Eyes practically glued to the flatscreen on opposite side of his bedroom, Kurt bit down on his bottom lip as the other Warbler’s words interrupted a pivotal scene in the night’s movie; the sound of gentle breaths hitting close to his own chest proving far too distracting for him to think about anything but Blaine, Blaine, Blaine as he desperately tried to keep up with the main characters’ dialogues.
They’d been going about this dance for a while. His heart frantically skipping a beat in his throat every time their hands so much touched while Blaine continued to remain nothing but complete and utterly unaware of his true feelings and intentions— serenading some other teenage boy at the mall on Valentine’s Day only the cherry on top to what Kurt could only really believe to be the disaster crush of a lifetime.
He hadn’t realized just how head over heels he had been in love with him.
Maybe being gay and the only out student at his school for so long, he had just raised the bar far too high for anyone to ever live up to his expectations. Watching Moulin Rouge on a Friday night, from the comfort of his bed, with a boy, after just having shared an impromptu home cooked dinner with his dad; Kurt didn’t think there could ever be anything beyond wishful thinking.
And yet, here he was. Cute as a button and definitely snuggling up against the soft cashmere silk fabric of his authentic Marc Jacobs sweater. Thank God his dad had requested for them to keep the door open.
“I— thank you for the compliment,” he finally breathed, his expression softening and blue green hues suddenly finding themselves shamelessly distracted as he couldn’t help but soon mirror the other’s smiles upon gazing down at hisbest friend still resting quietly against him.
Cosette didn’t expect any of them to come to her and ask her to come in. “Oh, I-I wouldn’t want to intrude on your fun. You guys seem like you’re having a great time, you have great voices. I-I wouldn’t want to be in the way.” The thing is that Cosette believed she was this bubble of sadness, that she’ll always be that. That she’ll bring sadness where ever she went, that she didn’t deserve to be happy because happiness didn’t exist in her world. She didn’t even recognize what they were singing, she was very cut off from the outside world, never listened to any musicals or any of that.
Blaine saw her hesitation and how unsure she was about coming in. Her reaction sparked an immediate response to erase any fear whatsoever she had about entering the choir room. No one who wants to be there should feel like they didn’t belong. She loved the music, right? That was reason alone she could stay and, at the very least, listen. “Intrude? You’re not going to do any such thing. No one intrudes on glee club.” He laughed quietly, correcting himself with a joke to ease her nerves. “Well, with a few exceptions to people who love to come in here and cause trouble because they don’t have anything better to do. Coach Sue being the first to come to mind.”
“Come on.” His leaned towards the inside of the room trying to beckon her to follow with a playful grin. “You can sit with me? I promise. If you liked what you heard in the hallway? You’ll love the way they sound in here..”
Hearing a child that small use a word like horrendous would have been impressive. If it wasn’t aimed directly at him. Blaine sat stunned, mouth partially open as he subconsciously closed the top button of his vest as if a mere inch worth of fabric being shut would somehow fix the problem. Hazel gaze shifted towards the parent sitting in the seat next to the little ball of sass. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A half-embarrassed laugh and a quick apology? Or a frustrated roll of his eyes and a ‘sorry, it’s close to naptime’ excuse? Either one of those would be perfectly acceptable. Kids will be kids.
Neither one happened..
His jaw dropped even further when the parent not only backed their child up, he reaffirmed the insult and had Blaine’s gaze dropping down to the plaid Perry Ellis print he was wearing. “I..um.” Burrowing his brows, he tried to regain some semblance of knowing the English language back and once the initial shock wore off? The fact he was offended settled in. He wasn’t, and never would be, the type to be mean to a child. However? Fine. You know what? More than one way to have a comeback. Turning his expression upside down, he looked back to the little one and smiled gently.
“Hi. My name is Blaine Anderson. I bet you didn’t know I work for a school close by. Guess what?” Digging into the leather satchel he carried, he withdrew a rather obnoxiously large chocolate bar with the Dalton Academy emblem on the front. One of those sorts of candy bars all schools sold. “We’re having a fundraiser for the Humane Society. It’s a place that helps lost and sad animals be safe until they can find families to love them. I’m supposed to be selling these but,” without asking he handed the bar to a pair of waiting tiny hands, “You can have one. Maybe if you like it? Daddy will buy another.” There was enough sugar and caffeine in that chocolate to have two kids hanging off the ceiling. Insult A Stranger-Junior was the sole owner. They melted quick, too. An added bonus.
That’s when he met Jesse’s gaze again. A sparkling sense of justice and amusement dancing in his. Next time, maybe someone would keep their insults to themselves. After they unattached their messy, chocolate faced and handed child from the rafters.
Artie crosses his arms, eyebrow raising in questioning.
“ Sick of the same old same old? As in, you DON’T want to do Katy Perry or Sondheim? Never thought I’d live to see the day. Look, I’m as much of a fan of the show as the next guy. But there’s a bigger issue.
—- It’s a hip hopera, and we both know the club is severely LACKING in that department. If Mercedes, Mike, and Santana were still around, I’d be less weary, but exactly WHO in our current line-up has the flow for this kinda thing?Sure, I’d do that number, but it’s also a FOUR PERSON number. Are we going to encourage SAM to rap? Because that feels like we’re doin’ a huge injustice. Like, to the world, Blaine.
”
A couple of mouthed attempts at words and, finally, Blaine finds them!
“FIRST!I will remind you that I haven’t suggested or SANG anything close to Katy or Sondheim in weeks. Hot ‘n Cold doesn’t count because my headphones were on and I didn’t think anyone was paying attention. I suggested Hamilton to avoid reverting back to what we usually do.
Okay, Sam might not be a rapper but we can try to teach him.” On second thought? “Or not.
” The mental image of Sam attempting to rap was not only oh god why did i put him through this-worthy but sickeningly adorable. Problem was? Adorable wasn’t going to win them Nationals. But can you picture that? Sam giving it his all trying to dance and rap and.. OKAY! Borderline daydreaming mid-bargain was a sure sign Blaine needed more coffee. Moving on! "..Maybe we could try seeing if any of the new kids can do it justice? We won’t know unless we invite them to try?”
SHIPPING INFO / answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.REPOST. Don’t reblog.
WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?: -deep breath- Klaine. Not even sorry. They are my original OTP for Glee and they mean a lot to me. 🙂 Second runner up is Seblaine!
WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?: Pretty much anything you throw at me. I love slow-burn ships that start out as enemies or friends. I adore writing ships that feel real with flaws (deep or surface!) and obstacles to overcome. Angst, fluff and anywhere in between. Quiet nights talking between characters for character and ship growth. Whatever me and my ship partner think of, I’m always going to be game.
HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: I don’t really have an uncomfortable zone as long as everyone is over 18. For sake of timelines in some canon and original plots..I’m okay with the person being 18 and Blaine being 17. Example: When Kurt turns 18 in season 3 and Blaine is still 17. Thanks for screwing up Blaine’s age Ryan Murphy.
ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?: Yes. I like to plot out ships and have a general sense of what my partner expects. I think communication is key so we’re on the same page. But! I love romance and shipping. If you approach me or it develops over time between our characters as we write? I’m 100% going to be down 99% of the time!
HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?: Depends on the situation and what’s going on. Usually as soon as they start undressing. Or there’s mentions of anything going on that’s sexual in nature besides kissing and making out. I always tag, probably prematurely sometimes, but I like to be safe. I, also, have a blog that I usually switch my nsfw posts over to once they get really going. That way anyone on mobile who can’t blacklist doesn’t have to see nsfw content in a compromising spot.
WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?: Oh man. I’d rather not list them all because it’s late and I don’t want to short anyone because I’m tired. I enjoy every ship I have and they’re important to me. So are their muns. If you are searching for a ship partner and need recommendations, shoot me a message and I’ll introduce you to amazing people!
DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?: Depends? Yes and no. Starting out of the gate as mutuals, I’d prefer we at least chat about our expectations and headcanons about the ship. I find those sorts of partnerships make the writing last and grow easier. But if we’ve been writing and our characters naturally progress that way, I’m probably going with the flow.
HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?: Tons! But I’m open to platonic, family, enemies and all else. I don’t need romance in a plot to love it as much as I do whenever there is. I’m open to canons/ocs/crossovers of any sort of ship. I am a dork. Let me love you and your muse.
ARE YOU MULTI-SHIP?: Yes and no. There is a limit of the type of ships I’ll write with a canon character portrayed by multiple people. And that depends on the ship. I know it can be confusing reading it here. Just message me. LOL
ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?: I have no idea what this question means. I guess somewhere in between and it depends on the ship and if my partner is equally as into it as I am.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?: Klaine. They’re my boys, okay? #stillridingthenotsorrybus
FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?: I’m gonna take this as we currently don’t know each other. Just pop in my messages or tag me in an idea you really want to do and I’ll message you. Chances are, if we get along, I’m not going to say no. Unless it’s about an exclusive ship, I have a couple of and they’re listed in my rules. Either way, message me and let’s talk. We can always work something out if we really click!
Time to admit defeat. Sleep just wasn’t going to happen. Blaine ran his fingers through a disheveled mop of curls that were left reshaping themselves into their disarrayed state after his shower hours ago as he walked, light as possible, down the hallway towards the kitchen. He poked at Kurt the first time he heard about Finn’s warm milk.. Lesson learned. It didn’t do the drink every time he struggled with falling asleep but _with any luck _tonight would be one of the times it did.
Standing over the stove with a pot in his hand–Blaine turned as he heard Cooper’s voice cringing when he realized he woke him up. “Hey, Coop. I was trying to be quiet,” he smiled guiltily as he sat the pot on the stove and went to the fridge to grab out the milk. “I couldn’t sleep. Every time I tried, my head started spinning. There’s so much riding on winning tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous,” not missing a beat he went back to the stove and turned a burner on, “I was thinking that, maybe, I could find the confidence I keep telling people to have at the bottom of a warm cup of milk. If not? Potentially sleeping might be a good trade.” Catching himself, he pressed his lips together and bowed his head–deflating in a deep sigh. “Sorry.. Rambling. Would you like some?”
im on the bus and my 2-year-old won’t stop crying, except you just smiled at them and they did
i asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again
you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby
we are friends and my child’s first word was your name and im jealous but also kind of endeared
you’ve been sleeping at mine because your house is being renovated and we aren’t even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh, “i’ll go” i feel like we might as well be married
we’ve been on a few dates and my child just asked us when we are getting married
our children are in the same class and we both hate their teacher, eventually the parents’ evenings are just us competing who can call out snarkier comments
we are the only two parents who agreed to attend the school trip (bonus: “so i guess we share this hotel room?”)
our children are best friends….yeah
“i’m so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt- actually nevermind i agree, that shirt is horrendous”
you crouched down to coo at my baby but i forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is to play with people’s hair and now they won’t let go of you
Elliott smiled right back at Blaine, looking down at him and entwining their fingers. He just felt so lucky right now, to have Blaine in his life and like this – it was…well, it was just perfect.
“I…Yeah, I suppose.” Elliott was clearly still struggling with accepting that idea, he hated how similar the feeling was to being that closeted teen, or that boyfriend people were disappointing to say they were dating, or that guy people laughed at, or – NO.
Elliott took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before his thoughts got out of hand, pressing his cheek against the top of Blaine’s head for a moment, grounding himself.
“Yeah. Yeah, we do.”
“Yeah..” Dragging the tips of his fingers back and forth over the back of Elliott’s hand that he held, Blaine smiled and let a soft of calm quiet settle between them. It was a nice break from the instant worry that the kiss they shared earlier seemed to throw Elliott into.
He didn’t mean for something that was supposed to feel good, something that just happened because they’d been lured into one another, to turn into a pathway to fret over every detail of the future.
Blaine spent years thinking about the FUTURE. When so much of it went wrong so fast that he was still trying to get the last of the ache from whiplash to go away. All he wanted to do was think about the now. As strange as it felt for him after so long of not, this–THIS was nice.
Closing his eyes as he felt Elliott’s cheek against the top of his head, his caress disappeared only to dance along blindly along Elliott’s neck letting that silence linger until he interrupted it softly, “So. How about dinner in? I can order food and we can watch mind numbing movies?”
❝ It’s definitely pretty exclusive.” Kurt admitted, somewhat amused by the Warbler’s apparently still going fascination with their resident booth yet also partially glad for the additional distraction as he absentmindedly reached for one of the breadsticks now standing at the edge of their table. “Not that I’m about to let you in on all of our secrets. Even if I guess that would ultimately make up for all that shameless spying up on The Warblers.” Almost feeling guilty about his former actions, he threw Blaine an apologetic smile before allowing the waitress to take up the rest of their order.
“I probably shouldn’t be so surprised,” he continued, his eyes briefly left to linger on the red and blue emblem of Blaine’s Warbler uniform before furthering the conversation. “I mean, you do kind of go to an all private school.” The more they discussed Blaine’s experiences at Dalton, the more envious he got about being forced to deal with McKinley in comparison.
Sure, being a part of his high school glee club made at least some of his dreaded school hours at least somewhat worth while and semi-tolerable, but once those crucial moments of the day inevitably ended, he really preferred to spend its final remaining hours mostly in solitude; occasionally taking on the additional administrative shift at Hummel Tire & Lube and most definitely forever counting down the days until his eventual graduation as he tried not too bother his friends with any of his high school problems.
“I guess I kind of prefer to stay in,” Kurt finally answered a little more quiet, almost too embarrassed to even admit that this was what his life had come to— hiding out in the comforts of his own home and bedroom until high school had finally blown over.
After watching the waitress walk off with their orders–Blaine turned his attention back to Kurt while taking a sip from his straw. He swallowed the drink down and shrugged. “It used to be something my whole family did. We don’t do it that often anymore,” not after Cooper left but he wasn’t going to bring up his brother or lack of a family life once the eldest Anderson left the nest and it was only him and his parents (well..sometimes his parents). The topic really didn’t have any room in the conversation. And it wasn’t important enough to bring up. Not exactly. “I still love it, though, so I sort of took over the boat as mine when it gets warmer.”
Another thoughtful wrinkle appeared between his brows noticing Kurt’s voice drop as he said he prefered solitude and staying home. Blaine knew that look. Knew why it was there. There was a time when he mirrored it when no one was looking. Before Dalton. They both covered it up, too. Just like Kurt, he only had one person who saw how deep that forced seclusion felt. He countered it by trying to exude the energy that it didn’t bother him. No matter how much it did.
Frankly, the efforts were exhausting. Blaine’s end from the loneliness came abruptly and not of his own choosing. Kurt looked beyond the point he was before his violent end at Central Westerville. Blaine wanted to FIX IT. Stop it from happening. See Kurt happy. All of it. His happiness was worth fighting for. In turn, maybe that reflection of himself might be healed from what lingered inside of the flesh and bones version in his quieter moments.
“Well,” he spoke softly and slid one hand across the table to gently touch Kurt’s wrist, bending closer naturally as he squeezed gently. “That’s just not going to do anymore. Look. You’re out with me and I think that’s progress. We should stay out tonight. Onlyif it’s taking a walk. What do you think? Until we find something to do. I’ve got the time if you have it.”
❝ They ALL look like someone. It’s a part of being the undead. ❞
She’s grown too used to the sight of CORPSES lying around by now. They aren’t human in her eyes anymore, and haven’t been since Heaven knows how long. Has managed to detach herself of emotion when it comes to looking at them because what else is she supposed to do ? She’s a regular FIGHTER; goes out every week or two with her team to pick through the d e b r i s and decaying buildings to find something useful, and bringing something as feeble as FEELINGS into it is … messy.
Of course, Quinn u s e d to care. Remembers the FIRST creature she had killed ——— the sound of its skull caving in and the feeling of KNOWING that it had once been properly, fully alive. Once upon a time, it too, had breathed. It had loved and cared for others, and she’d killed it with an old bat she’d found in someone’s basement. Had to be consoled for at least an hour before she could keep going, and that was only because they were SURE they were being followed. Then, when the whole thing with Finn had happened, she’d learned to keep empathy out of it. Caring wasn’t worth the pain.
❝ Come on, we’ll leave through the back exit. There could be something we NEED in the kitchen, and we don’t want to miss that, ❞ she instructs with the words and mind of a calculated leader. ❝ You take up the front, and I’ll take up the back and make sure that that THING’S definitely dead. Just keep walking, okay ? I’m right behind you.
❞
“She looks like my mom.. I don’t even know if she made it or not..”
Blaine walks as he’s told without giving any sort of verbal confirmation that he understood what she was telling him. Moving was more than enough. Eyes glued to the personthing on the floor until he had to step around to continue on. His blood ran cold, fingers that weren’t holding the grip of his gun with a white knuckled tightness balled into a fist at his side.
“I’m sorry. I’m good now. Promise.”
Quinn’s detachment was something someone like him who lacked it envied. The world would be so much easier to take if he could look at it as all a means to an end that didn’t matter what route you took through a sea of bodies and death as long as he came out on the other side okay. Maybe someday. He was trying. Just wasn’t there yet. Steps that felt ten times heavier than any he’s ever taken carry him towards the back. Most important, the kitchen.
“Let’s just get what we need and get out of here,” he squints stopping by the next wall and holding his breath as he steps far enough to glance around it. Noise, repetitive and quick that only he seems to be able to hear. A rapid gush of an echoing wet in his eardrums, heart pounding and blood rushing fast. CLEAR. “I think that might’ve been the only one..” Oh God, he hoped so.. A quick, sharp glance over his shoulder checked to see if she was there. Of course she was. Quinn was a person he trusted beyond trust. That’s why he’s here with her, after all. “Was it dead?” Please tell me it was dead.
pianokeysandbowties 