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16 March 2012 @ 02:31 pm
Fic: Meat Sweats, Prancerella, Hell Harpy and Octopussy: A Bromance  
Title: Meat Sweats, Prancerella, Hell Harpy and Octopussy: A Bromance
Rating: R for naughty words and innuendo
Word Count: 4650
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Cooper, Santana
Spoilers: everything aired and a character spoiler for 3x15
Warnings: homophobia, the mention of abuse by a family member
Summary: The weekend at Blaine's house was meant to be quiet, but it didn't quite turn out that way.

So, this is nearly 5000 words of absolute foolishness, with some serious thrown in for good measure.

And there is a tiny bit of Sebastian and Karofsky, just to tie up some loose ends in lovely little bows so I can be rid of them.

If you've never heard any of the songs mentioned in this fic, you should YouTube them. They are truly horrific.

The weekend at Blaine's house was meant to be quiet. Kurt was staying over with his father's permission, due to the fact that Blaine's older brother Cooper was in town and had promised that the boys would be sleeping in separate beds (Cooper justified this little fib with his assumption that there would be no actual sleeping involved in their bedroom activities) and that Kurt would be at school on time on Monday morning.

And maybe it started out that way, but by ten o'clock on Friday night Kurt is well on his way to being full-drunk and Blaine is already way past that.

“Wii karaoke!” Blaine suggests brightly, but Kurt is quick to shoot him down.

“Ugh, no. Drunken karaoke gives me horrid flashbacks.”

Blaine's face falls. “I'm such an asshole.”

“I was only kidding, Blaine. Jeez.”

“Nope. He wasn't,” Cooper teases, poking Blaine in the side. “And you are a total asshole.”

“Oh God, I am,” Blaine moans and throws himself face first onto the sofa. “I'm the worst best friend and boyfriend ever.”

Cooper laughs at his brother's dramatics and Kurt glares at him and goes to reassure Blaine that none of what he said is true.

After a few whispers and kisses and no small number of eyerolls from Cooper, Blaine sits up again with a smile stretching across his face. “We should order food,” he says.

“Ooh,” Cooper says, brightening. “How about that place with the ribs? Don't they deliver?”

“Gross,” Kurt protests. “I am not eating that. I care about my heart, thanks.”

But Cooper ignores him, his eyes far-off and dreamy. “Remember that time they had all you an eat ribs and wings?”

“And you nearly poisoned yourself? They never had that special again because you ate so much,” Blaine says with a laugh.

“God, I did, didn't I? I had a serious case of the meat sweats after that.”

Kurt pulls a face, looking absolutely horrified. “You are substantially less attractive than you were five seconds ago,” he informs Cooper.

“HA!” Blaine says, a finger pointing at his brother accusingly. “He said you're not attractive!”

“What?” Cooper shakes his head. “No, no, no. That's not how it's supposed to work. I'm the older brother – you're supposed to have a crush on me! You're upsetting the natural order here, Kurt.” With another sad shake of his head, he takes a long pull from his bottle of beer.

Kurt is just about to form some sort of sure-to-be-succinct argument against this supposed “natural order” when his phone rings and he forgets what he was going to say.

It's Santana on the phone, and she's crying. Kurt paces the length of the living room and back again, one hand rubbing harshly at his forehead. “Shit!” he says. “Shit! I've been drinking; I can't come get you. Okay, listen, this is what you're gonna do: Call a cab and come to Blaine's house. Do you know the address? Are you somewhere safe to wait for it? Okay. Call me back if you're feeling nervous waiting by yourself. And text me once you're on the way.”

Blaine sits back and watches his boyfriend in amazement. Even drunk he can fix anything. Blaine decides that he's kind of amazing. “Is Santana okay?” he asks when Kurt ends the call and drops his phone on the loveseat.

“No. She didn't say what happened, just that it was something at her family dinner. She's at that diner with the creepy kitten plates, so it shouldn't take long for her to get here.”

“Oh, God, they have the best pie at that place,” Cooper says and gets twin looks of annoyance from Kurt and Blaine. “What? I'm really hungry, okay?”

Santana pitches herself into Kurt's arms the moment the door opens. “Whoa, whoa,” he says, and she lifts her head a little to look him in the eye. She is crying and obviously has been for some time – the rims of her eyes are red and swollen and her mascara is streaked down her cheeks. Kurt helps her down the hallway and once they reach the bright lights of the kitchen he notices her mouth.

It is swollen even more than her eyes, one side puffed up and red, her lip split and coated in dried blood. On the same side her jaw is beginning to form a bruise, all the way up to the sharp line of her cheekbone. “Oh my God,” Kurt whispers. “Ice.” And he pulls her into the kitchen.

“She threw the family bible at me,” Santana informs him in a dead voice as he's rooting through the Andersons' freezer for an unopened bag of frozen vegetables. “I was too shocked to react and it hit me in the face.”

“Jesus,” Kurt replies and presses a bag of peas to her jaw with an empathetic hiss.

“Appropriate,” Santana says, and she begins to laugh. Her laughter is strange – off-kilter and slightly manic. “You should see that shit,” she continues once her laughter has died away. “It must weigh twenty pounds. Big hardcover with jewels imbedded in it. That's what split my lip. Pretty sure I also chipped a tooth.” She sticks her pointer finger in her mouth and feels her teeth for a moment before shrugging and taking the bag of peas from Kurt's hand.

“I'm so sorry,” he says in a quiet voice and runs his fingers through her tangled hair. She looks like some wild child – like she's been running through fields and howling at the moon. It's an odd thought and brings Kurt's mind back around to the fact that he is seventeen and drunk and in no way capable of handling this situation in any way, shape or form.

Blaine and Cooper wander in then, wanting to know what is going on and Santana looks on gratefully as Kurt tells them what he knows.

They all decide, collectively, that Santana deserves the rest of the wine.

Half an hour later she has joined the boys in their inebriation and is dancing around with the bag of peas strapped to her face by way of the elastic hairband that Kurt uses to hold back his hair when he washes his face.

“That's even cooler than my eyepatch,” Blaine says with a giggle. “Somebody pead on your face.”

“I sincerely hope that's not one of your dirty little sex games,” Santana says and he scrunches up his nose.

“That's truly disgusting. People should keep their bodily whatnot to themselves. Unless it's come. I am totally okay with that.”

Santana has to readjust her bag of peas she's laughing so hard. “Hey, Kurt!” she calls across the room. “Blainers wants you to give him a facial!” She gives Blaine a wink when Kurt gets excited and starts going on about pore minimizing properties and avocado and hot water for steaming. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Martha Stewart. All you're gonna need for this special project is your dick and his face. And a room, because me and Hot Brother don't want to see you get your freak on.”

And the look on Kurt's face is priceless. “I... what.... Blaine?” He looks to his boyfriend for some sort of explanation and Blaine takes him over to the loveseat and snuggles up in his lap.

They cuddle there while Santana and Cooper take turns throwing beer caps into one of Mrs. Anderson's vases, keeping score by scratching lines into the back of an empty pizza box. Santana grows bored when they run out of caps and are too lazy to go and empty the ones from the vase. “Oi, dandies!” she bellows at Kurt and Blaine, who have moved on from cuddling to kissing and whispering. “Don't get too graphic with your plans for later. I'm sleeping with you boys tonight.”

“There's a guest room,” Cooper tells her but she shrugs him off.

“You can sleep in the guest room,” Blaine says. “Really comfy bed.”

“Um, hello!” Santana says, waving a hand in the general vicinity of the now melted bag of peas strapped to her face. “I've been hit with a bible and subsequently traumatized here. You're supposed to be feeling sorry for me and comforting me. Not planning your next round of hide the bratwurst.”

“Bratwurst, huh?” Cooper asks.

“I can't speak for your brother, but Hummel is packing some serious heat.”

“Oh my God, Santana!” Kurt climbs out from under Blaine and glares at her.

“What? So you've got a big dick? Own that shit.”

“She's right, you know,” Cooper says sagely and twists open another bottle of beer. “It will never steer you wrong.”

“That doesn't even make any sense,” Kurt tries to argue, but Santana cuts him off.

“Just look at Blainers,” she says, and motions in his direction. “Look at how freakin' happy he is about it. He's grinning like he just won first prize in the dick lottery, even though he's probably gagged on that thing numerous times.”

“My gag reflex really isn't all that pronounced, actually,” Blaine says and Cooper nearly chokes on a mouthful of Heinekin.


“Oh, give it up, Prudence. You love it.”

Blaine waggles his eyebrows and grabs Kurt around the middle, pulling him back down onto the loveseat.

“You are not doing that shit right now, I hope,” Santana says, and steals a drink from Cooper's beer. Blaine is coiled around Kurt's body, the pair of them hanging half way off the loveseat. “Cause I don't want a front row seat at the Deep Throating Show.”

“That's my baby brother,” Cooper whines pitifully.

“Look at him. He's like an octopus.”

Cooper takes his beer back from Santana and downs the rest in one long swallow. “I once went to a strip club called Octopussy,” he tells her, grasping at anything to change the subject.

“Serious? That is the best strip club name ever. You should totally take me there with you.”

“Do you have a fake ID?” Cooper asks. “We can go this summer.”

“You are not taking any of my friends to some dive strip club, Cooper,” Blaine grumbles from across the room.

“What's it to you, Octopussy? Why don't you stick your tongue back in your boyfriend's mouth and let mom and dad talk.”

“Octopussy,” Cooper repeats with a snort. “Brilliant.”

An hour later the four of them are stretched out on the living room rug, the coffee table pushed to the side to make more room. They are passing around a bowl of popcorn that Kurt had been industrious enough to microwave, grumbling all the while about how unhealthy it was, and who doesn't own an air popper?

Santana has long since abandoned her soggy bag of peas and is pushing Kurt's hair band down under her chin and back up again, making her bangs stand up straight. The silkiness of the fabric feels calming against her battered skin. “I was gonna tell them at dinner,” she says quietly, shaking her head as Cooper tries to pass her the bowl of popcorn. “Before my grandmother...”

“Tell them what?” Blaine asks softly.

“I, um... I got into Columbia. I'm going to Columbia.”

“That's wonderful, Santana,” Blaine says with a grin and gives her a one-armed hug. “Congratulations.”

“New York, New York,” Kurt sing-songs and Cooper joins in with “It's a hell of a town.”

Santana laughs a little. “So, you guys are the only ones who know, besides Brittany.”

“I'm so excited that you'll be in New York with me!” Kurt says, and rests his head on Santana's shoulder. “That's amazing.”

“I figure you and I can shack up for the year.”

“It'll be with Finn and Rachel,” Kurt says.

“Gross. Still –” she says with a shrug. “We can always fuck with them when they're trying to be amorous.” She and Kurt make dramatic gagging noises and Blaine rolls his eyes. “Chuck shit at the walls and blast 'Tonight, I Celebrate My Love For You' at full volume.”

Kurt hums his approval. “That could work.”

“And next year when Britts and Blainers join us we can all move in together and name our sure-to-be-posh-ass pad 'Gaytopia' or something awesome.”

Blaine lets out a bark of a laugh. “Isn't Brittany graduating with you guys, though?”

“Nah,” Santana says sadly. “She's missing a few credits. Next year.”

“Oh. Well, I'll make sure to help her out with her classes next year, if I can,” Blaine says.

“Thanks, Octopussy. You're a peach.”


The next morning brings hangovers and a dire need for coffee. Although Cooper wants pie, the diner with the creepy cat plates is overruled by the others, having been the scene of Santana's breakdown the night before. And Kurt informs them all that if he is forced to smell greasy food for even a moment he's going to pull a Linda Blair all over them.

“The Lima Bean it is,” Blaine says then, cringing at the volume of his own voice.

Santana enters the coffee shop first, leaving the boys in the parking lot laughing and bickering over Cooper's horrible parking job. He tried to blame it on his hangover, prompting a whole range of 'Cooper is a bad driver' stories from Blaine, all of which Kurt finds simply hilarious. Santana is not in the mood to mock others – well, at least not anyone she actually likes – and coffee is far more essential at the moment, seeing as she still has a pretty awful case of cotton mouth and a throbbing headache.

So of course Gangledouche is present and accounted for and meets her practically at the door as she walks in. She gives him a halfhearted eyeroll and he grins at her. “Oh, Smarms the Clown, I should have known you'd be here. The sketchy white van with Free Candy hand-painted on the side usually gives you away but I'm a little distracted this morning.”

“Not that this isn't fun like always, but what the hell happened to your face?”

She had almost forgotten about it, more worried about her gag reflex and throbbing head than her aching jaw. Her hand reaches up on instinct, covering the spot where the bible had struck her. “Nothing that I'll be recounting for you,” she says haughtily.

Karofsky approaches then, looking concerned. It's weird seeing him with Sebastian, and especially dressed in a uniform she once associated with Kurt and Blaine. “Santana, are you okay?” he asks, eyes roving over her bruised face.

For a moment she thinks about telling the truth, but it only lasts a moment and then she pulls her shield back over her. “Of course. My sweet little gaybies spooned me to sleep and now everything is right with the entire fucking world.”

And as if called, Kurt and Blaine descend upon them, curling up on either side of her. Kurt pulls her hair over to cover the bruise as much as possible and kisses her lightly on the cheek. “I'll take you to Sephora,” he says quietly.

“You buyin'?”

A small smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “I might be convinced.”

They arrange themselves at a table and pull up a sixth chair for the still-missing Cooper, and Blaine goes to the counter to buy them all coffee.

“So how are you liking Preppywood?” Santana asks Karofsky. “Have they Stepfordized you yet?”

Karofsky laughs and shakes his head. “Everyone has been really nice, actually. It's good.”

Cooper comes towards them, shoving his cell into his pocket at the same moment Blaine arrives with coffee and muffins.

“Dave, Sebastian,” Kurt says as Blaine passes out the coffee. “This is Blaine's brother, Cooper Anderson.”

“Well, well,” Sebastian says with a leer. “Your family certainly has some stellar genes.”

“Of course you're Sebastian,” Cooper says. “There is a haze of sexual harassment hanging about you like smog.” He grabs his coffee from Blaine's hand and gives him an angry look, pointing at Sebastian. “Why the fuck are you having coffee with this guy?”

“Well, I suppose I deserve that,” Sebastian says quietly into his cup.

“Oh, you deserve a fuckton worse, jackass.”

“Coop, leave it, okay?” Blaine pleads.

“You're too fucking forgiving, B.” Cooper shakes his head and takes a drink from his cup, cursing when it burns his mouth. “I swear, if another fucking person hurts my brother... I'm going to stab them in the goddamn throat.”

“Cooper! You can't say things like that.”

“It's true,” Kurt muses. “You're far too pretty for prison.”

“Oh, so I'm pretty again?”

Kurt smirks, swishing around his mocha to try and cool it down. “To the casual onlooker unaware of your... affliction, yes.”

“It was one time! It's hardly an affliction.”

Blaine laughs and turns to Kurt. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a silent thank you for changing the subject. Instead of sitting back up, Blaine rests his head against Kurt's shoulder and closes his eyes. They should have stayed in bed. If Cooper and Santana were so in need of food and coffee they could have come alone.

He opens his eyes again when he hears a throat clearing from above – an angry, fake sound. There is a lady standing next to the table looking down on them, her face pinched with disapproval. “Do you mind?” she says through gritted teeth. “There are children here.”

Blaine goes to lift his head on instinct, but Cooper snaps at him to stay right where he is. “Yes, we do mind,” he says to the lady. “We mind that you are interrupting our morning coffee with your ridiculous bigotry. We also mind that you have been allowing said children to run around screaming since we got here, as we have raging hangovers. So please do us a all a favour and fuck off back to the stone ages from whence you obviously came.”

The lady huffs angrily and seems about to say something more, but one look at Cooper and she turns on her heel. “And another thing,” he calls. “A bit of parenting advice – you shouldn't be feeding coffee to children. It stunts their growth, and makes them, you know, cause chaos in public places.”

After they watch the lady pack up her hooligan children and head for the exit with one final glare at them from over her shoulder, Cooper turns to Kurt. “Come on,” he coaxes. “Say it.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Fine. You're attractive again, Meat Sweats.”

Cooper sighs dramatically and clutches his chest. “And the natural order is restored.”

“That doesn't mean he has a crush on you, you idiot,” Blaine says.

“Of course he has a crush on me!” Cooper argues. “I'm the older brother, the forbidden fruit. And look at my abs.” He pulls up his t-shirt and pokes at his rock-hard tummy. When he has finished studying himself, he turns to Karofsky. “What do you think, Big Guy?”

“I...um... I have absolutely no idea,” Karofsky says, flustered.

Sebastian laughs. “I think it's a solid theory. Especially if the brother looks like you.” Cooper shoots him a glare and Sebastian's smirk droops. “And I will stop speaking to you directly.”

“That's probably for the best. If, you know, you're the least bit fond of your testicles.”

Blaine looks panicked for a moment, and Kurt squeezes his hand. “Perhaps you're right, Cooper,” he says. “If you're working under the assumption that Blaine and I are 12 year old girl BFFs. Which is the point I was going to make last night before Santana called and I got distracted.”

Santana perks up when she hears her name. “Hey, don't use me as an excuse to justify your inappropriate crush on Meat Sweats over there.”

“What are you...?” Kurt starts. He shakes his head. “Did you even listen to a word I just said?”

“Not really. You were speaking in a frequency that only dogs can hear. Did you notice how most everyone just nods and smiles whenever you get super pissed or excited? It's because they can't hear you. Well, besides the Queen of the Munchkins.” Santana sips her coffee. “I meant Rachel, Blainers,” she says as an afterthought. “Not you.”

“Screw taking you to Sephora,” Kurt says. “We're just going to leave you here, Satan.”

“Oh, you are not,” she answers in a fond voice and Kurt glares at her. “Do you know why? Because you love me. You admitted it, and I take advantage of that shit. Next year we're going to shack up together and you're gonna spoon me to sleep every night. We are gonna rule the hell outta that city.”

Kurt considers her for a moment, his face slowly softening. “Yes, well, your idea about blasting 'Tonight I Celebrate My Love For You' at Finn and Rachel was near ingenious.”

Santana gives Kurt a proud smile before shimmying about in her chair. And as if there is some sort of magical, silent cue, they start singing at exactly the same moment.

Tonight, I celebrate my loovve for yooou...

Kurt only makes it past the first line, but Santana keeps going, eyes closed tightly and grooving out in her chair. “Oh my God,” Kurt mutters. “You know all the lyrics.”

Cooper joins in loudly when she reaches Peabo Bryson's part. “Tonight, no one's gonna find us. We'll leave the world behind us, when I make love to yooou...

“And so does he.” Kurt looks increasingly horrified as they continue their duet and Blaine bursts out laughing.

“We used to play a game when we were kids, see who could find the cheesiest song. Cooper almost always won. I'd pull out The Copacabana and –”

“BAM! The Pina Colada Song,” Cooper says, leaving Santana to finish alone. “Nothing can ever beat The Pina Colada Song.”

“It's true,” Blaine agrees with a nod. “We had to remove it from play for being unbeatable. But you know,” he says after a moment's thought. “I still think that maybe The Copacabana should have beaten it. Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl...” he begins to sing.

Kurt places a hand on his arm and shakes his head. “Oh, honey, no,” he says.

“No way,” Cooper cuts in. “The Pina Colada Song always wins. That is the worst song ever written. They meet up and they're like – HAHA! We were going to cheat on each other. Oops! I didn't know you were something of an alcoholic who likes getting sand in unmentionable places! Oh my God, I didn't know that about you either! Let's fuck! Real healthy relationship.”

Kurt and Santana share a glance, both sets of eyebrows shooting towards their hair. “You seem a little bitter about that, Meat Sweats,” Santana says.

“He really does,” Kurt agrees.

Cooper furrows his brow and gives a quick shake of his head. “It was... You know what? Shut up!” he turns to his amused looking brother and places a hand on his shoulder. “Look, B, I'm not sure it's such a good idea, you moving in with these two. Maybe you should live with me instead. I'll worry about them corrupting you.”

Kurt snorts and Blaine waggles his eyebrows at him.

“Uh uh,” Santana says and wags a finger in Cooper's direction. “There is no way you're shutting down Gaytopia before it's even open for business.”

“Jesus,” Cooper says. “You make it sound like you'll be selling your bodies.”

“Well, if your brother's bowtie and hair gel obsessions make us short on rent we might be forced.”

“How about if you're short on rent you give me a call instead?”

“Ooh, Hot Brother is loaded, huh? I'd ask you to be my sugar daddy if I liked dick.” She grabs Kurt by the sweater and pushes him towards Cooper. “Here, take Kurt instead.”

“Hey!” Blaine exclaims. He pries Santana's fingers from Kurt's sweater and flattens out the fabric.

“Oh, so I'm Hot Brother again, am I? No more Meat Sweats. I see how it is.”

“Nah,” Kurt says. “You're still Meat Sweats.”

“Shut it, Prancerella,” Cooper says with a laugh.

“HEY!” Blaine exclaims again.

“Calm yo tits, Octopussy. It's a term of endearment,” Santana informs him.

“Of course it is,” Blaine says sarcastically. “I think I'll start calling you Hell Harpy. But don't be offended, it's a term of endearment.”

“Oh my God, stop the fuckin' presses. Blainers said something mean!” Instead of offended, Santana looks oddly proud.

“The end of the world may very well be upon us,” Cooper adds with mock gravity.

“Oh, fuck you, Meat Sweats,” Blaine tells him.

From amidst the laughter, Kurt perks up, like he's about to shout eureka! “I know what beats The Pina Colada Song,” he says.

“Oh, you do not,” Cooper scoffs. “Unless you're going to say nothing.”

Disco Duck.”

“Oh my God,” Blaine stage whispers.

There is a beat of silence before Cooper shakes his head and hits the table with the palm of his hand. “No way. It doesn't count unless you sing it.”

Kurt looks dubious. “Here?”

“Yep,” Cooper says, gleeful. “Come on, Hummel, put your mouth where your... Wait, that's not how that expression goes.”

Santana snorts and nearly chokes on her coffee.

“Don't even, Hell Harpy,” Cooper tells her with a warning look. “That's my baby brother.”

“Yeah, the same baby brother who was telling us all about his lack of gag reflex last night.”

“I have blocked that entire conversation from my memory,” Cooper says archly. “Now, come on, Prancerella, sing the song. I want to hear your best Donald Duck.”

“Blaine had it right,” Kurt says. “Fuck you, Meat Sweats.”

Blaine starts laughing and Cooper looks between him and Kurt, pretending to be stricken. “Hey! Why is everyone ganging up on me all of a sudden?”

“Maybe we'll stop if you show us your abs again. You know, lull us into submission or whatever.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whines and knocks his head against the table. “Don't encourage him.”

Cooper grins and makes a phone with his fingers. “Call me,” he mouths at Kurt. “You make amazing waffles.”

“You are all nuts,” Karofsky informs them, but he's wearing a huge smile.

“Certifiable,” Sebastian agrees.

Jazz Dalekwater_nix on March 19th, 2012 04:53 pm (UTC)
\0/ Thank you!