tate.

“And, uh —”  Tate’s train of thought seemed to derail when the weight of Blaine’s head rested against him.  One quick glance to the side at the simple gesture was enough to make him have to try and subdue the smile on his face ; He did like Blaine.  And it’d been so long since anyone had touched him in any sort of way.  “Uh — Where was I?  Oh yeah.  Buffalo Bill, is based of Ed Gein cause like, there’s been suspicions that Ed was making a woman-suit but really never any hard evidence.”  A few seconds later with his eyes trained on their movie, the blond’s cheek was pressed against the top of that curly mess.  He didn’t really care what Blaine said, he sort of digged it without all that gel.

Being with Tate was comfortable.  Like they’d always known each other.  The boy was the one constant that wasn’t complicated or overwhelming.  Tate was always there.  Ready to hang out, listen, or simply be in awe over his cellphone and play games on it for hours while Blaine played the piano or music and stretched out on his floor staring at the ceiling as they talked about everything and nothing.  Tonight, they’d chosen a movie marathon starting with Silence of the Lambs.  An entire evening spent with Anthony Hopkins in movies he’s always been curious about but never seen or knew much of and good company?  Blaine couldn’t complain.  It felt easy to let his head fall to rest on Tate’s shoulder as he drew a heavy duvet up over their laps. Blaine’s nose crinkled and his gaze flicked from the screen to Tate.  “Seriously?  I never heard that.  Only that he made lampshades out of people.  What do you think?”