This story is complete and a new chapter will be posted once or twice a week. It's about 22k and was an absolute joy to write. It is rated M because I'm always nervous about ratings (especially with this site), but there is no actual smut, just allusions to sex throughout the story.

They meet at a party.

Kurt is a sophomore and he's still living on campus. But his friend Charlie lives off campus and is throwing a get together. Kurt shows up buzzed and with a water bottle full of Franzia. He doesn't know too many people very well, but he knows many people alright enough, and he's able to enjoy a few entertaining conversations as his wine dwindles. He's drinking it slowly because it's all he has and once he runs out then that will be it, and he doesn't particularly want to end up sober.

He's heading back from the bathroom when two guys, who are drunk and stumbling and can hardly walk, collide and grab onto each other for balance, blocking Kurt's way out. They're laughing and apologizing and slurring and cackling and Kurt has to tamely move them to the side so he can walk past.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Kurt hears. He turns to his left and sees a guy there nursing a beer and grinning. When Kurt doesn't answer the guy points his beer bottle in the direction of the drunks. "I certainly thought they'd take you along for a tumble."

"Oh. Yeah," Kurt says with false bravado. "I hardly made it out alive."

"Well I'm glad you did," the guy replies, taking a step closer. Kurt sees the plaid detail on his unbuttoned shirt, can see how all the blues melt together with the green.

"If I'm gonna break a bone I plan on doing it a bit more classily."

"Yeah? How so," the man grins.

"Runway," Kurt shoots back immediately. They both laugh and Kurt blushes, bowing his head for a second. "I always thought I'd end up breaking a leg on a runway."

"You walk the runways much?"

"God no. I used to have quite the imagination though." They're still in the hallway, leaning against the wall and facing each other, and it's quiet. The guys that were there have left and the party is a distant pulsing in the background. Loud enough to be constantly heard but not loud enough to require Kurt to talk loudly.

"And that imagination often took you to the Paris runway, I see."

"No no," Kurt corrects, shaking his hand in front of him. "Milan. Come on," he jokes. "I have class."

"I'm so sorry," the guy smiles. "How could I be so presumptuous?"

"It's okay. I forgive you. Just don't make that mistake again."

"You have my word."

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. "I'm Kurt, by the way."

"Blaine," the guy says, sticking his hand out for Kurt to shake.

"It's nice to meet you," Kurt responds.

"So can I assume you go to PSU?"

"Yeah. Sophomore," Kurt responds, slightly embarrassed by his young age. Charlie's a junior, and Kurt knows his roommates are around his age, too. So he just assumes that everyone else will be older than he is.

"Same," the guy says. "I don't think I've ever seen you around?"

"No, I don't think so. This is my first time at Charlie's."

"Ah," Blaine exhales. "Are you enjoying the shenanigans?"

"So far, so good. You?"

"Yeah. Charlie always throws fun shindigs."

"Shindigs?" Kurt laughs.

"Hey! It's making a comeback."

"I don't think it is," Kurt smiles.

"I'm bringing it back in style," Blaine responds, voice getting higher.

"I'll be sure to help you with that, then."

"That's the spirit!" Blaine says, lifting his beer to clink with Kurt's water bottle.

They each take a sip and Kurt finishes off his wine with a little sigh. It's early yet, and he knows he will be quick to sober up. He's always less social when he's sober.

"All out?" Blaine asks, pointing to Kurt's bottle.

"Yeah."

"Want a beer?"

"I uh, didn't bring anything else."

"Come on," Blaine says, turning around and motioning towards the party. "You can have one of mine."

They end up in the kitchen where Blaine opens the fridge and grabs Kurt a beer, popping it open with a bottle opener on his keychain.

"Cheers," he says, clinking his half empty bottle with Kurt's and grabbing another beer for himself. Blaine finishes his beer and puts the empty bottle on the counter, opening his new one. He walks out of the kitchen and motions for Kurt to follow, and walks to the corner of the living room where there's an absolutely gigantic bean bag chair.

Blaine plops down on one side, leaning back with his hand behind his head and his other holding his beer on his knee.

"Jump on, partner."

Kurt slowly sits down.

"So what are you majoring in?" Blaine asks, still reclined on the beanbag chair.

"Undecided. But I've been taking enough Theater and Marketing classes to basically be a major anyway, so I'll probably go that route. You?"

"Engineering," Blaine answers.

"Wow," Kurt says, eyebrows raising. "Smarty pants over here. What kind?"

Blaine laughs. "Environmental."

"Green thumb?" Kurt asks.

"You could say."

"Oh no. Quick! What are your thoughts on fracking?" Kurt spitfires.

"Boo, fracking," Blaine pouts.

Kurt laughs and shakes his head.

"Well I'm glad you're environmentally conscious, Mr. Environmental Engineer."

"Someone's gotta save the world," Blaine says, cocky grin blooming on his face.

Kurt repositions himself so he's a bit closer to Blaine, and he can see the honey of his eyes glassy and buzzed and relaxed.

"And you think you can do that?" Kurt smiles.

"I can certainly try."

Kurt pauses for a second, thinking how unique this guy is.

"Cheers to that," he responds, clinking his beer bottle with Blaine's.

They talk for the next two hours, trading stories about where they're from and what they like.

Blaine's from Oregon; a nice suburb in the corner of the state, a few hours from Portland. Kurt asks him if he ever considered leaving the state and Blaine says, "Yeah. But it's not time yet," and leaves it at that. Blaine's far more interested, it seems, in what made Kurt move across the country to a state that is, in his mind at least, in the middle of nowhere.

"I don't know," Kurt says.

"No! No. That's not a good enough answer," Blaine says.

They've been drinking more of Blaine's beers, and they are closer together on the bean bag chair, knees brushing and cheeks flushed.

"Honestly!" Kurt laughs.

"No no no!" Blaine shakes his head. "Why?!"

"I think I just ended up here?" Kurt says. "I…I applied to a few places. And when I was on College Board I just…stumbled across this school. And I needed a change. So when I got accepted to Portland State and denied from NYU I just chose this," Kurt shrugs.

"Do you regret it?" Blaine asks contemplatively.

"No," Kurt responds. "Not at all, actually. I really like it here. It has a much different feeling than Ohio and New York."

"God, I'd kill to go to New York," Blaine exhales.

"It's…amazing," Kurt smiles. "It really, really is."

Blaine groans and covers his eyes with his arms, leaning back against the bean bag chair.

"Of course it is," he grumbles.

"Oh shut up," Kurt laughs. "You'll get there one day."

He looks for Blaine around campus after that night, but to no avail. Not that Kurt actually thought he'd see Blaine—they're in totally different colleges at Portland State; Kurt in the School of Arts & Sciences and Blaine in the School of Engineering—but he was hopeful, nevertheless.

He wants to talk to Charlie about Blaine, but he's not quite sure how to bring him up without it sounding totally out of place. About a month later, however, Kurt gets an invite to another of one Charlie's parties and he readily accepts.

"Is uh, that kid gonna be there?" He asks, trying to sound nonchalant. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Charlie asks, typing away on his phone. He looks up at Kurt and Kurt has to force himself to act normal. "Oh. Uh. No. He has to work."

Kurt tries not to look too disappointed.

It's not until that weekend, as he's hanging around Charlie's house and talking to random people, that Kurt realizes how strange it is that Blaine has to work at midnight on a Saturday night. He doesn't think about it too much, though, because he gets called over by a group of guys he talks to occasionally. He spends the rest of the night drinking and laughing and taking ridiculous drunk pictures that he both hopes will get uploaded to Facebook and deleted from history permanently.

It's not so tough for Kurt anymore. It's actually rather quite easy, and he's both surprised and confused as to how simply going away to college could so totally change his life. He's left the bad behind him and embraced the good. He's a member of a few clubs on campus. He volunteers irregularly, but always steps up to the plate when necessary. He makes friends with his Professors and even managed to salvage a friendship with the President of the Student Government Board—even after they slept together.

The fact that the President of the SGB is gay is another thing that entirely both shocks and awes Kurt.

But the longer he stays in school, the fewer things seem to surprise him. Everything just becomes…normal. He meets people who are different than him. He learns to think forwardly and how to enact change. He knows how to have a calm debate, and he knows that it's okay to have entirely different views than someone else. He is actually friends with people who have different views than he does.

For the first time in his life, Kurt Hummel is accepting the fact that he isn't always right and that there is so much more to learn. He keeps his eyes open and his ears to the ground.

But there are still so many things he doesn't understand. Things he can't comprehend. Ideas and philosophies and people that he knows exist, but he can't wrap his head around.

Blaine is one of those people. He leaves Kurt truly confounded.

They become friends gradually. Blaine only goes to two other parties at Charlie's house that first trimester. But Kurt grabs lunch with Charlie one time and Blaine ends up shooting Charlie a text saying he's in between classes and asking if Charlie wants to chill.

"Mind if Blaine comes by?" Charlie asks.

Kurt has to physically bite his tongue to stop him from screaming out yes.

"Not at all," he replies coolly.

Blaine shows up a few minutes later, book bag in tow. He's wearing dark, straight legged jeans and a buttoned up plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Kurt wants to roll his eyes and tell Blaine he's a beanie away from becoming a hipster, but for some reason he can't say it. For some reason he thinks that Blaine really pulls off the look. Effortlessly.

"Hey," Blaine says to Charlie, sitting down at the table. They're hanging out at a table in a random lounge on campus. It's a bit too cold to hang outside according to Charlie, so he dragged Kurt inside.

"Hey!" Blaine says again, looking at Kurt. "Kurt, right? What's up?!"

Kurt just sits there for a second gathering himself and trying not to freak out that the totally gorgeous guy from a party over a month ago remembers him.

"Yeah. Hi. What's up with you?" He replies.

"Oh, not much. All work and no play makes Blaine a dull boy." Blaine unzips his bookbag and pulls out a beat up aluminum water bottle, unscrewing it and taking a sip. It's not until then that Kurt realizes there's a bike helmet attached to a loop in his bookbag.

"Well so long as you don't take your boredom out with an axe," Kurt replies.

"Too tragic."

"We wouldn't want the murder to be tragic, no," Kurt grins—he can't help himself.

Blaine just looks at him and smiles. Really looks at him. Kurt feels his grin get wider.

They're pulled out of their reverie by Charlie coughing, "Awkwaaarddd," and they both laugh.

"Alright," Blaine says, turning to Charlie. "I don't want to make you feel left out. How would you murder someone?"

"Hit man. Obviously," Charlie rolls his eye.

Kurt takes a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and doesn't even have to try to enjoy the way his afternoon turned out.

Blaine has to leave forty minutes later so he can make it to his next class. Before he leaves, though, he asks Kurt for his number. Kurt happily gives it, and a few minutes later he gets a text.

Shooby Doop

What's the scoop

On your plans this Friday afternoon?

Kurt doesn't even hide back his grin when he replies, Class until 3. Free after that.

I work at 6. Hang out before?

Yeah : ) Kurt responds.

They get closer, him and Blaine.

They hang out whenever they can, which admittedly isn't too often. Kurt texts him as frequently as he can without seeming creepy or obsessed, asking Blaine to hang out. But more often than not Blaine replies that he can't. He's always working, and always at the oddest hours of the day. He's never around at night, but during the day he has classes. If he doesn't have classes he can't hang out because he's working. It's cyclical in nature and a bit of an annoyance for Kurt, but he works around it. They grab lunch in between classes, hang out in the evenings before Blaine's shift, and sometimes they're able to explore the city of Portland, on those infrequent days Blaine gets weekends off of work. But Kurt gets to see him at least once a week, so he's happy about that.

Blaine even comes to Charlie's Halloween party. Kurt doesn't even have to beg. Blaine actually brings it up to him one evening over Chinese.

"Are you coming to Charlie's Halloween party, or do you have other plans?"

Kurt hasn't really thought about it. Charlie told him about it week ago, but he was also invited to another party with his other friends.

"You gonna be there?" Kurt asks between bites of rice.

"Totally. I'm going as Hendrix. I've been planning this shit for a month."

"Count me in," Kurt smiles.

Kurt dresses as David Bowie. He has two costumes for Halloween: one for the night before Halloween where he's partying with his core group of friends, and one for Charlie's party. He gets ready at Blaine's place, drinking and laughing and applying makeup, sharing the small bathroom with Blaine. Anytime Blaine has to pass by him he puts a hand on Kurt's sides, and Kurt has to try hard not to swoon in his drunk state.

"More blue," Blaine says, crushing the can of PBR he's drinking.

"No more blue!" Kurt says petulantly. "Too much blue. Now time for green."

He's pouting and Blaine hooks his head over Kurt's shoulder and looks at Kurt's reflection in the mirror.

Kurt's holding his breath. He hasn't been this close to someone in a while. Physically, yeah. But he feels such a tug towards Blaine and he can't explain it.

"Your wig look ridiculous," Blaine laughs, and Kurt shakes his body, effectively getting Blaine off him.

"Bad boy!" He chastises.

Blaine leaves the bathroom shaking his head.

"You better be going to get your costume on and not grabbing another beer!" Kurt yells.

Blaine comes back a few seconds later shirtless and with two cold beers in his hand.

"But I got one for you," he pouts.

Kurt playfully slaps his face and grabs a beer.

"Put on some clothes."

"I should just go naked," Blaine replies.

"Dear god don't say that," Kurt exhales.

"Why?" Blaine says, lip quirking up. "See something you like?" He comes up beside Kurt, who has turned around and is looking at him.

"I can say that it would be terribly distracting. Now go get dressed! I'm not drunk enough yet to tell you how hot you are."

"Yes sir!" Blaine salutes, turning around and heading for the bedroom.

Kurt finishes putting his make up on and leaves the bathroom, beer in hand.

He falls back on the couch, careful not to ruin the placement of his wig, and cracks open his beer. Blaine comes out few minutes later, strutting down the hall.

"Oh my god," Kurt laughs, snorting and leaning forward, body heaving with laughs.

"Hey, sugar," Blaine says, voice silky smooth.

"This is so great," Kurt huffs, unable to catch his breath. The alcohol is already making him looser. "You are amazing," he says. "I love you."

"You're not so bad yourself, Bowie."

Blaine looks like the 70s and flower power and free love. He's dressed like Jimi Hendrix, with a floral theme throughout his outfit. He has a headband and his long curls are flowing wild, teased with no gel, and every time Blaine cocks his head his hair moves with it. He has a piece of cardboard cut out to look like a guitar, painted meticulously, with a string around it so he can put it around his shoulders and pretend to rock out. The other week he told Kurt that he wants to light it on fire at the end of the party. Kurt's only mildly sure that he was joking.

"Fucking brilliant," Kurt says, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. "How the fuck do you pull this off?" He says to no one in particular.

"I think the real question is how the fuck did I pull this on?"

"Where do you even get this stuff? How much money did you spend?"

"Like nothing," Blaine scoffs.

Kurt looks at him with doubt, eyebrow raised cynically.

"Seriously!" Blaine laughs. "Goodwill, man. I don't think I spent more than twenty bucks. I stole the cardboard and the paint for the guitar. Got the headband from the theatre department—"

"—You raided the theatre department?!" Kurt screams.

"No!" Blaine laughs, taking a seat on the coffee table directly across from Kurt. "Devyn gave it to me! It's leftover scraps from the costuming department. She also got me the boots, but those I have to return."

"You're unbelievable," Kurt shakes his head.

"I hope that's a good thing," Blaine says, leaning forward a bit, head close to Kurt's.

"Incredibly so," Kurt says, a bit breathless.

It's his eyes, Kurt thinks. Every time he looks into those eyes he just gets trapped in them. He was always a sucker for smiles—not that Blaine has a bad one at all—but it's his eyes that got to Kurt first. They're warm and comforting and full of understanding. They're quiet and loud and excited and sometimes when he smiles there are little crow's feet on the end. The color is vibrant, and when Blaine's drunk they swirl. Kurt can read Blaine's eyes like a mood ring.

"Shots?" Blaine asks, head cocked towards the kitchen table where there's beer and liquor and mixers and chasers and everything in between. Kurt's always ridiculously surprised with how much alcohol Blaine always has in his house. He's even more surprised with the fact that it's all decent stuff. Kurt's still drinking shitty boxed wine and bottom shelf liquor.

He assumes that living with three upperclassmen has really benefited Blaine.

He gets ridiculously wasted. And so does Blaine.

They show up to Charlie's already drunk and laughing and confident, and they are welcomed with open arms. The party has already started by the time they arrive, and when they walk in it's to claps and hollers from the other impeccably (and poorly) dressed people. Kurt's been hanging out with Charlie a fair bit recently, so he knows more people at this party than he did at the first one, and he's able to seamlessly weave himself from group to group—friendly enough with everyone to engage in conversation, but not close enough to want to spend the whole party with the same people.

Except Blaine. He does spend almost the whole party with him. Whenever they separate it's only for a few minutes—half an hour at best. And if they're on opposite sides of the room they'll occasionally glance up and look at each other, check that the other one is still there.

They stay drunk, but never cross the line to shitfaced. When the music gets louder and a good song comes on, they dance together. It's silly, not sensual. Sometimes they'll grind in ridiculous manners, channeling their inner freshman sorority girl, laughing at how ridiculous they look. Other times they'll face each other and jump up and down to silly rock anthems from the 90s. And when a Hendrix song comes on, Blaine commandeers the dining room table and puts on an outlandish performance that earns hoots and hollers and screams for an encore. He doesn't end up lighting his guitar on fire. He loses it instead, having passed it off to some random person who wanted to check it out.

They stumble back to Blaine's place around three in the morning, still a little drunk and high on life. With energy buzzing below their skin they get ready for bed. Kurt steals the bathroom and wipes off as much make up as he can before stripping down to his boxer briefs.

"Pizza!" Blaine says from the kitchen, already undressed.

There's a box of pizza on the table with the words For you Blaine written on them

"My roommates are the best," Blaine says, eyes dopy and grin wide. He goes up to Kurt and wraps his arms around him from behind. "Mmmm. Pizza."

Kurt laughs and opens up the box. "Can I have some?" He asks.

"You can have half," Blaine says, pulling himself away from Kurt and grabbing two slices. He folds them in half and gnaws off a huge bite. Kurt laughs and takes a slice for himself. It's probably an hour old, but Kurt doesn't care, and neither does Blaine by the looks of it. Within ten minutes the entire pizza is gone and Kurt is effectively feeling his exhaustion hit.

"I'm gonna grab a water," he says tiredly, slurring a bit.

"Me one, too," Blaine yawns from behind.

Kurt grabs two glasses and fills them up from the Brita filter in the fridge. He downs his in three gulps and then fills the cup up again.

"Bed time," he says, handing Blaine his water and heading to the couch.

He puts the water on the couch and plops down, burrowing into the pillow. There's one small fleece blanket at the end of the couch, but he's too drunk and tired to get it.

"No." Blaine says from above him, poking him in the back. "Get up."

"Sleeeeep," Kurt responds, zombie like.

"You're not sleeping out here."

"Yes I am," Kurt yawns.

"Come on," Blaine says, grabbing Kurt's arms. "My bed."

"Too far," Kurt says. Not even a second later his head shoots up. "Wait what?"

"My bed is way more comfortable. This couch is actual trash," Blaine says.

"But I'm already laying down," Kurt replies, snuggling his head back in the pillow. The small, sober part of his brain is kicking him right now, telling him he's a fucking fool for giving up an opportunity to drunk snuggle with Blaine. But he can't find the energy to get up.

"Alright, Mister," Kurt hears. He feels Blaine pulling him harder and before he knows it he's standing up, his back to Blaine's chest.

"Woah," he replies. "You're strong."

Blaine chuckles. "Bed time. Before I pass the fuck out here."

They walk to Blaine's room with their waters, and when they get in Blaine's full sized bed Kurt finds himself the little spoon. He passes out almost immediately. He blames the booze for that.

I hope you like it! Let me know?