sam.

Sam nodded eagerly, his excitement with his idea reaching new heights as he watched the way Blaine’s cheeks blushed, “Yeah, I do. I though we could like…you know…do all the school dance…stuff. Like I could pick you up and your Mom could take embarrassing pictures of us and we could like…be late to the dance because we got caught up making out in my car.” He chuckled, his own blush gracing his cheeks before he continued rambling, “And then we could..uhm…go to the dance and…hold hands and dance…and then after we could…you know…the thing that couples do…after a dance…” He wiggled his brows and laughed, though he hoped Blaine didn’t think he’d been joking about that part. Because he totally hadn’t been joking at all, it was just…awkward to say out loud, at school, where anyone could hear it. “So? Will you be my date to the dance, B?” He asked once more, with more clarity so that Blaine wouldn’t have to ask him again, and hopefully instead, give an answer of affirmation. “I promise it’ll be fun.” He added and beamed, biting his lip nervously as he waiting for Blaine to deliberate and decide, funny how the time between a question and answer seemed to last forever – at least in this particular instance.

Sam’s pitch was perfect the first time when Blaine could barely believe what he heard.  The second time, though?  The Warbler felt like he might soar into the clouds from the amount of happiness that rushed in after the thought that Sam might only be doing this as friends because he felt pity on him for not finding a date yet.  Not that he hadn’t been asked.  He had.  Not by as many people as some might think.  Dalton wasn’t a school full of gay kids, contradictory to what other schools might think. But the few who did invite him?  Blaine couldn’t picture going with them.  Or, perhaps, going at all.  The ghosts of the past were far too close to step outside of merely going there to perform and then politely excusing himself and going back to the dorms.  If he was going to walk down that road again? He wanted someone worth doing it for.  Who understood that he might hold their hand a little too tight.  Who would see him getting uncomfortable, if he did, and would pull him away when his politeness slipped into a facade to hide his nerves and it stopped being fun.  Oh, he had plenty of thoughts about what that night could be and wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss that–although Central was half a year away now–it might be too much once he stepped foot into the room.  

Going with a date would be a huge leap.  One he didn’t want to take with just anyone.. He wanted it to be Sam.  And here Sam was, hinging on his reply and Blaine was suddenly laughing at himself for asking him to repeat it and the awkwardness he just went through.  This was Sam.  And he’d follow Sam anywhere.  No matter where the other went.  “I’d love to, Sam.  I want to do all of that with you.  The pictures, the dinner,” without pause his hands reached across the table and clasped over top of both of Sam’s.  Blaine leaned his weight against his elbows and looked him in the eye.  “I’ll be your date..  Boutonniere and everything.  Thank you for asking me.”