Kurt may have said that nothing had changed, but in a way everything had changed. The knowledge that Kurt wanted him, wanted to be with him, was enough to keep Blaine in good spirits. It kept him from feeling stung when Kurt avoided him in the halls at school. It made it easy to slip into habits with Santana because when he was happy, it was easy to pretend to be happy with her. Any reassurance he needed was in the knowledge that Kurt was trying, was working on it, and they both knew the truth.

Neither of them expected the truth to almost come out at a glee club Thanksgiving party.

Really, the only thing that made it a Thanksgiving party was that it took place on the Friday night of their break, but other than that it wasn’t exactly themed. The only real theme was that Puck had managed to get a hold of a lot of alcohol and Rachel’s parents (her two dads, Blaine noted) were out of town visiting some other family, so it was essentially a free for all. Blaine wasn’t sure why he was surprised that Rachel had a stage in her basement, complete with microphones and karaoke machine, but there it was. 

Santana had been waiting for him out on the porch, and when he got there she practically dragged him down to the basement. Rachel had tried to pass out drink tickets to limit everyone's alcohol consumption, but she'd been the only one worried about it and was therefore easily outvoted. Blaine didn't have plans to get drunk, because that would have been a little out of his comfort zone, but he figured that a drink or two couldn't hurt. He'd been in a good mood, he was willing to be a tad adventurous, and he doubted Santana would let him get away with any less.

It was actually fun, being around the glee club members outside of their normal rehearsal time and the confines of the school. That was what he'd been missing the most, he realized – the camaraderie that the Warblers had. True, they'd all lived in the same place and that made it easy for them to see each other outside of classes and practices, but they had been his best friends because of it. Maybe that was one of the other things the New Directions were missing: an overall feeling of kinship between the group. If a party was going to bring them all together, so be it, as long as there was something.

Santana pressed a cup into one of his hands and slipped her own hand into his other one, taking a swig from her drink and giggling at the impression that Sam was doing from across the room. She'd murmured something to him on their way down that he needed to stay near her once she'd started drinking, because she tended to kiss everyone otherwise and she didn't feel like having to deal with a jealous, angry boyfriend. It had taken him a minute to realize that she'd meant him because he had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of getting angry over her kissing someone else. She did that a lot with Brittany, he was sure, so it wasn't like it was something he wasn't used to. It made sense that he rightfully shouldn't have been, though.

Whatever she'd made him to drink was good, if not for a slight burning sensation in the back of his throat as it went down, and the more he drank of it the more warm and relaxed he felt. He could understand why people drank, if that was how it made them feel. He felt loose, calm, and definitely more than okay with being at the party, his arm slipped around Santana's waist to keep her in close as he kept a inconspicuous eye on Kurt from across the room. Brittany was clearly enjoying the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, or at least he figured she was considering how she'd been draping herself over Kurt more than usual. That was perfectly fine, though.

Not surprisingly, Rachel was the first one to get up on the stage and perform, singing her heart out to "Don't Rain on My Parade.” Blaine wondered how often she did that, though – performed on that stage for herself or her dads or even someone else, putting on a show and clearly enjoying every second of it. Based on how she behaved in glee club, and what he'd experienced of her in other facets of school, he would guess fairly often. She was driven, very passionate about performing, and he could only guess that she would take every opportunity she could to do so.

In the end, it was Santana who dragged him up on stage first. There had been a few other solos, a botched duet or two – thanks to one or both members of the duo not knowing the song as well as they thought - but Santana was insistent. "Come on, you're gonna sing most of it and I'll just come in on the bridge part, you'll be fine," she said, her eyes sparkling as she scrolled through the song choices and picked their song. "And don't even pretend like you don't know it, you sing it in my car all the time."

Blaine would have argued that he sang lots of songs in her car all the time, even if not all of them should really be heard by anyone, but he didn't have time thanks to the music kicking in. His gaze swept over to Santana and his eyes widened, but she just offered him a wink. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the small screen, though he didn't need any help with the words.

“This was never the way I planned, not my intention…” he sang, low and almost softly into the microphone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like singing Katy Perry, because he really did, but he knew exactly what Santana was doing. Why else would she have picked "I Kissed a Girl" for him to sing? Her minimal backup vocals were enough to keep people from making insinuations about her, but he knew she’d picked it because him singing it was bound to be amusing to a very select group of people.

Kurt had definitely sat up a little straighter once he’d started singing, breaking out of his conversation with Finn to look up at the stage and catch Blaine’s eye. Okay, so maybe Blaine didn’t mind singing it if it was going to make the corners of Kurt’s mouth quirk up like that. He was nothing if not a performer, after all, and that meant he should give it his all. At least, that’s what he told himself as he grabbed Santana’s hand and spun her into him, making her laugh and press a kiss against his cheek. It was good he had Santana there to sing to, so he could make himself not look at Kurt as he sang “I kissed a girl just to try it, I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it…”

Santana’s hand slipped over his on the microphone, despite the fact that she could have used her own, their fingers overlapping as she looked up at him with a soft smirk. She tilted the microphone toward herself so she could take over, and he bit his lip with a grin. “Us girls we are so magical,” she sang, her voice sultry as she ran her free hand up through the back of his hair and then down his chest, gripping his shirt a little in her fingers and tugging. “Soft skin, red lips, so kissable. Hard to resist, so touchable – too good to deny it. It’s no big deal, it’s innocent…”

By the time the song was over, her fingers had twisted entirely into the front of his shirt and he was honestly concerned she might try to rip it off him. She settled for pulling him in for a kiss, which he should have been expecting but really hadn’t been. He caught the brief flicker of sadness on Kurt’s face when they pulled apart, but he knew it wasn’t really him who had caused it. It wasn’t really any of them – it was just something that happened.

Brittany apparently turned into a wild woman when she’d been drinking, but Kurt managed to convince her to keep her clothes on after she’d been a split second away from her shirt coming completely off. At least everyone at the party knew she was wearing a cute pink polka dot bra, but he wasn’t sure if any of them needed that knowledge. Santana looked annoyed that Kurt had put an end to it, but Blaine distracted her with another drink and it was quickly forgotten.

The real danger came when Santana had pulled Brittany away to get shots of tequila, and Blaine had already had at least three of whatever drink she’d been making him. Kurt made his way over and plopped down on the couch beside him, draining what was left in his cup before setting it aside. “We should sing together.”

“Yeah, we should!” Blaine replied enthusiastically, patting him on the shoulder lightly. He’d wanted to pat him on the leg, but he thought maybe that could have been seen badly. “I’ve wanted to sing with you ever since I heard you sing that first day at glee club auditions, or whatever those were called cause they weren’t really auditions, let’s be real—”

“Definitely,” Kurt said, his eyes slightly wide and unfocused thanks to whatever he’d been drinking, and he nodded. “I don’t think there’s anyone planning to go after Mercedes, so we can.”

“What do you want to sing?” he asked, his hand still lingering on Kurt's shoulder, but that wasn’t unusual between friends, he figured. “You choose!”

“Dooooo,” Kurt began, drawing out the vowel of the word as he tilted his head and thought, “you know the Neon Trees?”

“Hell yeah!” Blaine grinned and hopped up to his feet, a little too fast for his head because he immediately felt like it was swimming, but a few seconds of swaying on his feet later and he felt steady again. Kurt got up and they both made their way over to the stage as Mercedes belted out the last note of her song, and after a few wrong buttons being punched on the machine, they got the music to start. Kurt motioned back and forth between them trying to ask who should start as they grabbed their microphones, and Blaine raised his hand in response.

“Here we go again, I kind of want to be more than friends. So take it easy on me, I’m afraid you’re never satisfied…”

“Here we go again, we’re sick like animals we play pretend. You’re just a cannibal and I’m afraid I won’t get out alive…” Kurt sang back, biting his lip with a grin as they both joined in to sing “No I won’t sleep tonight” and launch into the chorus together.

They traded off like that, almost as if it was practiced, and completely lost themselves in singing to each other. The rest of the party might as well have not been happening, the other people easily couldn’t have been there, for all they cared or noticed. It was definitely the alcohol’s fault that they let themselves be so loose, little touches to each other’s arms or hands, not to mention singing a song that clearly had implications. The slight silence that followed once the song ended pulled them back to reality and to the realization that they’d maybe gone a step too far.

Blaine hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close to Kurt, but he barely would have had to lean forward to kiss him, and he very much wanted to do just that. Except no one in the room was moving, everyone’s eyes locked on them, and he knew he’d done something wrong already and shouldn’t add to the list. The moment felt frozen, like no one knew what to do or say or how to react, and he couldn’t look away from the way Kurt’s eyelashes were fanning out over his cheeks and how his breath was falling across his lips like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. He’d seen Kurt like that so many times, usually tangled in the sheets of his bed, and he’d always gotten to kiss him then.

“WOOHOO!” Santana whooped, breaking the tension and drawing some attention away from them. “Blaine, get your ass down here! I want to do body shots!” She seemed to consider her words for a moment before amending herself. “Not off your ass. Other parts of you. You know what, just come here.”

As it turned out, Santana seemed to be perfectly fine doing body shots off almost anywhere else of him, though he tried his hardest to keep his clothes on as much as possible in the process. She’d taken great joy in undoing his bow tie and unbuttoning his polo so she could lick salt off his clavicle, and he was almost completely certain she was licking him as much as she was to help him and his image – and hers as well – recover from the song he’d sung with Kurt. There was no other reason for her to practically suck the rogue lime juice off his jaw like she did. Apparently she was aware of the giant need for damage control, and she was going to help as much as she could.

He wanted to leave, to go home and drink at least a few glasses of water before going to bed. Staying at the party any later would be a bad idea and he knew it, because he’d already proven himself incapable of thinking straight and making good decisions. Besides, he wanted to scrub off his skin to get rid of all the salt, lime, tequila, and saliva left over from Santana and her mouth. He was sobering up fast, or at least he was pretty sure he was, and he found Rachel to say goodbye and thank her for hosting them. Manners shouldn’t be abandoned, not even when there was alcohol involved and the hostess seemed way past tipsy herself.

“Dude, you okay to drive?” Mike asked him as he pulled on his coat.

“Yeah, of course,” Blaine replied, and promptly tripped up the stairs, catching himself before he fell completely. “Fuck.”

“I can take you home,” Mike offered, easily getting up from his spot on the floor. “I only had one, and it was a while ago. Figured someone should be able to drive people around, right? Besides, my dad would kill me if he knew I was drinking.” Blaine was fairly certain his parents wouldn’t be pleased, but it wasn’t like they could do much about it. Hell, how would they know he hadn’t been drinking and partying at Dalton? Probably because they trusted him not to, but he wasn’t about to feel guilty about having a few drinks at a party with his friends. Mike leaned down to say something to Tina, probably telling her where she was going because she glanced up at Blaine and nodded. “Come on, let’s hit the road.”

Mike’s arm was solid around his shoulders as they walked up the stairs and out to the driveway, and Blaine slid into the passenger seat of his car with a sigh. He fumbled with the seatbelt but had it buckled by the time Mike got in and started the engine, so he took that as a victory. “Can you give me directions? Or at least an address? I mean, I’ve got GPS, so…”

“Um, 750 Loretta Place? It’s right after the bend in the road,” Blaine said, making a curving motion with his hand. “Or before the bend, I guess, depending on how you go.”

“Got it,” Mike said with a nod, pulling out onto the street and heading in that direction. The radio played quietly in the background and they didn’t talk, and Blaine closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. It was a quick drive to his parents’ house, and with how the rest of the world seemed to be spinning around him it felt even shorter. Mike pulled into the driveway and parked near the walk up to the front door, and he paused with his hand on the keys in the ignition, looking over at Blaine. “You okay to get inside by yourself?”

“I want to say yes,” Blaine mumbled, not moving to undo his seatbelt or get out of the car. “But I thought I could walk up stairs at Rachel’s house and that didn’t work, so I doubt the stairs inside my house will be less trouble.”

“No problem,” Mike replied, killing the engine and getting out of the car. He opened the passenger door and Blaine frowned a little at the lack of cold against his forehead, but the crisp air of the night was quickly making up for it. His seatbelt was undone and Mike had practically hauled him up out of his seat before he realized he should probably be moving of his own volition. It wasn’t like he was incapable of that, just slightly dizzier than he had been when he’d left the party, which he chalked up to the car ride. He was glad Mike was there to help him up the sidewalk.

“Sorry to be so much trouble,” he murmured as they got up to the front door and he fumbled his keys out of his pocket, raising them up right in front of his eyes so he could find the right one in the dim illumination being given off by the porch light. Mike shrugged a little, indicating that it wasn’t really any trouble, but Blaine still felt like it was. He unlocked the door and let them in, blinking a few times into the darkness and pulling his phone out of his pocket to give them some way to see.

It struck him that Mike was the first person from McKinley who had been to his house that wasn’t Kurt. Not even Santana had, which seemed bizarre but it wasn’t like their charade extended past the McKinley and the people therein. She spent her free time with Brittany, he assumed, like he spent his with Kurt. But Mike being there was a strange moment, and thankfully Blaine had enough of his head about him to realize that he needed to tell him how to leave the house without leaving the front door deadbolt unlocked.

“There’s, um, there’s a key,” he said quietly, rubbing his forehead and taking a step forward, and Mike’s hand gripped his arm just above the elbow to keep him steady. “Outside, if you reach behind the numbers on the house, the seven… there’s a key stuck to the back of it with a magnet.”

“I’ll lock the deadbolt when I leave,” Mike whispered. “Now, where’s your room?”

Blaine motioned toward the stairs, and they made their way up as carefully and quietly as they could. He’d never felt clumsier in his life, but at least Mike was there to keep him from falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. He didn’t know what inspired him to do it but when Mike turned to go, Blaine wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a good friend, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, not sounding startled or surprised by the gesture, patting him on the back. “You’re a good guy, Blaine. You get some sleep, take some aspirin tomorrow, and I’ll see you on Monday, alright? Don’t forget to go back and get your car.”

“Mkay,” Blaine murmured, letting him go and crossing over to his bed after he heard the door to his room latch shut.

All thoughts of getting clean were abandoned when his bed was so close, and he barely even made the effort to get out of his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks, his shirt, and he almost tripped over himself as he wriggled out of his pants because they got stuck around his ankles, but eventually he was down to his boxers and crawled up into bed and under the multiple blankets piled on top of it to keep him warm. The taste of tequila and lime juice was still lingering on his lips, but if he concentrated hard enough he could imagine the taste of Kurt, as if he’d gotten to kiss him like he’d wanted to after their song. And with that thought in his head, he fell asleep.

***

Blaine was woken up by a sharp knock on his door, and all he could manage in response was a grunt. He’d tried to make words happen, but they just plain hadn’t. The knocking had made his head feel like it was going to burst, and he buried his face in his pillow and pulled the covers up over past his head as the door swung open.

“Honey, where’s your car?” his mom asked, and her footsteps came close to the bed and she tugged down on the blankets. “Blaine, are you – why do you smell like a bar, Blaine?” Her tone had gone from concerned to annoyed very quickly.

“Car… Rachel’s,” he mumbled, motioning with his hand as if somehow pointing to Rachel’s house. “Friend drove me home.” He rolled over a little, his body feeling stiff and cramped, and he managed to open one of his eyes half-way to look up at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Blaine,” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re… I know this transition to your new school was kind of rough, and I’m sorry that you couldn’t stay at Dalton. You’ve seemed to be happier recently but I know it’s not been easy. I just wish you would talk to me or your father instead of –”

“Oh no, Mom, I didn’t – because of – no, that’s not –” Blaine stammered, not sure of which thought track to follow and just kind of blurted them all out. He shifted onto his back and rubbed his face, mentally cursing the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “No. It wasn’t because I was upset or anything,” he started again slowly, taking the time to let the words form before he said them. “It was just a party at a friend’s house, that’s all. Not because of sad. Social… thing.”

“A friend drove you home?”

“Yes, Mike, he’s… glee club,” he said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaning. “He’s nice, he drove, he – he locked the door, right?” He pulled his hands away to look up at her.

“Mhmm, the door was locked,” she replied, her fingers stroking through his hair again. “How miserable do you feel?”

“Pretty miserable.”

“Good. Hopefully that’ll keep you from doing that again,” she said, rising up off the bed and giving him a look. “You aren’t going to do this again, right?”

“Right. Alcohol bad,” Blaine said, wrinkling his nose and giving her two thumbs down.

“That’s my boy.” She smiled down at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Now get up, it’s nearly noon and you’re wasting your life away. We’ll go get your car later today, alright?”

“Thanks Mom,” he murmured, waiting until the door was closed behind her to roll back over and burrow further into bed. It took a good bit of effort, and a few more minutes of lying there and convincing himself to move, before he was able to get up and stumble his way into the bathroom for a ridiculously long shower that was half comprised of just standing there and the rest scrubbing at his collarbone, neck, and face. He appreciated what Santana had done, but he felt like he couldn’t get the feel of her off his skin.

Blaine had barely gotten out of the shower and dressed before he heard his name being called up the stairs. He ran his hand through his still-damp hair and slowly trotted down, stopping a few steps from the bottom of the staircase when he saw Kurt, Santana, and Brittany standing there with his mom. “Uh…”

“Well, you are grounded, which I failed to mention before,” his mom said, her hands on her hips. His friends all looked slightly bashful, though clearly better off hangover-wise than he was. “But seeing as how Kurt and these girls are already here…”

“Sorry, Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said quietly, his gaze flitting up to Blaine. “If you want, we can take Blaine to get his car back?”

“Thank you, Kurt. That would actually be very helpful. Don’t take too long, you hear?” she said, pointing up at Blaine.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, and he shouldn’t have saluted, he really shouldn’t have but he still wasn’t feeling quite himself and it just kind of happened. Brittany tittered from her spot next to Kurt, and his mom looked caught between annoyed and amused. He pointed up the stairs behind him, glad for a reason to escape. “I… need shoes.”

“I’ll help!” Brittany said cheerfully, and she trailed after him up the stairs. He didn’t have to look back to know that his mom was probably staring after them, confusion spread across her features. Brittany caught his hand when they reached the top of the stairs, and she squeezed it lightly and he led her to his room. “I’m sorry your mom is mad.”

“She’s not mad,” Blaine replied, shaking his head slightly. “Not really. Just disappointed, I think.” He let go of her hand to sit on the edge of his bed and tug on some socks and shoes. “You okay?”

“Me? I’m fine,” she offered with a shrug. “You look nice with fluffy hair.”

“Fluffy hai—oh.” He reached up, touching his hair, and he bit his lip at the lack of product. It was going to have to do; he didn’t want to keep everyone there under the watchful eye of his mom just so he could fix his hair. “Thanks. Ready?”

“Ready.” He grabbed his coat and tugged it on as they headed down the stairs, and he gave his mom a quick hug before they all went out the door. Santana nudged his hip as they headed out to Kurt’s car – the only one in the driveway.

“Want some coffee?” Kurt asked, glancing over at him as he slid into the front seat. “Lima Bean?”

“God, yes,” Blaine said, leaning back against the seat as he buckled in.

Kurt drove them there quickly, and Blaine and Brittany claimed a table for them while he and Santana got their drinks. Coffee sounded like the best thing Blaine had ever heard of, and he welcomed it with both hands when Kurt held it out to him, sliding into the seat across from him. Santana rested her head against Blaine's shoulder briefly before brushing her fingertips along his jaw.

“Sorry about all that,” she said, prodding her fingers along his collarbone. He winced, swatting her hand away from the hickey she’d left. It was covered by his shirt, she’d jabbed him with her fingernail.

“Lemme alone,” he mumbled, nudging her off his shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at him and he took a sip of coffee, humming at the heat and taste as he swallowed. “So, um, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Kurt murmured, his hands wrapping tightly around his coffee cup. “I shouldn’t have suggested – we shouldn’t have – I had one too many, I think, and I messed it all up.”

“Hey, no,” Blaine said, and he stopped himself just short of reaching over and taking Kurt’s hand. “It’s not like you got up there and sang by yourself, I was right beside you. I could have said no, picked a different song, any of it. We were both kind of drunk but everyone else had been drinking too so maybe they’ll have forgotten or assumed that they imagined stuff. If we don’t act like anything weird happened, maybe they won’t remember that it did.”

“It wasn’t weird,” Brittany chimed in, slurping from her hot chocolate. “I thought it was good!”

“Well no, it wasn’t weird, I meant…” Blaine trailed off, glancing between the other three. “You know what I meant.”

“No, I do,” Kurt said with a nod. “I hope you’re right. Maybe we’re imagining how things went, putting the worst case scenarios in our heads as truth. We were all, you know—”

“Drunk,” Santana supplied helpfully.

“Yes.” Kurt gave her a look, and then shook his head. “Let’s just hope you’re right.”

“Not that I really want to go back, but we should probably get my car before I get grounded even more,” Blaine said, taking another drink of his coffee. “Considering I don’t even know how long I’m grounded currently, and my mom wasn’t actually that mad yet, I don’t want to risk it.”

As much as he wanted to kiss Kurt before he got out of his Navigator, especially considering that he didn’t know when he was going to see him outside of school again, he couldn’t. Not there in front of Rachel’s house when everything was already kind of on edge. He settled for a squeeze of their hands, and he gave Santana and Brittany a little wave before he got into his own car and headed home. He might have been grounded, and concerned about school the following Monday, but he had to believe that they would be alright – for all of their sakes.