Say what you would about McKinley high school (and you could say a lot because it was kind of terrible), but the glee club through a hell of a party and had lots of alcohol on hand.

Maybe he had too much to drink, but Blaine thought it was pretty awesome to see Brittany and Rachel kiss, giggling and unashamed in the way girls could be. It didn't seem to matter that they were straight, they could kiss and people thought it was cool. Two boys though…

No. Blaine decided he wasn't going to brood on the double standards of high school life. He was going to spin the bottle and plant a kiss on whatever girl it landed on because it was a game and he was drunk and it would feel nice to touch someone….

Oh, crap.

The bottle had stopped spinning when it was pointing firmly at Sam. Very hot, very boy Sam.

There was laughter and a few good-natured sounding taunts and Blaine was about to tell Sam it was cool, no kissing would be necessary, when the blonde grinned. "Pucker up, dude."

Despite being drunk, Sam was graceful as he rolled to his knees, crawling across the circle with intent in his eyes. Not about to back down now, Blaine leaned forward and, laughing, pressed a kiss to Sam's smiling mouth.

Sam's lips were soft and slick with some kind of minty Chapstick. After a quick moment of appreciation, Blaine began to pull back and was startled when Sam followed, actually catching Blaine's upper lip between his own.

Defenses crumbling, Blaine reached out, placing a hand on Sam's jaw to slot their mouths together at a better angle and lost himself in the heady sensation of licking into Sam's readily accepting mouth….

At least until Sam jerked away with the startled yelp. Blaine thought maybe he'd realized what was going on, but it didn't actually looks like Sam had a choice in breaking the kiss.

Santana had a hand fisted in his hair and seemed to be using the grip to drag them out of the circle. "What the hell was that, puto? Did I not make myself clear!"

"Ow, ow,ow," Sam said, standing and following her to a corner of the room to engage in a hushed, hand gesture filled conversation.

Since no one could hear what was being said, eyes turned to Blaine, who smiled and shrugged. "I have no idea what's going on!" he said with a laugh, flopping back onto the floor.

Kurt peered down at him. "Blaine, are you okay?"

"He's fine," another voice, Blaine thought it was Puck, assured Kurt, which only made Blaine giggle harder.

"You're fine," Blaine declared, still grinning at the ceiling.

Puck let out a bark of laughter. "Ain't that the truth," he said agreeably. "You are so wasted."

"Yup!" Blaine chirped, trying to give a thumbs-up, but probably pointing at the nearest wall. "Imma just lie here for bit, kay?"

Cuz he needed the room to stop spinning before he tried to sit up.

On a good day, Sam was a little scared of Santana. It was one of the reasons he liked dating her. Sure, she could be mean, he was pretty sure she wasn't going to kill her boyfriend.

She'd be the first suspect.

Tonight, with a cocktail of booze and hormones bouncing around in his system, Sam just tried desperately to focus on what she was hissing at him.

"...you have any idea what that looked like? A little kisses one thing, but you were about 2 seconds away from sucking his face off… A real possibility with that damn mouth. You going team gay on me, Evans? Hmmmm?"

"Bi," he muttered, inhibitions lowered and tongue loosened by whiskey and beer. A few seconds later, his brain processed what his most had just done. "I didn't mean to say that."

Santana had gone very still and had fixed her intense gaze on him. "Didn't mean to say it aloud or didn't mean it?" she demanded in Sam just knew she'd kick his ass if he got that answer wrong.

Going with the truth was probably best. He wasn't a great liar even when he was sober. "The first one," he replied and sighed with relief when she sort of deflated, anger disappearing as she let her head fall forward against his chest.

"I love Brittany," she mumbled into his shirt and Sam raised a hand to pat her on the back.

"I know. She's your…oh, okay, love," he said in winced when she pinched him. "Ow. Hey, I'm drunk, but I got there eventually. Why don't you tell her?"

She snorted. "Brittany want to be girlfriends. Publicly."

Having this conversation in a corner while their friends played a kissing game and listened to peppy music made Sam's head hurt. "Would that be so bad? Brittany's great."

"I don't see you embracing the rainbow pride."

"I don't know what that means."

"You've only dated girls," Santana clarified, speaking slowly.

He shrugged a little. "Not a lot of boys who would be interested in Lima."

"Hummel or The Hobbit."

Sam winced. "Kurt's not really my type…and I don't really know Blaine."

He should've known Santana wouldn't let it drop. She leaned back to look at him with narrowed eyes. "But you'd like to."

"Santana, can we just…."

"Oh no," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm dumping your ass and gonna help you catch a Hobbit."

It again took a moment to follow her train of thought. "Um, thank you?"

"Damn right," she replied. "You care if people know you're playing for both teams?"

Shaking his head, he said, "No. Already told mom and dad when they're fine with me being me as long as I'm happy."

She nodded and Sam found himself being dragged across the room again, this time by the front of his shirt. When they reached the couch, she pushed him down onto the cushions and ordered, "Stay."

Knowing better than to argue, he simply watchedas she stomped over to where Blaine was sprawled on the floor. "Are you passed out?" she demanded of him.

"Your skirt is very short," Blaine informed her, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room.

Santana just rolled her eyes. "If I had any bits that would interest you I might be worried. Up."

"Yeah, that's gonna be…Oh, okay!"

She'd grown tired of waiting and simply reached down and hauled Blaine upright, displaying her deceptive strength.

Unceremoniously, she then dumped Blaine onto the couch beside Sam and adopted her lecturing pose. "Because your boys, I'm going to be blunt and talk slow for the stupid among you. You two made out and clearly enjoyed it. I dumped Trouty. You two should chat. Kiss. Date. Whatever you want to do. Imma go find me some more tequila."

Blaine was peering at him, bleary and puzzled but pleased. "You liked kissing me?"

"Yeah," Sam replied with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Want to get some coffee sometime?"

"What is happening?" Kurt said, suddenly standing by the couch and looking down at them. "Drunk decisions are bad decisions. Sam, you're straight and you're going to freak out the morning, so…."

"Am not," Sam replied, knowing he sounds a little whiny. "No one asked. They just decide, but I like both!"

"I'm cool with that," Blaine said, slumping over, somehow winding up with his chin against Sam's bicep, face tipped up.

Sam looked down at him and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey."

Kurt made an exasperated noise and stalked off, but Sam really couldn't focus on more than one thing at a time and Blaine was really close and really pretty….

One-handed, he pulled out his cell phone and began the awful process of trying to type a note to himself.

"What're you doing?" Blaine murmured, peering slightly cross eyed at the screen.

"Making a note to thank Santana."

Staying on her good side was always a good plan.

Sam brought her cupcake a few days later.

The morning after Sam and Blaine had their coffee date, Blaine sent her flowers.

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