Chapter 5:

"Kurt, you are my hero," Rachel said, dramatically on the other end of the phone on Sunday afternoon. "Honestly, I can't thank you enough for this."

"It's okay," Kurt told her falling back against the pillows on his bed.

It wasn't okay. He was as nervous as hell. He had spent the entire morning fidgeting and trying to concentrate on homework and housework, but he could not get his mind off the party.

"Kurt, are you sure you want to do this?" Mercedes, who was over at Rachel's house, asked.

"Of course," Kurt told her. "It's terrible that they would read someone's personal diary aloud for all to hear."

"But, why would they ask you?" Mercedes asked, sceptically. "And Blaine Anderson, of all people. You don't think it's some kind of.. trap?"

Kurt had already contemplated that, but every time someone was friendly to him, he automatically assumed they were setting him up. Sometimes, you just had to take that chance.

"It's nothing I can't handle," Kurt said, hoping he sounded convincing.

Kurt had never gone to a real party. The last party he had been at had been when he was 9 and some kid invited the entire class to his birthday party. There had been a clown and bouncy castle. This was going to be very different, he imagined, though with Puckerman, who knew?

"Are you sure?" Mercedes said.

Kurt took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, that feeling of dread still swimming around in the pit of his stomach. He opened his eyes and exhaled, his shoulders dropping, then spoke.

"I'm sure."

"What's the heck is Hummel doing here?" Karofsky growled next to Blaine.

Puckerman's house was dark and filled with people. Loud music thumped in Blaine's ears, the room was warm and stuffy, people shouting and laughing and talking loudly. He turned to look in the direction that Karofsky was scowling and saw Kurt lingering by the door. He was wearing a greyish vest, with a long sleeved, white shirt underneath. His pants were dark and tightly-fitted, but beyond that Blaine couldn't see much more.

"I invited him," he said, out loud.

Karofsky, Puck and Azimio turned their shell-shocked gazes on him. Blaine shrugged, trying to play unhinged.

"I thought we could have a little fun with him later."
The guys nodded and laughed and Puck high-fived him. He hoped they would forget about Kurt later. Blaine planned on getting far too drunk to remind them, anyway. If he was sober, he felt as if he would have to remind them, because they would bring it up the following day. Blaine didn't care that it was a school night, he just needed to stop being aware of everything around him just for a little while.

He sipped a can of beer for the first hour or so, as he listened to his friends chatting away. His eyes kept searching through the crowds, past the colliding bodies and through the darkness, searching out that coiffed hair and pale, pale skin. Kurt had disappeared out of Blaine's view for a long time. He wondered if he had gone home. Then he saw him.

Blaine extended his neck a little to see where Kurt was heading and it turned out he was walking upstairs. Blaine watched a moment, then waved his half-full can at his friends, signalling that he was going to get another. He stood up, a little dizzy and crossed the room, people moving out of his way. He laid the can down on a small table and began climbing the stairs, taking small, cautious steps, because even Blaine Anderson would get laughed at if he fell.

When he reached the top, he looked around. It was fairly empty, apart from a guy passed out by the bathroom door. Blaine turned the small corner and looked down the long hallway. Kurt stood there, tugging on a door handle.

"It's locked," he told him.

Kurt looked up quickly, blue eyes widening. His face relaxed when he saw it was just Blaine. Blaine walked towards him.

"That's Puck's parents' room. He locks it during parties," Blaine confirmed. Kurt gave him a small nod. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Puck stole Rachel's diary," he explained. "I'm only here to get it back."

Blaine stared at him for a long time. He felt sort of hurt and he couldn't make out why.

"Is that the only reason you came?"

Kurt paused, then nodded his head, quickly.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Do you know where it is? Rachel's diary?"

He was about to shrug, tell him it had nothing to do with him, ask him why he should help him, but he didn't. He sighed and turned around, gesturing for Kurt to follow him. He lead him to Puckerman's bedroom. He kept the key on top of the door frame. Blaine reached up onto his tippy toes and pulled the key down, before opening the door. He walked in, Kurt following and closed the door behind them. Puck's dark, little room was a mess. Clothes were every where, shoes covering the floor, his bed unmade. Blaine saw Kurt twist his face in disgust as he kicked a pair of boxers with the toe of his combat boot.

"It should be in here," Blaine said, tugging Puck's closet door open. Clothes weren't hanging up inside, but thrown on the floor, more shoes under them. "It might take you a while to find it, but this is where he keeps, like, everything."

Kurt moved forward, eyes darting around, making sure he wasn't about to stand on something disgusting. Blaine eyed him for a moment. His pants were super tight. Blaine couldn't take his eyes off of them. They left very little to the imagination and Blaine couldn't understand how Kurt managed to go through life in pants so tight. Surely it was uncomfortable, painful even.

He tore his gaze away, realising he was staring at Kurt's ass.

"Well, I'm going back downstairs," he declared. "You go on inside and find Berry's stupid diary. I'll contact you if Puck or anyone comes upstairs."
"Thanks," Kurt muttered, kicking a shoe this time.
Blaine watched him for another couple of heartbeats, his eyes going to those incredibly tight pants again. He shook his head and chuckled.

"How ironic that I'm sending you inside a closet," he said, before leaving the room.

He stood outside the door, simply breathing for what felt like a long time, then went back downstairs, taking the kitchen route to visit the refrigerator before joining his friends again.

Blaine was going to pump himself full of alcohol, because he just didn't need to be thinking about Kurt, or his parents, or anything any more. Maybe it was a bad idea, what with how sickly he was feeling lately, but he disregarded that. Right now, he just didn't want to care.

"You're such an asshole! I can't believe you would do this!" Kurt walked closer to the back door, so that he could get a better listen to what Quinn Fabray was yelling at Blaine. "How much did you even drink? I can't take you home with me now, you know! I can't bring an alcoholic into my house, my dad will freak! You're such an asshole, Blaine!"

Blaine was sighing, sounding more tired than mad.

"I'm not an alcoholic," he said, words slurring.

"You know what else?" Quinn went on. "Your dad is going to kill you when you go home in this state and you deserve it! I hope it hurts, Blaine, when he's beating you up, because you deserve it! How could you do this to me?"

Kurt widened his eyes. He wondered if that was Blaine's secret, that his dad was abusive. He pressed his back to the wall next to the door and listened carefully.

"You're no fun," Blaine told her.

"Maybe if you'd stayed fucking sober you would have seen just how fun I am when we got back to my house!"

Kurt wrinkled his nose. That was an image he did not need.

"Quinn," Blaine said, tiredly. "Quinn, you suck!"

Kurt felt the corners of his mouth tilting upwards as Quinn groaned in exasperation.

"You know what, Blaine?" she snapped. "You suck. I don't know what I'm doing with you. We've barely done a thing over the past few weeks and you've been acting really weird. Look at you! You're a mess!"

"Where are you going?" Kurt heard Blaine sighing again.

"To find a real man, because clearly you're not capable of giving me what I deserve!"
Kurt moved back into the corner and watched as Quinn stormed through the kitchen and walked back through the doorway to the living room. She was kind of scary when she was mad. She looked a bit psychotic. He waited a minute, then walked outside, to find Blaine sprawled on the grass with his back against the wall. The air was cool against his clammy skin and he felt relieved to be out of the crowds. He went closer and frowned at Blaine, who looked up and smiled, eyes half closed.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"A blast," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "She's right, you know. You sort of are a mess." Kurt smiled slightly.

Blaine shrugged a bit. The top button of his shirt was undone and his hair was a mess. His curls were coming astray and the gel wasn't helping any more.

"She doesn't understand me," he stuttered, eyes closing.

Kurt frowned again, before extending a hand. Blaine eyed it and looked up at him questioningly through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm getting you out of here before you do something dumb," Kurt explained. He shouldn't be helping Blaine Anderson, the guy that made him dread going to school every day, but he saw something in Blaine that he didn't see in the others and he figured everyone deserved a chance. Part of him wanted to hate him, but he couldn't do it.

A moment later, Blaine allowed Kurt to pull him to his feet. He slung one of Blaine's arms over his shoulder and gripped his other arm in his hands. Kurt lead him back into the house. Puck was standing by the refrigerator with his arms folded when they walked inside.

"What are you doing, Hummel?" he asked, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

"Taking him home," Kurt told him. "He's out of his mind."

"Why are you taking him home?"

"Because it looks as if I'm the only sober one here?" Kurt made it a question.
"Oh," Puck nodded. "Oh, yeah."

"Puck, this is the best party ev-ever!" Blaine yelled at Puck.

Puck, who wasn't as drunk as Blaine, but still drunk nevertheless, smiled goofily and gave Blaine a weak high five. Kurt rolled his eyes and tugged Blaine through the crowds in the living room, then out the front door. He bundled Blaine into the passenger seat of his car, clipped his seatbelt into place, then got in his own side. Blaine was humming something that Kurt couldn't quite make out.

"Are we going to Narnia?"

Kurt turned and looked at Blaine as if he had just grown three heads and a beak and ignored that. He turned away, shaking his head and started to drive. Blaine continued to hum something that probably wasn't even a real song, while Kurt tried to come up with a plan. He didn't know what to do with Blaine. He didn't want to take him home because of what Quinn had said about his dad, but he couldn't just leave him on the side of the street.

"Blaine, is there anywhere you can go?"

"I can go to the moon," Blaine said, gazing out the window and up at the opalescent moon high in the sky. His eyes were wide and filled with wonderment, the moon light reflected in them.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and decided not to ask any more questions. Clearly, alcohol caused Blaine's mind to become occupied by a five year old girl. He wondered briefly what he had gotten himself into and questioned himself as to why he was helping him out. But Kurt couldn't just leave him there, he just couldn't. He would feel guilty about it later. There was only one place Kurt could think of that he could take Blaine.

Blaine was humming and Kurt was driving and every now and then Blaine would say something senseless and Kurt would agree, whilst stifling his laughter. Finally, Kurt stopped the car.

"Wh-where are we?" Blaine asked, sounding a bit dazed.

"My house."

By the time Kurt had dragged Blaine into his room, which was situated in the basement, Blaine was more in a state of passing out than giddy enthusiasm. Kurt threw him down on his bed, feeling awkward, because he was not going to share a bed with another guy tonight, especially not Blaine Anderson. Kurt decided he would make a bed up on the small couch for himself, because Blaine had already curled himself into the pillows on his bed. He crossed the room and opened his closet, pulled a blanket and extra pillow out, then went towards the couch. He laid the blanket down and then the pillow, before pulling Rachel's small diary from the inside pocket of his vest and laying it down on his desk.

"Kurt."

Kurt swung around to find Blaine sitting up on his bed, eyes opened and searching the room.

"Blaine, go to sleep."

"My head hurts," he groaned.

Kurt sighed and went into the bathroom. He came back out, holding a glass of water and some paracetamol. He went and sat down next to Blaine. He handed him the glass and then the pills.

"Take these."

Blaine asked no questions, simply threw the pills into his open mouth, then swallowed them down with the water. Kurt stood up and took the glass from him, because he looked as if he might drop it, then walked across the room and laid it down on his desk.

"How do you walk?"

"What?" Kurt asked, as he walked back to sit down.

"In those pants," Blaine said, gaze dropping to Kurt's legs.

Kurt blushed and quickly moved to take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Used to it," he shrugged.

"But they're s-so tight," he said. "Your legs must be screaming!"

Kurt smiled at that.

"Well, I bet your hair spends most of its time screaming," Kurt teased. "You wear a lot of gel."

"I don't like my curls," Blaine pouted, sounding like a toddler.

"I like your curls better than the slick gel-do," Kurt smiled, softly, counting his blessings that Blaine probably wouldn't remember this conversation come morning.

"When I pinch them," Blaine said, leaning across and attempting to pinch the material of Kurt's jeans near his knee. Kurt jerked back a little bit at Blaine's touch. "It's like pinching air. They're so tight!"

"Right," Kurt said, standing up. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna change."

"Out of the tight pants?"

"Out of the tight pants," he affirmed. "Do you want to change?"

"No," Blaine said, lying back and curling himself into a fetal position.

Kurt rolled his eyes and went to his closet. He pulled out some pyjama pants and a t-shirt, then went into the bathroom. He changed, then went back into his room. When he walked out, Blaine was sitting with his legs crossed on Kurt's bed, reading something.

"Is that Rachel's diary?" Kurt exclaimed, rushing forward to get a closer look.

"Rachel Berry's not a good girl," Blaine said, in a sing-song voice.

Kurt resisted the urge to lean over Blaine's shoulder and read what apparently made her not a 'good girl'. Instead, he snatched the small book from Blaine's hands and closed it.

"Read it, read it, read it!" Blaine grinned, clapping his hands, like a trained seal.

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed.

"This," he held up the diary in the air. "Is Rachel's private property. It is completely wrong that either of us read this!"

"She's having sex with Finn Hudson, though," Blaine said, the bridge of his nose crinkling. Kurt widened his eyes, then stopped himself, because he wasn't about to gossip with Blaine Anderson about his friend. "Who would have sex with Finn Hudson?"

"He's her boyfriend," Kurt provided, standing up and slipping the diary into his drawer, out of Blaine's reach.

"But Finn Hudson," Blaine wrinkled his nose. "Finn Hudson used to be on the football team, then he joined glee club and turned gay."

"He's dating Rachel, Blaine, he's not gay," Kurt rolled his eyes. "And joining glee club doesn't turn you gay."

"You're gay," Blaine pointed out.

"I was gay before I joined glee club," Kurt told him. He found himself asking what he'd gotten himself into not for the first time that day.

He walked to his dresser and sat down and began his daily skin care regimen.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked, scooting over so that his legs hung over the edge of the bed. Kurt eyed him through the mirror.

"Moisturising," he apprised him.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want pores," he explained. "And it makes your skin softer."

"It does?"

Kurt nodded and wished Blaine would go to sleep, so that the night could just end and they could go back to their strained friendship, consisting of hating each other and then sort of liking each other, tomorrow.

Blaine stood up and fell over his own feet. He reached out and clutched Kurt's dresser to stop himself from falling flat on his face. Kurt smiled and watched as Blaine pulled himself to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked Blaine, who was now staring down at him, smiling like an idiot.

"C-can you make my skin soft and not have pores?"

Kurt raised a thin brow and studied Blaine, trying to make out just what this boy was all about. Didn't they say that drunkenness brought out the truth? Was this the true Blaine? A soppy, childish, adorable—

Adorable?

He shook his head and pretended he hadn't just thought that.

"Fine," Kurt stood up and pushed Blaine down into the chair by the shoulders. Blaine was grinning, his eyes half-lidded.

Kurt squeezed some of the cream into the palm of his hand and took some on his fingers. He used the side of his hand, the one that had the pool of cream in it, to push Blaine's curls back from his forehead. With the other hand, he placed small blobs of moisturiser onto various areas of Blaine's face. He then began to massage them in. Blaine's skin was already ridiculously smooth. Blaine had to have his own skin care regimen, there was no way that was natural.

Blaine's smile had faded. He was watching Kurt with an almost intense gaze, his lips together, eyes narrowed slightly. Kurt felt heat spreading up the back of his neck as he continued to smear the cream across Blaine's skin, those golden syrup eyes watching him intently. He felt his pulse speeding up when his fingers went closer to Blaine's lips. He felt Blaine's breath warm and slow against his skin, lingering there, then the cool air was sweeping back in and ridding it of the warmth.

When Kurt had finished, he pulled away, slowly, then wiped his hands with a piece of tissue paper. Blaine's hazel eyes never left his face. Kurt felt uneasy because this was Blaine Anderson and he wasn't supposed to be feeling uneasy around Blaine Anderson for those reasons.

"Um," Kurt shook his head and turned away from Blaine. "It's late and a school night, we should go to bed."

Blaine stood up then and almost fell again. Kurt moved forward and caught Blaine's arms before he could hit the floor. Blaine looked up at him and Kurt could only stare back. Blaine's arms were well-built, Kurt realised. He was a jock, after all, but Kurt hadn't expected this, because Blaine was so small. But he could feel the flex of his bicep, the muscles tight and strong against his finger tips. This was not good.

He walked Blaine over to the bed and set him down on it, then began to turn away to go to the made-up bed on the couch, but Blaine reached out and caught his arm.

"Kurt," he said in an almost whisper.

Kurt swallowed hard at the sound of his name coming from Blaine's lips in that hushed tone. He felt that familiar clenching and unclenching in the pit of his stomach, as he felt himself go semi-hard. Why in the name of all that was holy was he getting hard because of Blaine Anderson? Sure, he was pretty cute, but Blaine was a jerk most of the time and Kurt didn't like him, not like that, anyway. He gave Blaine a questioning look. Blaine simply pulled him down to sit next to him. Kurt crossed his legs, hoping to conceal what had to be a very prominent bulge. He didn't dare look down.

"Kurt, are you drunk?"

"No," he told him.

"Why not?"

"I don't like alcohol," he shrugged.

"But don't you like the feeling of getting away from everything? Just for a little while? Don't you just want everything to fuck off just for a little while?"

Kurt smiled, sadly. Blaine was drinking to forget—or to escape, he guessed.

"It'll all still be there when you sober up," he said, matter-of-factly.

"But just for a little while, it's gone, all of it, just—gone," Blaine said, dreamily. "You just get to be whoever you want to be and you don't have to care!"

"That's nice, Blaine," Kurt smiled and tried to stand up, but Blaine clutched his arm again and pushed him back into a seated position.

"Don't you think it would be nice not to care, Kurt?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "Even if it doesn't last forever, don't you want to just let loose for a bit? To just do whatever the fuck you want?"

Kurt chuckled, because Blaine looked ecstatically happy at that moment, happier than he had ever seen him and it was still a nice thing to see a good-looking boy smiling. Blaine inched closer and grinned into Kurt's face, his golden brown eyes canopied by the thick sweep of his long, full lashes.

"Do you know what you should do, Kurt?" Blaine asked.

"What?" he asked, a little breathlessly, feeling heat climbing up the back of his neck. Blaine was far too close.

Blaine's breath was warm on his skin again and Kurt really needed to stand up or he was going to end up coming in his pants, in front of and because of Blaine Anderson, thus becoming completely humiliated. But he couldn't move, not while Blaine's bright eyes were looking at him like that and not while his rose-coloured lips were so pretty in the light of the moon slipping through the blinds.

"You should kiss me until you're drunk."

Kurt froze. Had Blaine really just said that?

"I should do wha—"

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine breathed against Kurt's lips, his big eyes flicking back and forth between Kurt's lips and eyes. "Get drunk on my kisses. Take some of my drunk. Kiss me and get drunk and just—just forget the world and stuff."

Kurt couldn't think. Everything was happening far too quickly. Blaine's hot gaze was not helping matters either. He tried to breathe, tried to think, but Blaine's lips were coming closer now and he shouldn't have wanted to do this, but he did.

"Kiss me until you're drunk," Blaine repeated, in the softest, slowest whisper Kurt had ever encountered and then Blaine's lips were pressing down over his own and he lost all control and ability to think sensibly, because all that meant anything was Blaine kissing him like he needed him, like he wanted him and sometimes, all Kurt craved was for someone to want him.

Blaine was hovering over him now, his kisses more hungry, not as cautious and controlled as the first had been. They were sloppy, too, because Blaine was so drunk. His lips and tongue tasted like alcohol, that strong, bitter, tangy taste that Kurt disliked so much. But Blaine's mouth against his own wasn't unpleasant in the least. Nor were Blaine's fingers tracing lines along the hollows of his hip bones.

Kurt gasped against Blaine's lips when cold fingers slipped beneath his shirt and touched his bare skin. He could feel Blaine's heart beat against his chest, thumping just as hard and as fast as his own. As if on instinct, Kurt raised his hands to entwine his fingers in Blaine's damp curls, wanting more from him, wanting him to keep on kissing him, even though he knew it was something he most definitely should not want. Kurt started to wonder if maybe his Coke had been spiked at the party. Blaine had told him to kiss him until he was drunk. He certainly felt drunk and his actions certainly complied with the idea of being spiked.

He felt Blaine shift above him and then his hips were lowering to meet Kurt's. Kurt went still when he felt Blaine's hard on through his jeans, pressing against his thigh. He hoped to God Blaine couldn't feel his erection, though he probably could. He was so close and Kurt was so hard and all he wanted to do was tear his pants away and relieve himself.

Kurt told himself to push Blaine away, to tell him that they shouldn't—couldn't— do it and he almost did tell him that, but then Blaine's fingers skirted lower and his other hand was toying with the waistband of Kurt's pants and he lost it, lost the ability to think properly, his mind clouded, his body full of need and want and so many other things he couldn't put a name to with Blaine's mouth trailing along his jaw and then lingering by his ear like that.

"Want you," he hissed and Kurt shivered.

He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted Blaine, too, because Blaine was doing things to him, things that he couldn't explain, things he had never felt before. He gave in, then. He couldn't fight, he wanted this and it seemed as if Blaine did, too. Blaine was incredibly drunk and straight and had a girlfriend, but Kurt didn't care, he would deal with all that tomorrow. Right now, Blaine's hands were pushing his pants lower and his lips were trailing along his neck and he was making small humming sounds and beyond that, Kurt didn't know anything else, nor did he care about anything else.

He opened his eyes and the cool air hit his legs and suddenly his pants were gone. He glanced down and saw that Blaine's shirt was gone. How had he done that without him having noticed? Kurt pondered this for a short time, then Blaine was pushing his t-shirt up along his stomach and baring his chest and Kurt forgot about that. Kurt raised his arms and Blaine tugged the t-shirt off and threw it to the side. Kurt groaned as Blaine dropped down and pressed his mouth to his chest, his lips travelling aimlessly along his rib cage and up over his nipples, sending small thrills along Kurt's skin and shivers down his spine.

Kurt's fingers found their way back into Blaine's curls, tugging them gently. He threw his head back when Blaine began to move lower, his fingers hooking themselves into the waistband of Kurt's boxers. Kurt's heart was beating manically in his chest, his head dizzy. He raised his hips to give Blaine room to tug them down. In one swift movement, Kurt was entirely naked, the cool air caressing his skin.

Kurt had only ever been with one other guy like this and even at that, no one had ever seen him completely naked until now. He felt a little embarrassed when Blaine sat back on his knees to look down at him. He only stared for a couple of seconds, before moving to kneel between Kurt's knees. He placed a hand on either side of Kurt's legs. He pushed them up, bending his knees, then pushed them apart.

Blaine took his cock in his hand, carefully, fingers brushing over the head and then almost painfully, slowly along the shaft. And then his mouth had replaced his hand and Kurt lost it. His fingers clasped onto the sheets beneath him, his legs twisted and Blaine had to grab onto his ankles to keep him still. Loud moans escaped his throat, his chest rising and falling quickly, his lungs gasping for air. He remembered that his dad was home, then and would not be happy if he walked in and saw what was going down. He reached around and grabbed a pillow and pressed it to his mouth, stifling a groan. It didn't help that Blaine was humming a little as he sucked up and down on his cock.

Kurt felt himself nearing the edge, his stomach tightening a bit. He bucked his hips a little and Blaine moved back slightly. Kurt groaned at the loss of Blaine's heat, but then he moved forward again, taking him back inside his mouth and Kurt flung his head back as the orgasm hit. He screamed into the pillow as he came, shooting come into Blaine's mouth. Blaine didn't flinch, simply continued to suck as Kurt pushed his hips forward to meet Blaine's mouth, riding out the orgasm, until he couldn't move any longer.

He collapsed down on the bed and Blaine pulled his mouth off of Kurt's softening cock. He fell down, cheek resting against Kurt's abdomen, breathing hard, his breath warm on Kurt's stomach.

They stayed like that for far too long, Kurt trying to process what had just happened and failing, because Blaine had possibly fallen asleep like that. Kurt forced himself up and eased himself out from beneath Blaine. He was too tired to get up and he didn't think his legs would carry him anyway, so he pushed back the covers of his bed and climbed in. Minutes later, just as he was dozing off to sleep, he felt a weight lifting from the bed and then the sound of a zipper. He forced his eyes open just as Blaine pushed his own jeans off. Blaine wasn't hard any more, but he hadn't remembered him coming. Except, apparently, he had. Kurt stared at Blaine's cock for a moment. It was hard to see it properly in the dim light of his lamp. Kurt watched as Blaine peeled his underwear off and then wiped himself with them, before throwing them to the ground. He then walked across the room and flicked the switch on the lamp, leaving them in darkness, only the light of the moon slipping through the blinds providing any light.

Kurt closed his eyes when Blaine crossed the room and climbed into the bed next to him. He opened them again when he felt Blaine's arms snaking around his waist, his head resting on his shoulder. He closed them again when he felt Blaine's heart beating evenly against his back, small snoring sounds escaping his lips, giving him comfort. Then he fell asleep.