Sinking, Falling, Destroying - Some badboy!blaine and skank!kurt in the same fic, because there is definitely not enough of the two au's combined in this world.
Blaine leans against the wall of the gym, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and trying not to glance at the figure next to him.
It’s the damn pink hair, he’s pretty sure. And his damn clothes and his fucking smirk that he always has on his face, and Christ, he’s so hot and Blaine just wants to –
Blaine takes a deep breath and lights up his cigarette, and he’s definitely not thinking about Kurt Hummel, except for he totally is and he's forcing himself not to look at him.
He takes a long drag from the cigarette and slowly blows out the smoke, but all he can think about his how Kurt’s lip ring felt against his tongue or how his nose ring felt in his mouth or, or how his own tongue ring felt whenever it got caught somewhere in Kurt’s mouth or on his body and –
Blaine lets out a groan, and he knows that Kurt can hear it, of course, how could he not hear it, because Blaine has no self-control when it comes to anything, and he acts on impulse and desire and basically anything that isn’t meant to be acted on.
“You know,” Kurt’s voice sounds from next to him, dark and little husky from smoking. It’s the sound that Blaine never wants to tire of, and he knows what Kurt’s voice sounds like when he’s turned on and after he’s come and he never, ever wants to forget any of it. He thinks it’s magical and hot and it’s just the best fucking sound Blaine’s ever heard. “If you hadn’t just up and left me, you wouldn’t have to be staring from afar.”
Blaine huffs. God, if it was only as simple as Kurt made it sound.
“We weren’t even together,” Blaine grunts, squishing his cigarette butt against the side of the building and snubbing it out.
“Mmm, no, I guess we weren’t,” Kurt hums, his eyes darting over to Blaine quickly before he starts staring at the tree in the near distance again. “But, really, it shouldn’t surprise me that you were afraid of turning it into something.”
“You don’t know anything,” Blaine hisses, fisting his hands next to him and trying not to let himself get too angry. “You don’t know why I called it off. You don’t know why I left after that last time, or why I said I was done with everything. You don’t fucking know, so just stop assuming.”
Blaine sees Kurt tongue at his lip ring, and he knows that’s something Kurt does when he’s thinking really hard or regretting something. It makes his heart hurt a little, knowing that at one point, Kurt might have told him what he was thinking. Even when they were together – or whatever the hell they were – it wasn’t always clear whether Kurt would tell Blaine his thoughts. But he sometimes did, and that’s what counted.
But now – now Blaine doesn’t have that privilege, because he went and fucked it up, all because he was afraid of fucking up.
Blaine laughs to himself and shakes his head. It’s really ironic, now that he thinks about it. Fucking something up so that it can’t be fucked up a different way.
Blaine’s trying to decide whether or not he wants to light up another cigarette when Kurt stands up straight next to him and dusts off his leather pants, running a hand through his messy pink hair. He’s staring at Blaine with a strange intensity, one Blaine hasn’t really seen before – at least directed at him. It’s weird and frightening and a little hot, and god, Blaine wants to just grab him by the belt loops on those damn tight pants, he wants to pull him hot and flush against him and he wants –
He wants a lot, more than he’s even willing to admit in his head.
“Look, Anderson,” Kurt says as he walks right up into Blaine’s space, his eyes hard and focused on Blaine’s as he speaks. “I’m not going to pretend to understand what goes on in that fucked up head of yours. But I really think that I deserve some kind of explanation, because damn it, Blaine, you know that’s the closest I’ve gotten to anyone in a long time.”
Blaine’s heart constricts, and god, he does know that, he knows how much he probably hurt Kurt, even if Kurt won’t admit it to anyone.
“Kurt –” Blaine starts, but Kurt shakes his head and points a finger at Blaine, jamming it forcefully into his chest.
“No, you let me finish,” Kurt hisses, taking a step closer. “It was hot, and it was great and fantastic and the sex was so, so good,” Kurt says, and oh yes, Blaine knows exactly what Kurt is talking about. “And you know, for a minute there, I thought that maybe we could try and sort our fucked up lives out together. Or that maybe I’d actually consider you as more than a really damn attractive guy who I fuck every now and then. But then you go and just leave, and what the hell, Blaine?”
Blaine’s silent. This is all new information to him, everything except for the part where he leaves. He didn’t know that Kurt felt any of that, of course he didn’t, because they never fucking talked and Christ, right now is literally the longest conversation they’ve ever had, and Blaine has absolutely no idea how he feels about that.
“I think I deserve some explanation, Blaine, because you just went and you thought you could play me around, and you damn well know that nobody –”
“It’s because I love you, you fucking asshole,” Blaine hisses, fisting his hands at his sides again and taking in a deep breath through his nose. He has no idea where that even came from, but all he knows is that he needed to shut Kurt up and honestly, at this point, he’s already lost everything anyway, so what the hell does it matter?
Kurt’s silent, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a little as he stares at Blaine. Blaine isn’t sure what to make of that expression, it definitely isn’t one he’s seen before, so he looks away and just talks to the space.
“I left because I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice low. “And I didn’t want to fuck it up later after I got myself in too deep. Because if I did, and if I’d gone and fucked it up later like I know I would have, then I would have just destroy myself completely.”
Blaine’s heart is pounding, his breathing is hard again as he finishes and he doesn’t dare look at Kurt. He doesn’t know what he’ll see, he doesn’t want to know what he’ll see, so he’s just going to stand there, and if Kurt just walks away, then that’s that and there’s nothing Blaine can do about it.
“You idiot,” Kurt says after a few minutes of silence. “You goddamn, fucking idiot.”
Blaine looks over at Kurt, and he’s surprised to see that he’s shaking his head and has a hint of a smirk on his face. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but hell, he obviously doesn’t know anything anymore.
“You honestly think,” Kurt pauses and laughs, a low, breathy laugh that Blaine thinks is probably the hottest thing he’s ever heard, “God, you idiot. You honestly think that, with us, there was a chance of us not fucking up? Because, newsflash Blaine, we’re two fuck ups and when two fuck ups are in a relationship together, shit happens.”
Blaine’s not sure what to say, so he just stands there, silent and waiting. Kurt’s looking at him with an amazed expression, like he honestly can’t believe Blaine right now.
“But, guess what Blaine?” Kurt goes on once he seems to realize that Blaine isn’t going to say anything. “You already fucked it up. So, if you can ruin it and we can still patch it back up, then I’d say there’s plenty of hope for the damn future.”
Blaine’s staring at Kurt with a shocked expression now, he knows he is, because he can’t believe that Kurt is saying any of this.
“Why are you doing this?” Blaine whispers, and he sounds so broken and weak and, god, he hates this, hates these feelings and he hates feeling weak and he despises Kurt for making him like this.
“Because I guess I love you, too,” Kurt sighs and leans back against the wall next to Blaine, close enough so that their arms are touching. “And apparently, according to every other hormone ridden teenager in this damn school, love is worth the fight. So what’s one little mistake in comparison to the rest of our fucked up lives?”
Blaine’s so confused, he’s so lost and broken and, fuck, he sometimes forgets that he doesn’t think before he acts because he hasn’t even processed what he’s doing. But he’s not thinking, he just grabs Kurt’s hips and pulls him against him, and then it’s all teeth and tongue and Kurt’s warm breath against his face and his lips piercing snagging against Blaine’s. He breathes in Kurt, breaths in his smell and absorbs his feeling and, for once, he just lets himself feel.
“Maybe you’re right,” he breathes as Kurt trails his lips down his jaw, nipping at his neck and flicking his tongue out against the small tattoo sticking out on Blaine’s collarbone from under his shirt.
“I usually am,” Kurt whispers against his skin. “But it’s about damn time you realized it.”
Blaine groans and tugs Kurt back up to his lips, and just lets himself feel.
