She made a graceful motion with her hand over her forehead as she nodded forward, simulating a faint bow. “I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember and took up bass guitar when I was around eleven. Are you in the industry, or… d’you just have great taste?”
“Ah! That makes sense and it shows. But,” he held up a finger and gave her a jestful apology, “I beg your pardon. Where are my manners?” Such a ‘well-practiced’ bow deserved nothing less than one in return, right? Blaine stood out of his chair and mirrored her bow making sure to fan his fingers out in an elegant wave towards the seat beside his as he rose back up and grinned.
“I’d like to say I dabble in a bit of both? Care to join me? This place should start filling up around now and tables get sort of sparse. Plus? You have to tell me how you started playing here and how I’ve missed you if this isn’t your first time?”
Barry was a mess, not a horrible one, he wasn’t unhappy, depressed, no feeling that familiar twinge of guilt and remorse. He was a happy sort of mess. Carefree, and joyful. He’s laughing without a care, and when was the last time he managed to do that? Perhaps before Zoom. Since then it had been difficult, and he knew it caused his lover to worry. Yet here they were, together, with Barry being ridiculous and somehow managing to not fall over his own long limbs. Blaine was being the responsible one, mostly. “W-well, I’m being really nice, I could have said like a thousand kisses! And then you’ll never be able to stop kissing me,but yeah I guess you can pace yourself, I like your kisses.” he uttered with a slight huff. See? Super nice of him! Where he a little more coherent, he’d probably drag his boyfriend away from here, and kiss him. Not stop kissing him till they were back home, and even then more kisses would follow. Accompanied with more– fun actives. But he’s not that coherent right, running and being drunk would not go well for the speedster he knew that much. Despite the innocent kisses, his cheeks flushed more, no longer red from just the alcohol as he blushed. “Um…” he cleared his throat, they just felt intimate. “I think, I think they count– but I should return the favor.” And so he did, but he’s a little tricky too. Bringing Blaine’s hand to his lips, kissing the finger tips, till his smirked. Playfully licking at them, slipping his pointer finger into his mouth. While he might drunk, he was still Barry, and Barry could be a little mean.
Barry could be a carefree, sloppy happy mess as often as he liked. Blaine would never stand in the way of that. Seeing him so content on the dancefloor, the way he was acting like a mischievous jerk by luring him out here among the crowd just to steal some kisses and demand twenty more. Dark eyebrows were shoved together, lips curved into a playful smirk. “A thousand kisses better come with some chapstick. Cause that’s a lot. Even for me to pull off,” he hummed beaming at Barry justifying himself by saying his reason was him liking his kisses. How much more cute of a reason could the taller of the two give? The answer is: None. “They better count. All kisses should count towards a number that high.” Rationalizing the best he could, he waited to see if the other would go for his pitch but Barry threw his own curveball into the mix rather than let Blaine off the hook for his payment of smooches. As color rose up in Barry’s freckled ivory skin, Blaine’s suspicion lifted with it. “What are you up–ohhhh,” he felt his throat close around the rest of the question when his finger slipped past the warmth of Barry’s lips and into his mouth. Welp. Would you look at the dazed Mister Anderson, with his mouth gaped open and his gaze honed in on one sight in particular. A quiet sigh crackled it’s way between them and he nudged it in further. Just up to the second knuckle before his pulse tripled and he gently eased it back out again. Wild blinks and shaken laughter. Blaine took two steps back and smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in his suit coat. “Not fair. Not fair at all.” Wow. Someone needs to open a window..
It was impossible to hold back the building laughter that eventually spilled over, when Blaine returned with their drinks. It was his birthday, so Lip should have been the one buying drinks, but the opportunity was too good to miss out on. “Either that, or I take you to a restaurant and you can get a pie in the face and a really off key rendition of Happy Birthday in front of the entire restaurant.” Either or, Lip really wouldn’t have been happy. “Look, he’s checking you out.” Lip nodded, taking Blaine’s drink for good measure, and bringing it to his lips. “Looks like you might be getting dicked after all.” Or doing the dicking, Lip didn’t really know, but who didn’t deserve sex on their birthday, or at least a sloppy bathroom blowjob?
“But hey, before you ditch me for Romeo over there, I got you something. It’s not much but.” Lip reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, inside two tickets to Nothing But Thieves at Lincoln Hall in a week’s time. “Look, I know it’s no Adam Lambert, or Levine, or whoever it is you get hard for, but I think you’re gonna like them.” If Blaine didn’t know who they were, that was. And when music was as much of his life as it was, concerts seemed like a much better choice then something that would end up discarded in his closet in a few weeks. Shamelessly, he took another drink from Blaine’s, careful to observe the man behind the bar, though his focus undoubtedly shifted back to Blaine. “I had got you a box of donuts from Alliance but… I went for a shower and Frank decided to help himself. Tried to blame it on Liam before I pointed off the kid is yachting in the Tropics.” Which sounded a lot like an I owe you one. Jumping back to the envelope with a small nod, he finally spoke again, his tone rivaling the thumping music. “They have a song that kinda reminds me of you.”
“Yeah? I think I’ll take getting drunk with you any day before I get a pie thrown at me. Please warn me if that’s something you ever go through with? I want to make sure I’m not wearing a shirt I like.” A pie in the face? Depending on how out of key the singing was? Maybe the first option would have been the best part of their restaurant adventure if the bar wasn’t where they ended up. Blaine laughed at the mental image. Plus, it was a great way to shrug off having to humiliate himself with Lip’s drink of choice, how girly it made him sound, and the reaction the bartender gave him when he asked for two. “He is,” Blaine’s voice lifted as he turned his head and glanced at the bar. Sure enough, he got a very slimy wink and a lift of a chin that he thought might’ve been the bartender’s attempt at a ‘what’s up’ but came off as a cocky ‘hey baby’ in his head. Complete with the phantom smell of Axe body spray to top it off. The guy sounded like a walking rendition of it in his imagination. If he had any idea what Blaine was making him out to be with that look? His flirting might turn into swinging a punch.
“Yeah. No. I’m good. Don’t need any…,” his fingers formed air quotes around the word like he had to make sure the universe understood BLATANTLY clear wasn’t coming from him, “dick-ing from that guy.” His smile lingered, turning mystified when Lip mentioned he got him something. “I.. You didn’t have to–Levine–thank-you-very-much,” the clarification was added in so seamlessly Blaine didn’t miss a beat, “do that.” Looking into Lip’s eyes, he smiled and opened the envelope, thumbing up the tickets until he could read the band name. “That means you’re coming with me. Also. You have to show me their music beforehand. Thank you,” an arm fit itself around Lip’s shoulder right after he’d checked out the bartender again without Blaine noticing the second look back because he was too busy leaning in and.. Just like that! A smooch (platonic!) landed on Lip’s cheek before he released him. “I mean it! Thanks.” Oop. Then took his hand off Lip’s shoulder to lift his drink up. “To a birthday spent with a great friend and fruity drinks that, hopefully, don’t end up with a Lucky Charms repeat?”
Sugar Magnolia blossoms blooming Head’s all empty and I don’t care Saw my baby down by the river Knew she’d have to come up soon for air..
Blaine has been watching him for three nights now. Across the boardwalk where tourists flooded the streets to enjoy the warmth of one beautiful California March evening after another. He was always alone. Just like Blaine. Even surrounded by dozens, if not hundreds of people, they were always alone. Weren’t they? Because neither one of them belonged here. Though, Blaine had gotten used to pretending he did.
Was the other the same? Did he float through his small piece of eternity feeling like someone who traced the outside corners of living without really diving in? That’s what Blaine was trying to figure out by watching him and trying to learn everything he could within a comfortable, safe distance. Unsure if David sensed his presence and was pretending he didn’t while doing the same thing or not–Blaine came back every night since the first time he laid eyes on him. And felt something he hadn’t in years.
What that was? Mmm. Best not to mull over that for very long. One slender leg after leg lifted over the bottom wooden rung of the fence overlooking the wooden roller coaster. Then the other fit through it as well and Blaine sat, dangling feet swinging to the beat of a melody not quite touching the ground as he hooked his arms over the top and rested his chin on top of the wrist resting against the other. A brief glance towards a couple laughing loudly as Sugar Magnoliafaded into another song on the radio blasting from their rusty VW bus.
It was hard not to enjoy that wabble to Blaine’s voice or the sight of him arching his back at his touch like that. It only leads to thoughts of wondering if Blaine would be arching his back during more…pleasurable situations of his touch. It was rather honestly hard to leave Blaine’s side, the feeling of those hips against his own were almost too tempting for words. In a way, Remy enjoyed that delayed reaction, however, along with the building tension between them. It was…like a dance that every little secret look and burning touch fed into. “Exactly like that…” Remy confirmed at the others little arch of his back, as he sucked on the inside of his cheek a bit.
“Your hands?” Remy gave a little thought up as he tapped the pencil to his lips again before he was placing the drawing book on the ground in front of him and standing back up. Either as an excuse to touch the boy again, or it seemed easier than explaining it. Remy was back in the same position he’d just left, as he mirrored the boy’s stance, his body slipping up against his as his own slender hand moved down Blaine’s arm to brush over the others hand before linked fingers with the shorter boy.
He silently moved the others hand to the boys own hip, placing it there before he brushed up his hand back along the boy’s arm and along with his shoulder. “Now…place the other one…in your back pocket. Shoulder against the wall…” He murmured lightly. “Maybe slide your pants down a bit at the back…just a touch..” Remy added lightly, close to the others ear. “if you’re comfortable. You know, for whatever man you’re waiting for in your head.”
Long fingers fidgeted at his sides, thumbs grazed over knuckles or their tips dug against the seams of his pockets as Blaine tried to figure out where to put them or what to occupy them with before Remy had to get up or spend too much time directing him again. He didn’t want to seem this out of his element, but that’s exactly what he was. Not once has someone wanted to draw or paint him. What’s proper etiquette for being the subject of someone’s art? How long as it going to take before Remy realized he’d asked someone so beyond amateur status that it might’ve been a big mistake picking someone who should stick to music and stage to be a model.
Blaine gave himself and Remy a wary, sheepish grin as the other stood. Thank God, he was going to show him instead of giving him instructions to follow. Though that relief came at a price. Remy was close again and Blaine could feel their bodies brush together. Back teeth clenched together. An attempt to not lose his focus on the task at hand. Easier said than done when Remy’s caress down his arm made the hairs on his arm stand on end and their fingers were laced together perfectly.
Hand on his hip and his breath hitching in his throat, the back of Blaine’s head touched against the side of Remy’s shoulder as he felt his pulse quicken. His fingernails ran over his side before he balled up his hand and shoved it in his back pocket. Blaine’s version of a shoulder against the wall looked more like a drunken man using the corner for support. Who could blame him when a swoon made his head all swimmy? “I am. I promise,” his fist pushed the back of his tight chinos, his belt and how form fitting they were not really allowing them to budge barely an inch. Lips twitched into an embarrassed half smile. “Too tight. Sorry.”
Wasn’t that kinda the problem? For the good of Kurt, yeah. It made sense. He supported it. But the rest of it? It really freaking sucked. Sam had rallied in Kurt’s corner and supported him when the rest of New Directions tapped out, even if it didn’t go according to plan, and he’d always liked him but… Blaine getting involved made it all messy. They knew each other and letting on like they were just… Two dudes who went to the same school? Putting on a front to the world? Lying was exhausting, but it didn’t compare to how exhausting it was seeing the both of them together.
“Yeah, just when no one’s looking’.” Sam shrugged, though the defeat in his tone almost counteracted how harsh his words came out. It was hurt. It felt like he was playing a spy half the time, which in retrospect should have felt a lot cooler, but it really didn’t. James Bond just had to kick a lot of ass and hook up with a lot of girl’s with unfortunately slutty names, he didn’t have to worry about the emotional terrorism that came with it. Even if Sam should have been used to that by now considering his dating history.
“You know, this really sucks.” Sam finally admitted with a huff, eyes raising back to Blaine’s as his arms crossed against his chest, his back pressed against the cool brick of McKinley. Glee Club had let out an hour ago and he’d waited until Kurt and Blaine were done doing whatever lovesick duet they’d rented out the auditorium for. You know, for extra practice. Sam wasn’t sure that wasn’t code for emotional handjobs, or at the very least empty auditorium make outs.
“When we did this ‘For the good of Kurt’,” The air quotes came as his arms uncurled from his chest, a dramatic flare that quietly highlighted how frustrated he was with the situation, “I thought it was gonna be for the better. Helping people usually makes you feel better, but this?This doesn’t feel like helpin’ people. This feels like lying and the end of cancer movies and chick flicks when the one person dies and they do that stupid slow montage of all the happy moments. But you can’t be happy. Cause they’re dead.” The point was kind of getting lost in frustration. Sam sighed, shaking his head and pushing off the wall and past Blaine, “I just don’t know what the point of letting you in anymore is when it just hurts. It doesn’t feel like us.”
Keys in hand, the former Warbler cut through the back of the school towards the street he had to park on after missing any available space since he’d started his commute late. He was on a high from performing, face flush and a pep to his step that always followed after glee club practices with Kurt. Honestly, it was what he needed. The entire situation where he couldn’t quite meet someone’s eyes during the parts of the songs Mr. Schue had them singing next to one another was about as mentally exhausting as coming face to face with the reality this move was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he originally thought. But. He was trying to put his hesitation behind him. To move past the part where he woke up and immediately reached for the crimson and navy tie still hanging from the back of the chair in his room. Then felt a hollow ache in his belly when he realized bow ties were, once again, his go to accessory.
They were trying, too. Their secret was so much easier to keep when he was at Dalton and Sam was a distant presence always in the back of his mind and a town away but not near enough to have to see and be reminded of every day. Pretending they were strangers while, basically, living like they were didn’t come with the buckets of guilt he had to swallow every. single. day. now that he was at McKinley. Thinking what it was doing to Sam, feeling what it was doing to himself? Pretty soon something had to give. Or one of them was going to snap in half.
Blaine just hadn’t realized today might be that day. Maybe it’s because he was banking on himself being the one to finally break and say or do something he’d regret two seconds after he did the thing. Sam was always so patient. So kind. And from what was starting to become painfully obvious and simultaneously grate on Blaine’s nerves, so willing to help everyone else that he didn’t realize some people were close to leaving scuff marks on his back from where they wiped their feet on their way across it. Of the two of them who would be the one to unleash an outburst? Hopefully when it was just the two of them and not in front of the whole glee club including Kurt. He would have betted it was going to be himself. Hands down. Not..
Sam waiting for him after he’d walked Kurt to his car and kissed him goodbye caught Blaine off guard. Catching him standing against the wall directly in the path it was obvious Blaine would have to take from the auditorium to get to his car could only mean one thing. He was waiting for him. For a little over an hour. Blaine came to a halt, his keys rattled as he balled them up in a fist to steady himself. Two minutes after an awkward hello and Sam not answering his question on if he waited for him (obvious answers didn’t need out loud ones), Blaine said the only thing he could think of. Turns out? Probably the wrong thing..
By the time he was done listening, Blaine could have told you exactly which white rivets of his navy boat shoes had too many scuffs, which ones looked brand new, and how many cracks were in the pavement underneath them, too. But he managed to catch hold of Sam’s wrist before he could get too far away from him with a quick reach and a stubborn refusal to let go. “I’m not dead. I’m right here. That’s what I am trying to say. We don’t have to hide this much. I’m sorry. This is messed up. I don’t know how to fix it. I just..please, Sam? Wait..?”
“Hm, I don’t like leaving questions in the air.” Remy teased softly, even if it was just likely that Remy enjoyed the idea of those dirty thoughts in Blaine’s head. He was still very much a Smythe after all, and Blaine did seem to have a certain power over them. Remy’s bright eyes danced into Blaine’s they met his and Remy gave a little appreciative hum. “Hm, to you maybe.” To him it was a chance to draw Blaine’s gorgeous body, even partly.
Remy was already flipping through the pages of his sketchbook and by the time he flicked his eyes back up to Blaine, that sweater was off. There was a little run-up and down of Blaine’s body as he soaked in that bare chest. Though it was a little hard to tell if he was checking him out or trying to memorize every line and cut of Blaine’s chest. It was properly both. “Ah.” Remy finally pulled his eyes away from the shorter boy at the question before nodding over to the little ledge that leaned against one of the few windows in the loft.
“How about you lean up against that….At…” Remy simply walked over and gripped Blaine’s hips, his breath hot on the back of the boy’s neck before he moved Blaine over towards the window, and turned his body just slightly away from where Remy was planning on sitting. “Now…when I sit down, turn your head back at me, slightly over your shoulder. Like your…waiting for your lover to come home He’s been away for a while. No one touches you like he does… “ Remy whispered into the boy’s ear. “ You know? Shirt off, the arch of your back…those dark beautiful eyes. Just…gorgous in the afternoon sun. “ Remy mused before his hands gave Blaine’s hips one last squeeze before he moved back to settle on his spot on the ground, his pencil waiting against the paper.
Chewing on the inside of his lip as he watched Remy look him over, Blaine wondered what was going on in his mind. Did he like what he saw? Was he supposed to like it in a way other than a subject? Probably not. Or. Maybe? Okay, so he was officially winging this and overthinking any part of it was probably the worst thing he could do. Because he was clueless on what they were doing might mean to an artist. Especially when that artist had the last name Smythe. Tricky family to pin down, it seems.
Like brother, like brother. Just like the power he wielded over them? The Smythes seemed to have their own abilities when it came to being able to baffle him to the point of speechlessness. And to make him feel dizzy trying to keep up with their quicksilver tongues and uncanny adeptness with tying his into knots. Goosebumps erupted over his shoulders, down them. Then spread up from his hips and small of his back to meet somewhere in the middle of his spine when Remy touched him. The prickly feeling of them continued to spread up his throat making a stark contrast against the heat of Remy’s breath on his skin.
Blaine moved where he was guided, feet unsteady by the time he stopped. Turning his head enough that he could only see a sharp jawline, he nodded his understanding and paced his deep inhale when Remy began to whisper as to not show how he’d been without air the entire time Remy was instructing him. Dizzying Smythes, indeed. At some point, his eyes closed and he swore he could feel the imaginary hands of his pretend lover waiting for him in the dark. “Okay,” his voice shook. Remy’s squeeze made Blaine’s back arch just like he wanted. “Like this?” Remy was gone and Blaine swayed up onto his tip toes before falling back to his heels as he found him sitting on the floor. “What.. What should I do with my hands..?”
pianokeysandbowties 