author's notes: FAKE DATING AU. thanks to xsaturated for beta-reading.
characters/pairings: Sebastian/Blaine, midgame Sam/Blaine, midgame Blaine/Hunter, minor Sebastian/Adam, Eli, The Warblers (Cronus), Karofsky, Quinn, several OCs
warnings: angst, tw: suicide, character death, explicit content, explicit language, switching POV (bracketed)
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BLOW ME (ONE LAST KISS)
part one
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It started out as a ruse.
Neither of them is sure where exactly the idea came from, but it was definitely at Blaine's suggestion.
It was a Monday. Blaine got home at 2am after a long and tedious weekend in the Hamptons, celebrating his grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. He loved his grandparents; he had fond memories of his grandfather taking him to the beach to build sandcastles, teaching him how to ride a bike and take apart a radio without being able to put it back together.
What he never enjoyed about these weekends was being poked and prodded at for three full days; when are you finally bringing a girlfriend, we all know this gay thing's a phase, why can't you be more like your brother – all his father's words. The only thing his grandmother could do was roll her eyes behind his father's back, his grandfather smiling with a wink, before a similar smile slid to a corner of his mouth; his grandparents were his only allies against his parents' disapproval of his sexuality and he loved them all the more for it, much more than he could express.
Still, the weekend wore him down. There came a point in his father's shortsightedness where the words got to him, sank underneath his skin and festered there, until infection set in and left him with a nauseating pit in his stomach.
That's why he's so glad Monday comes around, even though he has a brutal day of classes ahead, but school means coffee in the morning and a talk with his best friend and college and everything that comes with it. He won't need to be told this in years to come: he already knows his college years are the best years of his life.
"Why the long face, killer?"
He takes a deep breath and smiles; Sebastian never disappoints.
"Weekend with your parents went that well, huh?" Sebastian asks, appearing in line next to him.
"Two medium drips, please," he tells the barista, Monday mornings the only time of the week Sebastian doesn't take a shot of Courvoisier in his coffee.
He sneaks a glance at Sebastian. "They set me up again."
"You're kidding." Sebastian's tone suggests little humor; it's endowed with both the gravity and dismay he feels resting squarely on his own shoulders. He loves that about Sebastian, his pride somehow always enveloping them both, their friendship based (among other things) on mutual support and understanding.
He pays for both their coffees, a ritual they take turns with, while Sebastian grabs them some napkins, two bags of sugar, and some stirrers.
"Who was the lucky girl?" Sebastian asks once they've settled down at their usual corner table.
"Quinn Fabray," he says, the blonde coming back to life in front of his eyes.
Quinn had been in the Hamptons visiting her grandparents as well, and was roped into the blind date with the lines, 'He's a Liberal Arts major at NYU, and he's very good-looking.' Her first words to him were, 'They weren't kidding,' and he's certain he'd blushed.
And Quinn was stunning; he could never deny that. His problem with girls wasn't so much that he didn't think them kind and sensitive or their bodies beautiful, but rather his inability to see them as sexually interesting. He loves girls, he has plenty of female friends he confesses his fondness to all the time, but he could never love them the way his father hoped he would.
He'd told her this right after they placed their orders at the restaurant, though in slightly nicer terms. Quinn had released a breath, huffed a, 'Thank God' and told him she was sick and tired of being set up with rich douchebags who only stared at her boobs and couldn't form a correct English sentence. He assured her he was decidedly not a douchebag (or so he liked to believe), had no interest in her breasts, and that he was quite eloquent when he needed to be. The direct result of their date was, once again, a friendship he'll be maintaining for a while to come, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
"Fabray Motors, Quinn Fabray?" Sebastian asks.
He nods, distracted by the sudden surge of heat coming from his coffee cup.
"You know if you marry that girl you'd be set for life."
He sighs deeply, too frustrated to laugh. "I swear to God, ever since–"
He doesn't say it; Kurt is one thing they've decided never to talk about – Sebastian hated Kurt the moment they were introduced and near the end of their one-year relationship even he was left to wonder how he'd been so blind. Any love that had existed between them had been extinguished slowly by Kurt's continual dismissal of his feelings, his assumption that he would be there for him day and night but couldn't be bothered to do the same, and the frankly arrogant tone Kurt addressed him with any time he perceived he'd been wronged in some way.
But ever since their break-up his parents had seen hope; they'd counted on his broken heart to entangle with the realization that dating boys would cause him nothing but heartache, but unfortunately (for his parents) that wasn't the way it worked. His heart got broken, the break-up painful and messy, some guy named Chandler suddenly more important to Kurt than anything he could offer, and Kurt hadn't even blinked when he got accused of cheating.
It was hard for him to recognize he'd been taken for granted in their relationship, but it was surprisingly easy to walk away from Kurt.
"You can hardly blame them for trying to set up one of Manhattan's most eligible," Sebastian says, (purposely trying to steer the conversation onto another topic. Blaine never says Kurt's name to spare him, to make sure Kurt never comes between them again like he managed two years ago, taking but never giving anything back. He'd seen it right away, maybe because at the end of the day that's how he treated his own boyfriends, but that's not the kind of boyfriend Blaine needed. Or deserved.)
Blaine shifts to the edge of his chair. "I've been thinking," he says, having turned over the idea in his head a few times now, and this weekend had reaffirmed his need for his life to take a different turn. "I want to invoke the code."
A smile slowly creeps across Sebastian's features. "Careful, Anderson, you're starting to sound like a Cronus guy." (He's teasing, but he's so intrigued that he doesn't take it any further - Blaine joined Cronus at his insistence and participated in most of their activities, but he'd never used his connection to Cronus to get him anywhere. Blaine preferred working hard over getting the answers from his fellow Cronus members and he respects that. So what reason could Blaine have to invoke their code now?)
"How can I help a brother out?" Sebastian asks.
"I think," he starts carefully, thus far undecided on how he should word it, and that's why it comes out wrong at first, "–for our own sanity's sake, we should date."
He takes a breath.
"Pretend!" he exclaims once he's run through his own words again. "We should pretend to date."
Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up.
"Think about it," he says, "There'd be no more blind dates, no more awkward first meetings, no more questions."
Sebastian's eyes narrow on his face. He swallows hard; he didn't really think this through in detail. All he knows is that Sebastian's his best friend and his parents have been setting him up with girls too – in fact Sebastian's mom probably got the idea from his. Sebastian's as tired as he is of his parents' constant insistence that straight is the only way to live. And Cronus was all about brothers helping brothers. So where's the harm?
"You wants us to pretend to be boyfriends to fool our parents," Sebastian says.
"Didn't you go out with that Lopez girl three times to shut your mother up?"
"Fair point," Sebastian says matter-of-factly, (not the least bit embarrassed that Blaine knows he can't say no to his mother. "But she was great fun," he adds. After finding out that Santana was forced into the date for the same reasons –her sin being blondes with long legs– he hadn't seen any trouble in hanging out with her at least a few times. And that girl could hold her liquor.)
"We already go to the same parties," he says. "Now we'd just go there together."
Sebastian chuckles. "And you could be my designated driver."
He frowns.
Sebastian arches an eyebrow. "We both know you can't handle alcohol."
He laughs. "See? Nothing but perks."
Sebastian stares down at his coffee, seemingly losing himself in thought. (It's not that it sounds like a horrible idea. It's perfect in theory; they already know each other as well as two people can know each other and it would be one sure-fire way to get two sets of parents off their backs. But even if they were pretending, being boyfriends was a whole different thing than being friends.
"Come on, Smythe," Blaine insists. "We're friends. It's not like I'm asking you out."
No, Blaine's asking him for something else altogether; he loves Blaine, everyone and their mother knows that, but this could backfire fast. Then again, it won't be permanent, and Blaine had been oddly specific about why he was doing this – Blaine likes girls fine, but there comes a point where he needs to be able to date whoever the hell he wants. And if he can provide the first step towards that, fine, he'll help his best friend out.
"Alright," he caves. "We'll try it your way."
Blaine raises his coffee in a toast and taps it against his.
"After all, the code must be honored.")
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Blaine Anderson meets Sebastian Smythe at the young age of three months, when the newborn Sebastian is placed in his crib next to him for naptime. Their mothers are old friends who became inseparable in high school, both married wealthy, both ended up living in Manhattan, and by some miraculous stroke of luck had even managed to get pregnant around the same time.
It was inevitable, then, that their sons would grow up together too.
The two boys do everything together, despite their differing personalities; Blaine sleeps on his tummy and Sebastian on his back, Blaine sits still when his mom feeds him his meals while Sebastian flings his food right back, and Blaine's a crybaby while Sebastian's a solid sleeper, even though in a waking state Blaine's a lot more capable of playing quietly with some lettering blocks or a book he can't read yet. Sebastian's a tomboy the moment he's able to stand on his own two feet.
They go to the same pre-school and the same kindergarten, where Sebastian sticks up for Blaine when the other children tease him about his glasses. Blaine's all giggles when Sebastian gets his own glasses a few years later, but he's never teased about it.
Sebastian's parents throw in the towel on their marriage when he's eight years old. It doesn't matter to him; they've been shouting abuse at each other for years now and frankly he's tired of waking up in the middle of the night to hear his mom crying, and his father sitting at the end of his bed asking where he went wrong. Blaine will still crawl into his bed at night whenever he hears him having a nightmare, a guarding presence in his darkest moments.
Once they hit high school they both prove to be academically achieving, but whereas Blaine most often than not will have his nose buried in a book, Sebastian will be out on the field with his lacrosse buddies. They do homework together and go to the same parties, and Blaine's popular because Sebastian is. They make an odd pair, anyone will agree, but they never stray far from each other. Blaine's at every single one of Sebastian's games and Sebastian shows his support whenever Blaine gives a speech for student council.
Sebastian is the first person Blaine tells that he's attracted to boys, and Sebastian feels a great sense of relief, because he's been walking around with the same secret, afraid to tell anyone, but Blaine makes it easy for him to confess. They tell Sebastian's parents first, then Blaine's, and find support with each other when both sets of parents are less than thrilled about the news. But while Blaine often cries alone at night, Sebastian accepts these are the cards he's been dealt, and there's little he can do to change it.
Neither of them had the intention of attending the same college, but that's sort of how it turns out when they both decide they don't want to leave New York, and their parents don't really want to let them go either.
They stick close to home, much to their later regret, but mostly they stick with each other.
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Telling people that they're dating, whether it's the truth about their arrangement or the lie, turns out to be nerve-wracking. Sebastian would say otherwise because he's not generally the kind of guy to worry, but Blaine turns jittery every time he thinks about telling his parents that night. He and Sebastian agreed that for their parents to be convinced it would take a little more than attending the same parties together, so Sebastian had suggested that they go to the restaurant opening on Fifth and Lexington and make a show of it.
He couldn't really disagree; the restaurant was co-owned by the mother of one of their mutual friends, Marley Rose, and they'd had to swear hands on their hearts that they'd come.
"Blaine, honey, where are you going?" his mom asks as soon as he hits the bottom step of the stairs. His parents are curled up on the couch in the living room, watching some Swedish or Danish crime drama together – it's their regular date night and he can tell his mother got to pick the program that evening. Not that he'd ever heard his father complain.
"Out with Sebastian," he says, his parents' focus divided between him and the television somehow making it easier for him to say.
"Where?" his mom asks, hugging a big bowl of popcorn in her arms.
"To the Medusa?" He swallows hard. "The new restaurant."
His father looks at him. "You're going out to dinner?"
"Yeah, it's–" He clears his throat. Moment of truth. "It's kind of a date."
His mom blinks up at him, eyes wide and all her attention directed at him now, the television forgotten.
"A date with Sebastian?" his dad asks, his voice louder somehow and he dreads what's coming next. "Blaine, you–"
But he never does find out what his dad's objection to Sebastian is – his mother swats at his father's arm, hisses 'Philip' as a means to silence him before smiling up at him.
This is why it had to be Sebastian.
"Better hurry up then," his mom says, voice barely disguising her excitement. "Just remember you have–"
"–brunch at the Berry house," he supplies, and nods. Like Rachel would ever let him forget. It was Rachel's way of thanking him for tutoring her boyfriend Jesse. "I know, mom."
His mom stares at him lovingly. "Have fun, sweetheart."
His mouth quirks sideways with unease and he raises a hand in a half-hearted wave, making his way outside. Maybe he should feel sad, maybe his mother's knee jerk reaction to him dating Sebastian should put him in a tailspin of doubt and hurt because how can she accept him dating Sebastian but not any other boys? But the point of this charade was to get a little more leeway to date who he wants, to make his own choices free of his parents' incessant nagging, and pretending to date the one boy who's always been in his life was the perfect ruse.
Sebastian's waiting for him downstairs, leaning back against his black Mercedes Benz, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets. "And?"
"Worked like a charm."
(They share a smile, and as Blaine's rounding the car to get to the passenger side door he catches a glimpse of Blaine's mom in the window on the first floor. "Hang on," he says and sprints after Blaine.
Blaine halts in his tracks before figuring out he's reaching for the door. "Sebastian, you don't have to–" Blaine starts with a chuckle, but he invades his personal space and it stops Blaine talking.
"Your mom's watching," he explains, leaning in even closer, until their chests are almost touching, and he can whisper in Blaine's ear. He hopes that from the first floor window it looks like a kiss on the cheek; not that he'd have any issues kissing Blaine, even on the lips. But Blaine's a lot more withholding in his physical affection.)
"Get in the car, killer," Sebastian whispers, breath hot against his ear, and it's not in the least uncomfortable; they've been up close and personal like this on countless occasions, both as children and teenagers and no one ever made a big deal out of it, least of all them. Now it seemed neither did their mothers.
He chuckles and gets in the car, Sebastian closing the door for him. He watches Sebastian make his way around the car, waving up at his mother and he shakes his head; their mothers will be calling each other any minute now.
This is why it had to be Sebastian.
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Their brothers, surprisingly, don't even laugh when they hear about their arrangement. They've all known Blaine and Sebastian long enough, know their background the way that only brothers can, and so they understand why they'd both be so willing to fake a relationship. For years Cronus has had a zero-tolerance policy against bullying and neither Sebastian nor Blaine can deny that was one of the reasons they'd agreed to join in the first place.
The only reason there'd been so many jokes when Nick and Jeff started dating was because the two of them had been so ignorant throughout their freshman year that it had taken a few nudges and an elaborate prank to get the two of them together. And Mike Chang, head of Cronus before Sebastian, had agreed that having a gay couple in the club raised their social standing considerably; the new head of the fraternity dating another member –even if it was pretend– could only lower the threshold for fearful freshmen even further.
The only one who cracks a joke is Karofsky, right before Rich grabs him in a headlock and tells him to take it back.
Which he does, laughing out loud.
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"A toast!" Sebastian calls, raising his beer above his head, the rest of the room following suit.
They went all out for Karofsky's goodbye party, all of them pitching in to pay for the venue, the DJ and the booze. One of their friends getting recruited by a renowned talent scout to go play for one of the biggest football teams in the state didn't happen every day.
As the head of Cronus Sebastian felt it was his duty to make a speech before everyone got too drunk to remember why they were there in the first place, and Sebastian took his role as leader very seriously. He's standing next to Sebastian in the bar, kind of as his unnamed second in command, surrounded by their brothers and their girlfriends, some of Karofsky's classmates, and some friends from back home.
"To the finest right guard McKinley High has ever known," Sebastian says once he's drawn all the focus in the room.
"Boo!" someone calls, and a wave of laughter spreads through the room.
"To the most obnoxious drunk," Sebastian says.
"Right after Blaine!" Karofsky provides.
"Right after Blaine," Sebastian concurs. He glares up at Sebastian, but doesn't protest; he does get a tad unpredictable when he drinks too much. "And to one of the finest brothers this club has ever known. He will be sorely missed, but he's going to kick ass."
"He better!" Rich shouts.
He raises his glass a few inches higher. "Hear hear!"
"Hear hear!" the rest of the room joins in, most of them downing their beers in a few gulps.
Karofsky makes his way over to him. "Hey man," he says, keeping his usual distance.
They've been close friends for two years now and Karofsky still acts like they've just met, a nervous smile playing around his mouth, eyes never quite settling, and his hands wringing around his bottle of beer. "I wanted to thank you for all your time and patience."
"No problem, man." He smiles, because Karofsky has thanked him plenty for tutoring him. It makes him good money, and as far as his 'students' went, Karofsky was one of the brighter ones - he only needed to apply himself. "I was happy to help."
"I'm serious," Karofsky insists. "I wouldn't have gotten this far without you. You've been a real friend."
"Dave," he says, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in: Karofsky's saying goodbye knowing they might not have many opportunities to see each other again. He's happy and proud that Karofsky's gotten this chance, he's worked hard and it's paid off, but he's going to miss his friend. It can't be easy for Karofsky to leave behind all that's familiar.
"We're brothers," he adds, hoping to show Karofsky that they'll be here for him whenever he needs someone. "What are brothers for?"
But when he looks up there are tears in Karofsky's eyes and he can imagine his conflict: the excitement of getting this amazing opportunity mixed with fear of the unknown – that's enough to make anyone cry at their goodbye party.
"You'll do fine, you big dork," he says, reaching an arm up to squeeze Karofsky's shoulder. "And you know we'll all be there for your first game."
Before either of them can respond Sebastian joins them and throws an arm around Karofsky's shoulders. "Enough with the sentimentality," Sebastian says, even though he doesn't mean it. "We're here to have fun. And we're still stuck with him all week."
Karofsky wanders around the rest of the room, stopping to talk with someone every once in a while, thanking people, hugging his brothers, someone handing him a fresh supply of beer whenever his last bottle threatens to empty.
He spends some time talking to the guys, before sitting down at one of the tables lining the walls, watching everyone have a good time. He and Sebastian had been on their feet all day, putting the finishing touches to this party. It's a mystery how Sebastian's still standing.
"You're in Cronus too?" a voice sounds next to him, and he feels the distinct slide of another body coming closer to him, a whiff of air to his left.
He blinks and turns his head, met by two bright green eyes and a nice head of blond hair once he manages to tear his eyes away from the fullest lips he's ever seen. "Hi," he breathes, head finally catching up with whatever else he'd been thinking with. "Yeah."
"I'm Sam." The boy in front of him smiles. "Sam I am. But I don't like green eggs and ham."
He chuckles, unable to contain the reaction, but he figures that was the point of the joke. "Blaine," he says, and makes a half turn to face Sam.
"Your boyfriend sure knows how to give a speech."
"Oh, he's not–"
He laughs, because he didn't think he'd have to explain this to anyone so soon. Explaining sort of beat the whole purpose of pretending in the first place, but it happens too fast for him to consider anything else.
"You're fake-dating your best friend?" Sam's eyes narrow on his face in question.
He chuckles. "It sounds silly when you say it like that."
"No, I get it," Sam says. "You want the freedom to date who you want."
He nods, grateful Sam doesn't see it as some overly convoluted plot to hide from the world.
"I'm a lucky guy."
He bites at his lip and blushes, quickly taken by Sam's easy charm.
It turns out that Sam is an old buddy of Karofsky's from McKinley High – he attends community college back in Ohio but he was in town to visit an uncle and that's when it becomes clear to him why Sebastian had insisted the party had to be this week, and not closer to when Karofsky was leaving. Sebastian doesn't like people to think he's sentimental, but he clearly had them all fooled.
He talks to Sam for the rest of the night; Sebastian's on the dance floor and most of the other guys seem to be entertaining themselves so he doesn't think it's impolite to seclude himself. Sam starts doing impressions close to midnight and he's in stitches for the better part of an hour, Sam's smile infectious, his impressions dead on. They fall into nerd talk (Sebastian's words) about Wolverine and Cyclops and somewhere somehow Sam's lips end up on his, and he melts forward against them, so soft and so full, taste like strawberry chapstick.
He closes his eyes and licks at those amazing lips, his tongue settling against Sam's moments later, and he could do this forever, drown in the gentle back and forth of kisses and tongues, the uncomplicated caress of a hand down his chest, one slipping underneath his shirt. Sam's abs feel like they've been sculpted, and gosh, he goes hot all over. He's kissed other boys but it's been so long, too long to go without this, and deep down he realizes he's always understood why Sebastian doted out his physical affection so freely.
They make out forever, tucked away safely in their little booth where no one disturbs them, and don't say another word until the party starts winding down, when Sam points out his uncle would worry if he stayed out all night.
Sam gives him his number, so they can meet up one of the following days, and leaves him laughing at a Terminator impression.
("He was cute," he tells Blaine later, once the party's over and everyone's gone home. He'd given Blaine a wide berth of space the entire night, seemingly enjoying himself with that boy from Ohio, and once the kissing had started, well, Blaine could handle himself from there. He already knew Blaine had game.
Blaine has a goofy smile plastered across his face and it takes him all his strength not to poke fun. This was the point of it all, of their pretending, make Blaine feel safe enough to put himself out there without needing to worry about his parents. And Blaine had called him crazy for organizing the party a full week ahead of schedule.
"He was, wasn't he?" Blaine sighs contently.
He throws an arm around Blaine, one of Blaine's around his waist, and they make their way to his dorm room in silence. Blaine still lives with his parents, but it's too late to stumble home right now, and it's too far anyway. Dating, even fake dating, entailed staying over at his boyfriend's place from time to time, even if Blaine would be sleeping on the small pullout couch.
As far as arrangements went, he had to admit, there's no one else this could've worked with but Blaine.)
.
.
Two days later, he shows Sam some of his favorite places in New York; this cute café Rachel takes him to all the time, where NYADA students come out to hang and sing songs; a bunch of thrift stores he'd once spend a weekend exploring with Sugar that had the coolest things at reasonable prices, and they visit the Empire State Building because it's Sam's first time in New York and he wouldn't want to deny him the view.
They laugh at each other's jokes over lunch, stop by a comic book store, and when he catches Sam's eyes over a copy of a vintage The Avengers comic something hot settles in his stomach; Sebastian had lent him his dorm room and he doesn't want to assume that Sam's game for another make-out session, but one look at those lips makes any apprehension fall away.
"I have somewhere–" he stutters, cheeks flushing hot at his own ineloquence. "–we can be alone?"
Sam's smile puts him at ease. "Let's go."
And before he knows it they're settled on Sebastian's bed, shoulders to the wall, lips locked, knees barely touching. It's as amazing as he remembers, Sam's full lips moving against his and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about them all over his body, that spot behind his ear, down his collarbone, his nipples, down to his bellybutton – heat rushes down his spine and he goes hard in his pants.
One of Sam's hands curls around his hip and tugs gently, urging him to come closer. Sam opens his legs and he slides his between with little effort, each of his legs lying interspersed with one of Sam's.
Sam grows bolder and trails kisses down his cheek, his jawline, finding that sensitive spot he'd fantasized about; his stomach flutters, hard-on straining against the fabric of his pants, and oh God, he could get off doing this alone. His hips buck involuntarily, cock rutting against the inside of Sam's thigh.
Sam pulls back at the sensation, and just when he fears he's royally screwed up Sam asks: "Do you have condoms?"
His mouth goes dry.
"I–" He swallows hard, reaching to remember what are condoms? until his brain catches up.
"Oh," he breathes. "Yeah," and then he's scrambling up from the bed to dig around Sebastian's bedside drawer, praying to whatever deity will listen that Sebastian remembered to stock up. Half his brain expects to find a box of condoms with a post-it note attached to it from Sebastian, but luckily his best friend had chosen to spare him that.
He'll be the first to admit that maybe he's a little too enthused when he finally unearths a strip of condoms from the drawer and holds it up, but his cock's trapped painfully hard in his trousers and why does he even bother with these kinds of pants? But he knows why he does; it's because when he turns around Sam fails to disguise that he was most definitely checking out his ass and liked what he saw.
Only when he turns around he's also struck by the sudden awkward of it all; they're about to have sex in his fake boyfriend's dorm room, who'd took the night out to go to the gym and have dinner with his mother so as not to disturb them.
"We don't have to–" he starts, but is stopped by a boyish smile that almost literally spells out yeah, dude, we really do. Instead of being a dude Sam grabs his hips and pulls him back down onto the bed.
And really, why insist on chivalry when Sam has the lips of a Greek god – hell if he knows what that even means, but soon Sam's lips close around his cock and his nerves snap, his head falls back in the mattress and his eyes drift closed, one hand winding automatically in Sam's gold honey hair, a shuddered groan scraping at his throat.
His hips buck and he hears Sam gag a little, but it's interrupted by a moan. He forces himself to look down, Sam's lips wrapped ruby red around his hard-on, the sight almost enough to make him come. But then he notices Sam's body's moving too and when he raises himself on his elbows, he sees one perfect white ass, Sam fucking himself against the sheets.
He tugs helplessly at Sam's hair while his head bobs up and down his length, his mouth a hard pressure, sucking hard. Sam adds a hand, playing with his balls before fisting around the base of his cock and he loses it, coming in Sam's mouth in hot spurts.
"God, Blaine," Sam moans, nuzzling at his hipbone, angling his hips against the mattress.
His cock twitches.
"Let me see you," he pants, losing his voice. "Sam, I want to see you."
Sam whines but raises himself up over him. He doesn't hesitate to close a hand around Sam's cock, hot and heavy in the palm of his hand, slick with precome all over. He lets Sam fuck himself in his hand, adding pressure whenever he strokes forward, eliciting desperate moans that make his delicious lips part in a gasp. Sam comes undone all over his chest, come splattering down on his skin, dripping over his fist.
Sam crashes down, knocking the breath right out of him, heavier than he thought he'd be.
"Sam," he croaks, but Sam gets the picture pretty quickly and slides off, both of them settling on their side.
"That was nice," Sam whispers.
"Yeah, it was," he whispers too, licking at Sam's lips, and they lose themselves in another match of lazy kissing.
It's dark by the time Sam makes it out of the bathroom and says he should probably head home. He pulls his shirt back on but he smiles at Sam, walks over and kisses him, drawing his hands down his torso, reimagining the outlines of Sam's impressive abs.
"Later, alligator," Sam says, his dude-ness back in full swing and disappears through the door.
He sighs contently, nearly breaking out in a full-on Singing In The Rain routine, but he controls himself.
He texts Sebastian a brief 'Coast is clear. B.', changes the sheets, and cracks a window, padding downstairs barefoot to wash the sheets he and Sam violated. There's a grin pulling at his mouth the entire time, even as his eyes follow the twirls of the tumbler-dryer.
He's never felt more free, more alive, than right at this moment. He's pretty sure this would've happened regardless of his arrangement with Sebastian, but his parents hadn't uttered a word about blind dates or girls for nearly a month now and combined with the night he had – yeah, if he had an umbrella he'd be dancing right now.
.
.
Saying goodbye to Sam turns out to be harder than he thought; he knew they did what they did because they didn't have much time and there was nothing wrong with enjoying each other's company to the fullest while they could, but he made a friend in Sam, and it's difficult to see him go.
Sam pulls him into a hug right outside his uncle's house; it's a crushing weight but this time he doesn't complain. He's going to miss Sam.
"Maybe next time I'm in New York and we're both still single we can–" Sam voice trails off, uncertain on what he's allowed to imply at this point.
He smiles, "I'd love that," even though he has little hope of ever seeing Sam again.
He waves at the car until Sam's out of sight and gets back into his own. He doesn't feel like going home to an empty house and work for school, so he texts Sebastian to ask if he can come over, a positive answer coming seconds later.
He doesn't knock before entering Sebastian's room, he simply strolls in, Sebastian seated on his bed to the left side of the room, leaning back against the wall with his legs propped up, books splayed open to his right, a notebook in his lap.
"Everything okay?" Sebastian asks, eyes following him across the room.
"Yeah," he sighs, but doubts he sounds convincing, and sits down in Sebastian's desk chair. He pivots a few times before stilling, only to find Sebastian still staring at him.
"Come here." Sebastian pats the bed to his left.
He drags himself over, not the least bit ashamed of how childish he's acting and sits down cross legged next to Sebastian. Sebastian's hand settles at the small of his back seconds later, drawing circles.
"There'll be other blonde adonises, you know," Sebastian says.
"I know." He shrugs, scratching the back of his head. "But I liked this one," he says, a nonchalance to his tone that proves he's being sulky. He knew what he was getting into when he met Sam, and dwelling on what-could-have-been will do him no good at all. So he decides it was enough, he had a good time with a great guy, uncomplicated and fun, unburdened by his parents for the first time in his life.
He leans back against the wall, Sebastian reclaiming his hand, and starts reading along with what Sebastian's writing. From what he can gather after reading a few lines it's a paper on copyright law. "You misspelled acquiesce," he says, eyes catching on the word, pointing it out even though Sebastian's spellcheck would probably correct it later.
"Thank you, Mr Anderson," Sebastian says, completely unironic, underlining the word two times. He's not sure why Sebastian insists on writing out his papers, rather than type them up on his computer; it has to be far less time consuming. But despite Sebastian's free spirit and 21st century perspective on a whole lot of matters, he can be so incredibly old-fashioned about other things. Sebastian might get that from him.
"We going out tonight?" Sebastian asks.
"How about dinner and a movie instead?" he suggests, not really in the mood to interact with a whole lot of people. "My treat."
Sebastian smiles without looking up from his notes. "Sounds great."
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They settle into a steady routine: Sebastian picks him up, kisses him on the cheek whenever his mother's watching, and he sleeps over on Sebastian's silly little couch from time to time. The ruse works like a charm. Neither of their mothers give a peep, even though there's a distinct possibility they're already planning their wedding, but the silence is golden and a nice relief from their usual prying. Sebastian's father isn't around enough to spew his opinion and his father remains silent under his mother's influence, he suspects.
Sebastian hooks up with a few guys at Scandals, but from experience he's learned they're always one-night things. The only guy Sebastian hooks up with regularly is Adam, and that's only because the two of them used to date and figured out they were much better at the physical side of a relationship than being in love. Adam spends most of the year in London, but when he's in New York he spends his nights in Sebastian's bed.
He, in the meantime, flirts relentlessly, grinds up to some guy named Tucker at Scandals and they fool around in the backroom, but he ends up going home with Sebastian. There's a medical student named James he goes out with twice, but dinner and a movie and some seriously sloppy sex at his apartment later they part ways.
Ford, skinny as he is, has the body of an artist–he's skin over bones and he can count his ribs through his skin, but his lean fingers and hands carve him out like he's a sculpture, reaching inside him deeper than anyone has ever managed, winding him up until the early hours of the dawn before he finally lets him climax and Ford licks through the mixture of their come on his chest. It doesn't last more than a week, Ford's too esoteric even for his taste, and he suspects he gets high on something he doesn't want people to know about.
He won't deny it's the most fun he's ever had, though. He and Sebastian are both having the time of their lives and even Sebastian agrees this might be the best idea he ever had.
.
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The first time his mom asks Sebastian over for dinner he almost loses it, sees their entire charade crumble to pieces right in front of his eyes because surely they'll notice, they'll see that they're the exact same goofs they've always been and aren't remotely dating.
He doesn't want it to be over, not after tasting this kind of freedom. Sebastian massages at his shoulders until he's calmed down, assuring him that his mother loves him, that they've never seen him with a boyfriend because they've never invited any of his other boyfriends over, so they won't know what to look for. If anything this proves their ruse is working, and his parents are willing to make a concession for the boy that pretty much grew up in their house too.
"I'm insulted this hasn't happened sooner," Sebastian says, lips at his ear. "We've been dating for almost three months."
He smiles and drops his head back to Sebastian's shoulder, letting Sebastian massage at the knots in his shoulders, effectively chasing away his stress.
Once the dinner comes around, Sebastian shows up on his doorstep in a new suit, that stupid-ass grin on his face, and a bouquet of flowers for his mother.
He shakes his head. "You're impossible," he says, hearing the steady tap of his mother's heels behind him.
Sebastian kisses him on the cheek. "If anyone asks, that's why you fell in love with me," he whispers and winks down at him.
As the night progresses he has no idea why he was worried. Sebastian was right; his mother loves him, his father loves him, Sebastian's been coming by since he was born, grew up in these same rooms, sat at this dinner table on countless occasions.
He loves Sebastian, he knew that on the day Sebastian's mom took them both to the optometrist and the doctor told Sebastian he'd have to wear glasses too. He'd almost fallen off his chair laughing, his own glasses crooked on his nose, because Sebastian had been secretly jealous he looked more like Clark Kent than he did. Now they could both be Superman.
By the end of the night they're all laughing because Sebastian has always been this guy, to him and to his parents. The only thing that's different is that Sebastian has an arm thrown around his shoulder, teases at his leg underneath the table for effect, and leans over to kiss his temple right before dessert.
It doesn't mean anything, except that they're best friends who would grant each other the world if they could.
.
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And then comes the day that everything changes.
They find out during one of their assemblies, going over the activities calendar, dividing assignments and generally goofing around. It's a day like any other, the sun is out, Jeff sits lounged back against Nick's chest and Sebastian's hovering close to him.
Thad's phone beeps with a Facebook alert and from the way his face falls the group becomes instantly aware that something is very very wrong.
"Karofsky's dead," he whispers.
"What?" Rich asks, and no one's too sure if he asks because he honestly didn't hear or because he believes his ears deceive him.
"He–he killed himself," another voice sounds and every head turns, Trent standing in a corner of the room with his phone in hand. "My mom just texted me."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sebastian asks, but there's confusion riddled across everyone's faces and soon the entire society's texting or calling or IM'ing someone who might have more information.
He reaches his mom ten minutes later and she's crying, so hard she hardly gets a word out, but he doesn't need a detailed explanation to figure out what happened: someone on Karofsky's prestigious new team had found out he was gay and spread the news around everywhere, news sites had picked it up and it'd made its way to his parents and all his friends from back home in a matter of hours.
And he'd killed himself.
Gravity pulls him towards the floor, so he's grateful that there's a set of arms that directs him safely into a chair, though he's not sure who it is; the world has blurred around him, all rational and logic gone, stripped down to the cold hard place so many gay youth think it is.
Dave was gay?
Why hadn't he come to them?
It's Sebastian who navigates everyone out of the room, cutting their meeting short, waiting for everyone else to leave before tending to him. Sebastian tries to find his eyes, calls out his name a few times, but what can he possibly say that won't make the pain worse, that will take the hazy sheen of disconnect?
Sebastian drives him home, where he falls into his mother's arms and cries for a very long while, and during that very long while he's that little boy who worships his mother, who doesn't yet have the weight of incomprehension separating him from the woman who's supposed to love him regardless of his sexuality, and he holds on for dear life. He needs unbridled comfort, because everything has stopped making sense.
His father says nothing; no doubt he has his opinion on the snivelling son running for safety in his mother's arms, but he was close to Dave's father, and when it really comes down to it his father's love for him is greater than his disapproval. He feels his father sit down behind him, a hand on his shoulder moments later. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, locking out everything that isn't his parents' comfort.
.
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All activities are suspended for a week, the society's gatherings only revolving around how they can help the Karofskys out in this difficult time and helping them arrange the funeral service. He becomes disconnected from it all, and if it weren't for Sebastian he wouldn't be here at all this week. The thought that it could easily have been him, Sebastian, Nick or Jeff, Sam–it keeps him up at night, whatever sleep he does manage plagued with nightmares of being trapped in an endless room all alone, no doors or windows, not a person in sight, only a void white space that doesn't end.
.
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Sebastian recites something at the funeral, a beautifully voluminous speech, the basics of which he'd used at Dave's goodbye-party. It makes people laugh and it makes people cry, and it's exactly what it should be–Sebastian's had a talent for words ever since he was a little boy and there are moments, stubbornly rare and few, that he knows exactly how to use them.
(Blaine's a small mess when he finds him outside on the terrace, everyone inside still reminiscing, bringing back memories of Karofsky so he can stay alive in their minds. It's a strange thing, mourning, conjuring the image of a person and suddenly even their harder sides become endearing too because that was so like him, wasn't it?
His heart beats raw in his chest, Blaine's mental absence this week harder on him than he thought it would be. He's been running on empty without his best friend and he'd really like him back. But that might still be a while.
Blaine struggles with this much more than he does, having grown up in the shadow of an older brother who was everything his parents hoped he'd be: good-looking, successful, straight, and somehow Blaine tries hard to live up to that. Sadly no one can live up to a sexual preference, yet Blaine tried to make up for that too, trading in the bowties he wore as a boy for bland one-color shirts whenever he wasn't wearing his Dalton get-up, getting better grades than Cooper (which wasn't that hard), becoming successful at everything Cooper was and wasn't.
But it was a constant struggle because the one thing his parents wanted changed he couldn't even bring himself to try.
Blaine turns when his footsteps resound on the tiles, but doesn't say a word. His hazel eyes aren't as bright as they usually are and the corners of his mouth have been downturned for the better part of a week–the only thing that had brought back the hint of a smile was his speech earlier, and he hopes that Blaine knows he wrote that speech for him, not for all the other people there.
"Did you know?" he asks, without a specific goal in mind, but it's too silent and somehow the air feels sad as well, dark and slow-moving, everything weighed down by Karofsky's absence.
Blaine sniffles. "No."
"I wish he'd told us," he says, moving to stand next to Blaine, but as soon as he does Blaine pulls inside himself, head down, chin to his chest, and his body shakes with a sob.
He raises a hand to Blaine's back.
"I'm sorry." Blaine draws in a shuddery breath. "I thought I was–"
"Do you want to be alone?" he asks, even though there's not a fibre in his body that could leave Blaine right now.
"No." Blaine shakes his head, tears rolling down his cheeks and his body making a half turn towards him. "No."
After years of being best friends he does it instinctively, reaching his arms around Blaine in a hug. Blaine shakes against him and his heart clenches in his chest. "I got you," he says, almost losing control over his voice because it's the first time he allows himself to feel it too. Karofsky's gone, and what the hell for? He took one step into the big bad world and got cut down for who he was, for who he fell in love with.
He wishes Karofsky had told them, then maybe he could've gotten comfortable with himself first before the pressure of a professional football career forced him back in the closet. Maybe if they'd been paying closer attention, if he'd been the leader he strived to be then maybe–no, it's no good to think like this.
"It's okay," he says, not sure who he's talking to.
"It's not okay," Blaine cries, face twisting into his shoulder, fingers digging into his back. "It's not okay, Sebastian."
No, it's not okay, but he wishes he could make it better.)
Sebastian drives him home, neither of them speaking. Buildings hurtle by behind the window, filled with faceless people who might be as sad as him right now, or not sad at all, living their own lives without knowing the world is short one obnoxious drunk, a fine brother, an amazing football player. His friend.
He doesn't want to think about where he'd be without Sebastian, who he'd be without Sebastian, if he would've ever had the courage to come out, to kiss that first set of boy lips. In another world Dave's fate could've been his and it's left him crippled; he hasn't been there for Sebastian, hasn't been the friend he should be, hasn't stopped to consider how Sebastian might be feeling. Because Sebastian only hides it better.
Sebastian parks the car and they both get out, heading for the front door. He fiddles with his keys, but can't bear to go inside yet. Inside it's empty, his parents still at the Karofskys and he's still bleeding too openly to be okay on his own.
"Are you going to be okay?" Sebastian tunes into his train of thought, a hand on his shoulder for comfort. He likes what Sebastian's simple touch manages to do to him, relax a part of him that's been knotted together in the hopes it'll keep him from falling apart, the same part that turns in on itself when things get too rough, the part that's kept Sebastian at a distance all week. But here he is nonetheless.
He looks up at Sebastian, into the green eyes he knows like no other, and he's hit with a lightning thought: what if Sebastian could help him with something more than a touch?
"Sebastian," he whispers, staring up at the boy who's heard all his secrets, has seen him at his best and his worst, who knows he shouldn't be alone tonight. "Kiss me," he says, the words an almost physical presence between them, sudden and hopeful, a wish for unbridled comfort right here on his parents' doorstep.
Sebastian's eyes go a little wider, the reality of his request slowly sinking in. They're already pretending, what's one kiss, one simple show of affection–it's not even about that. He needs to feel something that isn't this despair.
"Blaine," Sebastian says, fingers curling in his jacket (and he thinks Blaine asks because he shouldn't be alone, but his arms can only cure so much. Blaine asks because he's good with words but he's not a magician; he has no trick that can mend a broken heart.)
"Just–no strings," he says, "No nothing." There's a numbness coursing through his entire body, something hollow beating at the center of him, a white empty space that's become the stuff of nightmares. "Just make me believe it all means something."
He's asking for so much, for one kiss to validate an entire life of self doubt, for lips to smooth the hurt of political incorrectness, but mostly he's asking his best friend what best friends do like none other: make him see sense in a nonsensical existence.
(In hindsight he should've thought it through more thoroughly, should've considered Blaine loves differently, takes and gives it without much reserve, but in that moment there's only honey hazel eyes that need their shine back and if he can fix that with a kiss, just one kiss, then why the hell not?)
Sebastian reaches a hand up to his cheek and his mind goes blank; his lips part and Sebastian becomes everything, his whole world right there. For one single moment in time his best friend does what he needs him to do, comfort him unquestioned, kiss him unpretending. Or maybe they're pretending for real this time.
Sebastian leans in and he reaches up, their lips meeting tentatively somewhere in the middle, only a touch at first, the added steady pressure of a kiss until Sebastian parts his lips as well, pulling slightly at his upper lip with his own, another kiss until there's a gentle nudge for more, more room to breathe, to move, to sink into something unthinking.
(He's never thought about it, how Blaine's lips would feel, how they'd taste, how the cool and breezy smell of boy would capture him so completely. He's known Blaine his entire life, understands every nook and cranny of his bristling personality, but he's never stopped to consider that comprising all of that is a strong and lean body, stout yet compact, capable of lust as much as love.
And the thought of that alone is so incredibly hot.)
Then, Sebastian goes all in all at once, his tongue barely waiting for permission, it slides deep into his mouth, settling hot against his before Sebastian's sucking at his lips. There's nothing merciful about it, Sebastian claims his mouth and he lets him, a dizzy rhythm for a heart crying out. He moans, grabbing at Sebastian's sides to steady himself even though he's pressed tight against the wall, fingers grappling haphazardly at white cotton.
(He pulls back before he loses control, moves his groin back before Blaine manages to lock his hands together at the small of his back, the heat at the bottom of his spine telling of a physical reaction that has no place between them.)
He lowers his forehead to Sebastian's lips and they're breathing hard against each other, his hands settling on Sebastian's abdomen. Sebastian's hands are still on his face, thumbs drawing circles high on his cheekbones. It's the first time he becomes truly aware of how physical Sebastian, that beyond his best friend Sebastian is a real boy with sexual desires like him, with a body that takes and gives things, capable of reactions like his own.
And it's really wrong for that thought to turn him on.
Sebastian pushes a kiss to his forehead, bringing him back to the best friend who only did as he was asked. He's not sure it worked, his chest still feels like it's been split open, bleeding out for everyone to see.
"I'm okay," he says, willing his desperation gone once Sebastian pulls away completely. There's a part of him that wishes they were young boys again, that Sebastian could be the one to crawl into his bed now and watch over his bad dreams, be there in the morning to sneak a Gameboy underneath the sheets, turn the sound off so his parents don't wake and take turns playing Super Mario.
But they're not boys anymore.
"You're not okay," Sebastian says, his arms around him again and he buries his face where his tears had left stains earlier. Sebastian holds him, right there, until his parents come home.
.
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tbc
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