“Eh, you fuckin’ wish, Anderson.” Lip threw back with a grin, just as quickly as Blaine could dish it out. He may have been high, but he wasn’t slow. “That shit-eating grin—
yeah, that’s the one.” The spark in Blaine’s eye was inherently a sign Lip had recognized from a very early age. Mischief. Lip’s cover lasted for now, but he vowed to swear off the fruity drinks for the rest of the night, just in case it was somehow affecting his thought process
— which in itself was a really stupid fucking thought. Blaine’s laughter was the metaphorical finger pointed in a ‘Haha!’, which drove an “Alright, Alright
— enough of these. Let’s get outta here.” No resistance would be accepted when Lip grabbed Blaine’s (empty) glass out of his hand, and took his own to set on the side of someone’s booth, indifferent to the eight people that sat, yelling over the music and enjoying the vibe. Though they looked obviously confused and offended when he offered a wave accompanied by his own South Side Smirk and ducked the fuck out of there, his arm hooking under Blaine’s elbow and dragging him through the crowd to continue their conversation outside as if there had been no interruption, though it didn’t take Lip long to pull out his pack of cigarettes to steal one for the walk.
“Well,” Lip shrugged, throwing back the same looseness and teasing Blaine offered, “I’m still glad I got two then.” Win win, either way. “We magically cut Chad off, so that’s another win for the good guys. Oh no? What are you then?” He chided back, laughter falling from his lips. “We talkin’ like, a solid 7? Or?” Lip hadn’t really thought of the bar, after all risking running into Frank would easily set them up for a third wheel, and instead of having a good birthday, Blaine and Lip would end up spun out on an eight ball on the train yard at Frank’s insistence. But… Blaine had just walked himself into a very big warm welcome from the gang without even realizing. Smirking profusely, Lip tugged out his cellphone and started typing away, listening to Blaine. “Yeah no, smelt like douchebags. Axe and American Eagle, for sure.” A smell he could recognize from being an RA until he too sent that shattering down around him.
“Your, uh, nose hairs good now, bud?” Lip laughed, pocketing his phone and puffing out a huge cloud of smoke in the process, causing him to cough on his laughter a little. “Yeah,” Lip directed, pointing the red embers down the sidewalk, off into the distance, “We’re just gonna take a little break in there, but uh, just know you’re gonna have fun. Let me guide you. Oh
— shit, almost forgot. Debbie made these. Said happy birthday.” Lip reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie full of gummies. “She wants to know what you think ASAP, bein’ laid up has her doin’ all sorts of weird shit, but hey, I thought these were pretty fuckin’ great.”
“Yeah, them. Kev really likes ya, but … might be under the impression you’re, uh, kinda maybe a porn star?”
“It’s a long story.”
Geez, Debbie knew how to make some candy! Blaine scooped a second handful from the bag before tucking it back into his coat pocket and plucking them up two at a time from his palm to pop them in his mouth. Humming appreciatively as he smirked in an afterthought that seemed to come out of nowhere. “You know what gets me about bars like that? Other than the fact that they’re either amazing..cause I’ve been in a couple that were awesome..or they’re so gross that you feel like washing your hands doesn’t even cut the full body scrub down you should get after leaving one? That they call them meat markets. Which one is it? Is it meet as in m-e-e-t or meat as in m-e-a-t?” An arm slung itself around Lip’s shoulders and the hand that hung limply near Lip’s chest smelled suspiciously like sugar and gelatin.
“Cause it really could go either way given the types of meatheads that frequent the ones like that one.” Welp! What a topic to think on. Blaine’s goofy, lopsided grin said he might’ve just left that topic up for Lip to get philosophical about because Blaine might not be all together the best person to finish that trail of thought. Or any. Given the fact that he just pulled a more than half empty bag of gummy bears out of his pocket that were handcrafted so very lovingly by Debbie Gallagher from his pocket with his free hand. It fell open as he held it towards Lip for him to take some. “You’re right. Debbie might’ve just found her calling in life. Want some? They mixed great with your Sex On The Beaches.” A telltale playful side-eye said he still wasn’t over being made to walk up to the bar and order those from Axe-Smelling-Tramp-Stamp Chad. Nor was he going to let Lip off the hook for it any time soon.
He walked like that. Half leaning on Lip for support and trusting him to keep them on the sidewalk as he let his head fall back and looked up at the sky. It was nowhere near as clear as Westerville, Ohio. But at night, when the traffic died out as much as it would ever die out at any time, through the clouds there were stars waiting for him to gaze at. He sighed happily. Even with the lack of stars and fresh air, he couldn’t imagine himself being anywhere else. Especially on his birthday. Especially nowhere else when he was with who he was with heading towards a place where they only wanted him to be himself. “I’m so glad I picked Chicago.. Wasn’t sure I was going to, you know? This almost didn’t happen. Here we are, though. Best birthday ever in a city I love more than I thought I ever would.” He squeezed himself tight to Lip’s side in a hug that had his arm holding Lip’s chest a bit tighter before he loosened it again and glanced back at him. Cheeks pink with their walk, the chilly air, and maybe for another unmentioned reason.
“You’re just..” Dead silence as words sank in followed by being completely dumbfounded. Eeeer?! HUH?! Hello, what did he just say? “….Wait. Did..you just say he thinks I’m a porn star? Okay. The next logical question would be…how?”
like he should do, he dropped everything when the bell rang. the paramedic in charge of ambulance sixty one was in his shotgun seat in record time and once his partner was in they sped off. the nature of the call was a man in distress. he knew that could be anything so nick was prepared. they pulled up to the house, a small grey structure that was fenced in on south homan avenue.
“ paramedics!” he called out once they got to the door. a child opened the door and he rushed in. the paramedic that was expecting everything wasn’t expecting what he saw inside. “ blaine? ”
The night started out relatively harmless (as far as the definition of ‘harmless’ can go in the Gallagher household) with Blaine waving off anything stronger than a beer and Carl mentioning something about a stick being somewhere a stick should never be and how Blaine liked it there too much. Lip telling his brother to ‘shut the fuck up’ and..well..the usual that made Blaine grow weirdly fond of the family. They were functionally dysfunctional (mostly) and it was a strange dynamic to watch. Their highs were high. Their lows were rock bottom but they always endured. More than his family back in Westerville with deep pockets and ‘perfect lives’ ever had.
Rock bottom. He thought he saw them hit it before. Lip told him he had no idea. Until tonight..he fully understood what he thought was their low was nothing in comparison to.. Ian. Staggering in with a blood smeared mouth and nose ranting so fast that nothing he said made sense. His knuckles were dirty, scraped open and his eyes were so gone Blaine wasn’t sure he’d ever get what he looked like out of his head.
“Just help him, he’s been like that for an hour. Please,” Blaine stood clenching his phone in a white knuckled vice grip. Seeing Lip back away and shout the same thing he said–he barely caught a vaguely familiar voice saying his name. His face went blank when their eyes met.
“I came to apologize on behalf of us.” Nick began, when he entered Blaine’s hospital room. He didn’t expect a peep out of Blaine, but he still wanted to make things right even if the others didn’t exactly agree with him. They had just left McKinley after the confrontation with the other New Directions. Nick informed the other Warblers that he would return before curfew, Sebastian of course put his foot down but honestly he didn’t care, Blaine was his friend. And he had to make things right, there was hopefully a chance. “I had no idea he put rock salt in that slushie. We all had no idea.” He told him as a tear fell down his cheek. Things should not be like this. He was a mess, everybody was a mess but Nick was the only one who cared enough to take the initiative. He was happy that there was nobody in the room for this, he didn’t exactly want an audience.
Blaine could barely talk Kurt into leaving when his father came to pick him up. Only after reassuring his boyfriend repeatedly while high as a kite–a feat that deserved some sort of credit that he was able to make a solid case while feeling like he was floating on cloud..er..twenty–did Kurt agree to go get some sleep. A out of it as Blaine was? He couldn’t make himself do the same unless he couldn’t fight the fog floating through his brain. Now that he was alone? His mind was too busy with thoughts about the Warblers to drift off. –What happened to them?– Thinking that he never knew Sebastian was hitting home hard. Wondering how he could have been so blind to someone who he once thought so much about as a friend was one thing. But the others? Blaine ended up sitting in the bed with his fingers laced together, biting his lip and trying not to cry because it hurt too much as he tried to figure out the answer. –None of them even tried to help.– Hearing someone coming into the room–Blaine turned his head so he could see who. “Nick?” There was no hiding his surprise. Giving no pause–Nick tried his best to explain. Confirming Blaine’s suspicions about who did it didn’t make him feel better. Only worse. Blaine’s heart sank even further at the sight of him crying. “Nick,” he repeated himself in a slow whisper. “It’s–Please. Don’t cry. Come here. Sit down. Let’s talk. Are you okay?”
pianokeysandbowties 