All finished! Thank you so much to everyone for sticking around! And to Kat, who is responsible for so much of this. I hope it was worth the wait?
: : : : :
Rule #15 : Thou shall not act accordingly during a fraternity formal. And remember that it’s just a temporary, week-long fling.
There’s a long weekend in early March right between the end of the first quarter and the beginning of the second when they have their yearly formal. And it’s epic.
Blaine tries to explain it to Kurt a few weeks beforehand because he doesn’t seem to fully grasp the importance of it. He leans across the cafeteria table, eyes wide and serious, before pushing Kurt’s tray away to make sure he’s got his undivided attention.
“It’s this huge party,” Blaine tells him. “There’s a bus that takes us up to the city where we rent out this huge banquet hall in a super fancy hotel. There’s a DJ and it’s catered and an open bar and — it’s a big deal.”
Kurt looks unimpressed. “You guys have a party almost every week, ones with free liquor and terrible R&B. This doesn’t sound much different.”
“But it is,” Blaine argues. “It’s a real open bar, not some watered down keg in our kitchen. And a real DJ, not Artie’s iPod hooked up to a speaker.”
Kurt still doesn’t seem to get it.
“And it’s a formal. Like, suits, ties, shiny dress shoes.”
Kurt’s attention is suddenly piqued. “Suits?”
Blaine grins. “Yes. It’s like prom but with an open bar and a whole table of cakes.”
Kurt cocks his head. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“And it’s a big deal to be invited, you know,” Blaine says, still smiling. “Girls spend all year angling for an invite.”
“Hm,” Kurt says. “So is this you asking me? Because I don’t believe I’ve received an official invitation yet.”
Blaine leans even closer and kicks up his grin. “Kurt Hummel, will you accompany me to my fraternity formal?”
Kurt returns the smile. “You had me at ‘shiny dress shoes’.”
: : :
“So it’s basically a week-long event,” Blaine tells him a few days later. “Mostly everyone skips class on Wednesday for a whole day of drinking and … well, you know, more drinking. There’s a few bars that kind of turn a blind eye to the underage thing.”
Kurt’s highlighting a few lines in his textbook but Blaine can tell he’s listening. They’re sitting at their usual table in the library, one in the back corner, far enough away from everyone else that they can have a quiet conversation without needing to actually whisper.
“The bus takes us up to New York on Thursday and we spend the next three days —”
“Drinking?” Kurt asks. “Just a wild guess.”
Blaine blinks. “—okay, yeah, there’s some drinking. But it’s not just drinking.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue.
“Anyways, then the formal is Sunday night. We stay up in the city on Monday so that no one’s stuck on a bus with a hangover then we head back on Tuesday for a full day of recovery.” He gives Kurt a big smile even though Kurt’s still focused on his work. “It’s seriously awesome. You’re totally going to love it.”
Kurt looks up and gives him a smile. “It sounds fun.”
“Fun,” Blaine scoffs. “It’s epic.”
Kurt shakes his head and goes back to his work. “Sure, that’s what I meant.”
Blaine’s quiet for a few minutes. “But just in the interest of full disclosure, you might feel .. a little out of place.”
Kurt’s head shoots back up. “Meaning I’ll be the only male date there?”
“What?” Blaine asks quizzically. “No. Meaning you’ll be the only boyfriend there. I’m bringing my boyfriend and a couple of other guys are probably bring their girlfriends, but everyone else is sort of … a random.”
Kurt eyes him suspiciously. “Meaning …”
“Meaning,” Blaine starts, choosing his words carefully. “Meaning that the formal is basically a drawn out one night stand. Guys usually invite a girl — or guy — that they plan on fooling around with for a week and then after that … well, there is no after that.”
“I see,” Kurt says, an unreadable expression on his face. “A spring fling.”
Blaine shrugs. “Yeah, sort of. It’s what everyone does so I just wanted to let you know that legit relationships, well, we’re sort of in the minority that week.”
“It’s what everyone does,” Kurt echoes, watching Blaine carefully.
“Yeah,” he answers, not really sure what to make of Kurt’s expression. “Unless you’re dating someone, obviously, but outside of that, yeah. It’s a fraternity formal tradition, really. A super intense short-lived relationship.”
Kurt hums but doesn’t say anything else. He focuses back on his textbook. “I should really start planning my wardrobe then.”
Blaine can’t keep the smile of off his face. “Definitely. I’m so glad you’re coming. This will be the best formal ever.”
: : :
When that Wednesday finally rolls around, Blaine goes to two of his morning classes then skips everything else. Most of the guys are already half-drunk when he gets back the house but Blaine paces himself so that he’s not fall-down drunk by the time Kurt meets up with them after his classes. Three beers and two shots later, sitting in the middle of the crowded pub a few blocks over, Kurt’s finally slipping into the chair next to him.
“You came,” Blaine says with a smile, leaning in to kiss his totally sober boyfriend. “You’re here.”
Kurt gives him an amused look. “And you’re drunk.”
Blaine shakes his head. “No, not yet.”
Kurt keeps smiling but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he glances around the pub and looks a little overwhelmed, probably because Blaine’s fraternity house has basically taken over the whole place. Between the brothers and their dates, they’ve filled up most of the tables and at least half of the bar.
“There are a lot of people here,” Kurt says finally.
“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “The entire fraternity and their plus ones.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow and gives Blaine a flirty smile. “Wait, two weeks ago you told me I was part of an elite group and now I’m just a ‘plus one’? Seems like quite the demotion.”
Blaine returns the teasing grin and leans close until he’s got his forehead resting against Kurt’s. “You’re my plus one. That’s still terribly elite.”
Kurt huffs out a laugh. “Is that so.”
And then they’re kissing but Blaine doesn’t even realize it until he gets pelted with a few french fries. When they break apart, half the table erupts into laughter.
Frat guys are dicks, basically.
Twenty minutes later, Blaine orders Kurt a strawberry daiquiri when he finds out that he doesn’t really have a favorite drink.
“We’ll find it,” Blaine says with a smile. “Over the course of this week, I’ll help you find your favorite drink.”
“There are a lot of people here,” Kurt says again, not really paying attention. “And they’re all drunk.”
“The girls have been pre-gaming it for awhile,” Blaine explains. “And it only gets worse as the week goes on. They end up in catfights or making out with each other or dancing half naked on a tabletop.”
“Classy,” Kurt says.
“And the guy dates are no better, by the way. At least half of them will end up making out with each other instead of the fraternity brother that actually invited him.”
Kurt wrinkles his nose in distaste.
“It’s a free trip to New York,” Blaine continues. “Most people here are looking for a week-long fling. I don’t think they even care who it’s with.”
“How tacky,” Kurt says, frowning. “Well, I, for one, actually do care who I end up making out with.”
They sort of try to lean in for a kiss again but more fries come flying their way followed by a piece of garlic bread.
Frat guys are dicks.
: : :
“Three things you need to know,” Blaine tells him a few hours later. He’s well on his way to drunk and Kurt’s definitely a little tipsy. “One: be wary of like, at least a quarter of these girls. They get super drunk and super clingy and then start drama if their date tries to spend some time with his friends.”
Kurt blinks. “Don’t be clingy,” he says. “Noted.”
“Two: there will be flirting. A lot of it. Coming from everyone. I’m learning to accept it so just — you know, run with it. Don’t freak out.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, a weird look on his face. “Right. Okay.”
“And three,” Blaine finishes, hesitating. “They divide the rooms by couples so we’ll be staying in the same room but I — there’s no expectations, okay? I don’t want it to look like I’m pressuring you or speeding things up or anything, I swear. Nothing has to happen. Nothing.”
Kurt’s still got that weird look. “Nothing’s happening, okay. Got it.”
Blaine gives him a warm smile. “This is going to be so much better than last year. I’m glad you’re here.”
Kurt watches him carefully for a few moments then returns the smile. “Me, too.”
: : :
“You’re right,” Kurt says, an hour before last call. “These are good. I like these.”
Blaine smiles at him as Kurt holds up his empty strawberry daiquiri. He’s definitely half-drunk and god it’s adorable.
“Are we leaving? Or can I order another one?”
“We’re not leaving,” Blaine says, still wearing his swoony smile. “Go for it.”
He heads up to the crowded bar so Blaine starts talking to the guy next to him, one of the really quiet freshmen. A good ten minutes go by before Blaine realizes that Kurt’s still not back. He looks over to the bar and spots Kurt immediately. And the guy next to him. Who is touching Kurt’s elbow and leaning in close.
Blaine stares at the two of them. It’s sort of weird.
Kurt turns then, though, and points to Blaine as he says something to the random bar guy. The guy nods and gives Kurt a bright smile then goes back to his drink. A few moments later, Kurt’s sliding back into his chair next to Blaine.
He gives Kurt a forced smile and tries to sound casual. “Someone you know?”
“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head. He doesn’t say anything else and it’s just … it’s still sort of weird.
Suddenly, Blaine’s grabbing Kurt’s face with both hands and almost crawling into his lap, not even caring how many of his fraternity brothers are watching. It’s not a gentle kiss or a sweet tender moment, not even a little. No, Blaine’s kissing him fiercely, roughly. There’s clacking teeth and it’s messy and forceful and when he finally pulls back, Kurt’s breathing has turned shallow and he’s staring at Blaine with wide eyes.
Blaine stares back, not really sure what to say.
Kurt briefly glances over his shoulder to the bar then turns back to face Blaine. He’s smiling.
Neither of them say anything but Blaine subtly shifts until they’re sitting even closer, until he practically is sitting in Kurt’s lap. Kurt’s quiet, an amused smile still on his face.
It sets the tone for the week. It all sort of goes downhill from there.
: : :
On Thursday, the bus picks them up in the afternoon and Kurt spends the entire ride sleeping, head on Blaine’s shoulder. He wakes up twenty minutes before they get to the hotel and looks at Blaine with wide, apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep on you the whole time.”
“It’s fine,” Blaine says, shrugging. It was more than fine, really, because it was comfortable and sort of relaxing and it gave Blaine a chance to peacefully stare out the window instead of listening to his friends argue for like the millionth time about which Charlie’s Angel was the hottest.
“But — I didn’t mean to keep you stuck up here instead of back there with your friends.”
“It’s really okay,” Blaine says, a quizzical look on his face. “Seriously, it’s fine.”
Kurt doesn’t look entirely convinced but he lets it go.
: : :
They hang out for a bit at the hotel then they all walk around the city for awhile until they end up at some hole-in-the-wall Italian bar.
“Italian,” Blaine says to Kurt with a wide grin. “I’m ordering you a Bellini.”
The drink ends up being a success and a couple of hours later, Kurt’s up at the bar to order his third drink and another beer for Blaine. Blaine’s in mid-conversation with Artie when he glances over to see Kurt talking to another bar random. The guy is leaning way into Kurt’s personal space and they’re both laughing, standing incredibly close to each other. Kurt’s holding his boyfriend’s beer while blatantly flirting with another guy. Blaine’s stomach sort of clenches up.
It’s not a good feeling.
It’s almost like he knows he’s being watched, though, because he looks up and meets Blaine’s eyes right then, a small unreadable smile playing on his lips, and Blaine can’t figure out what it’s supposed to mean. Kurt suddenly leaves the bar random and heads back to Blaine, handing over the drinks and saying, “Here’s your beer. Will you hold mine? I need to use the men’s room.”
Blaine nods, quiet, and watches Kurt head towards the back.
Ten seconds later, he’s shoving both drinks into Artie’s hands. He quickly follows Kurt and manages to catch up to him as he’s rounding the hallway, right before he makes it to the restrooms.
Kurt only looks partly surprised when Blaine grabs his elbow, turns him around, and pushes him up against the wall. He leans in and presses his entire body up against Kurt’s then kisses him so hard that he’s almost dizzy with it. Kurt’s basically pinned, not able to go anywhere even if he wanted to — but judging by how tightly he’s gripping Blaine’s waist, how forcefully he’s tugging Blaine even closer, it doesn’t seem like he wants to.
Blaine’s vaguely aware that anybody could walk down the darkened hallway to see them two steps away from dry humping each other against a wall but he doesn’t give a shit, not even for a second.
They break apart, breathless, and stare at each other.
“Hi,” Kurt says with a small smile.
Blaine swallows thickly, feeling like some weird territorial asshole, and tries to return the smile. “Hi,” he says back.
He doesn’t really leave Kurt’s side for the rest of the night. Kurt doesn’t seem to mind.
Nothing changes when they get back to the hotel room. They don’t fool around because god, Blaine’s not going to push Kurt into anything while they’re both half-drunk. But he pulls Kurt in close and doesn’t let go.
: : :
Friday is more of the same, really.
They spend the morning wandering around the city with most of Blaine’s friends and their dates. Which, oddly, includes Blaine’s Bio lab partner, Santana, and the blonde cheerleader she was eying in the beginning of the year. Blaine doesn’t have the heart to tell Puck or Finn that their dates probably aren’t putting out this weekend. Not with them, at least.
It’s a pretty good morning. Even though Blaine’s fraternity brothers aren’t really the kind of guys Kurt would hang out with normally, they all seem to get along and he genuinely looks like he’s having a good time.
Their server sort of hits on Kurt when they go out to lunch, which is pretty unsurprising, but Kurt almost encourages him, which is surprising.Blaine meant what he said a few days ago: he’s accepted the fact that people will be flirting with Kurt like, constantly. Blaine knew it was coming and he really wasn’t worried. Kurt letting them flirt, though? That part he didn’t see coming.
It’s not a good feeling.
They see a show in the afternoon, just the two of them, so that they can spend a few hours together. It sort of makes things worse, though, because he ends up having to watch both the guy behind the concession stand and a guy waiting outside the restroom hit on his boyfriend.
Needless to say, Blaine’s already on edge by the time they get to the Irish pub that night. They’re all crowded into a small booth in a corner and even though he and Kurt are pressed close from shoulder to thigh, he still feels a little uneasy.
“Golden Green Apple,” Blaine suggests. “Irish whiskey but still kind of fruity. I think you’ll like it.”
Kurt cocks his head and smiles and for a minute, Blaine thinks that maybe they’re the only two people in the whole world. He feels like a tool because Kurt’s looking at him like he’s the only person in the entire room and suddenly Blaine can’t remember why he’s felt the need to be some territorial d-bag these past few days.
…And then twenty minutes later, some blond guy at the bar has his hand on Kurt’s bicep as Kurt’s waits for his drink and Blaine’s beer.
Blaine forces his way out of the booth, pushing Mike and Finn out of the way, then walks up to the bar. He doesn’t wait for their drinks or make polite eye contact with the guy still standing way too close to his boyfriend. No, instead he grabs Kurt’s hand and tugs him away from the bar, away from the blond random, away from everyone in his fraternity, away from any prying eyes. He pulls Kurt until they’re outside, until they round the corner of the building, then pushes him roughly against the brick wall and forces himself into Kurt’s personal space.
“God, Kurt,” he says.
Kurt doesn’t ask him what that’s supposed to mean and Blaine doesn’t elaborate.
Kurt tugs his wrists free from where Blaine has them pushed against the well so that he can grab Blaine’s jaw and pull him closer. They kiss hard, somehow more frantic than the past few nights. He crowds even more into Kurt’s space but really, it’s not all that possible to get any closer than they already are. He reaches up and starts fumbling with the buttons on Kurt’s shirt — god why is he wearing clothes right now — and it’s not until he has two buttons already undone that he realizes that Jesus, he trying to undress his boyfriend in the middle of the street.
He swallows thickly and takes a step back. “I — God, I’m sorry.”
Kurt’s arms fall uselessly by side as Blaine steps away. “What? Why? No, it’s okay, Blaine —”
He shakes his head, barely able to make eye contact. He feels miserable and embarrassed and so pathetically possessive. “We should — let’s go back inside.”
Kurt’s quiet for few moments. “Okay,” he says finally, voice soft.
They get another drink when they re-join the rest of the guys inside and, just like the day before, Blaine spends the night by Kurt’s side, never able to convince himself to move away. He holds Kurt’s hand tightly in his own, too, never able to convince himself to let go.
Nothing really happens in the hotel room that night either. Kurt tangles his legs with Blaine’s and lies his head on his shoulder. He gently brushes his palm up Blaine’s chest and down to his stomach and back up again. His fingers catch more than once on the fabric of Blaine’s t-shirt but thankfully, he falls asleep before Blaine’s resolve totally disappears.
: : :
When they get to the German buffet/bar on Saturday night, Blaine’s a little more prepared. He has a game plan so he starts the night feeling calmer, relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt for a few days. He makes Kurt try all kinds of German food, dumping spoonfuls of everything imaginable on his plate as Kurt tries to halfheartedly protest.
“And a cherry daiquiri,” Blaine says, setting the glass in front of Kurt as he comes back from the bar with the cocktail and his German draft beer.
Kurt eyes it warily.
“German brandy but it’ll taste like cherries, I promise,” Blaine tells him.
And again, the drink is a success. A little later, when Kurt moves to go get them each another drink, Blaine pats his hand and says, “No, no, you stay here. I can get our drinks.” Because after three days, Blaine has learned from his mistakes. Kurt can’t flirt with random guys at the bar if he doesn’t like, go to the bar.
It’s his game plan and it seems good in theory until he glances over towards their table after waiting at the bar for a good ten minutes. Some guy from the table next to theirs — someone who’s like, twenty five and most definitely not in Blaine’s fraternity — is scooting his chair a little closer to Kurt’s and Blaine has to stand there and watch, thirty feet away and helpless.
Kurt glances up twice to make brief eye contact with Blaine and gives him a coy smile. Blaine can’t help but feel frustrated because it’s almost like Kurt’s being deliberately obtuse about the whole thing and it’s starting to drive him a little insane.
Which is why, thirty minutes and two beers later, Blaine finds himself not-so-gently shoving Kurt into an empty booth a few tables away from everyone else, pushing him up against the wall and crowding into his space. He starts tugging at Kurt’s tie but he can’t figure out if it’s because he wants to pull Kurt closer or if he’s just trying to make sure that Kurt can’t get can’t away. The embarrassment washes over him again at the idea of so publicly throwing himself at his boyfriend but this time, he can’t find the strength to pull away. His pants are uncomfortably tight, his friends are twenty feet away, and he’s only three steps from getting escorted off the premises for public indecency.
Kurt’s really not protesting. He’s doing his fair share of tugging, too, and he’s eventually got Blaine half straddling him. Blaine’s hands wander all over Kurt’s chest and his shoulders and his waist and his arms and like, anywhere else he could possibly touch. He’s biting at Kurt’s neck and god, he’s almost sitting on top of him so he can feel Kurt responding and shit, he’s making these little sighs that practically sound obscene and Blaine is about two minutes from losing his mind in the middle of a goddamn German bar.
There’s no way he’s going to have any kind of self-restraint so it’s sort of a relief when Puck flops down across from them. “Come on, you fuckers,” he says. “Get a room.”
Blaine sits back suddenly, eyes wide, and shifts so that he’s not borderline straddling his boyfriend anymore.
“He’s kidding,” Kurt whispers, watching Blaine carefully. “Don’t stop.”
Blaine’s mouth sort of falls open at the idea of Kurt actually encouraging this whole inappropriate dry-humping vibe because what the hell. Public sex isn’t really Kurt’s thing just like blatant displays of territorial aggression aren’t really Blaine’s. The world seems to be tilted on its axis, though, because Kurt’s practically pleading with Blaine to continue and Blaine’s forcibly holding himself back from like, marking Kurt’s skin just to let everyone know that Kurt is taken.
He can’t move away from Kurt fast enough because Jesus, he’s like one of those spider monkeys on the Discovery Channel, the ones that throw branches and their own feces to ward off other males.
Blaine takes a deep breath as he climbs out of the booth, away from Kurt, because holy shit, he just compared himself to a poop-flinging monkey and that’s definitely hitting an all-time low.
It’s not a good feeling.
He gets another drink then heads outside for a few minutes to get some air. When he clears his head and starts feeling like a normal human being again, he joins everyone else at the table. His friends are all totally loaded and thankfully, no one calls him out on the fact that he was practically having sex with Finn’s brother in a booth in the back of of German buffet bar.
Just like the past few nights, Blaine doesn’t leave Kurt’s side. And just like the night before, Blaine laces his fingers with Kurt’s and keeps it that way until they close the bar. But this time, he tugs Kurt down so that he’s sitting on Blaine’s lap. Kurt huffs out an embarrassed laugh at first but then relaxes into it. He looks a little amused and a lot surprised but he doesn’t look uncomfortable so Blaine tries not to stress about it. He’s definitely not the only fraternity brother with a date sitting his lap so he pretends that it’s totally normal and that’s it not about the fact that he’s half paranoid to let Kurt out of his sight.
Blaine reminds himself that tomorrow, there is no bar. They’re at a catered event in a hotel banquet hall and there is no bar. And because there is no bar, there is no way for bar randoms to flirt with his boyfriend. More importantly, because there is no bar, there is no way for his boyfriend to flirt with bar randoms.
He’s a lot more possessive that night back in their room and even though no one’s around to see, Blaine’s still pretty ashamed of himself. He envelops Kurt almost immediately and desperately tries to think of something — anything — other than the fact that Kurt’s right there, ready and willing. He reminds himself over and over again that Kurt’s ready and willing only because he’s drunk and not because he wants their first time to be in a strange hotel room, his boyfriend smelling like cheap German beer.
He sighs with relief as soon as Kurt falls asleep.
: : :
There are, however, cater waiters at the formal on Sunday. And it’s the same concept.
“You look fantastic, by the way,” Blaine says. He leans in close to Kurt as someone takes their dinner plates away and gives him a bright smile. “Like, really fantastic.”
Kurt preens. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Anderson. You clean up quite well.”
“Why, thank you, Kurt,” he says, still smiling.
The DJ starts playing The Electric Slide right then and Blaine leans in even closer. “Don’t forget to save a dance or two for me.”
Kurt watches him and quietly says, “You can have all of them.”
They spend most of the night, well, drinking, and for the most part, Kurt matches him glass for glass. Blaine makes him try a little of everything so by the time Kurt finishes his apple Sangria and declares it his favorite, they’re both already well past ‘buzzed’ and about to leave the ‘tipsy’ territory, too. Next stop, ‘pretty wasted’. Final destination: total inebriation.
By the time the DJ starts to play Sir Mix-a-Lot, there are already a handful of half-naked drunk girls trying to dance on a few of the tables but thankfully not the one he and Kurt happen to be sitting at.
Kurt watches them with an odd sense of curiosity.
“Here they go,” Blaine sighs. “I give it twenty minutes before someone starts a catfight. That usually follows.”
Kurt’s still watching them, though, not really paying attention to the conversation. His eyes are a little glassy and Blaine sort of freaks out for a second because please god no, do not let his boyfriend join the half-naked table dancers.
“No,” Blaine pleads. “Please no table dancing.”
Kurt blanches and laughs. “What?”
“You just — you look like you want to table dance and I — I can’t, Kurt. I can’t watch you half-naked, dancing, doing some kind of strip tease—”
Kurt’s laughing again. “What are you talking about?”
“— I just can’t, Kurt. I only have so much self-restraint. And that — that would be the end of it.”
Kurt stops laughing and gives him a serious look. “Why are you still restraining, Blaine?” he asks quietly.
Blaine blinks. Because I’m not a goddamn spider monkey, he thinks of saying. I can’t shove you up against a wall and then have crazy drunken sex with you and still be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow morning.
“I’ll get us another drink,” he says instead. “Apple Sangria?”
Kurt sighs sadly and nods. “Thank you.”
When Blaine comes back with their drinks, Kurt’s not at their table anymore. It only takes him a few moments to scan the crowd and find him leaning against a wall, mid-discussion with one of the cater waiters. Blaine lets out a defeated sigh. He feels defeated.
He heads over to them, though, and gives them both a weak smile as he passes Kurt’s drink to him.
Kurt smiles back at him, staring at Blaine expectantly.
Blaine just stands there.
Kurt waits for a few more minutes and when nothing happens, he leads them back towards their table.
Neither of them say anything for awhile.
The DJ starts playing some country song and Kurt clears his throat. “So — is he here? I told myself I wouldn’t ask but I can’t help but wonder.”
Blaine turns to face him. “Is who here?”
Kurt shrugs, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “Your — your fling. Last year’s formal fling. Do you still see him around?”
Blaine huffs out a laugh. “My what?”
“Your fling,” he repeats, sounding annoyed that Blaine’s actually laughing at him. “You said everyone does it.”
Blaine gives him a confused look. “Okay, I didn’t mean literally. I — you know me, Kurt. Do I really seem like the kind of guy that gets super loaded and has a one-night stand?”
“No,” Kurt says quietly.
“But I did get super loaded,” Blaine admits. “There was table dancing. And I lost a shoe.”
Kurt gives him a tiny smile. “Sounds like quite a story. I’m intrigued.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to get someone else to re-cap it. I was drunk enough to lose a shoe so I definitely can’t remember how I lost it. Ask one of the guys when we get back.”
Kurt freezes. “Right. You can — you can go hang out with them, you know.”
Blaine cocks his head, confused. “What?”
“I just mean that you don’t have to spend the whole night sitting next to me and getting me drinks. You can spend time with them.”
Blaine stills. “Why, so you can go hit on the cater waiters?” he asks, keeping his voice even.
“What?” Kurt asks, blinking. “No, so that you don’t think — I don’t want to be clingy, that’s all.”
He resists pointing out that he’s spent half this trip flirting with other guys and it’s sort of the polar opposite of being clingy. “Let’s go,” he says, standing up and offering Kurt his arm. “You said you’d save me a dance, remember?”
So they dance along to a few of the sentimental love ballads the DJ plays. Their coordination isn’t all that stellar, not after the amount of drinks they’ve had, but thankfully all they have to do is just stand there and hold onto each other. They break apart when Vanilla Ice starts to play and Blaine rests their foreheads together. “You really do look amazing,” he whispers.
Before Kurt can respond, Blaine’s being tugged away by Sam and ushered over to a corner of the dance floor for a bunch of pictures. Most of his friends are even drunker than he is and no one can really operate a camera so he’s assuming most of them will end up being pictures of the ceiling or someone’s shoe. After ten minutes or so, he untangles himself from everyone to make his way back to Kurt —
—who’s standing by that same goddamn wall talking to that same goddamn waiter. And seriously, Blaine is so over this shit.
He books it over to Kurt and grabs his wrist then yanks him out of the room until they’re in the middle of the hotel lobby. He keeps yanking until they’re in front of the elevators —
“Blaine,” Kurt says on an exhale. “What—?”
—and then Blaine just keeps on yanking at him until they’re inside the elevator and the door slides shut behind them.
He hits the button to their floor then shoves Kurt up against the wall, curling his hands around Kurt’s hips to keep him firmly in place. He presses up against him and holy shit, Kurt’s hard, god they both are, and there are warning bells going off in his head that he shouldn’t be doing this, that Kurt will wake up in the morning full of regret when he realizes he got loaded and slept with his boyfriend for the first time while they were both plastered. He won’t be able to remember the details and Blaine will probably hate himself for being the possessive asshole that couldn’t keep it in his pants.
But he doesn’t give a shit about the warning bells, not right now.
They’re still kissing and Blaine’s squeezing Kurt’s hips so hard that he assumes Kurt will wake up with bruises. His mouth latches on to Kurt’s neck and and he sucks and bites and god, there’s going to be such a hickey in the morning and Kurt will probably be pissed.
Kurt’s fumbling with Blaine’s belt — and oh my god, this is actually happening — when the elevator stops and the door slides open. Apparently, it’s not enough to deter Kurt because he’s still clawing at Blaine’s belt and trying to push his hands under Blaine’s jacket. When they get to their room, Kurt nearly drops the room card three times as he tries to open the door one-handed, Blaine’s mouth still on his and Blaine’s hands desperately trying to remove Kurt’s tie.
(((Rule #22 : Every bro should be thankful for the invention of suits.
“God, Kurt,” he says, frantically trying to unbutton Kurt’s jacket. “How are — is this glued shut? Where are the damn buttons?”
Kurt huffs out a laugh and bats Blaine’s hands away, trying to help.
It’s taking too long, though, and Blaine has seriously lost all patience. He starts pulling at the sleeves, ready to just rip the whole thing off because fuck it, he’ll just buy Kurt a new one.
“The suit,” Blaine says, still breathing heavy. “I hate this suit. Get it off, Jesus Christ already.”
He pushes Kurt down on the bed, which is just counterproductive to the whole concept of undressing because getting Kurt out of his suit is even harder to do when he’s lying right on top of him. Blaine sits up until he’s totally straddling his boyfriend, and Kurt looks at him with wide eyes. Blaine reaches his breaking point and just tugs at the jacket hard enough until a few of the buttons come flying off. One comes right at him and hits him in the cheek.
Kurt lets out a soft laugh but Blaine freezes.
Five seconds later, he’s scrambling off Kurt and away from the bed. He scrubs a hand over his face, swallowing thickly.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks cautiously, propping himself up on his elbows.
Blaine wants to be sick. Kurt’s drunk and Blaine’s actually ripping off his clothes all because Kurt had a conversation with some other guy. What kind of boyfriend is he?
“I — I have to go,” Blaine whispers. “I’ll be back.”
Kurt stares at him. “Are you serious?”
“I just need a minute,” he explains.
“Wait, Blaine, don’t—”
He books it out of the room and sits outside the hotel for twenty minutes. The cold air hits him hard and he realizes just how drunk he is.
When he gets back to the room, Kurt’s already passed out.)))
On Monday morning, they don’t bring it up and Blaine wonders how much Kurt even remembers. It’s kind of a subdued day.
Later, they all head to a cheap Mexican bar for pitchers of strawberry margaritas and Corona. When it’s Blaine’s turn to buy, he waits patiently by the bar to order two more pitchers and watches Kurt with Santana’s blonde cheerleader. There’s a huge group of guys, clearly some kind of fraternity, that surround them and they’re all laughing and drinking and flirting and seriously, will this never end?
“She’s good,” Santana suddenly says from somewhere to his right. “And so is he.”
Blaine startles. “Uh. What?”
“Quinn’s been playing the hard-to-get game this whole week. She’s good at it. And so is your boy.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, blinking. “He’s not playing hard to get. He’s already been … gotten.”
She laughs. “He’s been playing you all week, Blaine, you seriously haven’t picked up on that?”
Blaine gives her an annoyed look. “He’s not playing me, Santana.”
She laughs again, not one of those happy laughs but one of those laughs that makes him feel like he’s the butt of some joke. “That’s sad,” she says. “That you can’t even see it.”
He bristles but doesn’t know how to respond.
She turns to face him, eyebrow raised. “You think it’s a coincidence that you’ve had him pressed up against every flat service since the bus dropped us off? Shit, I thoughtyou were smarter than that. Maybe I need a new fucking lab partner.”
Blaine’s only half listening to her. Two of the guys have kind of broken out of the circle and are now basically flanking Kurt.
She pauses, too, because most of the rest of them form an even tighter ring around Quinn.
Santana snorts. “This is such bullshit.”
Blaine glances over to his lab partner to see her narrowing her eyes at the the cheerleader and at the fraternity guys surrounding her as she grips her wine glass tightly.
“It’s a game,” Santana says. “A stupid fucking game. We get into one little fight about my, and I quote, ‘inability to commit’ and suddenly I’m following her across fucking state lines.”
Blaine watches her carefully. “Well then maybe you could … you know. Commit?” he suggests.
Santana turns to face him and she suddenly looks angry, like maybe she’s trying to overcompensate for the fact that ten seconds ago, she accidentally implied that she might actually care about someone. “Oh like I need your pity. My boyfriend’s not flirting with half of queer New York just to get a rise out of me.”
Blaine blinks and stares at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh. “It means that he’s screwing with you, Blaine. He spends five minutes flirting with some douchebag in a muscle shirt and then you wind up eye-fucking him for the rest of the night.”
Blaine turns to watch Kurt again. He briefly looks up to meet Blaine’s eyes and gives him a small smile before looking back to one of the douchebags in a muscle shirt next to him.
“Okay,” Blaine says quietly. “So what am I supposed to be doing? Not pinning him against a wall, I’m assuming?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters, frustrated. “Like I know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”
Blaine watches Quinn and Kurt, both of them just standing there while they get overtly hit on, Kurt shooting Blaine a look every few minutes and Quinn shooting Santana a look practically every ten seconds. “I don’t get it,” he says. “What’s the point to all of this?”
She shrugs, never taking her eyes off of Quinn. “Yours? He probably just wants you to throw him down on the nearest sanitized surface and have your dirty, filthy way with him.”
Blaine wrinkles his nose and doesn’t even want to try to figure out what her version of “dirty filthy way” means.
“They just want the power, Blaine. They don’t give a shit about those guys. They want us to want them, that’s all this is about.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, meeting Kurt’s eyes again from across the room.
“They’re stringing us along and the two of us are following right behind,” she says, irritated. “It’s pathetic.”
She turns on her heel to walk outside as Blaine continues to wait on his pitchers by the bar and watch Kurt. He keeps his eyes firmly trained on Blaine’s then slowly and deliberately takes off his cardigan. He’s still got like, three other layers on but suddenly his neck is exposed and the massive hickey Blaine left the night before is staring everyone right in the face.
Blaine’s eyes widen and embarrassment washes over him. He quickly grabs the pitchers, unceremoniously drops them onto the table, then grabs Kurt by the hand and pulls him away from the douchebags in the muscle shirts.
He stops in front of the little coat room by the deserted hostess station and briefly looks around to see if anyone is watching. He opens the door, tugs Kurt inside with him, then locks the door.
Kurt stares at him, trying not to smile, and lets Blaine push him against the back of the closet as a few heavy jackets fall off of their hangers.
“Why didn’t you hide that?” Blaine says breathlessly, leaning in close to kiss him. “I know you have scarves — why wouldn’t you cover it up?”
“I didn’t want to,” Kurt says in between kisses, sounding just as breathless. “I like it.”
Blaine bites at Kurt’s neck and lets his hands wander under his shirt. “It’s humiliating, Kurt,” he says. “It makes me look like an asshole.”
“It doesn’t,” Kurt argues, grabbing Blaine’s jaw to pull him closer for another messy kiss. “It’s kind of hot.”
“It makes me look like I think I own you, Kurt,” Blaine says miserably before leaning in again because god, he is physically incapable of not kissing him right now. “Which we both know I don’t.”
Kurt hums against Blaine’s mouth and doesn’t say anything.
“And it makes me look pathetic,” he continues in between the frantic kisses, “like you’ve got all the power here.”
“Which we both know I do,” Kurt says with a teasing lilt.
Blaine freezes and pulls back.
Kurt’s staring at his mouth.
“Is this — is this fun for you?” Blaine asks, hurt.
“What?” Kurt asks, smile slowly fading.
Blaine blinks. “Santana was right. You’ve been playing me this whole week.”
He scoffs. “I wasn’t playing you.”
He reaches out to tug Blaine close again but Blaine takes a few steps back.
Kurt frowns. “I — I wasn’t. I mean, I wasn’t trying to,” he says, sounding concerned. “It’s just — I kept hearing what you said last week. About those three things you wanted me to remember.”
Blaine gives him a confused look.
“How I shouldn’t be clingy so you could spend time with your friends. And how I just needed to deal with it when everyone started flirting with you. And then you made it perfectly clear that even though we’d be spending a weekend together in a hotel in New York, I shouldn’t expect any kind of physical relationship.”
“That’s not how you were supposed to take any of those things,” Blaine says quietly. “You’re wrong on all three accounts.”
Kurt sighs, not listening. “And then the first night, with that guy at the bar, you saw us talk for ten seconds and suddenly you were all over me and — it was an accident, Blaine. I didn’t know you’d get like that.”
“But after that? It was on purpose?” Blaine asks, voice strained.
Kurt swallows. “I didn’t know you were this upset, I swear. Just suddenly, those things weren’t an issue anymore. I wasn’t worried about being clingy since you were constantly near me. And we were making very promising developments in our physical relationship.”
Blaine takes another step back. “I’ve been miserable, Kurt. Watching you do this. And you were doing it on purpose.”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” Kurt says, eyes wide, a little panicky.
“How would you have felt?” Blaine asks, sounding wounded. “How would you have felt if I did that to you?”
When Kurt doesn’t say anything right away, Blaine unlocks the door and heads back to join the rest of the fraternity.
After they get back to the hotel room, Blaine lies down on his side of the bed and Kurt stares at him, hesitant and timid like he’s actually worried that Blaine might make him sleep on the floor.
“Come lie down,” he says softly. “We have to wake up early tomorrow.”
Kurt slides under the covers and that night, he’s the one clinging tightly.
: : :
On Tuesday, once the bus drops them off in front of the house, Blaine laces his fingers with Kurt’s and quietly says, “Don’t leave? Mike’s going to Tina’s so maybe you could stay for a bit.”
Kurt nods. “Of course,” he says, just as quiet.
They don’t talk. Instead, they curl into each other and tangle their legs and take a two hour nap in Blaine’s bed. When they wake up, everything seems a bit more back to normal.
Kurt blinks up at him blearily. “I really am sorry, Blaine,” he whispers. “I didn’t know you were so bothered.”
“It was just hard to watch,” Blaine tells him as Kurt shifts around to rest his head on Blaine’s chest. “Guys basically coming out of the woodwork to hit on you and you just … letting them.”
Kurt’s quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose to be spiteful. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Blaine says. “But you were still doing it on purpose.”
Kurt doesn’t say anything.
“Please don’t try to — I don’t know. Don’t manipulate me,” Blaine says quietly. “It wasn’t fun. And I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You wouldn’t, I know,” Kurt agrees, voice shaky with emotion. He holds Blaine a little tighter.
They settle into a peaceful silence until Blaine shifts to reach over into the drawer of his nightstand.
“There’s something I want to give you,” he tells Kurt quietly. He hands over a small box.
Kurt sits up and untangles himself as he opens it. Inside is a small black and white pin with the three letters of his fraternity in the middle. He looks up at Blaine, quizzical. “What’s this?”
“It’s my pin. It’s — I’m pinning you.”
Kurt arches an eyebrow but Blaine’s too nervous and tense to fake a smile.
“It’s sort of a big deal in the Greek world,” he explains. “Giving someone your pin.”
Which is the understatement of the century because pinning someone is like, one step below proposing. He’s not saying that part out loud, though, because hello, they’ve only known each other for six months and he’s not about to scare the shit out of Kurt.
“Ah,” Kurt says, running his fingers over the pin. “So like a Greek promise ring?”
He’s teasing and Blaine’s face falls because yeah, that’s basically what it is.
Kurt notices and blinks. “Oh.”
“Well, I love it,” Kurt says softly. “Thank you.”
Blaine shifts closer to him and finally smiles. “It means you can wear my letters now, by the way. That’s how that works.”
Kurt raises his eyebrow again. “What?”
“Sweaters, t-shirts, jackets, you name it,” Blaine teases. “My frat-wear is now your frat-wear.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Maybe a tie?” Blaine tries, still grinning. “Seeing you wear the Greek letters would be pretty hot.”
Kurt rearranges them both until they’re lying back down, his head resting on Blaine’s chest again. “So I belong to you now?” he asks softly. “Is that it?”
Blaine’s quiet. “No. More like I belong to you.”
They lie like that for awhile and Blaine’s almost falling back asleep when Kurt says, “I wish I had something to give to you. Something that shows I belong to you, too.”
Blaine lets out a humorless laugh and ghosts his fingers along the hickey in Kurt’s neck. “I think this showcases it quite clearly.”
“I really am sorry,” Kurt says again. “I just wanted you to want me.”
“I do want you,” Blaine tells him emphatically. “I just didn’t want us to take a huge step in our relationship while drunk in a hotel.”
Kurt shifts to face him, resting his chin on Blaine’s chest and watching him carefully. “How about while sober in your room after telling me you belong to me?” he whispers. “Is that better?”
Blaine blinks rapidly. “Yeah,” he answers, swallowing thickly. “That’s better.”
: : :
They don’t leave Blaine’s room until he gets a text from Sam saying that they ordered pizza. It takes them forever because every time Kurt tries to put his clothes back on, Blaine takes them right off again. He doesn’t stop until both of their stomachs start to growl.
When they get downstairs, Blaine takes a seat on the couch and grabs a piece of pizza from the box sitting on Artie’s lap then looks up to see Artie gaping at Kurt. The second Kurt leaves to grab a drink from the kitchen, Artie turns to Blaine, eyes wide.
“Holy shit, Blaine pinned Kurt.”
Finn groans. “I’m trying to forget, thanks.”
“Yeah, you straddling your boyfriend in the back of a restaurant, that’s a picture I’ll never get out of my head,” Puck adds.
“No, like legit pinned him. Kurt’s wearing the pin right now!”
“God, shut up,” Blaine says. “Keep your voice down.”
Sam punches his arm. “What the hell, dude? You’re the only guy I know that would do that. The week is supposed to be about like, meaningless hookups and drunken mistakes and you top it off by pinning your boyfriend?”
“You’re so fucking whipped,” Puck says.
When Kurt walks back into the room holding two water bottles, he pauses awkwardly when he sees everyone staring at him.
“Holy shit, you did pin him, are you serious?” Finn asks, eyes wide.
Kurt gives him a defensive look. “I’ll take care of it.”
Finn’s jaw drops. “Seriously, Kurt? Your boyfriend basically just proposed to you and you’re acting like it’s no big deal?”
Kurt’s eyes dart over to Blaine’s. “What?”
He gives Kurt a weak smile. “Uh. Like I said, it’s a pretty big deal to the Greeks.”
“Oh,” he says, suddenly breathless.
Later, as he walks Kurt to the door, he gives him a sheepish smile. “You’re not giving it back, right? Now that you know how big of a deal it is?”
“Never,” Kurt says immediately.
They smile at each other and lean in for one last kiss before Kurt heads back to his dorm.
“But — you should probably meet my dad and Carole soon,” Kurt suggests. “Because I have a feeling Finn is texting them about this right now.”
Blaine breaks out into a wide grin. “Can’t wait.”
: : : : :
Rule #28 : A bro doesn’t turn a real bro away.
He can, however, definitely wait before introducing Kurt to his family. Well, part of his family.
Blaine’s in his room trying to cram for a pop quiz that he just knows is coming — and seriously, a pop quiz? Shouldn’t that stop after high school?
His phone rings and he answers it without thinking because no one but Kurt would have a reason to call him at eleven p.m. on a Wednesday.
“Hi,” Blaine says as he answers the call. He tries to sound as flirty as possible because hey, maybe Kurt will help him make flashcards again, totally worth a shot.
The last person he’s expecting is his brother.
“So I talked to Mom and Dad last night,” Cooper says, no pleasantries. “They said they met the BF. And I was wondering—”
“No,” Blaine says immediately. He doesn’t know what Cooper wants but he does know that he’s saying no to it, whatever it may be.
“Come on, little brother, it’s only for one night,” Cooper tries to argue.
“No,” Blaine repeats. “No way.”
Cooper lets out a dramatic sigh over the phone. “You’re not still mad about the Lego thing, are you? I swear, I never meant to knock your little tower over.”
Blaine narrows his eyes. “You dismantled an entire Lego city, Cooper. Don’t try and pretend it was an accident.”
“So it is about that, wow.”
Blaine rolls his eyes.“I was five, okay. I’ve moved past the Legos.”
Cooper’s quiet for a moment. “Okay then why not? I just need to crash there for one night. I’ll even sleep on the floor — although, FYI, that’s kind of a tool move, making your guest sleep on the floor —”
“Because you can’t,” Blaine says. “Just … because.”
“Seriously?” he asks, skeptical. “You won’t let your older brother stay for just one night? What kind of monster are you? I just want to hang with my brother, meet his boyfriend, maybe—”
“No,” Blaine rushes to add. “Definitely not.”
There’s silence on the line. “I can’t meet your boyfriend?”
Blaine shakes his head. “No. No, you can’t.”
Cooper’s quiet again. “You’re ashamed of me, is that it? People love me, Blaine. I’ll be on my best behavior. I won’t tell him about the time you threw up on the mall Santa when you were seven. Or how you still cry at the end of Monsters, Inc.”
“No, that’s — just, no, let it go,” Blaine sighs. “Find a hotel or something.”
“Why not?” Cooper asks since he’s totally incapable of letting anything go.
“You just can’t, okay?”
“Yeah but why?” he asks.
Blaine lets out a resigned sigh. “He — he likes those commercials, okay?”
Cooper pauses. “My commercials?”
Blaine lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. “Yeah, your commercials.”
“He’s a fan of credit reports?” he asks, confused.
Blaine rolls his eyes. “He’s a fan of you.”
Cooper perks up. “Really? Okay, well, when I come out, I’ll sign one of my headshots for him. Do you think he’d like the black and white one with my pensive face? Or the full color one where I’m looking meaningfully off camera? I mean, I guess he could have both—”
Blaine rolls his eyes again. “You’re not giving him a headshot. You’re not even meeting him, Coop.”
“You can’t hide him, forever, Bl-”
“Not forever,” Blaine agrees. “You can meet him if we get married. Like, after we get back from the honeymoon.”
Cooper gives him an annoyed sigh. “You’re serious.”
Blaine nods, still staring at the ceiling. “Definitely.”
“What if I sleep —”
“No,” Blaine says.
“Don’t you have a couch—”
Cooper sighs. “Okay, well what if —”
: : :
The conversation goes on for another ten minutes. Try as he might, Cooper doesn’t even come close to convincing Blaine that he should get to meet his brother’s boyfriend.
Three days later, Blaine catches Kurt humming the stupid commercial jingle under his breath and he grimaces.
He’s totally fine with his boyfriend and his brother meeting, oh for sure. It’ll just have to wait until like, their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
: : : : :
Rule #8 : A bro’s proper response to a task is always, “Challenge accepted.” Unless it involves bodily harm and then it’s, “You have fun with that.”
Spring Break is kind of depressing. Kurt goes to Florida and Blaine … does not.
“This is so boring,” Blaine says to himself.
“Fuck, is it going to be like this for the next six days?” Puck asks, turning the volume on the TV up a little louder.
“He’s only been gone for like, five hours,” Sam points out. “You can’t seriously be that bored.”
Blaine sighs and leans back into the couch. “But I am.”
: : :
It’s weird because Kurt’s only spent the night in Blaine’s bed a handful of times and yet it somehow still manages to feel lonely that first night.
: : :
On Saturday, Finn stares at him over the table while Blaine pushes some scrambled eggs around on his plate. Blaine’s got his elbow propped up on the table and his cheek resting on his fist so he’s pretty sure he looks like the perfect image of a pouting five year old.
“Dude,” Finn says finally. “Shut up. You’ve already talked about him three times and it’s not even noon.”
“I can’t help it,” he sighs.
Puck pauses in front of the refrigerator. “Then I’m not going to be able to help my fist colliding with your face.”
Blaine shoots him a dejected look.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Puck concedes, rolling his eyes. “I won’t actually resort to physical violence. But I will straight-up lock you out of the house.”
Blaine sighs again.
Finn gives him a considering look. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “If you go three days without mentioning him, I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”
Blaine meets his eyes, skeptical. “You’re seriously bribing me?”
“Yeah,” Finn says before pausing. “But actually, I only have about fifty bucks.”
“I’ll throw some cash in,” Artie adds.
“I’m not taking your money,” Blaine tells them, insulted. “That’s weird and borderline disturbing.”
“Okay, then don’t take actual money,” Finn says. “I’ll — I’ll buy you a hotel room for the night or something.”
“And I’ll score you a bottle of wine,” Artie suggests.
“This is awesome,” Sam says, oddly excited for some reason. “I’ll throw in a gift card to a fancy restaurant. You know, Applebee’s or whatever.”
Blaine wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Okay, now this has morphed into full-on disturbing.”
“Why?” Finn asks. “He’ll love it.” He pauses and watches Blaine carefully. “You two have done it by now, right? You know, like … it.”
“Really?” Puck says, frowning. “You think they’re doing it? The way they’re always so hands-off in public, you’d think they were like, Ken dolls down there.”
“Uh, what,” Sam says. “You do remember the two of them throwing each other against walls a few weeks ago, right?”
Artie raises an eyebrow. “And the peep show they put on in the back of a restaurant?”
“And hello, you can hear them when Mike’s not here and they’re all alone in his room,” Sam continues.
“Yeah that sucks,” Finn says sadly. “I wish these walls were thicker. Or that I didn’t have the room directly next door to to my brother’s boyfriend.”
“Stop,” Blaine tells them as he stands. He can feel his face heating up. “We’re not discussing the intimate details of my relationship with my boyfriend. And I’m not accepting hush money as motivation to not talk about him.”
The whole room is quiet.
“Holy shit,” Artie says finally. “You don’t think you can do it.”
“What?” Blaine says.
“You’re not doing it because you don’t want to do it,” Artie clarifies. “But because you don’t think you can.”
“That’s not why,” Blaine argues, still annoyed. “It’s because it’s creepy. Normal fraternity brothers wouldn’t pitch in money to buy a hotel room for another fraternity brother.”
Finn shrugs. “Maybe not but if you were normal then we wouldn’t have to. Normal guys don’t go on and on about their boyfriend even though other people are literally giving him money to stop talking.”
“You can’t do it,” Puck says with a smirk. “Artie’s right, you don’t think you can do it.”
Blaine stares down at them, defensive. “I — that’s not true. I could, if I wanted to.” When no one says anything, he repeats, “I could.”
Puck is unimpressed. “Then prove it.”
Blaine eventually lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine.”
Everyone cheers and they high five each other and Blaine walks out of the kitchen. “You’re all a bunch of assholes,” he says quietly.
: : :
On Sunday afternoon, they argue over which movie to watch. Artie wants some weird sci-fi film, Puck wants an action movie, Sam pushes for one of those cliché sport ones about the ragtag underdogs, and Finn suggests comedy. They eventually settle on 21 Jump Street and Blaine groans. “Kurt and I just watched that a few days ago. Something else?”
Artie sighs and Puck rolls his eyes. It takes Blaine a few moments to realize what he did.
“Sorry,” he says, cringing. “I’ll start over tomorrow.”
: : :
Monday night, they start discussing the last big party they’ll throw a few days before final exams and if it should have a theme. Then they start talking about the one they’ll have at the beginning of the fall semester once they’ve inducted their new pledges. Then they start talking about the yearly epic Halloween party.
“Have you thought about your costume yet?” Artie asks.
Blaine laughs. “It’s March.”
“You have to plan this shit early,” Artie says, eyes serious.
“I think I’ll go with Captain America,” Sam tells them. “Or Superman. Or Thor. Or—”
“Yeah, a superhero, we get it,” Artie says, rolling his eyes. “How original.”
Blaine mulls it over. “Maybe I’ll do a joint one this year; that could be fun. You know, Bert and Ernie, peanut butter and jelly, Buzz and Woody. Although I’m sure Kurt will come up with a way better idea than those.”
Finn shoots him a skeptical look. “You seriously think Kurt would go as peanut butter?” He shakes his head sadly and sighs. “Plus, I already heard him telling Rachel that you’d look good as a cop.”
Blaine flushes. “Yeah? He said that?”
Finn sighs again but a little less dramatically. “He didn’t say ‘good’. He actually said like a dreamy centerfold — his words, not mine!” he rushes to add. “So if I were you, I’d be prepared for cops and robbers.”
Blaine swallows thickly at the visual because Kurt would make a hot robber — wearing a pair of his black skinny jeans, the ones that look painted on, and maybe a black turtleneck, black leather boots — but really, Kurt would somehow find a way to make a hot peanut butter, too.
He shifts uncomfortably because he should probably stop thinking about these things while he’s hanging out with his friends and a little … pent up after having gone almost five whole days without so much as touching his boyfriend. His boyfriend that he’s not even allowed to talk about —
Blaine looks around the room and gives all of them a weak smile. “Uh. I’ll start again tomorrow?”
: : :
On Tuesday morning, he mopes over a bowl of cereal.
“Do we have any more Fruity Pebbles?” Sam asks he walks into the kitchen.
“Or Coco Puffs?” Artie asks as he wheels in behind him.
And instead of answering a simple question with a simple yes/no response, Blaine says, “Kurt never even called last night. He always calls.”
“Goddammit!” Puck calls from the dining room. “I heard that!”
Sam sighs. “Dude, It’s not even ten a.m.”
Blaine’s phone lights up then and he grins. “Gotta go, Kurt’s calling.”
“Seriously? Twice?” Puck calls again.
“This is just sad to watch,” he hears Artie say as Blaine books it out of the kitchen.
He passes by Mike on his way to the stairs and says, “Hey, stay down here for awhile; I just want like, ten minutes of privacy to talk with Kurt.”
“Three times?” Puck yells out. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Blaine ignores him. “Hi,” he says breathlessly as he answers the call.
“Hi,” Kurt says back. Blaine can hear the smile in his voice.
“I miss you,” he says immediately.
“Me, too,” Kurt tells him. “And I’m so sorry I didn’t call you last night but there was a fight, Blaine. An actual real bar fight.”
Blaine tenses, instantly concerned. “You got into a bar fight?”
Kurt scoffs. “Hardly. Two idiots on a Bud Light bender started a fight over a girl and then someone whipped out a knife.”
Blaine gives him a confused look even though Kurt can’t see it. “Why do you sound excited?”
“A bar fight,” he repeats. “The cops came and I got questioned as a witness. It was exhilarating.”
“Okay,” Blaine says slowly, huffing out a small laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“So how was your night?”
And instead of answering a simple question with a simple monosyllabic answer, Blaine says, “You’d look hot as a robber. For Halloween, I mean.”
Kurt’s quiet. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. Thank you?”
“But I’d like to re-negotiate our once-a-year hickey rule. I should get to leave one somewhere visible before the Halloween party.”
Kurt’s quiet again. “I’m open to negotiations,” he says softly.
And his voice, god, Blaine starts thinking things that he can’t afford to be thinking, not when Mike could come back up to their room any minute.
They talk for a few more minutes until Kurt’s forced off the phone by one of his friends, apparently to drag him off to the beach. And shit, Kurt shirtless in swim trunks, Blaine’s about to go out of his damn mind with these visuals.
Only a few more days.
: : :
Wednesday looks promising. He almost makes it the whole day.
“Oh,” Blaine says after he finishes eating his piece of pizza. “Finn, I almost forgot. Kurt told me to tell you that Burt and your mom are coming up next weekend to take you guys out so he said to make sure you’re not hung-over.”
Finn rolls his eyes and Puck lets out a disgusted sigh. One by one, they all filter out of the room and Mike says, “This is sad and disappointing, I won’t lie.”
Artie shakes his head. “Lame, Blaine.”
Blaine stares after them and he’s immediately apologetic. “Hey, I’m sorry, guys!” he calls out after them.
: : :
On Thursday, he wakes up to Mike and Sam hovering above him.
“Oh my god,” he chokes out, scrambling to sit up.
“Don’t say a single word,” Sam warns, not even bothering to apologize for being so unbelievably creepy.
“Oh my god,” Blaine repeats, wide eyed. “Were you watching me sleep? What is wrong with the people in this house?”
“This is literally your last chance,” Mike says, blatantly ignoring him. “Kurt gets back on Sunday so you have to make it through today, tomorrow, and Saturday to win this.”
Blaine’s heart rate returns to normal and he nods. “I know.”
“So we’re helping you out,” Sam explains. “Talk as little as you can all day, okay? And if you look like you’re about to blow it, one of us will do something to stop you.”
Blaine eyes them warily.
“Like interrupt you,” Mike says.
“Or just straight up kick you,” Sam says.
Mike side-eyes him.
Blaine hesitates. “Yeah, okay.”
: : :
Surprisingly and against all odds, Blaine makes it entirely through Thursday and almost all the way through Friday with their help. But then they go to a bar Friday night and his winning streak just about ends.
He’s ordering his second beer when his phone starts buzzing. “Oh—”
Mike clears his throat loudly.
“—I’m going outside for a minute. K—”
And then suddenly, Blaine’s sprawled out on the floor, his stool kicked out from under him. It works, though, because instead of saying Kurt’s name aloud, he’s lying on the gross bar floor, his arm at a weird angle under his body. All he can think think is, God I hope my wrist isn’t broken.
: : :
His wrist is broken.
Blaine spends half the night in the ER with an apologetic Sam and a totally freaked-out Finn. Once he’s cleared for discharge, they drive him back, tuck him into bed, and force feed him some pain pills.
: : :
He wakes up on Saturday to see Finn sitting in a kitchen chair that he must have dragged into Blaine’s bedroom.
“Hey,” Finn says quietly.
Blaine’s wrist is throbbing and he tries to clear his head, still groggy from the pain meds.
“I answered your phone last night when Kurt called. I hope that’s cool.”
Blaine blinks and doesn’t say anything. He’s never been high before. Is this what it feels like to be high?
He sees Sam hovering in the doorway. “I am so sorry, man.”
Blaine’s still quiet and wills the room to stop spinning. He is never accidentally getting high again.
Shit, his arm hurts. He’s never accidentally breaking his wrist again, either.
“I picked up your prescription from the pharmacy,” Sam says as he takes a few steps into the room. “They’re right next to you.”
“And here,” Puck says, following behind Sam. “I made you soup.”
Finn eyes him.
“Fine, I bought you soup.” Puck pauses. “Okay, whatever, Artie bought you soup. I just microwaved it.”
It’s Sam’s turn to eye him.
“Okay, Mike heated it, fuck you both.”
Blaine eats the soup and then someone shoves the pain pills towards him and that’s basically all he remembers. His alarm goes off a few hours later and he hears someone say, “Here, it’s time for more medicine,” and then whoever it is practically forces them into his mouth. Needless to say, Blaine spends most of the day in a medicated coma.
: : :
On Sunday, he feels drastically better and his wrist is more of a dull ache then a throbbing pain.
He looks at Finn hopefully, still sitting in the kitchen chair and reading an ESPN magazine. “Well?” he asks him. “Did I make it three days?”
Finn looks up and gives him a blank stare. “Uh, no.”
Blaine’s face falls and he looks towards Mike who’s sitting on his bed doing some kind of school work. Mike meets his eyes and says, “Definitely no.”
Blaine lets out a defeated sigh. “Was I even close?”
“Uh, no,” Finn repeats. “You spent a good fifteen minutes listing your top ten favorite things about Kurt. Four of them I never need to hear again.”
“Part of it was in song,” Mike adds.
Blaine lies back down and stares at the ceiling. “Oh.”
The room is quiet for a few minutes.
“You tried to write haikus about his smile,” Finn tells him.
Blaine turns his head. “That … is embarrassing,” he says, frowning. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it wasn’t embarrassing until you started with the limericks,” Finn replies.
“You are no poet,” Mike says.
A few more pain pills are shoved at him again and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up to Kurt staring down at him, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”
Blaine smiles. “Hey, you.”
Kurt weakly returns the smile. “Seriously, are you okay?”
Blaine shifts on his bed to make space, wincing a little when he moves his wrist too soon.
“Stop,” Kurt hisses. “Don’t move it; what are you doing?”
“Making room for you,” Blaine says. “I’ll be careful. Just lie down next to me.”
Kurt watches him warily. “Okay but — god, stop jostling it, Blaine!”
A few minutes later, Kurt’s beside him, head resting on Blaine’s chest.
“So what’s this about a hotel room?” Kurt asks a few minutes later.
“What?” he says back.
He feels Kurt shrug. “I don’t know. Finn said something about getting us a hotel room? And Sam gave me a gift card to Applebee’s.” He pauses. “It was … strange.”
Blaine frowns. “Oh. Really?”
Kurt doesn’t push the issue which is kind of sad because it means that he assumes Blaine’s fraternity brothers are weird enough to buy them a hotel room for no discernible reason.
: : :
Finn tells him later that they’re cutting him some slack because anything he said while in a medicated coma really can’t be held against him.
“Plus,” Finn says. “A couple of the limericks weren’t all that bad.”
Blaine shakes his head to himself. He has some weird friends.
: : : : :
And finally - Rule #20 : If you text your guy to see if he will send thou sexy pics, don’t expect a positive response. Also: just don’t do it.
It’s four days before the official beginning of summer break and Blaine’s almost dreading it. They’re sitting on the couch in the practically empty frat house, Kurt reading something on his phone while Blaine lies with his head in Kurt’s lap, watching baseball on TV.
“So I found a bro code online,” Kurt tells him.
“A what?” Blaine asks, eyes still on the TV.
“A Survival Guide to Dating a Frat Guy,” Kurt reads. “I’m preparing myself for the next two years.”
Blaine rolls his eyes.
“It’s telling me that I’m second — that I will always be second — to your fraternity and the sooner I learn that, the healthier we’ll be.”
Blaine scoffs. “Whatever. Stop reading. Google search for another survival guide.”
Kurt doesn’t listen, though, and keeps reading. “It says I should always keep you guessing as to where I am and what I’m doing. It’ll keep you interested, I guess.”
Blaine keeps his eyes on the game. “Please don’t do that,” he sighs. “This is a dumb guide.”
Kurt hums, still reading. “It warns me that your whole frat will know everything about our relationship including every fight and — oh, it says here you’ll want to brag about our sex life so I should make sure to keep it interesting.”
“Give me your phone,” Blaine says, shifting to look up at Kurt. “You’re not reading that anymore. It’s stupid.”
“Ooh, but this one is good,” Kurt continues, holding the phone just out of Blaine’s reach. “It says I need to make sure that I look like an eight at all times because if I do, you’ll have no need for wandering eyes. It says you’ll be less likely to cheat on me but then in parentheses it clarifies ‘most times’. Isn’t that just heart-warming.”
“Kurt,” Blaine groans, making another attempt to grab his phone. “Seriously, stop. Find a better guide. One that talks about important things.”
Kurt pauses. “Such as…”
He shrugs. “One that offers pointers on how to politely fake it if your fraternity boyfriend is a terrible cook and tries to make you cookies. Or how to effectively persuade your American fraternity boyfriend that you love him just as he is if he ever tries to imitate the sexy foreign accent of your Spanish professor or your British T.A.”
Kurt blinks down at him, quiet for a few moments. “You,” he whispers, smiling. “What am I going to do with you?”
Blaine grins up at him and shrugs again.
Later, Kurt falls asleep during the seventh inning and Blaine tries his hand at Google searching. It’s horrible. No matter what words he uses, no matter what phrases he puts into the search engine, it’s horrible. Even the websites proclaiming they have pro/con guides to dating someone in a fraternity have terrible terrible pros. If Blaine was contemplating dating someone in a fraternity, the internet would have successfully talked him out of it. He tries to find a website, just one measly article, that he can send to Kurt to show him all of the perks of dating a frat guy but according to the internet? There are no perks.
“Okay,” Blaine says calmly to Kurt’s sleeping form. “If I can just convince you to never use the internet again, we should be fine.”
: : :
When Kurt wakes, Blaine tugs him upstairs to the third floor of the house.
“This is my room next year,” Blaine says, throwing the door open. “It’s a single.”
Kurt eyes him warily, still looking a little sleepy. “Okay,” he says slowly.
“I have my own sink. And a bigger bed. And look, I have so much more space. And a window,” he continues, giving Kurt a searching look. “You could bring an easel or a desk or something, whatever you want.”
“Okay?” Kurt says, confused.
Blaine slumps his shoulders. “There are good things about dating someone in a fraternity, Kurt.”
“I didn’t say there weren’t,” he replies, still confused.
Blaine sighs. “According to the internet, there aren’t.”
Kurt blinks and takes a few steps forward. “Well the internet doesn’t know my boyfriend. He’s different.”
Blaine gives him a hopeful look. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Kurt agrees quietly.
He steps closer until he’s in Kurt’s personal space and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. “So you like fraternities now then?” he asks with a flirty grin.
But Kurt doesn’t give him a flirty smile in return. Instead, he watches Blaine with sincere eyes and softly says, “The great be-all-end-all one true love of my life is in a fraternity.”
Blaine blinks. “Oh. Right.”
Kurt drapes his arms over Blaine’s shoulders and Blaine pulls him a bit closer, tighter. “That’s plenty reason for me to like fraternities.”
Blaine raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, one fraternity,” Kurt clarifies.
Blaine watches him some more.
“Okay, one person in one fraternity.”
Blaine gives him a slow smile. “I’ll take it.”
They smile at each other before leaning in for a long kiss.
“I never thought I’d be dreading summer vacation,” Blaine sighs. “It’ll be forever until we get to see each other again.”
“We’ll see each other,” Kurt promises. “I’m not going the whole summer without seeing you.”
“I know,” he says with another sigh.
“Just two weeks,” Kurt says. “I know my dad wants to meet you again and Carole’s already working on some elaborate dinner menu.”
Blaine grins again. “Two weeks? You mean twelve days and four hours.”
“Yes,” Kurt laughs quietly. “That’s what I meant.”
: : :
Blaine’s only been home for a few days when he gets a little homesick for school — for the house, for his brothers, for his boyfriend.
He sends Kurt a text that night: I haven’t seen you in awhile. Maybe you should send me a fun pic. ;)
He’s laughing as he sends it because yeah right, like he actually expects Kurt to send him pervy pictures from his cell phone. So obviously his heart skips a few beats when he gets a text that just says: Okay, here you go.
Blaine swallows thickly, practically thrumming with nerves.
And when the picture comes through, Blaine’s eyes widen and he almost drops his phone. It’s a picture of Kurt wearing a snug t-shirt, the three letters of Blaine’s fraternity emblazoned tall and wide right in the middle.
He takes a few moments to send out Oh my god, Kurt, that is like the hottest thing ever.
Kurt sends back: I’m glad you like it. Wait until you see the new cardigan with your letters displayed prominently in the the corner. I now have three colors.
Blaine’s eyes actually get wider and he’s trying to think of a coherent response when he receives one last text.
And Blaine? Wait until you see my new yoga pants. :)
: : :
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