A/N- What's this? Another chapter in 24 hours? Has the world gone mad? No. Nothing that drastic. Loki Firefox begged for it and, because I love him, he's getting it as a thank you for all his amazing help so far. Loki, if this editing is subpar, it's because I rushed it for you. :P
For those of you who were excited to see the boys happy...remember that feeling, okay? I DO believe in happy endings. I do. But I love melodrama. I love tension.
Buckle up, kiddies, it's going to get a little rough before it gets better.
Getting a job turned out to be ridiculously easier than Blaine had anticipated. He'd left his résumé with a few businesses at the mall and some closer to home, and was surprised when the Lima Bean called him back less than an hour later. The interview had been a joke, the store manager recognising him as one of her best customers immediately, and he'd been handed an apron and asked to start then and there.
That had been over a month ago, and he found that, though he missed the extra time with Emily during the week, he enjoyed the work. He was great with the customers, found he knew a lot about coffee in all its forms, and didn't mind doing the odd jobs when the cafe was quiet. He'd even spoken to Julie -his manager- about setting up open mic nights to get more traffic through the door on their quiet days.
The one thing he truly disliked, though, was working the weekends. He desperately wanted to be bonding with Emily during the day, but he hadn't exactly told Julie that he was a dad (and it hadn't been for lack of trying, she just managed to shift the conversation every time he attempted it) and he did need the money.
He felt awful that Puck had become his designated babysitter, too.
Noah tried to assure him that he was fine with it, that he loved spending time one on one with his little Princess, but Blaine felt guilt settling into his gut every time he walked out the door, apron in hand. Emily was his daughter, not Puck's, and yet Noah was the one giving up his social life to look after her. Hell, Blaine couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his best friend go on a date, let alone hang out with the guys without Blaine and the baby tagging along.
Noah had been a womaniser until that past summer, when he'd abruptly decided to 'give the ladies a break' and start hanging out with Blaine. At the time, Blaine had seen it as his friend's attempt to bring him out of his post-breakup funk, but Puck had stayed true to his decision, even after it became apparent that Blaine had recovered from Kurt's departure. That had been almost five months ago, and he still hadn't seen Puck even bat an eyelid in an attractive girl's direction. In fact, ever since Emily, Puck had spent every night with Blaine and the baby.
Was it any wonder, then, that Blaine continued to wake up cocooned in Puck's arms, proof of the older boy's sexual frustration consistently poking into his hip or backside? Poor guy was probably desperate to get off with anyone by this stage. Even Blaine was beginning to get bored of just his hand, though his crush on Puck hadn't waned in the least. In fact, over the two months he'd been living with Noah, he'd found it becoming increasingly more difficult to deny that his feelings were more serious than a simple crush.
Noah was there for Blaine whenever he was upset or stressed out. He shared every little moment of parental wonder when it came to Emily, never once calling Blaine's joy at some tiny achievement stupid or exaggerated. He got up to help with the night time feeds, diaper changes and occasional poop explosions which required bathing Emily and changing all of her bedding (this had only happened three times to date, thankfully). He collected Emily from daycare if Blaine had to work late, and never once complained that he hadn't signed up to be a teen dad a second time to a kid that wasn't even his.
If it weren't for Noah Puckerman, Blaine didn't think that he would have been able to get as far as he had with his daughter. And there was no denying it anymore; Puck was in a league of his own when it came to any of Blaine's relationships, platonic or otherwise.
Pain blossomed in his chest as he finally acknowledged what he'd been avoiding: he had fallen in love with his best friend. His straight best friend.
-?-
"Hey! Anderson!" Blaine heard as he walked down the hall towards his math class, and he turned to see a wall of red and white jackets heading his way.
Blaine bit his lip, knowing that this situation was probably going to end badly. With a sigh, he dropped his messenger bag against the wall beside him and unbuttoned his cardigan, revealing the tight black polo beneath. He shrugged the top layer off, folded it, and placed it neatly on his bag. Then he calmly turned to face the boys and asked, "Is there a problem, guys?"
The guy to his right - Lipoff, Blaine thought- smirked and leaned against a locker beside him in an almost intimidating way. "We hear congratulations are in order."
Next to him, his friend nodded. "Word on the grapevine is that you've got yourself a kid."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "That's old news, boys, but thanks for the, uh, kind words." He moved to leave, but found himself pushed back against the metal wall behind him, landing with a clang.
"We're not done here." This came from Coleman, and Blaine wanted to sneer at him. He was not in the mood to play the non-confrontational geek role today. If these thugs didn't get out of his face and leave him the hell alone, he was going to lose it.
"I think we are." Blaine said, trying once more to just walk away.
"Listen up, Queer Eye," Lipoff again, and Blaine ignored the slur, "you walk around here as if you're better than everyone, but that's gonna change. You're a Grade A Loser. You're in high school and you have a kid? Even Coleman's not stupid enough to knock anyone up."
Blaine bit his tongue, preventing himself from making a comment about how Coleman would be lucky if he could get close enough to a woman to even try, and this coming from the gay kid.
"How'd that happen, anyway?" Surette finally spoke, sounding snide as ever. "Lady Hummel more woman than we all thought?" The other jocks sniggered. Bolstered by his audience, Surette continued. "No, he dumped your ass didn't he? Huh, maybe we were all wrong about who wore the pants in that relationship. Were you the one on the receiving end, Anderson? Maybe Hummel knocked you up and wanted nothing to do with your freak kid."
Blaine saw red. Homophobic slurs he could handle, jokes about his preferences in bed weren't exactly new either, but calling Emily a freak? Not gonna happen. "Shut up and walk away," he growled, giving the jocks one last chance to back off.
"Ooh, hit a nerve there, did we?" Lipoff looked pleased with himself. "You finally realise that it's wrong for a fag like you to be raising a baby? How fucked up is that kid gonna be?"
"Fuck you!" Blaine lunged forward at the same time as a beefy arm reached out to shove him backwards. He reacted on instinct, years of boxing training and fight club kicking in, and he ducked the arm skillfully. This had the unintentional side effect of enraging the letterman clad senior further.
With a frustrated growl, the jock surged towards Blaine, landing a blow on the shorter boy's shoulder. Blaine grunted but remained unmoved, his left arm delivering a swift uppercut to his assailant's midsection, the right following quickly with a secondary jab, knocking the wind out of the boy enough to drop him to his knees. Blaine turned to the next jock in line, arms still up in defence. "Next?" He asked, eyebrow arched, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"What is going on here?!" Mr Schuester's voice prevented the next boy from rounding on Blaine, but the former warbler's relief was short lived. Will grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and he struggled against the hold, grumbling as the jocks scarpered away. Typical. Blaine's frustration turned on his teacher.
"March!" Will demanded, giving Blaine a firm push forward towards the choir room. Blaine managed to convince him to let go long enough for him to collect his discarded belongings.
"Blaine," Mr Schue started once he pushed the teenager into the choir room, his tone laced liberally with disappointment and anger, "You want to tell me what just happened back there?"
Blaine straightened out his shirt and bow-tie, slipping his cardigan back on. "I didn't mean to hit the guy," he said, making a show of doing up his buttons, trying to reign in his temper. "I was just going to side-step him, but then he landed a punch and..." he shrugged. "Instinct kicked in."
"That's not what I was asking." Will sighed. "It's not like you to fight at all. How did you end up in that situation?"
Wanting to correct his teacher, but not wanting to break the number one rule of Fight Club (not that he'd been to a session in months!), Blaine shrugged, wilfully ignorant. "I don't know."
"I'm going to need more than that."
Blaine scoffed, "Please. The rampant bullying and slushying that goes on in this school, and you're going to act concerned now?"
Will gaped. "I am concerned! I care about you kids! I-"
"Oh, save it!" Blaine wasn't in the mood for one of Will Schuester's deep and meaningful conversations. On top of all the other issues Blaine was bottling up, this was the last straw. The man was all talk, and Blaine had had enough. "You are always going on about how important your students are, about how you want to make a difference, but you just turn around and ignore the stuff that's too hard for you to deal with, and you meddle in the personal lives of students when you really, really shouldn't. You're a teacher, Mr Schuester, not a friend or parent. Start acting the part."
"Blaine!" Will was unimpressed with his star performer's attitude, especially given how polite and kind he usually was. In fact, the outburst was much more like something Puck would have said than Blaine. Will took a deep breath and pointed at the door, refusing to say something that he'd regret later. "Take a walk."
Throwing his hands up in the air, Blaine muttered a "Whatever" and stormed out of the room, leaving Will to consider his next point of action.
-?-
"Dude, so I was listening in to some of the team during training, and they were mocking Lipoff for getting his ass handed to him by 'the gay midget in homo explosion'," Puck said later that afternoon as he and Blaine walked towards their cars, his arm slung casually across Blaine's shoulders, "and I've kinda been dying to hear that story all day."
Blaine had been dreading this part. He didn't think Puck was going to take the news of what the boys had been saying about Emily well, but he knew it was better to warn him before he overheard it and started hitting people himself. Still, Blaine wasn't telling him in the McKinley High parking lot, not when Puck could turn around and go actively searching for the jocks. He'd tell Noah later, at home, and give him time to adjust and calm down before work the next day. With that in mind, he shrugged. "Not much to tell. He swung at me, I swung back and got him in the stomach."
"Totally badass," Puck grinned, giving him a proud little shake. "I can't wait to tell Em."
"What? No! Puck, she's, like, ten weeks old. You're not encouraging fighting around my ten week old daughter. It was reckless of me; what if I'd gotten suspended or something?" That thought terrified him; if something bad ended up on his permanent record, his college options (and therefore entire future) would be shot to hell.
"Okay, okay, chill." Noah gave him a squeeze. "You didn't get in trouble, so it's all good." He stopped at Blaine's car (they'd swapped for ease of transporting Emily; Puck's truck was not an adequate option), watching the set of Blaine's shoulders as he walked on. "But you're obviously not getting enough of a release these days. We totally need to ditch Em with Ma for a couple of hours and work it off together." They both stopped and blushed, hearing the accidental innuendo and proposition in Puck's words. "I...I mean in the gym. Boxing. Fuck."
Avoiding Puck's gaze, Blaine forced a laugh, but it fell kind of flat. "Yeah, I kind of figured." To his horror, his voice gave away his disappointment. "Look, I'm late for work. I gotta go." He clamoured in to the truck and peeled out of the parking lot, refusing to look back, blinking back tears. "Stupid. So stupid."
-?-
Blaine was distracted all evening, getting coffee orders wrong, knocking cups over, spilling things everywhere. His boss had pulled him aside to ask what was wrong, but he brushed her concern off, laughing that he was just having a bad day. And, because he hadn't learned any better by that stage, Murphy's Law came into effect, Sebastian Smythe striding through the door.
"Blaine?" The lead Warbler asked, approaching the counter. "You work here now?"
With a sigh, Blaine nodded. "I have for a few weeks."
Green eyes lit up with delight, and Blaine smothered a groan. He'd had a blissful number of months without Sebastian interfering in his life, what the hell was the guy doing back now? He'd backed off after the drama of the previous year, then disappeared completely, and Blaine had assumed that he'd found a new boy to sexually harass. But now here he stood, all smirking and cocky, and Blaine needed to find a way to end it before it all began again.
"Where's your pretty little boyfriend?" Sebastian was leaning across the counter now, fiddling with the cylindrical straw dispenser in a way that Blaine could only describe as obscene. "I heard through the grapevine that New York didn't want his effeminate ass."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Blaine reminded himself that dumping scalding coffee over Sebastian would get him fired. "Don't talk about Kurt like that," he demanded.
Sebastian was unaffected by the fire in Blaine's tone. He shrugged. "Fine. But you still haven't answered the question."
"I don't have to," Blaine seethed, temper still frayed from earlier in the day, additional frustrations of having a bad workday only fuelling his ire. "Now, are you going to order a coffee or not? Because I have better things to do than stand here and be interrogated about my ex." And shit. Shit, damn, fuck, head and hell. That had not been part of the plan. He put it down to just how badly his day was going.
As expected, the taller boy's eyes widened and then gleamed. "Ex?"
"God! Sebastian, I'm trying to work. Order a drink or leave me alone."
"Fine. Double espresso with a shot of-"
"I'm not getting fired for serving alcohol to a minor."
Sensing that Blaine was close to snapping point, Sebastian toned his personality down a notch, "Okay. I'm sorry. Just the espresso, please."
Blaine typed the drink into the register and took Sebastian's cash with a little more force than strictly necessary. But Sebastian wasn't letting go that easily.
"So you're single now?"
"And probably for eternity," Blaine muttered, thoughts drifting back towards Emily, and then dangerously towards Noah.
"What?"
"Nothing." Blaine set about making the drink, glad for the distraction. He handed it over a few tense minutes later.
"I'm sorry, Blaine, I am." Sebastian sounded genuine, but Blaine just wasn't in the mood.
"Have a nice day, Sebastian."
"Blaine, please-" he placed his hand over Blaine's resting on the counter at the precise moment the bell over the door jangled.
When Blaine looked up, it was into the hardened eyes of one Noah Puckerman, Emily snug against his chest.
Puck took one look at the scene in front of him and felt his heart squeeze painfully. He was too late. He was too fucking late. He'd raced over to collect Emily, a plan forming in his head. He'd been certain that he hadn't imagined the moment in the parking lot; Blaine had sounded as though he'd wanted a different sort of proposition from him, too.
So he'd decided that today was it. It had been nearly five months since he started falling for his best friend, and it was time he manned up and confessed. It was getting too difficult to live in such close proximity, to go to bed and wake up next to Blaine (or, worse, wrapped around him) and not give in to his urges and reach out and touch.
But he was too late. Sebastian Smythe, the douche that had blinded Blaine last year with a freaking slushy, was holding his hand, making doe-eyes at him from across the counter. And Blaine wasn't brushing him off, wasn't spouting declarations that it wasn't what it looked like, wasn't telling the guy to get lost. So Puck stood there with Blaine's gorgeous kid curled up under his chin, feeling like an idiot.
"Noah," Blaine finally managed, pulling his hand out from under Sebastian's. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh, I know you usually get a break around now, and I though I'd surprise you," Puck replied, feeling more and more foolish with each word he spoke. "I mean, 'cos you don't get to see her before she goes to bed these days, and I thought it'd be good for both of you, y'know?" And he was babbling. Noah Puckerman never freaking babbled. "She's a bit grizzly today. Ma says she might be getting a cold or something. She feels a bit warm."
At that, Blaine's expression went from one of adoration to one of deep concern. It looked, to Sebastian, as though Blaine was going to vault directly over the counter to get to the older teen and the baby. Blaine's manager must have sensed it, too, because she came out of nowhere, giving Blaine a searching look, telling him to go ahead and take the afternoon off as it was pretty light on business anyway. Blaine couldn't shuck the apron fast enough, spewing gratitude and promises of explanation at his manager before racing around the counter, bypassing Sebastian entirely. In fact, it felt to the Warbler that the other two boys had forgotten that he was even there.
"Hey, Em, look who's here sweetheart," Puck said, shifting so that the little girl could see her father.
Her eyes lit up in recognition immediately, the pout on her face becoming a bright smile, her chubby hand -covered in her own drool- reaching for Blaine.
Sebastian gasped when she turned, seeing the resemblance, wondering if he was misinterpreting. Because Blaine was gay. Sex on a stick and completely irresistible, yes, but gay. Besides, he wouldn't have cheated on Hummel; that concept was absurd. "Cute kid," he said, regaining his equilibrium, sidling back up alongside Blaine, coffee forgotten. "Your sister? Niece? Cousin?"
Blaine rolled his eyes and shook his head, reaching for the baby. "Hey Emmy. Want to cuddle with Daddy?" he cooed, taking her from Puck's arms. She beamed at him and made some garbled sounds, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to her forehead, frowning because, yeah, it was warmer than usual. He looked up at Puck. "You think I should take her to the clinic?"
Puck shook his head, distracted by the horrified look on Sebastian's face. "Daddy?" The Warbler echoed. "You're not serious, Blaine."
Blaine's expression hardened, becoming almost unreadable. "As a heart attack, Sebastian. Emily is my daughter. Is there a problem with that?" He smoothed a hand over her hair to calm himself.
"Is there...? Blaine. You're gay." Sebastian spoke slowly, as if he were trying to explain a very complicated problem to a five year old. "Gay, Blaine. Gay men don't normally spontaneously wind up with kids." He eyed the drooling infant with distaste. "So, how did that happen? It this why you and Princess Peach broke up?" Because he couldn't see Hummel sticking around for diapers and feedings and all the other gross stickiness involved in child rearing.
"Not that it's any of your business," Blaine told him, "But no. Kurt and I broke up way before I knew Emily existed. As for how she happened? I'm sure you can work that out. I didn't think I'd have to draw Sebastian Smythe a picture when it came to sex."
"But-"
"If you say 'but you're gay' one more time, Smythe, so help me God..."
"Okay. I'm sorry." Sebastian snapped his jaw shut, looking between Blaine and Puck -both of them tense and awkward- and tried to work out where the other boy came into the picture. From memory, he was a straight McKinley jock, but the way he was eyeing Blaine and the baby said otherwise. And Sebastian's gaydar was never, ever wrong. Besides, Blaine seemed to only have eyes for Mr Tall-Dark-And-Muscular, shooting him shy glances when the taller guy looked away.
It seemed to Sebastian that these boys could use a push together, especially now that he was no longer interested in Blaine. It wasn't that the shorter boy was any less appealing than he had been five minutes earlier, but he had a baby, and Sebastian was not in any way interested in getting involved with that mess.
Feeling magnanimous, he curled his lips into a smile, staring at Blaine in the same flirtatious way he always had. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the bigger boy tense up. 'Good.' He thought. Muscles was playing right into his hand. "This," Sebastian gestured at the infant tugging at Blaine's hair, "must be rough. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay? Not a single sexual advance in sight, I promise." He winked. "Unless, of course, you decide you want that sort of thing."
"Oh. Oh, I, uh, I appreciate the offer, Sebastian, but-"
"Okay, I get it. Look, here's my number again," he produced a pen and scribbled on the back of a napkin, tucking it into Blaine's hip pocket, resisting the urge to squeeze the boy's cute backside as he did. He was practically a saint. "So, if you change your mind, I'm here." He reached out and ruffled the soft hair on the baby's head, adopting what he hoped was a fond sort of expression. "Later, Killer."
-?-
Puck had been tense and silent ever since they'd left The Lima Bean in separate cars, and Blaine could only assume the worst; Puck had finally realised that his best friend -the boy he was sharing a bed with- had fallen for him, and was freaking out. Blaine felt awful; the last thing he'd wanted to do was make his best friend uncomfortable.
Over the course of the afternoon, Blaine tried to make conversation, but most of his attempts had been ignored or only garnered only monosyllabic replies. Even his questions about Emily, which usually never failed to brighten Puck up, were given little attention.
When they were putting her to bed (their third attempt for the night, as she was getting increasingly grizzly), Blaine snapped.
"Okay," he started, rounding on Puck with his hands on his hips. "What's your problem?"
"I don't-"
"Don't lie to me. You've been weird ever since you brought Emily to me at work." He softened, still blown away by how thoughtful the act had been. "Which I really did appreciate, by the way."
"Coulda' fooled me."
"What?"
Puck swallowed and looked away. "You just seemed to be having a good time with Sebastian before we showed up. And it got me thinking." His heart rate increased, knowing that this was his chance. This was his time to do what he'd planned to that afternoon.
"Thinking?" Blaine asked, forgetting to correct Puck on his assumption, too curious as to what was bothering his friend.
"Yeah. I...I've been...You..." Puck took a deep breath. "I've been thinking of moving out." His eyes widened as the words left his lips. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say!
Blaine reeled back, stunned and hurt. "Oh." He felt his throat tightening, the sting of impending tears in his sinus and eyes. "Oh. Okay."
Puck, meanwhile, was trying to work out where his plan had gone wrong. He hadn't meant to say those words; he'd wanted to confess his feelings and then pin his best friend to the bed for an epic make out session. So why had he faltered? Why had he, instead, just told Blaine that he was leaving? And that meant leaving Emily as well. Shit. Fuck. What had he just done?
"Blaine..." He looked up, wanting to take it back, wanting to apologise and make everything better, but the words weren't coming. "I...It was kind of obvious that you and Sebastian..." he trailed off. "Look, I just think you need space. And privacy. And, dude, I haven't been laid in months either, so..." Oh my God, it was word vomit, and it wasn't stopping, and he didn't mean any of this shit! "Besides, I'm earning real money now, it's about time I manned up and made it on my own, right?"
Blaine had gone from hurt to completely heartbroken. He couldn't believe this was happening. Puck was leaving him. Leaving Emily. Because he missed his sex life. Blaine wanted to scream; he'd known this would happen! Fighting back his tears (because this was all his own fault, really), he silently moved around the room, readying himself for bed.
Noah was watching him, paralysed by self-loathing, unable to believe that he'd caused this. He wanted to stand up, put his arms around his friend and stop this nonsense, but his body wouldn't cooperate.
Blaine lay down on his side of the bed and curled up in a ball, willing himself not to cry, not even sparing Puck a second glance.
