Chapter 6

They were lying on the floor in Blaine's room, comfortable on the soft rug. Both could feel the booze weakening their knees and making their heads spin. Blaine was holding the half-empty bottle of scotch between them.

'So you do this often?,' asked Kurt, his eyes drooping drowsily.

'No,' Blaine laughed. 'It's like the second time ever.'

He shifted to his side, propping his head on his hand. Kurt was lying on his back, his hands folded on his belly, his legs spread out in the opposite direction than Blaine's.

'Once, a few months ago, I got drunk to get my parents attention,' Blaine said. 'I downed like a whole bottle of gin, then I drank some bourbon, and then vodka. And then, I spent the entire evening bent over the toilet. So when my parents came home, they thought I got food poisoning.'

Kurt burst out laughing.

'I guess that wasn't the type of attention you wanted.'

'Nope.' Blaine chuckled.

Their laughter died out.

'You know, I never wanted to draw my dad's attention,' Kurt said after a moment. 'I kinda always wanted to slip by unnoticed.'

He fell silent, biting his lip. Pictures of his childhood passed through his mind. The times, when his mother was still there with him, letting him prepare tea parties and make impromptu fashion shows with either of them doing the modeling. And then his mother was gone. He could remember how his father tried and tried, but no matter how many tea parties he sat across from Kurt at, it was never the same. His father was there for him and wasn't at the same time. He just was, never trying to reach out to Kurt. He just was, lost and unprepared to being a single parent.

'Why?,' Blaine asked, studying Kurt's face, as the boy turned his eyes away. There was grief written all over his expression.

'Well, he's not… He's not exactly accepting of the way I am. As I already mentioned.' He winced, as his voice trembled.

Blaine frowned, confused.

'I thought you said you haven't come out to him.'

'I didn't. But I'm… Let's just say that there aren't many straight men with a style quite as mine.' Kurt looked at Blaine, forcing a smile. 'Of course, I didn't take my most fabulous outfits with me. I was being practical. But well, my dad particularly hates my sweaters that end at the knee.'

'I can imagine that,' Blaine said. There was something that he couldn't get off his mind for the last couple of days. He was hoping Kurt wasn't much of an angry aggressive kind of drunk. 'What about your mom? You never mentioned her,' he asked cautiously.

The look on Kurt's face changed immediately. The grief that Blaine had spotted before was now as clear as if it was written in capital letters on Kurt's forehead.

'My mom's dead.' Kurt closed his eyes.

Even though Blaine had considered it as an option, he suddenly felt a rush of shock mixed with sympathy.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

'It's fine. I got used to that,' Kurt said, trying very hard to sound sincere.

Blaine decided not to press him to continue. Whatever they had, it was perfect the way it was, and forcing Kurt to reopen wounds could damage the connection they seemed to just be establishing. In the moment of silence that followed, he realized that he had never before talked to anyone as freely and honestly as he did to Kurt.

Meanwhile, similar thoughts were crossing Kurt's mind, encouraging him to speak again.

'She died when I was eight. It was a car crash. I didn't really understand what was happening.' He paused and looked at Blaine. 'I sometimes think that she got me, and my dad just… doesn't.'

Kurt sat up, leaning his back on Blaine's bed, then grabbed the bottle out of Blaine's hand and took a gulp, wincing. The alcohol burnt in his throat.

'It's like nobody gets me,' he said quietly.

Never taking his eyes off Kurt, Blaine got up and settled next to Kurt, taking the bottle out of his hands.

'I do,' he said.

Kurt lifted his gaze at him.

'You do?'

Blaine answered with a short nod and took a sip of scotch. A thought crossed his mind and he ran his finger around the brim of the bottle's neck.

'Have you ever kissed anyone?,' he asked, his brain tipsy enough not to care about appropriateness.

Kurt threw his head backwards.

'Nope. Not even a girl,' he breathed.

'Me neither.'

Blaine set the bottle he was still holding on the floor next to him. He could feel his head spin slightly.

'Do you think we could-?,' he began, uncertain how to phrase it.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, looking straight into Blaine's eyes.

'You mean- You want to kiss me?'

Heat rushed to Blaine's cheeks, colouring them red.

'As friends, you know?' Blaine was starting to regret he hadn't bitten his tongue.

Kurt giggled.

'You mean friends with benefits lite version?,' he stuttered out, making Blaine join him in laughter.

As they stopped laughing, struggling to even their breaths out, they found their faces inches from one another, Blaine's eyes peering into Kurt's, Kurt's into Blaine's.

A moment passed with them hanging in indecision, breathing in and out together in perfect sync, their gazes joined as if glued together. Until Kurt glanced down at Blaine's lips, and before he knew it, they were on his own.

At first the kiss was tentative, barely a peck on Kurt's mouth. He kissed Blaine back, deeper and more decisively, closing his eyes. He felt Blaine's hand on his cheek and he parted his lips. Even though neither of them had any experience whatsoever, their mouths and tongues seemed to manage without their brains' cooperation.

Finally, the boys separated, panting slightly and opening their eyes.

'That was… nice,' Kurt whispered.

'Yeah. But some practice couldn't hurt.'

'But we're friends, right?,' Kurt asked, confused.

Blaine nodded, leaning one more time in Kurt's direction.

'If anything, we can blame it on the alcohol.'

And their smiling lips met again.