Kurt didn't think twice about it when Blaine dropped the keys to his car into his open hand. It was the usual run of the mill process. It was as Sebastian had so kindly pointed out: Kurt was always the designated driver. Always.

Sure he'd shaken his head at the ridiculous trinkets hanging off of Blaine's car key. What should've been one or two keys hanging from one ring was really two keys plus a handful of key chains. There was a round double-sided plastic trinket with the token Warbler on one side and the Dalton logo on the other. It spun around and around in the air, flickering from one face to the next, a mixture of blue, red, and yellow. There was not only one, but two small library cards – one for Dalton, beaten up around the edges from being tossed into Blaine's backpack one too many times, and a much newer, cleaner one for McKinley. Try as he might, he couldn't persuade Blaine to take off the Dalton card. His boyfriend was convinced he'd still need it some day.

He fingered the edges of a threaded charm that he'd made himself. He remembered sitting on the floor of his bedroom, six different color strings in his lap as he absentmindedly braided them together; one over the other – over, under, twist here, tuck there – as he watched a Project Runway marathon, his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he exchanged commentary with Blaine. There was a similar string of beads right next to that, a pattern of round orange beads and square purple ones – two of Blaine's favorite colors that he said he never got to wear. He often let that key chain hang out of his pocket at school, displaying it for all to see.

"I love it because my boyfriend made it for me," Blaine would always say. "So I want everybody to see it."

Kurt chuckled to himself at the memory before pocketing the jumble of metal and plastic into his pocket. As an afterthought, he pulled out the purple and orange beaded chain even though it clashed with his outfit, letting it drape against his jeans. As he listened offhandedly to Blaine and Sebastian's conversation, he ran his fingers along the smooth, plastic beads and smiled to himself.

"Blaine!" Kurt shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking as he fought back tears.

It was of no use, the other boy was walking away, his head down with no sign of turning back any time soon.

Kurt resisted the urge to shout. He was two seconds away from punching the vehicle in front of him. So instead he turned around quick circle. He needed to be moving, he needed to be doing something or else he'd be a liable danger to himself and anyone – or any car – near him.

Everything had been going fine – more than fine; he'd dare to say amazing – ever since he'd joined Blaine on the dance floor, just allowing himself to really have fun for the first time in a while. He hadn't even minded when he had to lug a very drunk Blaine to the car, knowing his boyfriend would most-likely be sober come morning. With a sore hangover, sure, but none the worse for wear.

It'd all gone wrong when Blaine had pulled him into the car, pressing hot, insistent kisses to Kurt's neck, placing his hands in areas they'd never so much as wandered to. Try as he might to get out of the car and not make the situation any more horrifying, Blaine would just keep pulling him back, trapping him. He'd felt claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in on him, as if he'd never escape that back seat. Panicking, he'd jumped out of the car and started shouting at Blaine.

The second Blaine's face had crumpled and his eyes had turned hard, Kurt knew he had messed up. He'd messed up big time. They both had.

"Why are you yelling at me?" Blaine had asked. For some reason, he felt like even though the drunken boy was looking straight at him, it wasn't Kurt Hummel that Blaine was seeing in front of him.

That's when Blaine had jumped out of the back seat and walked a good ten feet away, shouting some sarcastic remark about "trying to be spontaneous and fun". Before Kurt could so much as make a single move towards him, Blaine was already walking away, saying that he planned on walking home.

That brought him back to this moment as he slammed the back door shut and climbed into the driver's seat. He pulled Blaine's keys out of his pocket, scowling at the trinkets hanging from the ring before jamming the key into the ignition. He looked over his shoulder to see which direction Blaine had started walking in before backing out of the parking space and following him.

For a person so small and so drunk, Blaine was walking at a brisk pace. Kurt had to drive at least a block or two before locating him on the side of the road. He was trudging in the dirt as the scenery behind him turned from stores and fastfood joints to shrubbery. Kurt's foot hovered over the brake pedal, gradually slowing down the car to a crawl. He pulled up besides Blaine, who was pointedly looking at the ground and grumbling something unintelligible to himself. Rolling his eyes as he did so, Kurt rolled down the passenger side window, the one closest to Blaine, and bent his head to get a better look at Blaine.

"Blaine…?" Kurt asked when his boyfriend didn't even acknowledge his presence. "Look, I'm sorry…"

"Go home, Kurt," Blaine cut in. "I just need some…air right now. Yeah, that's what I need," he muttered, stumbling slightly.

"Blaine, honey, you're drunk. Just let me take you home. You don't even have to speak to me all the way there."

The other boy had bent down out of sight. Kurt strained his ears to listen for sounds of retching, but he heard none. He heard a bit of scuffling, but that was all.

"Blaine, are you okay? Are you sick?" Kurt asked, bringing the slowly rolling vehicle to a halt.

The shorter boy popped up again, his shoes dangling from his hands, joined by the shoelaces which he'd knotted together messily. Kurt knew he'd be regretting that in the morning when he couldn't undo said knots. He held them up for Kurt to see.

"Are you barefoot?" Kurt craned his neck as far as he could.

"I'm walking home," Blaine repeated again, his words starting to slur into one another messily. "I told you I'm walking home, Kurt, and thaaas what I'm doin'. I can…I can take care of myslfff…"

"Oh is that so?"

"Yeah, that's so," Blaine retorted. "I'll have you know that I was the head Warbler in my day," he began.

"Yeah, we all know that," Kurt muttered to himself, but Blaine rambled on.

"I'm a straight-A student. I'm an artist. Do you know how many people are artists, Kurt?" He began to count on his fingers. "…Not a lot," he finally said. "Artists are smart. They're clever. I happen to know how to take care of myself. I've been doing it for years." He was swaying from side to side, but still trudging on.

"You're walking in the wrong direction," Kurt interjected. "You live that way." He jerked his thumb to point in the opposite direction.

Blaine paused, squinting and considering the other direction. He licked a finger and stuck it in the air, pantomiming feeling for the wind.

"I don't think so…" he said, resuming his drunken march in the wrong direction.

"Blaine, trust me. You're going the wrong way."

"You're just trying to hold me down, Kurt. Trying to tell me when and where to have sex, who to have coffee with, and now where my house is. Well, no more," Blaine raved. "Blaine Anderson is capable of making his own decisions. I mean, I know where I…where I live. How dumb do you think I am? Because I know how dumb I think I am."

"Just get in the car and I'll take you home," Kurt pleaded. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"No. Leave me alone, Kurt. Can't you see I'm walking here?" He tripped, leaning forward and waving his arms frantically to balance himself.

"It's late and you're drunk…"

"I'm mad at you," Blaine remembered, screwing his face in distaste. "Yeah, I'm mad at you, Kurt. I'm angry. Therefore, I can't get into the car."

"Don't be stupid. Your house is too far from here…"

"I'll get there eventually," Blaine muttered. "Maybe by the time I do, you'll be lucky and I'll have forgotten that I was mad at you in the first place."

"Listen to me," Kurt said, enunciating clearly. "You're never going to get home. You're going the wrong way."

"You're lying," Blaine proclaimed, looking hurt. "I know where I'm going. I'm going home. And I'm not getting in the damn car."

"Blaine…"

"You know what? What's with you and your brother trying to tell me what to do?" Blaine mused aloud. "Go home, Kurt," he repeated. "And when you get there, you tell your brother for me that I'm aware that we don't wear blazers at McKinley. He should know. They would never find one in his abnormal giant size!" Blaine flung his arms out, his shoes dangling precariously from his hand.

"Blaine," Kurt repeated.

"No, no!" Blaine shouted. "You tell him to sit the fuck down. I'm sick of you Hummel-Hudsons getting on my case," he yelled. "Is this because I got the part of Tony, Kurt? Because I already apologized for that and I'm really sorry. I didn't even audition for Tony, they made me sing for the part. I feel really, really guilty about it every single rehearsal. I don't want to feel guilty about it, but I do."

"No, Blaine," Kurt said soothingly. "It's not about that. I'm okay with that – you're the perfect Tony, honestly you are."

The drunken boy ignored him. "You know what, don't tell Finn to sit the fuck down. You know why? Because Rachel's probably sitting on top of him. On top of him…And his penis," he said loudly.

Kurt cringed from Blaine's crudeness.

"Does that bother you?" Blaine ranted. "Does it bother you when I say penis? Or point out the fact that they're probably having sex? Because that's what two people do when they're in love, Kurt. They have sex. I just wanted to show you how much I care about you." His voice was starting to crack, underlying emotion starting to show. "Shit, I know I messed up, Kurt, but I just wanted to show you how much I love you. I wanted you to know that you're worth it. You're worth…taking that leap with. You're wonderful enough to share that moment with…" He paused in his striding to rub his temples with his fingertips as if he had a headache.

"I know you were," Kurt said softly. "But now isn't the right time. You're drunk, Blaine. I want that moment to be special."

"Doesn't being with me make it special enough?" Blaine asked, turning to look through the window for the first time. Kurt could see tears glistening on his cheeks in the moonlight.

"Yes, but…"

"No, no. No more from you," Blaine declared, waving a hand towards the open window.

He was beginning to slow down considerably. Kurt didn't even have to press the gas anymore, he was going so slow. A power-walker could've easily out-strode them both.

Blaine groaned loudly. "You're just…You're too much, you know that?" he burst out. "You're just so fucking…attractive. You should just…walk around with a warning. 'Don't look at me – I'm too sexy.' Yeah, your sign should say that."

"Get in the car," Kurt ordered.

"Ugh, my head just hurts and I'm so angry. But I can't…think straight." Blaine laughed humorlessly to himself. "Who am I kidding? I can never think straight. I'm gay." He burst into peals of laughter, doubling over to clutch his sides as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world. "Geddit, Kurt? I'm gay."

"I'm aware," Kurt replied sourly.

"I am not…under any circumstances…getting in that car. It's all a conspiracy," Blaine said. "You're going to kidnap me, put me under, and then they'll have no choice but to let you play Tony tomorrow night."

Kurt had to laugh at that one. "Will you stop talking about the play? Leave that out of this."

"I just…I wanna be a bird," Blaine said abruptly. "Like Pav. Do you remember Pav, Kurt? Because I do. I want to be like him. I want to sing all day long and not give a damn about what anyone has to say. That must be an easy life. Other people feed you, give you water, take care of you. Why can't I be like Pav?"

"Pavarotti died of a stroke," Kurt reminded his boyfriend softly. That little bird still held a tiny piece of Kurt's heart, even after all this time.

"He lived a good life!" Blaine exclaimed. "He never pissed anyone off. Everyone loved him. I want to be Pav when I grow up," he declared.

Blaine was swaying on the spot, struggling to keep his equilibrium. That was when he collapsed onto the ground. Kurt hit the brakes, put the vehicle into park, and yanked the keys out of the ignition. He pushed open the driver side door and ran around the front of the car, grateful that there was no one else on the road at this hour of the night.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, grabbing his boyfriend's elbow and attempting to help him up. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Lemme go," Blaine grumbled, trying to pull his arm out of Kurt's grasp and failing miserably. He scrambled to push himself up off the ground, holding his hands out in front of him. His shoes lay forgotten next to the front tire of the vehicle.

"What did you trip over?" Kurt asked, scouring the ground for a bump in the road or a stray root of some kind, but there was nothing there.

"I tripped over the branch," Blaine explained.

"There…is no branch," Kurt informed him.

"Shit, Kurt. I know what I tripped over. Give me some credit."

Kurt tried to redirect him towards the car. "Come on," he crooned. "Let's get you home."

"No!" Blaine whined, pulling free and stomping away into the brush.

"Blaine, where are you going? Don't go into the trees!"

But Blaine had already disappeared past the tall hedges and wild shrubbery. Kurt groaned, looking heavenward in exasperation before following him.

He gingerly picked his way through the thorny brambles, some catching on his clothes and scratching his wrists. How Blaine had gotten through them so quickly, he'd never know. He didn't have to wander far before finding the boyfriend in question.

"Look, Kurt, I just wanted you to kiss me," Blaine was telling a knobby tree. He was bracing himself on one of the outstretched branches and caressing it as if the tree were in fact Kurt. "Is that so bad?"

"Only one drink my ass," Kurt muttered angrily.

"I mean, I have needs," Blaine informed the tree. "I have needs, Kurt. I need you." He stroked the trunk of the tree lovingly. "Let's just say there's only so much I can do with my imagination. I can only take cold showers and jerk-off for so long before I start going mad…"

"Okaaaaay," Kurt cut in. "I think you've told the tree enough for now, Blaine."

Blaine shushed him, pushing him away with his free hand. "Shh, I'm talking to Kurt right now." He turned back to the tree. "I…I want you so bad, Kurt," Blaine droned on. "I want you so much it hurts. And I need you. I can't…I can't even live without you. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt - "

"I bet that's the alcohol talking," Kurt said under his breath.

"I don't want to disappoint you, Kurt," Blaine said, his voice getting gradually softer. "The way you looked at me when you got out of the car…I never want you to ever look at me like that again. I don't want to be a screw-up. I don't want to mess this up. I made one mistake – one. I can't remember what that mistake is, but I'm sorry, Kurt. Shit, I'm so, so sorry. I just love you…"

At this point, Blaine was draped all over the tree, leaning into it as if he were going to make a move on it, lips pursed and eyes closed. Kurt swooped in just in time to get between Blaine and the tree; the result being a sloppy kiss on the lips. He grabbed Blaine by the shoulders and directed him away from the tree, disentangling his fingers from the branches with great difficulty.

Blaine was starting to nod off, incapable of holding his own body weight any longer. He sagged against Kurt, not even bothering to try and help the cause. Kurt bent down and put his arm against the backs of Blaine's knees, sweeping them out from under him. He groaned under the dead weight of Blaine, but continued to carry him all the way back to the car where he lay him down in the backseat.

He smiled as he watched Blaine start to curl up in the back seat.

"Blaine, is there a blanket somewhere in the car?" Kurt asked.

"Check the back," Blaine grumbled.

Kurt went around to the back hatch and lifted it up. There was an array of objects littered in the trunk of Blaine's car. He spotted several old Dalton textbooks, a few spare sweaters, a copy of an Ian McEwan novel tucked under the back seat, and a graded paper. Kurt picked up the paper, studying it.

"Why we should have uniforms," he read off the title.

"That was for my debate class," Blaine mumbled. "I got an A on it." Kurt could hear him shifting around in the back seat. "I was going to make a copy and give it to Finn. Then maybe he'd shut the hell up."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt said, laughing to himself as he slipped it back under a textbook.

He grabbed the blanket and closed the back hatch as quietly as he could manage. He went around the side of the car and unfolded the throw blanket. By the time he got it situated, Blaine was already fast asleep. Kurt bent over his still form and tucked the blanket in around him, pausing to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He ducked back out of the car, picking up Blaine's shoes, undoing the nearly-impossible knot in the laces, and placing them neatly on the floor of Blaine's car.

He climbed back into the driver's seat and made a u-turn, speeding back towards Blaine's house.

Blaine couldn't remember how he got home. He could remember ever leaving the bar at all, in fact. He vaguely remembered dancing with Kurt, but he couldn't make the connection between then and now. He was lying in a bed, wasn't he? His bed.

There was a pulsing in his head, but behind it were blurry memories. Someone carrying him through the dark house. Someone taking off his clothes that probably reeked of smoke and alcohol and putting on his pajamas as he sat on the edge of the bed. Somebody scrubbing the bottoms of his feet free from dirt and brushing his teeth. He remembered a voice in his ear before he fell asleep.

"I love you," Kurt murmured as he lay Blaine down. "I know you can't hear me or you're too drunk to care, but I love you." He swung Blaine's legs onto the mattress, pulling the blankets over him. "You're an ass. But I still love you."

He brushed Blaine's hair away from his face, the curls soft and loose under his touch. He'd carefully washed all of the product out of Blaine's hair when they'd gotten back to his house. He was about to pull away when he felt Blaine's hand on the back of his neck.

"Don't go," Blaine murmured, his eyes still shut. "Kurt, don't go."

"I have to go," Kurt said softly. "I promised Finn I wasn't going to stay over."

"'M sorry, Kurt," Blaine said.

"You can tell me again when you're feeling better," Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, lazy, barely qualifying as a touch, it was so light. Kurt let it happen anyways, kissing Blaine's lips softly before pulling back. Blaine's hand fell from his neck easily.

Making sure that Blaine had everything he needed, Kurt slowly backed out of the room. He flicked the light switch off, casting the room in darkness and slowly shut the door behind him with a light click. Then, like a ghost, he was out of the house as if he'd never been there in the first place.

Blaine groaned and turned over. He pulled the pillow over his head, hoping it would silence the ringing in his ears. He felt like shit, absolute shit, and he had the dreadful feeling that he'd done a few things he should probably feel guilty about. The sun was streaming into his bedroom, the bright light completely unforgiving against his sensitive eyes. He couldn't even read the time on his clock to try and see just how late he was waking up.

By chancing a look from under his pillow, he spotted something on his bedside table: two tablets, a glass of water, and a sticky note.

He groaned and reached over to peel the note off the table.

"Take these, they'll make you feel better."

Kurt's loopy scrawl already made him feel a little bit better. He smiled to himself, even in his haze, and reached out for the pills. He tossed them back and chased them with water before collapsing on his bed again.

"You are too good to me, Kurt," he said aloud to his empty bedroom.

A/N: Well there you have it - one of my many headcanons for last night's beautiful episode. I was just flubbing around and instant messaging my friend thelonehufflepuff when the idea for this particular story came up. I ~refined~ it, obviously, and I hope you all liked it! I'm working on another one-shot inspired by "The First Time" as we speak (oh ho ho) and it might not be about what you think it is. Either way, I'm excited.

Review and let me know if y'all love drunk Blainers as much as I do :D