‘’ —— you realize being single for what is possible the WORST holiday of them all isn’t the end of the world,
right?‘’ personally, she’s never been much into the idea of valentine’s day ——
everything about it, from the flowers to the social media declarations of love
to the sad, mopey single people just seems so —— F A K E, if you ask the girl.
so it’s needless to say that she had no intentions of wallowing, and no
complaints about spending the time alone. still —— ‘’ —— i suppose i could
make TIME for that, though.‘’ it’s not like she really has
anything more interesting planned. and fingers are reaching out to grab the
coffee, taking a small sip before continuing on, the words accompanied by a
pointed gaze. ‘’ —— but you better
not start CRYING halfway through about how no one will e v e r love you and how you might as
well just start adopting cats now.‘’
“Valentine’s Day isn’t the WORST holiday of them all. What about Columbus Day? That one is pretty insane to think about. Oh! And Groundhog Day where an entire country banks the weather on if a marmot sees it’s shadow? Thanksgiving is pretty awful considering the true outcome. Those are much worse than possibly one of the greatest days to spend with the person you love. If you have one, that is,” the last of his protest faded with a mumble that was directed towards his lap. Tangling his fingers, he pouted down at his thumbs as they went to war with one another. A protest that he wasn’t going to pay attention if she was only going to rag on one of his favorite days of the year. Claire had one of those stares that you could feel jab into the side of your head and demand nothing short of paying strict attention to her. Blaine resisted the urge to look up for a few seconds (record time, mind you!) before folding. Sighing, his pleading look softened into gratitude for not being left to flail alone. “Thank you. I promise. I won’t dissolve into tears or start buying cat trees yet. IF! You promise to try to have a little fun? Even if you think today sucks? I’m a pretty good platonic date partner. Or so I’m told.”
It was BLAINE, and whatever Blaine looked like – curly hair all around his face or sweaty or wearing some of those HORRIBLE colour combinations he seemed so very fond if – Elliott thought it was cute. Elliott just…couldn’t see him as anything that wasn’t a synonym for ‘CUTE’, ‘SEXY’ or ‘WONDERFUL’.
Elliott’s tattooed hand moved up to tap the tip of Blaine’s nose as it was scrunched, finding great joy in such an ADORABLE little expression like that.
“Wash it out? For me?” He wouldn’t BEG, but…well, he’d ask. A lot. He wanted to see it dry and curled, that was something Blaine never let him see, and he wanted to.
He wanted to see him like that, so VULNERABLE.
The tap against his nose made him chuckle and scrunch it up even worse to shake away the weird feeling it left behind. Fingers twitched against the wall they’d plastered themselves against before swinging up and NEARLY landing a tap of his own..
Except Elliott’s request made him pause, a bewildered expression replaced his smile. “You want me to..? I..” Drawing in a breath, he felt a splash of heat as it colored the bridge of his nose and cheeks. “It needs cut. It’s a literal mop that hangs in my eyes..but.. If you really want me to? Just be prepared for the image to be burned in your mind forever.”
How could he say no to such a simple request?
Even if he wouldn’t, he wanted to warn Elliott that he might never be the same again after witnessing the mess of curls that were semi-contained even at night.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right out, okay?” Humming as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Elliott’s cheek, Blaine lowered himself back down after a second peck and glanced past Elliott towards the sink. Oh boy..
he still couldn’t believe it. of course he knew that blaine was in the big apple. just never had the chance to look him up. ❝ yeah – i moved here back in september from chicago. i’m in medical school at columbia. ❞ he said. he wrapped his arms around him for a quick hug.
❝ – do you have time to sit? ❞ he asked as he motioned to his table. he moved his laptop and books out of the way so blaine had room.
❝ – so what have you been up to? how is kurt – you’re still together right? ❞
Bright eyes took in the sight of Nick as if he were trying to figure out how fate plopped them both in this exact spot together and the answer was written in Nick’s very presence. “September? Columbia? Wow! That’s great! I can’t believe you’re here.” He blinked and nodded quickly. Like there was any other option?! Brushing off a single class wouldn’t hurt. Not for the sake of catching up with a fellow former Warbler. “Yeah, I’ve got time. I’d make it if I didn’t.” And he slid into the chair, letting his bag fall to the floor at his feet.
“Still together,” he asked with that same, stupefied grin talking about Kurt continued to bring out, “Yes! Of course. We’re married.. Going on four years.” Pride shined out of him like a beam of sunlight cutting through the clouds. “Can you believe it? What else besides Columbia have you been up to? How do you like New York City?”
A triumphant grin dressed the speedster’s features. Indeed he knew of Blaine’s fondness of musicals, but he knew little to nothing about the context in which he liked to watch them, what kind of mood he needed to be in before even considering watching one, whether or not he preferred theatre over movies——admittedly, the seemingly casual comment had been but a shot in the dark that happened to successfully hit the target because from Barry’s perspective, Christmas time was the perfect context in which to watch some old-fashioned, black and white musical comedies as an attempt to enhance his spirits, readying him to enjoy what was probably one of his favorite times of the year. Now that he thought about it, that casual comment might have almost been a subconscious attempt at opening up. Guarded as he was known to be most of the time, revealing almost nothing about his personal life ( mostly because he didn’t want to accidentally give away clues that could lead to the revelation of unspeakable secrets ), he wanted to believe that was actually him making personal progress, relationship-wise.
“My favorite?” Suddenly, from feeling proud about his own step forward towards emotional maturity, he went back to feeling self-conscious, invaded by the irrational fear that Blaine would find in his choice for a favorite musical a reason for which to judge him. Of course if he gave it proper thought, there was absolutely nothing reprovable about it, especially by someone who openly admitted to love musicals, but it was called an IRRATIONAL fear for a reason. Fearsome hesitation was soon chased away by the pair of lips pressed to his cheek, making Barry’s smile return. “Uh, it’s… Singing In The Rain,” he therefore answered at last with a lot more confidence that he would have before Blaine joined him, welcoming the glass of wine with an appreciative bob of his head. “My mom and I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid.” The other’s confession caught him while he was taking a sip of wine, leaving him with no choice but to raise his eyebrows over the rim of his class as a reaction. “You sort of missed me?” His smile morphed into a touched grin and his arm rose to drape itself around him, resting on the back of the couch behind Blaine’s head. “I mean, if you want I could just leave until you miss me for real.”
Singing In The Rain? Barry looking so unsure about his answer made Blaine cock his head to the side. Why would anyone feel embarrassed about loving a Gene Kelly classic. Probably THE Gene Kelly classic. Grinning playfully, he was about to suggest that they search for it so they could put it on when his very night he was secretly relishing over was horribly threatened! Feigning a gasp and a wide eyed, hurt look–Blaine snapped his gaze from the wine he was squinting at straight to the man beside him. Dropping his jaw–round, hazel eyes blinked. “You so aren’t going to do that. Nope. I’m not letting you go now.” Chuckling, he lowered his glass and turned so that he could rest his shoulder against the back of the couch and lean his head towards Barry’s arm. One hand reached out to clasp over an outstretched bicep and he plucked at Barry’s sleeve, eyebrow raising as he goaded him on. “I mean. I already have been.. For real. You have no idea. I had to joke about it because of the humiliating level of missing you that it actually was.” Okay, that last part was true. One hundred percent true.
If Barry had any clue how many nights he spent wishing that the spot on the other side of his bed was occupied by Barry’s warmth instead of empty air, Blaine would probably crawl into a hole and not come out until the speedster promised to never make eye contact again. After a brief pause where his lips remained smiling, but parted. Gaze fixed on Barry’s but glimmering with unsurety–Blaine brought his glass up and took a swallow to mute any sort of slip he might’ve been on the edge of. Instead of words, he let his temple come to rest against the couch close enough to the inside of Barry’s elbow that one jerk up would have him knocking his skull into his arm. Turning just far enough that he could spot the remote sitting on the end table beside Barry, he gestured towards it with a wave of fingers lifting only far enough from his knee to be noticed and cleared his throat. “Um. I think we found the title of our first movie. What do you say? Or you can find any number you like. First round’s on you. Now, you gotta stick around. Cause leaving during a movie you picked is beyond rude.” See what he did there? Oooh! Slick!
Gathering enough self-control to stop himself from pressing to Blaine’s lips each and every kiss he believed he deserved was challenging, as evidenced by the way he immediately leaned in for a second after having only just pulled away from the first one, but somehow, he managed, making up for it by granting himself a few seconds to shamelessly contemplate him. “You’re very welcome. And thank you for all the… hours of labor you put into this.”
He glanced down at the card he had spent far too long not looking at, realizing that perhaps it was the person behind the joke that brought such a bright smile to his features rather than the joke itself——although admittedly, the joke had something to do with it too. “See, I got you the ‘I’m falling for you and I can’t get up’ meme card but… I feel like you beat me already, this one’s much better.”
Blaine was helpless when it came to resisting any kiss given to him from the man who remained so dangerously close even after the pecks finally peppered down to a halt. Pulling away was an impossible idea. Preposterous even! So, he returned each one and even chased after another by lifting up off his heels in hopes of landing one. Which he did. If on the tip of Barry’s chin counted. It did for him. Satisfied, for now, he hummed his gratitude for Barry acknowledging such a labor of love on his part to create the masterpiece on his desk. “You’re welcome. I’d do it all over again for that look on your face.” Cause it filled him with such warmth, the sensation was indescribably yearned for now.
That feeling he got when he mad Barry happy was the best feeling he’s had in so long. How could he even attempt to say how much it meant? Sure, he could try to sing it (face it, he probably would later) but he wanted him to know now. Hazel eyes utterly sparkling with happiness were practically pinched closed with how wide he smiled before laughter took over. His arms lifted, wrapped around Barry’s shoulders so he could keep him close. “Hmm. That one is a pretty close second runner up. I’ll give you an A plus anyway. Especially if you really have fallen for me..and you know.. Um?.” Biting his lip, he lifted both brows in a hopeful plea. “I mean? At least a little bit? Or a lot.. Definitely. A lot would be much better but..yeah.”
“Ma told me you stopped by earlier looking for me. Sorry about that, I was, ya know — Doing some chores and shit.” She’d warned him from over the fence to stop sending people her way ; Eventually his inability to come to the door would be unexplainable, and people will ask questions. But it was too late for that. All he could do was steer Blaine away from his mother’s house. “She’s a real stickler for me finishing that stuff before I get to go do anything.” He forced in a smile, dropping himself down onto his friend’s mattress. “That and she doesn’t like people in the house. I don’t know why, paranoid I guess.”
The idea that Tate’s mother was paranoid to have people in her house when Tate made sure to warn him that she had a very bad case of sticky fingers was not only ironic but vaguely insulting. But the way she spoke when he was at the door? It felt like she was nervous. Like she’d rather have anyone but him standing there asking to see her son. Had he done something to offend her when she visited? He had no idea and she didn’t give him any window of opportunity to ask either. To say he left the doorstep confused was an understatement. Tate was here, though and Blaine was doing his best to let the whole situation go. Plopping beside him, he folded his legs up onto the bed, ankles crossed together and curled his fingers around them. “It’s okay. You’re in the clear now, right? I mean. You can stay for a while, yeah? My parents are out of town and I’m still not used to this place yet. Feels way too quiet at night.. Mostly.”
Santana wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a home with Blaine at all, actually. She imagined their transition into being each other’s only roommates would be a lot smoother than hers was with Rachel and Kurt. She would never have admitted out loud, but she extremely LEFT OUT and alone when she first moved to the city, despite having two roommates. Rachel and Kurt were like a couple in their own right, and she felt like a third wheel for a lot of the time. It WAS NOT a pleasant feeling. As uncomfortable as their living situation was, Santana enjoyed having more people around who she could spend time with and almost relate to a little bit more, Blaine being one of those people. “Don’t tell anybody.” A smile crept on to her lips before she took a long, slow sip from her steaming coffee mug. Santana raised her eyebrows in surprise a Blaine’s question. She didn’t expect him to actually consider her half joking offer, but now that she began to think about it, she quite liked the idea. “Wow, you’d actually ditch Hummel? Are things that… Is everything okay with you two, seriously? I mean, I’d have no problem breaking the news, you can just sit back and RELAX. It’d sure as hell be a lot better than what we’ve got going on now. I need a bed. The amount of times I’ve been tempted to go and spoon Rachel is.. DISGUSTING.”
Blaine leaned close enough to bonk the sides of their shoulders together. A conspiratory grin tugging one corner of his lips up. “Not a word. I promise.” Then sighing, he deflated back into the cushions and chewed the inside of his bottom lip as he thought of every scenario under the moon that might happen if he approached the subject. The news could go several different ways. Hoping for the turnout where he and Kurt could have proper alone time with one of them having an actual room–Blaine blinked at the question that cut his mulling into an immediate halt. “No things aren’t that.. Yes. Everything’s okay. We’re just..in a rough patch. Mostly from the overcrowding, I’m sure. We haven’t been able to just be each other since I moved here. You know?” Scrambling to erase the notion out of her head that she should be the one to break the news, a hand came to rest on her forearm and he gave it a gentle and reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got it. No need for that. I don’t think he’d appreciate secondhand talk about something as serious as me moving out. If we’re serious about this. Are we?” Santana and Rachel spooning? The image was enough to make him laugh in spite of the seriousness of their conversation. A half-hearted smile lingered as he reached for the mug of tea he made for himself earlier. “Disgusting? Hey. I have it on official knowledge that Rachel is a great snuggler. It’s not that gross!”
“Oh, mais ça n’a pas l’air si bon.” Jason commented, looking down at the pinkey. “Looks like it is not in good shape.” he explained, looking up at Blaine with a worried expression on his face. “He may not like loosing to a gay man but he still lost, otherwise you’d be in much worse condition. Been there, done that. And I’m bisexual.” he sighed. “And that was long before I started working with the FBI. Oh, I work with the FBI by the way. Civilian consultant. Linguistics. I speak fourteen languages and none of them are Brute. You shouldn’t have to deal with that. How old are you? Twenty five? At most?” Jason was bad with ages so he couldn’t say for sure.
All that French reminded Blaine of a certain someone he hadn’t seen in years. Not a bad memory, no. Just one that made him realize that maybe he should pick up the phone and call to say hello. Check to make sure his old friend was doing well and what his life was like now. Thinking of that should’ve helped with a distraction. Nope. Blaine’s resolve not to admit to how bad that hurt faltered just long enough for a cringe to escape when he flexed his fingers in defiance of it ‘not being in good shape’. “Might’ve jammed it up a little,” his mumble was aimed at his hand even though his gaze darted up to meet Jason’s before his attention was pulled back to the finger in question. “I think I have something in my bag I can take. I’ll get it checked out in the morning if it’s worse. Promise.”
The longer he listened to the stranger telling him a bit about himself, the more curious he got. Blaine even huffed at the irony in just admitting to an FBI Agent that he was in a fist fight where he might’ve done more damage than the other guy. That’d be his luck. Blaine waited until Jason was finished before giving him an understanding smirk. “Been there, done that? Sorry you went through it. No one should have to. This wasn’t the first time for me. Who knows if it’ll be the last? I’m twenty four. Good guess. My birthday’s in a little over a week. You were almost spot on.” Must have been a lucky night for Jason coming that close! “I’m probably taking up way too much of your time for this. I apologize. You didn’t have to help but you did. So. Thanks.”
“… Yeah. Let’s just… Cab.” Sebastian’s voice was rough as he tried to swallow it down and motioned outside with a short nod, press of lips, and that small commiserate pop of jaw that tugged his lips down of whenever he – if rarely – sourly admitted defeat. there was no victory against Blaine, there never had been. Sebastian was screwed the moment Blaine walked into that rehearsal room, or even before that, the moment someone said his name, Trent maybe, Blaine Anderson, and for a moment, an entire group of boys perked up, time slowed down, and faces lit up with an admiration that made him feel empty. He’d been hungry for more of Blaine, to fill that void ever since. Because as used as he’d been with people in awe of him, his whole life, no one had ever looked at him the way those boys looked like when talking about their ex leader, and at first it’d made Sebastian want them to. And then, after meeting Blaine, after getting WHY, it’d just made him wish, every day, that Blaine would know he was THERE. For more than five minutes, or a quick text.
This part was sickeningly easy, and maybe that was the worst of it. A hand fell on the small of Blaine’s back like breathing, a comfortable distance, enough to be friendly, and Sebastian quickly guided him outside, before they could gather anymore unwanted attention. A few more steps, a quick text to one of his on call cab drivers, and before he could think about it, one was parking in front of them. Sebastian opened the door for Blaine, second nature at this point really, and waited for him to go in before slipping in, himself, and giving the driver the right address. As the car took off, he was already booking them a room in his phone. And once he was done, he just stared at the screen, lost.
He felt numb.
When had he got here? It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you. He wanted to laugh. Only it did. It did bother him. When Blaine had first come knocking on his door that night, Sebastian had thought the worst of it was knowing he’d finally chosen to cheat, and decided to do it with someone else, that he wasn’t even attracted enough to Sebastian for THAT. He’d been wrong. This was worse. Even if he didn’t fully understand why yet. He didn’t reach out. Didn’t try to touch, though he glanced at him, as the cab rolled through Westerville. His green eyes small with doubt, thin as his lips, and the skin between his thumb and curled forefinger. He pinched his nose and cleared his throat as the cab stopped. “We’re here.” He paused and looked at him. “You sure you wanna do this, killer?” He might not be sure what they were going to do, but he knew Blaine and he knew whatever they did, or didn’t do, Blaine would carry it with him for the rest of his fairytale life with Kurt. And as much as Sebastian hated the thought of their perfect marriage, he didn’t want the fault in it to be his, either.
Relief flooded in when Sebastian mentioned a cab. As short lived as it was bound to be given this entire, messed up situation–Blaine needed just a little more time. Just a little more selfishly begged for and reluctantly given time. He’d taken so much of Sebastian’s time already. Wasted it on friendship that maybe couldn’t last past the the things they did that Blaine promised himself wouldn’t ruin them. That they promised wouldn’t tear them down to nothing and it had. Hadn’t it? Looking at Sebastian’s profile, seeing the way he caved in defeat for something that he used to give so happily because being around one another as friends was better than being without each other period, was all the confirmation he needed. A blind man could see that much without barely a glance. They were ruined and if this was goodbye? There was no way in hell Blaine was going to say it in the middle of a coffee shop. Not like that. Never.
Being guided by Sebastian’s hand, Blaine followed where he was lead. Glad to be away from anyone listening or watching, hesitant eyes shifted their glare towards the cement and up to Sebastian’s mouth again. Was it still pulled tight? With the paper thin line between his lips and burrowed brows? Yeah. It was. What was horrible was that the looks that Blaine used to feel his soul come to life when he was given them were long gone now. Blaine couldn’t remember when the last time Sebastian looked at him so teasingly, so happily, and with that devil may cry charm mixed with just enough ot raunchy sarcasm that Blaine felt his head spin dizzy from excitement instead of starting to throb at the temples sharp enough that the leather and coffee smell inside the cab made him nauseated. Sure. Blame it on the smell. Another lie to believe. Like the one where Sebastian wasn’t doing this because he wasn’t wired to say no to him.
He felt sick.
Blaine didn’t do anything to break the silence during the ride. He’d gone from watching Sebastian to the color change of his fingertips as he dug the edge of his left thumbnail under the right like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. A sharp gasp and Blaine jerked his head towards Sebastian. Surprised, round eyes blinked like he hadn’t realized the car came to a stop and they arrived until Sebastian spoke up. Killer. His bottom lip shoved itself against it’s match and he swallowed a golf ball sized lump in his throat. “Y-Yeah. Let’s go inside. Don’t have to stay long. I promise. I just need..,” clamping his mouth shut, his gaze shot towards the cabbie and then to Sebastian and he decided he’d wait until they had their room to say anything else. Judging by how wobbly his tone was? The former Warbler might need the break from talking anyway.
pianokeysandbowties back up 