Really, really bad ones.

Kurt kept blinking, hoping his vision would become less blurred as he stumbled his way down the stairs, brandishing a rolled-up Vogue. He didn’t know what he was planning on doing with it when he apprehended the bandits, but it felt better than facing them empty-handed.

The noises continued on the other side of the front door, scrabbling and scratching and heavy breathing, and just as Kurt flicked the light switch he made out a silhouette in the frosted glass.

“Just… go… in the thing…”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He knew that voice.

There was a groan of exasperation and the figure leaned heavily against the door and dropped out of sight. Kurt yanked the door open and Blaine, having giving up on the lock and decided to sleep on the front step instead, fell flat on his back, his head landing on Kurt’s foot. He shielded his eyes from the light glaring down on him and pushed himself up with one hand. Kurt automatically bent down to help him up, but he shook him off, reaching up to drop his keys on the table. It was funny how some parts of a routine stuck in your muscles no matter what state you were in.

“No, no, go to bed, I’m gonna sleep outside. I can’t open the door.”

He started to crawl back outside, reaching blindly for the door to pull it closed behind him, but Kurt fought back a laugh and hauled him in. He lost his balance and landed in a heap on the floor, looked up at him for a second, then started cackling. He flopped onto his side on the doormat, wheezing and spluttering; Kurt gave up trying to hold it in and burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Blaine, how much did you have?”

He shifted towards Kurt, wrapping himself around his legs and rubbing his cheek on a knee.

“I don’t know. I had some beers, and some really small glasses of a thing and then some more beers and… another beer. I think I’m like… eighty per cent beer. Do I smell like beer?”

He blinked at Kurt pleadingly. Kurt plucked his feet free from Blaine’s grasp and knelt beside him, wrapping a hand around his waist. They’d stopped laughing without realising. Kurt slid a hand under Blaine’s waist, scooping him off the floor and propping him up.

“No. You smell…” like tequila, like lime wedges, like kissing… “You smell fine, Blaine. I think we better get you some water.”

Blaine slumped back against his chest, letting his head fall on Kurt’s collar bone. Every fibre of Kurt’s being wanted to stay at the foot of the stairs with this warm body resting on his, the steady rhythm of his breathing already feeling so familiar, the weight anchoring him to the spot and fitting perfectly next to him until he heard snoring. He laughed and pushed Blaine up until he fell too far forward; Kurt caught him with a firm hand on his stomach before he smacked into the floor.

Don’t think about his stomach. That stomach you’re touching. The flat, warm, toned-yet-somehow-a-little-bit-soft stomach your hand is pressed firmly against. Definitely don’t think about that one.

Blaine jolted awake and grabbed at Kurt’s arm.

“Kurt, shhhh, the baby, she’s gonna wake up-” His whisper ended up being more of a shout. Kurt gradually realised he probably wasn’t much of a drinker.

Kurt hauled Blaine to his feet only to have him collapse against him in giggles, clinging to Kurt’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Kurt held his hands up in surprise for a second but dropped them to catch Blaine as he started sliding down, unable to get a decent grip on his torso. Any further down would be a very bad idea. He awkwardly held Blaine up, ducking under his arm so he could drag him into the kitchen.

“I’ll check on her after I’ve dealt with you. I think she would understand that you need a drink-”

Blaine emitted a clumsy cheer, throwing his fists in the air.

“Yes! Drink!”

Kurt tried to shush him between laughs.

“Coffee. Water. Something to rehydrate you.”

“Can I have chocolate milk?”

“Can you promise me you won’t throw it up?”

Blaine stopped walking and straightened up. He held onto Kurt’s arm and looked straight into his eyes, taking deep breaths and going to a lot of effort to prove that he could stand pretty much by himself. He frowned in concentration, opened his mouth to explain how sober he was then thought better of it and shook his head gravely. Kurt bit his lip but couldn’t help snorting at his seriousness.

“Water it is. Why don’t you sit down;” he lowered Blaine onto the couch, “I’ll bring it over.”

Blaine kicked his shoes off and curled up into a ball in the corner of the sofa, humming to himself contentedly while Kurt ran to get him a glass. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep talking. If Eliza was going to wake up she would’ve done it by now.

“I take it you guys had fun?”

Blaine stopped humming.

“Uh… s’okay.”

“Only okay? Did something happen?” He perched on the arm of the sofa and handed Blaine a drink. “Is that why you’re so… so…”

“Fucked? I’m fucked. Fuckededy fucked.” He started laughing again, leaning his head on Kurt’s hip, then his laughter started to turn into groans. “Oh, Kuuurrrrrt, why?”

Kurt tentatively rubbed his shoulder, resisting the urge to stroke his hair out of his eyes. Blaine let his face fall onto his palm.

“Why what? What happened?”

“Why did they have to invite him? We were fine, and then he walks in in his suit all smirky and tall and acting like he owns the place, like he owns me, and then he-” Blaine let out another moan of annoyance.

“Then he what?”

Blaine rubbed a hand over his face and took a sip of water.

“Before I left, he… he said I was cheating on him.”

Kurt took his hand away instinctively.

“Oh. I didn’t think you were really-”

“We’re not! That’s the whole- how could I even, when we’re not, I mean we have –not like, you know, but you can’t, when you’re not even-”

Kurt decided not to point out the fact that Blaine wasn’t really making any sense. He knew what he meant.

“Why would he think that anyway? I mean, granted I’ve never seen you with him, but I’ve never seen you with anyone else either; who does he think you-”

Blaine pulled his feet in underneath him, shrank back into the cushions and with his head bowed, looked sheepishly up at Kurt. In that second, he didn’t look drunk or sleepy or like he was going to fall over. He looked embarrassed. The penny dropped.

“Oh. I… Oh.”

Shit. His boyfriend, or whatever he is, thinks he’s sleeping with me, and he’s had to drink himself into a stupor to try and wipe it out. The very idea must be mortifying.

“God, it’s so stupid. I mean, one look at you and he’d know there was nothing going on.”

Kurt took a sharp breath in. He knew it was the truth, but it stung. He held his tongue and let Blaine keep rambling, knowing he probably couldn’t stop him if he tried.

“-because you’re so angular and your nose is so nice and you’re so talented– I’ve seen it, you know, the stuff that wasn’t for work. I probably shouldn’t have looked but they were just there, dresses and hats and boots and it’s amazing, Kurt, you’re already so important and you’re probably gonna keep going, keep moving on and up and doing bigger and better things, and then there’s me. I’m just some idiot who looks after your kid.”

Kurt could feel his heart swelling at the thought of Blaine thinking he was talented, then shattering when he put himself down. He saw his hand had somehow made its way back onto Blaine’s shoulder without his permission and was stroking small circles onto his back.

“Blaine, what are you talking about? You’re-”

“I know; I’m boring. That’s what bugged me about the whole stupid thing; I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks, but they were all ready for this big night out, and I made myself go because I thought maybe – maybe I could be like that. I don’t mean like him; he’s an asshole, but going out to all those fancy clubs in the city, with tonnes of cool people everywhere, I thought I could be one of them, one of your people, all dressed up and interesting, but I hated it. I felt so out of place. All I could think about was coming home, cooking dinner, giving Lizzie a bath, being here with you, because that’s what makes me happy. I just like being here. I love being part of this weird little family.”

“But Blaine-”

“I just thought for one night I could be the kind of guy who deserved you. Look how it turned out. God, I’m so stupid.”

Blaine downed the water, put the empty glass on the floor and hid his face in his hands.

Kurt didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell Blaine that he was anything but boring, that if he could spend every day with him and the baby he would, that seeing the two of them together, just on the sofa or having dinner or even fully clothed in the bath always made him happy and that if anything he’d thought Blaine was way out of his league.

He wanted to pull him close and stroke his hair and tell him he liked him; he wanted to say he liked that other guy thinking they were together, he wanted them to be together, that waking up with Blaine’s arms wrapped around him was the first time he’d felt safe since the baby was born, then maybe they would kiss and smile at each other and kiss some more and then – then he’d wake up the next morning, oblivious to the whole thing.

Kurt flashed back to his freshman year of college, holding a drunken Rachel’s hair back as she threw up and cried to him about how she wasn’t good enough, how she was going to fail all of her classes, she was going to die alone and unsuccessful, and he remembered that nothing he said made any difference. Drunk people don’t listen, and their minds can’t be changed. And making out with them is rarely a good idea. He didn’t have any experience of this exact situation, but he was pretty sure it was an even worse idea when the drunk person was your live-in nanny. All he could do now was get him to bed and make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.

“Listen to me.” He heaved Blaine off the sofa and started walking him upstairs. He felt Blaine’s hand tracing lightly over his stomach through his t-shirt, occasionally pulling on the fabric when he lost his balance. He tried to keep his breathing steady. “Everything you just said is stupid, but I know you won’t believe me if I tell you that now. You’re gonna go to bed and I’m going to put a trash can next to it in case you need to throw up. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Blaine collapsed on the bed, still dressed, on top of the covers, and passed out as soon as he was horizontal. He made soft mumbling noises, and he still looked like he was frowning. Kurt crouched next to him and pushed his hair back with his thumb. He hummed out ‘Hmmm, Kurt’ under his breath, just loudly enough for him to hear. Kurt smiled.

“You’re not just some idiot, Blaine. I promise.”

He let himself watch Blaine sleep for another minute before wandering into Eliza’s room and sitting cross-legged in front of her crib. She was lying on her back, still in the lion pyjamas, eyes wide open and staring at the duck mobile over her head. It didn’t go with the room, but it was adorable. She’d had the decency to keep quiet and let them have a moment, albeit one Blaine was going to forget. Kurt reached through the bars of the crib and tickled her hand with his finger. She grasped his fingertip firmly in her fist.

“Okay, I need your opinion. He called me angular. If you think ‘angular’ means he likes me, just stare at me and look unimpressed.”

He gave her a few seconds to change her expression in case she disagreed. She stared at him. He grinned.

“You’re the best daughter a guy could ask for; did you know that?”

She yawned and he took it as a yes.

“I just wish he… Why does he think-”

She yawned again, more loudly, but it could have been a sigh of exasperation. It must be exhausting having to listen to him sometimes. He took the hint and blew her a kiss goodnight before wandering back to bed.

~

Kurt absent-mindedly kissed Eliza on the head as he turned the page of the paper. He knew it was bad to hold her constantly, that she needed to get used to being left in her highchair sometimes or she’d get too needy, but it was Sunday morning and he couldn’t think of anything better than sipping coffee and calmly flicking through the paper with a little girl in his arms and her head resting on his collarbone. He read the occasional article to her, pointing at the words on the off chance she was a child prodigy and would start reading along with him. She didn’t. He tickled under her chin and blew a raspberry on her cheek and she giggled, bubbles forming on her lips and he kissed her again.

He heard a series of thuds and groans coming down the stairs.

“I think Blaine’s awake.”

Eliza clapped. Blaine groaned again. He emerged through the doorway, rubbing his hands over his puffy, red eyes and down his pale face, pulling his skin out of recognition. There was already a thin layer of stubble dusting his jaw. He’d changed into sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, giving the illusion that he hadn’t slept in the clothes he went out in. He looked like a half-dead bag of scruff, in a sickly-but-cute, exposed hipbones sort of way.

“Ohhhh…”

Kurt swallowed a laugh.

“Sleep well?”

“Coffee first. Please. Coffee. Now.”

Kurt obliged, reaching into the cupboard for an enormous mug and starting a fresh pot. He wasn’t sure whether or not to address last night’s bizarre confession.

“So, how was last night?”

“I don’t know. There may have been tequila. I don’t even remember getting home.”

Of course he didn’t remember. He was hammered.

“Lucky you.”

Blaine’s eyes widened.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you up?”

“Don’t worry about it; I was just glad you weren’t trying to murder us.”

“Oh, God, Kurt, I’m so sorry… Did I throw up anywhere? Did I break anything? How bad was I?”

“Not to my knowledge, no, and not bad at all. You were actually kind of adorable.”

Blaine frowned. His shoulders tensed up.

“Did I… Did I say anything?”

You said I’m angular you said you like my nose you said my work is good you said you wanted to be someone who deserved me and you’re already that person and-

Kurt shrugged.

“Not much.” He wanted to kick himself. He could’ve said something and something could’ve happened but now he’d missed his chance. He’d have to keep pretending Blaine hadn’t said anything. “There was something about Sebastian, I think. You’d had a fight, hence all the drinking.”

“Sebast- wait.” Kurt could see the wheels turning in Blaine’s head, trying to connect the few flashes of the night before. “He said I- and you-”

Kurt poured him some coffee, trying not to let his hands shake as he handed it to him. Maybe he’d remember on his own. Blaine gave up on piecing it together and settled for damage limitation.

“I swear I never drink, okay? I mean, that’s why I was probably talking out of my ass. I’m- I’m really sorry for whatever I did. Please, please ignore it.”

Kurt’s heart dropped into his shoes. He plastered a smile on that he hoped would come off as breezy.

“Hey, of course. You pretty much just came in and went to bed. I swear it’s fine-”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m like that. It’s one thing for my friends from school to see me falling on my face; they’ve seen me do a lot worse, but you, you know…” He blushed. “You’re… my boss. You trust me with her,” he nodded to Eliza, “and I know that’s not easy, and I need you to know you still can. It won’t happen again.”

Kurt smiled into his coffee. He wouldn’t mind Blaine nuzzling against him again and telling him how talented he was. He could probably just about endure it.

“I know, Blaine. This doesn’t change anything. I’m not about to throw you out or hate you forever because you had too much to drink. We’re okay.”

Blaine smiled and sighed with relief.

“Good. Thanks. Sorry again.”

Blaine raised his cup to his lips, about to take a gulp, when the smell hit his nostrils. Kurt hadn’t seen anyone look that queasy since Rachel’s first trimester.

“Oh, God…”

Blaine pushed his cup back into Kurt’s hand and ran for the stairs, almost tripping over his pants. Kurt flicked some music on so he wouldn’t have to hear the sound of him vomiting.

Kurt looked at Eliza. Her arm was just hanging limply at her side, but it almost looked like it was on her hip.

“I swear I usually have much better taste than this.”