Blaine couldn't have heard that right. Sam had spoken clearly, but it didn't make any sense. "Yes?"
"Yes," Sam repeated.
He looked so serious; he couldn't be just fucking with him. Maybe Blaine didn't ask the question right. "I asked...I thought the question you wanted me to ask was whether you, Sam Evans, have feelings for me, Blaine Anderson."
"Yes." Sam never broke their eye contact. "Yes, that was the question I wanted you to ask, and yes, my answer is that yes, I do have feelings for you."
They obviously were not talking about the same thing. "And by 'feelings' I meant...when I first asked you that question, I didn't mean just friendly feelings. Or like bro feelings. I meant..." How in the world could he say it?
"Romantic feelings?" Sam asked. "Sexual feelings?"
Blaine backed up against a locker and dropped his head. "Yeah, that's what I meant. And I'm so sorry I ever asked—"
"Stop." Sam placed his hand under Blaine's chin and gently lifted his head. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry I denied it. It's the only time I've ever lied to you."
"So...what you're saying to me is..."
"I don't know how to say it more clearly. If I didn't want to freak you out—"
"Ha! Too late."
"I like you romantically and I like you sexually. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to make out with you and...other stuff...eventually." Blaine didn't respond, and Sam added, "By eventually I mean hopefully not too long. But no pressure or anything."
Sam may as well have been speaking Na'vi. Blaine just stared at him stupidly, no idea what he was talking about.
Then Sam was right in front of him—really, really close in front of him—and had his hands on his shoulders. He was shaking his head. "They got you really bad, Nightbird. You're under the Spell of Not Understanding Plain English. I'm afraid there's only one cure." Sam pulled a tube of Chapstick out of his pocket. "And there's only one way to administer it." He took the cap off and generously applied the stuff to his own lips. Blaine stood, motionless, watching. He had been so in love with those lips, once. Sam leaned forward, his lips approaching Blaine's...
Blaine pushed him back and jumped out of the way. "You tried to kiss me!"
"Your comprehension skills are returning," Sam said, grinning. "This is good."
"No! No, it's not good at all! I used to have feelings for you. I got over them. I worked really hard to get over them. And now you just...Well, you can't." He ran to the door.
He heard Sam yell after him, "But that's why I built the time machine!" Blaine didn't turn around, didn't tell him that this superhero stuff may have been fun once, but it was time to grow up. They weren't kids anymore. Blaine was ready to get married. He picked up his pace and ran back to the choir room. Hopefully Kurt was still there.
Kurt...dear God, Tina was sitting on Kurt's lap. Mike looked confused and not a little worried. Kurt looked terrified.
"Hey, Tay-Tay. Mind if I borrow Kurt for a minute?"
"Blaine!" she said, with obvious relief. "Please, be my guest." Blaine mouthed the words "thank you" to her as she stood up, straightened her skirt, and walked over to Mike.
Blaine led Kurt to a quiet corner of the room. "Thank you for rescuing me," Kurt said. "Tina's a doll, but she really has to do something about those hag tendencies."
"No, don't blame Tina. I asked her not to let you leave." Sam was the one who asked her, actually, but Blaine felt it was better not to mention this. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh? What is it?"
"I..." He'd been ready, he'd had it all planned out. After Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury kissed (Mrs. Schue? He didn't know whether she was changing her name) and while everyone was still gathered around clapping, he was going to drop to one knee, take Kurt's hand, and...
But then Sam had...
And now the moment was ruined. They were standing off in a corner; you can't propose to someone in a corner. Besides, half the group was gone already, and the ones who weren't were grouped up in twos and threes, not paying attention to anyone else.
Tina and Mike walked over with their coats on. "Are you guys going to Breadstix? Wanna go in one car?"
"Yes," Blaine said, maybe a little more enthusiastically than the suggestion warranted. "You're going, right?" he said to Kurt. "We can talk there."
Blaine insisted on driving. Tina's dad's car was bigger, but Blaine could still fit four people in his pretty easily. And Kurt wouldn't try to talk to him too much if he was driving. He needed a few minutes to reassess his strategy.
God damn Sam.
After all this time.
Maybe it hadn't actually been that long, objectively. It really had only been a few weeks since the...the conversation in the locker room that Sam now suddenly wanted a do-over on. But it felt like forever. Forever that he'd been obsessing over his straight best friend—forever that he'd been trying to stop obsessing over his straight best friend. And he finally had. He had finally realized that he needed to be with someone capable of loving him back. That Kurt had loved him back once and could again.
Besides, Sam had his fucking chance to confess his "feelings" or whatever. His "feelings" that were probably nothing more than curiosity, in fact. Maybe Blaine would have helped him with his curiosity at one time. But Sam had his chance and he fucking blew it.
Not that the irony was lost on Blaine. The fact that he was about to ask Kurt to give him a second chance after he had blown it much, much worse than Sam had. What Sam did wasn't really that bad, after all. He lied, but it wasn't like Blaine thought he did it maliciously. He wasn't even sure he'd call it a "lie."
He couldn't really be mad at Sam for fucking up. He was more sad than angry. Sam's timing was just really, really bad. If only he'd said something before Blaine decided to...
"Uh, Blaine?" Tina snapped him out of his thoughts. "You just drove past the restaurant."
"Sorry." Blaine did a quick U-turn, almost colliding with another car. "Sorry again."
Everyone inside was standing around in front of the hostess stand. Apparently the wait staff were still pulling tables together. They should have made reservations.
Brittany accosted him with a giant hug. "Brittany!" He hugged her back. "Congratulations again on MIT. I'll really miss you."
"No, I already said my good-byes. That's not what this is about."
"Then what's it about?"
"It's because I want you to be happy."
"Oh. Thanks. I want you to be happy, too."
"Of course I'll be happy," she said. "Duh."
The tables were ready now and the group was led to them. Blaine failed to get seated next to Kurt, but that was okay; it was probably better, in fact. In the state of mind he was in now...Well, he would need to psych himself up again before he could even think of proposing. At least Sam wasn't there to distract...
Crap. There he was. Flushed and sweaty and fucking gorgeous. Did he run here or something? Oh yeah, shit. Blaine had been his ride to the school earlier in the day. That was a really long time ago.
Sam wedged himself in between Jake and Ryder at the far end of the line of tables. Good. Hopefully he'd have the decency to just leave Blaine alone.
He glanced over occasionally, just to make sure Sam wasn't looking at him. He wasn't. He was...what the hell? He was joking around. As if nothing had happened. He really had a lot of damn gall. To just turn Blaine's world upside down and then, when he didn't get what he wanted, just carry on like it was no big deal.
Well, it was a big deal. It was a big fucking deal.
"And for you?"
Damn it, the waitress wanted to take his order. It sounded like she had maybe asked more than once. "I'll have the special."
"Soup or salad?"
"What? Oh, salad."
"Dressing?"
"Oh for the love of..." He stood up, throwing his napkin down on the floor. "I don't want any damn dressing!" He tried to storm off but only got a few feet before he had to turn around. "I'm so sorry," he said to the waitress. "That was so rude of me. It's not you, I..."
Sam was looking at him, finally. So was the whole glee club, in fact. "Sorry, everyone. Post-competition nerves, I guess." Everyone pointedly looked away, except for Sam. Blaine walked over to him as casually as he could manage. "May I please speak to you privately for a moment?"
He walked out to the parking lot, not looking to see whether Sam was following him. He knew he was—he could hear the chair being pushed out and the footsteps behind him—he just couldn't actually look yet. He didn't look until he reached his car and turned to lean against it. Sam stood a few feet in front of him, looking at the ground.
"What the hell was that about in the locker room?" He actually meant to sound angry, but he didn't, because he wasn't.
"I literally don't know how to make it any clearer."
"No. Okay. I get that. I guess. I mean...why did you tell me that now? Why tonight?"
"Because I thought you were about to propose to Kurt."
"I was about to propose to Kurt! I am...You just wanted to fuck that up for me?"
Sam shrugged, still looking down. "I didn't want to fuck anything up for you. I just..."
"You just what? Sam..." He waited until Sam looked at him. "Why did you tell me...what you did...tonight? I mean, what exactly do you want me to do with this information?"
"I want you to not propose to Kurt."
"Sam!" It's what Blaine suspected, but he didn't think Sam would admit it so bluntly.
"Not tonight," Sam added. He sounded kind of desperate. "Wait a while at least. A few weeks, even a few days. I won't try to stop you again if you still want to after you just...after you just give me a little time."
"You want me to give you a little time to...?"
"I want you to give me a little time and go on a date with me."
"You want me to not propose to Kurt tonight and you want to take me out on a date."
"Yes. Please, Blaine, I—"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay," Blaine repeated.
