I'm filling up prompts from you guys for the next few days, so here we begin- a prequel to #134 'Hangover', Puck's party. :)
I swore to myself that I won't title this 'Party in the U.S.A'. Here's a title from Teenage Dream instead.
Dance Until We Die
Blaine laughed throatily, even though he hadn't heard Mike's joke, and took another swig from the bottle he was holding. Everything was fuzzy and warm, and his face was blushed hot. There were pretty lights on the ceiling- he looked at them for a while, smiling to himself.
"Dude," he heard a distant voice, and turned to look at Finn, whose face was scrunched up with worry. "Dude. You okay?"
Blaine nodded, but somehow that made the walls spin around him. "Whoops," he giggled, tumbling and almost falling off his own feet. A strong hand steadied him, but it was much smaller than he had anticipated.
"Blaine Devon Anderson," a familiar voice said.
"Uh-oh."
"Uh-oh is right. You are drunk, Blaine," another hand took the bottle away from his limp hand, "and you're going home." A clink of glass hitting glass- was Kurt smashing the bottle of the table or just putting it down? It was hard to tell the difference- and he flinched. He thought he heard a scolding, "You know he's a lightweight, guys." And then he was pulled away from the lights, almost floating through air with only Kurt's hand to lead him. He could barely see now- everything was as dizzy and blurry as if he was trying to look through mud.
"Oh, Blaine," sighed Kurt when they were finally seated in his car. He put Blaine's seatbelt on for him, and Blaine marveled at the beauty of how the light hit his pale hands.
"You're pretty," he hiccupped.
"So I've been told," murmured Kurt with a kiss to Blaine's cheek. Blaine grinned and leaned into Kurt's warm lips, humming. "Alright. Let's go home and hope dad will let you crush there."
Ugh, awful writer's block. Thank god for prompts and tumblr. Hot showers, too.