Kurt ended up having to half-carry Carson out to their car after they left Santana’s linen closet, Carson clinging to him like a barnacle the entire time as he ran his fingers clumsily across the top of Kurt’s hair.

“Your hair is soft,” he murmured, as if amazed.

“I try,” said Kurt, his mind a million miles away. He was still too busy reeling from everything that had happened in the past half hour to really pay attention. He somehow managed to wrangle Carson into the front seat, which was no small accomplishment, since Carson refused to let go of him, and start to pull the seatbelt around to fasten it around him. Carson’s face kept inching closer to his own, making fastening the belt rather difficult.

“Carsey, come on. I can’t buckle you in if I can’t see what I’m doing,” said Kurt as he leaned over his twin and blindly stabbed the belt around looking for the slot.

“You…you’re gorgeous,” Cason mumbled. His hands rested on Kurt’s waist, making Kurt’s heart thump in his chest and his face flush what he was sure was a brilliant shade of scarlet. He didn’t know how to respond, considering all that had just happened, but he didn’t think Carson was listening much anyway. He finally located the slot and fastened Carson’s belt, making sure it fit securely before standing back up.

“Game was fun,” Carson continued, and then suddenly Kurt felt himself being pulled back down to Carson’s level and then…..their lips were touching again, just as they had done earlier in the closet. Carson was kissing him. And it still felt just as wonderful as it had when they were crowded among shelves full of towels and sheets, and-

Ok, that was a tongue. That was Carson’s tongue, to be exact, and it was seeking permission to enter Kurt’s mouth. Kurt granted it automatically as Carson surged forward to devour him, and the feeling of Carson’s tongue sliding against his own made Kurt’s brain short-circuit completely. He was drowning. He was sure of it. Drowning in the sea of emotions that were flowing through him as he tried to process what was happening, exactly.

He’s kissing me.

Oh god, he’s KISSING ME. AGAIN.

He’s drunk. He must still think he’s playing 7 Minutes in Heaven.

Maybe even thinks I’m Santana.

I should make him stop. I should. This is so wrong. But…

…But it feels so nice….if I just….if I let him keep on kissing me, then…

No. No, we can’t do this. Anyone could be watching. Finn could see. He could, and he could tell our parents.

“Mmmph…Ca…Carson,” Kurt mumbled against Carson’s lips. “Carson, stop.”

Carson’s lips reluctantly left his and he looked up at Kurt with hazy eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his own lips thoughtfully.

“You taste good, though,” he lamented as he let go of Kurt’s arms and flopped back against the seat. “So good.”

Kurt blushed and patted him gently on the cheek as he stood back up and checked Carson’s seatbelt one more time. “I’m sorry, Carsey. We’re not playing the game anymore. It’s done.” He closed Carson’s door and went around to the driver’s seat, sliding in and starting the engine as Carson reached one hand over and started stroking up and down Kurt’s arm through the fabric of his shirt.

“Sooooft Kurtsie,” he said with a smile, his fingers dancing across Kurt’s arm playfully. “So, so soft.”

Kurt gulped and started toward home, trying not to focus on Carson’s fingers, and especially not on what they had been about to do before stupid Santana had opened the closet door.

Carson, I swear, you are going to kill me.

After what seemed like hours, he finally pulled into the driveway of their new house and stopped the car, helping Carson out and hoping that their dad and Carole had already gone to bed, because Carson was hammered and Kurt wasn’t sure what their father’s reaction would be to that, but it probably wouldn’t be positive. Not to mention that Carson seemed to be unable to stop planting soft little kisses around Kurt’s ear, and Kurt’s face was practically burning as he half dragged, half carried him up the stairs to their bedroom.

“Come on, Carsey. Let’s get you undressed, ok?” Kurt said quietly after they entered the room and he had carefully shut the door. He gently sat Carson down on the bed and began to remove his shoes, getting no further than that before Carson was pulling away and curling up in a ball, his arms outstretched toward Kurt.

“Kuuuuurt,” he whined. “Kurtie, let me hold you.”

“You have to get dressed for bed, Carson,” Kurt whispered. “You won’t be comfortable sleeping in those clothes. You need pajamas.”

“Don’t want pajamas. Want you,” said Carson, making grabby hands in Kurt’s direction. “Please?”

“Ok, ok, just give me a minute,” said Kurt. He settled for carefully removing Carson’s hoodie and jeans, figuring he could sleep in his T-shirt and boxers. He changed into his own pajamas as quickly as possible, neatly folding his clothes and placing them on the sofa in the corner of the room. He could hang them up in the morning.

“Kuuuuurt,” Carson whined again.

“I’m coming, Carsey,” Kurt replied, pulling the covers down and settling into bed, pulling them back down over the two of them.

“Yay, I have my Kurtsie,” Carson mumbled happily, wrapping his arms around Kurt and hugging him like a child would hug a teddy bear. “Mmm, you smell nice,” he said, burying his nose in Kurt’s hair and inhaling deeply. “Like, um…um…that fruit thing…the one with the seeds.”

“Watermelon, Carson.”

“That’s it. You smell like melon water.”

Kurt smiled and settled further back into Carson’s embrace. “You’re so drunk, baby. Go to sleep, ok?”

“Mmm’kay,” said Carson. Kurt felt his twin’s lips land against his neck, right below his ear, and softly kiss the skin there, causing Kurt to shudder a little.

“I love you, Kurtsie,” Carson whispered.

“I love you, too,” Kurt replied. So much, and in ways I shouldn’t, he added silently in his head. I love you, and I hate myself for it, and I never should have gone into that closet with you, because if you remember any of it in the morning you’re probably going to hate me. And I shouldn’t be jealous of Santana if she makes you happy, but I am, and I can’t even help it, and what’s worse is I can’t even figure out where my feelings for Blaine fit into all of this. I’m such a screwed up person.

He drifted off into a restless sleep, lulled by the feel of Carson’s heavy breathing against his neck.

********

Carson slowly opened his eyes the next morning, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck as he tried to piece together the last twelve hours. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he didn’t even know where he was at first until he took in the sight of the familiar bedroom furniture and felt the comforting weight of Kurt in his arms.

Kurt.

Oh, fuck.

The events of the previous evening hit his memory like a freight train. He remembered the party and the exhilarating feeling of drinking more than he ever had in his entire life. He remembered Santana suggesting 7 Minutes In Heaven, and hoping he wouldn’t be paired with Rachel. He remembered thinking he was dreaming when he was paired with Kurt, and he remembered being crammed into the linen closet with him.

After that, the details were a little fuzzy. They had definitely kissed. Carson remembered that clearly. They had made out, actually, to be more accurate. Carson couldn’t remember who had kissed who first, but he definitely remembered that it was wonderful and it felt so good, and that there was neck kissing, and he knew he had worried about hickeys. He cast his eyes downward to Kurt’s neck and sucked in a sharp inhale of air as he noticed the small, purple blotches scattered around the delicate skin there.

Those are mine. I did that. I did that to him. God, how drunk was I? What if he was uncomfortable? And after everything that happened with Karofsky. Fuck, Carson, what is wrong with you? Even drunk you should know better. You would be on the warpath if that gel haired hobbit had done that to him.

He remembered being locked in the closet with Santana afterwards, and pushing her away when she tried to kiss him, and her acting like a mental patient on crack. And then Kurt had come back and taken him outside, and….did they kiss again in the car? Carson could have sworn they did, but he couldn’t remember if it actually happened or if it was his own wishful thinking.

Kurt stirred in his arms and turned his head to look at him. “Morning, Carsey,” he yawned.

“Morning,” said Carson, his eyes still drawn to the bruises on Kurt’s neck.

“How do you feel?”

“Like death,” he said, which was true. His head was throbbing in pain. “My head hurts.”

“It’s no wonder. You drank like a damn fish last night,” said Kurt, getting out of bed and disappearing into their bathroom. “You need Tylenol. I think we have some in here somewhere.”

Carson experimentally tried moving his stiff limbs and wondered what Kurt was thinking when he looked into the bathroom mirror. He had to notice those hickeys. Was he mad? Would he be uncomfortable around him now? Carson didn’t think he could handle that.

“Here we are,” said Kurt as he emerged from the bathroom and stood by Carson’s side of the bed, holding two pills and a Dixie cup full of water. “Take these, honey. They’ll help your headache, ok?”

Carson obediently swallowed the pills and took the water Kurt handed him. “Thanks,” he croaked.

Kurt smiled and patted him on the cheek. “Any time.”

“Kurt?” Carson said, taking a deep breath. “Um…last night….in that closet, um…”

Kurt’s beautiful eyes clouded over with what looked like worry. “You…you remember?”

“Well, not everything, but…we…um…we kissed, didn’t we.”

Kurt nodded slowly as he sat down beside Carson. “Yeah. I guess we did,” he said.

“You…are you upset?” asked Carson.

Kurt looked slightly surprised. “I…no. No! I’m not upset. It was just….just a game, that was all, but…I thought you might be upset a little.”

Carson shook his head. “No, of course not. I thought you might be, because…um…you know….the hickeys.”

Kurt paled slightly, but gave him a small smile. “Oh, those. No, those aren’t…they aren’t a problem, really. Nothing I can’t cover up with makeup, and it’s scarf season. And I’m…I’m not the only one with hickeys.”

“What?”

Kurt nodded and reached out a hand, gently stroking at the skin of Carson’s neck where it met his shoulder. It hurt.

“Ow,” he said, gingerly pressing his own finger into the sensitive flesh. “You did that to me?”

Kurt nodded. “Um, yeah, I….I mean, I think I did. So I guess that makes us even.”

Carson smiled and nodded. “Yeah…I guess it does.”

Kurt was silent for a moment. “This is the most awkward conversation I think we’ll ever have,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“So we’re just two twin brothers who have made out with each other on a dare. At least this will give us a head start on establishing street cred when we get to college,” said Carson.

Kurt snorted. “I can’t with you.”

“Actually, you did with me,” said Carson. “In a closet. Scandalizing all those poor, innocent towels.”

Kurt giggled. “Stop!”

Carson smiled and tentatively took Kurt’s hand. “Seriously, though, if you felt uncomfortable or weird about this, you would tell me, right?”

Kurt nodded. “Of course. You would tell me if you felt like that…wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I would. And…I…I don’t,” he said. “Not at all.”

Kurt smiled. “Good.” His eyes wandered down to Carson’s neck. “We should probably cover up our respective hickeys before Dad sees them, though. Or worse, Finn. That’s an awkward conversation I do not want to have, ever.”

********

The last few days of Kurt’s school vacation from Dalton went smoothly enough. Carson seemed to have put the closet incident behind him, and things didn’t really feel awkward between them, but Kurt was still having a hard time forgetting just how much he enjoyed what had happened. Or, for that matter, how much Carson had clearly been enjoying what had happened, even if he couldn’t remember that part (thank God). Or how crushed he had felt when Carson had taken a turn with Santana afterwards. That had hurt.

It shouldn’t have, but it had.

So Kurt was actually pretty relieved to go back to Dalton after the winter break was over. At Dalton he wouldn’t have to be around Carson all day long, and so he wouldn’t have to spend long hours sneaking glances at Carson’s lips and remembering what they had felt like on his own lips and neck.

His neck. He had covered his hickeys (and Carson’s) with concealer as best he could while their family were around, but at night he had taken to removing the makeup first before doing any of the rest of his facial routine. He liked looking at them in the mirror and lightly pressing his fingers into them, feeling the slight tender pain as he did and reminding himself that Carson had made them. Carson had marked him. Maybe not intentionally, since he was drunk out of his mind, but he had. And Kurt would be lying if he said that this didn’t turn him on just a little.

A lot, actually. It turned him on a lot.

At Dalton, he had Blaine to distract him from all of that. And Blaine was a pretty good distraction, if Kurt did say so. He was gorgeous, and nice, and charismatic, and actually played for Kurt’s team (and, most importantly, wasn’t Kurt’s brother), and Kurt was falling harder and harder for him as time went on. Kurt wished Blaine would get the hint that he liked him. Then maybe he could have an actual boyfriend and whatever this thing was with Carson could just disappear.

“Hi, Kurt! How was your break?” Blaine asked him on the day Kurt returned, leaning against the doorway of Kurt’s dorm room with that disarming smile of his in place.

“It was great,” said Kurt, a little breathless at the sight of that smile, as was usual for him.

“Do anything exciting?” asked Blaine.

Oh, just made out in a closet with my brother, who then proceeded to suck the air out of the lungs of the biggest bitch at McKinley, which kind of made me insanely jealous and sad even though it shouldn’t have, because he’s my BROTHER and has every right to make out with Santana if he wants.

“Not really,” he answered.

Blaine chuckled. “Me either. Just Christmas as usual with my family. I actually spent most of my vacation here at Dalton.”

“Oh,” said Kurt, not sure what else to say.

“So, anyway, do you want to go get coffee later?” asked Blaine. “I’ve kind of missed having you around.”

Kurt felt his cheeks flush as he gave Blaine a smile. “Yeah! Sure, that would be great!”

Blaine smiled wider and stood up straight. “Good! I’ll meet you in the common room later then?”

“Sure,” said Kurt. “I’ll text you when I’m ready.”

Blaine gave him a little wave and disappeared, leaving Kurt to sit down on his bed and wait for his cheeks to return to their normal color. Coffee with Blaine would be wonderful. Just what he needed to distract him from Closetgate.

And…he’d missed having Kurt around? What did that mean, exactly? Did it mean he liked him? If so, was the coffee kind of a date?

He unpacked quickly, suddenly just a little more excited than he had been before.

                                                       ********

With Kurt back at Dalton, Carson was back to spending most of his time being lonely and sad. School started back at McKinley, and he went through the motions, attending his classes and doing his best with his meager two-member Writers’ Club, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Visiting with Grandma didn’t help, since she’d been having more bad days than good ones lately. Home was no sanctuary, since Finn was there, often with Puck in tow, and shutting himself up in his and Kurt’s bedroom just reminded him that Kurt wasn’t around. There was literally no place for him to go where he felt at peace. The highlight of his day was the dozens of text messages he and Kurt sent back and forth to each other, and their nightly phone call before they went to sleep.

Worst of all, Carson thought, the hickeys on his neck were fading away to nothing. Pretty soon they would be gone, and nothing would remain to remind Carson of that night in the closet with Kurt. He’d developed a habit of pressing on them with his fingers to remind himself they were there, and that Kurt had made them. He hadn’t bothered with the concealer stick Kurt had left him before he’d gone back to Dalton, figuring that his hoodies would hide them well enough from anyone who might be looking that closely at him (not that anyone ever really was, except maybe Malerie and her video camera). He liked for them to remain uncovered by makeup so that he could sneak glances at them in the mirror every once in a while. They made him feel like he belonged to Kurt, somehow. It was sort of exhilarating.

But every day they grew just a little bit lighter, and he sometimes thought he would give anything for Kurt to refresh them a little. Just to make them last a little bit longer. He wasn’t ready for them to go yet. He missed Kurt that much.

The weekend couldn’t ever come fast enough. He usually celebrated his exuberant good mood on Friday mornings by screwing with Finn. Sometimes he did small, petty things like putting a teaspoon of salt into Finn’s cereal when he wasn’t looking or hiding his shoes. On one occasion, he’d replaced Finn’s shampoo with mayonnaise. It took Finn even longer than Carson expected to learn that he had to get up extremely early on Fridays and get through his routine before Carson was awake.

He practically flew out of the school doors on the first Friday of the new semester, eager to go pick up Kurt and spend two whole days catching up and generally just basking in the warm glow of having him around. Five days always felt like too long.

He drove as fast as he dared, pretty much sprinting out of the car when he reached Dalton and bounding into the school’s common room, where he usually met up with Kurt. The room was empty that day. Kurt must have been running late. Carson whipped his phone out and dashed off a quick text.

Kurtsie, where are you? I’m going to worry that Frodo has taken you to his sex dungeon if you’re not here soon. –C

He leaned against the wall in a corner of the room where a bunch of leftover holiday decorations were piled, and waited, mentally planning all the things he and Kurt could do that weekend. Kurt would want to see his friends, of course, and Carson would go with them. Maybe he could come up with some new insults to try out on Rachel. Also, it had snowed recently. Maybe Kurt would be up for another snowball fight. Carson blushed a little, remembering how their last snowball fight had turned out.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that Kurt had entered the room at first, until he was practically standing right in front of him, an odd expression on his face as he looked around the room, as if to make sure they were alone.

“Kurtsie!” Carson exclaimed, reaching his arms out for a hug. “It’s been so long! I was-“

He got no further, because all of a sudden, Kurt’s face was close to his own, and….there were lips. Touching. Kurt’s lips and his lips. It took several seconds for Carson to register that Kurt was kissing him, and by the time he realized it, Kurt was pulling away.

What the…did that…..did he….did we just kiss? Again? Why? What’s he doing? And HERE, of all places? I don’t understand, but…I kind of really want his lips back on me….and what does this mean? Is he…does he…oh god my face is so hot….

He sucked in a big breath as Kurt stepped back from him looking slight embarrassed and very, very red.

“Kurt?” Carson whispered.

Kurt cleared his throat. “Um…you…you were just standing there, right underneath it, and I…I’m really sorry, but I just couldn’t resist.”

Carson blinked, confused. “What?”

Kurt pointed up to something above Carson’s head. Carson looked up and saw a sprig of leaves tied with a red ribbon hanging out from the corner of a stack of boxes, right above where he was currently standing.

Mistletoe. He’d been standing under mistletoe. He looked around at all the holiday decorations surrounding him that had yet to be put away for the year, and realized what had happened. He’d unwittingly stood under the plant, and Kurt had been unable to stop himself.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Oh, yeah, I…that’s really funny, Kurt,” he said, forcing a smile and trying to hide his disappointment. “You make out with me once and now you’re an uncontrollable kissing machine. I see how it is.”

Kurt snorted and punched him playfully on the arm. “Shut up. You were standing under mistletoe. Someone had to take advantage of that.”

Carson ruffled Kurt’s hair, earning him a protesting squeak from his twin, and took a hold of Kurt’s bag with one hand and Kurt’s arm with the other.

“Come on, Kurtsie. Let’s go home.”

********

“Ok, I’m all for flair, but these Valentine’s Day decorations are just tacky,” said Kurt, picking up a stuffed heart pillow on which sat two stuffed red and white puppies kissing each other. He and Blaine were in line in front of the counter at the Lima Bean, having yet another coffee date (which were becoming much more frequent, much to Kurt’s delight), and the Lima Bean had recently set out their assortment of various gaudy Valentine decorations in preparation of the upcoming holiday. Kurt had never been much of a fan of Valentine’s Day (especially since he’d never actually had a Valentine before, unless he counted Carson), and even less of a fan of the decorations.

“I mean, what the hell is this supposed to be?” he continued, indicating the kissing puppies. Blaine grinned down at it.

“It’s clearly puppy love,” he said, taking the pillow out of Kurt’s hands. “It’s cute. Come on!” He handed it back to Kurt, accidentally pressing a button at the base that caused the puppies to make an obnoxious kissing sound, followed by a high-pitched, squeaky “I love you!”

“Adorable,” said Blaine.

“Ok, this creepy,” said Kurt, putting the pillow back where he had found it. “It’s a simple excuse to sell candy and greeting cards on a holiday.” Wow, I sounded just like Carson just then. He’d be so proud of me.

“Not true,” said Blaine, shaking his head. “People have been celebrating Valentine’s Day for centuries. And call me a hopeless romantic, but it’s my favorite holiday.”

It was? This was news. Kurt looked at him quizzically.

“Really?”

“I think there’s something really great about a day where you’re encouraged to just lay it all on the line and say to somebody, “I’m in love with you.” You know?” replied Blaine. Kurt couldn’t help but notice that he directed that last part right at him, and he felt his cheeks becoming rosy. He would have to work on this blushing problem of his.

“And this year, I want to do something really radical, so I need your opinion on this,” Blaine continued as they moved further up the line. He took a deep breath and Kurt focused his attention on him.

“There’s this guy that I sort of…like,” said Blaine quietly. “And I’ve only known him for a little while, but I want to tell him that I think my feelings are starting to change into something…deeper.”

Kurt felt more and more blood rushing to his face as he listened to this speech with rapt attention. Blaine was talking about him. He had to be. Normally, Kurt wouldn’t bother reading so much into something like this, but…it was the only thing that made sense. Right? He had to be talking about Kurt.

Oh god, what if he IS? What do I do? What do I say? Do I even say anything? Carson would freak out. He wouldn’t like this at ALL. And am I really ready for a relationship right now, especially with how I feel about Carson? I mean, I know I kind of wanted this, but now…now I don’t even know…Oh…Blaine is still talking. Pay attention, Kurt.

“So I have to ask,” Blaine continued, “Do you think it’s too much to sing to somebody on Valentine’s Day?”

Ok, yes. Yes, I want this.

“Not at all,” Kurt answered breathlessly, squealing inside his own brain while trying to hide his excitement at the same time.

“What can I get you?” the girl behind the counter asked Blaine as they finally reached the front of the line.

“A medium drip and a grande nonfat mocha for this guy,” he replied, indicating Kurt, “and maybe I can get him to split one of those Cupid cookies.”

“You know my coffee order?” Kurt asked incredulously.

“Of course I do,” Blaine replied, pulling money out of his wallet to hand to the cashier. “Don’t even bother, dummy,” he added as Kurt reached for his own wallet. “It’s on me.”

He knows my coffee order. He’s paying for that coffee order. I think this is a date. I’m pretty sure he wants to sing his feelings to me for Valentine’s Day. Is this real life? I’m never this lucky.

“I do believe I have a new favorite holiday,” he said quietly to the cashier once Blaine was out of earshot.

Oh, but Carson isn’t going to like this.

********

It took Kurt approximately one day to start doodling hearts that said things like “Kurt Anderson,” “Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson” and “Kurt loves Blaine” all over every blank piece of paper he came across. Maybe it was just a little bit stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Every once in a while, he wondered what Carson might say if he ever came across one of those doodles and felt a pang in his chest. He knew his twin wouldn’t like it, because he didn’t like Blaine.

He was working on one of those doodles in one of Dalton’s study rooms the next afternoon when Blaine sauntered up to him excitedly.

“Hey!” he said. “Whatcha doin’?” Kurt quickly slammed his notebook shut so that Blaine wouldn’t see the carefully drawn heart.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just, uh….daydreaming. Plotting weekend outfits.”

“Well, come on,” said Blaine. “You’re gonna want to see this. I’ve called an emergency meeting of the Warblers Council.”

“Sounds serious,” said Kurt, getting up from his chair and slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked beside Blaine.

“Let’s hope not,” Blaine replied, gripping Kurt’s shoulders and leading him toward the Warblers practice room. “I just need to ask them a tiny, little favor.”

That “tiny, little favor” turned out to be asking the Warblers to (metaphorically) help rip Kurt’s heart out and stomp on it until it was nothing but pulp. Because the guy Blaine wanted to sing to for Valentine’s Day was the junior manager at the freaking Gap. Kurt literally felt his dreams deflating like a popped balloon when he heard the words come out of Blaine’s mouth. He heard them, but he didn’t want to believe them. In fact, he was pretty confused for a moment, wondering what the hell Blaine was talking about, because Kurt didn’t work at the Gap, but then the truth sank in.

He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. Blaine didn’t like him like that. He never had. And as if that weren’t enough, Kurt was expected to help do the singing with the rest of the Warblers. He would have to stand there and watch as Blaine serenaded another guy, and he would have to pretend he was happy to do it because he had been the one to help convince the rest of the Council to help Blaine.

At least I don’t have to worry about what Carson will say, he thought miserably as he crumpled one of his doodles in his room that night and tossed it angrily into his trash can.

********

The “Gap Attack,” as Blaine had dubbed it during the Warblers Council meeting, was a complete disaster, both for Kurt and for Blaine. Not only did Kurt have to stand there and watch as Blaine serenaded his crush, Jeremiah, with the most blatantly sexual song ever written (“You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight” was not exactly subtle), but after all that, the guy outright rejected Blaine afterwards. Not that Kurt could blame him, really. Blaine did get him fired, after all. Kurt still felt bad for Blaine, though. He knew perfectly well what the bitter sting of rejection felt like, and it didn’t feel good. Blaine wasn’t quite so eager to wax poetic about how cute and adorable the Lima Bean decorations were anymore.

And then, after Kurt finally screwed up enough courage to confess to Blaine that he’d thought it was him that Blaine had wanted to sing to, Blaine had basically friend-zoned him right then and there. The only thing Kurt would be doing on Valentine’s Day would be singing with the Warblers at Breadstix.

It had been a long week. He looked forward fervently to the weekend, when he could be with Carson and forget that his life sucked.

********

Something was bothering Kurt. Carson could tell. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self when Carson arrived to pick him up from Dalton that Friday, and the hug he wrapped Carson in when he saw him in the Dalton common room was slightly tighter than normal.

“I missed you,” he murmured into Carson’s neck, his breath hot against the skin.

“Missed you too, Kurtsie,” Carson replied, hugging him back. “It’s been a long week. Finn’s been running a kissing booth, of all things, right in the middle of the hallway. I’ve had to find alternate routes to and from my classes all week to avoid vomiting. It’s been difficult.”

Kurt laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Carsey. Poor baby.”

“Yes, poor me indeed. Not to mention that I’ve missed you so much. So, how has your week been?“ Carson asked as he walked Kurt out to the car.

“It’s…it’s been good,” said Kurt quietly, clinging to Carson with one arm and kicking a rock in front of him as he walked. “Busy. You know. The usual.”

“Ok, what’s wrong?” Carson asked him. “You sound sad.”

“Nothing,” said Kurt, plastering what Carson could tell was a fake smile across his face. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Kurt, I know you better than that. Something is bugging you, and I hate to see those beautiful blue eyes looking so depressed, so out with it. It’s not…I mean, no one is messing with you again, are they? Like Karofsky did? Because if they are, when that stupid school is supposed to be all safe and shit, I will…”

“No, Carson! Really. I just…it’s been a long week. Lots of homework and stuff,” said Kurt as he entered the car and fastened his seatbelt. “I’m really fine. I would tell you if I was being bullied again. I promised I would. I’m just tired. So much….so much schoolwork.”

Carson knew he was lying (not about the bullying…Kurt really had promised him he wouldn’t ever keep a secret like that from Carson again, and Carson knew he meant it), but he decided to let it go for now. He didn’t want to spend the precious little time he had with Kurt arguing with him, and besides, he could probably coax the problem out of him eventually.

So they went about their weekend, with Kurt continuing to be quiet and moody. The only thing that seemed to cheer him up all weekend was when Carson let him style his hair and dress him in what he called “casual chic.”

“It’s just like your regular look, only a little more…stylish,” Kurt had said happily after Carson changed into the fitted button-up shirt and tight jeans his twin had handed him to wear. “See? Look in the mirror.”

Carson had, and admittedly, what he saw wasn’t horrible, but he still knew there was no way he could wear it every day, especially not combined with the pounds of product Kurt had glopped into his hair. But it was making Kurt happy, so he smiled and nodded.

“And those pants kind of make your ass look awesome,” Kurt had added with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows. Carson had made a thoroughly undignified noise as he choked on air.

“Thanks,” he had said as he ducked his head away from the mirror so Kurt couldn’t see his flaming face.

“You’re going right back to your hoodies , aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Thought so.”

Other than that, Kurt was pretty sad-looking all weekend. Carson lay awake for a good chunk of Saturday night holding a sleeping Kurt, gently stroking his hair and wondering what could possibly be bothering him. It wasn’t bullies. He knew that much. Maybe something to do with the Warblers? Kurt had complained before about his solo situation at Dalton being basically the same as it had been at McKinley, which is to say, he never got any. Maybe he’d been turned down for another solo, Carson thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Sunday dawned cold and rainy, and Carson didn’t wake up until well after noon, still holding Kurt in his arms. Kurt was deeply asleep, and Carson hated to wake him, but he had to be back at Dalton before nighttime, and Carson knew Kurt would want plenty of time to pack up and get himself ready.

“Kurtsie,” he whispered softly, leaning his face over Kurt’s ear. “Kurtsie, wake up, baby.” He planted a soft kiss to the tip of Kurt’s ear as he spoke. Kurt stirred and grumbled, burrowing further into Carson’s embrace.

“Don’t wanna get up,” he mumbled shifting himself around and burying his face in Carson’s chest. “Wanna stay here forever.”

Carson smiled. “I wish you could, too. I’d like it. Let’s both of us stay here in bed for the rest of our lives.”

“Can’t, though,” Kurt said, his voice muffled by Carson’s shirt. “Got school.”

“Ugh, yes. School,” said Carson. “I have to go to the torture chamber known as McKinley tomorrow, and you have to pack your stuff and go back to that creepy place where I’m still pretty convinced that your Stepford friend Billy has a secret sex dungeon.”

“Mmmph,” Kurt murmured. “Pleeease, don’t mention Blaine to me.”

“Why?” Carson asked, instantly alarmed. “Has he done something to you? Has he? Do I need to go over to that school and kick him in the nuts? Because-“

“Ugh, no, Carson,” said Kurt, his face still buried in Carson’s chest as one fist clutched at the loose fabric of Carson’s shirt. “I just….I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok, now you kind of have to talk about it,” said Carson. “Because I’m going to assume the worst if you don’t. Is he the reason you’ve been moping around all weekend? What’s he done to you? I have to know so that I can properly assess how much damage I need to cause to his body.”

Kurt sighed and looked up at Carson, his eyes blinking back the remnants of sleep. “You’re not going to understand.”

“Try me,” said Carson, his heart thudding in his chest. What the fuck had that hobbit done to Kurt to make him so depressed? If he put one dapper finger on him or tried to take advantage of him, I swear to god he will be EATING all that fucking hair gel he uses…

“Please, Kurt. Talk to me.”

Kurt took a deep breath and just started pouring his heart out, not even stopping for breath as he told Carson an incredible tale of Valentine decorations and coffee orders and council meetings and extremely inappropriate serenades at the Gap. Carson was horrified. What the hell kind of moron was this guy that he would pass up Kurt, who clearly liked him (even though Carson couldn’t understand why), for some guy way too old for him who wasn’t even interested?

Not that Carson would have been any happier if Blaine had been planning to serenade Kurt, but, still. Who the fuck would reject Kurt? Kurt is a perfect angel, and SOME of us would give anything for Kurt to be head over heels for them. Who the hell rejects that for some guy at the fucking Gap?

“And right now I guess he just wants to be friends,” said Kurt miserably. He had shifted so that he was laying between Carson’s legs facing away from him, his head resting against his twin’s chest. “And I feel like such an idiot for even thinking that he liked me like that, and I just….I don’t know. Am I stupid for thinking that? Should I have known he wasn’t talking about me that day in the coffee shop?”

“No,” said Carson fiercely, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s chest. “Definitely not. You are not stupid. Actually, Bobby is kind of stupid. Actually, he’s very stupid. He was being all flirty with you and he acts like it’s a big fucking surprise that you think that means he likes you? What the fuck? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and he basically just threw that opportunity away. And on top of that, he got that Gap guy fired. I mean, what the fuck? What would possess him to think showing up at this guy’s workplace and singing a song like that was in any way ok? If it was you he’d done that to, I’d be out for his blood. I kind of want to strangle him for making you so sad, but honestly, I’m also pretty relieved that it wasn’t you he was after. I would never want you with someone so fucking idiotic. You deserve so much better, Kurtsie.”

Kurt nodded before craning his neck up to look at Carson. “It hurts, though.”

“Oh, baby, I know. I know it hurts. It always hurts when the person you like doesn’t like you back,” said Carson, hugging Kurt tighter and kissing his hair. “But there’s someone out there who loves you the way you deserve, I promise.”

Like me. Right here, Kurtsie. Right here. I’ll always love you, no matter what. Nobody can ever love you the way I do, believe me. No matter how much they try.

Also, the next time I see that stupid gel-haired freak, it’s going to take all my self-control not to kick his ass for making you sad.

The next time Carson saw him turned out to be on Valentine’s Day, at Breadstix. Kurt had begged Carson (along with the entire McKinley glee club) to go to what he called a Lonely Hearts Dinner. Carson hadn’t wanted to go, but Kurt had pouted. Besides, it would be an opportunity to see Kurt before the weekend, and it was a dinner at which the Warblers were performing. Or, more specifically, Blaine performed and Kurt and the rest of the Warblers were glorified background dressing.  Carson was less than impressed, especially every time Blaine ventured out into the “audience” and stopped at various people’s tables. When he paid a visit to the small table Carson was sharing with Santana, Carson made sure to give him his best glare. He considered sticking a foot out and tripping him, but decided against it. Kurt wouldn’t like that.

Seriously, why the fuck isn’t Kurt singing lead on this thing? He’d do such a good job on it. And be less obnoxious. Also, hobbit, I’m watching you. You may say that you only want to be friends with Kurt right now, but how do I know that’s not some weird plot to get Kurt’s guard down so that you can take advantage of the fact that he likes you? I still don’t trust you at all.

When the song finally ended, Carson clapped as enthusiastically as he could, for Kurt’s sake. “Good job, Kurt!” he exclaimed, ignoring the weird look Santana gave him. Kurt hurried over to their table and threw his arms around Carson.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I know you were less than thrilled to go,” he said, emphasizing his words in Santana’s direction for some reason. Santana rolled her eyes.

“Get a room,” she said, and went off to talk to Sam, who was sitting by himself nearby.

“Anything for you, Kurtsie,” said Carson, trying his best to ignore what Santana had said. “Only for you would I subject myself to a performance by your weird little munchkin friend. By the way, I still don’t know what you see in him.”

“Oh, Carson,” said Kurt, patting him playfully on the cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could be my Valentine,” suggested Carson. “And in exchange, I totally volunteer to be yours.”

“Hmm,” said Kurt, pretending to think it over. “True. You don’t have one, I don’t have one. It’d be perfect. Know what? I’d be thrilled to be your Valentine.”

Carson grinned. “Likewise. Although I do think I’m getting the better deal here. Who wouldn’t want you for their Valentine?”

“Apparently a lot of people,” Kurt said, his eyes clouding over a little as they traveled in Blaine’s direction.

“Hey,” said Carson, gently taking his hand. “Hey, none of that, now. Remember, anyone who would reject you doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

Kurt smiled and leaned down, planting a kiss on Carson’s forehead. “Love you, Valentine.”

Carson smiled back. “Love you, too.”

********

Kurt wasn’t sure what possessed him to think attending a party at Rachel Berry’s house would be a good idea. Probably pure, morbid curiosity. After all, casually hanging out with her and Mercedes in Rachel’s room every once in a while was one thing. Rachel trying to throw an actual party with alcohol and everything was something else entirely. Kurt couldn’t wait to see what her idea of a wild teenage party consisted of. Of course, he hadn’t actually been invited, which he thought was pretty rude of Rachel, considering how friendly they’d become, but thankfully Kurt had caught a traumatizing glimpse of Finn’s browser history and had offered him a “Either I go to the party too or Carole gets a detailed list of every freaky porn site you’ve ever visited” deal.

He’d invited Blaine along, even though he was still stinging a little from the Valentine’s Day rejection. Sure, Blaine only wanted to be friends. They could totally go to Rachel’s party as friends, right? No strings. Carson had insisted on coming too, since Blaine was going.

“I don’t care if it’s a lame-ass Rachel Berry party. I still don’t trust that hobbit as far as I can throw him, and I sure as hell don’t want him around you when there’s alcohol involved,” had been Carson’s answer when Kurt had asked him why the hell he would subject himself to a Rachel party. “Besides, I only get the weekends with you anymore, so if I don’t go, then I’m missing out on time with you.”

So that was how Kurt found himself descending Rachel’s basement stairs on a Friday night, followed closely by Carson and Blaine, with Finn bringing up the rear.

“Welcome!” said Rachel brightly when they arrived, her face falling a little when she saw the three extra people with Finn. “Kurt…Carson…Blaine…I wasn’t expecting you guys,” she said tentatively.

“Kurt’s been blackmailing me ever since he saw my browser history,” Kurt heard Finn say quietly to Rachel. “He kind of insisted on coming.”

“Yeah, Trollberry, he should have been invited in the first place,” spoke up Carson. “He’s your friend, or so you claim.”

“I didn’t think he would want to come,” said Rachel.

“I’m totally off the clock right now, Rachel,” said Blaine, taking off his heavy coat. “I’m not a Warbler. I’m just Blaine. I’m not even wearing my uniform.”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Don’t think anyone asked, and we’re not blind,” he muttered under his breath.

“So, this is your dads’ Oscar room,” said Kurt brightly, changing the subject before Carson could get in any more digs at Blaine. He looked around the finished basement room, where the rest of the glee club were already situated, looking bored out of their minds.

“Yes. They transformed our ordinary basement for our famous annual Oscar parties,” Rachel replied, taking everyone’s coats.

“Is that a stage?” Blaine asked, pointing at the stage in the middle of the room.

“No, it’s a banana,” Carson mumbled. Kurt elbowed him in the ribs.

“I kind of like to give impromptu performances for our neighbors sometimes,” said Rachel.

“Oh my GOD,” Kurt heard Carson mutter. “I’m so fucking happy we’re not her neighbors.”

Once Puck had convinced Rachel to open up her dads’ liquor cabinet instead of limiting everyone to wine coolers, the party finally got underway. Kurt had decided not to drink, despite the fact that he didn’t have to drive. He thought it would be best to stay sober just in case any opportunities to impress Blaine presented themselves. Granted, Blaine was drinking, and wasn’t really even paying Kurt much attention, but still. Couldn’t hurt.

Carson, on the other hand, did exactly what he had done the last time he was at a party, which was to consume as much alcohol as he possibly could.

“Kuuuursey,” he slurred after his fourth or fifth drink, slinging one arm around Kurt. “We…we should go to parties like this, like….aaaaaall th’time. Hey…hey hob..hobbie…Hoggle…hey Hoggle!” he shouted over the music, sauntering over to Blaine and patting him on the head, where his dark curls had come loose from his hair gel. “Hey…you really do have hair! I thought…I thought it was like…like a helmet or somethin’….but no….it’s hair…I didn’t know that hob..hog…didn’t know hogwarts had hair,” he said. “That…that’d just great….I don’ like you. You’re weird.”

Blaine, who had looked at him in confusion the whole time he was talking, and had easily drunk just as much as Carson had, snapped his fingers and pointed at Carson. “Hey, did you know that Finn and Kurt are brothers?” he asked.

Carson had apparently decided that he’d had enough of that conversation, because he turned back to Kurt and threw his arms around him, draping them lazily over Kurt’s shoulders. “I love youuu, Kurrrtie,” he cooed. “I really do. And you look…look soooo good in red.”

Kurt closed his eyes and prayed that no one would suggest a game of 7 Minutes In Heaven this time.

“LET’S SPIN THE BOTTLE!” yelled Rachel right at that moment.

Shit.

********

All Carson was aware of was that he was feeling really good as everyone gathered in a circle to play Spin The Bottle. He knew on some level that he probably shouldn’t play, considering what had happened at Santana’s party, but he was too drunk to really care about the possible consequences right then. Alcohol was so awesome. Why didn’t everyone drink it, like, all the time?

“Excuuuuse me,” he said, wedging himself between Kurt and Blaine on the floor, only vaguely aware of the murderous look Kurt shot him. “Next to Kurt’s always…always MY spot, ok? Ok, hobby…hobbit…ok hobbit?” he said, waving his party cup in Blaine’s face.

Blaine patted him awkwardly on the arm. “Sorry, Kurt,” he said.

“M’not Kurt,” said Carson shaking his arm free of Blaine’s hand. “And don’t touch me.”

The game started, using one of the many empty bottles from the night, and Carson barely paid attention to who was kissing who. He didn’t really care, and he was too busy focusing on drinking the rest of the liquid in his cup without spilling it. He wasn’t really aware of much at all until he heard Kurt inhale sharply next to him. He followed Kurt’s line of sight to his other side, where Blaine and Rachel were busy kissing like their lives depended on it.

Oh. So that was why Kurt looked like he wanted to kill something.

“Eeeeew,” he said, looking on disgustedly as Blaine and Rachel continued kissing. “That’s so gross…both of you…stop it…no one wants to see….to see a troll and a hobbit kissing, ok? It’s just gross.”

“Ok, I think we’ve had enough of that,” said Kurt pointedly. Blaine and Rachel finally stopped kissing, and then it was Santana’s turn to spin.

“Gimme that damn bottle,” she said, leaning over and spinning it as hard as she could. Carson went back to his cup and tuned out, not even realizing that her spin had landed on him until she was yanking the cup out of his hand and grabbing the back of his head, crashing their lips together.

Eeeew, eeeew, no, get it off, get it off, don’t want.

“Mmmph,” he mumbled, trying to pull away. “Ok, enough!” he said, yanking his face away and inching closer to Kurt, clinging to him as if he were a life preserver. Santana shrugged and took her place in the circle again.

“Who’s next?” Rachel crowed.

“Me,” spoke up Kurt. Carson looked at him, wanting to protest but unable to find the words. He could only watch as Kurt leaned over, a determined look on his face, and spun the bottle.

And it landed right on him.

********

Oh god, why the hell did I even spin the damn bottle? thought Kurt as he watched the bottle stop spinning and point right at Carson. I’d JUST started getting over 7 Minutes In Heaven.

The night was turning out to be a complete disaster. First Rachel had kissed Blaine, and both of them looked like they’d enjoyed it way too much. Then Santana had kissed Carson, and Kurt really couldn’t tell which of those kisses he was more upset about. Blaine practically devouring Rachel’s face was upsetting and hurtful for a lot of reasons, and Santana kissing Carson just plain ignited Kurt’s jealousy fuse.

At least he pulled away fairly quickly. He was probably upset because she’s clearly with Sam at the moment. My poor baby.

And now fate wasn’t done laughing at Kurt, apparently, because he was about to kiss Carson. Again. In front of people this time. In front of Blaine. What would people think? What would Blaine think? Would he even think anything? He was pretty drunk, and making puppy eyes at Rachel at the moment, so maybe not.

“Woooo!” shouted Santana. “Hummels are gonna get their mack on for us. Kiss him, Kurt. Suck the air out of his lungs!”

Kurt glared at her. “Shut up, Satan,” he snapped. He looked around the circle. Other than Santana, who was waggling her eyebrows at them, and Finn, who looked extremely uncomfortable, almost everyone’s faces ranged from mildly interested to bored. Blaine wasn’t even paying any attention at all. He was still staring at Rachel.

“Kiiiiisss,” said Santana, chewing on the straw in her party cup.

Ok, Kurt, just do it and try to make it quick, no matter how much you enjoy it.

Kurt sighed. Before he could lose his nerve, he turned to Carson, locking eyes with him briefly. If he saw any sign of hesitation in his twin, he wasn’t going to do it. Seeing none, he closed in and pressed their lips together, kissing him softly. It was positively electric, just like it had been every time they’d done this, even the time Kurt had quickly kissed him when Carson had been accidentally standing under that mistletoe at Dalton. Kurt hadn’t been able to resist that invitation, and he’d just had to know what it felt like to kiss Carson while his twin was sober. Thrilling, it turned out.

And now here they were, kissing in front of the entire glee club, not to mention Blaine, and Kurt had kind of stopped caring about that now, because time had stood still and all he could focus on were Carson’s lips. How they were slightly chapped but still feathery soft, and how they tasted of a mixture of salt and whatever Carson had been drinking all night, but were still heavenly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that they had been kissing for just a little longer than would be considered necessary for a game like this, but he was having a really hard time caring.

And then a catcall from Santana reminded Kurt where he was, and he regretfully parted from the kiss, noting briefly that Carson’s eyes were hooded and his mouth stayed slightly parted for a few seconds before he shook his head and closed it.

“That was so hot,” he heard Brittany murmur from across the circle.

“Wanky,” said Santana. Finn shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the twins. Kurt chanced a glance at Blaine, and discovered that the curly haired boy was still exchanging looks with Rachel and hadn’t even paid any attention to what had just happened.

Small favors, I guess. Praise Finn’s magical sandwich.

“It’s Carson’s turn,” said Santana, grinning evilly. “Spin that bottle, Barbara Walters. Let’s see who you have to lock lips with next.”

Kurt glared at her again and crossed his arms. “He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, Santana,” he snapped. “You’re not in charge of this game.”

“Wait...no…gimme the bottle,” said Carson, leaning over and batting at it weakly. Kurt watched nervously as it spun, praying it wouldn’t land on Santana. I don’t think I can handle her kissing him again. And Carson would NOT want to kiss anyone else here. Maybe it will land on me. That would be best. That would spare him from having to kiss anyone he can’t stand….

The bottle stopped and pointed, to Kurt’s horror, at Blaine. He looked over at Carson, who was squinting at the bottle, too drunk to immediately register where it had landed. Oh, he’s going to hate this. I’M going to hate it. This is too screwed up.

“Fucking wanky,” said Santana. “Pucker up, Hummel number one. You have to kiss Prep Boy!” she exclaimed gleefully.

“Santana, he can’t kiss Blaine,” said Mercedes, looking nervously at Kurt.

“Huh?” spoke up Blaine, finally looking away from Rachel. “Someone say my name?”

“You have to kiss Carson, Blaine Warbler,” said Brittany. “The bottle said so.”

Blaine looked confused. “Wait, what?”

“You,” said Santana, pointing to Blaine, “and him,” she continued, pointing at Carson, “have to kiss. So kiss. I require amusement.”

Blaine shrugged and started leaning toward Carson. Carson seemed to finally register what was about to happen and stood up as if he were on fire, stumbling a little and gripping Kurt’s shoulder for balance.

“No…eeew…oh fuck no…I…no…I…I think…I think I have….the runs,” he stammered, backing away from the circle and running toward Rachel’s basement stairs, tripping over his own feet several times. He didn’t quite make it up the stairs, stopping about halfway up and just sprawling there, shaking his head.

“No…oh god, no…would rather kiss a spider…” he mumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. Poor Carson. Why do I continue to attend parties? Why do I continue to let Carson come with me to parties? Why is any of this happening at a Rachel party, of all places? I was so sure that all that would happen tonight was building a jigsaw puzzle or something.

The night wore on. Kurt managed to coax Carson down from the stairs and kept him by his side for the rest of the party, which was seemingly just fine with his twin, who clung to Kurt like his life depended on it, practically sitting in his lap.

“That…that was scary, Kuuursey,” he kept mumbling, his arms wrapped around Kurt’s neck. “Don’ let him kiss me….don’t wanna kiss a hobbit…”

“I know, Carson. It’s over,” Kurt soothed. He watched, unamused, as Blaine and Rachel got up on Rachel’s stage and starting singing a drunken rendition of Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me.” They certainly weren’t holding back on the flirtiness. Why the hell was Blaine looking at Rachel like that?

God, can this night END already?

Thankfully, the party finally started to wind down, and Kurt was only too eager to leave. He’d gathered up his coat in one hand and Carson’s arm in the other, prepared to finally go home and forget the whole horrible night, when he noticed Blaine stumbling around in the corner of the basement.

Shit, I forgot. He can’t drive back to Dalton like that. He’s too drunk.

Kurt sighed and walked over to Blaine, tapping him on the shoulder until Blaine focused and looked at him.

“I think…I think her last name is Berry because her lips taste like a berry,” he murmured happily to Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes.

“That’s nice, Blaine. Hey, come home with us for the night, ok? You can’t drive.”

Carson furrowed his brow at Kurt and shook his head. “Whaaat…no….Kur..Kurt…he can’t stay with us.”

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Carson, he has to. He can’t go home in that condition.”

Carson narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Carson!” Kurt said. “Stop, ok? He’s coming home with us and that’s that.”

By some miracle, Kurt managed to get both boys out of Rachel’s house and into the car, settling Blaine into the backseat while Carson insisted on sitting in the front.

“Front seat’s mine,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “Miiine.”

“Yes, Carson. Yours,” agreed Kurt, getting into the driver’s seat and starting for home. Thankfully, his dad and Carole seemed to have gone out for the evening, so he didn’t have to worry about parental interruptions as he led two extremely drunk boys up the stairs to his and Carson’s room.

“Ok,” said Kurt as they entered the room. “Carson and I have the bed, and Blaine, you can sleep on the…“

He cut himself off as he watched Blaine wander over to the bed and collapse on Carson’s usual side.

“…sofa,” he finished weakly, glancing over at Carson, who looked pissed.

“Kuuuuurt,” he whined. “Your hobbit is on my side of the bed. Make him leaaaaave. I wanna go to beeeeeed.”

Kurt sighed. Why me? he thought as he walked over to Blaine and gently shook his shoulders with no results. “Blaine,” he said, shaking him harder. “Blaine, get up.”

Blaine mumbled incoherently, but didn’t stir. He clearly wasn’t moving from his spot. Kurt glanced over at Carson apologetically.

“He’s passed out, Carsey,” he said gently. “I, um….I don’t think he’s going to move.”

Carson shook his head. “No, he has to. He is not sleeping with you. Fuck that.” He stalked over to Blaine and weakly grabbed at his feet, trying to yank him off the bed but only managing to remove his shoes. “Help me,” he said to Kurt. “Just….help me.”

Kurt sighed and placed himself near Blaine’s head, grasping him under the arms as Carson took hold of his legs. They barely managed to lift him an inch off the bed. Blaine was dead weight, and Carson was too drunk.

“It’s not going to work, Carson,” Kurt said, letting Blaine flop back down on the bed. Carson crossed his arms and frowned, sitting down on the sofa.

“But I don’t want him to sleep next to you,” he grumbled. “Don’t trust him. He’s all drunk and shit.”

“He’s passed out, Carson.”

“Don’t caaaaare,” Carson whined.

Kurt assessed the situation quickly. He kind of really wanted to sleep next to Blaine, even if Blaine was passed out cold, because when was he ever going to get a chance like that again? But if it was going to make Carson that uncomfortable, would it really be worth it?

“Ok, how about if you sleep on my side of the bed, and I’ll take the sofa?” Kurt asked. “I know you don’t like him, but at least this way you don’t have to worry about him being next to me. Ok?”

Carson looked like he was considering this for a minute, but shook his head. “No…no Kurt…sofa’s not comfortable,” he said. “You’ll sleep better on the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked, biting his lip. Carson nodded.

“Yeah…s’fine. But I’ll be awake the whooooole time and if…if he so much as puts a finger on you, I’mma cut it off.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and snorted. “Oh, Carsey.” He leaned down and kissed Carson’s forehead. “I’m going to change into my pajamas. Can I trust you to stay in here with Blaine alone for five minutes without shaving his head or something?”

“That,” said Carson, pointing one finger in the air, “is an excellent idea.”

“Carson.”

“Ok, ok, he’s safe with me. Go get changed.”

Kurt changed in the bathroom as quickly as he could and stepped back into the bedroom, tentatively climbing into the bed beside Blaine. It felt really weird. He’d never shared a bed with someone he had a crush on before. Well…unless you counted Carson, that is. He glanced over at his twin, who was sprawled out on the sofa, still fully dressed.

“You’re sure this is ok with you, right?” Kurt asked.

“It’s not, but you’ll be more comfortable there,” Carson mumbled. “That’s all that matters.”

Kurt nodded. “Ok. Goodnight, Carsey. I love you.”

“Love you too, Kurtsie,” said Carson. “Hands where I can see them at all times, please.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and waved his hands exaggeratedly in Carson’s direction. “They’re right here, Carson. Not touching anything but blankets. Ok?”

“Good. Goodnight, Kurtsie.”

“Goodnight.”

********

Despite his vow to stay awake the whole night watching out for shenanigans from Blaine, Carson apparently had drifted off at some point. He woke up to sun streaming through the windows, his head pounding and his back aching.

“Fuuuuuck,” he mumbled, holding his head. “I’m never drinking again.” He sensed that something wasn’t quite right, and it took him a minute to figure out that it was because he was on the sofa, fully dressed.

Right. I slept here because Kurt was sharing the bed with…oh, fuck is he still here? Carson glanced over at the bed. Kurt was gone, and there was a mop of dark, curly hair and a hand peeking out from under the covers.

Yep. He’s still here. Ugh, he’s getting his fucking germs all over my pillow. I’m going to have to do laundry later. Carson could hear Kurt moving around in their bathroom, probably making up for the moisturizing routine he hadn’t done the night before. Carson sighed and stared at the curls on what was usually his side of the bed, thinking dark thoughts. Stupid hobbit had probably passed out there on purpose just so he could sleep next to Kurt. Which would be really douchy of him, considering he had spent the entire night flirting with Rachel. Carson hadn’t been too drunk to forget that, or the crushed look on Kurt’s face as he watched them sing together.

He also clearly remembered kissing Kurt again. Apparently this was becoming a pattern. Every time he and Kurt attended a party, they ended up making out. Maybe we should go to parties more often.

“Hey, Kurt! Come give me a hand with these eggs!” he heard his dad call from downstairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” came Kurt’s voice from inside the bathroom.

“What the hell is a shirred egg? Is that the same thing as a scrambled egg?” their father continued, and Carson could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly sat up and tried not to look as hung over as he was. He hoped Blaine would stay the hell asleep so that Burt couldn’t see how hung over he probably was.

“Hey, what’s this?” asked their dad, opening the bedroom door and standing at the foot of the twins’ bed, apparently mistaking Blaine for Kurt and not even noticing that Carson was on the couch. “Today was the day you were going to teach me all about brunch!” he said.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt said, peeking his head around the corner of the open bathroom door as he rubbed some kind of cream onto his face. Blaine chose that moment to wake up with a jolt, pressing his palm to his face and letting out a huge breath.

“Where am I?” he mumbled stupidly. Carson rolled his eyes. You’re on MY side of the bed, where I’M supposed to sleep with MY brother, the guy YOU said you just wanted to be friends with, and you have effectively screwed me out of one of the only nights I ever get to be with him anymore. That’s where you are, you troll.

Burt looked taken aback and slightly shocked as he looked from Blaine to Kurt and back again, offering a “Sorry…my bad” before turning around to exit the room, finally noticing Carson as he did so. He looked extremely confused as he left, making sure to leave the door open on his way out. Kurt emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, holding a small cup of water and already dressed for the day, to Carson’s relief. He didn’t need Blaine catching a glimpse of Kurt half-undressed.

“Well, Bobby, it’s been just lovely having you here, but I think it’s high time you got going back to Dalton, wouldn’t you say?” said Carson, instantly regretting talking so much when the noise aggravated his headache. Kurt gave him a “Be nice” look and pointed Blaine in the direction of the bathroom to wash up.

“Be nice, Carson,” he whispered, once Blaine was safely out of earshot. “He’s hung over.” Carson flopped back down on the couch and held his head.

“Why should I?” he said. “He’s done nothing but reject you, make you miserable, make you help him serenade other guys, make out with one of your most annoying friends right in front of you, and to top it all, steal my side of the bed. Why are we considering his feelings, again? And I’m hung over too, you know. Hung over and I spent the night unable to sleep much because I never sleep right without you,” he whined.

Kurt smiled and shook his head. “I know, Carsey. When he’s done in there I’ll take him back to Rachel’s to get his car and then he’ll be out of your hair, I promise. In the meantime, here,” he said, handing Carson two pills that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. “These will help.” Carson swallowed the pills eagerly and accepted the water Kurt handed him afterwards.

“He better not have vomited on the bed,” Carson grumbled as he finished his water. Kurt laughed and sat down on the couch, pulling Carson into his lap.

“I don’t think he did, Carsey,” he said, running his fingers through Carson’s hair. “I’ll wash the bedding later though, ok?”

“K,” agreed Carson, wrapping his arms around his twin and burying his face in Kurt’s stomach. He heard Blaine emerge from the bathroom and he hugged Kurt tighter.

“Aaaw,” said Blaine, and Carson could just hear the douchy smile in his voice. “You guys are so close. It’s adorable.”

“Ugh, get rid of him,” begged Carson, his voice muffled against Kurt’s clothes.

Once Blaine was gone (Carson had insisted on accompanying Kurt to drop him off at his car, since he wasn’t about to give Blaine the opportunity to be alone with Kurt for any length of time if he could help it), the day improved quite a bit, although Carson was seriously considering never touching a drink again. The day-after headaches were so not worth it. He focused on making the most of the time he had left with Kurt before his twin had to go back to school the next day. They spent most of the day catching up on all the TV shows Kurt had recorded for the week, with Kurt curled up in Carson’s lap the way Carson liked. It was a rather pleasant day, actually, until Kurt took a break to go make dinner with their dad, who apparently had been doing a lot of thinking.

“Kurt, look, I need you to ask me before you have someone sleep over,” he was saying as Carson entered the kitchen and took a seat on a stool.

“We were fully clothed the entire time!” Kurt protested. “Blaine was too drunk to drive, so I let him crash here. I was being responsible.”

“You kids are drinking now?” their dad said sharply.

“Finn and I didn’t have any, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kurt retorted. His eyes caught Carson’s and he quickly shook his head. “I mean…we didn’t…none of us…we didn’t have any.” Carson felt a little warm and fuzzy inside that Kurt was trying to cover for him like that.

“No, I’m worried about you being inappropriate in my house,” said Burt.

Inappropriate? Wait, does he actually think that Kurt and the hobbit…that they…oh god.

“Inappropriate?” Carson spoke up. “Dad, that’s-“

“And if Puckerman had a sleepover with Finn, would that be inappropriate?” Kurt asked, interrupting Carson.

“That’s different,” said Burt.

Different how? Carson wondered. Kurt has a point, and besides, they weren’t even alone together.

“Because they wouldn’t have sex?” asked Kurt.

“No, I would never allow Finn to have a girl sleep over in his bed,” replied Burt.

“But would it make you uncomfortable if he did?” asked Kurt.

“Everybody hold on a second!” Carson interrupted, getting up from his stool and putting an arm around Kurt. “Dad, nothing happened between Kurt and that guy. Absolutely nothing. I was there too, you know. You know how protective I am. Do you really think I’d let anything happen? I promise you, all they did was sleep. I may not like the hobbit, but he was too drunk to drive. It was better for him to sleep here than to try driving and end up killing himself.” Which actually wouldn’t be TOO tragic, actually, but… “Kurt was just saving a life. And besides, you said nothing last year when Kurt had Brittany alone in our room. Why’s that?”

Burt looked between the two of them and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Kurt, I just want you to apologize for being inappropriate and promise me you’ll never do it again. Ok?”

“Fine,” said Kurt. “I’m sorry. I won’t have sleepovers with anyone who might be gay without asking you first.”

Carson wanted so badly to snort, but he managed to hold it in.

“Thanks for defending me,” Kurt said later as they got ready for bed (the sheets and pillowcases having been freshly laundered and erased of any essence of Blaine).

“Of course,” said Carson. “I’ll defend you to the death. Like I really want anyone thinking anything went on between you and that gel haired douchebag, or that I would let it happen while I was in the room and breathing.”

“Hey, he’s not a douchebag, Carsey,” protested Kurt, climbing into the bed. “He’s just….a little clueless, maybe.”

“He’s a clueless douchebag,” said Carson, climbing in beside him and turning out the light.

Kurt sighed. “Goodnight, Carson.”

“Goodnight.”

********

The next few days were some of the weirdest of Kurt’s entire life. It was like some kind of alien had invaded Blaine’s body. An alien that was attracted to Rachel, of all people. Kurt couldn’t understand it. He had been prepared to let the kiss and the flirting at the party slide by, since Blaine was drunk and so was Rachel, but then Rachel had asked Blaine out on a date at the beginning of the week, and Blaine had actually accepted. And, ok, maybe Kurt was a little sorry for saying what he said to Blaine about bisexuality not being real, but it was a heat of the moment thing. He was hurting. He had apologized later.

Apparently he’s just willing to date literally anyone except me, Kurt thought bitterly on the night of Blaine and Rachel’s date, laying on the bed in his dorm room and staring up at the ceiling. He pulled out his phone and dashed off a text to Carson.

They’re out on a date right now. I feel like I’m gonna die. –Kurtsie

Not that I think you should care, since Billy sucks, but if you’re that upset about it, why don’t you ask Rachel how it went? Maybe it was awful. I can’t imagine he’s any better at being romantic with a girl than he is with guys. Even if Rachel is more troll than girl. –C

Asking Rachel was a pretty good idea, Kurt thought. It was such a good idea that he drove all the way to her house, despite the late hour, to confront her right then and there when her date ended. She roped him into helping clean up the leftover party mess, which was fine with him. Whatever it took to get her to talk.

“Thanks for helping with the party cleanup,” she said as they tossed cups into garbage bags. “Especially considering that you didn’t even drink.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he replied, surprising even himself at how bitchy he sounded. Carson would have been proud.

“At 10:00?” she asked. “Are you sure you’re not here just to find out how my date with Blaine went?”

“Oh, was that tonight?” he asked, feigning surprise.

He couldn’t believe his ears as Rachel recounted the date. They had seen Love Story, dressed up as the characters, and hadn’t kissed. Kurt would have laughed out loud with relief, because that was probably one of the gayest dates he’d ever heard of, except he felt kind of sorry for Rachel that she thought this meant she had a chance with Blaine. Or that kissing him while sober would confirm it. But, whatever. If she wanted to make an idiot of herself, let her. He gleefully texted Carson as soon as he left her house, knowing that his twin would get a total kick out of this.

Judging by what they did on their date, he is COMPLETELY gay. I’m meeting her at the Lima Bean tomorrow and she’s going to kiss him sober to prove that he’s straight. I can’t even. –Kurtsie

Oh my GOD. Hey, I’ll meet you there after school. I have GOT to see this. And then you can come home with me after. –C

Hehe. Deal. -Kurtsie

********

“So you said he comes this way at 3:30?” asked Rachel nervously as she sat across from Kurt and Carson at the Lima Bean the next afternoon. Carson was having a hard time not grinning like an idiot. He was so looking forward to watching Rachel make a complete fool of herself, even if he was kind of disappointed that Blaine wasn’t straight. It would certainly make Carson’s life a hell of a lot easier if he was.

“Like clockwork,” replied Kurt. “For his post-rehearsal medium drip.”

“I just can’t wait to lay one on him,” said Rachel cheerfully, whipping out a tub of lip gloss and applying about a pound of it to her lips.

“Trollberry, I’m going to have to ask you to never use the phrase “lay one on him” ever again. It’s gross coming from you,” said Carson.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Rachel,” said Kurt. “I don’t mean to be a scold, but I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”

Oh, Kurtsie, hush. Don’t ruin this for me. I want to see her hopes and dreams get crushed.

“There’s no victory in this for me either way,” Kurt continued.

“Who cares about you, buddy? I may get a new boyfriend out of this who can keep up with me vocally and, in the future, give me vaguely Eurasian-looking children,” said Rachel. Carson wanted to slap her.

“Some friend you are, troll,” he said. “What the hell? Kurt still likes him, you ass. Santana was right. Someone should ship you off to Israel.”

“Oh, talked to Santana lately?” asked Kurt in an odd voice. Carson looked at him curiously.

“Yeah, she popped by the journalism classroom today for a few minutes and said she wanted to run a personals ad in the Muckraker. I told her I don’t run that kind of paper.”

Blaine walked into the shop right then, attracting the attention of Kurt. “There he is. Dreamy as ever,” he said.

“Ok, wish me luck!” said Rachel, getting up from her seat and walking over to Blaine. Carson rubbed his hands together in glee. He couldn’t wait for this.

“Hey, Rachel!” said Blaine cheerfully. “What’s going o-“

His words were cut off by an eager kiss from Rachel that seemed to go on forever and made Kurt look so very uncomfortable. Carson felt like throwing up.

Ugh, it’s like watching slugs fuck, he thought, looking down at his hot chocolate and trying to keep his stomach calm.

Mercifully, the kiss finally ended, and everyone waited expectantly for Blaine’s reaction.

“Huh,” he said. “Yup. I’m gay. 100% gay. Thank you so much for clearing that up for me, Rachel.”

“HA!” exclaimed Carson loudly, unable to hold in his joy over seeing Rachel humiliated in front of everyone at the Lima Bean.

“Hey, save my space in line, will you? I gotta go hit the restroom,” said Blaine, heading off and leaving Rachel standing there looking dumbfounded.

Kurt and Carson exchanged a look and got up at the same time, walking over to her. Carson was grinning. Kurt looked slightly sympathetic, which Carson couldn’t understand. He’s too nice for his own good, I swear.

“That was hard, wasn’t it?” asked Kurt.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing! I just had a relationship with a guy who turned out to be gay. That is songwriting gold!” exclaimed Rachel, grabbing Kurt’s face and planting a big kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, troll lips off my baby brother, please,” said Carson. “I don’t need you getting your gross germs all over him, ok?”

********

Carson awoke that night thinking at first that Kurt was in the middle of a nightmare. He registered a lot of movement and noise from the bundle in his arms that was Kurt, and automatically started stroking his twin’s arm, trying to calm him down.

“Shhh, Kurtsie, it’s ok, I’m-“

“Mmm, yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Kurt mumbled in his sleep, and Carson froze, fully awake now.

Oh. Oh. Not a nightmare, then.

“Gonna make you forget all about her,” he continued, and Carson noticed that Kurt’s hips were rotating as much as they could in his position, his ass brushing up against Carson’s interested dick every few seconds.

Oh, god. Oh god, this…what do I do? he thought desperately. He debated turning on the lamp to see better and decided against it. He didn’t want to take the chance of Kurt waking up. Not like this.

Kurt rolled over so that he was facing Carson, his thigh resting between Carson’s legs and pressing up against his now very interested dick. Carson bit his lip and tried his hardest not to moan.

“Mmm,” Kurt breathed, and fuck, his breath was right in Carson’s ear. “You’re not even gonna remember her name when I’m done, because you’re MINE. You’ve always been mine,” he said, rutting up against Carson, and Carson seriously thought he was going to die.

That’s Kurt. That’s Kurt’s hard dick and it’s rubbing up on me, and oh GOD, and what do I do, I can’t let him....what if he wakes up….oh my god, he feels HUGE…..

“Mine,” Kurt whispered again, humping Carson at a faster pace. “You want me, you…ah… just don’t know…she can’t have you, you’re not hers to have….over my dead body…need to make sure everyone knows you belong to me…”

He must be dreaming about Blaine, thought Carson sadly. This whole thing with Rachel must really be-

And then he felt lips on his neck. Lips. Kurt’s lips. Fuuuuck. Oh my fuck, what…

Kurt was sucking on his neck, and he was doing it earnestly. Carson felt like he was drowning, it felt so fucking good, and he decided he didn’t care if Kurt was thinking about Blaine while he did it.

God, is this what he was doing in that closet? I can’t believe I don’t remember…fuck being drunk if this happened, and he knew he was doing it to ME and not that hobbit, and I can’t even remember…oh god..

Carson was fully hard now and his erection was aching, trapped inside his clothes. He pressed his palm against it, trying to get even a little bit of friction. Kurt’s lips were on his throat now, and Kurt himself was practically on top of him, rutting up against him at a punishing pace, and Carson was having a very hard time forming thoughts beyond “Oh god” and “Don’t stop, please.” He was also extremely jealous of the guy in Kurt’s dream, wishing it was possible to travel into people’s dreams just for situations like this.

Kurt shifted then, and FUCK…that was his erection pressed up against Carson’s, and Carson’s brain short-circuited completely. He stopped trying to think. He just let it happen as Kurt moved against him, finally providing Carson with the friction he needed. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to take him long to finish. Not with Kurt’s lips on him and his hot breath against his skin, and his hands pressed up against Carson’s chest, holding him there.

“Wanted you forever,” Kurt murmured. “Love you so much, you don’t even know….” He moved against Carson twice more, and then Carson felt him twitch in his pants and come, a low moan escaping as he continued suckling on the sensitive skin of Carson’s neck. The rush of warmth against him pushed Carson over the edge, and he whined low in his throat as he reached his own release, panting and hoping that Kurt didn’t wake up, because what the fuck was he going to say? “You totally just humped me in your sleep while dreaming about your hobbit crush?”

Thankfully, Kurt settled back down into a deep sleep, still laying on top of Carson, his head lolled to the side and buried in Carson’s shoulder. Carson let him lay there for a few minutes as he caught his own breath and waited for his brain to come back online. Then he carefully rolled Kurt off of him and back onto his own side of the bed. He carefully snuck into their bathroom and cleaned himself up, wondering if he should do the same to Kurt and deciding against it. He didn’t want to risk Kurt suspecting he’d done it when he woke up.

Kurt, what are you doing to me? You’re going to kill me, baby.

********

Kurt knew, somehow, that he was dreaming, that this wasn’t really happening, but he was able to ignore it, because that was Carson on their bed. With no clothes on. Carson completely naked and HARD and waiting for him, and…

“Kurt,” said Carson, blinking at him and biting his lip. “Kurt, please.”

Kurt walked quickly over to the bed (oh, ok, he wasn’t wearing clothes either…when did that happen?), tentatively reaching out a hand and trailing a path down Carson’s chest with his finger, stopping right above his dick.

“Can I?” he asked, his fingers dancing across the smooth skin, not daring to touch where he really wanted to until Carson said he could.

“Please,” said Carson. “Please, I want you to.”

Kurt nodded and took a deep breath as he lightly stroked down the length of Carson’s erection, the skin feeling velvety smooth under his fingers. Carson inhaled sharply and Kurt smiled, stroking him a few more times before climbing up and straddling Carson’s hips, their erections pressing together deliciously.

“Mmm…you like that, don’t you?” Kurt murmured, rotating his hips in slow circles and loving the way Carson threw his head back and moaned. “Yeah, you do. I’m gonna make you forget all about her,” he said. “What did she do to you in the journalism classroom today, hmm? Bet it wasn’t as good as this,” he said, giving a sharp thrust against his twin. Carson moaned loudly.

“Kuuurt,” he groaned. “Oh, god.”

“That’s my name, baby,” said Kurt, stroking his hands across Carson’s chest and rolling a nipple experimentally between his fingers.

“KURT!”

“Mmmm,” moaned Kurt, leaning down and licking at Carson’s ear as he thrust his hips. “You’re not even gonna remember her name when I’m done, because you’re MINE. You’ve always been mine.”

“Yours. Only yours,” Carson moaned, bucking his hips up to meet Kurt’s thrusts, creating the most delicious friction against their dicks.

“Mine,” repeated Kurt, grabbing Carson’s wrists and holding them there with one hand, pinning them above his head. And then everything changed and he was thrusting into Carson roughly (when did THAT happen…wasn’t there something you were supposed to do first?...who cares…), and both of them were moaning and panting.

“You want me, you…ah… just don’t know…she can’t have you, you’re not hers to have….over my dead body…need to make sure everyone knows you belong to me…” panted Kurt, thrusting as fast as he could, his mind overtaken with the pleasure of being so dominating. He leaned his head down and attached his lips to the smooth skin of Carson’s neck, sucking and biting and licking his way across his gorgeous throat. He wanted there to be marks. He wanted people, especially fucking Santana, to SEE, and never forget who Carson belonged to. He thrust into him harder, faster, deeper, until he felt like they had melted into one person, and Carson was just taking it, his head thrown back in pleasure as he moaned variants of curse words and Kurt’s name.

“Wanted you forever,” Kurt breathed, feeling himself inching close to orgasm. “Love you so much, you don’t even know….oh, GOD, Carson!” He let out a long moan as he came, feeling fireworks exploding as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through him, making him shiver and shake until he collapsed, spent, on top of Carson. He lazily reached his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Carson’s throbbing dick, pumping him a few times until Carson gasped and came all over Kurt’s fist.

“You’re mine,” he repeated in a whisper. “Mine. Not hers.”

“Yours,” Carson repeated. “Yours, Kurtsie. I love you.”