Blaine hates Kurt.

He hates that stupid bitch-face of his, the arrogant poise and the way he carries himself higher than everyone else. Well, Blaine's seen pictures. He knows Kurt Hummel wasn't always the attractive bastard he is today.

Truth be told, it's not all hate. It's a whole bunch of complicated and partly contrary emotions, all bundled up into a big tangly mess that Blaine carries around with him like a ball and chain.

- ~ -

Kurt despises Blaine.

Who does he think he is, anyway? Barging into Glee club and stealing all the solos just so he could grin at Kurt and give him the finger...? Kurt hates that arrogant prick, his know-it-all attitude and snarky commentary.

And his stupid tight jeans, his expertly styled hair, the crinkle around his eyes and the glint of his teeth when he laughs...

Not that any of that matters. Blaine Anderson is, and always will be, the biggest douche at McKinley High.

- ~ -

Three days after Blaine's acceptance into Glee club, Rachel catches the flue. Now, whenever this rare phenomenon takes place, the entire club tends to race to the chairs and eagerly await the beginning of the lesson, grateful for the opportunity of a solo. Which is why Kurt's basically vibrating with excitement as Mr Schuester strides into the room.

“Guys, today is a very special day for all of you...,” he hints, smiling and arching an eyebrow.

The club cheers, and Finn crosses his arms. “You're all way too excited about this, Rachel's one of us,” he mumbles, but the attention is focused on Mr Schuester.

“Kurt and I have been working on something all week,” Mercedes beams, winking at Kurt. They were planning on duetting Roxy's “The Look”, hopefully earning a Nationals solo.

“Actually,” Mr Schuester begins, dragging out the piano stool and seating himself, “I was thinking on letting our newest member perform. Blaine? What do you say?”

Kurt's smile vanishes, the whole club turns around to stare at Blaine, who smiles proudly and shrugs. “Sure.”

The club erupts into applause and Mercedes reaches up to pat him on the knee. Well, Kurt's not about to let slip this one chance for a song. “Excuse me? Since when do we let three-day-old members take away our solos?”

“Kurt, be fair.” Mr Schue claps along with the students as Blaine hops to the center and grabs a microphone. He's wearing red skinny jeans rolled up to his ankles and a striped polo hugged around his chest. Kurt would love to look away, but the way his muscles bend and the shirt creases around his tiny, tiny waist... even if his color choice is something to work on, Kurt couldn't deny the kid had excellent tailoring. Or just an excellent body.

“The stage is yours.” Mr Schue gestures to Blaine and the band begins to play. A funky electric beat fills the room and the Glee clubbers instantly begin to dance, throwing up their arms and cheering Blaine on.

Kurt sits, appalled, as he watches Blaine snap his fingers and shimmy before finally beginning to sing. The song itself is horrible, “Don't Be Jealous of My Boogie” by Rupaul, but Kurt can't deny the effect of the temptingly fast beat; before he knows it his foot is tapping along. Blaine's voice has a quality that makes any song sound interesting, plus he somehow manages to cut his words off exactly the same way it's done in the original, making for an almost comical imitation. It was a talent Kurt had spotted the first time he laid eyes on Blaine and it's not something to underestimate, not when trying to win a national show choir competition.

Annoyed, Kurt links his legs to avoid swaying along, focusing instead on the lyrics. Bad mistake.

No don't be jealous of my boogie, don't be jealous of my boogie

you can say that you are not, but I always see you looking

And then Kurt catches the little bastard actually looking at him, winking at him, as if to say “Hey, I'm the new kid and I already have you all figured out!”

Well, guess what, disco-boy, Kurt thinks fiercely, getting on my bad side will be the first and worst mistake you've ever made after coming to McKinley.

- ~ -

Kurt pays Blaine a visit in the locker room after school, catching him organizing the towels and dirty clothes by the benches.

Kurt doesn't miss a beat. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He struts up to Blaine's locker, successfully blocking it.

“Why?” Blaine asks calmly, dropping the towels to face Kurt. “Because I sang that song?”

“Because you've been here for less than a week and you're already--”

“Popular? Liked?” Blaine offers.

“Getting on my nerves.”

“They told me how closed off you are – how mean you can be,” he says smoothly. “I figured it's because you're gay and you've had to fight for respect. You don't want to lose that reputation.”

“I'm nothing short of a fighter,” Kurt replies coolly, “but it has nothing to do with my sexuality.”

Blaine stands up and despite being a few inches smaller, he seems almost menacing with his determined eyes. “Well then.”

“You're so goddamn annoying!” Kurt exclaims. “You act like you know everyone, like you've been here for ages! Guess what, I don't let anyone boss me around and I definitely don't like anyone showing me up.”

Blaine grins, warm breath ghosting over Kurt's face. He's so goddamn close...

“Is this about me wearing the same jacket as you yesterday?”

“No!” Kurt realizes he's shouting and he side-eyes the empty locker room before lowering his voice and hissing, “It's about you being an ignorant little kid and I want you to stop.”

Blaine takes a tiny step forward, bringing his face up all the way to Kurt's until he's only inches away, his eyes sweeping in amusement over Kurt's features. “You ever had a boyfriend, Hummel?”

Kurt jerks his head back in surprise, banging it against the locker and hating himself when he sees Blaine chuckle. “What's it to you?” he whispers.

“Oh, nothing.” Blaine looks down and Kurt's very, very aware of it. “It just seems like you're taking a particular... interest in me.”

“Listen up,” Kurt says darkly, schooling his expression into the familiar mask he wears everyday. “If you think you're funny, fine. Laugh all you want, it's the best joke you've ever made. If you're being seductive, stop. It's not working. And if you're trying to make me hate you, congratulations.” Kurt tilts his head, smacks his lips, and drags his eyes slowly over Blaine's face. Then he leans forward and whispers, “You've won the first price.”

Blaine's suddenly not so sure of himself anymore; his lip briefly quivers and he pulls himself together, fixing Kurt with a hard, unemotional stare. “You got me, Hummel. Well played.” He finally steps back and gathers his duffel bag. “See ya 'round.”

And with that, he's out the door.

- ~ -

Blaine's right though – the Glee club sure does like him.

Rachel fell on her knees the day he walked through the door, praising the lord for a good-looking, reasonably talented duet partner. The jocks had clapped him on the back more than once after PE, approving of his athletic abilities. It never seemed to stop.

Kurt refuses to think he's jealous, but when Santana announces a welcome party at her house exclusively for Blaine, he does quake in his boots a little.

Burt makes him go, just because “it's been a while since you've hung out with the crew,” and his father probably craves some alone time around the house anyway.

So Kurt dresses in his favorite v-necked shirt and skinny jeans, pairing it with a tight vest and loose scarf – the perfect mix of casual but fashionable. He arrives at Santana's around 8, wishing with all his heart that Blaine isn't there.

But of course he is. It's his party after all.

“Kurt! Get your ass over here and help me,” Santana calls the second he's through the door, balancing a platter of drinks. He hurries over and starts passing them out as the others wave hello. Half of them already seem drunk.

“Glad you showed up,” a voice hums into his ear. He snaps up and sees Blaine retreating, clearly exaggerating his walk to display his legs and thighs and ass – dear God, did that boy not own a pair of looser pants? Then again, Kurt isn't one to talk.

He's still thrumming with anger when Puck stumbles by and pushes a drink into his hand, arm slung around a hysterically laughing Brittany. “Hold this while I bang the cheerleader,” he slurs, breath reeking of alcohol.

Kurt thinks about throwing the drink away, but Blaine's walking up to him while casually swinging a bottle of wine, making Kurt's skin itch with annoyance. “Heard you're constantly the designated driver,” he says, wearing the same bitchy smirk from the locker room. “Sissy.”

That's it. Kurt brings Puck's drink up to his mouth and chugs it in one go, wincing at the unpleasant bitterness. He throws the empty cup behind him and upon seeing Blaine's surprised expression gives a short, confident laugh. “I don't plan on driving tonight,” he says smoothly. One for me.

Blaine leaves with that same shocked face which, coupled with the warmth tearing its way down Kurt's throat, makes him want to throw his hands up and party. He stumbles into the center of the room where the other girls are mixing drinks and grabs a cup of red liquid. He downs this one too, completely aware of Blaine watching him from afar.

He doesn't know why Blaine makes him do things like these. Kurt prides himself in being tolerant; he usually tunes those who bother him out and finds other things to do. But with Blaine it's always about ruffling each other's feathers and figuring out how to get underneath the other's skin.

It's frustrating, yet surprisingly... fun.

Another sweep of alcohol through his system, and Kurt finally does what he's been too prude to do all junior year.

“Woot! Let's party,” he yells, earning cheers from all around.

Dizziness briefly settles over his brain and when it clears, Blaine is once again standing right next to him. “Trying to upstage me, Hummel?” he hisses.

“You haven't done anything yet,” Kurt replies with a grin. “There's nothing to upstage.”

“Listen to me, Kurt,” Blaine whispers furiously, grabbing Kurt's arm. “You may be the biggest bitch at McKinley, but you're not a bigger star than me.”

“You misspelled 'attention whore'.” Kurt tries not to think about whether that made any sense. “Besides, I'm a bigger everything than you.” He gazes calmly at Blaine before throwing a pointed glance downwards.

Blaine gasps and licks his lips. “You are... disgusting!” he grinds out, breaking away from their intense moment with obvious strain. He picks up a half-empty bottle of ouzo and makes for the stairs, disappearing into the darkness above.

Kurt blinks, trying to regain common sense. “Where's he going?” he mutters to himself and stumbles forward.

Once upstairs, he listens for any sound of Blaine. He passes a door that seems to lead to a bedroom, but upon hearing a series of frantic moans decides Blaine probably isn't hiding behind Puck and Brittany while they have drunk hetero sex... Shuddering, Kurt continues down the hallway.

Then another muffled moan sounds, this time from a door further down the hall. For some reason, Kurt can tell if it's Blaine's moan, which both surprises and disturbs him. Under normal circumstances, Kurt would've stopped right there and left. He would've ignored Blaine and his weird habit of running off and leaving things unsettled, but he has too much alcohol coursing through his system to make a sensible decision, so he takes a wobbly step forward and pushes through the door.

Blaine is sitting on the ground, bottle in one hand, the other shoved down the front of his pants. He's jerking it in uneven strokes, head tilted back and eyes screwed up tight while his mouth falls open and he utters another drawn-out moan.

“Oh. Hi,” Kurt says stupidly.

Blaine scrambles up, knocking over the bottle in a hurried attempt to extract his hand. “Ever heard of knocking?” he hisses and steadies the bottle. A light blush creeps up his neck and Kurt would've loved to dwell on that, but he's too curious about what Blaine was doing before he came in.

“Masturbating? Up here?” he asks bluntly.

“Well, you left me no choice,” Blaine grumbles back.

“You seem angry.”

“I'm pissed, actually.”

Kurt sits down next to Blaine, causing him to crawl back and then blush even more furiously. “Pissed? Why?” he asks casually.

“Because you hate me.” Blaine claps a horrified hand over his mouth. “Shit! I didn't mean to--”

“Is that why you looked so hurt yesterday?” Kurt demands, unable to stop himself. “I was literally just trying to beat you at your own game. I didn't realize you'd take it personally.”

“I didn't! I just-- You're so annoyingly distant. I hate being rejected and it's this habit of mine to make sure everyone acknowledges me.”

“So you jerking off is accomplishing this how...?” Kurt knows he's being an ass, but once again he can't help it. The alcohol has burned away all his boundaries.

“And here you go again, being a bitch!” Blaine says fiercely. He takes a swig of ouzo and climbs to his feet, but Kurt pulls him back down.

“What did you just call me?” he asks lowly, words sharp like razorblades.

Blaine makes a face. “You're a bitch. The biggest bitch I've ever met; didn't you hear me before?”

Kurt hates that word. Hates it. It makes him sound like a high school cheerleader on a bad hair day, not the pissed-off manly individual he really is.

“I hate you,” he spits. “I came up here to talk to you and you call me a bitch.”

“I was half-way through my apology and you made fun of me!”

“Who was masturbating with a bottle of ouzo?” Kurt accuses.

“Who walked in on me without knocking?!” Blaine shoots back.

Then, with their minds clouded by the haze of alcohol and all common sense forgotten, Kurt lunges forward and clashes his lips against Blaine's. The world around him spins as he knocks Blaine over and they tumble to the ground, their hands immediately grabbing for parts to cling to. Blaine digs his nails into Kurt's sides and grabs fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

“I hate you,” Blaine growls into Kurt's mouth. “I hope you go to hell for this.”

“Why do you have to be so annoying...” Kurt answers breathlessly, pinning Blaine's smaller body beneath him. He's never done anything like this. Warmth twists in his stomach as he grinds his hips downward, earning a strangled gasp from Blaine.

Has he ever been physically attracted to Blaine? Occasionally, yes.

Has he, at any point, considered tackling him down and getting dirty? No.

Then why was he so turned on all of a sudden?

Hate.

Maybe that's it. This one bit of powerful emotion could be intense enough to make him throw all caution to the wind and just go with his instincts.

Blaine squirming underneath him pulls Kurt back to the presence and once again makes him aware of the heat twisting down his spine. He props himself up on his elbows and starts rolling his hips, intensifying the heat so quickly it almost makes him lose his balance.

“Oh God, don't-- I--” Blaine's voice is about three octaves higher and it hitches with every shaky breath he draws. Kurt leans down and kisses him forcefully, clacking their teeth together in time to their grinding. Kurt's close, but Blaine's closer. He already started before Kurt after all, a problem they become increasingly aware of as their bucking grows more erratic, more abrupt.

“No,” Kurt gasps between kisses. “I'm... not... ready...” He pulls away so quickly, he almost falls right back down as the dizziness rushes to his head.

“I can't do this,” he forces out, crawling backwards on all fours.

“Pussying out?” Blaine asks shakily as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“This is so...,” Kurt trails off, grabbing his temples. “I don't even know what I'm doing!”

Blaine sobers for a second. A shadow passes through his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn't think about it,” he finally says.

“No,” Kurt repeats. “No. I'm not that drunk.”

And with that, he scrambles up from the ground and out the door.