notthetoothfairy - Tumblr blog

notthetoothfairy · 5 years

Text

Alright with You

What is this... a fic?!?!?!?! Yes, you’re reading that right. I’m a bit late but it was @a-simple-rainbow‘s birthday yesterday so I had to honor tradition and do some writing! Happy birthday, my lovely fandom wife! <3 You deserve the world and more, so I apologize that this is just a silly fic and not the world and more. :P

(I’ll upload it on AO3 later, right now it’s late and I need my sleeeeeep)

Disclaimer: This is unbeta’ed and probably poorly written LOL

Inspired by this post

Kurt hates parties. If it weren’t for Quinn’s endless pestering, he probably wouldn’t have shown his face at all.

He wrinkles his nose as he watches a group of jocks start a burping competition.

Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t have come if Quinn hadn’t been so adamant – or rich, for that matter, considering that she promised to buy him lunch for the rest of the school year if he drove her to this one party. The party of the year, apparently. Kurt couldn’t care less about the ranking of this drunken slobberfest they call a party, but he’s not exactly loaded, so the prospect of free lunch was a damn good selling point. Which Quinn knew, obviously.

Also, quite obvious: She ditched him about two seconds into the party, probably to break up or create yet another Glee club love triangle… who even knows. Not Kurt, that’s for sure. But, hey, keeping him company wasn’t part of the deal. Quinn’s objective was to enjoy the party. Kurt is well aware that she won’t be able to do that when all he is likely to provide is snarky commentary.

Ugh, it’s almost like he cares, which is bizarre because this is McKinley’s resident ex-cheerleader barbie Quinn Fabray. If he continues at this rate, he’ll be befriending Rachel Berry next.

Shuddering at the thought, he turns to the drinks table, where he is immediately targeted by Santana Lopez and her signature sly grin.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” she asks, faking delight. “What’s your poison tonight, hm?”

With an eyeroll, Kurt makes to push past her. “Not my first rodeo, Satan, I know better than to drink one of your hellish creations.” She blocks his path. “Ugh, you have got to be kidding me. Just hand me one of those cups.”

“What’s the matter, did daddy not allow you to drink alcohol? Or did Quinn Fa-baby momma make you her designated driver?”

Kurt glares at her, and much to his chagrin, Santana’s face just lights up even more.

“Aww, she did! You skanks are just too precious. So… unskanky,” she coos.

Kurt’s growing more annoyed by the second. He hates that Santana is still as unimpressed by his act as ever. The rest of the school has learned to just leave him alone when he suddenly showed up with piercings, bright neon streaks in his hair and a new give-zero-fucks attitude. But Santana is a tougher nut to crack.

He narrows his eyes a bit more for good measure, but she waves him off and reaches behind her to retrieve a light blue solo cup. “There you go, sunshine. Pop or water?”

“Water,” Kurt gets out through gritted teeth. He hates the sugary sweetness of coke and the like, and with water he can at least pretend he’s drinking clear spirits. Or maybe he should do that and just forget about the driving, just like Quinn forgot about him.

But deep down he knows he’ll regret it if he’s not there to take her home, or if his dad figures out he was too drunk to drive. Getting upset with Kurt is way too unhealthy for his heart. Even rebellion has its limits, and Kurt will always choose his dad over his reputation.

He sips his water unenthusiastically, trying to avoid both the dancefloor and the beer pong corner, which results in him creepily staying in a corner near the drinks table, from where at least he can engage in his two favorite sports – people-watching, and, more importantly, people-judging.

He is so enthralled in watching Rachel stealing pathetic glances at Kurt’s step-brother Finn Hudson every two seconds while she’s fake-flirting with two older students that Kurt only notices after a few minutes that she is holding a cup with a very untypical color. He frowns. Bright green, really? Is she that tipsy?

The thing is, Kurt could swear he saw Mercedes Jones sport a pink cup earlier, and everyone knows that if something is available in pink, Rachel will make sure that she has it. Kurt is still traumatized from that one time he saw her bedroom.

He looks over to the drinks station and spots tags next to the towers of cups. The colors are labels. Pink apparently means “taken”, which definitely explains why this is the one time Rachel decided to forgo it. And green is – ah, yeah, “it’s complicated”. Kurt grins. Sure, Rachel. Should have gone with light blue. Single AF, the sign reads.

Kurt tenses uncomfortably as he looks down at his own cup.

Blue.

Santana, that cunning, manipulative devil. Of course she’d be the one who doesn’t buy the rumors Quinn spreads about Kurt’s conquests. She knows Kurt hasn’t so much as touched another guy. Great. He’s gonna have to do something about this. Change the cup to… purple maybe? DTF – down to fuck… ugh, not the best choice but probably what an actually skanky version of Kurt would go for. It’s not like McKinley has an overflow of gay guys who would take him up on the offer. And even if there were gay guys at this party, it’s not like he’s much of a hook-up prospect. His painfully pathetic attempts to get laid at Scandals taught him that. God, maybe he should just grab a full bottle of tequila and kiss this night goodbye.

“Ready to party?” someone shouts next to Kurt. He almost scoffs at them before he realizes it’s Blondie-in-a-Bottle Sam Evans, and he is not talking to Kurt, but to someone next to him, who can only be… ah, yes, Blaine.

Blaine Anderson, the transfer student, who is a bit of a nerd with his gelled hair, dorky colorful bowties and his Star Wars lunch box. Blaine, who may be the only person at the school who doesn’t treat Kurt differently, because – well, because he didn’t know Kurt pre-skank. But also because he just doesn’t seem to mind. Kurt has been paired with him on an assignment once or twice, and if Kurt is completely honest with himself, those were the only times it actively pained him to keep up his tough act. He might have even dialed it down just for Blaine.

As much as he wants to deny it, Kurt has a bit of a crush. Which is not cool. Not cool at all. Unskanky, Santana would say.

He watches Blaine shake and nod his head simultaneously at Sam’s question as they approach the drinks table. Kurt sighs and decides to wait until after they’re done there to change his cup color. He can totally wait for his turn. It’s not like anyone is going to talk to him if he puts his bitchy face on. Which, of course, he has practiced to perfection. So, Creepy Watching and Judging Round Number Two it is.

Getting back into it, Kurt watches Artie Abrams clumsily but somehow successfully butter up to Brittany Pierce, even though they are surrounded by a bunch of very interested, suddenly very pissed off football players.

He chuckles at the way Santana tries to not look affected at all but ends up glaring at everyone attempting to talk to Brittany. Santana thinks she has Kurt figured out? Ha. He’s one step ahead of her. At least she doesn’t know about his pathetic cru-

Damn. He was so lost in thought that he missed the perfect opportunity to slip past Sam and Blaine just as they turned away. Now there’s more people at the stand and as Sam and Blaine move away from the table, they come to a halt right next to Kurt. Shit. How is he supposed to act like he didn’t notice them now?

“Hey, can you hold this?” Sam asks Blaine. “I’ll just be a sec.” He hands Blaine his cup, and Kurt can’t help how his eyes widen when he sees the color. Pink?! Since when is Sam Evans dating someone? Kurt wonders if Quinn knows about it. She usually knows what everyone and their mother are up to.

Blaine stands there awkwardly, and since his blondie sidekick is gone, Kurt dares to give him a once-over. Damn, it should be illegal to look that cute in chinos. Kurt puts his cup to his lips to hide a smile behind the rim. It would have been a smart choice if he hadn’t simultaneously spotted the other cup Blaine is holding. The color makes Kurt almost choke on his water. Audibly.

Blaine turns to him, concerned. “Woah, Kurt, are you okay?”

Damn that purple cup.

“’m fine, thanks” Kurt manages, coughing awkwardly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Water in the wrong pipe, I guess.” He pauses, grimacing. “Tequila, I mean.”

“Right. Tequila…” Blaine smiles. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t see your Navigator parked down the street.”

Kurt feels a shiver run down his spine at the thought that Blaine might have kept an eye out for his car outside. That’s just… pathetic, Kurt. Get a grip, he tells himself.

“Whatever.” He drawls the word for good measure, trying desperately to nail the tone somewhere between not caring and playful teasing. With a nod to Blaine’s purple cup, he says, “Interesting choice.”

“Rum and coke.” Blaine shrugs. “Pretty classic, I’d say?”

Kurt bites his lip, releasing it quickly. “The color, I mean.”

With a blush, Blaine glances down at his drink. “Oh, I actually would have preferred pink.” He clears his throat. “But Sam poured them wrong by accident, and he’s driving, so I ended up with this one instead.”

Kurt’s careful to not choke on his water this time. So Sam’s not the taken one, Blaine is… what?! Then again, figures. He’s a transfer student. A cute one, at that. Fresh meat and all… McKinley’s singles must go crazy over Blaine. Kurt wonders if maybe he’s misread Blaine’s sexuality.

“Right,” he mutters. Santana couldn’t have picked his cup color any better. Single AF indeed. Fuck this party. “Well, I- I should go see what Quinn’s up to.” He clears his throat. “I’m her DD.”

Blaine blinks, seeming surprised. “Oh… sure.” He shoots Kurt a small grin. “Enjoy the party.”

Kurt scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“Oh. Okay. Uhm… bye then.”

Blaine looks taken aback, and Kurt could smack himself. His stupid temper. He makes an abrupt turn, trying to push the thought of having offended Blaine out of his mind. He shouldn’t be caring about things like dating anyhow. His reputation is on the line. He breathes, one heavy breath in and one out, weaving his way through a sea of hammered people.

He finds Quinn eventually – making out with someone from the swim team in one of the house’s upstairs bedrooms. Of course. Kurt sighs, closing the door behind him when she tells him to “get the fuck out”. As he turns back to the hallway, he almost collides with Mercedes. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sneaking off to be alone?” she asks. Kurt can’t decipher whether she sounds snarky or hurt. Out of all the people he’s cut off these past few months, he definitely regrets Mercedes the most.

“Not exactly.” Kurt shrugs. “Just looking for Quinn.”

Mercedes hums in reply. They both do the awkward dance of looking down at their hands and then back up, only to look back down. Kurt’s eyes zero in on the cup in Mercedes’ hands.

He clears his throat. “You’re dating someone?”

For a split second, Mercedes’ face turns red. It’s a good look on her, Kurt thinks, but before he can say anything, her face hardens.

“None of your business,” she says sharply.

“No, no, I know,” Kurt says, holding up his hands. He can’t help but sigh a little. “It’s just…”

“I know.” Mercedes gulps. “I thought you’d be the first to know, too.”

“Mercedes…” Kurt reaches out a hand but pulls it back at the last second, hugging himself instead. Well, this party sucks already, maybe he should just roll with the punches. “I miss you, you know?”

He’s met with another raised eyebrow.

“I know, I don’t show it,” he says hastily. “I never wanted it to be this way, though.”

“I just don’t think any of this is really necessary,” Mercedes says. “We had your back.”

“Well, it wasn’t… there’s- there’s things you don’t know,” Kurt mutters. Karofsky bullying him was one thing. Karofsky threatening to kill him if he told anyone he was gay… very different. “I swear I’d tell you if I could.”

Mercedes bites her lip and smiles a little.

“It’s Sam,” she whispers, leaning closer.

Kurt frowns. “What?”

She holds up her cup. “Sam and I…”

“What?!”

“It’s not that unlikely,” she says, defensive.

Kurt shakes his head quickly. “Uh, no, it’s just – I thought he had a purple cup earlier.”

“Nope.” Mercedes grins. “Definitely pink. I saw him with it just a second ago.”

But it was an accident, Kurt thinks. Blaine said the pink was for him.

“Oh, well… I’m happy for you,” Kurt says, shooting Mercedes his most sincere smile. “Truly.”

“Thanks, Kurt,” she says. “We could hang out sometime maybe…?”

Kurt takes a step back. “I… maybe.”

There’s that sad look again. Kurt closes his eyes to drown it out. Once he feels marginally better, he opens them, bracing himself for more sadness, but – Mercedes is gone.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Maybe he can’t openly be Mercedes’ friend anymore – but the least he can do is make sure her boyfriend isn’t being a dick to her. He almost races down the stairs back into the living room.

Even more people dancing now. Kurt scans the room for any sign of Sam or Blaine. He growls when he spots them. Of course – they are dancing. He tries not to watch Blaine shimmy his hips to the music, and promptly fails. Damn that boy.

He stomps over, pushing himself between them and staring Sam down.

“You better not hurt her,” he hisses.

Sam’s eyes go huge. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kurt narrows his eyes. “I know your cup was supposed to be purple. Blaine told me. You’re more than lucky to get a chance with someone like Mercedes. If you-”

Sam’s eyes skirt around frantically as he steps closer and tries to shut Kurt up. “Ssssh, what the fuck, don’t tell-”

“Oh, don’t want her to find out you’re on the lookout? Is that why you so conveniently switched cup colors, huh?!”

Blaine dances around Kurt and comes up next to Sam, looking confused and a little dizzy. Kurt honestly almost forgot he was behind him the entire time.

“Sam, ‘s Kurt still angry at me?” he asks, his words slurred.

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, he’s angry at me.”

“What’d chu do?”

“Switch cup colors,” Sam mutters. He turns back to Kurt. “Kurt, man, I swear this is not what you think it is.” He inches closer, and if Kurt wasn’t so focused on defending Mercedes, he’d find it cute how Blaine instinctively does the same, almost touching Kurt’s shoulder. Voice lowered, Sam continues, “Mercedes and I are keeping it on the down low for a while.”

“Yeah, right.” Kurt laughs in disbelief. “Which is why you’re both sporting pink?”

“Well, we’re not telling anyone who exactly- that’s beside the point, though.” Sam sighs. “If I was going to cheat on her, why would my cup say that I’m taken, Sherlock?”

Kurt blinks. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Where does it say that?” Blaine asks, looking down at Sam’s cup.

Kurt replays what Blaine told him earlier in his head. He wanted pink, but Sam switched them. He didn’t say anything about the meaning…

“Blaine doesn’t know about the color codes,” Kurt concludes.

Sam shoots him a grin. “I was just messing with him a little. I knew you were going to-” He blinks quickly. “Uh, forget that part.”

Kurt tries to ignore the way his heartbeat speeds up a little at that. What is Sam’s plan? And does it mean Blaine is single after all? And why does he care oh-so-much?

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Blaine asks, alternating between staring at Kurt and staring at Sam.

Kurt gives Sam the sideeye before turning to Blaine. “Blaine, your cup color means you’re DTF.”

“What’s DTF?” Blaine asks immediately.

“How much has he had to drink?” Kurt asks at the same time as Sam says, “Down to fuck.”

Blaine whips around to face Sam. “You told him I’m down to fuck?!”

Sam breaks out into laughter. “I didn’t but you just did…” He turns to Kurt and winks. “I think I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna go find Mercedes.”

“Sam, wait!” Kurt says, cursing his helpless voice. God, what is he going to with this info now? Sam doesn’t turn around.

Blaine stares after Sam before turning to Kurt. “Kurt, if Sam leaves me here alone, can you drive me home? I could break into a car and try it myself but… I think I’m too-” He sways a little on his feet. “Tipsy.”

“Ya think?” Kurt huffs out a laugh, reaching out his hand to steady Blaine. “Okay, first things first. Have some of my water. And, uh… let’s go somewhere outside to get you sobered up, okay?”

Blaine’s face lights up at that. He reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt withdraws, looking around nervously. He tries to ignore Blaine’s furrowed eyebrows and his pout, instead pushing him through the crowd by the shoulders. When he’s finally got them outside in the miraculously empty backyard, he lets himself breathe. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Blaine watches him, surprisingly attentive in his drunken state.

“Do you hate me?” he asks timidly.

“Wh- what?” Kurt stutters.

Blaine looks down at his feet. “I never know what to think with you.”

“I don’t hate you, Blaine,” Kurt says, stepping closer. “Drink some more water.”

Kurt takes the pink cup from Blaine before he can raise it to his mouth.

“The other cup. That’s your rum and coke.”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, and gulps down the contents of Kurt’s cup, holding it with both hands like a child. Kurt bites back a smile. Why is he even cuter when he’s drunk? When he’s done, Blaine holds the cup up in Kurt’s face. “So, what does blue mean?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Single as fuck.”

“Are you?” Blaine asks curiously, eyes flitting between Kurt’s face and the cup.

Kurt tries to hide his blush by pushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. “I guess I am.”

“Oh, alright.” Blaine gives a slight nod. “Cool.”

Kurt can’t help but laugh at the way he tries to act nonchalant. “Yeah? That alright with you?”, he asks.

“Yeah…” Blaine drops his eyes and then shoots them back up at Kurt with an intensity that makes Kurt’s knees go weak. “Very.”

“Blaine…” he breathes out, hyperaware of how close their faces are. He clears his throat, looking around for something to do. He decides on setting their cups down on a nearby windowsill. His eyes linger on the pink one.

“Why’d you want that color?” he asks Blaine, putting his hands in his pocket now that he has nothing to hold.

“Hm?” Blaine follows Kurt’s line of sight. “Oh. Uh.” His eyes find Kurt’s again, then flicker up to Kurt’s hair. “I just really like pink.”

Kurt can’t find it in himself to hide his blush this time. “Oh… alright.”

“Yeah?” Blaine smiles. “Alright with you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kurt laughs. Throwing all caution in the wind, he adds, “I’m not the one who admitted he’s down to fuck.”

Blaine inhales sharply. “I can’t believe Sam told you that.”

“Actually, you did,” Kurt says, tilting his head.

“Oh god, I did, didn’t I?” Blaine asks, looking like he’s trying to read Kurt’s face. “And… is that alright with you?”

Kurt wants to say something witty, or just confirm, or something – but his brain short-circuits and what he ends up blurting is, “I’m a virgin!”

“Oh, well, I mean… me too… it’s not like I meant right now…” Blaine mutters, visibly flustered. His face goes all red. It’s so. Damn. Cute. “I just…”

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to focus his thoughts. “It’s alright with me,” he says. “Maybe not right now, but…”

“Gotcha.” Blaine exhales, and Kurt can feel his breath on his face. How did they get so close again? Blaine laughs nervously. “Wow, I’m feeling very sober all of a sudden.”

“Yeah?” Kurt feels a rush of heat streaming through his body. “Funny. I feel kinda drunk.”

They’re both silent for a beat, looking at each other, before they lean in at the same time. Kurt’s lips land on Blaine’s a little off-center but they adjust as Blaine pulls him in, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of Kurt’s head. Kurt makes a muffled noise, grabbing Blaine’s shirt on both sides and holding on for dear life, dragging Blaine closer, kissing him harder. He wasn’t prepared for how good this would feel. He wasn’t prepared for how much he would want to-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kurt gasps out. “Fuck. I-”

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asks, concerned.

“I’m not… we’re not…” Kurt sighs. “This is gonna be a problem. We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“I’m… well… ugh. I have a lot to lose, let’s put it that way,” Kurt says grimly.

Blaine lets his hands fall to his sides, his body deflating.

“Don’t be mad,” Kurt pleads.

“I’m not,” Blaine says. “But I guess I kind of hoped I was a lot to gain.”

There it is again, the urge to smack his stupid head against the nearest wall. Why does he keep doing this to others? To himself? If he could just be himself…

Kurt takes in Blaine’s face, studying his eyes and those ridiculously long eyelashes and thick eyebrows that kept distracting him the first time they had to do an assignment together. He remembers how Blaine’s enthusiasm and his cute quirks pulled him in from the get-go, how he kept hoping they’d be paired together for more assignments… how kissing him just now felt like he could do anything and get away with it…

Oh, to hell with these charades.

Quinn’s eyebrows rise when she catches Sam and Mercedes kissing on the front porch, but they almost disappear beneath her hairline when she sees Kurt on the dance floor – goofing off with Blaine and smiling like an utter idiot. Of course. She should have known. He’d never tell her the truth, but it’s always been kind of obvious how soft he got around him.

“I take partial credit for that,” Santana drawls next to Quinn, leaning her elbow on Quinn’s shoulder. “He needed a bit of a push.”

“Who knew you had such match-making skills.” Quinn makes to turn towards Santana to grin at her but spots Karofsky and Azimio in the crowd, scowling. “Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Santana follows her gaze and balls her fists. “Don’t worry about them. They’re making those faces because I just twisted their nads and put them in their place. I have them under control.”

Quinn shakes her head fondly. “You’re actually a pretty good friend, Santana.”

Santana looks like she wants to disagree for a second but then she just shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah… just don’t tell Kurt.”

Kurt beams when Mercedes and Sam finally show up together, joining Blaine and him on the dance floor.

Blaine and Sam seem to be engaged in a secret conversation involving nods, winks and fist-bumping, so Kurt turns to Mercedes.

“Are we okay?” he asks her.

She smiles back at him. “We’re peachy. Or at least we’re gonna be.”

Relief floods his body. This party is turning out to be so much better than anticipated. And maybe, just maybe… everything will be alright.

#klaine fic #Klaine AU #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #my klaine fics #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAINBOOOW

162 notes · View notes