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.
pianokeysandbowties 