❝Oh, I completely expect you to cut your last class.❞ he grins in a teasing but mostly true manor, leaning back smoothly in his theater seat even though the way Blaine was standing right above him was making his heart race a little bit. Anytime he was around Blaine he could feel his soul flutter, but Sebastian was skilled in keeping his cool on the outside. Plus? He’d never even admit to himself that he was totally heart eyes at Blaine Anderson and it wasn’t just a sexual attraction. The only way you could really tell with his body language in times like this was the way his eyes sparkled with admiration. Of course Sebastian would take up the offer of ditching this lame auditorium and even though he’d agree to Blaine buying coffee– Seb would end up paying once they get there. Just the way he was. Sebastian grins at the blush that is obvious on the other’s cheeks.
❝Let’s get out of here then. The boyfriend won’t come after me with pitchforks and torches if I steal you away, will he? My car goes super fast.❞
“Oh yeah?”Blaine strikes a playfully defiant pout. “You expect me to cut my last class, huh? You know? It is one of my favorite ones. So you’re lucky I offered.” Grinning–Blaine nudges the edge of Sebastian’s elbow with the side of his shoe. Teasing him back was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. Although Sebastian was proving to be a challenge to keep up with. No worries. Only gave him a reason to improve his bantering skills. Or if Sebastian played fair and didn’t pull out the big guns with saying something that usually sent him into a tongue tied mess? That’d be swell too. Though Blaine figured that Sebastian was never going to lose that ability. He seemed to have honed it before they ever met. Another layer of intrigue that pulled Blaine in. Blinking a thoughtful, fascinated spark in his eyes away—he lets his foot fall to the floor so he can stand from his perch. “N-no. I’ll send him a text. Let him know we can catch up for rehearsing later. He’ll be fine. No pitchforks and torches probably.” Or there might be. “My advice–? Have your keys at the ready? What? I’m kidding!”
Tina laughed at Blaine’s expression because she was sure he thought that she wouldn’t say yes to his idea. Of course, she wasn’t sure that they would be able to pull it off but this is their senior year and they need to do something big to celebrate that. She could admit to herself, that she was glad that Rachel graduated last year because the woman would have killed them had they tried to pull this on her watch. “Are you sure they’re the best ones to go to about this? You know, one of them might spill to Marley then she’d probably tell Mr. Schue.” Plus, Carole was here and Tina didn’t want to upset the woman anymore than she already has been. “Going to the store wouldn’t take hours though, Blaine. Our excuse needs to be better than that. Though, I’m sure Mr. Schue would really care all that much.” Their teacher didn’t seem to care as much as he did last year and she knew it was down to certain people graduating. Pushing that thought away, she concentrated on their mission to get to Disneyland. “It sounds like fun, so let’s do it. Of course there will have to be the obligatory group photo with the mouse ears. What did Sam say about this plan?”
“Okay. Maybe they’re not the greatest to trust. Maybe I’ll just ask Burt. You know? He might go for it. Or maybe he’ll want to come along,” he bit his lip trying to think about what Kurt would say if he found out they dragged Burt Hummel onto as many rides as they could in the span of half a day at Disney. Was it worth the potential trouble he’d get in when the glue was still drying on the repairs their shattered ‘friendship’? Mental Note: Do not let Burt get on the ones that Kurt probably would say no to. “You noticed, too, huh?” Will Schuester was never on Blaine’s top five list of amazing teachers. The ones at Dalton set too high of a bar for someone who ran glee club emotionally first before putting his students above anything else. Then there were times he was the exact opposite and cared so much that his potential shined through and Blaine liked the guy. Just lately? With how checked out he was? Tina wasn’t the only one to chalk it up to certain people graduating. “Well.. Anyway. We can have all the mouse ear photos you want,” he grinned and slipped his arm around her waist then gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sam loves the idea. He helped it become more of a reality than just a pipe dream. Looks like the three of us are going to Disneyland.”
“Okay, I gotta ask, did you guys have– like, a whole alter-ego figured out?” For all he knew, Cisco might be having some competition when it came to coming up with the best names. “Name, outfit, catchphrases, all that jazz…?” You would have thought he was actually making research, taking advantage of the situation to inspire some catchphrases of his own, seeing as his very own name and outfit were already taken care of and unlikely to be changed to anything else. But seeing how much Blaine seemed to like to be able to discuss that particular stage of his high school life, everything regarding the Flash was pushed aside and replaced by a genuine curiosity, not to mention a desire to see just how many more of that smile he could get out of him, which needless to say would be a reward on its own. “I– Yeah.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I kinda… fell earlier, so.” And tripping and falling at the speed he was going meant rolling on the wet pavement for a block or two, which probably explained why he looked like he had just taken a swim with his clothes on. At least his phone had gone by miraculously unharmed. “I thought I could just run home and I wouldn’t need my umbrella, but I was wrong. When I got back up, I took it out and everything but it was kinda late by then.” He crossed his arms over his chest, partly to provide himself with the warmth his soaked clothes were absorbing right out of him, mostly because he was slowly beginning to shrink as much as his standing position allowed out of mere embarrassment. “Oh? Well– No, it’s… It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine,” he assured as he shook his head no, for something about agreeing to wear the clothes of a guy he had never even met, just like that and without said guy’s explicit consent -even though Blaine was second-handedly offering it himself, in a way- did not sound right to his own personal moral code. Then again, neither did leaving behind a puddle after having been standing on the same spot for over a few seconds. Which he currently was, he realized after glancing down at his own feet. “Uh… I mean, only if it’s not too much trouble.”
“We did. All of it,” Barry’s interest in his whole ‘superhero past’ made a stroke of nostalgia fill Blaine with an excitement that soon had him forgetting that the storm was worsening outside. A loud crack of thunder that shook the windows in their frames was the only thing to make him pause, glance towards the ceiling and blow out a breath. “Impressive,” he whispers before continuing on. “You should’ve seen mine. It took me weeks to make. Blue and black and very befitting for the name Nightbird,” he leaned in close with a wistful grin like he was sharing a secret no one was allowed to know. “I even had a symbol. Because–as you know–all superheros need a good symbol. Part of the gig. Right,” he asked leading him through the long hallway towards the set of stairs that abruptly curved after a small landing and continued to the second floor. “Looks like your plan on running home didn’t quite work out for you. Sorry about that.” Once at the top of them–Blaine gave him a smile and nodded his head down the hall gesturing for him to follow. “You don’t have much luck with storms. Do you? First holed up in a bookstore with me all night and now practically swallowed by mud puddles. Considering the day you’ve had? Getting you some clean, comfortable clothes is hardly what I’d call trouble.” The second door was open to a bedroom lit by an antique desk lamp that was left on. A flick of a switch lit the room in a myriad of other colors spreading out from the ceiling where a stained glass sconce came to life. “The laundry is downstairs by the kitchen. Go ahead and bring your things with you and we’ll toss them in.” A brief digging through a dark wooden dresser unearthed Cooper’s pants and one of his brother’s comfortably worn in black t-shirts. Cooper never seemed to run out of black, black and more black. They’d work. Tossing them on a chair sitting by the window–he stepped past Barry and glanced back up. “I’ll meet you down there. Get us some tea going after I find us candles in case this thing gets worse. If you need anything? Let me know.” And with that? Blaine made his way towards the door to let the poor man get out of his sopping wet clothes.
❝Mm.. Blaine.❞ he whispered in a moan as he felt the tickle of his fiance’s lips against him all while he remained to know there was a stiffness in his pants that couldn’t be ignored now that it had been started in the first place. That one little kiss through clothes was enough to assure Seb that he couldn’t ignore what was happening down there. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Although the horror film was still playing, his attention had been turned completely to something else as fingers run through Blaine’s thick curls to grab lightly at a handful of hair. A heat began to shiver through his inner thighs as he began to wonder if this was all Blaine’s sneaky escape plan out of watching Halloween in the first place. Did Sebastian care at all? No. Now he just needed to have more, he would get more. The eerie music playing in the background almost perhaps intensified it for a reason. Hips push up just a little in a silent question of if he could truly have what he craved. ❝No stopping, baby. I need your mouth on me.❞ The other hand that wasn’t stroking Blaine’s hair shifted to grab his fiance’s hand and guide it to feel his erection through his jeans.
Sebastian’s voice tugs a groan from the pit of Blaine’s stomach as he squirms in closer pressing another series of soft kisses against the soft fabric of his fiance’s shirt. Noticing how Sebastian’s stomach caves as a mere peck through cotton sucks the breath out of him–Blaine can’t stop the devilish grin he hides by tipping his nose to touch where his kisses were peppered. He might not’ve started this as a diversion tactic to anyone other than himself. But he’d be hard pressed–no pun intended–to say he didn’t like where this was going. Much better than the blood bath going on behind them that he’d rather not think about. Not that his brain has a chance to focus on anything else as Sebastian takes a handful of his hair and pushes his hips up at the same time. “Sebastian,” he breathes over the small sliver of skin now revealed above his belt. His tongue teases along the pale line not lifting the hem or making any movement to bare more. If Sebastian is going to torture him? Blaine can and will torture back. “You do?” His eyes close as his hand is taken and guided to where Sebastian needs it most. Feeling how hard he is against his palm, thick lashes flutter as his eyes roll back behind his eyelids and his fingers curl down, squeezing him softly but not moving. “Then show me.”
Connor’s grin remained on his lips – not that he was able to stop smiling towards the sight of the famous Blaine Anderson before him. He had heard so much about him. That he could sing like a dream, that he had moves that made everyone – men & women alike – fawn all over him. Quite the legion of fans he had. And Connor was a curious individual that needed to evaluate things with his own eyes rather than taking someone else’s opinion about the said person. His taste was far greater than anyone else around that boarding school – proof of that was how hideous those uniforms were, and he simply had to check for himself who this Blaine guy was. It would seem that the reports about him being talented weren’t just comments coming from perpetually horny teenagers.
Blaine was actually quite attractive. Big brown eyes, dark hair that matched his own… flustered pink cheeks and a smile to die for. And that ass? That ass was probably the material that legends were made of. Perfect and perky and Connor couldn’t help but to wonder how tight it would be. But then again, he thought about sex almost all day. It was hard not to when there was so many cute guys around for him to snatch and makeout with. The only problem he could see with Blaine was… his height. He was cute and adorable and he freaking resembled a damn pug with those big, pleading brown eyes.
How cute was that?
Connor cut the distance between them with a couple of steps and shamelessly – he had no idea what the word shame meant – took Blaine’s measures with his eyes in a way that almost revealed that he was undressing him in his mind. Maybe he had to give the rumours some credit. “I don’t know. Can you help me? I have a hard problem and I might require someone’s assistance to take care of it. I mean – if you think you possess the necessary skills to aid me, R2D2.”
“Sure. No forgiveness required but sure.”
Curiousness was quickly turning into something else the longer Blaine watched Connor’s expression and never–not even for a second–saw that grin falter. Self-consciousness began to creep in instead. Not to an apprehensive level by any means. Dalton was a safe place. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why he was beginning to feel like Connor had him under a magnifying glass and depending on what he discovered about him–or thought he did? The glass would either be lowered so Connor could see more. Or turned at the precise angle to catch enough sunlight and burn him to a crisp.
Touching the tips of his fingers to the polished black lip of the piano’s edge–Blaine stood his ground in spite of the growing sense of whatever this feeling growing inside of him was. Confusion? More than that. Fear? No–not really. But his heart was beating faster as he watched Connor come closer. His stomach felt like it shifted up several inches before plummeting down to the soles of his shoes and bounced back up.
Who was this guy? And what did he want?
Connor answered his question with a question. How lucky was he?
That’s when he realized what it was. No one ever looked at him the way he was being looked at right now. And he had no clue how to react to it other than stand his ground and not break eye contact. His jaw tightened and his head tilted–gaze darting back and forth questioningly over Connor’s. The piano’s reflection dulled under the heat coming from Blaine’s palm. Thank God, the other couldn’t see it. Still, no budge whatsoever from the Warbler. “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on what problem it is? If you’re willing to answer that question for real this time. You can call me Blaine by the way. And you are?”
For someone who was still iffy about revealing the truth, Barry was rather eager to get a call from Blaine. He’s not sure what it is; It’s unlikely his morals are giving him a need to correct the situation, it’s not like he can be sure that they were ever really friends before when Blaine essentially didn’t know Barry at all. And wasn’t that just a sad truth.
When the call does come, Barry springs to his feet to get into another room, throwing a couch pillow at Hartley as soon as the other’s mouth opens with assumably another wisecrack about his high school sweetheart come back from the past– insert overdramatic sigh here. “Hey.” Barry answers.
Fingers nervous plucked at the hem of his cardigan as he listened to the ringing tone. –Please don’t let the voicemail pick up.– He was too excited to keep waiting for a chance to see Sebastian again. The days went by far too slow between their run in and him having enough free time to devote a good chunk of his evening to his old friend. Now that he had it? Blaine was brimming with eagerness and hoped that he wasn’t interrupting like he did the first night they saw one another.
His feet touched down onto the floor from the coffeetable they were resting on when Sebastian’s voice greeted him on the other end of the line. “Hey.” An ear to ear grin could be heard in Blaine’s voice. Though he was thankful that the warmth on his cheeks–and the color he knew it had to brush over his skin–couldn’t be seen. “So about that meet up? Would tonight be good? I’ve got an idea.”
Elliott sniffed and gave a slight little nod. He knew he looked like a mess, eyeliner no doubt running down his face and the start of a snotty nose making itself present. That made actually looking at Blaine much harder, knowing he was so close and could see how much like a wreck Elliott looked with the streaks of black cutting away his foundation and staining skin.
Elliott adjusted how he was sat slightly, arms loosening around Blaine as he became extremely aware that he was still in lacy underwear and a shirt, with one of his best friends far too close inside his legs to really be appropriate. Well shit. If it was Kurt or Dani (hell, Dani had been around him like this before and that hadn’t been very awkward.) he wouldn’t mind so much, but for some reason the fact that it was Blaine was something Elliott was extremely conscious about. He wasn’t sure why, and he quickly settled that it must be because Blaine was attractive and had such a nice body. That was it, surely. “I…alright. Thank you Blaine.” The thank you was barely audible, but it was there as Elliott slowly retracted his hands to hold on to the counter instead.
Once Elliott loosened the hold on him–Blaine leaned back in his arms enough that he could meet his eyes and catch his attention. There was no way they were leaving this conversation with Elliott doubting himself in any way, shape, or form. The man was too beautiful and too kind for that ache. He nodded back. A checks and balances sort of thing. Just to make sure Elliott meant the gesture rather than dished him out some wordless agreement because he didn’t truly believe what he was saying.
You’d think that Blaine completely forgot–he did–that he was between Elliott’s legs for the hug and that Elliott was sitting there in a shirt and panties by the way he seemed confused when Elliott pulled back and held onto the counter. An effective way to make sure that Blaine stepped back and gave them a more respectable distance without realizing it was necessary. Elliott was upset. Blaine wanted to fix it. That was all that mattered and where his attention was sunk. “You’re welcome, Elliott.” Elliott’s voice tugged at his heartstrings at the weakness inside it. Water burst from the faucet with a flick of Blaine’s wrist so he could wet a papertowel that a lean to the side let him reach. Once he was sure it wasn’t ice cold–Blaine leaned back and reached his free hand up to curl around Elliott’s chin to pull him in. “C’mere and I’m not taking no for an answer. I can come up there.”
Patrick chuckled and gave his shoulder a friendly pat. “It’s perfectly fine. You can present anything and everything you see fit. There’s still a lot I haven’t seen thanks to getting my apartment in order. I only wish I felt like a local.” He gave an excited grin and headed towards the crosswalk. He hadn’t discovered his new local coffee shop yet, and he kind of hoped it would be a winner. Soon, they were inside, the warm smell of coffee instantly making Patrick feel at home. He smiled at Blaine. “Why don’t you go find us a seat? What would you like? It’s on me.”
“You’ll get there. Make sure to save yourself time to get out and explore. Otherwise? If the only view you’re getting is from your dashboard on the way to work every day? You’re really missing out on all but the frustration of New York City traffic. Which,” he shrugged with a hapless grin aimed at the street, “I guess is part of the becoming a local experience.” As soon as the door of the shop closed behind him and the scent of coffee and the wood polish on the floors and tables hit him? Blaine breathed it in deep and returned Patrick’s smile. “If they bottled this smell? I’d buy whatever it’s in by the dozens.” Nearly interrupting Patrick’s offer–a crease formed between Blaine’s brows that said he was about to before he stopped himself and figured it’d be rude to turn him down since they were strangers getting to know one another. Not quite at the level of friends to banter back and forth about who was going to pay. But. He would get the next round. If there was one. “A medium drip would be great. The bigger the cup? The better. Thank you. I’ll,” he thumbed over his shoulder, “go find us a seat by the windows while there’s some still open. Deal?” Oh. That’s what Patrick told him to do. Right! Anyway!
He saw that cringe. Oh, he knew how bad those pictures were, but he was basically desensitized from it. There were some cases that would get to him still, things that made him wonder why people do these type of things to each other. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to know what I was working on,” he lightly teased. Arms settling around Blaine’s waist, pulling him closer as he arched a brow. “You went to three different high schools? How come?” There’s got to be a story behind that.
“Remind me to never wonder that again,” he crinkled his nose as he fit his back more firmly against Barry’s chest enjoying how close they were. “I’ll take stories you tell me and try to leave the visuals to you. I don’t know how you take seeing that. I admire you for being able to.” Ah, he knew the question would come. Blaine gently rested both of his hands over Barry’s arm and nuzzled into his neck. “Okay. Well. My first one was supposedly a great public school. The best in Westerville. I think it was? Bottom line–it was till Ohio and me being me?” He held his breath and squirmed around enough that he could tilt his head back and peek up at Barry only seeing his jaw and cheek from the angle but it was enough. Not wanting to ruin Barry’s mood because of his past–he searched that pale, freckled skin he could see before giving possibly one of the briefest, huh? explanations of why he transferred schools the first time. Not on purpose. It just came out that way. “Didn’t work out there the way everyone else would’ve liked to pretend it did.”
It hadn’t been long that Sebastian obtained the job of working for the nationally known Blaine Anderson, star of the stage. Sebastian never even thought working as a damn personal assistant would be something he would ever end up doing. Being somewhere in the showbiz scene for sure, but this was a different turn. Hell, he should have his OWN personal assistants. But yet, he couldn’t deny the offer when he thought about being by Blaine’s side all the time. The superstar was hot, and that was not something Sebastian had the strength to deny. So far – the main realization he’s made is that Blaine has a definite…FLARE in him. He demands what he wants when he wants it and there’s no leeway. It was something that made a silenced rage grow in Sebastian yet it was all for some reason a bit intriguing.
Stepping into Blaine’s dressing room, Sebastian has a coffee in one hand and a flashy costume in the other. One with lots of leather and swarovski crystals. Blaine was doing a runway for one of the biggest designers around and he’d also be the performing act for the event. All he had to hope for now was that Blaine would take the news easily; The news that they wanted him to switch what he was wearing. There were many times Sebastian wanted to snap at the diva, but he wanted to keep this job so badly. ❝I have your coffee. Now THIS is your new costume. The designer wants you to switch before you come out and perform. Personally, I find this one to be hotter.❞
Blaine is secretly exhausted. Or not so secretly. Considering his mood gets worse the more tired he is and it’s measurable by the amount of attitude he dishes out to those around him. From tacking on as many add-this-subtract-that notes that can fit on the side of a Starbucks cup. To demanding everyone give him peace and quite for fifteen minutes, please?! No matter how many times he sends his assistant out to fetch coffee as fast as he can drink it–nothing is working. All he wants to do is finish this show and go back to the hotel so he can pass out until tomorrow. But there’s an after party he’s due at after the press junket which means tonight–that blended over from last night’s concert–is only a third of the way through.
A groan splits his lips open and hits his palm as he rubs the bridge of his nose. From where he’s slouched in his chair, booted feet kicked up on the vanity and crossed over one another–he snaps his head in the direction of the door opening. “Fifteen minutes! I said–oh,” he pauses when it’s Sebastian, “Good. It’s you.” Woah. Ignore the coffee–what the hell was in his other hand? Narrowing eyes burn a slow stare up Sebastian’s arm as he waits for an explanation. Once he receives it–there goes the eyebrow. “Well. Um. No,” his lips form a perfect circle but he’s unable to look away from the monstrosity hanging from Sebastian’s arm. “Tell her if she wants to wear that? She can wear it herself.” The get up looks like someone had a seizure while holding onto a bedazzler and clutching the latest fashions from the bin of a Goodwill discount store. It’s not going on his body. “Or you can if you think that’s hot. Which makes me question every time in the past you’ve told me I look good wearing something because that horror show? No. Not happening.” No. Way.
pianokeysandbowties 