Nick waited for their usual spot at Starbucks, waiting for his friend, Blaine. He had just gotten out of a final exam and lab. Dressed in his purple scrubs he drank his venti coffee, hoping Blaine would come soon because he didn’t want Blaine to drink his coffee cold. Especially since the line was 20 people long.
“ Cmon Blaine.” He whispered.
Hitting traffic when it was at it’s worst had Blaine jogging through the crowd towards the Starbucks where he was scheduled to meet Nick fifteen minutes ago. He cut through where he could, darted around others where he couldn’t and kept muttering apologies while readjusting his satchel close to a dozen times because he kept getting choked by it. Not the best day of days but at least he had spending time with Nick to look forward to.
When he slid into the seat across from his long time friend–his loose curls bounced in front of his eyes. A winded breath blew some out of the way but he shot Nick a guilty, lopsided smile in hopes of making up for being late. “Hey. Hi. Sorry. It’s been a day. Hope you weren’t waiting too long?”
“Kurt! Yes! I am! First thing’s first? I hope you have the next twenty minutes free. Now that you’re in my arms? It’s going to take at least that long for me to be willing to consider letting you go.
It’s terrifying to be drugged- and Mason’s pretty damned positive that’s what’s going on here. It makes him want to throw up- to get whatever is in his system out of it. It’s worse than chocolate– something he’s deathly allergic to, well.. cocoa beans at least.The 6′1 male is genuinely shaking. He feels like he’s about to pass out and by the second Blaine pulls him outside, he’s looking like he’s completely glazed over. English isn’t something he’s comprehending.
He stares down at the smaller male and his eyebrows furrow. Blaine’s clearly talking to him, but he can’t make out the words. “Speak clearer,” he asks, with an added ‘please’ at the end. His heartbeat is pounding and he feels like everyone else is running while he’s in slow motion. Bright eyes scan the night sky as he tries to look around for someone. He had been talking up this guy at the bar for a bit- but he’s nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like he had tasted anything funny in his drinks either.
Mason’s about to fall- he can feel it, and it’s not like Blaine’s strong enough to get him into the uber, so he’s trying his hardest to stand up straight, but his knees are like jell-o This is the worst feeling Mason McCarthy has ever felt.
“I– B, I need to sit down. —- Please.”
Oh my God! Blaine was a mix of terrified and enraged. Hazel eyes screamed that he wanted to go back into the club, find the person that did this and use them in place of the the punching bag hanging in his apartment that he’s neglected for months. His was face drained of color and blank from worry as he stared up at Mason. Trembling hands did their best to hold onto him so he didn’t topple over once they were on the sidewalk and on their own. The few people who passed by didn’t pay them much mind. More than an glance or two.
He had to force himself not to give a second’s worth of a glance to anyone who got too close to them wondering if the psycho that did this was sneaking out to see if Mason was left alone. Focusing on his friend was the main concern. Not anyone else. Or the fact that he really really wanted to punch the guy. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’ll try to speak slower,” and he did through wrapping his arm more firmly around Mason’s slender waist and holding tight.
“Sure. Let’s sit down. Keep talking. Okay?” He gently swerved them away from the foot traffic and gingerly lowered himself towards a bent knee to help Mason down on the sidewalk.
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. Do you want to go to the hospital,” he asked but was already debating on taking him anyway. Who knew what he was on? Or how much?
Mason stared at Blaine, who was slightly blurry- which was weird. Mason had never needed glasses. Man, that was going to suck if suddenly he needed them. He reached out to the other male and clung to the man’s arm cautiously- a bit now nervous at this. First time clubbing was now suddenly going to become last time clubbing, or that was how Mason was vowing in his head now.
“I just said I didn’t feel good Blaine. Like, I want to go back to my apartment.”
There was a pause from the taller male as he looked around. Where the hell did he even live from here? Looking around the club- Mason dug his nails into Blaine, feeling even more terrified now.
“Blaine, wh– what is going on?”
Unable to hear Mason trying to get his attention the first time over the volume of the music–Blaine gave him a curious look and didn’t really like what he saw when he studied him close. He couldn’t help the ‘are you okay’ that followed. Honestly–Mason didn’t look all that great. When a hand clutched his arm–Blaine’s concern only worsened and he quickly curled his fingers around a slender wrist. Was he going to get sick?
“Okay. Sure. Let’s get out of here..,” Blaine stopped when Mason paused and instinctively followed the other man’s glance around the club wondering what he was looking for. There wasn’t anything to find–probably for Mason–not even his bearings.
A sharp breath cut through his lips when fingernails bit into his skin but he didn’t do anything to remove them as Mason when from lost to obviously afraid. Did someone put something in his drink? Blaine’s concern tripled at the thought. “Hey? Just breathe for me okay? Let me get you out of here. I’ll page an Uber and we’ll get you back to my place faster than yours.”
“Come on. Let’s go. Mason? What were you drinking?”
Santana couldn’t count the papers && coffee cups if she tried. Finals were hitting Blaine hard, && as entertaining it was to see him flustered — she was concerned. He worked so hard, never giving up on the things (or people) he was passionate about. Blaine Anderson was a truly good person. How she got to keep him in her life for so long sometimes baffled her. Kurt could be sarcastic and cruel, Rachel was stuck up && bitchy when she needed to be — then there was Blaine. Maybe a diva at times, but never bad. Not on purpose anyways, which was better than most of them could say. He was something special, && that hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Today wasn’t the first time it happened. Santana had a habit of snuggling up to her friends when sleepy. It was just more comfortable to sleep with a warm body by her side. Or better yet beneath her. She’d nearly passed out after a long session of television && self reflecting. That’s all there was to do when the rest of the household slept. She didn’t even fully wake up before finding her way to Blaine’s side. She felt his body shift after a few moments but that didn’t stop her tired head from resting against him. Her attention was only grasped when he brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Hello to you too, bed head.” She laughed under her sleepy breath as she got a look at his disheveled brown locks. “Oh hell no, Anderson — no fair. Everyone knows that I call the shots around here. I refuse to let you move. I am far too comfortable, so you’re stuck with me.” The latina offered a confident smirk before relaxing in his embrace once more.
Blaine kept one hazel eye squeezed shut while he peeked at her with the other. “Are you judging my hair? Probably a mess, huh? You better forget you ever saw this once we’re actually awake,” he smirked lazily and reached back to shove some of the loose strands that were fighting so hard to curl again now that they were out of their gelled cage off his forehead. No luck. His hairdo was a goner. Santana’s quick comeback was nothing short of what should be expected. Given the fact that he just woke up to her snuggling with him while he was utterly the oblivion of sleep and it was incredibly sweet if you thought about it? There has to be a certain amount of bossy tone mixed with her sleepy voice to balance things out or she wouldn’t be Santana Lopez. “Okay, Okay. You’re not letting me move. I get it. I’m the one that’s stuck.”
Slinging one arm around her waist–Blaine nuzzled the back of his head against the cushion again. He’d let her win this round but anyone who saw them would say with her legs tangled up in his and her in his arms as the edge of his nose was fit against the top of her head keeping her firmly in place–he was the one in the lead as far as who was stuck with who. “Everything okay,” he asked in a mumble into her hair still half asleep and wondering whether or not if he was going to wake up and get back to work or stay here longer. The second option was winning so far. “Just checking. Cause if you need to talk or anything? I’m here and I don’t think I have it in me to pick up another text book for the rest of the night.”
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.”
It had been a year since Emmett had arrived in New York at first awestruck by it all he has only been here once but they didn’t get much time to explore as it was more of a rescue mission but now He was there permanently, he worked on costumes helped with the set and really was the director right hand of course in more ways then one.
He was helping one of the cast members with their costumes a younger man. He held pins in his mouth as his hiked up the shorter male’s pants. “Hold up, hun. You’re almost perfect just don’t wiggle to much.” He advised looking up at him. “What was your name?” He asked him.
He made it! Finally made it! The Palace Theatre was abuzz with the oncoming production’s rush for costume changes, last minute lighting redesign and rehearsal after rehearsal until he was sure he wasn’t going to ever stop singing. Not even in his sleep. Today, it was his job to just stand in his dressing room while his costumes were fitted, hemmed and probably had the same done to them repeatedly until they were just right. Boy, he was failing at it.
“I’m trying. Sorry. I regret all the coffee I had this morning and afternoon,” Blaine replied softly with an apologetic wince that turned into a set of wide eyes and waving hands. You know? The brand of ‘oops’ that made him do exactly what Emmett was asking him not to. Wiggle. “I didn’t mean I have to go to the bathroom. I just feel like I might dangle from the ceiling in ten minutes if I keep still.” He was already excited to be trying on the costumes he’d wear on the set of the first show that wasn’t at NYADA. Or an Off-Off Broadway production in a backalley mess of a theatre. Dosing himself with enough caffeine to kill a horse was unnecessary but habits.
pianokeysandbowties back up 