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Thank God for all the booze in his system, or Kurt would be freaking the fuck out right now.

He sucks in a deep breath of icy cold air and turns around.

There he is, almost more insanely perfect than he remembers. He's dressed in jeans and a dark blue button-down that's rolled up to reveal perfectly toned forearms that Kurt has to consciously tell himself not to stare at. His hair is still slicked back the same way it had been earlier, although it's slightly messier and bits of his dark curls are starting to show through and it's somehow both adorable and fucking sexy at the same time. And maybe it's just the alcohol but as soon as they lock eyes, Kurt a jolt of energy flow through his entire body, making his freezing fingers twitch slightly and his heart race. Mercifully, he blinks once and regains what little composure he has left. Shit, shit, shit, how long have you been fucking staring?! Say something, dumbass!

"Yeah, yeah, no problem," Kurt mutters, pulling the pack out of his leather jacket - the same jacket he had on earlier that day. I look like a fucking slob. Doesn't seem like he remembers me anyway, and even if he does, I don't even know that he's gay, and if he is gay, he's probably not interested in your drunk ass. Great. Great, he thinks to himself as he hands the other boy a cigarette and a lighter.

"Thanks," the not-so-much-of-a-stranger says, and it could be just Kurt's imagination but he swears he sees the boy's all-too-familiar hazel eyes flicker up and down his body as he lights the cigarette. He inhales deeply, and as he slowly lets the smoke trickle out of his lips that are pink with the cold, Kurt's not sure he's ever been this simultaneously turned on and terrified of rejection by someone who, as far as he knows, has no recollection of him whatsoever.

"Wait a sec," the boy says suddenly says, and Kurt's heart goes from beating hummingbird-fast to stopping altogether. "Sorry, this is probably creepy as all hell, but you look so familiar," he continues as he flicks his cigarette. Kurt concentrates on watching the red-hot ashes fall from the tip so he doesn't completely lose it. "Can't quite place it. I'm also verging on completely smashed, so I'm not really at my most articulate," he adds with a devilishly handsome grin. Jesus Christ.

Kurt takes a long drag on his cigarette in a last-ditch effort to calm himself down and responds. "Oh, yeah, I think you actually handed me these this morning after I dropped 'em," he says, trying to sound casual. Okay, good job so far, you don't seem too insane and/or desperate. Keep it going. "Outside Starbucks?"

The other boy's eyes widen and he nods vigorously. "Oh, yeah, no shit! Of course," he says, still smiling that fucking perfect smile. "I remember you." Kurt feels his stomach drop with a combination of excitement and nerves as he gives the boy a slight smile. "I remember the jacket," he adds, absentmindedly running his hand along the brick wall behind him. "Nice jacket. Looks great on you."

Jesus. Christ.

"Well, thanks," Kurt responds, still feeling like he's going to fucking explode. "I'm Kurt, by the way." He picks up the whiskey he's set down beside him and takes an enormous sip. As the familiar burn of alcohol slides through him, he feels himself loosen up the tiniest bit. "You know, you're not too bad yourself," he says without thinking, then immediately turns away. You fucking idiot! You don't even know he's gay! What the hell is your deal? He puts out his cigarette, forces down another sip of whiskey, and squeezes his eyes for a split second, praying mystery boy didn't hear.

But he did hear. Because out of the corner of his eye, he sees the boy turns his head and this time Kurt's absolutely certain he looks him up and down. Kurt downs the last of his drink, sets the cup down, and thank god for liquid courage because he finally has the balls to turn around so they're face to face. He's face to face with this mysterious, smooth, fucking irresistible mystery guy whose name he doesn't even know. Yet.

The boy puts out his half-smoked cigarette and takes a step towards him, and simply says, "Blaine." Blaine. Kurt wants to repeat it, to feel the name in his mouth, but he doesn't because they're close now. Too close, so close that Kurt notices the warm air leaving both their mouths as they breathe, meeting in the middle and then dissolving in the frosty night. It takes every bit of willpower inside him not to shove Blaine - god, finally a fucking perfect name to pair with that perfect face - against the wall right there and kiss him, kiss him over and over and run his hands along those perfectly built shoulders and his fingers through that hair, and feel the friction between their bodies, exchanging heat and sparks and fire.

But he doesn't.

He doesn't need to.

Because Blaine does it instead.

Before Kurt even fully comprehends what's happening, Blaine's hands are on his chest and he slams Kurt into the wall, pressing his mouth to Kurt's a split second after. And it's everything Kurt expected it to be because it's overwhelming and it's soft and rough and passionate and perfect, all at the same time. As Blaine's tongue moves in and out of his mouth skillfully - god, he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing - Kurt responds and knots his fingers through Blaine's hair, which is far softer than Kurt expects, what with all the hair gel. Blaine opens his mouth and lets out a shaky, red-hot breath, and Kurt breathes in at the exact same time and tastes him - tastes alcohol and smoke and something else that can't quite put his finger on because it's just him, it's just Blaine, and it's driving him absolutely crazy. Kurt needs more, needs him closer, so he loops one arm around the small of Blaine's back and pushes himself up against him, feeling the other boy's body ripple and then connect with his, like they're the only two pieces of the same fucked up puzzle.

Blaine slides a hand up the back of Kurt's neck and - oh god - lightly pulls on his hair, sending a jolt of tension and desire shooting down Kurt's spine. Before he knows what he's doing, he lets out a soft moan and grinds his pelvis against Blaine's, feeling Blaine's very obviously hard cock press against his own. Blaine groans and tears his mouth away, panting slightly. "Oh my God, Kurt," he breathes, running a hand down Kurt's side and over towards his inner thigh. Kurt's standing still, he doesn't dare move because he's afraid the slightest movement will wake him up from this dream and take him back to the party and his friends that are still inside and he doesn't want that. He wants Blaine to touch him, needs it like air, and the thought of this terrifyingly, dangerously perfect moment ending is a nightmare Kurt can't even think about right now.

"I don't even- I don't even fucking know what I'm doing right now," Blaine murmurs in Kurt's ear, pressing an unbearably light kiss to his neck. "I don't know what this is," - another torturous kiss - "and I don't know why," - and another - "but I just feel something right now, something I can't control, and I don't know much but I know it's because of you." He moves his head away from Kurt's neck just long enough for them to lock eyes for a split second before Kurt just nods and grabs the back of Blaine's head again and kisses him, their mouths moving together perfectly, exchanging body heat.

"Fuck, Blaine," Kurt growls, surprising himself with how low and deep and animal his voice sounds. He's terrified, terrified because he's never felt this way before and of course he's had boyfriends and of course he's dated around, but he's known Blaine for less than twenty-four hours and he can't remember a time when he's felt such desperate passion and need towards someone. And it seems as though Blaine's feeling the same way, because he clutches Kurt even closer and bites his lip slightly, sending an agonizing mix of pain and pleasure through Kurt's core.

Kurt runs a hand down Blaine's torso, sliding it underneath his untucked shirt and slowly unbuttoning the top of Blaine's jeans. "Jesus Christ, Kurt," Blaine says in an achingly sexy whine, "please don't stop, please."

"Couldn't stop if I wanted to," Kurt responds, and he's got his fingers around the zipper of Blaine's jeans when all of a sudden they hear a door slide open. The sound of chatter and music fill the thick night air, and the boys leap apart when they realize they're not alone.