Maybe Someday

"Hey, baby, come a little closer noooow!"

Blaine began wailing out in a terribly loud and uncontrollable belt. He released a wild laugh that bordered on insanity, but it was interjected with hiccups. The dark haired singer put all of his weight against Kurt who was struggling to steady Blaine enough to lead him to his car after Rachel's drunken party.

"Alright, Blaine, no more ear-shattering solos. Normal people are probably trying to sleep right now." Kurt told his wasted friend who was now flailing his arms around carelessly. Blaine continued to giggle shamelessly and lean against Kurt, causing them both to stumble down the street in a zig-zag pattern.

"But I have a beautiful voice!" Blaine shouted, creating an echo throughout the quiet neighborhood. Kurt loudly shushed him and clamped a hand over Blaine's mouth, resulting in more muffled laughter.

"Not when it's one in the morning and you're completely trashed," Kurt replied sternly as the unsteady pair reached Kurt's car. The soprano opened the passenger side door and helped Blaine inside while the older teen mumbled something incomprehensible. He quickly shut the door once Blaine was settled and walked around to the driver's side.

"Don't you want me, baby? Don't you want me, OOOH!" Blaine leaned back in the car seat and closed his eyes while he sang. Kurt sighed and started the engine.

"That's it. You can't go home like this."

"Like what?" Blaine slurred.

"You can sleep over at my house," Kurt decided firmly. "Just no more singing, okay?"

Blaine hiccupped. "Gotcha."

Kurt knew that Rachel's party would get a bit out of hand—with Puck there, he assumed alcohol was a given. What he hadn't expected was just how much Blaine planned on drinking. It was secretly thrilling for him to see clean-cut Blaine in such a reckless state, but his main concern was making sure the two of them got home safely. And this goal was beginning to grow increasingly harder to meet once Blaine started leaning sideways in the passenger seat so that his head almost rested in Kurt's lap as he drove down the dark street.

"Blaine, could you sit up, please?" Kurt asked through clenched teeth. His patience was being tested, that was for sure. Kurt knew that sober Blaine would never dream of being so bothersome so he didn't want to lose his temper unnecessarily—even though he was the tiniest bit upset with Blaine for spending half the night making out with an equally drunk Rachel Berry.

"You were working as a waitress in a cocktail baaaaar!" Blaine screeched, looking up at Kurt with doe-like eyes.

"What did I say about singing?" Kurt reminded him strictly.

"Don't you want me, baby—"

"Put your seatbelt back on, Blaine! We could die!"

Blaine heaved an overdramatic sigh and sat upright, fussing with his seatbelt until it was securely strapped across his chest. The boy pouted childishly. "You're cranky when you're tired."

"Well, you're annoying when you're drunk," Kurt retorted, fixing his eyes on the road. "So we're even."

Blaine continued to sing as Kurt pulled into his driveway. His house was dark and motionless—exactly what he expected in the middle of the night. Finn's car wasn't parked in its usual spot so Kurt assumed his stepbrother was still on designated driver duty, making sure all of his drunk friends got home safely. Kurt pulled his keys out of the ignition so that the gentle hum of the car engine disappeared, leaving only the soft sound of crickets in the quiet evening.

"Here's the deal, Anderson," Kurt turned to Blaine in all seriousness, only to be met by a pair of playful eyes that were noticeably plagued by drunkenness. Blaine giggled and hiccupped at the sight of Kurt's stony expression. "If we both want to make it through the night alive, we're going to have to be quiet so that my dad and Carole don't wake up."

Blaine nodded with enthusiasm and grinned stupidly. "I can do that!"

"That means no singing," Kurt reminded him like a parent scolding their child. Blaine clumsily mimed pulling a zipper across his mouth while Kurt rolled his eyes. He quickly hopped out of his car and closed the door behind him slowly so that no noise was made. Blaine had already stumbled out of his seat and began sauntering toward the front door of the Hummel-Hudson residence.

"Kurt, your house—" Hiccup. "—looks like a castle or something! Wow, it's big!"

Kurt rushed over to Blaine and gripped his forearm so that the drunken boy would stop swaying. "Blaine, you've seen my house before, and, no, it does not look like a castle. Now, be quiet!"

"Quiet, yeah—sure, okay," Blaine mumbled in a whisper, placing a finger to his lips. Sighing, Kurt dragged Blaine to the front door. The younger boy fumbled with his house key, making sure to act quietly. Blaine stumbled in a small circle around himself, staring up at the dark sky with his mouth hanging open. When Kurt finally pushed the door open with as little disturbance to the silence as possible, he froze and turned to Blaine.

"Remember—not a sound," He instructed. Blaine hiccupped once and covered his mouth immediately to muffle the sound. Kurt nodded once in approval—at least he was trying—and led Blaine into the house by his wrist. The house was pitch dark and completely silent when the two boys entered. The clock on the mantle ticked softly in the background and read 1:34 in the morning. Kurt made a beeline to the staircase with Blaine in tow and started ascending them with care. Each step they took pulled at Kurt's nerves, causing his heartbeat to pound brazenly against his chest. Kurt knew that if his father found out that Blaine spent the night—especially in his room—there would be heavy consequences, even if it were the most responsible option. Kurt had a plan, though: he would wait until his father left in the morning for work, then sneak Blaine out to his car and drive him home. No harm, no foul. And what his father didn't know won't hurt him.

Kurt ushered Blaine into his room, keeping an eye on his father's closed bedroom door. The dark haired boy entered the room and immediately flopped onto the queen-sized bed with a resounding thud. Kurt quietly shut the door behind him and flipped on the lights, exhaling with relief.

"We made it! I was quiet!" Blaine cheered as he bounced on the bed, disregarding Kurt's previously instructed silence. Kurt's eyes widened as he charged toward his bed, landing beside Blaine so that a hand could be placed over his mouth once again.

"Blaine, stay quiet!" He hissed in a harsh whisper. "These walls are paper thin."

"Your walls are made of paper?" Blaine giggled from behind Kurt's hand. The lighter haired boy sighed in an attempt to control his frustration while his friend continued to laugh giddily.

"Blaine, please—"

Kurt was cut off by Blaine rolling off of the bed and onto the floor with another, louder thud. Kurt hopped off the bed swiftly and began making his way toward Blaine who was now lying in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath and laughing with uncontrollable, drunken lunacy.

"Kurt, I…I—" Laughter. "—I fell off the bed—" Hiccup. More laughter. "—I just fell off the bed!"

"Blaine!" Kurt scolded in a hushed tone. He knelt beside his friend in a panic as the laughter died off and listened to the silence of the house. Thankfully, no one in the house seemed to be disturbed by Blaine's outburst. "You're acting completely insane right now. You need to get to sleep, all right? Just get back in bed."

Blaine blinked his tired eyes at Kurt's own worried blue ones. It seemed as if, suddenly, his unpredictable childish phase was over. It was replaced with intense fatigue. In fact, Blaine almost began to fall asleep right there on the floor.

"Okay…" He mumbled almost incomprehensibly. Kurt helped him up and back onto the bed. Blaine buried his face in one of the many pillows as Kurt began to make his way into his bathroom.

"Good night, Blaine,"

"Wait!" Blaine sat up immediately, causing Kurt to freeze. "Where are you going?"

Kurt blinked, taken aback. "The bathroom. I have to do my moisturizing routine before I can go to bed—"

"Don't leave," Blaine whimpered, looking more like a lost puppy than ever. His curly hair was untidy and his eyebrows were pulled together in worry. Kurt couldn't help but think he was being completely unfair—Blaine couldn't look this adorable and expect Kurt to stay annoyed with him. With another sigh, Kurt's irritation vanished. He crossed his arms and took a step toward the bed.

"Fine," He smirked half-heartedly. "Just lay down. I won't leave until you fall asleep."

Blaine grinned like a pleased child and hid his face in the pillow. Kurt rolled his eyes and calmly walked over to the bed, staring down at Blaine with an exasperated expression. Blaine shifted so that his hazel eyes peeked out from the satin pillow he was practically smothering himself in.

"Stop playing around and—"

Blaine flashed a coy, boyish smile as he grabbed Kurt's forearm. His other hand lunged out to Kurt's waist and the dark haired boy pulled him down to the bed. Kurt released a yelp of shock and ended up lying down beside Blaine amongst the pillows, dumbfounded. Blaine simply laughed stupidly at the situation, still staring at Kurt with a childish grin.

"Blaine, you need to get to sleep," Kurt advised. The smaller boy was about to get up until he felt a hand brush against his cheek.

"Don't you… want me… baby?" Blaine muttered out tiredly, eyelids drooping. Kurt became suddenly aware that they were both lying on their sides facing one another, only mere inches between their faces. Kurt blushed a deep pink as he felt Blaine's fingers gently graze his cheekbone. Blaine's hazel eyes were completely fixated on Kurt's own blue ones. This time, however, they weren't plagued with drunkenness. They seemed warm, sincere, and filled with longing.

"Blaine…" Kurt began, but the older boy cut him off.

"You have beautiful eyes," Blaine spoke with certainty and (what seemed like) pure sobriety. Kurt swallowed hard, trying not to let his thoughts wander to Blaine's pouty red lips or his muscular arms that were now wrapping themselves around Kurt's body. He had spent many nights dreaming that Blaine would say something as breathtakingly romantic as this and, honestly, Kurt wanted to believe that he meant it tonight. However, the truth is that Blaine was drunk. And he probably wouldn't remember any of their conversation in the morning.

Kurt opened his mouth, trying desperately to speak. "T-Thank you."

Blaine smiled a characteristic crooked smile that he could accomplish—apparently—even when he was completely smashed. His face began inching closer to Kurt's, slowly but surely minimizing the gap between their lips. Kurt, who was now so deeply lost in his fantasies that he could barely think straight, took one glance into Blaine's blood-shot eyes. That's when he returned to reality.

Kurt had morals. And he had seen quite enough bad soap operas and romantic comedies to know that kissing someone who was drunk would only lead to more drama and heartache. With this in mind, Kurt gathered all his strength and pulled away from Blaine's lips that were so close to grazing his own.

"Not tonight," Kurt breathed, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a morose half-smile. "I want you to remember our first kiss."

Blaine pouted with exaggerated disappointment and turned over onto his back after mumbling something unintelligible. Kurt exhaled as he got up from the bed. If only Blaine knew how hard Kurt had to work to resist him… Gently, Kurt pulled the covers up to Blaine's shoulders. The dark haired singer was already fast asleep, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Kurt watched him silently for a few moments before retreating back to his bathroom.

Maybe someday Blaine would want to kiss him without having so much to drink beforehand. Maybe someday Blaine would tell him he has beautiful eyes—and mean it.