Chapter Text
Once, Kurt would have given away all of his Armani boots to be at a party with the Cheerios and the popular kids, all while pretending he was, in fact, above all that. He was starting now to rethink that- he had seen way too many people’s puke, and enough bras to last him a lifetime. If he wasn’t certain he was gay before, he was now, he thought looking in horror at Brittany whipping her shirt on the face of a guy from a team he couldn’t recognize from the varsity jacket.
“I’m starting to regret coming here,” he said to Mercedes, “popularity is not worth witnessing these offensive heterosexual mating rituals.”
“I could defend myself but I’m not sure I can, looking at that.” She pointed at someone licking a body shot off someone’s hairy chest.
Kurt was sure he was going to get through another public vomiting incident (thankfully Miss Pillsbury wasn't there to be retched on) when he spotted Finn making his way to them. He straightened up immediately, fixing his bangs, and trying to pose to benefit his post-Winter Break biceps.
Finn looked dreamy as ever, with his shoulder lounged over as usual (Kurt was going to suggest working on his posture after their fifth date).
“Why are you hiding here?” Finn asked them over the music, a red solo cup in his hand.
Finn was never the brightest. It was cute. Kurt shared a look with Mercedes to assess it.
“This is your party!” He added, bless his soul.
“Until they decide it’s not,” he said.
“It’s a Cheerios party,” Mercedes picked up in front of Finn’s perplexed look.
“You’re Cheerios, too.”
“It hasn’t even been a week,” Kurt said, fixing his bangs. "They’re probably still deciding whether we make the cut or not. And given our history, I doubt we do.”
"Julia the double jointed witch said we were going to last four days before Sue decided she was bored of the singing gimmick," Mercedes said with a little worried frown. Kurt patted her arm rather stiffly, still trying to show off his muscles.
Not that Finn seemed to notice. At least he smiled in that dorky sideway of him, and on that Kurt had no note.
“A good reason to take advantage of your status now that you can,” Finn nodded to the dance floor. “Come dancing!”
Kurt immediately took a step but Mercedes caught his elbow.
“I don’t think most of those people are dancing,” she said with a poignant stare at a couple inspecting each other’s oral cavities with their tongue.
“That’s because you haven’t drunk enough,” Finn said, tilting his cup to her.
Kurt raised his eyebrow. Mercedes pulled a face.
They were stepping out together to follow Finn to the alcohol, when a guy plastered himself to Finn’s side. He was short (although he probably wouldn’t have looked that short next to anyone but Finn), overheated, and in dire need of some hair care.
“Hey, Hudson!” he almost shouted.
It was telling that Kurt couldn’t tell if he was really drunk or if he was just an average McKinley jock.
"Hey, Bubblecup." Finn looked fondly amused, and he leaned over to help this ‘Bubblecup’ guy climb him. Kurt sighed. It was unfortunate how straight boys had such privileges and yet made nothing of it.
“Picking up the new Cheerios recruits?” The guy asked with a ridiculous face.
Finn caught him by the end of the shirt to keep him upright.
“They’re my friends from Glee club,” he said. “Kurt and Mercedes.”
“Oh, right,” he slurred, turning to them. He had a good bone structure, under that mangrove jungle he had on his head. “Cool.”
“And you’d be?” Mercedes asked.
The guy laughed like it was the joke of the year.
“I actually don’t think they know who you are, dude,” Finn said. The other narrowed his eyes, intently looking at Finn. His eyelashes were long .
“Oh,” he said, then he turned a blinding smile at them. “I’m Blaine.”
Kurt shook his hand, putting way too much consideration in the way he was doing it considering Blaine’s hand was clamped and kind of boneless. It still had enough strength to know it would have been a nice handshake had he not been hammered and possibly stoned. Not that Kurt had any experience with weed other than Brett.
Finn looked at him in a way Kurt didn’t like- he was just shaking the guy’s hand. With a little more enthusiasm he would have had a smile ago, but still. He rolled his eyes when Finn dragged Blaine back by his shirt.
Blaine waited to shake Mercedes hand, too, but she gave him a once over.
“What is this, a business meeting?”
“By how little drunk you are,” Blaine dragged, a little proudly, “one could make that mistake. Nobody!” Kurt got whiplash over the difference in volume. “Should be this sober at a party. Especially not someone this handsome!” Blaine slapped Finn’s chest. “God, you’re so tall, man,” he added looking up, like it was the first time he noticed.
Kurt was suddenly in the mood for a little noticing himself. So what if his hair hadn’t made a great first impression, Kurt could always introduce him to hair gel.
“What is it that you play, again?” Mercedes asked, a clear implication that his height and build wasn’t giving many indications- although now that Kurt was now paying attention, he had rather broad shoulders.
Blaine chuckled. Finn answered for him, clearly very amused.
“He’s the captain of the basketball team.”
Mercedes laughed. Blaine didn’t seem to mind that much.
“You can laugh,” he slurred, stealing Finn’s red solo cup. “But I’ve been turning this team around. To indulge in a music metaphor, I bought them from garage band to rockstars.”
“That’s true. Best point guard McKinley ever had. He makes the plays,” he added, like that would clarify something for Kurt.
“You’re into music?” He asked instead.
Again, that look from Finn. He was just making conversation. He toyed with the end of his fringe.
“Hm-hm,” Blaine smiled around a sip of beer. “I kind of wanted to join Glee Club at the beginning of the year, actually, but then I passed by the class and you kinda sucked.”
“Okay,” Finn laughed under his breath, taking Blaine’s paws off of him.
Blaine looked disappointed, which made Kurt look over the insult. Besides, they had sucked back then- he couldn’t really fault anyone for being scared off by Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat, if they had any kind of social life or respect in themselves.
“Oh!” Blaine said like it just hit him what he said. “I did enjoy Push It, though. I’m sure you guys got even better.”
Kurt did not want to be reminded of Push It, as a rule.
“I think it’s time you go find your teammates.”
“Hey, dude,” Blaine said, “they’re your teammates, too. Until you ditch us for football again, that is.”
“Right. Where did you leave them?”
“They’re playing strip beer pong,” Blaine said, he raised his eyebrows in the direction of Kurt and Mercedes. “It was fun when we were kids back in freshman year, but by now it just reeks of desperation, you know?”
“You’re a senior?” Kurt asked.
“Junior,” Blaine said. “You?”
“Sophomore,” Kurt artfully kind of giggled.
“It’s time to go,” Finn said, pushing Blaine away. “Don’t you have some cheerleader to make out with?”
“No one I really like, no. If I did, I would have been all over them quite a few drinks ago.”
Kurt elbowed Mercedes. He tilted his head at her, to try and communicate “gender neutral pronouns, hello,” but she just turned the corners of her mouth down and stared at him like he was being a freak.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Blaine said inconsequentially.
“What a coincidence!” Kurt fake-laughed. “Me, too.”
“Kurt,” Finn told him, which was really rude.
Unless he was finally jealous that Kurt would turn his attention to someone else, In that case it was still rude, but cute.
“Well, walk with me. I actually know about a secret bathroom.”
“Really?” Kurt asked, walking with him. He didn’t particularly care for the topic of conversation, but he would take what he had.
“Hm, hm. I know this house inside and out. I got my first kiss here, actually.”
Now, that was more like it. Kurt gracefully avoided someone stumbling.
“Someone special?” he asked.
“Uh,” he hummed, leaving his cup on a low table, “not really? It was Santana Lopez, the October of two years ago. She still had braces.” Kurt filed the knowledge away. He would have to find some proof of it to blackmail her. He couldn’t wait to tell Mercedes. “Actually,” he said, stopping in the middle of a step. He stumbled as a result, and Kurt was more than happy to help him straighten up. “Thanks, bro,” Blaine smiled, and then he actually gripped his shoulder, not really leaning against him, but Kurt would take it. He would not take the bro , but there was time to make it clear. “I was saying, I just remembered after we kissed she told me it was an investment, and I now had to bring her to Junior prom with me. Thank you for helping me remember, you don’t want to forget a date with Lo.”
“Lo?” he asked, horrified.
“Ops,” he said, “don’t tell her I still call her that.”
“Why did you even call her that in the first place? How would one look at Satan in a uniform and even think to call her Lo?”
“I’m tight with her cousin, this is his house. We used to all play together sometimes, when we were kids.”
Tiny, handsome, popular, and a goldmine of blackmail material on Santana Lopez. Kurt was starting to get excited.
“Hey, Bubblecup!” A guy hollered from the other side of the hallway. “We about to hit Smash Bros, you up?”
“Uh,” he said, opening his arms. “Do you have to ask?”
Kurt called him when he actually started to go towards him.
“Blaine. Didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”
“Oh, yeah, that. I’ve drunk so much I’ll need to go again in ten minutes, I can squeeze a match in between. If you need to go, though, it’s in the attic. No one ever goes there.” He leaned over, putting the back of his right hand to the left side of his mouth. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
He narrowed his eyes a lot, Kurt noticed. It was a good look. Would have been better if he could keep himself upright.
“My lips are tight.”
Blaine flashed him a smile.
“Good. And I will accept payback in the form of a dedicated cheer next game, new kid.”
Kurt maybe swooned a little. He resisted the urge of fanning himself. Instead, he kind of shuffled on his feet judging people for a while (even though he was almost certain Blaine couldn’t exactly tell a minute apart from ten, right now, therefore wouldn’t notice him not taking the bathroom break he allegedly needed), and then he sprinted back to Mercedes.
She was dancing with Finn, trying to get him to feel the R’n’B rhythm. What a generous soul, to think there was still any hope for the bumbling lovable idiot.
“I think he’s gay,” he said dancing next to her, crossing his arms in front of his body and moving his hips.
“It’s kind of none of your business,” Finn said, twisting his foot.
“Okay, one white boy with no moves, I can deal with,” Mercedes said, stopping ded on her feet. “Two is a hate crime. One of you is going to have to move over there.”
Kurt looked at Finn. Finn twisted his foot faster, weirdly shimming his shoulder.
“I was here first.”
“Mercedes,” he said, pointing at him. “Will you say something?”
"Nothing personal, Kurt, but he’s right.”
Finn made a ridiculously adorable ah sound and raised his hand for Mercedes to hit her fist against.
Kurt dared her not to do it, but she looked him dead in the eyes as she did.
“Whatever,” he said, “I have to go home anyway. Good genetics doesn’t mean I can skip my skincare routine.”
And, it was ten minutes past curfew.
“You gave me a ride!” Mercedes protested.
“Ask your new fistbump buddy,” he said, “he sure doesn’t have any obligation with his skin, even if, frankly, he should.”
She shrugged and blew a kiss in his direction to say goodbye. He smiled and wiggled his fingers to her.
Curfew and skincare routine aside, he thought getting behind the wheel of his car, he needed to get home anyway. He had a boy to cyberstalk.
It was a beautiful Wednesday morning. Kurt bounced around the hallway and even smiled at a janitor, who dropped his broom and hurt a mousy freshman, and really it only cemented Kurt's idea that smiling at people, in general, wasn't a good idea. But he was in a good mood for once, and he had a mission.
He had spent the better part of the night looking up photos of Blaine, who appeared to be much more dapper when not intoxicated, and according to a sleepy, (but very interested) Tina, was indeed known to wear aggressively colorful chinos from time to time, when he chose a neutral as a top. His hair still could use some help- he seemed to want to tame them, but was clueless on the hows, which Kurt was soon going to be able to help with, after Mercedes’ brother reported back to her about the proper maintenance for 3B curls.
He was also clearly gay. Kurt could smell it on him. Or something less creepy. His evidence: the familiar Finn clinging. The casual flirting they parted ways with (which he had only recognized later as such, thanks to the wisdom of the night and Tina’s rows of exclamation points- he really had to text her more often and not only when Mercedes was asleep). The masterful use of the neutral pronouns. The colorful chinos, of course. And more than that, it was just something about him that made him think he wouldn’t have to try as hard to convince Blaine girls weren’t all that they were cracked up to be, as he would with Finn. It was just a hunch. As he told Mercedes and Tina that morning, he wasn’t going to be the one cracking the science behind the gay radar.
At least they had agreed that if he was gay, which he was, it would only be nice for Kurt to befriend him and team up. And if maybe then something would happen, Kurt wasn't opposed to it: if the only other gay guy at McKinley turned out to be a handsome (albeit on the short side), popular jock with curls, golden eyes, some basic care for his styling, and an interest in music, Kurt was more than happy to work with it.
When he finally found him, Blaine was leaning against his locker, head thrown back. His eyes were closed. Kurt took advantage of it for a little too long before casually knocking on the row of lockers.
Blaine turned to him slowly and opened his eyes. He looked sick, truth to be told. Ashy pale skin, dark bags under his eyes. But he seemed well put together in his korean collar white shirt and basketball jersey. He smiled.
"Hi, Kurt," he smiled, and Kurt tried to smile as naturally as he could.
"Hello, Blaine. You're looking a bit down."
"Don't mention it," he drawled, passing a hand over his eyes. "Everytime I tell myself I'm not going to go to another party in the middle of the week- and yet here I am. I blame my teammates.”
“Party animals,” Kurt said, like he shared his plight.
"More like they're desperate for female attention, and the team is too newly popular to score a date ," he rolled it on his tongue sarcastically, "with status alone. They need me to be an intermediary- girls talk to you, Blaine! Well, duh, I actually say hi instead of whistling."
Gay gay gay, Kurt's brain pinged.
Blaine chuckled and turned around to open the locker.
"Sorry, I get rambly when I'm hungover. Do you need something?"
"Coach said she wasn't totally opposed to suggestions for songs-" lie, "and since a basketball match is coming up" at least it should have according to Ben Israel's blog "I wanted to ask if you'd like to request a song for that personalized thank you cheer I owe you," which was never going to be performed, but Kurt would have assured him he had tried.
“Why would you owe me that?” Blaine asked, narrowed eyes.
“For the tip on the VIP bathroom?"
“Oh, that,” he said, “I was joking. You don’t owe me anything.”
Blaine hummed and closed the locker, now carrying two very heavy looking math books that seemed too advanced for Kurt to even recognize the symbols on the covers. He raised an eyebrow. Was the golden boy smart too?
“Well, what should I go for?" He insisted, but making sure it sounded a little shy. "If I decide I want to do it.”
"Something fun," Blaine answered after a squinty moment of pondering. "I would have said Phil Collins or Roxy Music, but I doubt it would do well."
Gay !
Blaine squinted a bit more.
"Sorry to ditch you so unceremoniously, but I have to get to AP Calculus."
"Sure, " Kurt smiled. “See you at the game.”
"Or before that," Blaine smiled, as he walked backwards for the first steps of his way. “We both come to school everyday.”
Kurt watched him go.
Not to be A Guy, but his ass was kind of nice. He couldn't wait to catch it in his colorful pants, rather than cut-off jeans that were frankly a bit out of style.
"I don't know," Mercedes said, her chin propped on her hand. She was looking at Blaine, over at the basketball table, looking dreamy and smiley. "He has kind fuckboy energy. One you would believe he wouldn't break your heart, but would, you know?"
"Are we implying gays can't be fuckboys? That's stereotypical."
Mercedes looked at him unimpressed.
"Last time I wasn't stereotypical, I thought I had a chance with you."
"You would had it been the fifties and I was in need a marriage of convenience."
"If it was the fifties, it wouldn't have been 1967 yet and the only marriage you'd be seeing was the one with Rachel Berry."
He looked at her in mostly horror, and slight confusion.
"Interracial marriage bill," she explained.
"Oh, right," Kurt pulled at his hair. "We can say we're truly star crossed-lovers, then."
Mercedes rolled her eyes.
"Point is, I have no clue. It could go either way." She paused. " He could go either way."
"Please," he scoffed. "That's like wearing leopard print only on the weekend. You either believe it's a neutral and wear it during business hours, or only take it out after midnight."
Mercedes didn't seem particularly convinced, but she shrugged.
"If you say so. Well, how do you plan to find out?"
Kurt smiled and looked at Blaine again.
"I don't have to find out," he said. "How do I get him to come out to me, is the question. Say, Mercedes," he reached out to tap her wrist, "how do you feel about basketball players?"
"Oh, hell to the no. You're not pimping me out to get a guy!"
"I'm not!" He protested. "It's why I asked you how you felt about it. I mean, there's some hunks on that team, have you looked?"
Her eyes darted to the table.
"I will, now. But I make no promises!"
He looked in satisfaction as she window shopped. He caught her making interested faces at least a couple times, until she turned to him and said.
"Yeah, I think breadstix with that beefy guy he's talking to right now will do."
"And the backup?"
"There ain't no back up. Ah!" She said, closing her hand in front of his, probably hostile, face, before he could speak. "This woman doesn't have no backup choices. She'll get what she wants, or nothing."
Kurt could respect that.
He straightened himself out in his chair and kept staring at Blaine, who was now entertaining the whole group with very expressive, but not flamboyant, miming.
A jock got in between his line of sight and barked some insult Kurt didn't pay attention to since it didn't contain anything more interesting than the world fag . He came and went, as bullies did.
"Kurt," Blaine said when Kurt accidentally passed in front of him right as he walked out of yet another AP class. "We meet again."
"Must be fate!" He smiled.
Blaine's weirded out look was much more subtle than Finn's. Also more attractive, mouth half quirked up and eyes narrow.
"Anyway, I have a favor to ask you."
"Do tell."
"I recently found out Mercedes has a crush on one of your friends from the team, and I was wondering if we could do something to help."
"Who's the chosen one?"
He had no idea what the guy's name was. Luckily it gave him more opportunities to scout Blaine's sensibilities.
"Tall, handsome, beefy, superhero jaw."
"Oh, Meatbox," he said, stopping in front of a class Kurt had never seen before. "That could work out, actually. As long as she doesn't mind hearing about the history of theme parks for an entire night."
Kurt couldn't believe Blaine was serving him so well.
"We could help with that. Go with them and make sure we can bring the conversation somewhere more interesting, like the lastest Tom Ford collection."
Blaine looked at him a little too long.
"Sure," he said eventually, like he meant to say something else. "Did you have something in mind?"
Kurt got to History late, but with Blaine's number in his phone and a double date scheduled, only waiting to be confirmed.
"Did it work?" Tina asked, tapping him on his shoulder. He had filled her in when he got bored in Algebra.
"It appears failure is not in trend this semester," he replied. "Give me some time, and I'll be going to Junior prom. With a date."