so drunk. He was so so so drunk.
"Blaine," Kurt said. "Blaine Blaine Blaine." He started laughing. He was upside-down on a couch, his head hanging off the seat. "Blaine, you're on the ceiling."
"Kurt? Kurt! How much punch did you drink?"
Kurt kept laughing. "I only had about two...ten...cups. Ten. Yummy, yummy, cherry cherry punch." He stuck out his tongue, which was bright red.
"Oh, shit," Blaine groaned. "I should've watched more carefully..."
"What? I can take care of...my...meself. Me. Icandoit," Kurt said indignantly. Blaine lifted Kurt up into a sitting position, turning him around so he was facing the right way.
"Kurt, you're drunk."
"No," Kurt giggled. "You're drunk. We're drunk buddies. Drunk drunk drunk. Drink. Drink? Blaine, can I have...more punch?" He held up his cup, which was empty.
"No," Blaine said. He wasn't drunk. Not that drunk. He'd only had three cups of punch and the boy held his liquor well. Kurt, however, did not.
"You need to go to bed," Blaine told him.
"No," Kurt said. "I wanna dance." He tried to stand up, but stumbled instantly. Blaine caught him and Kurt looked up at him, suddenly serious. "You...who was that guy?"
"What guy?" Blaine asked, confused.
"The guy," Kurt tried to explain, beginning to get frustrated. "You were talking and flirtinggggg and blinking those long long lashes of yours." Kurt's eyelids felt heavy and his tongue felt fuzzy. "He was looking at you like...you were a piece of...candy. Candy, candy." He ran a finger gently down Blaine's face and felt the stubble on his chin. "Yummy. Candy. You probably don't...taste like candy though. But you're still...yummy."
Blaine was rapidly turning a shade of dark red, still supporting Kurt's thin body in his arms. Kurt leaned down to nuzzle in Blaine's curly hair and Blaine could do nothing but stand there in shock. Holy hell, what was going on?
"Your hair is soft," Kurt whispered directly into Blaine's ear, his breath tickling. Blaine went rigid, a small gasp escaping him. "I always wondered..."
Okay. Okay. Uh. Blaine tried to get a hold on his thoughts. He carefully pushed Kurt away. Kurt pushed back, whining at the loss of contact.
"Heyyy."
"Kurt. No. I'm not sure...I...you...you need to go to bed," Blaine sputtered frantically. "You need to go to bed."
Kurt hung his head. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just wondered who the guyyy was and why you were making your pretty eyes at him."
"My pretty eyes?" Blaine asked, amused. Okay, so drunk Kurt was all kinds of weird. But also sort of hilarious.
"Yeahhh, when you look like this." Kurt tilted his head down and looked at Blaine through his eyelashes, his blue eyes positively smoldering and ohhhh holy fuck that was sexy.
"Oh," Blaine breathed. Kurt snapped out of it and grinned widely at him, breathing cherry punch breath in Blaine's face.
"Okay. Bed," Blaine ordered, looping an arm around Kurt's waist and trying to help him walk. Kurt tried to take a step, he really did, but his legs stopped moving and the room started spinning and oh dear. Blaine was on the ceiling again.
"Blaine, get off the ceiling," Kurt said, irritated. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms were lifting him and he was being carried. Oh, he wasn't on the ceiling anymore. He was floating. Could he fly now? No...he was being carried...by...a flying angel.
"You're an angel," Kurt said aloud. "A flying, flying angel. I'm flyyying," he sang. "Flyyyyyying. Like...Superman. If I could be Superman...I'd fly you to the stars..."
"And back again," Blaine finished softly.
"Blaine, are you taking me to the stars?"
"Unfortunately, no. Just our dorm room."
"We must be back already, then. I missed the stars," Kurt said sadly. Blaine smiled.
"It's okay. They weren't that great anyway."
They reached their room and Blaine gently laid him in his bed, taking his shoes off and sitting him up to lift his shirt off. Kurt let him do it, falling back onto his pillows when he was done. His arms flopped above his head and it was all Blaine could do not to stare at Kurt's perfectly smooth, sculpted chest and his long neck and his beautiful bright eyes fluttering shut as he started into the tired stage of being drunk.
"Blaine," Kurt said sleepily. "Thank you for flying me. You can be my Superman if you wanna."
Blaine grinned, stroking Kurt's hair back from his forehead. "I'd love to be your Superman."
"Really?"
"Yes." Blaine smile faltered a little when he realized just how true that was. He didn't care about being Superman. He cared about being KURT'S Superman. He'd be anything as long as he could be Kurt's. Anything.
Kurt's eyelids fluttered and he smiled at Blaine.
"I like you...as you are," he mumbled. Blaine's eyes lit up. He lifted his arm, reaching for Blaine, but he felt heavy. Heavy and drunk. His arm couldn't quite reach, so he beckoned Blaine closer. Blaine got down on his knees and rested his chin on the bed. Kurt reached over and stroked his face ever so softly. Then, he lifted his hand to his lips and pressed them to one finger. He reached that same finger over and pressed it to Blaine's soft lips. His perfect lips. Blaine's eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. Kurt's finger traced his lips and his entire body tingled.
Holy. Fuck.
He wanted to kiss Kurt. He wanted to kiss him all over and tell him he was perfect and fall asleep with him and wake up next to him.
But...not now. Not like this. Blaine closed his eyes, trying to get control of himself.
Not like this.
He slid his hand into Kurt's and squeezed. "Sleep well, Kurt." He started to walk away, but Kurt's voice pulled him back.
"Blaine...please don't go," Kurt whispered. "Please stay." Blaine smiled a little.
"Okay. I'll stay."
"Hold my hand."
"Okay."
Blaine did. Kurt was asleep within seconds, looking peaceful. Blaine stroked the hair away from Kurt's face again, watching his roommate sleep. He traced Kurt's elegant features, memorizing him. His best friend. Kurt squirmed a little in sleep, letting out the softest of mewling noises. Blaine's heart swelled with affection and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his roommate's forehead.
Late that night, Blaine changed into pajamas and climbed into his bed, facing Kurt. He wanted to climb into bed with him. He wanted to bury his nose in his neck and breathe him in. He just wanted to hold him. And never let go. He wanted to tell him he was beautiful and tell him he loved him.
He...loved him.
His heart jumped at this realization. He was in love with Kurt.
So in love. He had to tell him. He needed to tell him.
No. Kurt had to decide. It had to be Kurt's decision. The whole Karofsky thing...his stolen first kiss...his second kiss was going to be his choice. No one else's.
Not even Blaine's.
