24. Cheerleader. I try to be as healthy as possible.
“Okay,” Gavin says and leans over Nouriel’s shoulder. “Come on, type it in.”
“But isn’t it… a bit… stalkerish?”
Gavin rolls his eyes. “It’s not like he’s going to find out. Come on.”
Nouriel bites his lips, but finally does as he’s told, and types ‘Kurt Hummel’ into Facebook’s search bar before hitting enter.
So how do we get Pauline to do this:
on the floor of a dressing room? Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s because she got to do this:
at her mother’s work. Here’s the story (and pictures when they get sent to me) of me meeting Chris, and how my mother has forever made an impression on him.
DARREN AND MIA CAME IN MATCHING COSTUMES I CAN’T
someone actually left me a prompt last night, yay! this isn’t anything special but i may or may not have another fill already in the works anyway. :)
-
“I’m not afraid of your dad,” Blaine tells the ceiling, and Kurt glances over to where Blaine is lying on his bed. They’re both already in their pajamas and Kurt is giving some serious thought to skipping his nighttime skin care regime to make more time for kissing.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Blaine says, waving his hand. “I just figure if I say it out loud it will make it more true.”
Kurt snorts. “Blaine, he gave us permission. He’s fine with it, trust me. And even if he does get mad, he’ll get mad at me, because quite frankly, Blaine, he kind of adores you. In his own special way,” Kurt adds after a second.
“Wait, really?” Blaine asks, lifting his head up, and Kurt bites back a smile when he sees Blaine’s cheeks slowly turn pink.
lovelikeashadow asked: I don’t know if you’re still doing prompts or whatnot, but you should totally write Chris and Darren all drunk and touchy-feely at the Cinco de Mayo party. I AM JUST SAYING.
DAMMIT, BOYS. Okay here is 1800 words of exactly that plus maybe a wee bit more because I have been having Crisscolfer feels for days okay bye.
*
“One tequila, two tequila, three tequila… floor!” Chris bursts into mad giggles, because yep, that’s exactly what’s happened.
He’s just laying here in the hallway, head buzzing like a swarm of happy, productive bees, barely able to feel his limbs except for the terribly pleasant tingling in his fingers and toes. He can hear the sounds of the party outside but they’re faint and far away, much further than the walls and physical distance should make them, and he’s perfectly okay with that. He’ll just stay here. It’s nice.
“Chris?”
Dammit.
He tips his head back - all the way back, straining his neck and hurting his eyeballs, they’re expanding or something - and tries to make out Darren’s face in the swimmy upside-down vision field. “Uh-huh. Hiiiii.”
“What are you doing?”
“Was tryin’ to go to the bathroom. Got stuck.”
