I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what it's like to be new

It is one of those loud and proud New York gay clubs.

It is one of those bars that doesn't inspire him to readily remember its name, even though he knows it's a cliche one, like a gay sports bar called The Tight End or the appropriately dubbed Nothing Served Straight. It is tucked inauspiciously between two stores, and the front door looks like it could lead to an average apartment building or the office of some young, struggling attorney. But inside it's a good place. The floor is scuffed, but it must have once been shiny and perfect; black and white squares that had now faded to shades of gray. The room is packed, the sounds of a song many heated, sweaty bodies are dancing to thumping from the speakers adjacent to the DJ and drinks being slid across the counter of the bar at a seconds glance. It is dim, the only lights in bright colors bouncing off the walls. But in a place like Bohemia, this club is something of a rareity, and there is something about it that made him want to stay despite having been been dragged here against his will in celebration of finally turning twenty-one and of legal drinking age.

The bartender looks like something out of an Armani ad, and maybe if he'd been as bold as he sometimes wanted to be, Kurt would have gladly sidled up to him and flirted his way into a one night stand. But this year, he was without the man he'd thought he'd been in love with and had acquired a job in the fashion industry he could have only dreamed of, vowing to avoid situations he knew would only lead him to trouble. He'd ultimately given in, asking Rachel to take him somewhere that didn't have too much character, a place that wouldn't stand out. Rachel knew the way the city was, and he was grateful she'd taken him here, because it felt right. Hidden away like this.

He's decided to step out in the most fashionable outfit he had for one night, be someone he wasn't just for tonight. Over the top and out there, in ways he had never been. The only person who knew him here was Rachel, and he liked that. He could pretend and then forget when it was all over.

Rachel appears by his side, a cold Corona in her hand. "This is for you," she says, handing it over. "Drink up."

"How did you get this?" Kurt asks, holding up the bottle curiously. He may be twenty-one but Rachel was only on the cusp, just months shy of her birthday.

"Let's just say I have a way with men," Rachel smirks and gives him a wink.

"Um, Rach... I hate to disappoint you, but these men are gay."

"I know that. It's not like I propositioned them for a date... just some alcohol," Rachel declares. "Look, Kurt, it's your birthday. Now I brought you here because I'm tired of seeing you wallow in self pity. You need a fun filled night with booze and boys and I have made it my personal mission to help you achieve that."

Kurt shakes his head, his lips touching the brim of the bottle. "Nope. What I need is to stay away from guys. They just end up letting me down and breaking my heart."

"Oh, jeez. What happened to the old Kurt? The optimistic one, the happy one, the one who believes in fairy tales and the happily ever afters. The one who'd be very glad to hear it's all you can eat after midnight."

"I didn't know they served food here," Kurt raises his eyebrows at his best friend.

"They don't," Rachel winks again, this time looking pointedly at all the men gracing the dance floor.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I refuse to take part in a sleazy, drunken night that ends with me sneaking out of some random guy's apartment the next morning with no recollection of what happened the night before. Believe me, a part of me would love the whole 'no strings attached' deal, but right now I'm just going to drink a couple of beers and relax. Nothing more."

"Still holding out for that ten, huh?" Rachel asks quietly.

Kurt turns his head to look at his best friend. His eyes are soft, and it occurs to him that what Rachel is doing isn't for the reasons he initially thinks. Rachel isn't trying to pimp him out; she's just trying to help get his life back... and not to mention his libido. He decides to fuck it all and let loose. Just for this one night, and maybe... maybe things will begin to change. He chugs the golden liquid and slams the bottle down on the wood counter, motioning for the bartender to get him a shot of something stronger in the hopes that if he's going to be making a fool of himself tonight, he's damn well not going to do it sober.

---

Rachel laughs at her best friend as he throws caution to the wind and shakes his ass out on the dance floor. She decides it's time to depart from the club and leave Kurt to discover what he may on his own. And, as far as she can tell, he's doing a pretty good job of that already. Rachel watches as her best friend dances in ways she's never seen before, but always knew he could. She smiles as she leaves a few bills with the bartender and proceeds to leave, bumping shoulders with a short, curly haired man on her way out. He flashes her a big grin, enough of one to make her knees weak. His eyes are bright and a rich golden color as he apologizes and makes his way swiftly through the enormous crowd. She doesn't know enough about him, but if only Kurt could find a man like that... she shakes her head and keeps walking.

The man keeps walking too, straight into the throng of people. He sees a gorgeous young man dancing shamelessly among them, and decides that it's his turn.

"Hi," He yells over the occupants and the music. He's never really been one to be timid when it comes to the same sex, but something about the person opposite him makes him tingle all over and become very nervous. The young man smiles reassuringly and asks his name and when he tells him, he just laughs and pulls him as close to his body as he can get him.

The music, the air and the feeling of Blaine's hands on his body are intoxicating and he feels the overwhelming attraction between them. He silently thanks Rachel for forcing him to get out and ultimately thrusting him into the Bohemian nightlife and in the arms of another man, one as gorgeous he is - two things of which he hasn't seen the likes of in a very long time. Upon instinct, he grabs the other man's hands and leads him outside, not caring for tonight that he barely knows this man, because somehow he trusts him, or that he's drunk beyond words. But words aren't needed, especially when his lips find Blaine's.

---

And somehow, they're not kissing in the cold outside the club anymore, but are making their way up the stairs to Blaine's loft, lips never leaving each other's. Kurt pulls him closer and stumbles backwards until his shoulders hit something solid and wooden.

Front door, he thinks, and then coherent thought deserts him entirely.

Blaine's lips are eager and hungry on his, and his curls are soft beneath his skin as he rakes his fingers through them, pulling his mouth more firmly against his. Their kiss increases in fervor with every minute, touches grow bolder by the second, and they stumble through the front door and to the bedroom, neither wanting to let their eager lips away from the other's for long enough to give the task the proper focus it deserves.

And as Blaine gently lowers Kurt down on the rumpled duvet with the air of a man whose had a lot of practice at this sort of thing, he's too drunk to even give a moment's thought about the next two words that roll off of his tongue: "Don't stop."

And so he doesn't.

'Cause in my head there's a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
Where they're far more suited than here