“Blaaaaine…..you should dance with me, Blaine!”

Blaine snorted in amusement at the ridiculous look on his boyfriend’s face and reached out to grab Kurt’s drink before he could spill it all over both of them. The room was filled with the sound of loud conversations, drunken laughter, and some mindless, bass thumping trance song, which someone had blasting over the wall speakers, so it was a little difficult to hear what Kurt was rambling on about. Blaine figured it couldn’t have been that important though; Kurt was plastered enough that Blaine was positive he wasn’t really making much sense anymore.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, honey,” Blaine replied loudly, cutting off Kurt’s tirade and setting the red plastic cup on the little table next to the sofa he was lounging on. “How many is that now? Four?” Kurt scrunched up his nose, trying to remember, and then shrugged.

“I dunno. More than you,” he grinned. His speech was slurred enough that Blaine was sure it must be at least four. Kurt had started off the night drinking a blend of vodka and lemonade, but if the blissed out look on his face was anything to go by, Blaine thought his cup probably contained more vodka than lemonade now. “Doesn’t matter!” he exclaimed suddenly, plopping himself down on Blaine’s lap and straddling his legs. A quick glance down revealed that Kurt wasn’t wearing the espadrilles he’d been wearing when they arrived at the party a few hours before.

“Where did your shoes go?” Blaine asked, and Kurt laughed, shrugging a little. He slid his arms around Blaine’s neck and leaned in close, his alcohol tinged breath making Blaine wince slightly.

“You should dance with me though cause I fucking love this song!” Kurt cried. The song currently playing was “Low.” Blaine laughed.

“Yeah, well, you would,” he teased, but Kurt didn’t seem to get it. He began bouncing up and down on Blaine’s lap and chanting “Dance! Dance! Dance!” until finally, Blaine gave in. “Alright fine. But don’t go complaining if anyone makes fun of you for dancing like an idiot.” Ignoring everything but the beginning of the sentence, Kurt gave a cheer and, before Blaine could stop him, grabbed his half-full cup to down the rest of it before hauling himself to his feet. He grabbed a hold of Blaine’s hand and dragged him off into the mass of mostly-drunk dancers.

Spinning around to face his boyfriend and consequently stumbling a little bit, Kurt took one of Blaine’s hands and placed it at his own waist before putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. He laced their other hands together and rested them on Blaine’s chest before laying his head down comfortably next to the hand on Blaine’s shoulder. They began to sway back and forth lightly; amidst the raunchy dancing and blaring “rap” music, they were slow dancing. Blaine bit back a laugh.

“Uh, babe? I don’t think this is how you dance to a song like this,” he pointed out. He faintly heard Kurt say something in return but the taller boy’s face was pressed up against the fabric of Blaine’s purple t-shirt, so it was too difficult. “Can’t hear you, Kurt.” Kurt lifted his head and looked directly at Blaine so their eyes met.

“I said, this is how to dance to a song like this in Kurtlandia.” The look on Kurt’s face was so serious that Blaine just lost it. Kurt gave a lopsided grin in response to the laughter, obviously unsure as to what was so funny.

“Okay,” Blaine finally managed to say, his laughter dying down to occasional chuckles. “You’ve definitely had more than four cups. Kurtlandia?” Kurt nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Okay, so, in Kurtlandia, roads are made up of pink peeps and the clouds are cotton candy and it rains skittles, okay?” He explained, sending Blaine into another fit of giggles. “And I’m the King of Kurtlandia, which I guess makes you Queen Blaine, and we live together in a castle made of rainbows and happiness and we have five pet mooses. Moose…meese?” Kurt paused, looking confused, and Blaine took advantage of the pause.

“Why am I the Queen?” he asked, far too amused by the conversation to really care about the fact that a few of their friends had spotted them from their place in the corner of the room and were laughing hysterically at how ridiculous they looked, slow dancing among all the people around them, most of whom were grinding in a very sexual manner to the song. “And why the hell do we have five moose?”

“You’d look prettier in a dress, I think,” Kurt replied, finally giving up on finding the plural form of moose. “And anyway, we have meeses cause I like them and they fight off all the kingdom invaders. Our meese are named Donna, Katniss, Sweetie Pie, Lucas, and Pretty Sing. They fart gold by the way, which is why Kurtlandia is the richest kingdom in the world. Even richer than Cinderella’s kingdom!”

Blaine laughed and then made a face when he actually pictured a moose that farted gold. Kurt didn’t seem to notice.

“So, so, and the casts of White Collar and How I Met Your Mother live there and they always put on musicals for our entertainment. Oh! And our bed is unbreakable, so then at night, you and I always—” Kurt suddenly stopped talking and glanced up at the ceiling. Blaine looked up as well, confused, and then realized Kurt was trying to figure out what song the sound system had just switched to. “OH MY GOD, I LOVE THIS GODDAMN SONG!” Kurt suddenly shouted, pulling away from Blaine and pushing through the throng of people to get to the small stage at one end of the room. He scrambled on top of it, almost tripping over the cords littering the stage floor, and grabbed hold of the sparkly pink microphone attached to the end of the mic stand.

“Attention people!” Kurt yelled into the microphone, his voice loud enough that it drowned out the music and caused everyone to stop what they were doing and look over at him. “This song’s for my boyfriend, Blaine!” People began to laugh as they realized what Kurt intended to do and before Blaine to even try to stop him, Kurt began to sing along with the song.

“It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone!” Kurt sang-screamed into the microphone, still in the correct key despite his drunkenness. “It’s not unusual to have fun with anyonnneee! But when I see you hanging around with anyone, it’s not unusual to see me cryyyyyyy! I wanna die!”

“Oh my god,” Blaine muttered, face-palming and laughing despite himself. He really wished someone with a camera was filming this right now because it would make excellent black mail material. He glanced around at all of their laughing friends, many of whom were cheering Kurt on or singing along themselves, and then spotted Puck in the corner of the room, holding up a phone to video tape Kurt’s drunken shenanigans and laughing hysterically at the way he was dancing. Puck, along with Artie and Quinn, had been the ones laughing at Blaine and Kurt slow dancing a few minutes ago. Pushing his way through the crowd, Blaine made his way over to the small group.

“I didn’t think he’d had this much to drink!” Quinn exclaimed once Blaine was close enough to hear. “Weren’t you supposed to be watching him?”

“I am,” Blaine replied with a grin. “And so is most of the party.”

“You know this is so going on Facebook, right?” Puck chimed in, smirking at Blaine, who didn’t have the heart to tell him that it couldn’t go on Facebook because then everyone (including Kurt’s father) would get to see him in all his too-young-to-legally-be-drinking glory.

“Oh Jesus, what is he doing to that microphone?” Artie asked suddenly, looking alarmed and amused all at the same time. Blaine turned his attention back to the stage and almost started crying with laughter at the sight of Kurt using the microphone as a stripper pole. He’d already pulled off his jacket, which had been lost somewhere off to the side of the stage, and it looked like his other clothes were soon going to follow.

“Oookay,” Quinn said, her face turning red. She was obviously embarrassed for Kurt. “Blaine, I think you should probably take him outside now.” Blaine nodded, still chuckling over his boyfriend’s ridiculous dancing.

“Right, don’t want him to hurt himself or something.” Giving a final grin to his three friends, Blaine threaded his way through the crowd, intent on getting to the stage before anything too embarrassing happened.

“Love will never do!” Kurt shouted, getting wilder with every short dance break in the song. “What you wanna do! Why can’t this crazy love be miiiiiiiiinnneeeee?!” There was a pause in the vocals as the trumpets took their turn and Kurt used the opportunity to yank off the white button-up shirt he was wearing and throw it into the crowd. The drunken teenagers watching went crazy and the shouts and screams of approval almost drowned out the music. With a grin, Kurt started to un-button his skinny jeans, ready to throw those away as well, but then he spotted Blaine climbing up onto the stage. “Blaine!” he yelled, barely audible over the noise in the room. “Sing with me, baby! BE THE DAVID BURTKA TO MY NEIL PATRICK HARIIISS!”

Rolling his eyes at his now half-naked boyfriend, Blaine tried to grab a hold of Kurt’s arm so he could lead him offstage but Kurt twirled away and laughed as he evaded Blaine’s grip.

“C’mon Kurt,” Blaine called, trying to ignore the boos he was getting from the audience for taking away the entertainment. “Why don’t we go take a breather outside?” In response, Kurt stuck out his tongue.

“You’ll never catch me alive!” He turned and tried to run but only got a few steps before tripping over the mic cord and stumbling a bit. He would have fallen completely if Blaine hadn’t grabbed his shoulders and steadied him. Before Kurt could so much as try to get away again, Blaine lifted him up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and started off for the stairs leading off the stage. Suddenly, the boos turned into whistles and cat-calls and the vast majority of the room seemed to now be shouting encouragements at them. Blaine distinctly hear Puck yell, “Get some!”

Blaine could hear Kurt shrieking something at him but the angle and the noise around them made it impossible to hear him clearly, so Blaine just shifted Kurt around to a more comfortable position and headed for the door that lead to the staircase out of the basement. As they passed through the throngs of people around them, Blaine spotted Santana standing near the doorway, Brittany plastered to her side and a smirk on her face.

“Try to avoid having sex in the guest room again, Anderson!” Santana called out to him as they passed by and Brittany giggled, obviously shitfaced. Santana had thought it was pretty hilarious when, at the last party she’d thrown, she’d walked in on Kurt and Blaine mostly naked in the room next to her bedroom. Of course, the next day, after everyone had sobered up, this didn’t stop her from bitching about burning the used sheets and whatnot.

“I’m pretty sure Finn and Rachel are already in there,” Blaine yelled back and then laughed at the horrified look on Santana’s face. He started up the stairs, leaving Santana to wonder if he’d been joking or not. He wasn’t.

Less than a minute later, Blaine opened the front door of the house and stepped out into the chilly fall air. He set Kurt back on his feet and helped steady the other boy as he swayed lightly. The front door was closed behind them and they were plunged into an almost silence that was only slightly marred by the muffled sounds of the party going on inside.

“Alright there, babe?” Blaine asked, noting the slightly green cast to Kurt’s face. In retrospect, Blaine realized that hanging a drunk person upside down probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. Kurt shivered, trying to use his arms to cover his bare chest.

“M’cold,” he muttered, hunching in on himself in an attempt to get a little warmer.

“Well, that’s your fault for throwing your clothes all over the place,” Blaine replied wryly. He unbuttoned the grey cardigan he was wearing and put it over Kurt’s shoulders before pulling the other teen against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. “Better? Sorry I don’t have a warmer sweater.”

Kurt hummed quietly in response and snuggled up against his boyfriend, pressing his face against Blaine’s neck in contentment. They stood there quietly for a few moments, taking in each other’s warmth, before Kurt spoke again.

“We should get married.”

Blaine suddenly found himself choking on air. It took him a few moments to compose himself and then he realized he probably shouldn’t be taking what Kurt was saying to heart, since he was completely smashed at the moment.

“Can’t get married, sweetheart,” Blaine finally replied. “I’m technically too young.” Kurt fell silent, thinking about this problem.

“What if your mom says you can?” he asked after a moment, and Blaine chuckled. “No really! What if you get a signed paper that says it’s okay that you marry me and then we can…why are you laughing?” Kurt pulled back slightly so that he could look Blaine in the eyes. “You don’t want to marry me?” The question was asked with such disparity and hopelessness that Blaine couldn’t help but kind of feel like an asshole. Kurt looked like he was about to cry.

“No, that’s not it. Of course I want to marry you,” Blaine said soothingly, feeling better as Kurt’s expression cleared. “I just don’t want to marry you right now. Especially if I need a signed permission form from my mom to do so.” Kurt frowned.

“But whyyy?” he whined. “We’d be an awesome married couple. Everyone at school’d be really jealous.”

“Honey, if one of your main arguments as to why we should get married is that it would make everyone at school jealous, then I don’t think we’re ready to get married just yet.” Kurt pouted, which made Blaine smile. Despite the whole loud, ridiculous, slutty, have-to-take-my-clothing-off-in-front-of-everyone part, Kurt was actually a pretty cute drunk.

“Blaine, think ‘m gonna throw up....”

Blaine winced. ‘What was that about a cute drunk?’ he thought wryly.

“Okay, time to get off the front porch then.” Letting go of Kurt and ignoring his protests at the sudden loss of warmth, Blaine put a hand on the small of Kurt’s back and grabbed one of his arms to lead him down the pathway from the front door to the driveway. They made their way onto the grass a little ways away from the mass of parked cars, finding a place where it wouldn’t cause too much trouble if Kurt really did puke. Reaching a large elm tree right in the middle of the yard, Blaine helped Kurt sit on the grass underneath it and then started to pull away.

“Noooo, don’t go…” Kurt mumbled, looking nauseous and sad at the thought of Blaine leaving.

“Relax, I’m just going to go see if I can find the rest of your clothes so you’ll be a little warmer,” Blaine assured him. “I’ll be right back.” Kurt gave a little depressing sigh and finally nodded forlornly, as if he was sure he’d never see Blaine again. Blaine grinned and leaned over to kiss Kurt’s forehead lightly. “Don’t move.”

Ten minutes later, Blaine made his way back outside, this time holding Kurt’s clothing and previously missing shoes. As he approached the tree he’d left Kurt under, he heard the sound of someone singing quietly to themselves. It wasn’t until he was standing just beside the tree that Blaine realized what the song was.

“Les Misérables? Really?” Blaine asked as he sat on the ground next to his boyfriend. The smile on his face dimmed when Kurt turned to face him with tears overflowing from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

“It’s such a sad musical, Blaine, you don’t even know…” Kurt slurred pitifully and Blaine sighed; he knew where this was headed. “And Drink With Me is my favorite song. But why is Marius singing about Cosette? They just met like, yesterday, and Eponine just died so he should be singing about her but he’s a fuck weasel, Blaine, he really is. It’s just not fair! Why does Mr. McButthead live while everyone else dies and—”

“I brought your clothes,” Blaine interrupted, holding out the little bundle. Completely forgetting about what he’d been saying, Kurt snatched up his shirt and jacket.

“Oh sweet Jesus, thank you, I was freezing my balls off out here.” He pulled off Blaine’s cardigan and then looked down at his shirt, as if trying to remember what to do with it.

“Need help?” Blaine asked and Kurt nodded. Between the two of them, they managed to get Kurt back into his clothes and when they were done, he snuggled down into the warmth of his jacket. As Blaine was sliding his cardigan back on, Kurt rubbed at one of his eyes and then pulled his hand back to frown at it in confusion.

“Why was I crying?” he asked, looking at his wet fingers as if they held the secret to all of life’s greatest mysteries, if only he could figure them out.

“Les Mis,” Blaine replied without thinking. He settled back to lean against the tree behind them and then mentally cursed himself. Kurt let out a dramatic gasp.

“That’s right! Baby, everyone dies in that stupid show! Even Gavroche, which just isn’t fair because he didn’t do anything and he’s just a little kid and…and, and….” Kurt trailed off, looking confused for a moment, before he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m sleepyyyy...” He laid his head down on Blaine’s shoulder and slumped against his side.

“We should probably head out soon,” Blaine agreed, grabbing a hold of Kurt’s left hand with his right and lacing their fingers together. Neither boy made a move to get up. After a few moments of silence, Blaine thought Kurt had fallen asleep and was about to wake him up to leave when Kurt spoke.

“Where did you find my shoes?” Blaine started laughing.

“Well, one of them was inside the piano in the living room. The other one was stuck to the ceiling in the kitchen.”

“Stuck with what?”

“Marshmallows.”

“Really? I didn’t know Santana had marshmallows at her house.”

“She didn’t.”

There was another stretch of silence as Kurt processed this information. And then…

“We should get married at Disney World.”