“Exactly.” he agreed. “Small steps. Little things.” he grinned, cocking his head. “It’s hard when you’re, you know, not subtle about who you are. I always loved glittery eyeliner and being as big of a person as I can be. I’m not going to shrink myself to fit other people’s expectations. Never wanted to be that person. It meant I got my ass kicked a lot in high school but Carter was having none of it. Taught me how to fight.” he admitted. “Of course, Carter could still beat my ass even though I’m a lot bigger then her now.”
“It pays to have a badass older sister though.” he laughed, shaking his head. “She’s an actual FBI agent and not just a consultant like myself.” Jason leaned down to brush his lips across the kids knuckles. “My sister would kill me if I didn’t ‘kiss it better’ as you say. How about a good old fashioned american diner? I want bad meatloaf.”
“You shouldn’t. Remaining true to yourself is the only way you’re ever going to find people who truly appreciate who you are. I’m glad you decided that you wouldn’t bend for anyone. It takes a strong person to do that,” he stopped abruptly when Jason mentioned being beat up in high school. An air of those words hitting close to home thickened around him. A sympathy born of being there softened his eyes. An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it down like a bitter pill rather than drudge through the ‘It’s okay, it made me stronger..so I guess there’s that.’ awkwardness that always followed after finding someone who’s been there.
“I’m glad you have someone to keep you in line then,” he joked having took the change of subject and running with it as fast as possible towards a lighter tone of conversation. “I think we all need one of those, hm? I think mine is my best friend. Poor guy is stuck reminding me to always strive to be a…,” his breath hitched when an unexpected brush of lips ran across his knuckles. The sensation tripled from the bruises caused his heart to skip a beat. “Thank you,” he whispered blinking to get rid of his dazed expression. “Meatloaf? I–yeah. You’re making it far too easy but if that’s your choice? Meatloaf it is. Oh! Right! They were leaving! “We can walk. I’m only a few blocks down the street and the market’s on the way.” One last smile and Blaine took the lead, more than ready to get out of there for the rest of the night.
“I am damn near thirty-three years old. Still young but old enough to remember when the world wasn’t as welcoming as it is now. Old enough to remember telling my first crush how I felt about him and winding up in the hospital a week later. Parents were not happy about that. Their perfect little Taiwanese son was into guys?” he snorted. “They got over it. Things got better. Slowly. And yeah, I’ve been to the club and come out of it worse for wear. This-” he tapped the kids knuckles lightly. “Isn’t a bar brawl gone wrong. These punches had purpose.”
“Happy birthday, kid. And trust me, you’re no bother. I’d have given anything for some help when I got myself into some sticky situations.”
By the way his wrappings that they’d tossed in the trash were stained a gross dark brown red and the damage on his knuckles? Blaine wasn’t so sure the world made as many leaps and bounds towards acceptance that Jason was under the impression of. Or he could be getting frustrated and grumpy because he was hungry, in pain and still upset. A mix of both to sour his mood? Yeah. That was pretty on point. A sardonic smile touched on his lips, a huff of laughter with no real sound said he sympathized with the parental opinion by first hand experience. And hospital stays for a part of yourself you couldn’t change? Yeah, he’d punched that card too. Unfortunately.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he glanced up–gaze softened with understanding. “All of it. No one deserves that. Parents are supposed to support us. Some just miss the message.” Swallowing hard as his knuckles were tapped, Blaine’s breath hitched. “Probably more purpose than I want to think about..” Because the idea that he’d punched when he could have stopped crossed his mind more than once and the connotations behind that were something he’d rather not dwell on. Until later.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. The birthday wish and the help. Can I make it up to you? Are you hungry? I need a shower and food. Let me make you dinner? It’s the least I can do.”
“Oh, mais ça n’a pas l’air si bon.” Jason commented, looking down at the pinkey. “Looks like it is not in good shape.” he explained, looking up at Blaine with a worried expression on his face. “He may not like loosing to a gay man but he still lost, otherwise you’d be in much worse condition. Been there, done that. And I’m bisexual.” he sighed. “And that was long before I started working with the FBI. Oh, I work with the FBI by the way. Civilian consultant. Linguistics. I speak fourteen languages and none of them are Brute. You shouldn’t have to deal with that. How old are you? Twenty five? At most?” Jason was bad with ages so he couldn’t say for sure.
All that French reminded Blaine of a certain someone he hadn’t seen in years. Not a bad memory, no. Just one that made him realize that maybe he should pick up the phone and call to say hello. Check to make sure his old friend was doing well and what his life was like now. Thinking of that should’ve helped with a distraction. Nope. Blaine’s resolve not to admit to how bad that hurt faltered just long enough for a cringe to escape when he flexed his fingers in defiance of it ‘not being in good shape’. “Might’ve jammed it up a little,” his mumble was aimed at his hand even though his gaze darted up to meet Jason’s before his attention was pulled back to the finger in question. “I think I have something in my bag I can take. I’ll get it checked out in the morning if it’s worse. Promise.”
The longer he listened to the stranger telling him a bit about himself, the more curious he got. Blaine even huffed at the irony in just admitting to an FBI Agent that he was in a fist fight where he might’ve done more damage than the other guy. That’d be his luck. Blaine waited until Jason was finished before giving him an understanding smirk. “Been there, done that? Sorry you went through it. No one should have to. This wasn’t the first time for me. Who knows if it’ll be the last? I’m twenty four. Good guess. My birthday’s in a little over a week. You were almost spot on.” Must have been a lucky night for Jason coming that close! “I’m probably taking up way too much of your time for this. I apologize. You didn’t have to help but you did. So. Thanks.”
“Sparring then?” he asked with a crooked grin on his face. He gently cleaned the wound, humming lightly as he did so. When Jasons hand finally lifted the blood was mostly cleaned from the wound. His fingers traced the others knuckles lightly for a moment before he looked up at him. Blaine. “Does that hurt? I need to know if we’re in for a trip to the hospital tonight.” Jason, for all his flirtatious personality quirks, really was nervous for Blaine’s hand. He could see the callouses on his fingers. He worked with his hands often and an injury could be bad for him.
“Sort of. Got asked for a couple rounds. Turns out? He was one of the types who don’t like losing to a gay guy. So they resort to a cheap shot or two under the guise of a mistake.” The gym, thankfully, wasn’t full of them which is what drew him here. Even though it was a train ride away from the one closest? It was worth the trip to avoid the meatheads. One or two still occasionally managed to slip by. Today, it was his luck that he didn’t sense it before agreeing to spar with one. The guy wouldn’t shut up about how they should go try their luck on some ‘hot piece of ass’ working out in cardio with her friend.
Blaine shut him down with a mumble of how that really wasn’t his thing. The idiot’s question of ‘Look at her though! Dude, what are you? Gay?’ was met with one of his off the cuff scowls that was an answer in and of itself.
Round Three landed him a sock to the diaphragm hard enough to knock his wind out while simultaneously pushing his wrong timing and now I’ve got a point to prove button. The rest, they say, is history. Though his knuckles didn’t get in the shape they were in on their own. Who came out worse for wear? Well. Depends on how you look at it. His brows shoved together at the soft touch running across his knuckles. It hurt but not a hospital worthy hurt. Probably. “Yeah but.. I think it’ll be okay. Just needs some ice. At least I hope so,” he quipped at the end before sighing in frustration at the situation. His fingers twitched against Jason’s palm when the other’s finger grazed over his pinky knuckle. “I can always see how they look tomorrow.. Thank you. For everything.”
“Oh, I don’t mind if people know I’m here but if the cops come asking me whose ass you kicked I’d rather actually not know.” he explained, a low laugh vibrating through his chest. “Come on kid.” of course, the kid with the bloody knuckles happened to have walked right up to an FBI consultant but he wasn’t going to scare him off. He needed the help.
“I’m Jason Lin.
Comment vous appelez-vous?” he asked as he lead the younger man over to a sink, running some warm water. He quickly soaked a rag in the warm water before applying it to his knuckles. “Scrapper? You don’t really look the type.”
Blaine nodded as an embarrassed wince formed crookedly across his mouth. “Sure. Sorry. This was probably the LAST thing you thought you’d have to deal with tonight.” The ache wasn’t letting up. They had to be better by morning. Missing a lesson on account of a match turned fight wasn’t something he was going to be forgiven for very easily and lying wasn’t one of his greatest talents. Most of the time.
“I’m Blaine. It’s nice to meet you, Jason. My apology for the reason why.” Blaine connected the rag in Jason’s hand and the water running in the sink to what was about to happen and readied himself. Just not enough… Gentle as the pressure was, the initial touch drew a hissed in breath between clenched teeth. “Yeah. I mean. No. Not like that. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”
“I’d rather not, plausible deniability and all. Come on, let’s get you patched up.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to breathe a word you were here. I’d rather not answer questions about how this happened anyway.” Blaine shot the guy a guilty smile before looking down at his bloodiedbruised knuckles. They really were a mess. And he had piano lessons tomorrow. Probably should have thought about that before he didn’t regain control of a sparring match gone a teeny bit out of control.
“I’ll be–,” he hissed in a breath through clenched together teeth in a grimace when he wriggled them trying to make a point that failed beyond the meaning of fail (so said the pain shooting up his arm). “Wow. That really is getting worse..and a lot more gross.” Cringing, his nose scrunched when he met the other’s eyes and nodded. “I mean–yeah. Thanks.”
pianokeysandbowties 