Sebastian had always given Blaine his best casual moves. At first it feeling as though each of them worked, clicked, brought the boy in, and then, after meeting Hummel, it feeling as though no matter what he did, Blaine wouldn’t look at him. He’d given up by now, but they still came naturally. Like the way their bodies brushed softly when he passed by the other, or how his fingers lingered as he let go of his hand. And even as he stretched out, inadvertently showing off, to what he thought were just the walls, but that actually caught Blaine’s eyes behind his back. And you both think the other is just looking at the ground. It felt weird, clearly, having Blaine follow him inside his house, to his kitchen, to make them breakfast. Almost too familiar, to not really hurt, and yet it felt more peaceful and right than he thought it’d be. It was as though something had HAPPENED the previous night that had shifted things. Something had somehow fixed their step back into the harmonious dance they’d done on that first dance. Where Blaine would lean when he leaned, and breathe when he spoke, and speak as his blood rushed in his lungs. He’d thought for sure that was lost. That even though they still head the easy of people that knew each other well, that that particular feeling had been drained away and yet here they were. It itched his mind with something, some inkling of what he couldn’t quite understand. Those thoughts danced through his mind but they didn’t stick. Not quite yet. It was still floating in the heavy tiredness of his hangover, something a lot more concrete and pressing at the moment. Sebastian grumbled when Blaine teased him, but there was still a shade of a smile on his lips. “That, yeah. Coffee is a matter of survival, killer.” He gave Blaine a curious glance at his sudden rambling, but didn’t think it over too much. As they walked in, he went for the cabinets and opened one, throwing a coffee bag on the kitchen counter, and then picking up some mugs. “Machine’s over there.” He nodded towards it. There was a gourmet as well, but he doubted they were in any shape to appreciate it. Good old black Italian roast would have to do. After he was done setting the mugs and sugar, he grabbed something from the fridge and hopped on the island counter, watching Blaine from under his eyelids. “Pretty much all I know. I’m fairly sure those eggs in the fridge are fresh, but no idea about the pan.” He had a housekeeper that came twice a week, and when she did, she’d make him breakfast, the rare days he didn’t have to pass by a cafe or starbucks. “Jackpot.” He murmured as he opened the white box, grabbing an eclair from it and giving a large bite before offering the box towards Blaine. “The real kitchen treasure of the house of Smythe.” He pointed out.
Blaine settled for staring at the coffee bag tossed on the counter while he rubbed the back of his neck. Just how much did Sebastian drink last night before the three a.m. call for a ride? Apparently by their conversation? The answer was–a lot. He had to wonder why Sebastian decided swallowing down that much alcohol alone was a great idea. Was he just a call after the other’s hopes for finding someone for the night were given up? Then again–if Sebastian wanted to find someone? Sebastian always found someone. He knew that much about Sebastian. Being beautiful and reckless was always the perfect combination to filling his bed with company for a night if he needed it. A wish that he could be the same often ran through his thoughts while staring at a dark ceiling watching the night turn to morning when the quiet he was deafening and cold. Having someone there to make the bed warm and him exhausted enough to sleep would be much better than silence or a radio playing softly until he dozed off. Not that he hasn’t tried. There were a few horrid attempts at one night stands in the beginning that ended up with him feeling worse for going through with them than the temporary company they provided. Some people were wired one way, while others different. Not that one was better than the other. Sebastian’s way of life was his way of life and other than the heavy drinking that Blaine was gathering up the nerve to question him about was fine if it made the person happy. Just..for Sebastian? Blaine had to wonder how happy he was if he chased the bottom of one glass after another. Maybe they weren’t wired so different. And that was deeply stomach twisting to consider. Oh. Coffee. Blaine hurried over to the machine, filled the canister with water and–by luck–found a package of filters in the cabinet above the machine and a scoop inside the bag. Water gurgled, steam puffed and coffee was on it’s way. He perked up in spite of his train of thought. Hazel eyes brightly dancing across Sebastian’s sleepy face as he peeked at the box and felt his belly growl. Inching close–he leaned in and gently plucked up one of the eclairs. A moan slipped out at the first taste. Oh now that was delicious. Lashes fluttered and he swooned–catching himself with his free hand against Sebastian’s bent knee. “You know? Those should be illegal. Can we skip the eggs and eat that whole box? I swear I could,” the tip of his tongue slid over his bottom lip before he smiled. “After coffee–I have a question for you. If you don’t mind?” Maybe sinful chocolate and caffeine could fuel the nerve to approach the subject of the state Sebastian was in when he found him last night? No ‘out’ now. It had to.
❝Oh come on, killer. The other Blaine Anderson is not even close to being as talented or sexy as you.❞ he grins while looking up at the other, going along with the joke as the playfulness in his eyes twinkle back (greens and hazels matching now, glimmering like stars). ❝But if you’re all so curious to know, I did drive here to see you. It’s really no big deal. Just thought I’d cruise by. I missed that pretty face.❞ Cruise by on a two hour drive? Okay, Sebastian.
Blaine finishes settling on top of the seat’s back he was leaning against and props the tip toe of a navy blue boat shoe against the very edge of Sebastian’s right arm rest as his brows arch. Sexy? Sebastian never ceased to test the limit of how high he can raise the temperature on Blaine’s cheeks. Today is no different. “Wait–you–did?” Consider his mind blown. A two hour drive was definitely more than a ‘cruise’ just because Sebastian ‘missed seeing his face’ but he wouldn’t put that out outloud. “I–well–thank you. It’s great to see your face, too, Sebastian. Now that you’re here–you’re letting me treat you to coffee, right? I might have to cut my last class to do it but–it’s only fair. Please?”
“Thanks,” Elliott looked away to the floor at the compliments, wanting to believe them but struggling so hard to do so. It just didn’t seem comprehensible that Blaine could see him so vulnerable and still think he was attractive. It was why he dressed and acted like he did – a comfort blanket that Blaine had just seen right through.
When Blaine spoke so directly and bluntly to him, Elliott had to keep looking away, sniffing slightly as he nodded. There was a moment of silence before he reached forwards and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist, pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face in the others shoulder as his eyes watered. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t do that to Blaine or to his own image. No crying allowed, even if he was pretty damn close to it.
Blaine’s expression softened to a gentle understanding. He knew Elliott was struggling to believe him. But they were from an honest place of first-hand understanding and he wished that Elliott would take them for what they were. Truth. Not seeing himself like that was not only an injustice to himself but one Blaine wouldn’t stand for letting dig itself into Elliott’s mind any further. Now that he knew about it?
A silent promise to the other was made that he’d make sure to do everything in his power to show Elliott–somehow–that he deserves to give himself far more credit and accept that when it comes to people? Elliott was pretty far up on Blaine’s list of the good ones. Inside and out.
Being pulled in against him was unexpected. Though Elliott was the hug captain extraordinaire and he should have known it was coming–he didn’t. Surprise or not–Blaine wrapped his arms up around Elliott’s shoulders, keeping one elbow bent so he could card his fingers through his hair and stroke the back of the other’s head. A brush of his cheek against Elliott’s and he whispered comfortingly into his ear. “Hey.. Shhh. You’re okay. I got you. And I promise I meant everything I said.”
It’s terrifying to be drugged- and Mason’s pretty damned positive that’s what’s going on here. It makes him want to throw up- to get whatever is in his system out of it. It’s worse than chocolate– something he’s deathly allergic to, well.. cocoa beans at least.The 6′1 male is genuinely shaking. He feels like he’s about to pass out and by the second Blaine pulls him outside, he’s looking like he’s completely glazed over. English isn’t something he’s comprehending.
He stares down at the smaller male and his eyebrows furrow. Blaine’s clearly talking to him, but he can’t make out the words. “Speak clearer,” he asks, with an added ‘please’ at the end. His heartbeat is pounding and he feels like everyone else is running while he’s in slow motion. Bright eyes scan the night sky as he tries to look around for someone. He had been talking up this guy at the bar for a bit- but he’s nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like he had tasted anything funny in his drinks either.
Mason’s about to fall- he can feel it, and it’s not like Blaine’s strong enough to get him into the uber, so he’s trying his hardest to stand up straight, but his knees are like jell-o This is the worst feeling Mason McCarthy has ever felt.
“I– B, I need to sit down. —- Please.”
Oh my God! Blaine was a mix of terrified and enraged. Hazel eyes screamed that he wanted to go back into the club, find the person that did this and use them in place of the the punching bag hanging in his apartment that he’s neglected for months. His was face drained of color and blank from worry as he stared up at Mason. Trembling hands did their best to hold onto him so he didn’t topple over once they were on the sidewalk and on their own. The few people who passed by didn’t pay them much mind. More than an glance or two.
He had to force himself not to give a second’s worth of a glance to anyone who got too close to them wondering if the psycho that did this was sneaking out to see if Mason was left alone. Focusing on his friend was the main concern. Not anyone else. Or the fact that he really really wanted to punch the guy. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’ll try to speak slower,” and he did through wrapping his arm more firmly around Mason’s slender waist and holding tight.
“Sure. Let’s sit down. Keep talking. Okay?” He gently swerved them away from the foot traffic and gingerly lowered himself towards a bent knee to help Mason down on the sidewalk.
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. Do you want to go to the hospital,” he asked but was already debating on taking him anyway. Who knew what he was on? Or how much?
Barry could tell he was confused, not scared though, which he found himself pouting childishly at. Oh well. It’s not like he was intimidating to look at, Barry knew this, and that was fine. It was something that more often than not, led to many people to underestimate him. There’s a slightly over dramatic sigh that leaves his lips, head cocked to the side as he rolled his eyes. The guy had to get to class, of all things to say, for real? “See, I could just do that, but I don’t really feel like it, I’m sure you can understand,” he took a step closer, “Right?
Blaine subconsciously mirrored the other’s head tilt as confusion bled over into something else at the eyeroll. A mild annoyance of not knowing why Barry wasn’t going to let him leave the room. What was this guy’s deal? For some reason–maybe instinct–even in the glint of frustration that pressed Blaine’s lips together into a thin line, a rush of adrenaline seeped into his veins as Barry stepped closer and Blaine tuned into the tone of Barry’s voice. “No, I don’t understand.” Why was he looking at him like that? In spite of wanting to keep his ground–Blaine took a tip toe to heel step backwards to keep the distance between them. “What do you want?”
Kurt pads into the kitchen, arms wrapped around himself somewhat protectively. The kitchen was just as nice as everything else, Kurt notes. Somehow, now that he’s settling, he feels less out of place and more unfamiliar with his surroundings. His gaze drifts towards Blaine when the other speaks.
“Thanks. Something to eat wouldn’t hurt.” His appetite isn’t really there but he figures that it’s better to try eating than avoid it until he feels better- who knows if that’ll be while he’s here or not for days. “Better, I guess.” He says with a slow nod. “Head’s clearer at least..” He trails off, pursing his lips in a pause.
“Blaine? Why are you doing this? I’m pretty sure I’ve been mean way more than I’ve been nice, you know next to nothing about me and I just got my ass beat by guys who probably work for a drug dealer- whatever it is he actually does. You gave me clothes with your fancy school’s logos on it for fucks sake, you helping me doesn’t make any sense.” At least he’s honest, even if it does come with distress showing in his voice.
After thumbing the cabinets closed–Blaine turns around with a mug in each hand and his grip quickly tightens on the ceramic handles at the sight of a cleaned up Kurt standing in his kitchen. The boy was so pale and so–fragile–looking without all the muck and gross Blaine couldn’t get off of him with just some handwipes in the car. How could anyone do that to him?
“Good. I mean–good. I’m glad it’s clearer and you feel a little better,” he mumbles to fill the silence but there was more there waiting as Blaine sits the mugs on the island and tears his attention back down to putting some tea bags inside their cups. The question catches him by surprise as he scoots Kurt’s tea towards him and the finger he motioned towards the sugar and honey sort of deflated down towards the others before his hand fell to the side.
Kurt was right. This was weird. Normal people didn’t do this stuff for strangers–did they? Not to this extent. “Well—,” he catches a sliver of his lip between his teeth. “I’ve been in your position. If someone didn’t help me? I’m not sure how I would have ended up. And I have a keen suspicion if I didn’t help you? Who else was going to? You’d have gone to them before I found you in an alley in the rain. So–that left me. Didn’t it? I’m not a person to be blind to someone hurting,” he looked down and shrugged, “That’s why.”
Okay, this got way too fun for Seb way too fast. This was beginning to go from grumbles and pouts to grins and smirks on his part. Sebastian had been in a total grump mood before and was going to refuse to remove his face from where he had it nuzzled in Blaine’s lower stomach, but when he hears Blaine’s laughter begin to increase he can’t help but grin against his skin too and try to keep his own laughter silent so Blaine didn’t know he found this incredibly funny. Shoving his face in more, Sebastian lifts a hand up to try and find Blaine’s face, which he succeeds successfully and starts annoying him more by poking his cheek over and over with a finger. Feeling his fiance’s body move with the way he’s cracking up, Sebastian decides to bite his stomach light enough to be playful. He didn’t let the way the other swat him or squirm around stop his mission. He would get revenge for Blaine making him say please! No words came from Seb, just his laughter beginning to grow louder as he pokes him and nuzzles hard against him. Game on, Anderson. When Sebastian got in these childish, antagonizing moods— there was no going back until he was satisfied.
His tearful eyes go huge when Sebastian ignores his demand to get out of his ticklish spot and only amps up his torturous ways! Of course he would! How could he think anything different?! The pokes to his face that joined in on the mess didn’t do much to distract him from the weirdo’s constant antagonizing! Breathless laughs swallow up his higher pitched gasps and chuckles of protest. Hearing Sebastian start to show how much he was enjoying this by forgetting to stifle the pitch of his maniacal laughter–Blaine kicks his feet against the floor and gives an upwards thrust of his hips trying to dislodge the man from his lap. “Please! Please! You’re enjoying this too much, Seb!” Another round of gasps and frantic hands stop batting Sebastian’s shoulders so he can wrap his fingers around Sebastian’s wrist and try to hold it away from his face. The other–well–when you’re stuck? Just–laugh like a madman and try to get even?! Blaine lifts Sebastian’s shirt and just starts tickling back as hard as he can through ragged gulps and scootches to the left, right or anywhere he can try to escape to. “Why are you torturing me?!?! I’ll torture back,” and he backs it up with a more determined tickle just above Sebastian’s navel.
It was not the kind of thing Barry would normally do, that was for sure. In two years, the craziest things he had ever done had been singing at a karaoke bar with one of his best friends and gone to a club with his whole group of friends, and not necessarily to a very popular one. Two things normal people his age had probably done a thousand times, more times than they could keep track of. Of course he had done crazier, much crazier, but those were things that normal people did not really have the chance to do. This was one of those moments in which he got tired of the fact that his social life did not go anywhere beyond Netflix and gatherings at his own place because he couldn’t be bothered to meet up anywhere else. “Yeah!” he therefore exclaimed, content with his decision. “Yeah, I could totally stop by one of these nights. I mean, if I get to see you play…” He ran his hands through his soaked hair as he wiped his shoes on the welcome mat, only then allowing himself to step in, noticing just how freezing his clothes suddenly felt against his skin now that he had somewhere warm to contrast it with. “Uh, where can I hang this to dry?” he wondered after having taken his jacket off. Superspeed would hardly keep a horrible cold at bay. “Wh– No! No, that doesn’t sound nerdy at all.” He was smiling, sure, and had actually been smiling throughout the story, but only because he found it absolutely endearing that they would actually venture themselves into something like that, evidently overlooking what people might think. “Absolutely not,” he assured him, for it would take a whole bunch of far more embarrassing stories to scare him away the idea of dinner. “Actually, I think if there’s one thing this world can’t have too much of, that’s superheroes. And the fact that you guys were ready to become one, that’s… that’s pretty admirable. I mean, no matter what mission that was, it’s– I think it’s pretty courageous of you.”
“Thanks. You’re right about superheroes. The world needs more of them. If for no other reasons than to get us through the rougher days. Right? I don’t know about courageous but,” he shook his head thinking back, “Determination can get you to go pretty far when it comes to things–no matter how small–that matter.” Blaine felt his cheeks grow warm and aimed a lopsided smile at the floor. At least the guy wasn’t judging him for his high school fantasy dreams of being some sort of superhero swooping in with his best friend to save the day. Honestly, that fantasy helped get him through days that didn’t have much good to focus on or think about. A rough time made easier by daydreams, flooding his plate with so many goals that would drive a sane person to exhaustion and fantasies to escape into. And he wouldn’t change the oddness of it all for the world. Because it was his own piece of something to make his own. Besides–the Nightbird costume was legendary. Handmade to a painstaking everything’s just right detail and still in his closet–in the back where no one could see–but Blaine loved it too much leave it gather dust in his bedroom in Lima. “Here. Let me take that,” Blaine reached for Barry’s coat and cringed at how soaked he was. “You know..you look a lot worse than I do.” Even if he could feel his hair creeping into curls and cringed at the idea of them falling loose and his pants legs were wet along with his coat–Barry was far worse. Which said a lot if Blaine considered his hair coming undone lower on the list of damage done from the downpour. Because we’re talking curls here and plenty of them just waiting to break free. “Were you even under your umbrella? It’s hard to tell,” he hummed and wondered if this was too awkward of an offer but he didn’t want the guy freezing in soaked clothes. “My brother left a some clothes on his last visit. Some flannel pants and a few shirts. If you want? I can grab them and you can change while I start something? We can toss your clothes in the dryer? Better than being uncomfortable all night?”
‘A positive ray of sunshine’ was definitely an understatement. Blaine was one-of-a-kind. Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, Denver is great. Most of the time.” He smiled. “I’ve actually just moved here thanks to a great promotion. It was a fantastic opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up.” What he really meant was, ‘I get to make more money doing the same job, and I get to move to a different city so I never get the awkward pleasure of seeing my ex’s face again.’ Even though Patrick liked to ramble when nervous, even he knew better than to spring that much information on what could be a wonderful new friendship. “I confess, I also was quick to take the position because of the location. Rocky Mountains boy that’s never been to the east coast? Who doesn’t want to say they’ve lived in New York. It’s a classic fantasy. You have to be lame to dis this city.” He looked around for a moment, then back at Blaine. “It took me a bit, but she won. I do love her already. No wonder so many famous artists sing about her.”
“I’m sure that it’s lovely there. My family took my brother and I to Tahoe when we were kids. But I always wanted to see more of that side of the country. Other than Los Angeles? I’ve never been.” Blaine shifted the shoulder strap of his bag to drape across his chest as they neared the exit. “No one should ever pass up an opportunity to call New York City home,” he grinned and gestured with a wave towards the cityscape just past the door once they stepped outside. “I mean. City of dreams, right? Which–now that I think about it–,” he lead them down the massive staircase of Grand Central Station through the busy swam of people that rarely seemed to be any less crowded no matter what time of day or night, “is sort of odd since it claims to be the city that never sleeps too.” His movements were seamless and even as he darted around the people that got close to them–the ones that got too close were given an excuse me smile before he looked up at Patrick with a lift of his brows and a hapless shrug. “Well. Welcome to New York and congratulations on your promotion. When do you start?”
“You can ask.” He says with a slow nod. Explaining could be a good thing. No more secrets to keep from Blaine – or, well, hardly any more – maybe he could beam about a spell working, actually talking about it at all would be nice. So long as Blaine keeps it a secret all should be well.. Though Kurt is aware that he’ll have to cover some rules while he’s at it to clarify that he isn’t tormenting anyone.. The rule of three and all of that.
Nerves still buzzing though, he makes his way over to his bed and sits gingerly on the edge. Kurt laces his fingers together on his lap to keep from fidgeting. He can only imagine how obscured all of this must look. It’s most likely that Blaine isn’t thinking magic right now, just that Kurt was up to something odd, and/or Kurt was more odd than he thought. Part of him still wonders if he should just let that be the case and opt out of this conversation again.
Blaine studies Kurt closely looking for any signs that Kurt would rather not talk about what he just walked in on. In spite if he answered that he could. It’s during that close look that Blaine realizes something about himself. He hasn’t barely moved from the few steps inside he took before their strange situation began. Kurt told him to stay put. He–literally–stayed put. Now that Kurt was back and sitting on his bed–it seemed silly that he couldn’t walk further inside their room. The conversation didn’t have to be held with them feet apart and Blaine suddenly self-consciously wondering if Kurt might think he was ready to bolt.
Finding a seat on the floor in front of where Kurt sat on the bed–Blaine crosses his legs under one another and gently cups his knees. “You don’t have to answer anything. I promise I’m not going to tell anyone but you only have to say what you are most comfortable with.” He keeps his voice purposefully soft and tries his hardest to offer as much understanding as he can. “What were you doing? I mean–I could guess by what it looks like but I’d rather you tell me?”
pianokeysandbowties 