"champagne comes in pink?"

Sunday, June 26, 2011

“champagne comes in pink?”

because everybody seemed to really want this :)

For someone who hasn’t really slept in days, he looks pretty good.

He adjusts his hair in the mirror.

Yes, he does look good. He looks like somebody ready for a fun night out, free from restraints like boyfriends who don’t understand him. What does that even mean? Why would he say something like that to Kurt? Why?

“Are you sure you want to go out?” Finn asks. He sits in the desk chair. “I can text Rachel and tell her that we can’t —”

“I want to go out, Finn,” Kurt repeats. He may or may not have told his stepbrother that at least fifteen times in the last hour.

“You sure? ‘Cause we can just hang around here and watch movies and order pizza —”

Kurt turns around to glare at him. “I may be single, Finn, but I am not pathetic, and I refuse to become Boo Radley. Now, is that what you plan to wear?” His eyes sweep over his brother, and Finn looks down at his shirt and then back up at Kurt wordlessly. “Come on,” Kurt says. “I’m sure I can find you something on short notice.”

They pick up Rachel from her house a little after ten, and they arrive at Mike’s by ten thirty.

The party is already in full swing. Rachel whines that she wishes her fellow Glee club members would have parties limited to the Glee club, where people actually appreciate her talent. But Kurt can’t help how glad he is that this party is filled to the brim with people he doesn’t know, people who don’t feel the need to give him pitying stares.

(Much like Rachel is doing right now.)

Sure, they might be the same people who treat Kurt terribly, but he can ignore that for a night.

They’re barely in the door before Santana offers Rachel a drink, because ever since Rachel slapped Lauren, Santana has decided she can teach Rachel her ways. “I don’t know,” Rachel says, hesitant. “You know how I am when I drink —”

“It’s a party cup of pink champagne,” Santana relies. “It wouldn’t buzz a bee.”

“Champagne comes in pink?” Rachel asks curiously.

Santana grins.

Kurt really isn’t surprised when Rachel is tipsy half an hour later and then drunk in an hour, especially not after Santana says “and how about some pink lemonade-flavoured vodka?” and Rachel literally grabs the bottle away from Santana.

Finn only cradles Rachel to his chest, rubbing her back and listening intently to her drunken prattle, and Kurt kind of can’t stand the sight of them, so sweet it’s sickening. He can’t escape them, though, because no matter where he goes, Finn follows with Rachel in tow. Kurt goes to talk with Sam and Artie, and Finn and Rachel go to talk with them, too. Kurt wants to find Mike, and Finn and Rachel want to find Mike, too. Kurt needs to use the bathroom.

Finn and Rachel wait outside the door.

“By all that is holy, Finn, do you need something?” Kurt finally exclaims.

“Finny and I don’t want you to be lonely, Kurt,” Rachel says, cuddling her head against Finn’s arm like some sort of cat as she blinks contentedly at Kurt.

Kurt narrows his eyes at them both. “I don’t need you to babysit me,” he says.

“We’re not — I’m not — ” Finn protests. “I mean — you’ve just seemed really messed up since you and Blaine had that huge fight, and —”

“Look, this is a party, Finn,” Kurt says. “You should enjoy it. Have something to drink. Poor, pathetic Kurt will be okay by himself for five minutes, I promise.”

“But —”

“Goodbye, Finn!” Kurt trills. “I’ll see you later!”

—-

The next time he sees Finn, Kurt wants to claw his eyes out.

His stepbrother obviously took the have something to drink advice to heart.

Finn is on the couch, eyes glazed as he looks up at Rachel, who sits astride him, clearly giving him a lap dance in the middle of Mike Chang’s living room during a party. Finn has his hands on her hips as she sways, drawing her own hands up over her stomach and up to cup her —

Kurt hurries forward and tugs Rachel out of Finn’s lap.

She made him swear up and down this afternoon that if she drank at the party, he wouldn’t let her embarrass herself. Considering the crowd of people in the living room, most of whom had been watching the show, he knows this would count.

“That’s enough,” Kurt says.

Rachel only turns to him and lays a wet, sloppy, disgusting kiss on his cheek. “I’m a good lap dancer,” she tells him. “Sany taught me!”

Kurt should make Sany take care of her.

Then again, he hasn’t seen Santana and Brittany for a solid half hour, and he really doesn’t want to know. He simply rolls his eyes, wipes the spit off his face, and watches in exasperation as Finn lumbers to his feet and Rachel stumbles over to him.

“You’re so hot, baby,” Finn breathes, grasping her waist and hoisting her up for a kiss. They fall back onto the couch, Rachel giggling madly.

“How did they get that wasted?” Sam says, coming up to stand beside Kurt with wide eyes. He offers Kurt a soda. “You’re the other DD, right?”

Nodding, Kurt takes the Pepsi. “I left them alone for an hour,” he tells Sam. “Apparently, that was a bad idea. I won’t make that mistake again. Okay, okay, that’s enough.” He really doesn’t need to see Finn mount Rachel on the couch.

And, well, he really is responsible for them, isn’t he?

(It’s not like he has anything better to do.)

“You want me to take one, and you take the other?” Sam offers. “I just drove Mercy home, so I’m on my own.”

Kurt glances at Finn, now with Rachel in his lap, holding a beer bottle to her lips and kissing her cheek repeatedly as she drinks. Seriously? “You take Rachel,” Kurt says. “I’ll take Finn.”

Sam nods and touches Rachel gently on the arm, as if to draw her away from Finn.

And Finn drags Rachel backwards, clutching her to his chest and glaring furiously at Sam. “No,” he says. “Nu uh. ‘M not sharing.” He wraps his arms possessively around Rachel, as if to protect her from Sam, and she only hums against his neck as she peppers him with kisses. “Only I get Rachel. Go away.”

Rachel giggles. “Finny loves me so much.” She tugs on his ear lobe with her teeth.

Kurt has handled Finn drunk, and he’s handled Rachel drunk, but drunk together?

They’re a nightmare.

“Okay,” he says. “Rachel will come with me, Finn, because I like boys, remember? And you stay with Sam.” It takes a few tries, but he pulls Rachel away from Finn and up onto her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asks. “Why isn’t Finn coming?”

Kurt doesn’t reply. He only steers her into the kitchen. “Sit,” he instructs. She does, thank goodness.

He starts to fill a cup of with water, because she needs to sober up somehow, and he glances at the kitchen table.

And of course Rachel isn’t there. She’s already run off. He doesn’t even have time to mutter under his breath, however, before she wraps her tiny arms around him and presses herself into his back, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades. She hugs far too tightly for someone so small.

“I’m sad, Kurt,” she tells him, a pout in her voice.

He pats her arm. “Because I separated you from Finn?” he asks knowingly.

“No, silly. Because you‘re sad.”

The words, so unexpected but so clearly laced with honesty, send a jolt through him. He doesn’t know what to say, but she doesn’t give him the chance to come up with something.

“I know how bad it hurts,” she whispers. “It hurts so, so bad. Your heart. It just hurts, and it feels like it’ll never not hurt again. Like you won’t be you anymore, you’ll be hurt you forever and ever. That’s how it feels when you lose somebody you love. Like you become hurt you instead of regular you. And it hurts.”

“Rachel,” he whispers.

“But you might not have lost him, Kurt,” she goes on. “I’ll bet he fights. I don’t like to gamble, but it’s not a gamble, because who wouldn’t fight, you know? You know?”

He really doesn’t.

“I’d fight for you,” Rachel says, her voice soft with affection even as her words slur with alcohol. “If I ever thought you might not be my Kurt anymore, I’d fight for you. Blaine will, too, I bet.” She squeezes a little tighter. “Because you’re just the best, Kurt.”

Kurt manages to turn around in her arms and hug her, kissing the top of her head as he blinks back tears. He hasn’t cried yet, and he refuses to now. “Thank you,” he murmurs. She pulls back to look up at him with her big, glazed eyes. He smiles at her, and he turns to pick up the water. “Here —”

“I know what might make you feel better!” she says, and her pink face is suddenly alight.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll sing for you! What do you want me to sing? I’ll sing you anything you want! How about some Celine Dion? Celine always makes me feel better! Oh, I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” She stumbles backwards, smoothing out her skirt as she takes a deep breath.

“Every night in my dreams, / I see you, I feel you, / That is how I know you go on!”

She starts to belt out the song, drawing attention to herself. She stands clutching a hand to her chest and squeezes her eyes shouts as she pours herself into the lyrics. He smiles a little at the sight, because he can’t not. He and Rachel have a lot in common, they really do, but the truth is that she has a kind of optimism and earnestness that somebody somehow managed to bully out of him.

And he kind of loves that nobody has taken that from her yet.

“Near, far, WHEREVER YOU ARE!” she bellows. “I believe that the heart does go on. / Once more you open the door, /And you’re here in my heart, / AND MY HEART WILL GO ON!”

“That’s my baby!” Finn cries from across the room, smacking Sam on the head and pointing at Rachel.

Kurt only shakes his head and lets Rachel finish her song. Afterward, she drunkenly curtsies, running into the wall, before she turns eagerly to him. “Well?” she says. “Did it touch you or —” Her eyes grow impossibly bigger. “— or did it touch you deeply?”

“Neither,” he says indulgently. “It touched me very deeply.”

Rachel claps and tackles him with another hug. He pats her back, rolling his eyes knowingly when Tina catches his gaze. Rachel’s hot breath hits his ear at the same time, though. “You’ll be okay, Kurt,” she whispers.

She pulls back a moment later, pats his cheek, and tells him matter-of-factly, “I need to make-out with Finny now, ‘cause he’s the best maker-outer ever!” She flounces away before he can stop her.

But he thinks maybe he has a soft spot for drunk Rachel.

—-

He does not have a soft spot for drunk Rachel.

Honestly, he takes his eyes off her for one minute to talk with Mike and Tina, and then he finds her spread eagle on the kitchen table, Finn on top of her, his head actually under her t-shirt, and his hands —

“Stop that right now, you animals!” Kurt screeches. Do they never give it a rest?

He tears Finn backwards, and Rachel looks at him like he pulled a shotgun on Barbra Steisand.

He can barely open his mouth to tell her to calm down before Finn picks him up by the waist — literally picks him up — carries him two feet away, plops him down, and lurches back to Rachel, who giggles and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I’m still here, you giant baboon,” Kurt says, exasperated. They ignore him, naturally. He sees Rachel slip a hand down between them, and when those tiny little fingers go for the belt buckle, Kurt storms forward, breaking them apart and waving his hands in their faces.

“You can not fornicate in Mike’s kitchen, okay? No. No.”

A part of him thinks he should simply let them … go at it, but again his promise to Rachel that he wouldn’t let her do anything embarrassing surfaces, and he knows this would top her list, especially when a random freshmen breezes into the kitchen, probably high, to find something to eat.

“Okay,” Finn says. “We can go into the living room. There’s more beer there, anyway.” He grins proudly at his logic before he grasps Rachel around the back, sweeping one arm under her knees, and lifts her up. She giggles and clings to him.

“You’re so strong, Finny,” she whispers, sounding genuinely awed.

“You’re so pretty,” he replies. “You’re like — you’re like —” His eyes go wide. “You’re like a fairy princess, baby.”

Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes; there isn’t anyone to appreciate the gesture. “Okay,” he says, stepping in front of them. “For the sake of your health, my sanity, and the eyes of everyone in the living room, I think we might need to head home.”

They protest a little, but Finn and Rachel are both surprisingly pliant when drunk as long as they can keep each other company. Kurt manages a quick goodbye to Sam, and he waves at Artie, before he steers Finn and Rachel out of the house. By the time they reach the car, Rachel is somehow riding piggyback on Finn. Kurt doesn’t know how that happened, but he doesn’t much care.

Rachel deftly crawls in the car, stretches out on her back, and crooks her finger at Finn.

Kurt shoots his hand forward to stop Finn. “Sit up like a big girl, Rachel,” he says.

He then personally buckles both teenagers in.

There is a reason he never babysits. He doesn’t have the patience for children, not yet. It’s simply his luck, though, that his two closest friends, his goofy stepbrother with his crazy girlfriend, apparently turn into horny four-year-olds when drunk.

(The animal sweaters should have tipped him off to the child underneath, he thinks.)

They start to make out before he even drives out of the neighborhood. He grits he teeth and pretends not to notice when Rachel moves to sit in Finn’s lap. But six minutes into the drive he has no choice. He pulls the car over and storms around to the back, tearing open the door and glaring at them.

“I don’t do know why you feel the need to shove your various body parts down her shirt,” he says, “but pull your hand out, Hudson. There will be no groping in my Hummer.”

Finn and Rachel only stare at him.

Rachel has a fresh hickey on her neck, her eyes black, and she smiles suddenly, this little smile of understanding. “Kurt,” she says. She reaches out and pats his chest. “Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.”

“Yes, Rachel, I know my name.”

“Kurt,” she repeats. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Finn can touch my boobs. He’s my boyfriend. It’s allowed. Kurt, I gave him permission.” She pats his chest again and smiles at him, as if everything is okay now.

Kurt wants to bang his head against the side of the car.

“It’s not the who, Rachel, it’s the where. Hand. Out. Hudson.”

Finn, huffing, pulls his hand out from under her shirt.

“Good. Now I expect to see both your hands visible and placed only in appropriate places the entire rest of the drive. That goes for you, too, Berry. I expect to see four hands in visible and in innocent positions at all times. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel says, and she salutes him. If she were anyone else, he would be offended at the mockery. He only shakes his head at her utter sincerity, however.

“Can I hold her hand?” Finn asks.

Kurt snorts despite himself. “Yes, Finn, you can hold her hand.” He steps back and starts to shut the door, only to grit his teeth. “That is her butt, Finn, not her hand! Okay. Rachel, out of the car.”

They both protest again, but when Kurt is back on the road, Rachel is buckled into the front seat beside him, happily chattering about how her dads didn’t let her ride in the front until she turned thirteen, because airbag regulations said she was too small.

He manages to survive the rest of the ride, and he helps his wards stumble into the empty house.

He almost wishes Carole and his dad were here to reprimand Finn and Rachel, but then again if Carole and his dad hadn’t gone away for the weekend, Finn and Rachel probably wouldn’t have allowed themselves to drink this much. Kurt ushers them upstairs, locks Rachel in the bathroom with her pyjamas, and tells Finn to put on his in his bedroom.

(After a loud crash, he worries Rachel might have killed herself, but it looks like she did more damage to the shampoo rack in the shower than to herself.)

He makes them both brush their teeth, and he gives them ibuprofen, along with a bottle of water both. Finally, they sit side-by-side of Finn’s bed, looking up expectantly at Kurt as if for more instructions. “Now,” he says. “I want you to drink as much of that water as you can before you go to sleep, okay?”

They both nod, even as Rachel raises her hand. That can’t possibly be good.

“Yes, Rachel?” He sighs.

“May Finn and I have sex now, please?”

He rolls his eyes. But they’re now safely at home, all alone, and he doesn’t need to look after them anymore, does he? “Give me a five minute head start to find my earplugs.”

Honestly, he doesn’t have a right to deny them. They’re happy and in love. They’ve certainly had their face share of misery, to boot. They’ve worked through a lot to be here, and he shouldn’t begrudge them that.

He turns to leave, their delighted smiles fresh in his mind. He pauses in the hallway, though, because he isn’t sure what, if any, kind of protection they intend to use. He hurries to his room, finds the box on condoms under the bed, and returns to Finn’s bedroom.

“Okay, this is my last demand,” he starts. “You need to —”

He claps his hand over his face.

”That was not five minutes!” he shouts. How did Finn even pull her shirt off that quickly? He throws the condoms at them and turns point blank out of the room. Fond as he is of them both, he prefers them clothed, thank you very much.

—-

He settles downstairs in his basement bedroom, flipping on the television. He should probably try to go to sleep, but he doesn’t simply want to lie in bed by himself, free to let his mind focus on the fact that only last week he and Blaine had planned to spend this weekend together. And he knows that’s exactly what would happen.

His head snaps to the stairs when he hears footsteps.

Finn and Rachel appear a moment later, holding hands and looking at him with soft, drunk eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, wary.

“We thought you might miss us,” Rachel says, and they both plop down onto the couch beside him, sandwiching him between them. “So we came downstairs. You can’t miss us if we’re here.”

Finn smiles at Kurt and wraps an arm around his shoulders, even as Rachel leans against his other side, snuggling her head into his arm. “What’re we watching?” Finn asks. “It’s cool.”

“It’s an infomercial,” Kurt replies, bemused.

“You know, I’ve always wanted my own multipurpose knife set,” Rachel says.

“Me, too, babe,” Finn says. “It has so many purposes and stuff.”

“Like cutting vegetables,” Rachel says.

“And rope,” Finn suggests. Rachel nods in agreement.

They continue to talk, and it turns out Rachel has always wanted just about everything the shopping network has to offer her. (“Just the other day, I thought to myself: wouldn’t it be nice to have my own silver dollar collection with a custom case?”) Of course, before too long both Finn and Rachel fall asleep against Kurt.

They never say anything about his stray tears.

And he really hopes that Rachel is right, that he and Blaine do find a way to work past this, that Blaine does fight for him, but if they don’t, if he doesn’t, Kurt won’t be entirely alone, will he?

He falls asleep to the thought.

Fin.