cooper.

          THE WESTERVILLE HOUSE HADN’T FELT LIKE HOME FOR YEARS.   the sunshine of los angeles had called cooper away as soon as he could. he never once regretted abandoning his father’s hopes that he would go to college. he never once regretted leaving ohio behind and never looking back. not until he’d had his mother crying down the phone telling him that his little brother had fallen victim to some disgusting attack. as strained as his relationship with blaine was – mostly completely oblivious on cooper’s side, admittedly – he never wanted to hear that his pesky little brother was hurt in any way. it was how he found himself home after filming a new cut away for his credit rating commercial – he would be lying if he didn’t use the emotion from his home situation as excellent fuel to channel someone with a truly awful credit score. his relationship with his family wasn’t excellent but it also wasn’t horrific. he loved his mother dearly and blaine had become less of an annoying wobbling and infuriating shadow that followed him around. but their father was an utter enigma to cooper. one moment, the man was happy and proud of him – but who wouldn’t be given his commercial success across the entire country? – and the next he was as cold hearted and disappointed as ever.

          typically, cooper would have never overstepped his boundaries, but considering he was making his own money and relied on his father for nothing? he’d given him quite the piece of his mind for even thinking about leaving while blaine had gone through something so traumatic. his blood had been boiling at how the man could just shrug off his youngest son like he meant very little, that him being hurt and attacked by pathetic individuals was somehow blaine’s fault. as he left the study, having gotten nowhere with the stubborn old man, he was still fuming. only upon seeing blaine’s face over the back of the couch did his expression soften to something more akin to fondness while he took a deep breath to let go of his frustration. pocketing that extreme anger for a later audition would come in handy and using it all up now on a fruitless mission was a ridiculous notion.

          ❝ me? i’m fine, squirt. i was playing bad cop in there, ❞ he joked, hopping over the arm of the couch to perch at blaine’s feet while fixing a warm smile on his face. ❝ gave the old man a piece of my mind about how his son is way more important than sitting in a bar and having business meetings. if he can’t see that, then he’s the one you should feel sorry for. ❞ reaching over, cooper lightly ruffled blaine’s hair – always cautious of the injuries his brother had sustained. ❝ i didn’t think you’d be awake. those painkillers? i heard they sell them as sleeping pills on the hollywood black market. ❞ changing the subject for cooper had never been a difficult task. he was a master of improvisation and making anything seem believable, especially after spending a few months twirling a quiznos sign like it read ‘entrance to heaven’ on it at the beginning of his los angeles stint. ❝ did mom go lay down? ❞ cooper asked after a moment of silence. he hadn’t thought of dear pam anderson when he’d went to town arguing with their old man. it probably did nothing for her nerves and cooper really did feel rather bad if she’d had to hear it. ❝ i guess that means we can bust out the old wii. see if you’re still terrible at mario kart, hm? ❞

      Worried eyes (one still shadowed by lovely shades of black, purple and green in a crescent shape underneath)  watched as Cooper approached the couch.  Through the fog of the medicine running through his veins, he hadn’t missed catching a glimpse of anger etched on his brother’s face.  Cooper’s eyes were too expressive for that.  Too blue and too bright not to miss when they were darker and angrier.  Since they were rarely like that.  As far as Blaine knew Cooper rarely got mad.  Unless he followed him around too much or refused to leave his things alone when they were younger.  Other than that?  Catching a tiny glimpse of Cooper infuriated?  Blaine couldn’t help but feel sorry for anyone on the receiving end of that stare.  His expression faltered from curious to a thoughtful pout hidden by the back of the sofa.  Then like magic, Cooper was smiling and Blaine made himself comfortable in the position he’d flopped in.  Just in time for his brother to land at his feet.

A drugged laugh made his cheek hurt but he couldn’t help it.  For some reason, Cooper airborne then knelt in front of him was enough comedic material to make him smile at least.  More importantly?  More agreeable not to argue that he didn’t look okay like a sober Blaine might have.  Instead, he nodded then pulled his shoulders up in a lazy shrug at the news of their father deciding he’d put off his clients long enough.  “Probably better he’s not here, Coop.  I got you and mom and that’s enough.  I stopped disappointed a long time ago,” that last part was a lie.  An obvious one at that.  Blaine’s smile fading to barely visible, the shift of his posture, and change in the tone of his voice were all dead giveaways. 

“They do?  M’good for now.  I think.  I’ve been sleeping way too much.”  Tugging the pillow he’d been hugging earlier back onto his lap, Blaine wrapped both arms around it and hugged it gently.  The feathery soft weight against the sorest spots offered support and relief until it got too bothersome and he tossed it aside.  Cracking another sheepish, cheeky grin as his curls were ruffled–Blaine reached out and rested his palm against his brother’s cheek studying him for a beat like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet (also thanking him with the gesture because words weren’t enough to show Cooper how much staying meant to him and how badly he needed him to just be here) before pulling his hand away and nodding.  “Yeah, she did.”  The heaviness felt like it was sucked out of the air by a massive vacuum with two words:  Mario Kart. “Terrible!  I’m only terrible cause you cheat,” huge eyes blazed with sudden accusation. “I’m gonna show you.  Also,” insert a breakneck change of direction yet again, “If it isn’t too much trouble?  Can you get more orange juice?  My mouth feels like a desert most of the time.”