Blaine was funny when he got drunk. Besides becoming incredibly horny and ADHD, he often rambled on about current political issues in the voice of Tom Brokaw. Generally, his newscasts ended with something along the lines of "G-goodnight and good luck with your zipper. There's soap all over it,"
After the whole 'Rachel' incident blew over, and Kurt could trust his boyfriend to drink around females, Kurt was amused by drunken Blaine. Somehow, an inebriated yet charming and intelligent man made for good fun.
Until the night that a Beach Boys concert with Wes and David ended in hysteria.
The boys drove up to Toledo mostly on a whim. It was David's dream to see the Beach Boys before they all died off, and Blaine –in his true Pop-loving spirit- obliged.
Blaine had an Aunt who lived in Perrysburg, and Kurt's father was reasonable enough to see the wisdom in not allowing his son to drive home with three other teenage boys after midnight. Unknown to Mr. Hummel, Aunt Mathilde was away on business, and the boys got the three bedroom ranch to themselves.
Very quickly were the thermos' of wine coolers pulled from the back of Wes' Corolla. A Project Runway marathon was discovered, and the non-sobriety came soon after.
Tom Brokaw made his appearance within the hour.
But as soon as Kara Saun was beat out by Jay, Blaine lost it.
"That's jus not fair. S'not fair," Blaine moaned between sobs. Wes shared a look with Kurt, who sat his own plastic martini glass aside.
"Blaine, what in the hell…" Kurt managed as he pulled Blaine's face to his own.
"She… SHE HAS BETTER TASTE THAN THAT CLOWN!" He was yelling in a nearly unintelligible slur. David, nearly asleep, shot bolt upright. Blaine collapsed sideways and began weeping over an embroidered pillow.
"What the devil is wrong with him?" Wes was whispering, quickly snatching the thermos pinned between Blaine's thighs.
Kurt shook his head, attempting to comfort Blaine with long strokes of his hand. "He's never done this," he said, "He's always a happy drunk,"
"Let's take him to bed. Maybe he just needs to sleep,"
David, the burliest of the three coherent boys, heaved Blaine off the sofa and into his arms. Kurt followed numbly as his boyfriend began beating David's chest with the back of his hands. "Q-quilting will get you n-nowhere in the fashion industry. NO ONE WANTS YOUR CRAFT SHOW CRAP!"
"I wonder if someone's drugged him," David -ever the sarcastic one- said to Kurt from over his shoulder. For a moment, Kurt feared that that was true. But he shrugged the thought aside. They'd all been sharing from the same communal thermos', and they hadn't eaten anything at the concert.
When Blaine was deposited onto his designated twin bed, Kurt thanked David and knelt at Blaine's side. Blaine was crying in a fetal position, his back turned to his boyfriend.
"Blaine, talk to me. Why are you upset?"
Blaine shook his mop of dark hair. "I don'.. I don' wanna t-talk to you,"
Kurt bent over Blaine, pulling his hand from his face. "Please?" he whispered.
Blaine quieted his sobs after a moment, and with some coaxing from Kurt, he managed to turn around.
"My sister…," he started, but a fresh sob managed to spur a coughing fit.
Kurt sat Blaine up, finding that his boyfriend was strangely pliant. When Blaine managed to quiet down, he settled into Kurt's side. After a series of deep breaths, he took Kurt's hand.
"My sister s'leukemia,"
Kurt inhaled sharply, shocked. Somehow, seeing Blaine in a fit of grief inspired some courage within him.
"When did you find out?" he said evenly, squeezing Blaine's fingers as he brought them to his chest.
"Two days ago," Blaine whispered, turning his head into Kurt's neck.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry…,"
Blaine cried awhile longer before finally collapsing in exhaustion. Kurt managed to pull away Blaine's shirt and shoes before he finally fell asleep. Eyeing the empty space beside Blaine's bare chest, Kurt pulled a second pillow over onto the narrow bed. He managed his skin care routine in record time and pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants before curling up next to his boyfriend. A few minutes passed as he listened to Blaine's slow breathing. As he too began to drift off, despite his worry over Blaine's state of mind, he felt an arm curl over his waist.
Breathily and hesitantly, Blaine pressed a slow kiss to Kurt's ear and whispered "I love you,"
Kurt, awakened at once by the sensuality of the moment, turned over and took Blaine's unshaven face between his hands.
"Everything's going to be alright," he whispered, leaning in to press his lips to Blaine's eyelids. But deep inside, in the hollowed part of himself that ached with the loss of his mother, he knew that it was cruel to promise something as uncertain as life. Nevertheless, he kissed his boyfriend tenaciously, ignoring the stench of 'Coastal Citrus' on his Blaine's lips.
Blaine, revived at Kurt's touch, returned the favor with lengthy sigh. And Kurt, suddenly filled with a strange need to prove to Blaine just how alright everything would be, hitched a leg around Blaine and knelt over him. Something akin to anxiety appeared in Blaine's glassy eyes, but Kurt ignored it. Instead, he dipped to Blaine's collarbone and worked his way across flesh and muscle to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine latched his hands into Kurt's hair, leaning into the touch as best he could.
"Please, Kurt. Please,"
Kurt had never heard Blaine beg before, and he found it arousing like nothing before. But he was wise enough to deny temptation.
Kurt pulled away and ran his hand through a mane of shaggy curls. "No, baby. You should rest,"
Blaine frowned, but behind the glaze of inebriation came understanding. He nodded once and dropped his hands from Kurt's hair.
Kurt returned to Blaine's side and nestled into him, stroking the back of his boyfriend's neck. Blaine closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Kurt's.
"Everything'll never be okay," he whispered. "That's not how the world works,"
Kurt nodded once, pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek. "I know, sweetheart. I know,"
And with hands intertwined, they succumbed to sleep.