Whoops! Forgot to post this last night. Enjoy!

"Um, Kurt?" Rachel's voice broke through the fog surrounding Kurt's brain and he groaned at the throbbing it induced. "Kurt?"

"What, Rachel?" Kurt smacked his lips a few times, hating the cottony feel of his tongue, but not having the energy to do anything about it.

"You passed out on the floor," she explained, toeing his shoulder a little with her kitten-print sock. His naked shoulder.

Sighing as he stopped himself from rolling over onto his back, Kurt replied, "Tell me I'm wearing pants. Please, I beg of you."

"You are wearing pants this time," she agreed, finally crouching down next to him. "I don't know why you let yourself be talked into these binge drinking sessions, Kurt. Do you know how much damage you're doing to your liver?"

"Yes, thank-" Kurt began, only to be cut off when Rachel continued.

"Not to mention your back!"

Now that she mentioned it, the skin across his lower back did feel odd. Sort of an aching, burning pain. He'd never felt anything like it. "What did I do to my back?" Kurt asked, hauling himself to a sitting position and trying to twist to see something. Only twisting made the pain so much sharper that he hissed. "What is it, Rache?"

"Um, well," Rachel hedged for a moment before he was able to catch her eyes. "You sort of have a dirty word tattooed there. Like, tramp stamp style. It's really quite awful. You know, I might know of a tincture you..."

Kurt tuned out the rest of whatever Rachel had to say as he wondered why the hell he would get such a tattoo. Rising to his feet carefully, since his equilibrium was still in freaking New Zealand for all the good it was doing him, Kurt palmed his way across the apartment to the bathroom, where he could hopefully see this travesty in the mirror.

And when he got there, he saw that he did indeed have a tattoo on his lower back. It read "Fuck" in giant, multi-colored letters across his skin. "What the...?"

Then his phone, which was thankfully still in his pocket, started vibrating. Still preoccupied by the freaking tattoo on his back, Kurt answered it without looking. "Hello?"

"Hummel, was it you I went out drinking with last night?"

"Maybe?" Kurt replied. "I don't exactly remember you being there, but to be fair, I don't remember much."

"So you wouldn't know why I've got 'Ken' tattooed on my left pec?"

"You've got one, too? I woke up with a freaking tramp stamp!"

Puck laughed, which Kurt thought was a little unfair, seeing as he also had a strange tattoo. "You gotta send me a picture!"

"No!" Kurt shrieked. "No one besides me, you, Rachel, and my dermatologist is ever going to know that I had an obscenity tattooed on my back."

"Ooh, which one?" Puck asked, chuckling over the sound of crinkling paper. "Hey, I found a receipt! There's a note at the bottom. 'I hope you and the missus like your matching tattoos. ' It's signed Trevor. I wonder who's the missus? Ken? He sounds like an uggo."

A sinking feeling settled in Kurt's stomach as he went back to the mirror and craned his neck around to get a better look at the tattoo. That wasn't an F, was it? It looked more like a P. "Noah," Kurt said carefully, swallowing the overabundance of spit that was suddenly in his mouth, "I think I might be Ken."

Please review! Also, don't forget to vote in the poll that's up on my profile page - help me decide what to write for the Puckurt big bang!