A/N: Continuing on from where Sebastian left Kurt in his bedroom waiting for Blaine. This is a partial re-write of 'The First Time'. Warning for underage drinking, attempted sexual assault, physical violence, anxiety and mild PTSD. Also Klaine/Blaine.
When Blaine returned to Kurt's room, he found Kurt stunned, paralyzed, standing up against the wall, trembling from the top of his perfectly coiffed and newly highlighted hair down to his knees, which knocked together in his too-skinny-to-be-healthy dark wash jeans.
"Kurt?" Blaine crossed the room, looking all around in case he was missing something. "Kurt? Are you alright? You look like you've just seen a rat or something."
"No, not a rat," Kurt said, turning blown blue eyes to Blaine's concerned face. "I just…" Kurt shook his head, recovering slowly, forming some semblance of a smile on his unnaturally pale face. "Are we ready to go?"
"Yup," Blaine said, his expression quickly morphing from concern to excitement as he patted the jeans pocket that held his wallet and now two fake i.d.s. "Let's get going."
Kurt drove; he always drove. He input the address of the bar into Google maps on his phone and let Blaine fiddle with his iPod, picking out songs for a road trip playlist. He remembered the days when they first started dating and they would find any excuse to go for a drive - Friday night dinners with Kurt's family, McKinley High football games, Glee concerts, almost daily coffee at the Lima Bean because their nonfat mochas tasted better than the Starbucks in Westerville (regardless of the rumored mouse problem). He and Blaine would sing perfectly practiced flirty duets the whole ride, and it meant so much to Kurt that they could be so in sync. Now as Kurt's thoughts drifted to the conversation he had with Sebastian causing him to miss his entrance during a rousing rendition of Pink's Perfect, he realized that all he and Blaine did on these car rides was sing. They really never talked; not about the important things, at least, like goals, ambitions, or the future.
Kurt knew the basics. He knew Blaine's coffee order. He knew how Blaine felt about the Katy Perry vs. Lady Gaga debate. He knew that Blaine preferred bowties to neckties, and that his favorite brand of hair gel was Cover Boy (which was apparently extremely expensive). On some of the more important subjects, Kurt found he was actually rather clueless.
Kurt never made a secret of the fact that he wanted to go to school in New York, more than likely Julliard. Sebastian told Kurt that he planned to attend NYU. As far as Blaine went, Kurt didn't know what college he was considering.
Kurt always saw himself on Broadway. He was in love with the bright lights and the stage, the audience applause. Sebastian wanted to join his father's law firm. Blaine…Kurt assumed he would pursue music, but as a singer, songwriter, on Broadway, Kurt had no idea.
Kurt figured he would have children someday.
Sebastian did, too.
But Blaine…
"Kurt?" Blaine shook Kurt's knee gently. "Kurt? Where are you?"
"Uh, what do you mean?" Kurt asked, side-eying Blaine in the passenger seat.
"Well, you missed all your entrances in the last song, and you stopped singing altogether about two minutes ago."
"Oh," Kurt said, looking down at the map on his phone screen to see how far they still had to go.
Another forty-five minute drive.
Kurt stifled a groan.
"I guess I'm just a little bit nervous about going to a gay bar, that's all."
Blaine smiled, satisfied with Kurt's half-lie.
"Just relax, sweetie," Blaine reassured him. "It'll be fine. You'll enjoy yourself. You'll see."
Kurt let his eyes leave the road for a second to take in the image of Blaine reclining on the seat beside him, arms folded behind his head, staring at Kurt with a strangely devious expression.
Kurt shrugged, fully prepared to listen to Blaine count off all the reasons why Kurt shouldn't be nervous. After all, that seemed like the sort of thing boyfriends would talk about prior to going to a bar with illegally obtained documentation, but not too surprisingly, they didn't. The conversation died when Blaine said, "You'll see."
Blaine moved on with the playlist, launching into the first verse of Last Friday Night, seamlessly taking over both his and Kurt's parts since Kurt obviously didn't feel like contributing to the sing-a-long. Kurt continued the rest of the drive in silence.
He used that time to try and decide where he really saw himself after this night was over.
They pulled into the parking lot of Scandals just as Defying Gravity finished, a song Blaine had queued up in hopes of coaxing Kurt into participating, calling him a spoiled sport when, after the first refrain, Kurt still hadn't started singing.
"Come on, Kurt," Blaine whined, "that high F is just waiting for you."
"Sitting down and in these jeans?" Kurt scoffed. "I don't think so, Anderson."
Kurt turned into a parking spot and cut the engine. Blaine undid his seatbelt and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out Kurt's new i.d., handing it to him with a slight flourish. Kurt looked dumbfounded at the Hawaii issued driver's license. A picture of a middle-aged man stared back at him; a head of dark, curly hair almost covering his brown eyes, and a bushy moustache on his upper lip.
"Wha—this is absurd! This picture doesn't look anything like me!" Kurt protested while secretly doing his best to contain his glee. The picture on Blaine's license looked equally dissimilar to its supposed owner. Kurt mentally breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way they were getting into a bar with these horrible fakes. They'd have to leave and go back to Dalton with their tails tucked between their legs.
"They'll work," Blaine assured him, leaning over and kissing Kurt's cheek before opening his car door and hopping out of the vehicle. Kurt wasn't so sure. He was so confident they would be turned away that he nearly skipped behind Blaine all the way to the door. He handed his i.d. over to the bouncer, who immediately rolled his eyes with a 'you've got to be kidding me' expression. He shined the light of his flashlight down on the driver's license to get a better look and then shined it up into Kurt's face.
Kurt, counting the seconds until they were told to leave and don't come back for another few years, waved his hand with a bright smile on his face and said, "Aloha!"
The rotund man, slouched on his stool, looking defeated by life in general, shifted his gaze from Kurt to Blaine. His dull, green eyes dipped at the outer edges, his face betraying every expression on his exhausted face. From the way his eyes flicked from the i.d.s back to their faces, Kurt could tell he wasn't fooled one little bit, but he also looked less thrilled to be at Scandals than Kurt was. Whether out of boredom or complete and total apathy, he handed back their i.d.s and waved them on through.
A delighted Blaine shot through the door, dragging a mortified Kurt behind him.
"See, I told you not to worry," Blaine said.
"Yeah," Kurt grumbled under his breath. "Great."
Kurt had never been to a bar before, not to mention a gay specific bar, and as far as he knew, neither had Blaine, so Kurt was confused as to why Blaine seemed at ease there. He nodded at people and waved, winking at one drag queen dressed in a slinky, gold dress a la Ginger from Gilligan's Island who turned to him and blew him a kiss.
"Friend of yours?" Kurt asked sarcastically. Blaine led him straight for the bar.
"No," Blaine denied with a chuckle. "I'm just trying to be friendly. You know, work the room."
"Okay," Kurt mouthed. He sat himself on a bar stool that didn't look too grimy and watched Blaine in action.
"A beer for me, and a Long Island Iced Tea for my boyfriend," Blaine ordered, putting a crisp twenty dollar bill on the bar.
"Since when do you drink beer?" Kurt asked. "And I can't drink alcohol. I'm driving."
"Loosen up, Kurt," Blaine said, sliding the drink across the bar to Kurt when it arrived. "Let's be spontaneous and fun."
"I'm all for spontaneous and fun, but not so much for cleaning vomit out of the upholstery of my car."
Blaine smirked, clinking his beer bottle in cheers against Kurt's glass and then bringing the bottle to his lips.
Kurt shrugged. A sip couldn't hurt. It was surprisingly better than he thought it would be, sweet with the hint of a burn on the finish. Kurt sipped slowly to keep from having it hit him all at once.
Blaine pulled Kurt onto the dance floor, laughing and smiling, bouncing around like the goofball he was when he and Kurt first met. It made Kurt smile in spite of himself to watch him, but whether Blaine was acting this way because of the alcohol affecting him or if he enjoyed being out on a date with him, Kurt didn't know. Kurt still didn't understand Blaine's motives for taking him here of all places. It was dark and dingy, the music was too loud, and the whole place smelled like the boy's locker room at McKinley, eau de dirty sweat socks and the start of black mold. It was the epitome of everything they detested, basically the complete opposite of anywhere they actually enjoyed going.
Wasn't it?
As the night wore on, the dance floor got more and more crowded until there was barely any room to move without unintentionally rubbing up against someone else. Kurt couldn't help but think about the things he could be doing if he wasn't stuck here. He could be reading, or watching a movie, or playing cards…with Sebastian, drinking coffee in the senior commons…with Sebastian, slow dancing in his room…with Sebastian. Kurt sighed, thinking about swaying back and forth in Sebastian's arms. Nothing about being out on this date with Blaine made Kurt's decision making any easier. He prayed that some kind of epiphany hit him hard before Blaine went back to the bar for another beer. He was apparently a tremendous lightweight. He claimed to have had only one beer and yet he could barely stand on his feet. When Blaine tripped for the fifteenth time into the bosom of a drag queen named Pearl Bailey, Kurt decided to call it quits. He grabbed his boyfriend by the arm and pulled him to his feet.
"Come on, soldier," Kurt cooed in a flat, disinterested tone. "Let's get you home."
"B-but I don't want to go yet, Kurt." Blaine stumbled, falling against Kurt's shoulder, a goofy smile plastered to his face as he gazed into his boyfriend's stern eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes and looked away.
"Too bad," Kurt said, trying to support Blaine as best he could and walk at the same time. "I drove us here and I'm leaving."
Kurt managed to limp Blaine outside, hoping that the cool night air would help sober him up faster.
"This is the best night of my life," Blaine rambled.
"Okay," Kurt humored him, negotiating the curb and almost slipping on the slick asphalt.
"It's the best night of my life," Blaine repeated emphatically. "I want to live here. I want to live here, and I just want to make art, and help people."
Blaine turned toward Kurt as he said the word 'help', the elongated 'h' propelling a wicked smelling cloud of bad beer breath right under Kurt's nose.
"Woo-hoo," Kurt laughed, turning away for a breath of fresher air, "well, you can certainly help people make fires with your breath."
"Hey, come on," Blaine argued, "I only had one beer."
"Sure," Kurt muttered. Kurt led him straight to his Navigator, fumbling for the fob in his pocket as he propped Blaine's boneless body up against the car.
Blaine looked at Kurt, that devious expression for earlier in the evening returning to his eyes.
"Kiss me," Blaine insisted, leaning closer to Kurt, blocking his hand from the car door handle.
"No, no, no," Kurt laughed uneasily.
Blaine wouldn't take no for an answer, lips latching onto Kurt's neck, kissing a line up to his ear.
"Kiss me," he said again, his voice lowering, an attempt at seduction. Kurt swallowed hard at the thin layer of ice laced over those two simple words.
"No, no, no, no," Kurt chanted with a giggle, trying to push the frightened butterflies away. "Come on, you're riding in the back." Kurt reached the handle and yanked the door open, firmly pushing on Blaine's shoulder to get him inside.
"Alright, alright," Blaine relented, the goofy smile back, like the same old Blaine again. Kurt sighed in relief.
"Lay down," he commanded. "You're less likely to throw up that way."
"Alright," Blaine agreed, but he didn't lie down. He sat on the bench seat and caught the door before Kurt could close it. Kurt bent down to peer into the car, his eyes meeting Blaine's darkening stare.
"Would…would you sit next to me for a minute?" Blaine implored in a timid voice. "We haven't really had a moment alone together since we got here."
Kurt surveyed the empty parking lot around them. He was eager to end the night, to get in the car and drive the hell out of there. Something about Blaine in this place made Kurt wary, but he couldn't put a finger on exactly why. Blaine seemed different here. The atmosphere changed him. Or had Blaine changed, slowly, day by day, and Kurt hadn't noticed? Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He looked back down at Blaine, still gazing at him with those pleading, puppy dog eyes that could win anyone over, and he sighed.
"Alright," Kurt said, giving in and sliding onto the seat beside him, "but only for a minute. We still have a long drive back." Kurt closed the door behind him, and Blaine locked it with the button on his side. The clicking noise made Kurt jump. It seemed to hit him right at the base of the skull, and make all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Kurt stared at Blaine, eyebrows raised in expectation of the conversation he claimed he wanted to have. Blaine's eyes shifted left and right, a little uncomfortable with Kurt's hard stare.
"What?" Blaine said with a shrug.
"You said you wanted to talk," Kurt reminded him. "So I'm waiting for you to talk."
"Yeah, we could talk…" Blaine moved in closer, his eyes focusing on Kurt's lips for a second before returning to his eyes. "Or, we could make out." Blaine leaned into Kurt's neck, searching for that spot he knew made Kurt melt.
Kurt tensed at the first touch of Blaine's lips against his skin. He tried to relax, tried to enjoy himself, but it wasn't the same. This didn't feel right. It felt forced, too fast, and angry if that made any sense. Blaine's hands started to explore over his shoulders and down his arms, which used to send shivers all over Kurt's body. Now he didn't want it. He didn't know if he just didn't want it now or ever, but he didn't want it.
"Blaine…" Kurt tried to find space in the back seat of the Navigator to move away. "Blaine, I'm really tired…"
Kurt heard Blaine huff.
"Blaine, I'm not in the mood…"
Blaine retaliated to Kurt's objections by sucking hard on his neck. Kurt yelped, shoving Blaine away.
"Blaine!"
"Kurt," Blaine moaned, pulling Kurt back against him, moving his fingers to the buttons of his shirt. Warning bells went off in Kurt's head, ringing so loudly that they almost drowned out Blaine's muttering, his constant string of "I want this. I want you. Please, Kurt…"
Kurt had a hard time deciding whether or not he should be upset or scared. He was too confused, fuzzy even though the Long Island Iced Tea had more than burned off already. Wrapped in his boyfriend's arms he should feel safe and secure, but for some reason he felt far from that.
Was this what Sebastian had been trying to tell him? How did he know?
"Blaine, no," Kurt said, trying to squeeze out of Blaine's hands. "No, I don't want to do this."
"Kurt, look," Blaine said, gripping Kurt's shoulders, sounding irritated by Kurt's resistance, " I know you want to do it in a field of lilacs with Sting playing in the background, but this is about us." Blaine threw the words back at him from a previous conversation, and it made them sound dirty and condescending. Of course he wanted his first time to be special. It wasn't stupid or childish or unrealistic. How dare Blaine make it sound that way?
"Yeah, that's right," Kurt barked back, shoving Blaine again with all his might, hearing the telltale click of the door locks as his elbow hit the door. "It's about us. Not you drunk, attacking me in the back seat of a car." Kurt blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair while Blaine watched him, lust-blown eyes sparkling. In that moment, Kurt realized it wasn't actually about them at all. It was about Blaine - what Blaine wanted, what Blaine needed. Kurt still wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, but it wasn't necessarily the boy sitting beside him on the bench seat; not the way he was acting now, anyway.
"I should have listened," Kurt griped, straightening his shirt, redoing the buttons.
"Listened to whom?" Blaine growled. "To Sebastian? Is that who you should have listened to?"
Suddenly the air in the car changed, charged with Blaine's mounting anger as his patience began to wane. Blaine's eyes bored into him, and for the first time that Kurt could ever remember while being with Blaine, Kurt felt afraid.
"Why do you talk to him?" Blaine said, crawling back across to seat. "Why do you lead him on?"
"I'm not…I'm not leading him on," Kurt defended himself, reaching behind his back and feeling around for the door handle.
"Of course you are," Blaine said. He caught the movement of Kurt's hand behind his back, snatching his hand away from the door before he could open it. "You study together, you exchange cute little notes, and then there's that journal…" Blaine pulled Kurt beneath him while Kurt struggled "…that super, secret journal that the two of you get to share."
Kurt shoved at Blaine again, but this time Blaine was ready, locking both of Kurt's wrists in his hands and pinning them behind his back, pressing him into the car seat with his body.
"Blaine!" Kurt screeched, lurching up with his body with every ounce of strength he had in him. It seemed to work. Blaine backed off, moving from his body altogether, even leaving the car in his haste.
Kurt shot up in surprise when he heard another voice sneer, "Do you need to have your hearing checked, hobbit? Your man said no!"
Kurt leapt out of the Navigator at the sound of Sebastian's voice drowning out a string of curses as Blaine struggled to his feet from where he lay sprawled on the asphalt parking lot.
"I thought we talked about this, Smythe," Blaine barked, wobbling when he stood, wiping a thin stream of blood from a scratch on his cheek with the back of his hand. "Didn't I tell you to mind your own business?"
Blaine advanced on Sebastian, a left hook aimed deftly at the other boy's nose, missing by less than a hair when Sebastian jerked back at the last second.
"Yeah, well, I have a problem doing what I'm told." Sebastian dodged another fist to his face, but this time he swung back, hitting Blaine square on the jaw.
Kurt gasped.
"Stop!" he yelled, stepping forward with his hands raised. "Stop this!"
"No," Blaine said, shooting a glance Kurt's way. "No, If Sebastian wants to get his ass beat that badly then I'm more than happy to help him out."
Blaine came at Sebastian again, and this time his fist hit its mark – a right cross to the jaw, knocking Sebastian back a few steps. He skidded backward, his ankle hitting the curb and he stumbled, threatening to fall over. As soon as Sebastian got his balance, he rushed Blaine, grabbing him around the torso and trying to wrestle him to the ground.
There might have been something hot about two boys fighting over him if it didn't come with horrible flashbacks of Dave Karofsky hate kissing Kurt in the boys' locker room, or the fight that ensued after when Sam, Artie, and Mike confronted him and Sam ended up with a black eye. There were too many bad memories for Kurt to deal with, and even though he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't handle it.
Did it matter who won?
Was he automatically supposed to ride off into the sunset with the victor?
It seemed so barbaric. Kurt wasn't an object or a trophy. He was a person, and he wanted to be treated like one. Without looking back at the boys grappling on the ground, Kurt jumped into his Navigator, started the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot. Déjà vu struck as he heard his name called out to him in the distance, but he turned onto the road, merged into traffic, and kept on driving.
Kurt felt himself crumble but he couldn't afford to fall apart, especially not while he was driving, and he couldn't risk pulling over because he knew he would turn around and go back. He groped blindly for his phone, pulling up the first number in his contacts and hit dial.
He switched it to speakerphone and heard the sound of the phone ringing in the open air, breathing in deep to calm his frazzled nerves, waiting for the voice of the person he needed most.
"Kurt?"
"Dad?" Kurt choked at the sound of his father's voice.
"Kurt? Buddy?" his dad mumbled, sleep drunk and perplexed. "Is that you?"
"Dad?" Kurt rushed before tears could steal his voice completely. "I'm in Lima."
"What's wrong?" His dad sounded instantly awake. "Are you okay?"
Kurt shook his head.
"Dad," he said, turning onto the highway. "I don't want to go back to Dalton." Kurt heaved, swallowing a sob. "I want to come home."