Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/760435.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee_RPF
  Relationship:
      Chris_Colfer/Darren_Criss
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-14 Words: 4089
****** Sophomore ******
by dizzy
Summary
     Because Katie had an anon and I succumb to peer pressure easily.
     (prompt: http://heavenorspace.tumblr.com/post/47884525186/anonymous-
     asked-you-hi-random-but-have-you)
     Perpetual thanks to my inspiration in porn, Mav. Somehow I managed
     this one alone but it was your spirit guiding me.
Darren Criss doesn't do shameful little secrets.
He stands up in front of his fifth period english class and announced the topic
of his latest essay.
"I'm a teenage boy, and I love Glee." He waits patiently until the laughter
dies down, the grin on his own face undimmed. When his teacher finally nods for
him to go on, he starts to read. "First of all, have you seen Chris Colfer..."
*
His parents might not understand his obsession, but they indulge it.
He buys every magazine he can find with Chris Colfer's face on it and he jerks
off to most of them. Sometimes he buys multiple copies because he can't resist
the urge to blow all over the page, as close as he'll ever get to actually
coming on that perfect face. It's the only time he feels any true hint of
guilt; when he closes the sticky ruined book together and drops it into the
trash.
If his parents notice that he starts to take his own trash out more often
without being prompted, and suddenly he's doing his own laundry regularly with
no hassle, then they politely mention neither. If they notice the bottle of
lube he forgets to put away sometimes in his rush to leave in the morning, they
maintain the facade of ignorance.
If they notice that it's Kurt's scenes Darren backs up to watch a second,
third, fourth time and not the scenes with any of the cheerleaders then they
don't choose not to comment out of politeness, but they just genuinely don't
care.
*
For his sixteenth birthday they tell him that over spring break they're taking
a trip to Los Angeles.
They had him the tickets for the Glee set tour and Darren has to clamp his
thighs together to hide the impromptu boner he gets at the very thought of
being in the same room as Chris Colfer.
The only problem is that he has over a month to build it up in his head and by
the time March rolls around he feels like he's going to be sick when he thinks
of what he'll say, what he'll do, what Chris Colfer might think of him...
He refuses when his mother wants him to get a haircut that week and defiantly
picks out his own clothes the day of: a Harry Potter t-shirt (Chris loves Harry
Potter), jeans that already cling and won't survive his next growth spurt, a
pair of pink sunglasses (Chris has turquoise ones; Darren wanted those but the
store hadn't carried that color), and his favorite pair of socks with little
microphones on them in different colors.
"Fuck yeah," he thinks, looking into the mirror. He sees a gawky boy with too-
large feet and toothpick arms and a mop of hair and tilts his head up,
grinning. "I look fucking good."
*
They say they can never guarantee ahead of time that any actors will be
available to stop and say hi to the tour group, but Darren is pretty sure his
mother gave them the full scoop on this being his sixteenth birthday present
because the tour guide says she thinks a few of the Glee cast will probably be
around and she looks right at Darren and winks.
Darren's only there with his brother. His parents had seemed more relieved than
anything when he said he'd rather go alone, but they hadn't budged on the Chuck
issue.
By this point Darren doesn't even care.
His stomach does somersaults and he doesn't remember a word anyone says about
anything until a beam of light shines down from heaven and the most gorgeous
person Darren has never laid eyes on steps through the door.
He literally takes a step back, because fuck.
That's Chris Colfer.
*
Chris stops to say hi to a few of the people in front, even pausing to take a
picture with a little girl no more than three years old whose mother is a fan.
Darren mentally adds that to the little file folder in his brain of future life
plans: have Chris Colfer's babies. By the time he's in college, surely science
will have caught up to that lofty goal - and if not, well, Darren can just
change his major to goddamn science and figure it out himself.
He's so busy processing the thought that he almost misses it when Chris
straightens up and says, "So I hear I have a fan."
Darren's brother - his evil, wonderful, awful, amazing brother - grabs Darren's
hand and yanks it up. "Right here," Chuck calls out. "The one that just
swallowed his tongue."
That's not all Darren would like to swallow.
"Hi," he says, finding his voice somehow. He yanks his hand away from Chuck and
stumbles forward with a goofy grin on his face. "I'm your biggest fan."
Chris looks surprised, looks around like he thinks it might be a joke, and then
hesitantly smiles back. "You are not what I was expecting."
A remark like that could go either way, but it delights Darren.
"So I've got this bone to pick with you," Darren says, not wanting to mince
words. "You're perpetuating a totally dumb stereotype."
Chris is even more taken aback. "What?"
"That whole thing you do in interviews where you say that all your fans are
teenage girls." Darren does a little flaily arm motion that ends with him
pointing both fingers back at himself. "Number one fan. No titties in sight."
Chris looks like he wants to either laugh or run away. "What?" He says again.
Chuck is still standing aside listening, though he has that expression of
wanting to gag his little brother. He's a big advocate of letting Darren dig
his own holes, though.
"No titties," Darren repeats. He puts a hand on his hip. "I'm a boy. And I'm
totally your biggest fan."
"Well." Chris starts, and then stops. "Well, okay. I stand corrected."
"Good, now, okay, I have like - shit, I've got presents for you. And just,
don't drop them in the trash on your way out, okay, because- hah." Darren
fishes through his messenger bag and pulls out a crumpled up paper bag. "It's a
cd, with some songs I wrote, and some I just think you'll dig. And um - a
letter with some stuff I want to say in it. Oh, and I drawing I did of you as a
Ninja Turtle one day while I was in algebra. It's wicked."
Chris looks down at the bag in his hand and back up at Darren. Darren flounders
a little then, like he needs to say more, like maybe Chris is going to walk
away if he doesn't.
But the decision is made for them when the studio tour starts to move on. "I
need to get back to set, but it was great meeting you," Chris says. He reaches
out and pats Darren on the shoulder.
Well, that's just not gonna fucking do.
"Hold on," Darren says, and then he blurts out: "I want a hug."
"Oh, um. Okay." Chris looks around and then hands the stuff Darren gave him to
Chuck. He has about two seconds after that before Darren is launching himself
forward, arms tight around Chris's neck.
Darren's mind is a jumble of he smells perfect and can I hump him just a little
and oh shit I thought about humping now I'm hard and do I have to let him go
and why do I have to let him go.
He knows he holds on for way too long and he knows it's awkward but for some
reason Chris doesn't back away, and when Chris does finally step back there's a
flush on his cheeks and he's looking at Darren a little bit differently.
"It was nice meeting you, Darren," Chris says, smiling. He takes his gifts back
from Chuck and walks away.
Once he's out of earshot, Darren groans. "He could totally feel my boner,
couldn't he."
"I'd give you a sympathetic pat on the back but I don't want to overexcite
you," Chuck teases as they walk quickly to catch up with the glaring tour
guide.
*
Things Darren Criss does not expect to happen:
Getting a record deal before he turns 18.
Winning the lottery.
To own a 1964 Cherry Gibson SG, especially without previously mentioned lottery
win.
For Chris Colfer to call him.
And then one of them does, and he doesn't really mind the hit to his accuracy,
because Chris fucking Colfer called him.
*
He calls while Darren is in a show with his parents.
Darren's actually glad. He can play this voicemail over nonstop now.
"I listened to your mix tape," Chris says. "And I just wanted to thank you.
You're actually really good - I liked the tracks of yours on there as much as I
did some of the other ones, though I'm definitely going to download some stuff
by that band you mentioned so much in the liner notes. Those were cute, by the
way. I'm calling from my publicity agent's phone - security stuff, sorry - but
I'm going to leave you her phone number and if you're free for coffee or dinner
while you're in town, let me know. After all, I need to encourage my male
fanbase of one."
Darren drops down onto the bed with his arms flung over his head and an open-
mouthed smile on his face. He stays that way for twenty minutes, his parents
asking once or twice if he's all right and then mostly ignoring him.
*
Chris's publicity agent is sweet, and falls to Darren's enthusiastic charm in
about two seconds flat. She tells him a few general rules of etiquette and asks
a few questions that sound more like an interview than a conversation, but
Darren doesn't care. He answers everything, and at length. Then she speaks to
his parents to keep them informed and get permission, takes down Darren's hotel
information and says that they'll send a car over.
*
Dinner with Chris is nothing like Darren expected at all.
The first thing is: they talk.
They talk, and talk, and it feels like the conversation just whips and whirls
and glides around them. The potential for awkward pausing is there but Darren
has never met a silence he can't fill and Chris - Chris wants to know about
him.
Chris wants to know so much about him, and the conversation comes around to
dating and Chris gets this look on his face, like he's wary and intrigued and
just can't help himself. "No girlfriend? Or boyfriend?"
Darren just shakes his head. "Nope. I mean, come on, like I've got time for
that shit between having an existential crisis over-"
He gestures up and down at Chris.
Chris grins a little, reaching up to smooth back his already perfectly tousled
and upswept hair. "You know, I'd accuse you of exaggerating, but I did hear the
songs."
"How do you even know those are about you?" Darren lifts an eyebrow.
Chris pokes out his lip in a pout. "Weren't they?"
Oh.
Well.
That's fucking hot.
Darren swallows down whatever blatant sexual offer is about to come flying out
of his mouth to say, "Yeah, they were."
*
Dinner, dessert, done - home?
Maybe not.
"So, I'm supposed to call the driver to come back and then safely deliver you
to your hotel," Chris says. "But it's only half past seven. Do you want to hang
out a little more?"
Darren's face lights up. "Let's go to a club!"
"You're underage," Chris says, gently.
"You are not trying to tell me you never went to a club when you were under
21," Darren says, pointing a finger at him. "I saw the pictures. The internet
is everywhere."
"Stalker," Chris accuses, but he's laughing.
*
"I want to meet Brian," Darren says, wide-eyed and hopeful. They have coffee
and they're meandering back down the sidewalk to where Chris has his own car
parked.
Chris immediately gets this flash of a panicky expression before he bites his
lip. "Darren, I really don't think it's a good idea for me to take a sixteen
year old boy back to my house."
The boy part stings a little but he's undeterred. "Then I won't go in. You can
bring him outside. I just want to meet the star of your instagram, okay?"
He uses his best puppy-eyed expression, even doing a little half-spin on his
feet and whining.
"Oh my god, stop," Chris says, trying not to laugh. "Stop, okay, let's go."
*
"It's smaller than I expected," Darren says, squinting at the house they pull
up to.
Chris shrugs. "It's just me and the cat."
"Yeah? Really?" He asks. "So... the lady told me not to be too inquisitive, but
can I ask just like, one blatantly invasive question? And you can tell me to
shut the fuck up if you want to-"
"Go ahead." Chris kills the car engine and opens his door.
Darren waits until they're inside to ask. "Were you really dating that dude?"
Chris doesn't answer at first. "Which one?"
Darren rolls his eyes. "You know which one. That one from all the pictures last
year. The douchebag."
"He wasn't-" Chris starts to say, automatically, then looks at Darren and just
shrugs. "He served his purpose."
"But you're not with him anymore?" He looks around Chris's living room. It's
very... "Blue. You must really like blue. Do I get a tour?"
"No," Chris says, and he squats down to call out for Brian. "C'mere, fat cat."
"I've already seen your bedroom," Darren adds, hoping that'll make a
difference.
Chris's head jerks up. "What?"
"I mean - you did this livestream from there once. You had bedhead. It was
really hot." He thinks compliments probably won't hurt his case.
Of course, Chris probably doesn't want to show him around because he thinks the
implications of a sixteen year old guy in just his house are bad. Also because
he probably realizes Darren just wants to fuel his own perverted idealistic
fantasies. But how killer would it be to picture the extra bed Chris gets off
in.
Shit.
Chris gets off in that bed. And maybe in this house - in other places. Maybe
he's had sex against the wall. On the couch. The coffee table-
"Darren?" Chris asks, caught somewhere between embarrassed and amused.
Darren can feel the heat on his skin. He clears his throat. "Oh, hey, the cat!"
*
Chris makes Darren call to check in with his parents.
They're out to dinner and don't answer, so he leaves a voicemail.
"Your parents trust you this much?" Chris asks, sounding peculiar.
Darren shrugs. He's made himself at home on Chris's couch, Brian purring
contentedly on his lap. "Why wouldn't they?"
And Chris, somehow, just lets it go at that. He grabs the remove and settles
down, a respectable foot of space between them that Darren eyes like it's the
great divide and his new quest in life is to cross it.
"So why are you a fan of mine?" Chris asks.
It's not a question he needs to think about to answer. The letter he'd written
Chris had a hint of it but he'd refrained from gushing. He'd been more
interested in trying to convey things to Chris about himself that would make
him stand out to Chris. "Because you've got a story, and you're using it to do
good for yourself and for kids in positions like you were in. And you're this
crazy good actor and singer and writer and it's like someone told you that you
could do anything you wanted in life and you believed it, and I want to be that
kind of person."
Chris is smiling at him and Darren's insides want to knot themselves up into a
pretty little bow at how close he feels in this moment.
"And you're also hot," he adds.
Chris laughs and covers his face with his hands. "You can stop saying that."
"Why?" Darren asks. "It's true."
He does scoot a little closer then. There are alarm bells resounding in the
tension between them but Darren sees Chris looking at his mouth. "When I was
sixteen, I'd never been kissed," Chris says. "Have you?"
"Yeah," Darren says, but he sees where Chris still has his eyes fixed and he
licks his lips. "But if it gets you going, I can pretend you'd be the first."
"I'm not going to kiss you," Chris instantly says.
"I think you are," Darren says back.
And then the distance is gone and Brian is mewling a complaint as he digs his
back paws into Darren's thigh as a springboard to exist the scene from. Darren
doesn't mind, he barely even notices it, because Chris goddamn Colfer is
licking between his lips like it's tonsillectomy time in makeoutsville and
Darren is all on board for it.
*
They make out for ten minutes, and it's enough to have Darren melted into a
puddle of happy horny teenage boy. Chris doesn't ask if he's a virgin. Chris
doesn't ask much at all, really, besides the occasional is this okay and do we
need to stop.
(The answer is always yes, and no, respectively.)
Chris seems to know what he wants, though. He looks at Darren and Darren just
knows there's a whole lot going on behind the scenes, behind those eyes, but
Chris seems to be carefully metering out what he actually says to Darren.
He isn't quite so careful with his actions, though. He palms his hand over
Darren's thigh and then to his dick, goes after it with purpose. "Last night I
jerked off listening to that song," he says, and he sounds less tortured over
it than Darren might have expected.
The hand between Darren's legs is cupping Darren's cock. Chris uses rolling
pressure of his palm to drive Darren into a panting, sweating craze. Does he
know that Darren could probably come from this in two minutes flat? Well, yeah.
Chris was a teenage himself not that long ago, so probably. He thinks of baby
faced Kurt from season one with the chubby cheeks and the pert little nose and
then he looks at the man beside him, sharp jaw and solid muscle and a look on
his face like he's just going to eat Darren alive and then go back for seconds.
"Oh, god," Darren keens. He's past the point of stringing together words that
both make sense and aren't directly related to orgasm.
"You're so gorgeous." Chris bites a kiss just shy of hard enough to leave a
mark at the nape of Darren's neck. "And I wanted you. I've never done this
before, with a fan."
"Why the fuck not?" Darren gasps, laughing and trying to buck his hips up and
hump into the bleeding warmth of the hand on him through his jeans. He can't
imagine Chris doesn't have people flinging themselves onto his dick day and
night. What kind of idiots exist in this town? "Never mind, I don't care, just
please-"
The hand slips away. Darren frantically fucks the air out of desperation for
more touch.
"I'm going to suck you," Chris says, kneeling calmly between Darren's legs.
"Unless you tell me not to."
"Suck me please suck my cock please," Darren babbles. "Please?"
Chris laughs as he undoes Darren's pants and tugs them down. "You're very
polite but you can stop saying please. I already told you I was going to."
"I know, but-"
Then there's a warm wet tongue swiping over the slick mess of precome smeared
across the fat head of his cock. Darren has to shove the meaty part of his palm
between his teeth to keep from making noise.
Chris reaches up with one hand and grabs his wrist. "I want you to make noise
for me."
"Oh," Darren gasps. "Okay."
And then he does - he makes noise, he makes a lot of noise as Chris teases him
to the brink and then wrenches his orgasm away with a clamped down grip on the
base of his cock.
"You're so eager," Chris mutters when he comes up for air. "You want it, don't
you, sweetheart?"
Darren nods and fists a hand in his own hair, because one of his favorite
things to do is imagine Chris is pulling it while he jerks off.
Oh, that has him close again, but Chris can tell and his touch is gone in a
heartbeat.
He does it two or three times, until Darren has tears in his eyes with the
wanting and his balls are tight little lumps against his body that Chris
occasionally drops his mouth down to suck on.
How it feels is almost eclipsed by how Chris looks, though. His lips and
stretched tight and spit-slick, hair a mess from Darren's grasping and cheeks
flushed high, redness that creeps down his neck and disappears into the white
scoop of his undershirt. He's fully dressed and still more potent than the
filthiest of porn Darren has watched.
"Please," Darren says, because he feels like he's about to have a full on
Looney Tunes moment where his head explodes except this time it'll just
splatter jizz everywhere instead of shrill steam escaping.
But this time Chris loosens his grip on Darren's cock and strokes his fingers
up and down in a touch that maybe needs to be just a little tighter but it
doesn't even matter because Darren is coming anyway and Chris - Chris, that
dirty motherfucker, he's swallowing down Darren's come with greedy little
suckles and half-shut eyes.
Then he rocks back on his heels and shoves his hand to the front of his own
pants and tips back his head, adams apple stark and jutting against his skin as
he fucks forward into his own grasp and comes with a shutter and a bitten-off
cry.
Darren watches his cock and his cock gives another series of spasming jerks,
come oozing out of the rigid shaft and trickling down to paint the still-
pulsing veins. Impressive, since he'd been pretty sure there wasn't a single
drop left in his sucked-dry balls.
Chris stands up and walks away, leaving Darren with his pants around his ankles
and his sweaty ass still planted on Chris's couch. He stays just like that
until Chris comes back wearing different pants. He disappears again into what
Darren assumes is the kitchen, calling out, "Bathroom - third door on the
left."
Darren waddles with a softening, sticky cock and his pants held up by his hands
down the hallway. He cleans up and wipes off and then drops the wash cloth into
the hamper, grinning as he imagines Chris having to pick it back up again
later.
Pants done back up but sex-stupid smile still on his face, he goes to find
Chris again. The doors beckon him, though, and he can't resist turning the knob
and stepping inside.
It's Chris's bedroom. His breath catches at the painful intimacy of this, being
able to see it. His mouth goes dry and for the first time it really dawns on
him that this is a man, a person, and he just did a thing with his person, and
he hadn't really thought this far at all.
He sees a pile of laundry on the floor. He's not sure if it's clean or dirty
until he brings a shirt to his face and breathes in. It smells tangy like sweat
and deodorant and he balls it up, hurrying back into the living room to shove
it into his bag before he finds Chris making them a snack in the kitchen.
*
They don't end up calling the driver at all.
Instead, Chris takes Darren back himself.
"You've got my phone number still, right?" Darren asks. It's the first time
he's felt really nervous, and even if this is just a fantastic once in a
lifetime even he'll be okay, he'll live with the best first blowjob story ever,
but he still hopes it might be more.
"Yeah." Chris sounds cautious but he doesn't outright shoot Darren down, and
when they pull up to the hotel he leans over and cups Darrens cheek, kissing
him softly. He pulls back, strokes a finger through Darren's hair and tugs at a
springy curl, and then smiles with something like tenderness in his eyes. "I
wish I met more guys like you."
"Well, I hope you don't," Darren says, and steals another kiss with less
technique but more intent. "Call me."
"We'll see," Chris says, and lets Darren out.
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