Kurt's heart was thumping quickly as he made his way with Blaine to Club Shelter. As they got closer, he could see a line of people near the door. He was surprised to find that he was excited. He'd never been to a club before and he had no idea what to expect, but a big part of him loved trying new things even if he sometimes avoided it for comfort's sake. He just imagined himself letting loose in a crowd full of strangers, dancing with Blaine to his heart's content.

He moved to stand in the back of the line when Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him past the people and up to the front door. "Blaine, the line –" he said.

Blaine just shot him a look and shook his head a little. "Hey, Jerry," Blaine said. Kurt saw that he was directing his statement to the burly bouncer with a shaved head, arms as big around as Kurt's head and covered in tattoos. Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen anyone more intimidating looking and Blaine was greeting him like an old friend.

"Blaine," the guy, Jerry, said, smiling and tipping his head in greeting. "I was wondering about you when you didn't show that ugly mug of yours around last night. Thought you died or something."

Blaine chuckled. "No such luck."

Jerry's gaze followed down Blaine's arm to their connected hands and then up Kurt's arm to his face. "And who's this?" Jerry asked. He didn't say it in a way that made Kurt uncomfortable, though. It was more a tone of genuine interest.

"My friend Kurt," Blaine answered. "Kurt, this is Jerry, the absolute worst bouncer in SOHO," Blaine said with a teasing grin.

"Oh, you want me to start enforcing the rules, is that it?" Jerry said, crossing his arms over his torso and squaring his entire body in front of the door.

"Now, come on, Jerry, you know I didn't mean it," Blaine said, punching Jerry lightly on his flexed arm.

"Mhm," Jerry replied. He dropped his official looking stance and gestured for the boys to go in. "Get your butt in there before I make you go stand in line."

"Right away!" Blaine said cheekily, pulling Kurt into the building.

"It was nice to meet you!" Kurt called quickly before the door closed behind them. He didn't think the bouncer heard him, though, because his words were swallowed by the ear-numbingly loud music.

Kurt let his eyes trace the entire view before him. The first thing he noticed was the giant stuffed teddy bear screwing an equally large ram near the entranceway. Kurt's eyebrows shot up, but he figured he probably didn't want to know. His eyes then went to the satellite groups of friends hanging out along the edges of the room, the wall length bar on the opposite side of the room, and then to the mass of writhing bodies that was the dance floor. Finally, his eyes landed on Blaine's, who was staring at Kurt, no doubt seeing how he was taking all the sudden noise and movement.

Kurt gave Blaine a small smile and Blaine leaned in to Kurt's ear so he could be heard. "You want to get a drink?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And how do you figure we'll do that?" he replied loudly.

Blaine shrugged his shoulders, sending Kurt a cryptic smile. "Do you want one or not?"

Kurt nodded. He was definitely going to need a drink before he was ready to enter the sweaty, dense mass of bodies on the dance floor. Still holding Kurt's hand, Blaine led him through the crowded room. Kurt felt someone pinch his ass. He turned around to glare at whoever had done it, but no one was looking at him and there were far too many people to tell who it had been. He just inched closer to Blaine, nearly pressing himself against his friend's back to keep them from getting separated.

A few minutes later they finally made it to the bar. Kurt looked over his shoulder and couldn't believe they had made it through so many people at all. "What do you want?" Blaine asked, turning to look at Kurt.

Their faces were extremely close, and Kurt blushed. He had no idea what he wanted. His go-to drink was a Shirley Temple, which obviously wouldn't work. "I have no idea," he said sheepishly.

Blaine looked at Kurt thoughtfully. His eyes rested on Kurt's parted lips for a second, and then he smiled. "I've got you covered," he said.

He turned back to the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to get to them. About five minutes later, an exhausted looking twenty-something guy came up to them. "Hey, man, the usual?" the guy asked Blaine.

"Yeah," Blaine shouted. "And a Cherry Bomb for my friend." The bartender nodded, turning to get busy making their drinks. Kurt reached for his wallet, but Blaine stopped him. "I've got it," he said, pulling out his own wallet.

"Uh, no, Blaine. You don't have to buy my drinks," Kurt said.

"You can get the next round," Blaine replied, sliding a few bills out of his wallet.

"Fine," Kurt said, pocketing his wallet.

The bartender returned with their drinks and Blaine released Kurt's hand to pay their bill and grab them. "Don't take drinks from anyone but me or the bartender, okay?" Blaine said, handing Kurt his drink.

"As if I would take a drink from a random stranger," Kurt answered before sipping his drink. "Oh my god! This is delicious." Kurt took a bigger sip, relishing the flavor. There was a burning sensation as he swallowed, but as the name suggested, the cherry flavor felt like it was exploding in his mouth.

Blaine laughed. "I didn't know it was possible for a human being to like cherries as much as you do." He headed toward the wall on the side of the bar and Kurt followed close behind, sipping his drink again. Okay, maybe he would have to give alcohol more of a chance. He had no idea it could taste so freaking good.

The boys settled into an area with a little room around them on all sides. Blaine leaned against the wall and Kurt faced him with his back to the dance floor. "What did you get?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine's dark colored drink.

"A Bacardi and Coke. Want to try it?" He held his glass out for Kurt to inspect.

"Sure," Kurt replied, shrugging. He took a swallow from Blaine's drink and immediately started spluttering and coughing. His throat felt like it was on fire. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "That's disgusting! It tastes like carbonated perfume. How can you stand that?"

Blaine laughed. "It's not that bad!"

"I'll stick with my Cherry Deliciousness, thank you very much," Kurt replied, taking a large swallow from his drink to get the taste of Blaine's out of his mouth. The contrast made it seem almost like tasting it again for the first time.

Kurt began bobbing to the music. He didn't much care for extremely loud music generally, but there was something about being in a club that made it seem right. It could've also had something to do with how much everyone else was enjoying it.

Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah
I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no no
I get a good feeling, yeah

Kurt remembered Blaine's comment about clubs from a couple weeks ago and thought it was actually pretty spot on. He looked around and saw that people for the most part were just enjoying themselves. There weren't nearly as many vomiting, obnoxious, drunk people as he assumed there would be.

"So, what do you think?" Blaine asked, noticing Kurt's survey of the people near them.

Kurt shrugged. "It's actually okay," he replied.

He took another sip of his drink and was surprised to find that it was his last. He had finished his drink that quickly? Kurt mentally took stock of how he was feeling. He felt a little warm, kind of like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold Christmas morning. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, kind of bubbly. He was pretty sure it was what happiness felt like.

He smiled to himself. He might have to take up this drinking thing.

"Do you want another?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded vigorously. "Yes, please."

Blaine snickered, downed his drink and grabbed Kurt's empty glass. "Wait right here, okay? Don't move. I'll be right back."

"Wait!" Kurt said, reaching for his wallet. "It's my turn to pay."

Blaine smirked at him and ducked in front of a big group of people before Kurt could take any money out. "Dammit, Blaine Anderson!" Kurt called. His voice was swallowed up by the loud bass coming from the speakers above his head. Was Blaine seriously not going to let him pay for anything? Kurt decided he'd have to find a way to slip some money into Blaine's pocket before the night was up. It wouldn't be an easy feat, though. Blaine's pants were extraordinarily tight.

Friends or not, as Blaine walked away Kurt couldn't keep his mind or his eyes off of Blaine's –

"Nice ass!"

Startled, Kurt turned to see a guy leering at him. He was attractive, Kurt supposed, but he really wasn't Kurt's type.

"Um, thanks," Kurt replied scathingly.

"Wanna dance?" the guy asked. The way he was looking at Kurt made him feel naked. A mixture of anger, alcohol, and discomfort was making heat rise to his cheeks.

"No, thank you," Kurt replied. He crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm here with someone." He actually didn't know if that was technically true. He and Blaine had come together, obviously, but were they here together? Would Blaine be dancing with other guys? Would he dance with Kurt? Should Kurt dance with other guys?

Kurt didn't know the answers to any of those questions, but he did know he didn't want some random guy grinding up against him, and anyway, Blaine had told him to stay right there.

"Well, he's crazy to leave you alone. If you were mine, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second." The guy moved in closer to Kurt, who took a step back. He was smiling in a way that Kurt was sure he thought was sexy but that Kurt just found disturbing. There was nothing he hated more than a pushy guy.

Glaring at the guy, he retorted, "I don't belong to anyone, least of all you. Now, if you'd be so kind as to get out of my face, that'd be great."

Kurt was hoping that if he were rude enough, the guy would get bored and walk away, but apparently being resistant only made the guy even more interested. What a creeper, Kurt thought.

"Oh, I see. You're playing hard to get. C'mon, baby. We both know how this is going to end. You're going to pretend you don't want me so you can keep your dignity intact, but eventually you're going to give in and come home with me so I can fuck that sweet ass of –"

"Is there a problem?" Kurt heard from behind the guy. Recognizing Blaine's voice, Kurt glanced over the guy's shoulder with a relieved look. He was only relieved for a second, though, because when he caught sight of Blaine's livid face, the tension in his body went up a notch. He really didn't want any drama tonight. He just wanted to dance and drink and have a good time.

The guy gave Kurt a final slow once over before turning to look at Blaine. The guy easily had six inches on Blaine, but the look on Blaine's face was terrifying even to Kurt, and it wasn't directed at him. "Nah, man. There's no problem," he said.

The guy walked away, and Blaine glared at him until he disappeared into the crowd. He turned back to Kurt and Kurt saw his body become less tense as he forced a smile. "Dammit, Kurt, I can't take you anywhere."

Kurt reached for the drink Blaine had brought him. "Oh, so it's my fault some sleazy guy came over and hit on me?" Kurt took a giant gulp from his drink, consuming nearly half of it in one swallow. The incident with Creepy Drunk Guy had sobered him up considerably, and he was chasing that happy feeling he'd had before.

Blaine shrugged. "Well, you did decide to wear those pants."

Kurt looked down at his pants. They were one of his favorite pairs, maroon Ralph Lauren skinny jeans. Granted, they were also one of his tightest pairs of pants. "What's wrong with my pants?"

Blaine laughed. "Nothing. C'mon let's dance."

Kurt finished the rest of his drink, put his empty glass on a nearby table and grabbed Blaine's hand.

"Yes, lets."

Sweat poured down Blaine's face as he danced pressed so close to Kurt he was surprised they hadn't fused into one person.

They had been dancing for hours, and Blaine thought it was safe to say that Kurt was drunk. Kurt had Blaine revisiting the bar pretty often, drinking Cherry Bombs like they were going out of style. When Blaine tried to make Kurt pace himself, Kurt threatened to get a random guy buy him a drink if Blaine wouldn't.

By the looks Kurt was getting from guys all night, Blaine was pretty sure he wouldn't have very much trouble.

So for Blaine's sanity and Kurt's safety, Blaine honored Kurt's requests for drinks, but when Kurt wasn't paying attention, Blaine made sure to have the bartender make Kurt's drinks light. Still, Kurt wasn't accustomed to drinking period, much less hard liquor and it wasn't long until he was pretty wasted.

He wasn't throwing up or anything, but he was dancing with total abandon. Blaine had never seen Kurt so carefree. He himself had stopped after about three drinks, but he still felt utterly intoxicated. The music, the people, the flashing lights, and Kurt. Kurt everywhere. In his pores, on his clothes, grinding against his hips.

Ever since Kurt had come out of Blaine's room in those damn maroon pants, Blaine had wanted to rip them off of him. Now, with Kurt's ass pressed against Blaine's half-hard cock, he was fearful for the state of both of their pants. And he'd be damned if they didn't keep playing songs that made Blaine want to bend Kurt over and fuck him right there on the dance floor.

'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, threading his hands through Blaine's curls. Blaine saw a guy a few feet away scan his eyes up and down Kurt's body, and Blaine pulled him closer possessively. He ran his hands from Kurt's elbows down his sides, and then rested them on Kurt's hips.

Kurt's head was thrown back, resting on Blaine's shoulder. His eyes were closed, but his face was full of bliss. Blaine's eyes trained onto the exposed area of Kurt's neck that was right by his lips. It took everything in Blaine not to latch on to Kurt's neck and taste him. He watched as a single bead of sweat trailed from Kurt's hairline down his neck and then stopped at his shirt. Blaine nearly groaned in frustration.

The only thing that kept Blaine in check when all he wanted more than anything in that moment was the taste of Kurt on his tongue was the thought that Kurt was indeed drunk. He knew he was treading a very fine line. He didn't want to take advantage of his friend.

No, he refused to take advantage of Kurt, especially after what Kurt had told him earlier that day. Kurt was drunk and Blaine wasn't, and Blaine was going to take care of Kurt and make sure nothing happened that Kurt would regret in the morning.

The song shifted into another and Kurt laughed in delight at hearing the unique beat. "I love this song!" he shouted. Blaine couldn't help but laugh with Kurt. He didn't realize how tightly wound Kurt always was until he saw him like this, without worries or inhibitions.

When I walk in the spot, this is what I see
Everybody stops and they starin' at me
I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it

Show it, show it, show it
I'm sexy and I know it

Kurt turned his head and Blaine felt Kurt's breath as he panted in his ear. Blaine swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. Kurt's hands were still wound in his hair and Blaine felt him tighten his grip. Almost on their own accord, Blaine's hands tightened on Kurt's hips and pulled him even closer.

For a beat the club was silent, and then the song resumed. Holy fuck, Blaine had forgotten about the "wiggle, wiggle" part. Every time the song said "wiggle," Kurt followed its command, shimmying his hips and rubbing his ass on Blaine's now completely hard cock. Blaine moaned and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. He was about two seconds from completely ruining his pants and embarrassing the hell out of himself.

After the second set of "wiggles," Blaine made what was possibly the most difficult decision of his life. He reached his arms around his neck, grabbed Kurt's hands and detached Kurt from himself, thrusting Kurt away from him.

Kurt looked shocked. The lust and alcohol were no doubt making his head swim. Blaine could see through his glassy stare as Kurt tried his hardest to fight the intoxication and make sense of his surroundings. "What's wrong?" Blaine saw Kurt mouth. They were in the loudest part of the club and even shouting as Kurt had probably done, Blaine couldn't hear him.

Blaine took a deep, calming breath to try and lower his heart rate and clear his head. He stuck his hand out and Kurt grabbed it without a shred of hesitation. Kurt's unyielding trust in Blaine made shame wash through him. It was just dancing, Blaine chided himself.

When they had gotten to the edge of the dance floor – Kurt stumbling drunkenly along behind Blaine making the process that much more difficult – Blaine offered Kurt an explanation for why he'd pushed him away so suddenly. "Let's get some air," he said.

Kurt nodded willingly and he and Blaine pulled him to the front of the club and out the front door. He waved to Jerry as they passed and Kurt called, "Hey, Jerry!"

Jerry nodded his head, shooting Blaine a knowing smile. Guilt washed through Blaine again. Jerry had seen Blaine stagger drunkenly from the Shelter many times with guys attached to his mouth, but...this was Kurt.

The cold night air had Blaine feeling the ache in groin slowly alleviate, but it did nothing for the ache in his chest.

"God, I love New York City!" Kurt screamed suddenly at the top of his lungs. Kurt spun around, twirling his arms. Despite himself, Blaine laughed and caught Kurt before he spun into traffic.

Blaine tried to keep a hold on Kurt so he couldn't stumble away and simultaneously hail a cab. Kurt began singing quite loudly.

Start spreading the news
I am leaving today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

A few of the people waiting in line for the club were laughing and cheering at Kurt's impromptu performance. A cab stopped in front of the curb, and a thankful Blaine wrenched open the door quickly.

"Come on, Sinatra. Into the cab you go." He grabbed Kurt around his waist and pulled him toward the open door.

"We're leaving?" Kurt asked, tone full of disappointment.

"I'm afraid so," Blaine replied, chuckling. He put his hand on the top of Kurt's head to make sure he didn't bump it as he climbed into the backseat.

"Well, where are we going?" Kurt pouted.

Blaine climbed in after him, closing the door behind himself. Where are we going? Blaine thought. Taking Kurt home would mean going all the way out to Brooklyn and then coming back to Manhattan. It would also mean busting in on Rachel with a very drunk Kurt at – Blaine checked his watch – three AM.

Blaine made a quick decision and gave the cab driver his own address. Kurt had clothes at his apartment and he could just give Kurt his bed and he'd sleep on the couch.

"We're going to your apartment?" Kurt flopped down on the seat with his head in Blaine's lap.

Blaine caught a glimpse of the cab driver's eyes widen comically in the rearview mirror and laughed. "Yep," he replied. "We're going to have a sleepover."

"Can we do each other's hair and have a pillow fight and talk about boys?" Kurt said, giggling. "That's what Rachel, Mercedes, and I always did at our sleepovers."

"Sure, Kurt, whatever you want." Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair adoringly, something he knew Kurt would never allow if he weren't so plastered.

Kurt closed his eyes and hummed softly. "Blaine?"

"Yes?" Blaine was suddenly worried Kurt would bring up or say something personal. Blaine had pretty much reached his limit on what he could handle for the day.

"Will you sing for me?"

Feeling relieved, Blaine began to softly sing the first thing that came to his mind.

I want to wake up in that city
That doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap

Blaine couldn't remember the rest of the words. He wracked his mind and finally one other verse stood out to him. He sang it softly to Kurt even though he wasn't sure he was still even awake.

My little town blues
They are melting away
I gonna make a brand new start of it
In old New York

Kurt rolled over and groaned into his pillow. He felt like someone was jackhammering into his skull. His stomach rolled and thought his was going to throw up all over his bed.

He thought he might have a stomach virus. He peeked open one of his eyes and judged by the light that it was relatively early in the morning. He cursed his stupid body for never letting him sleep past eight AM.

He closed his eye and tried to will himself back to sleep when his brain finally processed that he wasn't in his own bed. His eyes shot open and he looked around, immediately recognizing Blaine's room.

Memories from the night before came flooding into his mind. Going to the club, the burly bouncer, drinking, drinking, and drinking some more, and, oh god. Dancing. He had danced with Blaine like he was in a freaking Jay Z video. Heat flooded his cheeks and he groaned aloud again.

Kurt felt movement on his left and he immediately shot into a sitting position. His blood ran cold. He could see dark curls and Blaine's naked back. For some reason he thought he'd been alone in Blaine's bed. His mind reeled as he tried to think of the last thing he remembered from the night before.

Leaving the club, singing "New York, New York" loudly and off-key, getting into the cab with Blaine, and then...nothing. Complete blackness until waking up moments before.

He lifted the covers gently and took stock of his clothing – a dark blue Dalton Academy t-shirt and pajama pants that came just above his ankles.

Kurt had no idea what to think. He was in Blaine's apartment, in Blaine's bed, wearing Blaine's clothes. He knew Blaine would never intentionally... but they had both been drinking, and Kurt drank so much.

He took survey of himself, his body, but nothing felt different. Of course, he wouldn't really unless they had done, well, everything.

Kurt thought he might hyperventilate. He got out of bed as quickly as possible, nearly ran across Blaine's room to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.

Leaning on the counter, Kurt stared at his wide-eyed reflection. His heart was hammering in his chest as he absently took note of his disheveled appearance and blood-shot eyes.

He couldn't have slept with Blaine last night, he just couldn't have. Blaine was already one of Kurt's best friends in the whole world, a very close second to Rachel and more than even Mercedes and Tina, who he hadn't see in forever.

And after everything Kurt told Blaine the night before...

They couldn't have messed all that up with one stupid drunken night. Kurt was furious with himself. He knew there was a reason he didn't drink. He'd only ever had negative experiences with it. He clenched his eyes shut, willing the ache in his chest to go away.

A soft knock on the door made him start. "Kurt?" he heard Blaine ask softly through the door.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Kurt croaked out, "Yeah?"

"Do you – are you feeling sick? Is there anything I can get you?" Blaine's voice was rough with sleep. Kurt thought that he must have woken him when he slammed the door.

Kurt didn't know how to answer. Yes, he felt sick, but not for the reasons Blaine thought.

"No, I'm fine," Kurt finally answered thickly.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go make us some coffee. Just...let me know if you need anything." Kurt tried desperately to find any hidden meaning behind Blaine's words, but he couldn't. Blaine sounded concerned, but not guilty. Of course, it was possible that Blaine didn't remember what they had done.

If they had done anything, Kurt reminded himself.

A darker, more cynical voice in Kurt's head whispered that perhaps Blaine did know and still wouldn't feel guilty at making Kurt just another notch in his belt, but he buried it quickly. Blaine would never treat him like that.

Kurt's mind went back to a night weeks ago, a memory of Rachel. "He would be different with you. He would never..." He found comfort in the thought. For once, Rachel was right. Blaine cared about Kurt, he knew that much.

Still, as Kurt turned around abruptly and twisted the knobs in Blaine's shower, that dark little voice plagued him, niggling away at his certainty it was riddled with doubt.

I'm such a fucking idiot, Kurt thought.

Blaine turned, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand, to see Kurt emerge from his bedroom, fully dressed and freshly showered.

"Perfect timing," he said with a smile, holding Kurt's cup out for him.

"Thanks," Kurt replied softly, crossing to the kitchen to accept the proffered mug.

Blaine watched as Kurt took a sip and seemed to somewhat visibly relax. "So, last night was fun, huh?" He offered Kurt a teasing grin, but Kurt immediately widened his eyes. Blaine could see absolute panic in his friend's eyes. "What's the matter?" he asked quickly.

Blaine furrowed his brow as he watched a blush creep up along Kurt's cheeks. Was Kurt embarrassed by how he'd acted the night before? He seemed like he was enjoying himself, but maybe he regretted the night out now, looking back on it.

"I just – I – Um..." Kurt stammered. "Did..." Kurt stared deeply into his cup of coffee like it held all the answers to the universe. "Did anything happen last night?" Kurt finally spat out after a second. Kurt had spoken so quickly that it took Blaine's brain a second to catch up to his words.

His mind went straight to the dancing. His hands on Kurt, Kurt pressed against him, wanting to press his mouth against Kurt's skin. Was that what Kurt was referring too, or was it something...more? Exactly how much did Kurt remember from the night before?

"What do you mean, exactly?" Blaine finally asked.

Kurt's eyes shot up to Blaine's for a quick second before returning to his drink. Kurt's face turned even more red, a feat Blaine didn't think possible. "I mean...did we" – Kurt cleared his throat – "you know."

The puzzle pieces snapped together in Blaine's mind. Obviously, Kurt didn't remember much from last night. "Kurt, are you asking if we had sex?" The look of pure misery on Kurt's face told Blaine all he needed to know. "Of course not, Kurt. Jesus. I didn't even really drink very much to make sure you stayed safe. I would never..."

Kurt's shoulders sagged as relief cleared up his stormy expression. Kurt looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Blaine didn't know what hurt more, the fact that Kurt would think so poorly of Blaine that he would take advantage of Kurt when he was in a vulnerable position or the look of pure, unadulterated relief at the confirmation that they hadn't done anything.

The latter won out, slicing through Blaine's chest like a knife. "Is the thought of sex with me that repugnant, Kurt?" he asked, hurt coloring his tone.

Kurt finally looked into Blaine's eyes. "Of course not. That's not it at all," he said quickly. "I just – I would never want anything to come between us, Blaine. You're my best friend."

Blaine softened at Kurt's reply, even as the word "friend" hit him like a physical blow. "You're mine, too," he said.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Kurt said. "I never meant to imply that you would take advantage of me. I just wasn't sure how much you drank or..." he trailed off.

"I would never hurt you, Kurt. I hope you know that."

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "I do."

"Kurt, where the hell have you been?"

Kurt started, backing into the door he'd just closed behind him. He clutched his chest to try and soothe his pounding heart. "Jesus Christ, Rachel! You scared the crap out of me!"

Rachel had crossed the room and was standing in front of Kurt, her hands on her hips and glaring. "I scared you? You were supposed to be home, oh, I don't know, sixteen hours ago. You didn't call or text me or anything! I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere! I almost called the cops!"

Looking down at the floor, Kurt crossed his arms in front of him. "Would you cut the dramatics, Rachel? Goodness. What are you, my mother?" Kurt felt really guilty. He knew if the roles were reversed, he would be beyond pissed if Rachel didn't come home and forgot to call him. They didn't do that. Ever.

"Kurt." Rachel was quickly moving from furious to deeply hurt and it was making Kurt feel even worse.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he backpedaled. "You're right. I should have called." He leaned forward and captured Rachel's smaller frame in an embrace.

Rachel sniffled softly, swallowing her emotional outburst. "What happened?" she asked, releasing him.

Kurt crossed to the kitchen and opened the fridge to inspect its offerings. "Nothing happened. I just stayed the night at Blaine's." Kurt attempted to appear casual.

"Yeah, I know. I also know you got completely wasted at a club last night. Because Blaine answers my texts unlike someone else I know." He'd checked his phone when he'd gotten out of the shower at Blaine's that morning, and he had indeed had a slew of calls and texts from Rachel that he'd been too drunk to respond to the night before.

"Hold on a second," he said, straightening. The judgmental look on Rachel's face told him all he needed to know about what Rachel thought of his night out. He decided to ignore her comment about it and hope she wouldn't press. "You just bitched me out for not letting you know where I was when Blaine told you?"

"Yeah, Kurt, because I shouldn't have to rely on someone else to tell me what's going on with my best friend."

Kurt closed the fridge door and sighed. "I know, okay? I said I was sorry. I wasn't exactly in my right state of mind last night."

"Yeah, okay, and what's up with that? You're going out to clubs and drinking now? That doesn't sound like you."

Kurt closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The coffee and Aspirin he'd had at Blaine's had made his headache recede, but Rachel's constant nattering was bringing on a repeat performance. "Going out once hardly counts as the formation of a lifestyle change, Rachel. I just wanted to see what it was all about."

Rachel was uncharacteristically slow to reply. "And?" she said in a somewhat small voice. "How was it?"

Kurt opened his eyes to really look at Rachel. He saw past the confident, worldly New York City Girl façade she was constantly projecting to the virginal, uptight girl from Lima, Ohio, that she was always trying but never quite managing to escape.

He softened as Rachel glanced at the floor and then back up at Kurt. "It was..."

Kurt thought back to the night before. Drinking so much he could certainly do without. Ditto to getting hit on by random creepers. But...the dancing. Dancing with Blaine would have made even the most terrible night a good one. Pressed up so close against him. The kind of dancing they were doing was obscene. Kurt felt his face flush unexpectedly.

"Interesting," he finally completed his thought. "It was definitely interesting. Though I do regret drinking so much." Kurt grimaced. "I swear I have never once had a positive experience with drinking alcohol."

"You overdo it," Rachel said offhand. "But, so how was sleeping over at Blaine's? Did you sleep on the couch or...?" Rachel raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"No, we both slept in the bed, but it was completely innocent. We only slept."

"Well, that's no fun," Rachel pouted. She picked up a potholder off the counter and threw it at Kurt.

Anger flashed through Kurt. He glared at Rachel and said, "Sorry to disappoint you. Next time I'll make sure to lose my virginity during a drunken one night stand. Would that be enough 'fun' for you?"

Rachel threw her hands in the air. "Kurt, would you stop attacking me? Jesus. You know I didn't mean it like that."

Rachel turned around and stomped out of the kitchen and into the living room. She flopped down on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest.

Kurt swore softly and went and sat beside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Blaine's just...kind of a sensitive subject for me right now."

"Because you care about him," Rachel said matter-of-factly. Kurt nodded. He couldn't deny that. "He cares about you, too, you know. Everybody can see it."

"I'm afraid he might," Kurt said softly. After his major freak out that morning, Kurt had decided to stop lying to himself about his and Blaine's relationship. There was obviously something there.

Rachel leaned her head on her hand. "Stop being afraid and just be with him, Kurt. He makes you so happy."

"You know why I can't do that, Rachel."

"You're so convinced he's going to hurt you. You don't think people can be better? You don't think Blaine would be better for you if you'd just give him the chance?"

"You would understand if you could just see how he is with guys," Kurt said sadly, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's been sleeping around since he was sixteen. I can't even comprehend the number of guys he's probably slept with. I'm never going to be enough for him, and I can't –" Kurt's voice broke. "I can't lose him."

"Well, what are you going to do, Kurt? How long do you think you guys can really go on like this?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't know."

Hopefully forever, he thought.