Who Needs Therapy When You Have Beer
Blaine had asked himself that question countless times in the past few months.
Well, it all began and ended with hairgel, he knew that much. Well, almost. It really began with Kurt. More specifically, Kurt raising an eyebrow at him suspiciously. The eyebrow was raised especially high today which meant that Blaine was probably going to have to answer some uncomfortable questions.
“Why do you smell like you’ve been rolling around in beer?”
Questions like that. Damn it, Blaine, think of something! “I ... uh ... was out drinking.” Shit! Wrong answer. Evacuate. Evacuate! “I have to go now. See you at practice, Kurt.” He said, running towards the bathroom.
The Eyebrow Of Disapproval clearly disapproved heavily. Blaine could feel Kurts stare burning a hole into his back as he left and he got the distinct impression that he hadn’t heard the last of the subject of why he smelled like beer.
As he shut himself in the bathroom and looked in the mirror at his own sorry reflection (uniform damp and wrinkled, hair half gelled and half bedhead which really wasn’t a good look for him -- Blaine felt like the mirror was judging his lack of style) Blaine could only come to the sad realization that he couldn’t keep this up. He would have to tell Kurt eventually. It was getting harder to keep his clandestine meetings a secret and eventually Kurt’s curiosity would get the better of him and he would undoubtedly follow Blaine and find out his dirty little secret and then the shit would really hit the fan.
****
It all started roughly around 3 months ago, just before Kurt had transferred and shortly after he had come to Blaine, begging him for help in dealing with a certain bully. The same bully who had reduced Kurt to tears, had made his life a living hell and, now, who was apparently in the same boat they were. Blaine hadn’t even though twice about confronting him, which, in retrospect, really was a stupid idea. He supposed a bad mix of cocky overconfidence in his own ability to handle the situation and sympathy with Kurts plight had driven him to it.
Had everything gone according to plan they would have confronted the guy, had a nice long heart-to-heart, maybe shed some sympathetic tears together and, voila, the bully would come out and Kurt would be safe and they would all live happily ever after. - This might be a good time to mention Blaine gives terrible advice and his plans rarely ever work. He is the rare unlucky soul blessed with mountains of charisma and the determination of a bulldog but very little luck and the rather curious ability of never having his plans work out the way he wanted them. - So, naturally, nothing went according to plan, in fact, he may have made things worse but he didn’t like to dwell on that. The point is, after Kurt transferred he was feeling rather guilty and decided to try and make things right. Kurt wasn’t happy at Dalton, a blind man could see that, but the only way he would go back to McKinley was if his bully situation was resolved.
And so Blaine, with every good intention in the world, found the bullys address (listed under Karofsky, at least he thought that’s what Kurt had called him) and marched straight over to his house.
In retrospect, also a bad idea. Looking back, Blaine couldn’t really say why Karofsky didn’t just punch him in the face; he probably wouldn’t have even blamed him if he did given the circumstances. Karofsky just sort of stood there and eyed Blaine as if he wasn’t sure if he could believe his eyes, when he tried to slam the door Blaines foot was there to block it and when he told him to leave Blaine said no. All in all he was kind of lucky, or maybe he had just misjudged the situation because, instead of losing some teeth and being forced to drive back to Dalton in shame he somehow ended up sitting on Karofsky’s beat up sofa in the basement/den and downing a beer while they both awkwardly avoided talking and eye contact and acknowledgement of each others presence in the room.
At the time he thought Karofsky was just afraid of having a ‘fag’ in his house and was on guard in case of surprise butt secks but, looking back, it seemed more like Karofsky was trying to reach out, however clumsily his attempt might have been, to someone who might understand him.
He wasn’t even sure how it got started but next Sunday he was back and Karofsky was there, supplying booze and entertainment and steadfastly not making conversation which, naturally, Blaine had to fix.
It started off innocently enough. “Who’s playing?” “Redskins.” “Ah.”
And it snowballed from there. Soon Karofsky was talking about his favourite teams, his opinions on hockey versus football and why he played both, his favourite games. Eventually Blaine began joining in with his opinions, and then slowly, mens fashion, favourite designers and Broadway, most of which Karofsky ‘uh huh’d’ his way through, clearly thinking the subjects ‘too gay’ to comment on but not caring enough to object to the topics. Soon they were talking about everything ... well, almost everything - everything except the elephant in the room. The ‘K’ word.
When the subject was finally spoken of, to Blaines surprise it wasn’t him that brought it up but Karofsky. And by god, once he started talking about Kurt he would not shut up about it.
“-So then I started thinking, he’s practically a girl anyways, right? So it’s not weird, I just got confused - and he was wearing a corset. A damn corset! It was distracting. I just got it mixed up, right?”
“Right.” Blaine tuned back into the conversation, hoping he hadn’t just agreed to anything too bad.
“Exactly! That’s what I thought! But then, it’s like, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I would be sitting in class and he’d just pop into my head out of nowhere. I’d be eating lunch and there he was, in my head, I’d be in the shower and there he was, it’s like he was everywhere. And I would try to ignore him but he kept wearing those flashy clothes. How the hell am I supposed to ignore a guy dressed as Lady Gaga? It’s impossible, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, right.”
“You’re not even paying attention.”
That snapped Blaine out of it and he put on his best ‘I live to please’ smile. “Of course I am.”
Karofsky stared at him, looking slightly creeped out. “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“That smile thing.”
Blaines face fell. “Darn, that usually works on people.”
“What?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Anyways, you were saying?”
Karofsky raised an eyebrow and it was Blaines turn to be creeped out. Dave must have been channelling Kurt or something because the Eyebrow Of Disapproval was glaring down at him and, for a brief moment, Blaine wondered if Karofsky waxed his eyebrows because they were really neat looking and he kind of wished he had eyebrows that perfect.
Also, he may have been slightly drunker than normal when he thought that.
“Why do you put all that crap in your hair?”
“Crap?”
“The hair gel. It’s like you’re wearing a damn helmet. Hummel can do it, you can’t. It looks weird on you.”
Well, now Blaine was slightly offended. Kurt could wear hairgel but he couldn’t? What the hell? “It keeps my hair in place.”
“Well --” and here Karofsky took a large swig of his beer and pointed accusingly at Blaine. “You’re always talking about all that ‘not hiding your true self’ crap.”
“I only said that once!”
“Yeah, whatever. That gel. It’s stupid. Take it off.”
Ok, clearly Karofsky was waaaay drunker than Blaine. He didn’t even want to know why Karofsky cared about what products he put into his hair. However, he did know that when Karofsky started talking about hair products that was probably a good indication that he was not in his right mind and Blaine needed to leave before Karofsky tried to do something stupid like getting him to wash his hair.
“You should wash your hair!”
Oh my god! Evacuate! “I think I need to go now.”
“No way. It’s a great idea. Here I am spilling my guts to you like you’re my damn pastor or something - who would probably tell my parents to send me away if he knew I had, well, you know, one of you guys at my place.” His face was briefly shadowed before alcoholic stupidity took over once again. “Anyways. The hair crap - needs to go. Come on.”
Blaines brain was still trying to work out what the hell Karofsky was talking about when a firm hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the sofa. Both boys had a moment of vertigo - the kind you get when you don’t quite realize just how drunk you are until you stand and realize the floor is moving - before Karofsky staggered them both to the bathroom and pushed Blaine into the tub, clothes and all.
“I don’t have fancy shampoo.”
“What?”
The other boy looked far too serious for what Blaine had just heard come out of his mouth. “I don’t have fancy shampoo, I know you gay dudes like fancy stuff, but all I have is the store brand.”
“I - uh, I guess ... yeah.” Did that even make sense?
Karofsky nodded gravely before turning on the shower and drenching Blaine with icy cold water until his shocked and outraged curses could have woke the dead. Karofsky managed to somehow figure out the difference between hot and cold which was a miracle because Blaine couldn’t even see straight to get out of the tub. The rest of the shower was a blur but Blaine vaguely remembered they both started laughing hysterically at one point and he couldn’t remember how they got out of the bathroom but he ended up in one of Karofskys old jerseys and sweatpants because his uniform was soaked through. For some reason around that point he may or may not have started crying but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what about, something about hairgel and uniforms, but it was all kind of a blur. Eventually he passed out on the floor next to Karofskys already snoring self.
****
The next morning saw Dave awake before Blaine. Awake was probably the wrong word. He had clawed himself into a semi-conscious state at which point he realized he was in hell and hell was called ‘hangover’. What the hell had happened last night? What day was it? Where was he?
A soft murmur brought him back to reality and he turned his head to take in the very unusual sigh of another guy sleeping beside him. His brain didn’t immediately compute who the guy was, all he knew was he was strangely content with the sight of him which was pretty unusual... god, he hoped he hadn’t gotten drunk and picked up a male hooker. His allowance wouldn’t cover that.
Soon enough his brain caught up with his eyes and Dave recognized the boy as Blaine, but a very different looking Blaine than he was used to; laying is his stomach with his mouth opened slightly and his hair out of its gel prison for once. The guys hair was really fluffy. Not just fluffy but curly - like a sheep. Why did Blaine look like a sheep? It was kind of cute and before he could give it any thought his hand was already petting the fluffy head, tousling the curls and getting a childish sort of amusement the way they bounced around. It was around this point that his brain started to clear a little and he realized that he was sleeping with another dude and petting his hair which was very gay.
What the hell had happened again?
Dave had a very vague recollection of a shower which made him very uncomfortable to think about what might have happened. Blaine wasn’t wearing his uniform; he was wearing a very oversized jersey and sweats that Dave recognized as his own.
Oh! My! God!
They couldn’t have.
No. It was impossible.
Good god. First Kurt, then this guy. Clearly he was under some sort of gay attack. He needed to get Blaine out of there before his dad or mom wandered into the den. There was no way he could explain why there was a curly haired sheep boy wearing his clothes and sleeping with him. Well, he could explain but the answer wouldn’t impress them at all and then he would have to deal with his mom crying and his dad yelling and his friends knowing and then his life would be over and he would burn in hell for all eternity!
“Karofsky!” Dave flinched, looking at Blaine who had his tired, bloodshot eyes trained on him. “It’s ok.”
No it wasn’t. It was never going to be ok. His life was falling apart and Kurt and Blaine were tearing him apart piece by piece. He didn’t want this. He had never asked for any of this so why, why was this happening to him? God, he must still be drunk. He always was a maudlin drunk.
“Karofsky,” Blaine said, a little more gently.
“What.” His voice sounded like he had been eating sandpaper.
“You don’t have to be scared.” Blaine reached out a hand and grabbed Daves own. And, for some reason, that was enough.
They both eventually drifted off again.
****
The next morning was a disaster as both boys woke up realizing they were late for school, and, in Blaines case, he didn’t get back to the dorms so somebody would have noticed and he was sure to get a stern talking to about setting an example which would go against his record of being an exemplary student and role model.
The morning rush was frantic due in part to the hangovers and the fact that Blaine had to be extra quiet and sneak out, but not after he had slipped back into his wrinkled and slightly damp and musty smelling uniform and slapping some gel Karofsky had laying around in the bathroom in his hair before beating a quick retreat.
It was, of course, and unspoken rule that Blaine would be back again on Sunday and they would both do their best to never mention that night again and the fact that that they had woken up hand in hand and with Karofskys nose buried in Blaines fluffy hair.
After all, it didn’t mean anything.
They both liked Kurt.
****
Kurt knew something was up. He could smell it and it smelled like alcohol. Beer to be exact. Cheap beer. The sort of beer Blaine would normally never be caught dead drinking.
It wasn’t his intention to spy. He wasn’t one of those clingy, jealous types. He was just concerned, that’s all. Blaine was acting differently, he had missed out on practice for their duet (a stirring mash up of ‘Shake Ya Ass’ and Celine Dions ‘My Heart Will Go On’, Kurt couldn’t shake the feeling that that particular song was doomed to failure but that’s what happened when you made your decisions based on a hat draw, admittedly one of Kurt’s less intelligent ideas).
The point was, something was up and he was going to find out what.
The most obvious conclusion was that Blaine had a boyfriend but Kurt immediately scratched that idea. Blaine would have mentioned a boyfriend, he was far too honourable to play Kurt like that. They may not have been dating but Blaine seemed interested, and Kurt was interested, and they did seem to flirt a lot, not that Kurt had much practice flirting with someone who actually reciprocated but if Disney had taught him anything it’s that when two people made a connection like they did they were destined to be together. Disney had never steered him wrong before ... except with the part about step-mothers, Carole was everything he could ever want in a mother. He supposed Disney was allowed to be wrong once or twice.
It didn’t take long for him to discover a pattern. Sunday nights, for three weeks Blaine always seemed to disappear early Sunday evening and reappearing late Sunday night, usually smelling of beer and looking far too pleased with himself.
It wasn’t Kurts intention to follow Blaine. Actually, it was nothing more than a coincidence that a few weeks after Kurt had confronted Blaine he was driving back to Lima Sunday afternoon and spotted Blaines car parked in a non-descript neighbourhood that Kurt had driven by countless times and had never paid much attention to. What could Blaine possibly be doing in Lima, in this particular neighbourhood?
Kurt made a split second decision and turned his car into a side avenue.
He couldn’t tell which house Blaine might have gone into but, by a random stroke of luck there he was, coming out of a small ranch style house that was quite a ways away from where his car had been parked, staggering slightly, and grabbing a pack of beer out of the passenger’s seat of his car. Kurts eyebrows rose when Blaine walked into the house without knocking, seemingly quite at home.
Kurt knew he should go. He should get back into his car, go home and trust that Blaine wasn’t getting into trouble or was meeting a secret boyfriend or ... or ... oh, who the hell was Kurt kidding, he was already hiding in the bushes like some sort of criminal and probably ruining his clothes in the process. He slowly lifted his head up to look into the living room window. It was empty and dark. Slowly Kurt made his way around the house, peeking into windows and finding the house conspicuously free of occupants. It wasn’t until he noticed a tiny window by his feet that appeared to be the only source of light in the entire house did Kurt find Blaine.
In a rare moment where he completely forgot about his clothes Kurt got flat on his belly on the grass to look inside and felt his stomach turn to ice.
Blaine was there, flipping through what looked like a mens fashion magazine and swirling a bottle of beer absentmindedly before consulting his companion about something, pointing at the magazine. The other boy simply shrugged and turned back to the TV where a football game was playing and Kurt suddenly knew who this mystery person was who Blaine was missing practice and turning into a delinquent for.
Dave Karofsky.
Kurt felt a bitter weight settle in his stomach and tears stinging his eyes as he watched the two companionably chatting, so at ease in each others company. How could Blaine do this to him? How could he sit there, smiling at that monster as though they were best friends? Did he forget what Karofsky did to him, how he tormented him and hurt him and scared him until he had no choice but to run? Kurt wanted to run away -- but he also wanted to go down there and ask Blaine why.
He did neither.
It was as if he was glued to the scene. The saddest part was, he wasn’t just hurt, he was jealous. They looked happy and at ease and when Karofsky turned the page of Blaines magazine and pointed to something Kurt couldn’t see, that familiarity stung. He had known Blaine for months, had sung with him, flirted with him, danced with him but there was still something missing, something that Blaine gave to Karofsky but not to Kurt.
His vision blurred with tears that he refused to let fall.
It hurt. And worse, so much worse when he saw Blaine turn to Karofsky, kneeling on the ratty sofa and planting a soft kiss on the other boys lips.
Kurt ran. A sob escaped his lips as he dashed to his car, slamming the door and driving away, not caring where, just knowing he needed to get away. His tears made driving impossible for long and Kurt was forced to park his car. He sat there, alone. Truly alone, more so than he’d ever been before. At least before he hadn’t had his hopes up, hadn’t really believed that he could have someone for his own, until Blaine - to have all that taken away left him feeling more lost than he’d ever felt before.
How stupid was he to think it would work out?
Of course Blaine didn’t want him. He was stupid to ever think differently. He was short and fruity and weak and he sounded like a girl. Why would Blaine want a coward like him who couldn’t even stand up to a stupid jock, who ran away hoping like an idiot that Prince Charming would sweep him off his feet.
How could he ever face Blaine knowing how pathetic he must have seemed?
Kurt stayed there for a long time, crying and berating himself before he took a deep breath and began the ride back home. He just wanted to see his dad. A hug from his dad always made his problems seem smaller and he really needed that.
****
It was a good three weeks before the subject of that night was brought up again.
It began with a question.
“Do you think Kurt is happy?”
Blaine looked up from his magazine, surprised. “Why do you ask?”
Karofsky shrugged uncomfortably. As much progress as they had made Karofsky was still hesitant to admit his feelings for Kurt. “He never looked happy, towards the end there. Is he happier at that school of yours?”
“-No. He’s not. He misses his friends, he doesn’t talk about it but I can see it.”
“Oh. So, uh, do you think he’d ever come back. Y’know, to McKinley? Those Glee Club losers, they don’t look right without the lady boy.”
Blaine shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “I don’t know. He wants to go back but he’s scared.”
“Of me.” It wasn’t a question so Blaine didn’t give a reply. They both knew the answer anyways. Yes. Kurt was terrified of Karofsky and he wouldn’t go back unless something was done. That got Blaine thinking. “I kind of fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t have to agree with me.”
“Sorry. Anyways, if you’re so broken up about it why don’t you just apologize? I think Kurt - well, I don’t know if he would accept your apology but it would be a start. And this, what we’re doing, you’ve been getting better about talking and being open about yourself. I think what we have here is working.”
Karofsky looked straight ahead at the game, not seeing it but not daring to look at Blaine. “And what do we have?”
“Friendship.”
It looked like Karofsky was struggling with himself over the answer and Blaine let him, not in any hurry to make the other boy talk. “Friends - guy friends - don’t usually hold hands. Or take showers together. Or cry about hairgel and uniforms to another guy.”
Damn. Blaine had kind of hoped he had imagined that part. “Well ... maybe more than friends,” he suggested cautiously.
“You like Kurt.”
“Yeah, so do you.”
They both went silent, not knowing how to continue with that strange line of conversation. It was true. Blaine had feelings for Kurt, hell, he really liked Kurt but he didn’t think the other boy was ready for that. He was so unhappy and reserved, even when they were having fun there was a shadow hanging over him and Blaine didn’t want to make things worse even if Kurt wouldn’t see it that way. And he, in turn, was never fully able to let his hair down with Kurt (literally and figuratively) always mindful of how fragile he was and that Kurt had unofficially appointed him as his guardian angel. He was afraid of screwing everything up and Kurt really just needed a friend, not a boyfriend, so Blaine put his own feelings aside.
And that was that until - suddenly - Karofsky.
How that had happened he wasn’t even sure but when he woke up with Karofskys warm hand around his own and the other boys face in his hair it was like a light had gone off in his head. Karofsky, completely unsuspectingly, had torn down his walls and bulldozed himself a place in Blaines heart. He wasn’t sure if it had happened during the shower when he had scrubbed off Blains hairgel (something that he wasn’t sure Karofsky realized how significant it was for Blaine) or when he woke up that morning and realized that Daves arms around him felt ... right.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wanted Kurt and now he wanted Karofsky and he didn’t want to have to choose because he knew they both liked him back even if neither one had admitted it out loud before and if he choose between them one of them would be hurt. The thought of hurting either one of them, both so fragile and uncertain in their own ways, made him feel sick. He didn’t know what to do.
Eventually Karofsky pointed out that they had run out of beer and Blaine had an excuse to get some fresh air.
The beer made him stagger slightly as he made his way to the car and got out a pack of beer and the latest edition of GQ, something he had been meaning to look through but hadn’t had the time.
When he got back they both cracked open a bottle, clinked them together and turned their attentions respectively to the game and the magazine.
“What do you think of this scarf?” Karofsky briefly looked over and shrugged. “I was thinking about getting one like it but I can’t decide on a colour. I like blue but that’s not in this season.” He turned the page.
Karofsky reached over and turned the page back and pointed at a dark maroon bag. “This colour. You look good in red.”
Blaine froze. “It’s called maroon.” He said without thinking.
“Whatever. Hey, what are you doing?”
Blaine didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t thinking for once, just acting. He knelt on the sofa and leaned his body over until his lips met the other boys. Blaine tensed up, hoping that he hadn’t just ruined everything but, to his surprise, Karofsky didn’t freak out or throw him off, he just put a hand on Blaines waist and gently pushed him off. Karofsky was blushing furiously, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Sorry.”
That pretty much put an end to the night and Blaine was seriously regretting his actions until, just as he was leaving, Karofsky put a clumsy hand on his shoulder, turned him around and gave him a rough peck on the cheek before slamming the door closed.
Blaine grinned. The guy was no Casanova but despite his lack of grace and charm the kissed cheek tingled pleasantly. Maybe there was some small hope for them after all. There was just one missing piece to the puzzle.
Well, it all began and ended with hairgel, he knew that much. Well, almost. It really began with Kurt. More specifically, Kurt raising an eyebrow at him suspiciously. The eyebrow was raised especially high today which meant that Blaine was probably going to have to answer some uncomfortable questions.
“Why do you smell like you’ve been rolling around in beer?”
Questions like that. Damn it, Blaine, think of something! “I ... uh ... was out drinking.” Shit! Wrong answer. Evacuate. Evacuate! “I have to go now. See you at practice, Kurt.” He said, running towards the bathroom.
The Eyebrow Of Disapproval clearly disapproved heavily. Blaine could feel Kurts stare burning a hole into his back as he left and he got the distinct impression that he hadn’t heard the last of the subject of why he smelled like beer.
As he shut himself in the bathroom and looked in the mirror at his own sorry reflection (uniform damp and wrinkled, hair half gelled and half bedhead which really wasn’t a good look for him -- Blaine felt like the mirror was judging his lack of style) Blaine could only come to the sad realization that he couldn’t keep this up. He would have to tell Kurt eventually. It was getting harder to keep his clandestine meetings a secret and eventually Kurt’s curiosity would get the better of him and he would undoubtedly follow Blaine and find out his dirty little secret and then the shit would really hit the fan.
****
It all started roughly around 3 months ago, just before Kurt had transferred and shortly after he had come to Blaine, begging him for help in dealing with a certain bully. The same bully who had reduced Kurt to tears, had made his life a living hell and, now, who was apparently in the same boat they were. Blaine hadn’t even though twice about confronting him, which, in retrospect, really was a stupid idea. He supposed a bad mix of cocky overconfidence in his own ability to handle the situation and sympathy with Kurts plight had driven him to it.
Had everything gone according to plan they would have confronted the guy, had a nice long heart-to-heart, maybe shed some sympathetic tears together and, voila, the bully would come out and Kurt would be safe and they would all live happily ever after. - This might be a good time to mention Blaine gives terrible advice and his plans rarely ever work. He is the rare unlucky soul blessed with mountains of charisma and the determination of a bulldog but very little luck and the rather curious ability of never having his plans work out the way he wanted them. - So, naturally, nothing went according to plan, in fact, he may have made things worse but he didn’t like to dwell on that. The point is, after Kurt transferred he was feeling rather guilty and decided to try and make things right. Kurt wasn’t happy at Dalton, a blind man could see that, but the only way he would go back to McKinley was if his bully situation was resolved.
And so Blaine, with every good intention in the world, found the bullys address (listed under Karofsky, at least he thought that’s what Kurt had called him) and marched straight over to his house.
In retrospect, also a bad idea. Looking back, Blaine couldn’t really say why Karofsky didn’t just punch him in the face; he probably wouldn’t have even blamed him if he did given the circumstances. Karofsky just sort of stood there and eyed Blaine as if he wasn’t sure if he could believe his eyes, when he tried to slam the door Blaines foot was there to block it and when he told him to leave Blaine said no. All in all he was kind of lucky, or maybe he had just misjudged the situation because, instead of losing some teeth and being forced to drive back to Dalton in shame he somehow ended up sitting on Karofsky’s beat up sofa in the basement/den and downing a beer while they both awkwardly avoided talking and eye contact and acknowledgement of each others presence in the room.
At the time he thought Karofsky was just afraid of having a ‘fag’ in his house and was on guard in case of surprise butt secks but, looking back, it seemed more like Karofsky was trying to reach out, however clumsily his attempt might have been, to someone who might understand him.
He wasn’t even sure how it got started but next Sunday he was back and Karofsky was there, supplying booze and entertainment and steadfastly not making conversation which, naturally, Blaine had to fix.
It started off innocently enough. “Who’s playing?” “Redskins.” “Ah.”
And it snowballed from there. Soon Karofsky was talking about his favourite teams, his opinions on hockey versus football and why he played both, his favourite games. Eventually Blaine began joining in with his opinions, and then slowly, mens fashion, favourite designers and Broadway, most of which Karofsky ‘uh huh’d’ his way through, clearly thinking the subjects ‘too gay’ to comment on but not caring enough to object to the topics. Soon they were talking about everything ... well, almost everything - everything except the elephant in the room. The ‘K’ word.
When the subject was finally spoken of, to Blaines surprise it wasn’t him that brought it up but Karofsky. And by god, once he started talking about Kurt he would not shut up about it.
“-So then I started thinking, he’s practically a girl anyways, right? So it’s not weird, I just got confused - and he was wearing a corset. A damn corset! It was distracting. I just got it mixed up, right?”
“Right.” Blaine tuned back into the conversation, hoping he hadn’t just agreed to anything too bad.
“Exactly! That’s what I thought! But then, it’s like, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I would be sitting in class and he’d just pop into my head out of nowhere. I’d be eating lunch and there he was, in my head, I’d be in the shower and there he was, it’s like he was everywhere. And I would try to ignore him but he kept wearing those flashy clothes. How the hell am I supposed to ignore a guy dressed as Lady Gaga? It’s impossible, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, right.”
“You’re not even paying attention.”
That snapped Blaine out of it and he put on his best ‘I live to please’ smile. “Of course I am.”
Karofsky stared at him, looking slightly creeped out. “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“That smile thing.”
Blaines face fell. “Darn, that usually works on people.”
“What?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Anyways, you were saying?”
Karofsky raised an eyebrow and it was Blaines turn to be creeped out. Dave must have been channelling Kurt or something because the Eyebrow Of Disapproval was glaring down at him and, for a brief moment, Blaine wondered if Karofsky waxed his eyebrows because they were really neat looking and he kind of wished he had eyebrows that perfect.
Also, he may have been slightly drunker than normal when he thought that.
“Why do you put all that crap in your hair?”
“Crap?”
“The hair gel. It’s like you’re wearing a damn helmet. Hummel can do it, you can’t. It looks weird on you.”
Well, now Blaine was slightly offended. Kurt could wear hairgel but he couldn’t? What the hell? “It keeps my hair in place.”
“Well --” and here Karofsky took a large swig of his beer and pointed accusingly at Blaine. “You’re always talking about all that ‘not hiding your true self’ crap.”
“I only said that once!”
“Yeah, whatever. That gel. It’s stupid. Take it off.”
Ok, clearly Karofsky was waaaay drunker than Blaine. He didn’t even want to know why Karofsky cared about what products he put into his hair. However, he did know that when Karofsky started talking about hair products that was probably a good indication that he was not in his right mind and Blaine needed to leave before Karofsky tried to do something stupid like getting him to wash his hair.
“You should wash your hair!”
Oh my god! Evacuate! “I think I need to go now.”
“No way. It’s a great idea. Here I am spilling my guts to you like you’re my damn pastor or something - who would probably tell my parents to send me away if he knew I had, well, you know, one of you guys at my place.” His face was briefly shadowed before alcoholic stupidity took over once again. “Anyways. The hair crap - needs to go. Come on.”
Blaines brain was still trying to work out what the hell Karofsky was talking about when a firm hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the sofa. Both boys had a moment of vertigo - the kind you get when you don’t quite realize just how drunk you are until you stand and realize the floor is moving - before Karofsky staggered them both to the bathroom and pushed Blaine into the tub, clothes and all.
“I don’t have fancy shampoo.”
“What?”
The other boy looked far too serious for what Blaine had just heard come out of his mouth. “I don’t have fancy shampoo, I know you gay dudes like fancy stuff, but all I have is the store brand.”
“I - uh, I guess ... yeah.” Did that even make sense?
Karofsky nodded gravely before turning on the shower and drenching Blaine with icy cold water until his shocked and outraged curses could have woke the dead. Karofsky managed to somehow figure out the difference between hot and cold which was a miracle because Blaine couldn’t even see straight to get out of the tub. The rest of the shower was a blur but Blaine vaguely remembered they both started laughing hysterically at one point and he couldn’t remember how they got out of the bathroom but he ended up in one of Karofskys old jerseys and sweatpants because his uniform was soaked through. For some reason around that point he may or may not have started crying but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what about, something about hairgel and uniforms, but it was all kind of a blur. Eventually he passed out on the floor next to Karofskys already snoring self.
****
The next morning saw Dave awake before Blaine. Awake was probably the wrong word. He had clawed himself into a semi-conscious state at which point he realized he was in hell and hell was called ‘hangover’. What the hell had happened last night? What day was it? Where was he?
A soft murmur brought him back to reality and he turned his head to take in the very unusual sigh of another guy sleeping beside him. His brain didn’t immediately compute who the guy was, all he knew was he was strangely content with the sight of him which was pretty unusual... god, he hoped he hadn’t gotten drunk and picked up a male hooker. His allowance wouldn’t cover that.
Soon enough his brain caught up with his eyes and Dave recognized the boy as Blaine, but a very different looking Blaine than he was used to; laying is his stomach with his mouth opened slightly and his hair out of its gel prison for once. The guys hair was really fluffy. Not just fluffy but curly - like a sheep. Why did Blaine look like a sheep? It was kind of cute and before he could give it any thought his hand was already petting the fluffy head, tousling the curls and getting a childish sort of amusement the way they bounced around. It was around this point that his brain started to clear a little and he realized that he was sleeping with another dude and petting his hair which was very gay.
What the hell had happened again?
Dave had a very vague recollection of a shower which made him very uncomfortable to think about what might have happened. Blaine wasn’t wearing his uniform; he was wearing a very oversized jersey and sweats that Dave recognized as his own.
Oh! My! God!
They couldn’t have.
No. It was impossible.
Good god. First Kurt, then this guy. Clearly he was under some sort of gay attack. He needed to get Blaine out of there before his dad or mom wandered into the den. There was no way he could explain why there was a curly haired sheep boy wearing his clothes and sleeping with him. Well, he could explain but the answer wouldn’t impress them at all and then he would have to deal with his mom crying and his dad yelling and his friends knowing and then his life would be over and he would burn in hell for all eternity!
“Karofsky!” Dave flinched, looking at Blaine who had his tired, bloodshot eyes trained on him. “It’s ok.”
No it wasn’t. It was never going to be ok. His life was falling apart and Kurt and Blaine were tearing him apart piece by piece. He didn’t want this. He had never asked for any of this so why, why was this happening to him? God, he must still be drunk. He always was a maudlin drunk.
“Karofsky,” Blaine said, a little more gently.
“What.” His voice sounded like he had been eating sandpaper.
“You don’t have to be scared.” Blaine reached out a hand and grabbed Daves own. And, for some reason, that was enough.
They both eventually drifted off again.
****
The next morning was a disaster as both boys woke up realizing they were late for school, and, in Blaines case, he didn’t get back to the dorms so somebody would have noticed and he was sure to get a stern talking to about setting an example which would go against his record of being an exemplary student and role model.
The morning rush was frantic due in part to the hangovers and the fact that Blaine had to be extra quiet and sneak out, but not after he had slipped back into his wrinkled and slightly damp and musty smelling uniform and slapping some gel Karofsky had laying around in the bathroom in his hair before beating a quick retreat.
It was, of course, and unspoken rule that Blaine would be back again on Sunday and they would both do their best to never mention that night again and the fact that that they had woken up hand in hand and with Karofskys nose buried in Blaines fluffy hair.
After all, it didn’t mean anything.
They both liked Kurt.
****
Kurt knew something was up. He could smell it and it smelled like alcohol. Beer to be exact. Cheap beer. The sort of beer Blaine would normally never be caught dead drinking.
It wasn’t his intention to spy. He wasn’t one of those clingy, jealous types. He was just concerned, that’s all. Blaine was acting differently, he had missed out on practice for their duet (a stirring mash up of ‘Shake Ya Ass’ and Celine Dions ‘My Heart Will Go On’, Kurt couldn’t shake the feeling that that particular song was doomed to failure but that’s what happened when you made your decisions based on a hat draw, admittedly one of Kurt’s less intelligent ideas).
The point was, something was up and he was going to find out what.
The most obvious conclusion was that Blaine had a boyfriend but Kurt immediately scratched that idea. Blaine would have mentioned a boyfriend, he was far too honourable to play Kurt like that. They may not have been dating but Blaine seemed interested, and Kurt was interested, and they did seem to flirt a lot, not that Kurt had much practice flirting with someone who actually reciprocated but if Disney had taught him anything it’s that when two people made a connection like they did they were destined to be together. Disney had never steered him wrong before ... except with the part about step-mothers, Carole was everything he could ever want in a mother. He supposed Disney was allowed to be wrong once or twice.
It didn’t take long for him to discover a pattern. Sunday nights, for three weeks Blaine always seemed to disappear early Sunday evening and reappearing late Sunday night, usually smelling of beer and looking far too pleased with himself.
It wasn’t Kurts intention to follow Blaine. Actually, it was nothing more than a coincidence that a few weeks after Kurt had confronted Blaine he was driving back to Lima Sunday afternoon and spotted Blaines car parked in a non-descript neighbourhood that Kurt had driven by countless times and had never paid much attention to. What could Blaine possibly be doing in Lima, in this particular neighbourhood?
Kurt made a split second decision and turned his car into a side avenue.
He couldn’t tell which house Blaine might have gone into but, by a random stroke of luck there he was, coming out of a small ranch style house that was quite a ways away from where his car had been parked, staggering slightly, and grabbing a pack of beer out of the passenger’s seat of his car. Kurts eyebrows rose when Blaine walked into the house without knocking, seemingly quite at home.
Kurt knew he should go. He should get back into his car, go home and trust that Blaine wasn’t getting into trouble or was meeting a secret boyfriend or ... or ... oh, who the hell was Kurt kidding, he was already hiding in the bushes like some sort of criminal and probably ruining his clothes in the process. He slowly lifted his head up to look into the living room window. It was empty and dark. Slowly Kurt made his way around the house, peeking into windows and finding the house conspicuously free of occupants. It wasn’t until he noticed a tiny window by his feet that appeared to be the only source of light in the entire house did Kurt find Blaine.
In a rare moment where he completely forgot about his clothes Kurt got flat on his belly on the grass to look inside and felt his stomach turn to ice.
Blaine was there, flipping through what looked like a mens fashion magazine and swirling a bottle of beer absentmindedly before consulting his companion about something, pointing at the magazine. The other boy simply shrugged and turned back to the TV where a football game was playing and Kurt suddenly knew who this mystery person was who Blaine was missing practice and turning into a delinquent for.
Dave Karofsky.
Kurt felt a bitter weight settle in his stomach and tears stinging his eyes as he watched the two companionably chatting, so at ease in each others company. How could Blaine do this to him? How could he sit there, smiling at that monster as though they were best friends? Did he forget what Karofsky did to him, how he tormented him and hurt him and scared him until he had no choice but to run? Kurt wanted to run away -- but he also wanted to go down there and ask Blaine why.
He did neither.
It was as if he was glued to the scene. The saddest part was, he wasn’t just hurt, he was jealous. They looked happy and at ease and when Karofsky turned the page of Blaines magazine and pointed to something Kurt couldn’t see, that familiarity stung. He had known Blaine for months, had sung with him, flirted with him, danced with him but there was still something missing, something that Blaine gave to Karofsky but not to Kurt.
His vision blurred with tears that he refused to let fall.
It hurt. And worse, so much worse when he saw Blaine turn to Karofsky, kneeling on the ratty sofa and planting a soft kiss on the other boys lips.
Kurt ran. A sob escaped his lips as he dashed to his car, slamming the door and driving away, not caring where, just knowing he needed to get away. His tears made driving impossible for long and Kurt was forced to park his car. He sat there, alone. Truly alone, more so than he’d ever been before. At least before he hadn’t had his hopes up, hadn’t really believed that he could have someone for his own, until Blaine - to have all that taken away left him feeling more lost than he’d ever felt before.
How stupid was he to think it would work out?
Of course Blaine didn’t want him. He was stupid to ever think differently. He was short and fruity and weak and he sounded like a girl. Why would Blaine want a coward like him who couldn’t even stand up to a stupid jock, who ran away hoping like an idiot that Prince Charming would sweep him off his feet.
How could he ever face Blaine knowing how pathetic he must have seemed?
Kurt stayed there for a long time, crying and berating himself before he took a deep breath and began the ride back home. He just wanted to see his dad. A hug from his dad always made his problems seem smaller and he really needed that.
****
It was a good three weeks before the subject of that night was brought up again.
It began with a question.
“Do you think Kurt is happy?”
Blaine looked up from his magazine, surprised. “Why do you ask?”
Karofsky shrugged uncomfortably. As much progress as they had made Karofsky was still hesitant to admit his feelings for Kurt. “He never looked happy, towards the end there. Is he happier at that school of yours?”
“-No. He’s not. He misses his friends, he doesn’t talk about it but I can see it.”
“Oh. So, uh, do you think he’d ever come back. Y’know, to McKinley? Those Glee Club losers, they don’t look right without the lady boy.”
Blaine shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “I don’t know. He wants to go back but he’s scared.”
“Of me.” It wasn’t a question so Blaine didn’t give a reply. They both knew the answer anyways. Yes. Kurt was terrified of Karofsky and he wouldn’t go back unless something was done. That got Blaine thinking. “I kind of fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t have to agree with me.”
“Sorry. Anyways, if you’re so broken up about it why don’t you just apologize? I think Kurt - well, I don’t know if he would accept your apology but it would be a start. And this, what we’re doing, you’ve been getting better about talking and being open about yourself. I think what we have here is working.”
Karofsky looked straight ahead at the game, not seeing it but not daring to look at Blaine. “And what do we have?”
“Friendship.”
It looked like Karofsky was struggling with himself over the answer and Blaine let him, not in any hurry to make the other boy talk. “Friends - guy friends - don’t usually hold hands. Or take showers together. Or cry about hairgel and uniforms to another guy.”
Damn. Blaine had kind of hoped he had imagined that part. “Well ... maybe more than friends,” he suggested cautiously.
“You like Kurt.”
“Yeah, so do you.”
They both went silent, not knowing how to continue with that strange line of conversation. It was true. Blaine had feelings for Kurt, hell, he really liked Kurt but he didn’t think the other boy was ready for that. He was so unhappy and reserved, even when they were having fun there was a shadow hanging over him and Blaine didn’t want to make things worse even if Kurt wouldn’t see it that way. And he, in turn, was never fully able to let his hair down with Kurt (literally and figuratively) always mindful of how fragile he was and that Kurt had unofficially appointed him as his guardian angel. He was afraid of screwing everything up and Kurt really just needed a friend, not a boyfriend, so Blaine put his own feelings aside.
And that was that until - suddenly - Karofsky.
How that had happened he wasn’t even sure but when he woke up with Karofskys warm hand around his own and the other boys face in his hair it was like a light had gone off in his head. Karofsky, completely unsuspectingly, had torn down his walls and bulldozed himself a place in Blaines heart. He wasn’t sure if it had happened during the shower when he had scrubbed off Blains hairgel (something that he wasn’t sure Karofsky realized how significant it was for Blaine) or when he woke up that morning and realized that Daves arms around him felt ... right.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wanted Kurt and now he wanted Karofsky and he didn’t want to have to choose because he knew they both liked him back even if neither one had admitted it out loud before and if he choose between them one of them would be hurt. The thought of hurting either one of them, both so fragile and uncertain in their own ways, made him feel sick. He didn’t know what to do.
Eventually Karofsky pointed out that they had run out of beer and Blaine had an excuse to get some fresh air.
The beer made him stagger slightly as he made his way to the car and got out a pack of beer and the latest edition of GQ, something he had been meaning to look through but hadn’t had the time.
When he got back they both cracked open a bottle, clinked them together and turned their attentions respectively to the game and the magazine.
“What do you think of this scarf?” Karofsky briefly looked over and shrugged. “I was thinking about getting one like it but I can’t decide on a colour. I like blue but that’s not in this season.” He turned the page.
Karofsky reached over and turned the page back and pointed at a dark maroon bag. “This colour. You look good in red.”
Blaine froze. “It’s called maroon.” He said without thinking.
“Whatever. Hey, what are you doing?”
Blaine didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t thinking for once, just acting. He knelt on the sofa and leaned his body over until his lips met the other boys. Blaine tensed up, hoping that he hadn’t just ruined everything but, to his surprise, Karofsky didn’t freak out or throw him off, he just put a hand on Blaines waist and gently pushed him off. Karofsky was blushing furiously, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Sorry.”
That pretty much put an end to the night and Blaine was seriously regretting his actions until, just as he was leaving, Karofsky put a clumsy hand on his shoulder, turned him around and gave him a rough peck on the cheek before slamming the door closed.
Blaine grinned. The guy was no Casanova but despite his lack of grace and charm the kissed cheek tingled pleasantly. Maybe there was some small hope for them after all. There was just one missing piece to the puzzle.