Part One
Blaine is dreamy. There is no escaping the fact. Dreamy and charming and damn talented. And it makes Jesse's teeth grind.
Which it shouldn't. It really shouldn't. Jesse is in college now. He's moved on. Way on. So far on that he... secretly still follows the high school show choir circuit and top-secretly hopes that Rachel and her band of talented misfits will... well. He isn't sure how that sentence ends. Sometimes it's "fail miserably and become complete laughing stock and even bigger losers than before." And sometimes it's "succeed against all odds because they are just so dang plucky and, honestly, deserve it so much." But, either way, his obsession does not involve the Warblers and their epically dreamy lead signer.
Except sort of it does. And... once again there go Jesse's teeth. Grinding away to little nubs of frustrated nothing.
Jesse isn't sure why Kurt is suddenly there, singing in eight-part harmony with the prettiest pretty boy who ever lived, but he thinks he can use it to his advantage. If he acts. Which he isn't sure he's going to do. Because... it's so high school to have a - not a crush. Anything but that. An interest, rather, in someone just because they are dreamy and can sing better than, well, not than him. But other people. Most other people. He still has enough affection for one Rachel Berry that he would give her a slight advantage should she and the oh-so-charming Blaine face off voice-to-voice in a battle to the death over him.
Not that he ever thinks about such things. Or fantasizes about how he would comfort the loser.
Dear Lord, the things he would do. His hands and teeth and tongue would explore every inch of that tantalizingly smooth skin. And the sounds Blaine would produce... Jesse knows they would far surpass anything his rich, mellow voice has ever accomplished previously.
But, of course, theirs would be a doomed love. Two such talents could not endure a rival's presence for long: witness the tragic end to his and Rachel's love affair. Still, Jesse is sure it would be worth it. Worth the pain and humiliation, the condescending smiles and pitying looks poor, rejected Blaine would receive. And worth the all the rolling eyes and expressive sighs aimed his way as well.
If only there was some way for them to meet. Some chance encounter that didn't involve Jesse's strange, sick obsession becoming public knowledge. Some magical, wonderful way.
Perhaps at a local coffee shop on a picturesque rainy day. Blaine, in his schoolboy uniform, forlorn as he gazes out caught without raincoat or umbrella. And Jesse, consummate older man, ever-so willing to share his on the short walk to his car. Then the ride home, singing softly along with what happens to be the radio (Frank Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" would do just fine) and from there... history.
Or maybe a casual stroll down the lanes of his favorite sheet music shop would end with him winning his man. There Blaine would be, standing in front of the very section he was aiming for, dressed this time is a pair of dark, tight jeans and a loose cable knit sweater. Hunter green, with a hint of gold woven into the thread. They would reach for the same book at the same time and laugh as their hands bumped. An impromptu concert would, naturally, follow.
No. Wait. Too close to the carefully calculated "chance meeting" between him and Rachel. This meeting can bare nothing in common with that one. Not with Kurt glued so close to his dear one's side.
Ah well, Jesse is blessed with a quick and able brain. He will find some other way to make his perfect entrance. After all, fate can't be left entirely to its own devices. And meet they must.
Because Blaine is dreamy. And Jesse refuses to be doomed to dream in the shadows - no matter how his teeth may grind.
"Oh lord," Kurt says under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut dramatically.
"What?" Blaine sips on his drink and waits patiently.
"Don't look," Kurt prefaces, "but Jesse St. James is staring at you."
Blaine shrugs. "Who?"
"Jesse St. James. He's a well known rake and a cad."
"And he's looking at me?" Blaine's eyebrows raise and he swivels in his chair, searching for someone who Kurt would categorize as a rake.
Kurt lets out a put-upon sigh. "I said not to look. But since you decided to ignore my excellent advice, he's the one with the tousled curls and too much leather, leaning against the wall like he owns it."
This time Blaine spots him. He lets out a soft whistle. "A rake and a cad?"
"He broke Rachel's heart." Kurt examines his nails. "And ruined our chances at winning Regionals last year. No doubt he's up to his same tricks."
"Jesse St. James." The name rings a bell. "From Vocal Adrenaline, right?"
Kurt frowns. "Uh huh. Nasty little automatons."
"I saw them when they took Nationals. Really, really clean performers. A little lacking in soul, though."
"That's putting it mildly." Kurt spears a grape tomato viciously, then looks up and gasps. "He's coming our way," he hisses.
Blaine glances over his shoulder and confirms that, yes, Jesse St. James is coming their way. In the most ostentatious manner possible. He smiles to himself and returns back to his food.
"Kurt Hummel. I thought that was you. Change of look, I see. Very nice." Jesse St. James flashes a smile and tosses his perfectly tousled hair. "And who is your dashing young friend?"
Kurt nods acknowledgement and sniffs, disgust clearly evident. Blaine takes him time swallowing his mouthful of fries while contemplating what to do next. It's clear that Kurt does not approve of anything Jesse-St.-James related, but it would be rude to ignore him after he walked so dramatically across the room and posed so perfectly before them.
Still, he takes a nonchalant sip of his coke before answering. "I'm Blaine," he says with a slight hand gesture. "And you are?"
Jesse St. James's eyes widen and Blaine can't help but wonder if he is shocked to find someone who doesn't recognize him. "I'm Jesse. Jesse St. James. Former lead male vocalist of Vocal Adrenaline. Current lead male vocalist of the Buckeye Belters. Future Broadway star."
Blaine lets out a little chuckle. "Very impressive."
"Be gone, egotist," Kurt says, his lip curling. "We'll have none of your shenanigans."
"Now Kurt, is that anyway to treat a friend and former teammate?" Jesse St. James asks as he pulls out a chair and straddles it. He rests his chin on his hands and gives them such a woeful look that Blaine can't help but laugh. "Amused at my plight?" Jesse St. James's eyebrows quirk up.
"Amused, yes. At your plight?" Blaine shakes his head. "More at the fact that someone as flamboyant as yourself isn't on friendly terms with Kurt here." He nudges Kurt's shoulder with his own and is happy to see Kurt's sunny response, though it quickly vanishes again when Kurt glances in Jesse St. James direction.
Kurt purposefully turns his head so that he can no longer see Jesse St. James and murmurs , "Unlike some people, we do not resort to petty ploys or wreck havoc to win our competitions."
"Ah. But then, you didn't win. Merely tied."
Kurt lets out an offended huff but Blaine shrugs. "Doesn't really matter, seeing as how we are moving on. And speaking of moving on." He tosses his napkin onto his plate and pushes back his chair. "After you."
With a glorious smile, Kurt pushes back as well. "Oh do go first," he demurs. "I'd follow you anywhere."
"Aren't you precious," Blaine replies, linking his arm with Kurt as they start off. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the famous Jesse St. James scowl and something deep inside of him smiles in response.
"Jesse St. James does not lurk in food courts." Kurt's voice is tense and his hands are twitchy. "He is most definitely up to something."
Blaine gives him a reassuring smile. "It look more like lazing to me."
Kurt is not reassured at all, not judging by the way his brow is furrowed. "I don't like the way he looked at you. Like you were some sort of iced confection."
"Iced confection?" Blaine rubs his neck. "Isn't that the way iyou/i look at me?" he teases.
"I... that is... oh," Kurt stammers, his cheeks turning a furious shade of red.
Blaine steps a tad bit closer and leans in until his lips almost brush the shell of Kurt's ear. "Because I wouldn't mind if you did."
Kurt lets out a sigh and twists towards him, eyes big and full of stars. "You wouldn't?"
Blaine shakes his head. "I thought you would have caught on by now," he says as he moves a fraction closer. "I have been laying on the charm pretty thick."
"You did a duet and everything," Kurt whispers, his eyes focused on Blaine's mouth.
"I did indeed," Blaine acknowledges. He lets his hands trail slowly up Kurt's arms and then come up to cup his face.
When Kurt's eyes flutter shut, he moves in, lips pressing gently against lips, hands tugging softly at hair, until Kurt lets out a contented moan. Blaine pulls back far enough to gaze soulfully into Kurt's eyes. After what happened with that closeted asshole, Blaine wants this to be perfect. Kurt's full lips curve up into a smile, his eyes practically twinkle and Blaine lets out then breath he didn't know he was holding.
"You don't need to worry about the way that Jesse St. James character was looking at me," he says. "You're the only boy I want."
"Oh." Kurt's eyes somehow manage to get even brighter and his smile gets that much wider.
"That's right." Blaine grins. "Oh."
Jesse closes his eyes and counts to ten. Then he opens them, takes a deep breath, and glances back down at the phone in his hand. The text on the screen stays the same. He grits his teeth and forces his hand to unclench.
"Back off indeed," he mutters. "Taken. Ha. No one is ever 'taken' where I am concerned. Or at least no one stays taken."
Jesse frowns and shakes his head. This isn't the way things were supposed to go. He was supposed to chance upon Blaine in some enchanting fashion. He was supposed to shimmer and smolder and draw Blaine to him with his magnetic charm. He was most definitely inot/i supposed to be caught mooning over him in food court of the local strip mall, a place he rarely frequented and then only at his mother's behest.
But that's what had happened.
Jesse had tried to make the most of it. He tried to pull off suave and nonchalant. But somehow it had all gone to hell. First Kurt had snubbed him. Then Blaine has smirked at him. Smirked. Like he knew exactly what Jesse was up to and wasn't having any of it. And then, horror, they had up and left him before he had any chance to redeem himself. And that wasn't the worst. The worst was that Jesse had trailed after them for a short ways like some sick, sad puppy and they never once looked back.
Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. What with the creepy stalkerish following that was going on.
But that was besides the point. Blaine was supposed to look back. They always looked back. Even when they really, really hated him, they looked back. Jesse lets out a devastated sigh. And now Kurt Hummel was texting him all sorts of vaguely threatening things. Which ought to make Jesse laugh because, please. Kurt Hummel? He couldn't hurt a kitten. But instead it was making him ache all funny inside. Because it was Kurt. And Kurt had always been... accepting of him in his strange, Kurt way.
Which just meant that everything in the world was all wrong, wrong, wrong. And Jesse doesn't have a clue how in the hell to fix it.
"So are you and Kurt dating now?"
Blaine jerks back and yanks his earbuds out. His volume level is barely loud enough to hear, just enough to mute out the background noise of the park, it shouldn't have been loud enough to cover the arrival of unexpected visitors.
"St. James."
"Blaine." A small smile graces Jesse St. James's lips.
Blaine closes his book and sets it on the bench next to him. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"
The smile vanishes for a moment, then blossoms again. "The unseasonably warm weather and my love of nature in general and this park in particular."
"Uh huh." Blaine crosses his arms over his chest and levels Jesse St. James with a knowing look.
"I'm not stalking you," Jesse St. James blurts out and then flushes like mad. "Oh god. My life, it is over."
Blaine shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself. "Not even a little? Now I'm hurt."
Jesse St. James's cheeks get even redder, and he blusters a bit about god only knows what. Blaine isn't listening. He's made it his life mission never to listen when people make fools of themselves and the policy has served him well. Instead he focuses on the way Jesse's curls bounce around his face and the blue, blue of his eyes.
"Okay, let's cut to the chase," he says when he's decide that they are some of the prettiest eyes he's ever seen.
"Pardon?" Jesse St. James narrows those pretty eyes at him.
Blaine just smiles. "We both know why you are here. And, while I'm very flattered, I'm not interested. Not in you or your amazing singing voice or your skills as a spy."
"You think I have an amazing singing voice?"
"It's a fact. No way to deny it. But, like I said, not particularly interested in it either." Blaine gives him a what-can-you-do smile. "So, yeah. I think that spells it out pretty clearly."
Jesse St. James looks like someone kicked him in the shins and then stole his shiny new toy. "But why?"
"You're not a nice person." Blaine lifts a shoulder. "And I kind of care about that."
"What." His eyes flash. "Who told you that? Who dared besmirch my honor?"
Blaine laughs so hard he thinks he's going to rupture something. "Oh god, how are you even real?"
"Who! I demand satisfaction."
"The Internet," Blaine answers between laughs. "You're fellow Vocal Adrenaline teammates. Everyone in New Directions. And some old lady I saw walking down the street."
Jesse St. James tosses his head and snorts. "All bitterly jealous of my numerous accomplishments, clearly."
His answer sobers Blaine like nothing else could. "You broke an egg on your ex-girlfriend's head. And, now, I know it was Rachel Berry and she's a trip and a half, but you broke an egg on her head. And only dated her because her mother asked you to seduce her or something. Which is beyond creepy, let me tell you, and, I'm sorry, but that speaks for itself."
A frown crinkles Jesse St. James's face. "It was a team-building event," he says coolly.
"Team-building," Blaine repeats. "Yes, well that changes everything. Oh, wait. No. It doesn't. You still dated her under false pretenses, tried to get her to sleep with you when you knew you didn't love her, and gave her a crazy complex. One that I have to deal with far too often, seeing as how my boyfriend is her ex-boyfriend's step-brother. And said ex-boyfriend is still ridiculously attached to someone he supposedly no longer loves. But whatever. Way off topic. Anyway, the point is what you did was wrong on so many levels. And yeah, totally pushes you onto Santa's 'naughty' list."
"Kurt's your boyfriend?"
"You do tend to latch onto the strangest things, don't you?" Blaine gives him a sad sort of look. "Well, as lovely as this chat has been, I must be going." He shoves his iPod into his pocket and picks up his book. "Is it terribly rude to say I'd rather not bump into you again?"
Jesse swallows and shakes his head mutely.
It takes less than five minutes for Jesse's fantasy about true-but-doomed-love to shrivel and die. In their place a deep, burning loathing forms. An emotion ten times more passionate and all consuming as his love ever hoped to be. Because if there is one thing Jesse St. James excels at, it's unending hate.
