“You’re my gay,” Rachel slurred, sprawled out across the foot of her bed, face buried in her pink duvet while Kurt attempted to avoid her kicking feel.  “You’re my best gay.”

“I’m your only gay,” Kurt pointed out, taking another tentative sip from his plastic champagne flute.

Pink champagne.  Rachel had insisted on pink champagne because it was ‘the most festive of champagnes and the prettiest’.  What better way to celebrate the end of the school year and beginning summer break than with pink champagne and a sleepover?  

Well, after receiving his NYADA rejection, he could think of a number of things he’d rather be doing than celebrating Rachel heading off to New York in a few months, but with Blaine out of town for two weeks visiting relatives and Mercedes away for the weekend chaperoning a church field trip or something, this was the best way he had to spend a summer Friday night.  Rachel still held the ridiculously optimistic view that NYADA was going to realize its mistake any day now and send an updated letter welcoming him for the fall semester, and Kurt didn’t feel like arguing with it.  He was sad, and lonely without Blaine, and grumpy, and so pink champagne and a sleepover it was.  

Rachel, for her part, had wasted no time downing the first glass of bubbly liquid as they watched Funny Girl in her bed.  Then the second.  Then the third.  And now she was sprawled out across the bottom of her bed, face buried in her pink duvet, because she was already drunk and Kurt was barely finished his first glass.

“But you’re my best gay,” she pressed, rolling onto her side to grin happily at Kurt.  “I know other gays.  Blaine.  Santana.  Brittany.”

“But only half the time,” Kurt chuckled, pouring himself a refill.

“But half still counts!” Rachel insisted with a giggle.  “So my best gay needs to give me gay advice.  You’re like a gay Yoda.  Finn told me who Yoda is.  Do you know who Yoda is?” she slurred.

Kurt cocked his head.  “Everyone knows who Yoda is,” he said patiently.  

“Yes, and you’re my gay one,” she said, pointing to Kurt.  “I need advice.  Cause I miss him.”

“Cause you miss... Finn?” Kurt suggested, attempting to follow her conversation without the need for things like nouns.  Or adjectives.  

“Of course I miss Finn,” Rachel sighed.  She rolled onto her back and threw her arm over her face -- in the most dramatic way possible, of course.  “I miss him.  And you know what I miss most?”

“Hmm?” Kurt mumbled, taking a sip of the champagne.

“His penis.”

Kurt spat out the sip of his champagne.

“Agh, it’s raining champagne!” Rachel squealed before shooting an accusatory look at Kurt.  “You’re gay!  You’re not supposed to be weirded out by penises!  You’re gay, Kurt!”

“Being gay doesn’t mean I want to talk about my step-brother’s... you know,” Kurt sputtered.  “That is between you and him, and frankly, I pretend that it doesn’t happen.”

Rachel blinked owlishly, reaching over to take a long sip of her own drink.  “What’s wrong with his penis?”

“Oh my god, stop saying penis,” Kurt snapped.  “I don’t want to hear about Finn’s dick, okay?”

“But I miss it, Kurt,” Rachel whined.  “It was nice and it made me feel tingly.”

“I’m not listening!”  He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.  Maybe if he drank like Blaine he’d forget this conversation was even happening.  More champagne.  That’s what he needed, more champagne.  He rarely drank, but Blaine insisted that once everything got fuzzy, it didn’t matter what anyone said, it sounded like rainbows to him.  Well, until you drank too much and then it sounded like pain, but we just wouldn’t get there, would we?  “I’m not listening to Finn’s penis talk,” he continued, pouring another glass and starting on that one.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Rachel continued.  “It’s part of a healthy sexual outlook to be able to comfortably talk about penises.  Or my vagina.”

“Oh god,” Kurt groaned.  “The only thing I want to talk less about than Finn’s dick is your lady bits.  Maybe we should call Santana.”

“Ugh, but you’re my gay,” Rachel insisted.  “I want to talk about penises with you.  You know penises.  Blaine always seems happy.”

“You are not dragging Blaine into this.”

“What about his penis?”

“Oh my god, Rachel, we are not dragging Blaine or his penis into this conversation!”  Kurt shook his head.  Which, was a mistake.  He knew he’d stopped moving, but the room was considerably slower in stopping the shake than his body was.  The solution to that was more champagne -- wasn’t it?

“Does he have a small penis?” Rachel asked.  “Cause he’s a short guy.  And Finn’s is... “  She propped herself up on her elbow and waggled her eyebrows at him.  “Finn’s a... big guy.  If you know what I mean.”

Kurt was laughing before he realized what he was doing.

“What are you laughing about?” she asked.

“Oh... oh sweetie, no,” Kurt sputtered.  “I’ve seen Finn.  I’ve walked in on him in the shower by accident.  He’s okay.  And I’m sure he’s more than enough man for you.  Motion of the ocean, and all that.  But Blaine... Blaine isn’t a little guy.”  

Where on earth was this coming from?  Kurt didn’t want to talk about Blaine’s dick, and especially not with Rachel.  That was for the two of them.  It was special.

He also wasn’t going to sit by and let Rachel Berry assume that his boyfriend was anything less that gorgeously hung.  

“I mean, it’s not porn star length or anything,” he continued, sipping his champagne as he explained.  “But he’s much bigger than average.  And thicker,” he insisted.  “I mean, come on, you’ve seen it in the pants he wears,” he chuckled.  “It doesn’t hide anything.”

“I wish I could get Finn to wear the pants Blaine does,” Rachel sighed.  She crawled up the bed to flop down next to Kurt.  “You get to see Blaine’s penis all day and I have to imagine Finn’s behind his cargo shorts.  It’s hard.”

“Only when he’s touching himself,” Kurt mumbled.

Rachel gasped, reaching over and slapping Kurt’s arm.  “You made a sex joke,” she hissed gleefully.  “Kurt Hummel, you made a sex joke!”

“Ow!” Kurt recoiled, but managed not to spill any of his champagne.  He was pretty sure it got better and better tasting as the night went on.  “I am quite flirty, thank you very much,” he snapped.  “I’m super flirty.  I am the king of flirty.  I could give Santana a run for her money with sexy texts.”

“You could not,” Rachel laughed.  “It’s weird.  I mean, you have, you know, sex.”

“I am not your Ken doll, I have a dick, too, you know,” Kurt groaned.  

“Penis,” Rachel corrected.

“Oh my god, Rachel, you can call it a dick or a cock but if you call it ‘penis’ one more time, I’m pushing you off the bed.”

“But I don’t like cock, it makes me feel dirty.”

Kurt lifted an eyebrow.  “But that’s half the fun,” he insisted.  He rolled his eyes at her wide-eyed expression.  “Okay, seriously,” he said, downing the rest of his glass before setting the plastic on the night stand.  Okay, gotta remember, no sudden moves, he reminded himself.  Things were starting to get hazy.  And kind of sounding like rainbows.  Perfect... this was drunk.  He could do this.  “Seriously,” he repeated.  “Half the fun is feeling a little dirty.”  She still looked confused.  “Having his strong hands slide up your stomach, lightly brushing the skin just enough to tickle.  While his incredibly slippery dick presses in and stretches you until you’re pretty sure there’s no way anything else can fit, and he’s on top of you, pressing you down into the mattress as he starts to ride you from behind, and you know it shouldn’t feel so good with your face pressed into the mattress and your hand clawing at his thigh to make him go faster, and his hips shove your hips down onto the mattress which is enough to make you come all over the sheets while he’s still in you and gasping your name in your ear until you find the strength to squeeze your ass just enough to get him off and you both fall helplessly into the mess you’ve made.”

He didn’t realize how much he’d said until he stopped, looked down, and Rachel was looking up at him with a mixture of intrigue and horror.  “That... um...” he tried, shifting uncomfortably, both at Rachel’s wide-eyed stare, and the growing hardness in his pajamas at that particular memory.

“I thought people only had sex like that in porn,” Rachel whispered.  “You have sex like porn.  Oh my god!  Kurt!” she squealed before covering her mouth in the vain hope that her dads hadn’t heard that particular exclamation.  “Oh my god, Kurt!” she hissed.  “You have sex like porn!  In your house.  You have sex like porn in your house with your dad around!”

“Only... a little...” Kurt said, unsure how he got to this point.  How did they start talking about sex?  Weren’t they watching a movie?  “How did we start this talk?”

“You can help me!” Rachel insisted, reaching a hand over and placing in his lap... oh god, her fingers were tapping right on his dick... “See, you like talking about this!”

“Rachel, no,” he hissed, pushing her hand away.  “I mean, yes, I can help you, but no touching.  Girl hands.”

“Finn wants me to, you know, put his penis in my mouth,” Rachel explained.  “And he’s so far away at basic training, and I want to surprise him the next time I see him by putting his penis in my mouth.”

He ignored the fact that she kept referring to it as ‘putting his penis in my mouth’, and the stupid little ache in his cock from having been teased with a touch after telling that story... Blaine really, really needed to come home now... maybe Rachel would pass out and he could call him from her bathroom...

“Wait,” he said, dragging himself through his drunken haze back to the conversation at hand.  “You’ve never given Finn a blow job?”

“He was afraid if he put it in all the way, it would bruise my vocal chords,” Rachel explained.  “And we just couldn’t take that chance.  Plus... penises taste weird.  Champagne is better.  Can I have more?”

“He is not going to bruise your vocal cords,” Kurt groaned, offering the bottle to her.  “But it feels really, really good.  So you should.  Cause it feels good.”  Were his words starting to slur?  “It feels good,” he repeated, just in case he wasn’t clear the first time.

“But how am I supposed to do it?” she sighed, taking a sip from the bottle and handing it back to Kurt.  She laid her head back down on the pillow and sighed.  “Do you just lick it like a popsicle?  I haven’t had popsicles in forever.  Do you know how hard it is to find vegan popsicles?  Can I count his penis as vegan even though it’s attached to a living thing?”

“Seriously, Rachel?” Kurt sighed.  “How can you not...”

He was cut off with a snore.

Apparently when Rachel crashed, she crashed fast.  And hard.  Her head was buried in the pillow and she was out.

Kurt shifted off the bed as quietly as he could, cursing the champagne as his feet hit the floor but the floor continued to move under him.  Everything still sounded like rainbows, though, so he figured this was still good drunk.  Good drunk.  

The last thing he wanted to be was good drunk and horny in a bed with Rachel Berry.

He grabbed his phone and padded softly into her bathroom, locking the door behind him.  One hand dialed Blaine and the other inexpertly pushed his pajama pants down to his knees so that he could get to his already hard cock.

”Hey, Kurt, what’s up?”

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered.  He sat down on floor in front of the door and leaned back.  At least this way he knew Rachel couldn’t walk in on him even if she did wake up.  “Blaine, can you hear me?”

”Why are you whispering?”

“I’m drunk,” he said matter-of-factly.  “I’m drunk, and Rachel wanted to talk about sex, and I did.  And I thought of you and I’m horny, and you’re right, when you drink everything sounds like rainbows.”

”Oh really?”

“I have my dick in my hands in Rachel’s bathroom and I need you to talk sexy so I can come enough that I can sleep without trying to hump a pillow.”

Blaine chuckled on the other end, and Kurt could hear a door closing.  ”What’s the magic word?”

“Please, Blaine,” Kurt pleaded, his voice hoarse as he started to stroke his length.

”All right.  How about the fact that I wish I was on my knees in front of you, and you balls deep in my mouth, as my tongue traces the underside of your dick?”

“Perfect.”