And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's
And not one speck will remain

Kurt is vaguely aware of a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around his torso. He's also vaguely aware of the hot breath that is tickling his neck as it exhales and the slight amount of stubble on his shoulder. And he's vaguely aware of a prominent part of his anatomy pressing into Kurt's thigh. But somehow, he doesn't care. On any normal morning he'd protest, but this morning he just inhales the very masculine scents of cologne and slight musk from sleep. He impulsively shifts closer and smiles as a soft breath tickles his hair. His eyes skirt over the form that's in his bed and he realizes it's been a very long while since he's had another man in his bed. He doesn't remember what happened the night before, but as he lifts the sheets gently and takes a peek underneath, his eyes widen at the sight of his naked body and the man's lying next to him. He winces at the revelation, berating himself for doing the one thing he vowed not to.

But he likes this. Loves this.

This man is gorgeous, there's absolutely no denying that. His warm, tanned skin is soft underneath Kurt's fingertips as he ghosts them across, his rosy lips look luscious and incredibly kissable curved in a half grin and his eyelashes are impossibly long for a man. But as Kurt knows all too well, looks can be deceiving. He seems perfect, but Kurt knows nothing beyond what he sees. His mind wanders, searching for a solution to extract himself from this situation. He doesn't have much time to dally on the enigma however, for the man beside him is shifting slightly and yawning. He grounds the heel of his palm into his eyes and opens them so slowly that at first Kurt thinks he's imagining him moving altogether to reveal a warm honey color that makes it hard for Kurt to look away. The man scans the room, his eyes coming to rest on Kurt's. His eyes widen, his triangular eyebrows raising high and mumbles something that sounds not unlike the word 'fuck'.

"Hey..." he says wearily, as if expecting something. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Kurt mumbles. He doesn't know what to say beyond the simple cordial response because nothing he says will make the situation any less complicated than it is. But he desperately wants to know if the man beside him remembers even a minute detail, so that maybe he can begin to piece together the events of the previous night. "What exactly happened last night?"

The man shrugs, hooking a finger through a loose thread on his comforter as he avoided those blue eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine," But he does know. He remembers everything, from the moment he first saw the beautiful Kurt to making love to waking up this morning in the arms of someone he's so enamored by. He knows he took advantage of the Kurt's drunk state, and he knows he's downright pathetic for not giving a damn. It's been a long time since he's felt this way about someone and he wasn't about to give up the handed opportunity to spend at least one drunken night with him, even if he has to lie his way through it.

Kurt buries his face in his hands and groans. "God, I don't remember anything except Rachel taking me to some club, but after that it's all a blur. And I don't even know your name," Kurt says, and slaps a hand to his forehead as a thought occurs to him. "Fuck, I – how much did I have to drink?" Kurt panics. He doesn't do this. He doesn't ever do this. "Did we use anything?"

Blaine leans over the bed, searching for the wrapper of the condom he knows he used. He finds it half hidden underneath the bed, torn in half in his haste to slip it on the night before. He gives the other man a reassuring smile as he hands the wrapper to him, instantly seeing the relief written over his features.

"Ah, thank God," Kurt sighs. He watches the other man as he hangs his head, his unruly curls sticking up in various directions. Kurt has to admit, he's adorable. "I, uh... I don't do this. I'm not this kind of person; I don't sleep around and I don't sleep with strangers. I don't even know you, but I can assure you that the Kurt Hummel you saw isn't me. I'm just - "

"Yeah, you said that and you keep saying that," He cuts in. His voice is quiet but steady, not shying away from Kurt. He's learned over the years that rejection is like a second nature for him from everyone; that instead of letting the words hang in the air, bracing himself for whatever reaction was bound to come, he might as well just agree and move on. But maybe, he thinks, this won't turn out the way the past encounters have because it's one thing he and Kurt have in common. "And I don't either."

"Well, that's good," Kurt says slowly. "I mean, not exactly good, because you and I are here but - well, you know what I mean," He laughs awkwardly and oh god, he's on the verge of rambling, but inside he's overwhelmingly relieved and it strikes him that if he had to have a drunken one night stand with anyone, he'd have to go with this man. It's inherently weird of him to think that he trusts him already, but a part of him just does. The man before him has such a genuine air about him with those ringlets that fall haphazardly and his dazzling smile, a kind face and dancing, read all expressions eyes. He's so damn handsome that it hurts. And Kurt almost wants to feel embarrassed and insecure. He knows he's not at all the ugly duckling he once was, but still; this man slept with him.

It remains silent for a few moments before Blaine interjects with the answer to something Kurt had mentioned earlier. "My name is Blaine, by the way."

"Blaine?" Kurt tries to suppress a laugh, but inevitably fails and it breaks the tension somewhat. "I feel like I just stepped into a John Hughes's film."

Blaine gives him a sweet smile, thoughts of the night before flooding back into his mind. He remembers having too many drinks due to Wes's constant persistency, and deciding being good wasn't good enough anymore. He remembers dancing with too many strangers that didn't interest him in the slightest, and then finding someone who did. He remembers asking his name and laughing because it sounded unlike anything he'd ever heard, and throwing himself at him without a care. He remembers what their skin on skin felt like, the desire and lust he felt as Kurt attacked him with his lips, hands and other body parts. And as he remembers, he realizes he wants to do it again because it had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. But he keeps this thought buried inside him, doesn't even want to think about scaring Kurt off, although he feels as though Kurt will run away anyways. Because he doesn't really know Kurt but he sees things about him and he's certain that Kurt just wants to forget about the night before, much to his chagrin. Because he knows a one night stand is just that - it doesn't become the happily ever after.

He wasn't going to tell Kurt Hummel anything.

And he was never going to see him again.

"I have to go," Kurt finally whispers, pulling the sheet with him to cover up his exposed body. He dresses with lightning speed and grabs what belongings he has strewn across the floor from the hazy night before. "It's Sunday and I always call my dad, every Sunday. He'll freak out if I don't."

Blaine doesn't say a word, because really, what's there to say? Please stay? I don't want you to go? I think I might actually like you and want to do this again? As much as he may want to, he knows he can't say any of that.

Because that's not how it works.

"I really have to leave now," Kurt says in a low voice, casting his blue eyes away from Blaine and he backs away toward the door. This is the awkward part of this mess, only made worse by the fact that Blaine has his sad, puppy dog eyes trained on Kurt as he watches him walk away. He sees a mixture of emotions wash over Blaine's face; rejection and sadness and disappointment and hurt. Kurt has to go now. "Goodbye, stranger."

For the second time in the span of two days, he doesn't listen to himself and does something he knows is against his better judgment.

He lets Kurt Hummel go.

And I do believe it's true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
'Cause you're the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere