Kurt and Blaine Wake Up Married

Chapter 1

Blaine opens one eye. It's a bad idea. He closes it again.

About an hour later, he tries again. One eye first, then, cautiously, the second. The light still hurts, and he contemplates just going to sleep again, but now he kind of wants to know where he is. He's in an unfamiliar room, but he remembers checking into a hotel yesterday, so that's okay. The curtains are drawn, but there is enough light hurting his eyes and his head that he knows it's at least midday, maybe later. The carpet is gray, the curtains have a drab floral pattern that matches that of the bedspread that is lying in a corner.

He's lying in a bed, which is good. Everything hurts, his head most of all. He guesses that he got really spectacularly drunk last night. Which isn't something he does, and it's certainly not what he came to Vegas for. He came here for...for...

He shifts on the bed, and winces. The thing that hurts most, apart from his head, is his ass. Which is weird.

There is an arm stretched across him, which at least accounts for the pressure on his chest. The arm is pale and slightly hairy. His chest is naked.

Crap.

He pokes the arm until its owner grunts and moves. Without looking at him, Blaine asks,

"Did I cheat on my boyfriend with you?"

"No."

Oh. That's good then. He closes his eyes again until he notices that something doesn't add up. He shifts again just to test it, and regrets it the moment the pain flares up again.

"Um -"

The voice sighs and says, "Your boyfriend dumped you over the phone last night. Which is the reason for the probably magnificent hangover you are having right now."

Right. He knows that. The pressure on his chest isn't just the stranger's arm that is still draped over him, it's also the fact that his heart is broken. Again. It's a wonder he isn't used to it yet.

The arm moves. The hand has long fingers with well-groomed nails. On one of the fingers sits a plain, probably white gold ring. Blaine stares at the ring for a long time until he realizes what it means.

"You cheated," he says accusingly, careful not to raise his voice. His head still hurts.

"I didn't," the voice says. "I'm single on principle. I have no time for dating."

"You're wearing a wedding ring," Blaine points out. Maybe he is wearing one to discourage people from hitting on him, if he doesn't like dating. Blaine is a little proud of his reasoning.

The arm disappears from his chest, presumably because the owner looks at the ring.

"Um," he says.

The mattress moves, and Blaine feels slightly nauseous. Only slightly, though. He is proud of that, too.

The stranger rises, and now Blaine just has to look. He catches a short glimpse on his face, which looks tired and slightly disgruntled, but somehow familiar. At least he hasn't forgotten everything. He shifts again, wishing he'd remember that. It seems such a waste to hook up with a stranger and then not even remember the sex. Although...maybe it doesn't feel so much like cheating because he doesn't remember it.

Then he gets distracted by said stranger's body. Which is...nice. Pale and freckled, muscular but slim. Long legs, a....now he bends over to retrieve a piece of clothing from the floor, and that is a really, really nice ass.

The man puts on a pair of briefs, then puts a hand on his ass and grimaces. "What did we do last night?"

"You too? Me too," Blaine says. He still doesn't feel up to moving, or he'd go look into the trash can to count condoms. If they used condoms. God, he hopes they used condoms.