They stumbled outside, Kurt partially supporting Blaine. His mind was cloudy not only with booze but also with a post-performance buzz and the bubbling euphoria that came with being so physically close to Blaine. Their entire sides touched, Blaine leaning heavily against Kurt.

“Fuck,” Kurt muttered as they got into the parking lot. “I can’t drive.”

Blaine seemed to find this outrageously funny, guffawing loudly, his body shaking against Kurt. It was rather distracting.

Kurt pulled out his cell phone and called a cab, trying not to slur as he spoke. Blaine smiled up at him when he hung up. “That was really fun,” Blaine said.

“I know.”

“I’ve never sung in front of people before. Or done anything in front of people.”

Kurt nodded. “You were amazing, though.”

“Not as good as you.”

Kurt laughed. “No, not quite. But good for a beginner.”

“No one in there was as good as you.”

Kurt hoped Blaine couldn’t see his blush in the darkness.

The taxi arrived within a few minutes. Kurt stumbled towards it, leading Blaine. Blaine was laughing again.

“I didn’t even know there were taxis in Lima,” he told Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes, opening the car door and helping Blaine inside. He slid in next, with a bit more force than he meant to, and sort of crashed into Blaine. Trying not to giggle, he leaned forward and gave the cab driver his address.

They were seated at each end of the backseat, with the middle seat empty between them. Kurt tried to ignore the longing that he had to breach the space, intensified by the alcohol running through his blood. He thought about how easy it would be to just reach over and put his hand on Blaine’s knee. Or lean and rest his head on the boy’s shoulder. Blaine’s hair was messier than usual, truly curly now. His face was flushed, his eyes wide. Kurt could smell his sweat and cologne. It felt tortuous to be so close, and yet so far away.

The taxi pulled up to Kurt’s house and Kurt paid, then opened the door. The blast of cooler, fresh air was startling. Blaine didn’t seem particularly capable of successful conversation, so Kurt spoke for him.

“He needs to be dropped off at the OSU dorms,” he told the cabbie. He turned to Blaine then. “Do you have your wallet?”

Blaine stuck his hand into each of his pockets clumsily. He found nothing. “Um,” he said. “I think I left it in your car.”

Kurt swore, trying to think. He didn’t have much more cash on him, what with all the drinks he’d bought. “Fine, okay. Just get out with me.”

He pulled Blaine out of the cab, helping to steady him once he was outside. The taxi drove off, leaving them alone in front of the darkened house.

Kurt half-dragged Blaine up the driveway and unlocked the door. “I can’t see,” Blaine complained loudly once they were inside.

“Shh!” Kurt chastised him. He didn’t want to wake up his poor parents. He grabbed Blaine by the elbow and led him upstairs, the two of them tripping occasionally. They made it to Kurt’s room and Kurt flicked on the light. They stood still for a moment, blinking in the sudden brightness.

Blaine let go of Kurt, leaving him at the door, and walked to Kurt’s bed. He turned around and sat down heavily, bouncing slightly. He smiled. “What now?”

Kurt laughed quietly. “Now it’s bedtime.”

Blaine pursed his lips, and Kurt tried not to stare at them. “But what if I’m not tired?”

“Too bad. You’re staying with me and I say it’s time for sleeping. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Blaine still looked skeptical, but he leaned back onto the bed and spread his arms out. “Well…okay. Bed might not be so bad.”

Kurt took a moment to rake his eyes up and down Blaine’s figure laid out on his bedspread, looking very disheveled and sexy. His shirt and sweater had ridden up, exposing a sliver of golden skin above the waistband of his jeans, his hipbones peeking out, lines of skin and bone and muscle sloping down…

Kurt shook his head. Girlfriend, he thought murkily. Straight. Just friends.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Kurt offered, distracting himself. He headed to his closet, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and tossing one at Blaine. Blaine started when they hit his chest, then laughed. “That scared me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh too, though. “You’re drunk, Blaine.”

“I know,” the curly-haired boy answered, picking up the pants and examining them. “It’s nice.”

“Isn’t it?”

Blaine headed into the bathroom and Kurt changed in his absence, pulling on the sweats and finding an old shirt to wear. He knew it wasn’t his most alluring outfit, but he also knew that they were both too drunk for it to matter. He began rifling through his closet for extra pillows.

When Kurt heard the bathroom door open, he turned to see Blaine, and gulped. The boy had indeed put on Kurt’s sleep pants, which rode low on his hips and gave Kurt the same nice view he’d admired earlier…but it got better. Blaine had taken off his shirt, exposing his chest, defined stomach muscles and dusting of dark curly hair and his collarbones and shoulders and…

Kurt realized belatedly that he was staring. And probably drooling.

“Um,” Kurt stammered, trying to catch his train of thought before it had taken a lustful turn. “You, um, you can sleep in here, in the bed.”

Blaine smiled. “Good.” He crossed the room to Kurt bed, eyeing it hesitantly before pulling back the covers and beginning to slip in. Kurt swallowed, knowing that his attraction was amplified by the alcohol, and decided he needed to get out of the room soon. He finally found a pillow. He turned towards the door. “Goodnight, Blaine,” he said quickly, and reached for the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

Kurt paused, turning back to see Blaine laid out on the bed, an expression of puzzlement on his gorgeous face. “Downstairs,” Kurt said. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

The rift between Blaine’s eyebrows deepened. “Why?”

“So you can have my bed.”

Blaine bit his lip. Kurt took a deep breath. “But…” Blaine said slowly. “I don’t want you to have to sleep on the couch. I’ll sleep there.”

“No, no,” Kurt answered slowly. “I just…don’t want my parents to wake up and find a strange man sleeping on their couch before I can explain it to them.”

Blaine smiled slightly. “Are you calling me strange?”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile back. “No. You know what I mean.”

“Your parents know who I am.” Blaine pointed out. He was surprisingly logical for being smashed.

“Yeah, I know, but…” Kurt found he couldn’t really rebut that. “You’re a guest. You get the bed.”

Blaine shook his head. “No. Stay.”

“With you?”

“Yeah, there’s room.”

Kurt sighed internally. It was so tempting to turn around and join Blaine-beautiful, funny, adorable, sexy, half-naked Blaine-in his bed. But was that okay?

“Please, Kurt,” Blaine said earnestly.

And Kurt broke. He couldn’t help it. He left the door behind and approached the bed.

“That’s better,” Blaine said, smiling. Kurt smiled back nervously.

“Let me turn off the lights.”

Kurt plunged them back into darkness, leaving them blind for a few more moments. Kurt felt his way to the bed and crawled into it, letting the drunken haze he’d been holding at bay fill his mind so it would block out the voices in his head telling him all the reasons this was an awful idea.

“Hi,” Kurt heard Blaine say, close and quiet and breathy.

“Hey,” Kurt responded in turn.

“I like your bed. It’s comfy.”

“Thank you.”

Blaine’s face was slowly coming into focus, standing out against the surrounding darkness. Blaine spoke again. “I like your room, too.”

“Really?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah,” Blaine answered sincerely. “It’s so you. It’s like it says Kurt everywhere. On the walls and in the closet and on the desk and…everywhere.”

Kurt smiled giddily. “That’s silly, Blaine.”

“I don’t care. It’s true.”

They were quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” Blaine whispered. “Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t quite tell what he was talking about. “You’re welcome,” he said cluelessly.

“No,” Blaine said, and then he propped himself up on his elbow so that his face was above Kurt’s. “I mean it. Thank you for tonight, for the drinks and the singing and the duet and the taxi and everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Kurt repeated, his chest slightly constricted.

“I’ve never done stuff like that,” Blaine went on. “And I never would have if it weren’t for you.”

“Blaine, don’t say that, that’s-“

“Shh,” Blaine interrupted. “I mean it.”

Kurt blinked up at the boy. “Okay.”

Blaine settled onto his back then, seemingly content with the response. Kurt stared at his ceiling and wondered how he’d gotten himself into this twisted unrequited crush situation again.

Blaine, who seemed to become very talkative when drunk, muttered, “Kurt, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Blaine paused before speaking. “How do you know when you’re in love?”

Kurt sighed, his eyes flickering over to Blaine’s form lying only inches away from him. “I think it’s just…something you know, Blaine. A gut feeling. Once it happens, you know about it.”

“Hmm,” Blaine sounded resigned. “I was afraid of that.”

Kurt laughed softly. “Why?”

Blaine was quiet for so long that Kurt thought he hadn’t heard, or was just ignoring it. Kurt could tell he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, though. Finally, he said, “Because that means that I don’t love my girlfriend.”

“Ahh,” Kurt answered, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. He attributed this to the drinking.

“But she loves me.”

“Does she?” Kurt hadn’t even meant to say it out loud, but once he had he didn’t even care anymore. What did it matter?

“That’s what she says,” Blaine mumbled.

“People don’t always understand their feelings,” Kurt said, closing his eyes.

“You’re right,” Blaine replied. “They don’t.”

Kurt took a deep breath. Suddenly he was inexplicably exhausted. “Goodnight, Blaine.” It was the second time he’d said it that night, but this time it seemed to carry more weight.

“Goodnight, Kurt. Sweet dreams.”

Kurt smiled slightly. How could he not have sweet dreams, with a beautiful boy lying next to him?