Sleepover
Title: Sleepover
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Klaine
Rating: PG (innocent drunkenness)
Word Count: 600
Synopsis: Post-Rachel-house-party-extravaganza, a very inebriated Blaine spends the night at Kurt's.
In a matter of minutes Blaine has made himself very comfortably at home, tangling himself up in Kurt's bed sheets and burying his head in the down pillows. "This…this is so, so soft," he sighs, his eyelids fluttering.
"…thanks?" Kurt says, even though he's pretty sure that Pier 1 Imports should be taking the credit for the quality of his pillows. He slips into the bathroom and quickly changes out of his slacks - still damp with the Bacardi that Santana had inadvertently spilled all over him - and pulls on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, not bothering to change his shirt.
"Kurttttttt," Blaine murmurs, his slurred words muffled from underneath the covers. "I need you to…to know…" Blaine giggles, side-tracked, and rolls onto his back. "It's a ten after four and I'm a little drunk and I need you now," he sings, slightly off-key. "You know, Kurt, Kurt, I really don't do this."
"Serenade guys with botched Lady Antebellum songs?"
"Nooooooooo," Blaine laughs, flattening a palm over his face. "I don't drink like this. Not always. Not…not ever, really. Really."
Kurt climbs into the other side of the bed and folds his arms behind his head. "Okay," he concedes. He's still a little buzzed himself, but next to Blaine he has the sobriety of a saint.
"I don't! And I've never…well." He sighs.
"What?"
"You knowwww," Blaine smirks, dragging out his words. "Kissed a girl."
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Really? Never? Because it looked like you knew what you were doing."
Blaine rolls over, and his mouth is suddenly inches from Kurt's shoulder. "Nope," he giggles. "You have?"
Kurt can feel the heat of Blaine's breath against his arm and shivers. "Uh, yeah," he says. "In second grade I was 'married' to this girl Stephanie, and we kissed."
"That doesn't count," Blaine scoffs. "I mean…I mean, kissed kissed."
"Well…there was also Brittany…"
"Brittany?" Blaine says, his slur so palpable that it comes out sounding like Brithany. "Blonde Brittany? Brittany who was, like, mostly naked, and made out with that - that really cute guy, what's his - "
"Sam. He's straight, trust me. And yes, that Brittany, which is a story that I'll tell you when you're eventually sober."
Blaine seems content with this, and he lays his head against Kurt's arm. He makes this noise from deep within his throat that's halfway between a purr and a sigh, and his long eyelashes flutter back and forth between consciousness and sleep. Kurt knows that he's staring, but he doesn't really care about playing coy at this point, because right now everything about Blaine - from his disheveled cardigan to his messy curls to his endless peals of drunk giggling - is so damn endearing.
"I like you drunk," Kurt smiles, pulling a blanket over them and turning out the light.
"Then…I can just be drunk, like, all the time. All day, every day. And then you'll like me all the time. Right?" Blaine's words begin to string together into incoherent mumblings, muffled by the fabric of Kurt's shirt.
Kurt tries not to laugh at the thought of Blaine doing mundane, everyday things while drunk. He shakes his head and sighs. "No, I think it's safe to say that that would be disastrous. Hilarious, but disastrous. Besides…I like you sober, too."
It's quiet for a moment, and Kurt assumes that Blaine has finally fallen asleep. He closes his eyes and tries to drift off.
"I like you too, Kurt," Blaine mumbles, barely audible.
Kurt smiles and keeps his eyes closed, blinded by the fireworks exploding across the backs of his eyelids.
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Klaine
Rating: PG (innocent drunkenness)
Word Count: 600
Synopsis: Post-Rachel-house-party-extravaganza, a very inebriated Blaine spends the night at Kurt's.
In a matter of minutes Blaine has made himself very comfortably at home, tangling himself up in Kurt's bed sheets and burying his head in the down pillows. "This…this is so, so soft," he sighs, his eyelids fluttering.
"…thanks?" Kurt says, even though he's pretty sure that Pier 1 Imports should be taking the credit for the quality of his pillows. He slips into the bathroom and quickly changes out of his slacks - still damp with the Bacardi that Santana had inadvertently spilled all over him - and pulls on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, not bothering to change his shirt.
"Kurttttttt," Blaine murmurs, his slurred words muffled from underneath the covers. "I need you to…to know…" Blaine giggles, side-tracked, and rolls onto his back. "It's a ten after four and I'm a little drunk and I need you now," he sings, slightly off-key. "You know, Kurt, Kurt, I really don't do this."
"Serenade guys with botched Lady Antebellum songs?"
"Nooooooooo," Blaine laughs, flattening a palm over his face. "I don't drink like this. Not always. Not…not ever, really. Really."
Kurt climbs into the other side of the bed and folds his arms behind his head. "Okay," he concedes. He's still a little buzzed himself, but next to Blaine he has the sobriety of a saint.
"I don't! And I've never…well." He sighs.
"What?"
"You knowwww," Blaine smirks, dragging out his words. "Kissed a girl."
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Really? Never? Because it looked like you knew what you were doing."
Blaine rolls over, and his mouth is suddenly inches from Kurt's shoulder. "Nope," he giggles. "You have?"
Kurt can feel the heat of Blaine's breath against his arm and shivers. "Uh, yeah," he says. "In second grade I was 'married' to this girl Stephanie, and we kissed."
"That doesn't count," Blaine scoffs. "I mean…I mean, kissed kissed."
"Well…there was also Brittany…"
"Brittany?" Blaine says, his slur so palpable that it comes out sounding like Brithany. "Blonde Brittany? Brittany who was, like, mostly naked, and made out with that - that really cute guy, what's his - "
"Sam. He's straight, trust me. And yes, that Brittany, which is a story that I'll tell you when you're eventually sober."
Blaine seems content with this, and he lays his head against Kurt's arm. He makes this noise from deep within his throat that's halfway between a purr and a sigh, and his long eyelashes flutter back and forth between consciousness and sleep. Kurt knows that he's staring, but he doesn't really care about playing coy at this point, because right now everything about Blaine - from his disheveled cardigan to his messy curls to his endless peals of drunk giggling - is so damn endearing.
"I like you drunk," Kurt smiles, pulling a blanket over them and turning out the light.
"Then…I can just be drunk, like, all the time. All day, every day. And then you'll like me all the time. Right?" Blaine's words begin to string together into incoherent mumblings, muffled by the fabric of Kurt's shirt.
Kurt tries not to laugh at the thought of Blaine doing mundane, everyday things while drunk. He shakes his head and sighs. "No, I think it's safe to say that that would be disastrous. Hilarious, but disastrous. Besides…I like you sober, too."
It's quiet for a moment, and Kurt assumes that Blaine has finally fallen asleep. He closes his eyes and tries to drift off.
"I like you too, Kurt," Blaine mumbles, barely audible.
Kurt smiles and keeps his eyes closed, blinded by the fireworks exploding across the backs of his eyelids.