( mssg » blaine | sent ) Blaine, don’t do this. Its not like I broke up with you, its me saying we need space, that is all it is. I don’t even know if i’ll last the whole night.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’m sorry for whatever it is that I’m doing. I know it isn’t like that. I’m okay with this. It’s just a night.
Sebastian was freaking himself out with this kiss. Normally, a kiss was nothing to him. It was a precursor to get some decent sex so that he’d be on his way. With Blaine, he actually put something into this. His eyes were closed and unready to open so long as his lips were in contact with Blaine’s. His own heart skipped a bit faster. A feeling he hadn’t felt. The butterflies in his stomach were out of control but he loved ever second of it. Goddamnit, Blaine Warbler.
His lips sensually and ever so meticulously moved with the latter male’s. It was an insanely good kiss. Was this what it meant to have fireworks? The one hand that remained on Blaine’s cheek dropped to his shoulder. He didn’t want to, but he needed to. Pulling away from the kiss he caught his breath. Not knowing what to say, a laugh left him as he looked down only to glance back up and look Blaine in the eye.
The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sebastian, for a moment, lost himself in those incredible hazel eyes. Play it off cool. But FUCK, his lips actually were soft.
“You uh, kiss well. Pretty nice.”
Blaine felt his heart hiccup into his throat when Sebastian didn’t pull away after a simple peck. He should know better considering who was slotted between his calves with their lips pressed to his. There was nothing about what they were doing that could be labelled, simple. Or–even okay. This wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay to finally let his eyes slip closed. It wasn’t okay to let go of the couch before he tore holes in it and for his fingers that’d had their color bled out at the knuckles from the grip to ache and throb as they wrapped around each one of Sebastian’s wrists. It wasn’t okay to keep his hands where they were by holding them tight.
–And it wasn’t okay to feel his head fall back because it was too heavy and he was reeling when their lips finally parted. Or to be holding onto Sebastian’s skin because he needed something–anything–to pull him back down to the ground. Nothing was okay with what he was doing and—he was doing it. So softly, so delicately and so–so with a want for it to not end when that’s exactly what it had to do.
The weight of Sebastian’s stare pressed the last pull of gravity onto his senses and when their eyes met–Blaine’s were swallowed up by his pupils and dazed. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Except for the way his calves bulged and tightened against Sebastian’s sides, toes dug into the couch and his chest sucked in air. “I–Yeah. You do too. Sebastian. I..” –Talk, Blaine. Talk. Tell him you have to go. Tell him you can’t. That you’re sorry.– But nothing came out.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) I do want you too. I want to be at home with you, and I want to stay with you and be with you all the time.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) We need this Blaine. We need to be separate for a day, take a fresh breath of air, and then we’re going to meet at home, maybe at a hotel, we could reenact our hotel meeting a year ago.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) Then why do you ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Sorry. I didn’t mean to send that. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Okay. Sounds great. I’m sure Sam will be over the moon to get some serious game time in. I should go. I love you. Text me when you’re ready.
Emmett laughed at the other seemed quite jittery. “Oh? So that’s it.” He said looking up from his task to smile at the younger male. “Ah, it’s quite alright, sweety. I just don’t want to accidentally prick you with a pin or any thing.” He told him. “You remind of myself after one too many cosmos.” He giggled as he put in one last stitch and checked his work. “There now is that, better?” He as he admired his own work. Straightening his shirt.
Emmett’s giggle was contagious and Blaine couldn’t stop himself from joining in. Head down–he watched as Emmett did his work and couldn’t help from feeling a little pang of nostalgia in his gut at the sight. A weight threatened to crush his chest if he focused on it too long, so the thoughtful look that pressed his lips together and quieted him down was quickly palmed off his face. Back to all grins and the faint ebbing of a chuckle he drew up from nowhere–before he gasped. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I totally ignored your question. See? My mind is all over the place and I’m pretty sure that every thought that goes through it is in song from all the hours we’ve been putting in here,” Blaine was blushing furiously as he tried not to fidget. “Any sort of pin prick that I earn from not being able to stand still is well deserved and I promise not to hold it against you.” Standing straight again as Emmett finished up–Blaine looked at one ankle and the other. “I think it’s perfect. And I’m Blaine, by the way.”
( mssg » blaine | sent ) I love you more than anything, you know that, right? I love being with you, and I love being able to wake up to you. I love being able to see you. But as much as I love everything, I love my space. I think maybe what we should do is stay at separate places for a day or two, maybe not see each other, and then we can come back together. I’m sure when we come back together, it will be so much better.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) Wait. I love you too. I love doing all of that with you. That’s all I’ve been waiting for is to be with you. But you don’t want me to come home? ( mssg » kurt | sent ) I mean ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Sure. A couple of days may be what we need. I can call Mercedes and Sam. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll go get a few things to take over there before you’re home.
“It’s not like I happen to love musical theatre, Blaine. I may be a cold hearted douche, but I’m a cold hearted douche that loves the stage. I seem to be impressing you more and more as the night progresses though.” His eyes weren’t removed from his work. Another pot was set up as he began to cook the sauce just in time to catch the filet mignon. The kitchen had a delicious scent of well cooked meat and a decadent sauce.
Sebastian shook his head and threw his hands up playfully, “Well excuse me for assuming the worst of ignorance in you.” Sebastian plopped a veggie into his mouth while he waited. Clapping his hands off of any excess food he went to wash his hands. With the wine coming back just in time he popped the top of it and went over to the steaks. Pouring the tiniest bit into the pan, he made a quick pleased noise. “Oh, no. They wont even know it’s missing. That’s the cheap wine. The cellar downstairs is where the Smythe family fortune is. Plus, I don’t want you to have to blow your tuition money on red wine I can replace easily.” The “cheap wine” was by no means cheap. Sebastian just had no real respect for money as the son & teenager of two extremely wealthy parents.
“Wanna taste the sauce for me?” Scooping up a little bit into a ladle he blew on it ever so slightly and held it out for Blaine.
“I’m sorry I misjudged you. Don’t know why it just didn’t connect. You just seemed the type to roll your eyes at one too many sappy showtunes. And if it’s impressing me you’re trying for? You really don’t need to try all that hard. Really. You’re doing just fine.” He cleared his throat and smoothed the edge of his thumb across the label on the wine bottle one last time. Was that too much to say? Too inappropriate?
Sebastian didn’t make learning what was too much or not enough very easy. He was lforced to figure it out on his own. And, God, it was a challenge. “I’m excited to see you on an actual stage. Instead of only the Warblers Common Room.” The bottle was handed over and he held up a palm to make Sebastian pause. “I’m not saying that you weren’t great. You were.” His fingers curled towards his palm and he stuffed both loose fists into his pockets, shrugging once they were tucked away. “All I mean is–. If you’re half as amazing at Sectionals? Giving you song ideas is probably redundant and only going to make my life harder with the New Directions if we’re going to beat you. Which we will,” he teased with a grin. “Then I’ll buy you a bottle of wine as an I’m sorry. No cheap stuff either. Promise..”
“I’d love to. I thought you’d never ask. That smells way too good,” his right hand lifted up to curl around the bend of Sebastian’s elbow as he leaned in for a taste.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) Nope, too late, i’ve caught you. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) You’re more than welcome to try again [ 😉 ]
( mssg » dave | sent ) Can’t we pretend I didn’t?! Was it really that terrible? Okay. One more time. I might as well go all out. ( mssg » dave | sent ) No that wasn’t supposed to be a pun. See? This is why I rarely do this! I’m–I’m shutting up and taking back the last thirty seconds with..this. ( mssg » dave | sent ) [image uploaded] ( mssg » dave | sent )
( mssg » blaine | sent ) Nope, not kidding. We kinda over did it, and then sleeping on the bed after that was a really bad idea. Even my back agrees to it. Um…it’s kind of working? But it’s all kind of awkward, like it’s not really sitting right.
( mssg » dave | sent ) I’m sorry I passed out half on top of you! I was comfortable for the whole night and now you’re back is probably just as busted as the bed. You could have pushed me off! I swear I’m ( mssg » dave | sent ) I shouldn’t be laughing. Why am I laughing?! ( mssg » dave | sent ) Let’s just get a new bed. We could meet at the mall. Bring your truck? No Ikea junk this time. Apparently we’re too rowdy for Swedish craftsmanship.
Dave rubbed his head, wishing that he was back in bed instead of trying to figure out why Blaine was throwing damn pieces of cement at his house. He had been an asshole before, he didn’t think he deserved this, not after everything and all the apologies. Dave just stared at the male in front of him, blinking as he tried to process everything, especially Blaine’s attempt at apologizing. Giving a long sigh, he turned back to see the window, hole and all. “I’m not going to send you to prison. Though you’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” he groaned, looking back towards the other.
Dave stared at the fingers, trying to understand what Blaine was trying to possibly do. “Dude, I don’t know how much it’s going to cost. I’ll call the insurance people in the morning and get an estimate,” he said as he kept looking around. “Look, come inside,” he sighed, inching towards the other. He did look visibly drunk, at least he did in Dave’s opinion. Why Blaine was out like this, wandering around, and why he thought to throw cement at people’s houses was a good idea, he wasn’t actually sure. “I have to say, you’d be good on a football team, that’s for sure,” he said sarcastically.
A tiny sliver of relief splashed onto Blaine’s expression when Dave promised him he wouldn’t call the cops. The last thing he needed was to call Rachel and beg her to come bail him out. Because there was no way he’d phone his mother and tell her what he did. ‘Hello, Mom? I need you to come pick me up from prison’ was a conversation he would never ever live down. Sobriety in the form of terror managed to kill some of his drunken idiocy but it wasn’t enough to make him not stagger to the side after his hand signals that failed to magically fix anything and hold–very carefully–onto Dave’s mailbox for support. With any luck? He wouldn’t break that too.
“Thank you. I don’t need tonight getting any more horrible. I was trying to–it wasn’t supposed to be a chunk of sidewalk. I was going for a stone,” he mumbled frustrated at himself for being such a fool. What Dave was thinking of him–Blaine could only imagine. “Are you sure it isn’t any trouble?” Though if he was here when Dave called the insurance company–he could pay him right away and they could get the window replaced before the Karofskys returned and all hell broke loose? That was a plus. Yeah? A lazy lean had him taking a few fancy steps to prevent gravity from working it’s curse and landing him on his rear end. Again. “Oh, I preferred polo but maybe you’re right,” he tried to joke back but it was a weak attempt.
Walter felt the hot liquid slide down his throat as he sipped on the coffee in his hand. He had thought the cheap looking cafe would have just as cheap-tasting drinks, but the place had outdone itself. Thin fingers held onto the styrofoam cup as he searched for an empty table in the small dining area. The Mabry boy had been in hiding ever since he had escaped jail for fraud and money theft, so what better to place to hide from the world than in the small town of Lima, Ohio!
The short man felt an urge to yell bubble up inside him as he failed to find a seat of his own, striped scarf covering his bearded mouth. The time of month called for warm clothing and protection, something he was used to since he grew up in the skirts of London. It wasn’t the weather that was hard for him, but more of the fact that he wasn’t the rich little white boy he was accustomed to.
“Bloody hell !” Walter shouted as the drink he held managed to pour over the front of his peacoat, the temperature of it scalding his pale skin.
Blue eyes glanced up to the person who had bumped into him, causing the spill.
Blaine wasn’t ready to make the trip back to Westerville. Kurt and the others said their goodbyes and he lingered at the Lima Bean after they left to have one more for the road. The trip always took longer this time of year thanks to dark coming earlier and if he was going to be anywhere near close to awake enough to make it to his pitstop caffeine refill? Another medium drip and side double shot of espresso were absolutely necessary.
A smile touched his lips when a reminder message popped up on his phone. Don’t forget on your new gloves! I didn’t buy them for just for looks! Call me if you get bored or tired on the drive. Love you! Xoxo, Kurt. Could Kurt get any sweeter? The answer was: Probably. Never underestimate Kurt Hummel’s power of adorable. Gathering his satchel up from the back of his chair–Blaine sent him a message back as he quickly stood and spun on his heels to go place his order.
He didn’t make it far. –Gloves! Don’t forget the gloves!– Too busy rooting through his things–head down and attention elsewhere–the short boy in a grey and red scarf and black woolen coat smacked directly into someone he didn’t notice was right there.
“Oh my–! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” he cringed then went into a panicked concern seeing hot coffee covering the front of the man’s coat. That had to hurt! “I wasn’t–! Are you okay??”
pianokeysandbowties back up 
