In My Veins

Finally Call You Mine

"It's spiked."

Kurt looked up from the reddish liquid in the plastic cup Rachel had handed him before she had gone to prepare for her solo, which she would be singing next.

"Um, what?" he asked Blaine, who had sauntered in the side door and was now leaning with his back against the wall.

"The punch," Blaine told him. "Don't drink it. It's spiked."

Kurt grimaced down at the cup again, then laid it down on the floor in the corner, where no one would knock it over. He went and stood close to Blaine, but not too close.

"I wasn't going to," he told him loudly, over the sound of Santana singing Adele. "It's Rachel's."

Blaine nodded, then gestured towards the stage. "She sounds good."

Kurt agreed and they stood there without saying a word for a few minutes, simply watching Santana performing. People were swaying on the dance floor and the music drifted slowly out of the speakers and through the air and Kurt felt calm, at ease.

"This is the least elaborate outfit I've ever seen you wear." Kurt turned his head sideways to look at Blaine, who was running his eyes down Kurt's simple, black suit. "You look so good," Blaine told him, his golden-brown eyes finding Kurt's blue ones.

"Thanks," Kurt gave him his best smile, then looked down at Blaine's equally plain, black suit. He had a small red flower pinned to the lapel, probably to match Quinn's dress, which was a walking disaster. He had seen her earlier and wondered what would possess a person to purchase something like that. Kurt knew she was trying to conceal her bump, but if he was honest, if he had been in her position, he would have rather had everyone find out than wear something like that. "You look pretty dashing, yourself."

Blaine smiled and looked back at the stage.

"So," Kurt said. "When do you get your crown?"

Blaine frowned and turned back to look at Kurt with a sigh. "Soon, I think," he told him. "I hope I don't win. Quinn will kill me, but I hope I don't win."

"I'm sure being the king has its perks," Kurt teased.

Blaine chuckled. "It's prince, actually," he informed Kurt. "Someone complained last year, saying that the king and queen titles should be reserved for prom, or something."

"Oh," Kurt said. "Prince Blaine, then. So, if you do win, what does that make me? The prince's bit on the side?"

Blaine looked up at him, face solemn. "No," he uttered. "That still makes you my boyfriend."

"Time to announce the McKinley High Valentine's prince and princess!" Principal Figgins said cheerily into the microphone. "This is exciting! I wonder who it could be!"

Blaine frowned, because everyone knew exactly who it would be. He hoped things would be different this time, that maybe he wouldn't win, that perhaps Puck or someone could have their turn. He knew better.

The hall was relatively silent and people stared up at Figgins, who was now holding a red envelope.

"And the McKinley High Valentine's prince is," Figgins said in his strong accent. He was silent for a few seconds, in an attempt to create suspense. "Mr Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine sighed and put on a smile, because that was what he was so used to doing. Quinn gave him a half-hearted hug and then let him go. He made his way to the steps and up on to the stage, the applause now dying down.

"Congratulations, Blaine Anderson!" Figgins grinned and Blaine gave him a smile. Figgins placed the stupid crown on his head and gestured towards the 'thrones', which were just chairs with red satin material draped over them. Blaine took a seat, still smiling and wished he could be anywhere else in the world.