( mssg » blaine | sent ) I hope you’re so ready for the couch too. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) I will get you banned at the Hallmark store, mark my words. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) No see, you did do shots. I’m pretty sure Santana didn’t dump the shots in your mouth, so it’s not Santana’s fault 100% ( mssg » blaine | sent ) 1000% dead serious. If I were a magic 8 ball you would be getting an answer like ‘Try again when you’re not in the dog house’ 🙂
( mssg » kurt | sent ) WAit! I haev to sleep on the couchr!?! ( mssg » kurt | sent ) She dirnt but I the couch?@ Really? ( mssg » kurt | sent ) im in the dog house. GREat.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) can I shake the magic 8 ball one more time for a possiblyt different anwer? the first one was horrible.
“Real quick of you, Anderson-of-a-bitch. I guess you have no way of knowing. Life sucks like that, have you not realized that by now? Again, real QUICK of you. No need to ask why. The only think you need to know is I’m gonna be out of here for a while. I’d like it if I had a friend around while I’m crashing at crappy motels, but frankly — I don’t trust you. Since you’ve moved in it’s all a big Kurt && Blaine pride parade. You do realize we haven’t hung out solo in weeks, if not over a month now, right? No, course you don’t. You’re to busy tending to the needs of tickle-me-elf-boy. I’m sick of it. So don’t bother, okay?”
“I’m sorry. What did you just call me? Really, Santana? Really? You don’t have to go. Please? Don’t go holing yourself up in shady hotels. This isn’t Lima. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? I know you think you’re a total badass and you are but–stay here. Where its safe and clean. Because God knows what you’re going to encounter in a roach motel in this town. Hold on. You don’t trust me? Because of Kurt and I being–well–us? I know we’ve been around each other a lot and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was hurting you. Can we go out? Get dinner. A drink or two?” Or six considering how this conversation was going? He might need that many. “Talk this over? Will you give me that chance?”
“No, ACTUALLY, it has a lot to do with you && Kurt. Someone steps on his little toe && you’re back to playing superhero in your weird cross of a football uniform && pajama outfit. Yet when I am feeling betrayed by someone I consider FAMILY, you don’t even bother checking how bad it really is. What if I said I’m finally moving out? Would you listen then, butter-scalp?”
“Weird cross of a–what are you talking about? Oh. Whatever. How am I supposed to know what’s deemed necessary for an intervention anymore? Or if I do step in? Whether or not my head is going to be bit off? But! Apparently now? Not stepping in gets me that too. So I’m in a lose-lose situation. Butter—ugh. Why are you moving out? You know it’s better if we all stay here together until we’re settled. What’s happening that is so terrible you’d want to leave?”
“The fact that you care more about your hair gel than picking a side just shows how non-existent your backbone is. What? Did you eat it or something? Turn all your insides to goop? You know what, that makes PERFECT sense. I mean, why else would you be so utterly disengaged to stand up for the person who is being unfairly JUDGED. Oh, unless that person is Kurt, right?”
“Hold on. This has nothing to do with Kurt or me. Just because I am taking the sidelines on this one doesn’t mean I’m spineless, Santana. Maybe I’m staying out of this because this is the fifth fight in a week between you and her. Walking on a floor made out of eggshells is exhausting. Who knows what will set either one of you off? No one. I’m not sure either of you do, too. I don’t even know what the two of you are fighting about this time.”
“If you side with her — I’m going to use your hair gel to start a house fire.”
“I’m not siding with either one of you. As far as I can tell? This has nothing to do with me and by that threat? I’d like it to remain that way for my own and my hair gel’s safety.”
( mssg » blaine | sent ) I really need to get you home… ( mssg » blaine | sent ) Those actually exist? Technically I can stop you, it’s called stealing the punch card. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) How about next time you take no shots and have no regrets. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) After tonight, you better.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) yerah! I’am so ready to be hoem with you ( mssg » kurt | sent ) That woudlkn’t dtop me honey I would just have to get more cards to get a free one!! ( mssg » kurt | sent ) no shots and no regrets but this is SAntanas fautl! ( mssg » kurt | sent ) hey kurt were you serious about nO making out? ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Not even a littel bit?
Santana just watched in amusement as Blaine tried to down the liquor straight. It was fairly obvious that being a Warbler didn’t come with too many drinking lessons. Where as with Puck for a friend, && the Cheerios as a team, Santana had plenty of practice. Hopefully the poor boy wouldn’t try to keep up with her. Then again nothing would be more amusing than a wasted Blaine Anderson trying to pretend he’s fully functioning. While he tried to speak, the female fought back laughter. The way he winced && choked between words from a simple two chugs, was nothing short of hilarious. “Of course. If you ever think I’m cheap, it’s because you’re looking at Rachel’s extensions in the bathroom. Not mine.” Her lips curled upwards in a confident grin as she took the bottle back. Warmth emanated from her chest as she took the two gulps down easily. The burn only lasted a moment, so she tried not to make as big of a deal out of it as Blaine did. Without hesitation, she handed the bottle back, watching him expectantly to try going on. “I’m a little worried. What if I want to light a candle? Do you think the insane amount of hair gel in your hair mixed with the alcohol in your system will make you EXTRA flammable? Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you rubbed one out tonight && became the next fashion nightmare of elm street.”
Blaine was a little too concentrated on not drooling from the fire in his mouth to really mask the lopsided grin that appeared when Santana went off on her comparison between cheap and Rachel’s hair extensions. Seriously? Where did she come up with this stuff? He watched her take the gulps like a pro and give no outward sign of the nasty taste. Impressive. But that meant she probably burned enough tastebuds off to achieve that level of pro and he’d gladly keep the ones he had that held him back. Taking back the bottle with a nod of thanks–Blaine stopped in his tracks when the Bag of Witty Insults was tossed in his direction. Aw. Ones like this? Were Santana’s way of saying I love you and you know what? The feeling was mutual. Not taking it to heart–Blaine shrugged and hovered the neck of the bottle by his lips so he could give her a lift of his brows. “Okay–Santana,” he hummed and gave her a cock-eyed smirk, “First? Did you really have to use the phrase rub one out?” He put quotation marks around that one with one hand. “Second? Then just don’t light a candle to be on the safe side. If I go down? I’m taking you with me. Human Torch style.” And down went two more gulps as those tastebuds he swore he was keeping earlier screamed in protest–just a little quieter this time.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) Biting, hot or cold? ( mssg » blaine | sent ) I mean, it’s not like I can help it. At least I’m not participating. It could be worse. I’ll be sure to get one started at home though. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) For sure? The last thing we need is Rachel or Sam walking in on us. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) Nope, you’re not allow to beat me there.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) Definitely warming up on that one. Getting there, gorgeous. Keep going?? ( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’m holding you to that promise. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) For sure. They’re gone. I could always put a Do Not Disturb sign on the front door. I wonder if that’ll work. Or I could lock it. Does anyone here actually carry a key? ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Too bad. You’re already beaten. Guess you’ll have to play catch up.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) …Nothing, nevermind, it was nothing. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) Blaine. You don’t have to get me a card. Besides, i’m pretty sure that you would literally have to have one printed out to have it that customized, especially the part about our names. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) What’s 4..? ( mssg » blaine | sent ) I love you too, I hope you know that. ( mssg » blaine | sent ) You have no idea how much I do 😛 But I always will.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) sitll soi so lost. I will never midn! ( mssg » kurt | sent ) You can’t dstop me! I have a frequent shiopper punch card at Hallmark. not Afraid to lose it! ( mssg » kurt | sent ) *use it ( mssg » kurt | sent ) 4 is how many shots it takes to where you onlyt taste regrett ( mssg » kurt | sent ) Aww. thank tyou Kurt I’ll alwaysp ut up with you too.
If only he could see his mess of a hairdo. As much as she wanted to fire off a few quick one liners regarding the undone masterpiece, the situation didn’t call for it. There was no reason other than her own fear of commitment && connection that would lead her to say something cruel. As tempting as it was to self destruct, it seemed Blaine calmed her nerves enough to push those thoughts aside. The option was there, she could lean towards her dark side and snap any moment. Just not yet. Right now she was sticking to the part of her that always got what she wanted. The part that excused the things that scared her most, letting the future rest unbalanced so she could have the present.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Blaine, or feeling close to people. It was just overwhelming when people looked out for her. Santana had seen too many people fall from greatness, too many hearts breaking from the hands of those whom they trusted. So to have love on her side, was what scared her the most. The bitch of their group prided herself in being independent, not giving a shit, always being on the heart breaker side to avoid being heart broken. A few times she’d slip, and her wicked ways would settle just long enough for her to share a moment of intimacy. A moment that showed the wicked witch had a heart. Deep brown hues flickered open to see her friend, so dangerously close by her own design. His question caught her off guard, striking a small panic to stir in her half asleep brain. Thankfully for the both of them, she was just comfortable && happy enough to let it slide. && She felt able to breathe again. “I don’t need to talk, wonder boy. Unless it’s about your full on muppet on meth hair.” She grinned at her joke, but curled her fingers over his chest to show some sort of care. Even if it came from that dark place, she didn’t mean to hurt him. She had to make sure he knew that.
Long fingers dared to card themselves into the dark strands of hair his nose previously was enjoying having a field day burying itself into. He waited–wondering if she was okay or if she needed to let something off her chest. Either way? They weren’t moving from this couch come hell or high water. Why? Because he was comfortable and this felt too good to give up yet. A break from all the head throbbing inducing studying was more than welcome and he planned on enjoying every second away from books and notes that he indulged himself in. Plus? He did have great company in that pause of work, work, work. So long as she was okay? Blaine was okay. If she wasn’t? Making sure she was wouldn’t be too much trouble. Truthfully, it’d be no trouble at all. “Okay, okay. Just thought I’d ask. Did you seriously just call me wonder boy. Cute, Santana. Real cute,” he kept his voice at a whisper because the quiet was nice and calm and perfect.
“I’ll let the muppet on meth hair comment slide just this once. Because I know–coming from you–that’s the best sort of compliment I can hope for. It probably does look like a wicked mess. I’d fix it but that requires moving and we already established that isn’t going to happen.” Humming at her fingers on his chest–Blaine gave her scalp a stroke of fingertips and piano key worn nails before untangling his fingers and covering the back of her hand. “You know? For swearing that you’re no good at any of this stuff? You’re a pretty amazing cuddler. You should give yourself more credit where it’s deserved. Comfy enough for you? I think I passed out on top of a blanket stuffed between me and the crease of the couch. If you want? I might be swayed into letting you try to get it out.” Maybe. Maybe he’d move. Chances were about fifty-fifty currently.
pianokeysandbowties back up 