… No. It wasn’t? Couldn’t be? Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was amid riding his celebratory wave, one that only came with selling his very first play; one where he’d made a splash. One destined for Broadway and currently about to begin the beautiful pre-production stage, one that he was very much involved in. After all, BLOWING IT was far too personal a tale to send off into the night and hope for the best, and that it was executed properly. To the world, a tale of the underdog working through the trials and tribulations of life, dealing with an internal struggle in a very external world, one theme at it’s core; loss and regret. Relatable hotcakes that everyone could take stake in. Yet to anyone that knew Kurt Hummel? Well. The life he was supposed to lead, once upon a time. One he desperately clung to in the only way he could; within the pages of his next venture. Writing it had been cathartic in some sense, a coping mechanism before he realized he could spin it.
Yet, the celebrating had stopped because in the center of Little Italy, in a mess of post fruity drinks and cheesecake celebrations, he found himself stopping in the warm June breeze that tickled over his palms and through his hair, as if the past few hours of solo debauchery and socialization with friendly strangers hadn’t already done it’s number on his hairspray. To be fair, he’d been out since this morning, and the celebrations had promptly started after exciting the meeting an getting off the phone with his Burt and Carole to share the incredible news. Even after all these years, Kurt’s ears couldn’t
— wouldn’t deceive him. Two people had left the bar, opening the door as they went and six words had caused him to stop in his tracks. Looking slowly, eyes wide and oddly confused because … It couldn’t be. The front window wasn’t any help given the crowd but Kurt’s mind was already made up as he unglued himself from the street, and pushed his way in, thirsting to hear more than the brief snippet the door had since muffled when it had closed behind the escapees.
… It was. He couldn’t even see Blaine, but he heard him, and it was doing unmistakable things to his heart as he pressed deeper, the New York realness muting any apologies as he pushed through the crowd, almost in a daze. Really, he was, shrouded in disbelief too. Their fairytale hadn’t had a happy ending, and it was something Kurt had regretted every single day. The hurt had dulled over time, of course, but he had also stopped looking for Prince Charming and actively seeking out a relationship because every single guy fell short. His eyes fell upon Blaine when he made it to the front of the crowd and his heart followed suit, dropping from his chest as his mouth went dry. Blaine Anderson. The disbelief was wildly apparent, but all Kurt could do was watch in utter awe, lips parted ever so slightly with pink cheeks from hours of drinking. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone throughout the evening, skin flushing in the same degree as his cheeks. His hand cradled his elbow as the other rested against his mouth, fingers finding solace gently pressed against his bottom lip as he took in the sight before him. Blaine didn’t look like Blaine, well no. Blaine looked like Blaine, just … Not the Blaine he once knew. The one he was in love with, and had planned on spending the rest of his life with. At least not until he’d ruined it all.
The source material was familiarity. Florence Welch, an ethereal goddess that had a tendency to find her way to his record player when he was drowning his sorrows with wine, and even she hadn’t ever brought him to tears so quickly. Well. Not tears, but there was emotion welled in his eyes, blurring Blaine as he sang, eyes focused on his fingers as they danced across the keys, so lost. Er, in the music. But … It was so much more, he was so much more and words were hardly something he could process. So instead he stood, eyes welled with emotion and locked on his just begging him to look up, utterly speechless with his heart beating a million miles per second in the pit of his stomach. Blaine Anderson had been a ghost. There had been no updates. Then again, there weren’t many to update him. And yet today, of all days, they crossed paths? None of it erased one little thing however. ‘I will never forgive you for this.’ or the fact that once upon a time, he had it all. They had it all.
Blaine had been going at this for hours now. Having decided to come in early just for something to do. Besides? Joe, the portly silver haired Italian with the thick white mustache speckled in remnants of the black it used to be needed a few things fixed inside the little bit run down and a whole lot of loved after piano bar in Little Italy Blaine started to call home a few years ago now. In that time, he’d managed to move closer just to be on hand for the man who felt a lot more like a father than his real one ever had. Older now and unable to do all the things he could when he was younger, Joe hated to ask for help so Blaine stopped waiting a long time ago. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon underneath the bar looking between youtube, google and ’I hope I’m doing this right’ but the new drink sprays were working like a charm by the time the crowds started to thicken up. Thank God, Blaine managed to pull that one off with minimal error on the trial and error part.
When the music started? His locals were already two sheets to the wind and having the time of their lives. His voice was just an added layer to their already loud laughter, singing and dancing. But as the night went on, the door had been propped open several times and the music brought more passerbys inside as it always did. Billy Joel, Coldplay, Michael Buble, his music and a virtual playlist of half routine, half ‘I haven’t sung that in a while’ poured out song after song until a random hair put a song in his head and until he sung it, it was going to be stuck there. Florence and the Machine wasn’t his usual go to but it was a random hit on his playlist somewhere between drip, drip, drip on his forehead and I don’t think that pipe is supposed to bend that way. Sleeping wasn’t going to happen until he got it out of his system. Strangely enough, the reactions he got with the first few notes had him grinning that two whiskey grin like he’d never would have thought this was going to work until it did.
Halfway through, his eyes were closed and the world slipped away as it often did when he was lost in the music. They opened to watch his fingertips dance across the keys, thick dark lashes a veil that blocked out the rest of the room covered half his gaze when his head turned to give the crowd a smile for the cheer from the back. One that faltered in mid-fruition when a ghost from his past stood in the middle of the crowd right near the center of the platform his piano was perched on. There was no way he was, actually, there. Not after all these years. The last he’d seen him, Kurt was standing at the top of the staircase that lead up to their his Bushwick apartment having come downstairs to collect the key Blaine handed over with a shaking hand. He waited when he told himself he wouldn’t. Two breaths to hear an, ‘I’m sorry. Please come back home.’ that never happened. Every step back down to the sidewalk felt like a thousand miles and a dozen broken promises. Then silence.
Handyman duct tape and the habit of cutting things off before they got serious (Joe was the only lasting ‘relationship’ he’s had..way to go Joe!) and a fondness for whiskey on the worst nights pieced him together. A lifetime later, he was different. Distanced from all things Ohio (except Sam, always Sam who never brought him up, Blaine asked him that on a rambling buzzed night and Sam promised thus remaining ‘clueless on all things Blaine’ if anyone asked). Now, he managed a normal that was routine, safe, comfortable. Kurt still stood there two blinks later and his heart felt like it was in his belly. His voice cracked from the surprise but their eyes met and could you blame him? Shell shocked and not looking away, brows creased together as if to say ‘is that really you?’, Blaine finished his song and promised he’d be back after a brief break. I see you.. The second time he met Kurt’s eyes after giving the patrons a wave of thanks for the bills tossed into his jar, his seven o’clock shadowed chin ticked towards the doorway underneath the glow of a red EXIT light he turned and walked towards right after.
Everyone was overly involved in conversations with each other by the time Blaine separated from the new group of people he was getting to know a little better and went looking for the next campfire to go introduce himself to. That’s when he caught sight of Victor approaching the get together and a pivot on a pair of navy blue boat shoes later? Blaine stepped up beside him with his drink in hand and a bright, welcoming smile. “Hey! I didn’t know you signed up for this. Glad you did though. By the looks of it? We’re going to need all the help we can get.” God, would they.
It was no secret that most of them were a little underprepared for what they discovered when they got here. The pictures they saw didn’t give out enough warning. Even if the budget was huge and that might’ve been a warning? With so many rich alumni backing them, it was easy to undershoot the massiveness of this all.
Blaine wasn’t any different. He signed up with a few hopes and dreams under his sleeves for what might come of this endeavor. The chance to perform at the show being the main draw. But, wow, this was a mess. Letting it get him down like some had? Even letting it show how overwhelmed he might’ve felt for the past couple of days wouldn’t do them any good. It might bring them down even worse to have another person join the ranks of ‘what the hell did we sign up for’. To prevent that cloud from getting darker, Blaine decided it’d be better to shelf his own concerns and focus on the bigger picture. Keeping everyone motivated to get through this, reassured and happy. That way? No towels would be thrown in and they could get this show on the road.
“Want something to drink? I suggest whatever they’re making in this,” he held up his plastic cup and wriggled it back and forth. “I think they’re Manhattans but it’s not the cheap stuff that’s going to give you a headache and make you regret life in the morning.” Tomorrow was their off day before they dug in. Still. He didn’t want to spend it hurting. “You want to give one a go?”
For movie or TV muses, what is a scene with your muse that you hate? Why? Can you show a screenshot?
I freaking hate this scene right here. That’s the biggest one! Yep. I deal with it but I don’t like it. Zero much. I feel like I understand the spiral that lead him to that point. Keeping his flaws is important to me. But damn I just really didn’t like it. They could have broken up for different reasons. Him feeling abandoned, fights about distance and all that jazz. Just..grrr. Bitter J!
What is your ideal AU for your muse?
So many!! The first one that comes to mind?? I love my piano man verse. It’s got everything I want to write with him for a long time in it. He’s on his own, kinda lost faith in himself and detached from most of his friends. He’s not completely unhappy. He has a boss he loves and a place to work that treats him well. But he knows he shrugged off a lot of where he could have been because he gave up. Doesn’t like that cause it goes against everything he’s ever told others who thought of doing the same. But finds comfort in the routine he’s in. There’s so many aspects of whys, hows, what ifs and potential AUs of the AU! Explaining it here doesn’t do it much justice. I will gush about it to anyone tho!
What is something that was never addressed at all in the canon material that you have independently developed for your muse?
A lot. Like. A ton. LOL! I think one of the most detailed other than Blaine’s family history would be the whole Eli C thing. Who he is. Why Blaine turned to him as the person to cheat with. And all the reasons why you’d have to knock me out to take it away. As always, give me a poke for more thoughts on this guy. Cause I have plenty! 😛
Have you made any outright changes to the canon material in order to write your muse the way you wanted (entire scenes you chose to omit, chapters you say never existed, things you assume were never said, etc.)?
Nope! I don’t negate the mistakes Blaine made in order to play him. I don’t downplay his relationships with people. I don’t make him a victim to his blunders. There are reasons behind the dumb things he’s done sometimes but they are far from excuses. At least in my canon verses. There are things in some AUs that I’ve completely changed and I’m willing to do that always. However, I won’t change who Blaine is at his roots. He’s an adaptable character though and I love that about him. I can put him about anywhere and not turn him completely OOC. Wish Glee could have but alas! That’s what writing is for!
What is an aspect of your muse’s canon material or canon existence that you never had the opportunity to explore but really want to?
BIGGEST!?!?! Pre-Dalton Blaine!!! I have so much I want to write about that. Also, his relationship with the Warblers after leaving and how it changed as they drastically changed. I’d love to write more on him as a father and how his career ended up post S6!
A pillow pushed between the headrest and the window made perfect place to lay his head as he listened to the twang of a guitar playing softly from the speakers on the dash. For close to an hour, Blaine watched the desert scenery blow past the car. Endless miles of empty landscapes marked up with dustbowl thriving cactuses and tumbleweeds from bushes that hadn’t seen water in months and didn’t seem to mind one bit. He wasn’t sure what state they were in anymore. Texas? No. They were past the state that stretched out forever. Weren’t they?
The view outside the window only seemed to change by the occasional oil drill, rusted out town, or little burough in the middle of nowhere that must’ve been made into an actual place to stop by people who got stuck there somehow. Or the sun falling and darkness so deep that it looked like the stars touched the ground if you squint hard enough to see. But it was the perfect place to be because the world they were in with nothing but the road, a dotted yellow line and miles of nothing between them, nothing short of another planet couldn’t look anymore different from Ohio than the desert outside Bloomfield, New Mexico did as Blaine pulled the blanket that’d been pooled in his lap up over his chest and drifted off.
He came to when the last sad guitar riffs played out with Garth’s voice singing words that dug so deep into him he couldn’t help whispering soft against the glass ghosting it in a puff of gray with the heat of his breath. “Do you love me?” Of course, Sam was right there. Answering without Blaine having to repeat himself. How many times could someone need to hear it back? Need to hear that things were okay? Better than okay? They were together. Alone. Miles of asphalt and stars above stretching out to infinity and beyond and he still needed to hear it one more time. Please tell me when it gets annoying. Though Sam wouldn’t ever get annoyed by it. Because that’s the kind of person he was. The kind of person Blaine should have..
‘You know I do.’
They should’ve had this kind of beginning a long time ago.
“Me neither. Ever.” Pinkies linked, the promise was made and sealed. Blaine’s weight shifted towards the light tug and when their gazes connected, he nodded his thanks for the reassurance. Sam had this strange ability to know precisely what he needed. What tone to use, what words to say, when to touch him. All of how he needed to be brought back to Earth came as easy as breathing to the blond. It was a tough job to take on. Blaine knew the initial reason why Sam slept only when he did and barely that for the first couple weeks they were gone. Why he hid the sharp things unless they were using them to cook and why there was only pepto, dramamine and tylenol in the glovebox.
He owed Sam not just his mental state but maybe he owed him for still being here to see miles of dark so thick that it looked like the stars were falling to the ground on the horizon. Who knew if he would have done what Sam was the most terrified of? But Blaine was beyond grateful for at least being around for the chance to wonder about it. About life. About stupid things like the orange glow of streetlights they were driving towards which meant the restaurant had to be within a close enough distance that it wouldn’t hurt to keep their hands laced together even though he settled back into his seat from their shoulders lightly knocking together.
Out of nowhere, Blaine laughed. It was quiet and mostly shook his shoulders and made his face light up but it was a laugh regardless. “Definitely a no bueno type situation. I don’t think that cows are going to exist in space. Space cows might. What if they worship them, though? Then no space cow hamburgers for sure. What if it tastes weird, too? Like chicken or fish or..who knows? Aliens probably eat some fish flakes, like you said. Or fruits that don’t make sense. What if they don’t eat at all? Then what are we gonna do?” He blinked enjoying the mindless chatter full of imagination and fantasy. It was what got them on the silly notion to start driving West in the first place. His mother wasn’t too thrilled with the idea but she let him. They’d deal with the schematics later.
“Yeah. Let’s stop. We’ll get some milkshakes for dessert and coffee for the road. I’ll drive for a while. Let you get some sleep. Fair enough?” Sam wasn’t Superman. Close but not quite past the need for sleep yet. “While we eat we can check out the map. See if there are any sights we need to check out in the morning between here and Nevada. I heard there was some sort of Biggest Ball of Yarn or something like that close by. Can’t beat Henry’s Rabbit Ranch though. Totem Pole Park tried and failed.” The tip of his thumb swiped back and forth over the side of Sam’s hand. Anywhere they went was okay with him. As long as they kept on going.
April pulled the coat tighter over her shoulders, hoping it would keep in the warmth she needed. It was so cold outside and what she was wearing couldn’t really be considered the right thing to wear in this weather.
April found herself having to lean against Blaine, the light in the room causing her to squint though that somehow didn’t seem to help the way her head felt at all. Walking didn’t feel too good either but at least he had one arm around her even if that felt kind of weird. She glanced at him, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t holding onto him for support. “Dunno, just felt like a good place to go. Kinda homey.”
Glad that she kept hold of the coat like he told her to, Blaine walked alongside her giving to give her what reassurance he could by giving her a light hug. Whatever steps the night before she’d taken to get here here must’ve been some rough ones considering she didn’t look like she was aware of where she might’ve woken up. It pulled at his heartstrings to see someone in the state she was in but he couldn’t keep himself from wondering..why and how she ended up like this.
Rock bottom had to be sleeping on a piano bench in the chorus room of the high school you made big plans to break out of while you were stuck there.
He didn’t think it was in his place to ask. So? He tried going about things this way. Seemed easier. Saved her some face and saved him treading where he might be told to mind his own business. Or that he wouldn’t understand. “Yeah. That makes sense.” Nodding as he supported her, Blaine gave the room a look and was immediately glad that they were so early that only the cafeteria ladies were in the lunchroom. They could grab their food and go before anyone was the wiser. “Think you’ll be sticking around for a while again? Or is this just a passing through on the way to better and brighter things?” He, sort of, already could guess the answer to what he asked as a means to see where she was at with this whole situation. “And are you a waffles or pancakes kinda person?” Both? Maybe she should have both.
The words still echoed through his brain as glasz hues followed the other’s movements through the waterworks, a sound strangely soothing as wool fabric brushed his skin. It was all so unexpected. Blaine’s physique for the most part unchanged yet different. Older. Wiser. Perhaps a little more rough around the edges. A clear indicator of the years they had not been a part of each other’s lives, had been each other’s anything, if not the faintest of living memory. He wasn’t sure how it started. Why it began, and why, even after all this time, butterflies managed to swirl around in his stomach.
First gentle; uncertain. Unsure of any consequence or implications, caught by surprise by the sudden closeness and betrayed by his emotions. Eyes falling shut while fingers were left to run past the small of his neck and rested there. Then easy. Effortless. Like finally coming home after a long lost battle — tearstained cheeks left to glow softly under the sweet caress of his palms and his insides no longer hurting. Finally rid of the pretense. Something he had both coveted and managed to hide and lock away for so long he couldn’t help but wonder whether it was all just vivid imagination.
Maybe it had been the simplest of gestures. Of being offered warmth when everything else just seemed so hopeless. Maybe it was the fact that in spite of their differences, their many challenges, Blaine remained nothing but civilized; just as he always had done, as though perhaps, deep down ( save for a bunch of soon to turn gray hairs ) nothing had changed. That somehow fate had finally intervened and brought them back together.
❛ I’ve missed you so much—- ❜
Perhaps it was the many years gone by that had him missing the signs for what was about to happen. Mixed with Kurt crying making his stomach sink. Or his notoriously poor sleeping habits were currently in the our goal is to mess with you on the daily basis phase. But he didn’t catch on (some habits must have a way of repeating themselves even years later) to Kurt’s intention until their mouths were within a breath of one another’s. All at once his head filled with the sounds of tornado sirens going off. DANGER! Run for cover! Because the storm of the century was right on your doorstep. Just about every which way would be the wrong way to go and yet? Here he was. Instead of making a break for the storm shelter? He ran out to embrace it by letting their lips touch. More than touch. He kissed him back.
A slip that he was bound to make. Caused by a weakness that would always be there suddenly being exposed and made raw from the place he’d wrapped it carefully before sealing it away inside of. One that was glaringly apparent he’d always have for Kurt who he adored more than anything, anywhere, anyone else once. But he felt that familiar tingling rush of something he dared not put a name to dance along very nerve, seep into every inch of his body as he breathed the same air, the tastes of their mouths became one and even if it was in the direct line of a disaster tearing straight towards it? Home could be found right here as if it’d been waiting for him to walk right back in like he’d never left.
Loneliness was something Blaine was never good at. He could function in it. Live and breathe in it better than most would give him credit for. Or be able to do themselves. He could turn it into music and melodies that poured from his lips and fingertips. Didn’t make the nights any less quiet when he was alone. Or fill up a part of him he’d kept under a careful watch since.. well.. ’maybe I don’t!’. Nights with strangers was easier than…feeling his heart fill with hope. Tasting it on the tip of his tongue and leaning towards it because he could feel it in a pair of arms that were holding him. Feel it in the hitch of Kurt’s breath and his soul ached to reach out and find the piece that matched the hole inside of himself he’d filled up with just existing.
Their foreheads met and he swallowed thick.
“I missed you, too. You know that. Right?” DANGER! Indeed.
“Alright.” Sebastian opened the door and got out, waiting for Blaine to do the same, as he had already paid the cab on his phone. He shoved one of his hands in his blazer’s pocket and watched as Blaine stepped out. Sebastian remembered the excitement the first time something like that had happened, and how his heart had been leaping. Even then, though, there had always been a sting. The sting of Blaine’s embarrassed withdrawal, whenever Sebastian crossed the line in any semi public place. The sting of Blaine’s panic whenever his phone rang or as much as buzzed. The sting of the mornings – or even the middle of the nights – when Sebastian was left, still warm from Blaine, tasting him, barely cooled down, by a shuffling, nervous, boy, with apologetic eyes.
He’d always thought it wouldn’t bother him. He didn’t take up on monogamous relationships for a REASON, because he believed that if someone WOULD, THEY should be ready to stick to it, and few ever were. He always considered it the committed’s person sole RESPONSIBILITY to keep up their commitment, and not his own when they were already putting it in danger. After all, if someone was eager to commit to their partners, they wouldn’t go to seedy bars, drink, and let boys like him hit on them. But Blaine… Sebastian had watched as every one of their new rendezvous drained the life out of him. As after their each new affair, Blaine would leave more anxious, until the nervousness was even oozing out of his fingertips as he touched him, and Sebastian could taste it in their kisses. That was the whole issue, wasn’t it?
He’d never cared before if someone was nervous, because it was THEIR problem, he’d never cared for them. But he did for Blaine. He cared for Blaine more deeply than he could remember himself caring for anyone else in his life. Except for his mother. And to watch each of their new meetings cause Blaine’s light to die, had almost but killed him. It made him feel dirty, and guilty, for daring take something as good as Blaine. Like it was what Blaine was feeling when he touched him, as though they were both blaming HIM for it, and at the end, he just stopped enjoying it altogether. There was no room left for it. Just an obsessive need not to see it end. And Sebastian had never been good at possessiveness.
He blinked, as he realized he’d walked Blaine inside and his phone was shoved over the balcony, as the front desk attendant saw to their keycards and wished them a “Happy stay, Mr. Smythe.” He swallowed, trying to get his head back in the game, and grabbed the cards, as he nodded to Blaine and put a hand on his upper back again as he guided him to the elevator, dreading the silence that immediately set in as they got inside, and the doors closed, leaving them alone with the heavy static air between them.
Blaine stepped out of the cab having squeezed the side of his phone that he shoved into the pocket of his jacket until he was sure it was shut off. Golden hazel eyes shifted his stare up high to the top of the hotel and he wondered if it might be too late to grab Sebastian’s wrist, step backwards into the cab and they could leave here. Sebastian could go home. Blaine would make sure he got there safely before he disappeared to points unknown leaving only a trail of departing red tail lights and a thousand unspoken apologies in his wake before fading off. It’d be fairer to the one person in this whole mess that deserved only good. And that was the person standing there looking at him, waiting for him to follow along because Blaine had, apparently, lost his ability to stop hurting him months ago. If not longer. Maybe that’s all he ever really did in the long run. Hurt him. Even their good times were laced with ache.
Being ladened with guilt was as a familiar sensation was what it felt like for the warmth that filled his belly when Sebastian took the lead with a hand on his back and walked him inside. Another testament to how twisted and wrong everything about them became. When something so horrible can be as equal of a feeling as the good so they fit together in a terrible seamlessness? How could he have stood by and let this all happen? Been the catalyst for it, even? Has he always just been this way? Capable of this? Careful what questions you wish could be answered wen the answer is so damn…awful you don’t want to know. One more elevator ride. One more closed door. And he’d never do this to him again. No matter what the cost was.
The elevator rose up each floor in an agonizingly slow ascent made worse by the silence and stupid canned music playing overhead. Not loud enough to make this any less uncomfortable than the quiet was turning it into. How was he supposed to open his mouth and say a word when he wasn’t sure that if he did do that? Stopping would be impossible. The risk of anyone coming in and interrupting kept Blaine’s mouth closed the entire ride up. His hands were kept to himself by lacing his fingers together because the temptation to reach out and take Sebastian’s kept digging in deeper and deeper until his insides were twisted around the idea.
He got so good at staring at the floor that it took another touch for him to realize that the ride he wished would end was over. The doors pulled open and once again, Sebastian was the one to take the lead towards a destination Blaine knew he was dreading more with every step. But he couldn’t not go. Why? Because Blaine asked. They were inside the room and he barely cleared the door before he came to a sudden stop. “I’m sorry I did this to us. I’m sorry I made us become something that felt like this when it used to be something so good. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. Over and over again but I’m,” his voice broke and he finally made eye contact, “sorry.”
It’s funny, really – here Elliott was, constantly fighting the idea he was an IMPOSITION on Blaine. The idea that he was less than, nothing but a quick fuck like he’d been told he was again and again, that people had made him feel over the years – even people he trusted immensely.
He’d grown into that far, FAR too young.
But Blaine felt so similarly, and Elliott knew they both just needed a little more LOVE, a little more reminding and attentiveness. They both needed a partner like the other, and it was evening out into something altogether more BEAUTIFUL.
Once Blaine had turned, Elliott’s hands snaked around his waist, chin gently resting atop his partners shoulder as he just looking him over for a moment in the mirror.
Then hands were sliding up his sides, Elliott tip-toeing up behind, across Blaine’s shoulder blades with an affectionate pressure, ending their journey in his hair. Complete with another playful little TUG at the curls.
“Don’t look at me, look at you.” The hands that made their way back down, so full of gentle, loving touches that held nothing but affection. That made Elliott’s point without ever having to use words: Blaine was BEAUTIFUL, and so perfectly IMPERFECT, and Elliott only wished he saw half of what he saw in him. That Blaine could view what Elliott did in that mirror.
Blaine sighed as he relaxed back against Elliott’s chest. Feeling his chin press against his shoulder, he reached back to push his fingers through Elliott’s thick hair not once blinking out of fear that he might break their eye contact. Mirrored or not? Elliott had a way of making him breathless with that sort of stare.
Until he broke it and Blaine watched as Elliott looked him over. With a curl of his fingers against his scalp, Blaine slowly pulled his hand free and rested it on top of Elliott’s forearm. Now both rested there, holding on and making sure Elliott’s hold on him didn’t falter.
Their quiet was nice. Simple and without a need to fill it up right away. He shifted as Elliott did, letting arms fall loose as his eyes closed with the touch over his shoulders. Heaven. It felt like heaven and Blaine bit into his lip when the lengths of Elliott’s fingers buried into his hair.
A tiny curve of his lips let him keep his not so playful reaction to that tug more of the playful sort and not groan-worthy as it might’ve been had he not caught himself. The stupid expression was still there when Elliott’s voice drew his eyes open and his breath caught cutting off his initial protest. Instead? He listened. Slowly. His gaze shifted from Elliott to his reflection with his loose curls hanging near his eyes and he quickly decided he probably needed a haircut.
Goosebumps prickled up in the wake of Elliott’s fingertips and he tilted his head at himself. Blaine understood what Elliott was trying to say without words and it was beyond sweet. Beyond kind. Typical Elliott but something Blaine hoped wouldn’t change. “Thank you,” he whispered letting his head rest against the slope of Elliott’s neck and collarbone. “Thank you for being you. And for us.”
Hudson had sheet music in front of him as he moved around the house. He’d been home alone, his mom and step-dad went back to New York to take care of some business – taking Lucy with them, and he was taking advantage of being home alone. He’d had all the emergency numbers in case anything happened. And Rachel had given him strict instructions to make sure he got his chores done. He’d been working on learning the new song for glee club while cleaning.
Brown eyes looked at the sheet music as he sat it down as he started vacuuming the living room before belting out the song that he was supposed to be doing a duet with Caroline. “I’m nothing special, in fact I’m a bit of a bore. When I tell a joke, you’ve probably heard it before. But I have a talent, a wonderful thing cause everyone listens when I start to sing,” he sang before turning off the vacuum before turning to see Blaine standing in the doorway.
“Hey, did my mom send you to check up on me?” Hudson asked running his fingers through brown locks before putting the vacuum away before walking back over to the place he set the sheet music down. “Actually I could use some help with this song. It’s a song for glee club. We’re doing it as a duet and I want to get it down. Unfortunately, my duet partner is unable to work on it today.”
Kurt and he had another two weeks left in Ohio before New York City called them back. Rachel asked them to check in on her son and it was the least he could do. Hudson was a great kid. Spending time with him was one of the best perks of being his mother’s best friend. A few bags of groceries were left on the kitchen counter and he followed the sound of Hudson’s voice.
Blaine stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed lightly over his chest. His lopsided grin couldn’t be helped. The longer he watched Hudson, the wider it got. Not wanting to interrupt the spectacle of a glee club rehearsal mid-vacuum sequence. Hazel eyes twinkled as they wrinkled at their corners. Could this kid get any cuter? The answer was no. Seeing him brought back memories that made his chest grow warm.
A brow jerked up when he was, finally, noticed. “Hey! Yes. She did. Just to see if you needed anything.” Blowing out a breath as he stepped down into the living room, he pressed his lips together and hitched his shoulders. “Sure. Just give me a part and we can rehearse until you know you got it. Deal? So,” he rubbed his palms together in anticipation, “Where do we start?”
pianokeysandbowties back up 