Dave rubbed his head, wishing that he was back in bed instead of trying to figure out why Blaine was throwing damn pieces of cement at his house. He had been an asshole before, he didn’t think he deserved this, not after everything and all the apologies. Dave just stared at the male in front of him, blinking as he tried to process everything, especially Blaine’s attempt at apologizing. Giving a long sigh, he turned back to see the window, hole and all. “I’m not going to send you to prison. Though you’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” he groaned, looking back towards the other.
Dave stared at the fingers, trying to understand what Blaine was trying to possibly do. “Dude, I don’t know how much it’s going to cost. I’ll call the insurance people in the morning and get an estimate,” he said as he kept looking around. “Look, come inside,” he sighed, inching towards the other. He did look visibly drunk, at least he did in Dave’s opinion. Why Blaine was out like this, wandering around, and why he thought to throw cement at people’s houses was a good idea, he wasn’t actually sure. “I have to say, you’d be good on a football team, that’s for sure,” he said sarcastically.
A tiny sliver of relief splashed onto Blaine’s expression when Dave promised him he wouldn’t call the cops. The last thing he needed was to call Rachel and beg her to come bail him out. Because there was no way he’d phone his mother and tell her what he did. ‘Hello, Mom? I need you to come pick me up from prison’ was a conversation he would never ever live down. Sobriety in the form of terror managed to kill some of his drunken idiocy but it wasn’t enough to make him not stagger to the side after his hand signals that failed to magically fix anything and hold–very carefully–onto Dave’s mailbox for support. With any luck? He wouldn’t break that too.
“Thank you. I don’t need tonight getting any more horrible. I was trying to–it wasn’t supposed to be a chunk of sidewalk. I was going for a stone,” he mumbled frustrated at himself for being such a fool. What Dave was thinking of him–Blaine could only imagine. “Are you sure it isn’t any trouble?” Though if he was here when Dave called the insurance company–he could pay him right away and they could get the window replaced before the Karofskys returned and all hell broke loose? That was a plus. Yeah? A lazy lean had him taking a few fancy steps to prevent gravity from working it’s curse and landing him on his rear end. Again. “Oh, I preferred polo but maybe you’re right,” he tried to joke back but it was a weak attempt.
At some point, Dave had fallen asleep at his desk. So maybe he shouldn’t have actually put off his project until the last minute, but that was his true nature. Technically, he had plenty of time in the morning to get the thing down, he wasn’t actually sure why he was really panicking over the project. Maybe it was because he was home alone, and didn’t have his parents yelling at him to get it done. He woke up with a start, back aching and body stiff. Shaking his head, he got up and walked to his bed, eyes drooping once more. He crawled into his bed, and without much trouble, fell asleep once more.
It was the loud crashing noise that woke him up again. Eyes wide, he looked around the room, now suddenly wide away. His eyes trained on the now gaping hole in his window and gasped. “Shit,“ he hissed, getting up to see what came through his window. There, on the floor, was a rather large piece of the sidewalk. Not a rock, a piece of the sidewalk. He immediately looked out of his window and caught sight of a stunned Blaine Anderson. Turning, he moved quickly out of his room and down the stairs to the outside. “What the hell, Anderson? What was that for?!” he growled.
Oh for—! This was happening. There was no magic rewind button to push. Not when he saw who was standing in the window two seconds later. “Oh dear God,” the words were muffled against slim fingers still pressed to his lips as his stomach crashed through the soles of his shoes and embedded itself in the ground. Blaine stood there waiting for the inevitable moment where the disappearing figure of Dave Karofsky would appear in the doorway of the house he just vandalized. All he knew was he didn’t want to–the door swung open–and that dreadful thought he had came right out the second he stared at the face of the man growling at him. “I don’t want to go to prison. Please don’t send me to jail.”
A wobbly step towards him ended with him putting his hands out trying to soothe Dave’s anger by flinching his fingers. Like the motions could magically erase it. “I’ll pay for the damage and I–this was a colossal mistake.” The whole night was. This just happened to be the biggest one. Or was the last glass of whiskey the real villain? Yeah that was probably it. Pleading, round hazel eyes begged even harder than the tone of his vaguely slurred voice. “Just..tell me how much it is and,” one finger pointed towards the window but the rest on the opposite hand remained skyward, “I’ll cover it?” Using the same hand, he wiped his mouth and smiled but the attempt was paper thin. Sort of like a window when pitted against a chunk of sidewalk.
pianokeysandbowties 