A/N: We're going to pretend that S4 was compliant with the real life calendar, so St. Patrick's Day was on a Sunday. Ok? Ok, glad we're on the same page now.
And please don't ask me about Kurt. For the sake of this story it's still S4 and they're still broken up.
On Sunday afternoon Blaine sat cross-legged atop his bed. Immaculately organized sheets of paper containing notes from his history class sprawled out before him in neat stacks. His hefty textbook lay open in his lap as he flipped through it, armed with a fresh package of Post-It notes, marking pages relevant to the upcoming test that he and Sam needed to study for. Glancing at the clock on his dresser, he saw that Sam was due to arrive soon.
Just as the thought crossed his mind the doorbell rang downstairs. Knowing that his mother would get to the door well before Blaine could uncross his legs, he stayed put. Sure enough, he heard the door open and a pair of voices exchanging polite pleasantries. Moments later came the distinct sound of footsteps pounding in his direction, followed shortly by Sam's familiar figure standing in the open doorway. He slouched against the frame with his backpack slung over one shoulder, waiting for an invitation to come in further.
At the sight of him Blaine smiled and gave a little wave.
"Hey! Come on in."
Sam returned the smile and crossed the threshold, slinging his bag onto Blaine's desk chair.
"Hey, bro. Thanks for helping me study for this thing. I seriously suck at history."
He rummaged through the pack to collect his own, considerably less organized, notes. It took a minute but eventually he emerged victorious with a handful of crinkled notebook paper. Blaine shook his head fondly and patted the space next to him on the bed. Sam hesitated a moment, eyes flicking up and down his friend's body. A mischievous smile crossed his face, but disappeared so quickly that Blaine didn't even notice.
Sam plopped down beside Blaine and dropped his fistful of notes in front of them. Blaine looked down at the misshapen heap with raised eyebrows.
"Sam, one of these days we really need to work on your filing skills."
"Dude, nail care is a major part of my manscaping routine," Sam said in an affronted tone, raising his hands for emphasis.
Blaine chuckled, accustomed by now to this type of miscommunication.
"Alright, Sam, I get it. You have very handsome nails."
Sam turned his wrists to admire the perfectly smooth nails for himself.
"Yeah, I do, don't I?"
He lowered his hands and looked at Blaine. The mischievous grin that graced his abnormally (but adorably) large mouth during his arrival returned, but this time it didn't go unnoticed.
Blaine knew this smile— this smile rarely meant anything good for him.
"Sam," he started in a warning voice, "I don't know what you're about to do, but you better leave me out of…"
Before he could finish the sentence Sam lunged toward him and a sharp pain pierced just below Blaine's ribcage. Blaine bounced up an inch and curled into himself as a protective measure, glaring at his best friend.
"OW! What the hell was that for?"
The blonde pulled back and sat up again, still grinning impishly and looking very pleased with himself.
"Sorry, bro, I had to. You're not wearing green."
Momentarily bewildered enough to feel fear of a second attack, Blaine asked,
"And why exactly does that matter?"
Sam shakes his head, looking profoundly disappointed and pitying.
"Blaine, it's St. Patrick's Day. Don't you know the rules?"
Rolling his eyes, Blaine resettled into the comfortable position he'd been in before this all started. Of course Sam would be enthusiastic about something as ridiculous as pinching anyone not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day.
Blaine quickly surveyed his friend's outfit. Sam wore a plain red t-shirt, simple blue jeans and boring white socks. Grinning, Blaine formulated a plan.
"You know, my friend, it doesn't look like you're exactly dressed appropriately yourself."
Sam jumped off the bed before Blaine could reach him, leaving the shorter boy sprawled ungracefully on his stomach in the recently vacated spot.
"Woah, hold up." Sam held out his hands defensively. "I'm totally covered. I put on green briefs this morning."
Miffed about his failed attack, Blaine righted himself and looked challengingly into the other boy's eyes.
"I'm pretty sure it's cheating if it's not clearly visible," he paused and added, "unless you can prove it."
"Easy," Sam said with confidence, "I got nothin' to hide."
Blaine expected this reaction, knowing full well that Sam held no qualms about displaying his body, given his history (and the fact that everyone openly acknowledged that he was gorgeous).
What he did not expect was for Sam to reach down to the hem of shirt and tug the garment over his head. Eyes widening slightly, he clarified,
"You know you could just unbutton your pants and show off a little bit, right?"
Pausing with his fingers on said button, Sam looked at Blaine with an entirely nonplussed expression.
"Dude, just let me do my thing, ok?"
Suddenly Blaine felt a little uncomfortable sitting on the bed, watching his best friend strip. In an attempt to alleviate some of his awkwardness he rose and moved to his messenger bag, pretending to search for something in its contents.
"See? I told you. Totally green," came Sam's voice from behind him.
Blaine took a breath and turned around. No matter the countless times Blaine saw Sam in this exact same state of undress, the sight still stopped his heart for a second. Today proved to be no exception.
The broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, decorated in between with firm abs and enviable pecs. Muscular thighs and sculpted calves decorated with fine hair moved upward to an ass that Blaine could only imagine being just as toned. The briefs were well fitted, stretched tight across the skin they covered. He willed himself not to look too intently at that area longer than it took to register the fabric's color. When he did recognize it, he smirked triumphantly and walked closer to Sam with laughter in his eyes.
"Sam, I hate to break it to you, but those are blue."
Sam looked down at his crotch, then back up to Blaine in disbelief.
"What?! No way! These are definitely green."
Blaine made a series of tsking noises, taking his turn to shake his head sadly.
"You're forgetting who dated Kurt. The name of that color is "pthalo" and it's technically classified as blue."
In reality there was such a color as "pthalo green" and that's probably closer to what the briefs actually were, but there was no way that Sam knew that.
"You're making that up," Sam accused.
Shrugging, Blaine responded,
"Again, dated Kurt," he pointed at himself. "I challenged his color knowledge once and he seriously threatened to burn my bow ties."
Still dismayed, Sam glanced down again at his underwear, narrowing his eyes at them as though they committed a grievous betrayal.
Seizing the moment when Sam was distracted by processing this new information, Blaine stepped closer, his facial expression toeing the line between playful and predatory. It was this look that Sam saw when he raised his face once more. He attempted to back up but didn't make it more than a foot before the back of his knees hit the bed.
Still gazing at the blonde intently, Blaine licked his lips.
"You know what this means, right?"
In the span of three seconds Sam's eyes expressed a series of emotions, finally settling on defeat. He stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest.
"Alright, man, do it. I can take it."
Blaine paused, not wanting to pounce immediately, but to draw out the anticipation and gain an element of surprise.
Finally he lurched forward, tackling Sam to the bed and squeezing a bit of flesh near Sam's hip between his thumb and forefinger.
"OUCH," Sam yelped, "no fair. That was twice as bad as I got you." He rubbed at the red mark. "You owe me another to make us even."
Because he was still straddling his prey, Blaine didn't have a chance to maneuver away before Sam dug two well-filed nails into the tender skin of his inner elbow. He was, however, fast enough to grab his attacker's wrists and pin them to the mattress.
"Oh, so that's how you want to play, Evans? Fine."
Blaine released Sam's wrists to place a well aimed pinch on his bicep. However with his hands now mobile, Sam easily gripped Blaine's arms and effortless flipped their positions. In the process Sam snapped at a momentarily exposed sliver of Blaine's torso, but failed to put the required strength behind it to do any damage. With the more muscular boy's knees on either side of him, Blaine spread his thighs to part said knees just enough to gain the upper hand. With Sam's focus on Blaine's upper body, this stunt worked, and in a flash Sam once again had his back to the blankets.
By now almost all of the papers had flown off the bed and those that remained were likely to be irreparably damaged. Blaine's careful stacks were haphazardly interspersed and his textbook slid to the floor. Neither boy noticed as they continued flailing around, wrestling and pinching, one constantly trying to incapacitate the other. Minutes passed in this fashion, the sound of creaking bed springs and the slap of hands on skin soon accompanied by grunts and heavy breathing.
While caught up in the heat of battle it took a well aimed knee brushing his groin for Blaine to realize that, somewhere along the line, he'd grown hard. Blaine's hands were held firmly above his head as Sam sat on top of him, straddling one thigh. As soon as he acknowledged his erection Blaine immediately quit struggling beneath his captor, his eyes terrified.
Though he didn't release his grip, Sam lessened the pressure considerably, looking worriedly at the boy beneath him.
"Are you ok? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Blaine couldn't find words to answer, instead he merely shaking his head. Sam continued to stare perplexedly as both boys panted in the otherwise silent room. Shifting a fraction upward, Sam's knee again made contact with the stiff cock straining against Blaine's jeans.
Without thinking Blaine ground down with a whimper, instantly regretting it when Sam's eyes widened.
"I'm sorry… maybe we should… maybe you should just," Blaine stammered.
But Sam made no movement to get up. Instead he seemed to be conducting an argument within himself, trying to make a decision. After a moment he slid down until their thighs were fully pressed together. Blaine gasped as he discovered that Sam, too, sported a hard-on.
"Me, too, bro," was all he said.
Their eyes locked as they held an unspoken conversation before beginning to move against each other. Sam was the first to begin rocking his hips experimentally, a low moan emerging from the back of his throat as he dropped his head into Blaine's neck. Hot breath ghosted against his sweaty skin and Blaine met each downward thrust eagerly. Completely unsure what the rules and boundaries were in this situation, he kept his hands placed at the small of Sam's slick back, marveling at the feeling of warm flesh. It had been so long since another boy was so physically close to him, let alone while they were both in a state of arousal.
Blaine canted his hips, twisting slightly so that his dick pressed more firmly into Sam. Taking the cue, Sam quickened his pace, grinding more insistently. His mouth dropped open fully, causing Blaine to feel the plush lips against his sensitive neck, along with every heaving breath and the vibrations from Sam's increasingly forceful moans. Each sound turned him on all the more and before he was ready Blaine felt all too close to the end of this encounter.
"Sam," he gasped, "Sam… I'm… soon…"
Rather than relenting Sam kept the brutal pace, rolling his hips in a motion so smooth and sinuous that it felt as though he were performing a strip routine while on top of another person. Blaine whined, digging his nails into the muscles of Sam's back, frantically meeting the actions above him without finesse. Unable to hold back the pleasure building inside him any longer, he spiraled into an orgasm the likes of which he hadn't experienced in months, the strength of it causing him to release a sob against Sam's shoulder.
Sam didn't stop moving, though he shifted so that he moved along Blaine's thigh without coming in to contact with the spent boy's cock. Blaine could feel the breath against his neck beginning to come in shorter pants, and through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss he knew that Sam was close. Soon after his own climax he heard a soft cry from the region of his collarbone and felt Sam's hips lose their rhythm before stilling all together.
The heavy body above him collapsed and Blaine let his hands fall to his sides as the two lay against each other for a minute, each boy drawing in much needed oxygen and willing themselves to move. Sam finally rolled off, landing right next to Blaine as they continued to regain their senses. They said nothing for what felt, to Blaine, like an eternity.
As soon as his wits returned, Blaine began to panic. What just happened? What would Sam think? What if he totally freaked out and got all weird and didn't want to be friends anymore? Blaine couldn't stand the thought of losing his best friend over something so impulsive and stupid.
"You know what, dude," Sam said, breaking the silence, "I think you just ruined St. Patrick's Day for me."
Blaine's heart sank, tears threatening to fall. However when he turned to face Sam, he saw a smile. Lips quivering, he managed to choke out,
"W-what do yo-ou mean?"
Sam released a deep sigh.
"I don't think I can pinch anyone ever again without popping a boner."
They both burst into laughter, Blaine as much in relief as amusement. As they clutched their sides when the fits refused to cease, all of Blaine's worry easily faded away. He'd always known that he was lucky to find a friend like Sam in the first place but now he knew it was trust, more than luck, which made them best friends.