Disclaimer: I have no affiliation to Glee or its characters. This is fiction pure and simple.
You know the drill. Thank you - RHatch89, Aremkay, Gleeville, Dosqueen67, Shanehardy (always a pleasure) and Jov.
New reviewers – Blamm– Thank you soooo much! Welcome..
Klainer –Don't worry about it and thank you for bringing it to my attention I had no idea it was popping up in the Klaine fic list. I'm sorry this is a Blam story. Kurt's in the character list because you can't talk about Blaine without discussing the impact that Kurt has had on his life. My version anyway. Once again I apologize.
Red Letter Days
Chapter 21
"Sam?"
Sam snapped his neck round ending his perusal of the street. "Huh?" He inquired over the clickety-clack of Tina's scarlet nails on the glass.
She huffed irritated. "You've turned into the worst wingman ever. Good god! You are like one of those chicks that gets a boyfriend and her friends become invisible"
"I am not." Sam spared one glance out the window. Empty. Then he twisted in the loveseat, stretching his legs out and bumping hers. "And if you'd told me what kind of place this was I would have worn nicer jeans. What are we doing here anyway? And why do you look so…hot?" She usually looked nice but this was glossy lips and boobs and killer heels. Her dress was so tight every time she breathed he expected her to Hulk out and burst the seams.
"FU! I look hot all the time," She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "And let me explain this again; since you and Blaine started screwing I've gone from being part of a dynamic duo to a third wheel. Artie's buggered off too. So I need to date."
Sam squirmed. "I'm sorry." Trying to juggle Blaine, the modeling, Ronan's after hours demands and the list of assignments he doled out to determine Sam's artistic range was exhausting. No matter what Sam did, he felt like he was letting somebody down, usually her. "When Ronan's done shooting all eight landscapes I will have more time to hang out."
"Nah! Ignore my bitchface," Tina pushed her straw in, catching it as it flew out. "I just really miss you. But I do get it, Sam. You're in love." She got black pencil out of her tiny purse scrawled on a napkin and shoved it at him. "This is you with the googly lurrve eyes."
The stick figure with giant saucer eyes and hearts over his head was amusing and accurate. "You can't draw for shit."
"Doesn't make it any less true. Have you told him?"
"I'm going to. I'm just…" Worried. He'd been so ready to tell him then he turned around and Blaine was wearing 'the ring'. It had only been that one time but since then he'd been acting weird, taking these solitary excursions. Sam didn't want to come right out and ask 'what the hell he was doing?' because he was entitled to a little privacy and when Blaine wanted to tell him he'd tell him. "I'm waiting for the right time."
"Cool. Just let me know if I need to serenade you. Now where is the other half of Blam? I need to get this mantrap off the ground." She smoothed her hands down her thighs angling her body towards the room. "When it's just the two of us it looks like we are on a date and that is not a message I want out there."
"Blaine's on his way. He made a quick stop or something. Have you heard from Artie? I tried calling and he's not picking up."
"He's okay." Tina answered.
The very night, Blaine had dragged Sam out of Dogma, Lucy had finally given Artie a second look and from that moment on he was simply gone. They were lucky if they got a daily 'I did not die of happiness or from dehydration brought on by the rapid expulsion of seminal fluid' call. The assumption was that he was crashing with her for a little while because most of his stuff was still at their apartment. Sam was happy for him despite how fast they were moving, considering his situation he was certainly in no position to caution him about falling too fast. Since Thanksgiving, Ronan had been off somewhere trying to sabotage Claire's engagement. In celebration, he and Blaine had been practically conjoined in the four days that followed. The word clingy could even be used. On his part. Now Blaine was gone two hours and he missed him like he'd gone off to war. Not even twenty first century war but one of those wars back in the day before satellites and stuff and you had to wait months to receive a fucking letter. Man! When did he get so needy?
With a silent groan, Sam looked around the upscale lounge and found a distraction from his thoughts. "Why are these guys so old?"
"Cause I have seen the light and I am not going back to dating boys."
"But…they are like twenty years older than you, it's pervy."
"Your pervy is my sexy." She said with a shameless shrug. "I need someone with experience who can buy me pretty little things."
"A someone who isn't married." Came from over his shoulder, Blaine's hand sliding through his hair.
"Yeah that too." Tina smiled broadly. "I learnt my lesson the first time and whoa! You clean up nice."
Tossing his head back, Sam took in the black suit, black shirt ensemble, perfectly gelled hair and the splashy bow tie. "Whoa!" He echoed Tina's sentiment. Blaine and Tina were like matching sets of sexy while he looked like a hick. "Why didn't you tell me we were dressing up?"
Blaine slid in next to him, hand on his thigh and kissed him lightly. "I did." Kissed him again. "Last night." And again. "Over and over."
"I remember the over and over part." Sam closed his eyes as he reveled in the sensation of his lips against his. When they were together like this all his doubt went away. Blaine wouldn't be with him if he didn't want to be so Sam was going to not let his insecurities dwarf them. No one wanted to date the needy guy that required constant reassurance and he didn't want to be that guy. So from now on he was going to chill.
Ever handy with her phone, Tina flashed insistent on blinding them at every turn. "Are you ever going to stop with the photos?" Blaine blinked reaching for Sam's glass.
"I'm collecting the best ones so they'll fit into one email blast for when you get engaged or pregnant." She tittered. "Whichever comes first."
There had been that thing about that guy in Hawaii but Sam couldn't remember any of the pertinent details. "Men can't get pregnant." He muttered tugging at a few strands that had escaped the raspberry gel and curled seductively over the back of Blaine's neck.
"Oh but you boys sure are giving it a good try if the racket I heard last night is to be believed."
"God, you break one bed and you're labeled for life."
Blaine choked on the swallow of neat whiskey at his words. "We weren't actually…we were horsing around…I mean like wrestling…you know how that is and it broke. The bed. Yeah."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, jockey." Tina teased. "Ride your horsie as hard and for as long as you like. Now focus you're here for me."
"Which is why I came prepared" Blaine whipped out a small sleek camcorder pointing it right at her. "We can focus on you and collect hours of entertaining footage because you have no game and this is going to be hilarious."
Tina gasped. "I've got game. I meet guys all the time." She turned to Sam. "Tell him."
Sam had watched the little game she played, night after night at Dogma. Once he found himself buying all her drinks and he wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. "What he said."
"All I'm saying is you don't meet guys, guys meet you." Blaine elaborated "You wear your cute little outfits and sit at the bar and they come in droves, begging, flirting and showering you in drinks."
"Thank god I'm done with that 'impressing on dates' crap." Sam said with zero thought until he caught Blaine's raised brow. "I mean except with you." He appeased. "I will bring my A game on every one of our dates until the end of time."
"Good." Blaine's smile widened, and he nodded "Me too."
"People! Back here." Tina waved her hands, bangles jangling, like she was trying to land a plane. "You've shot down my one move, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
"Stop stressing out. First choose a victim," Blaine glanced around. "What about that one?"
Sam and Tina twisted in their seats and craned their necks. True to type, Blaine had picked the one guy in the bar whose age was closest to theirs.
"Bleugh!" Tina spat. "He's a tool."
"How can you tell?"
"Boyband hair." Then all of a sudden she screeched as a tall guy ducked in and strode past with them. "Ooooh! Chin dimple! Chin dimple!" Her compact was flipped out, face and teeth checked in record time. "He's like Aragorn but hotter. I'm going in."
"Aragorn but hotter? That sentence doesn't even make sense. There is no hotter." Blaine scoffed, as Sam beckoned her closer and asked, "What is your move?"
Tina's shoulders slumped. "Sit next to him and smile. Pray the odds are ever in my favor."
As she left, Sam stole the camera from Blaine tracing the edges of the viewfinder. "Hmmm interesting."
"Don't even think about it. I'm not having sex with you on camera."
"What's the worst thing that could happen?"
Blaine gave a small chuckle, his eyes caught the light flashing gold. "You were a Kardashian in your past life, weren't you?"
The ominous ringtone drowned out his retort. Every time the special ringtone he'd set for his boss went off, Blaine gave him the look, disappointment, hurt. "Fuck! I'm sorry." The words tumbled from Sam's lips as he cut it off. "His highness needs me."
"You're going to miss the fiasco with chin dimple."
Sam glanced over to where the drama with Tina at her flirtiest was already unfolding. If she leaned anymore to the left she was going to tumble right off that stool and hit the floor. Dammit! He was missing it. Handing the camera back to Blaine he got up. "I'll make it up to you." He promised as he lowered his head and kissed him.
"By falling asleep on me? Again?"
"Seriously! It happened once." Sam started to say something more when instead he cleared his throat. He couldn't say he loved him and then run out the door. A declaration like that deserved some postcoital cuddling. "Could you wait up for me?" He asked instead.
"Sure."
ooOoo
Sam zipped through the lobby, slipping into the elevator doors just as one of the other assistants was leaving. Ethan was usually quiet; mousy even when Ronan and Claire were around but the second their backs were turned he was vicious and liberal with the insults. He, like all the other more qualified and experienced five part time assistants Ronan had on rotation hadn't paid him any attention before, now they were emanating palpable resentment. Sam got it. Ideally he would have been at the bottom of the totem pole, doing the grunt work no one else wanted but his position was a little elevated because he answered only to Claire and she was head honcho so everybody hated him. He was pretty sure they thought he was sleeping with Ronan because Sam always stuck around afterwards for their unconventional lessons. All this did was give him a new appreciation for how Tina had felt except in her instance she actually had been schtupping Crazy Chef.
Honestly some days the catty office politics got to him and Sam just wanted to quit and run back to something familiar that was infinitely less stressful. Then he remembered that this was the best opportunity he had to improve his life, if he run from it now he'd just keep falling, quitting until he landed right back on that stage in a glittery jockstrap so he got up and went back to work.
Thankfully Claire was not getting married until next year in the Fall and probably not at all if Ronan's elaborate plans to get rid of her fiancé worked. Sam had that much time to learn everything he'd need to know, work his ass off and earn their respect. If that failed then, hell, he'd just fire them.
The rapping on the wide white door when he got to the top went unanswered and Sam just reached for his key and let himself in stopping at the crunch under his feet and the devastation spread out as far as he could see. Gingerly he stepped round the pointy ivory shards of the vase that used to grace the console table. Surprisingly this wasn't the worst thing he'd seen walking into this apartment unannounced.
"Ro -" He called out. "- nan. Sorry."
"What did I tell you about that?" The man snapped irritated coming in from the terrace. He was still on the right side of drunk; the bottle in his hand would get him their fast.
"What happened?" Sam focused on the mottled stains on the white couch that he really hoped was red wine.
"We had a fight."
Great! The boyfriend. In their little soap opera that Sam now had a ringside seat to; Ray had been cast in the role of gold-digger. He didn't do anything with his life, which was super weird, just partied all night, slept all day and mooched off his rich boyfriend. Claire hated him repeatedly called him a user. Sam disagreed with her assessment - not out loud - but Ray struck him as the kind of guy who'd come into the relationship with the best of intentions then along the way he realized he'd fallen for a guy who'd always be in love with someone else. It'd been too late to leave so he took what he could get, turning his disappointment into avarice. Sam could relate to his situation. Not the mooching or the idleness but the rest of it hit a little too close to home. Blaine and Kurt; the other drama he was a part of that had fuck all to do with him. Stopping Sam took a deep breath, steadied. He was just on edge because Blaine had been wearing that fucking ring. That was all.
"This isn't a fight; it's like a huge domestic thing." He continued, straightening a dented lamp and returning the poker to its rightful place. "He trashed all your shit. You wanna call the cops?"
"Nah! Not worth it."
"So you called me to clean up?"
"I already called the service. Come."
Following behind him Sam battled curiosity. Usually he tried not to get all up in his boss' business but this was madness… "What happened?"
"He hates dogs, always has."
"You bought a dog?"
"Not me!" He rambled gesturing with the half full bottle. "Jules. They adopted a dog together. Like look at me, my boyfriend and our tiny fucking dog and our perfect life, right? Like who gives a shit?"
Ronan obviously did which is why he stalked his ex online. It was so messed up.
By now Sam knew the story of Jules. The first boyfriend. They were high school sweethearts had a whirlwind – on the DL - romance until Jules convinced Ronan to come out publicly the summer before college and introduce him to his family. He did. The Ashwoods did not take it well and thus commenced a smear campaign on two fronts; blackmail and bribery that lasted for months. Jules decided he couldn't take the pressure and the scrutiny anymore and he bailed sending Ronan into a self-destructive spiral – the front pages with the Senator - that six years later was showing no signs of abetting. It probably accounted for most of his binge drinking and drug use.
A month ago Sam had envied his life. Now, he was so happy to just be himself.
He took the unused pad Ronan handed him knowing the drill. He'd sketch while Ronan turned him into a therapist and got progressively more and more wasted.
"These are crayons." Sam's head shot up from the Crayola in his hand.
"No kidding!" Came the sardonic reply.
Finding a comfortable spot, Sam started to draw the man stretched out on the bed, when he turned over; Sam merely put that page aside and started a new one.
He had learned over the past weeks not just to manage the job but also to manage the man himself. Ronan was very serious about his work. As long as there was a camera, brush, pencil whatever artistic implement in his hand he was focused, dedicated, driven but when there wasn't, he reverted back to his hard partying, drunk and or high, constant attention seeking, inappropriate self. Sam spent most days ducking and weaving to avoid his several mood changes and yet still anticipate his every need. He and Claire had a different rapport, they were childhood friends so she could yell when he made outrageous requests Sam didn't have the same luxury. It wasn't uncommon for Ronan to call him in the middle of the night and send him on a fool's errand like the tale of his insomnia which turned into 'The World's Dumbest Pillow Hunt'.
Sam continued to draw keeping an eye on the bottle wondering how many interns had this on their to-do list. Make sure your bipolar boss doesn't accidentally kill himself. He lost his concentration when Ronan suddenly asked, "How is um - Blaine?"
"He is good." Sam said carefully, no inflection so as not to spark his curiosity and he certainly didn't need another invitation to his mini orgies. He thought he'd succeeded until;
"Is he your first?" Ronan persisted undeterred. "Love? Is he your first love?"
Maybe because Sam and Blaine had been friends before or because they lived together, their relationship had accelerated beyond regular speed. Pedal to the metal. There was never any down time. But somewhere along the way Sam had started think of him as his first everything. He had always fallen easily but this was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. It had put all the relationships he had before him into perspective and they paled in comparison.
"Yes he's the first." He confessed.
"How does he feel about your less than stellar past?"
Sam started drawing again hoping the broad strokes would keep away 'The thing they never talked about' but Ronan was relentless.
"He seems like the virtuous type. What's he doing dabbling with a bad boy?"
"Blaine is not – like that. He can be very principled and stuff but…"
"They are all fucking angels until you step out of line. Then it's Sayonara loser and Hello, fellow virtuous idiot, let's buy a tiny dog and share our perfect lives." Sam just wanted to tell him to shut up because he didn't want to hear it. Ronan sat up looking him right in the eye imparting his awful wisdom. "All love is conditional. You should enjoy it while it lasts because…tick…tock." After a tense minute in which Sam had stopped doing anything he said, "Ignore me, Gin makes me so fucking maudlin it's like I start hearing harp music or some shit. I'm sure you two will be fine." And then he lay back down like he hadn't just confirmed everything Sam had been thinking.
Sam stayed there with him in silence for hours, both of them bleeding from invisible wounds. By the time he got home he felt soured on sentiment. He didn't want to think about it but his stupid brain couldn't stop making connections, drawing parallels. In his triangle, was he Ray? Trapped between Ronan and his forever love Jules. Resting his elbows on the kitchen island he stared in the darkness down the long hallway to the sliver of light streaking out from under Blaine's door. He'd always loved that, how no matter how late Sam was getting home; he always left a light on for him. It was merely the tip of the huge fucking iceberg of things that Sam loved about him.
When the door swung open he jerked back. Too late.
"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Blaine came over swinging onto a high stool besides him. "Did he fire you again?" On a very good day, Ronan only fired him once, when he screwed up. Sam had only panicked like the first dozen times but he was getting used to the way he operated and Ronan both was and wasn't the point.
"No…" Sam turned, words crawling up his throat still like a coward he sat there afraid to speak up and tip the scale away from him and back towards Kurt. "I –" He closed his eyes thought about how much Blaine hated his stripping and what it meant that they'd never once talked about it since they got together. "Would you have kissed me the first time if I was still stripping?"
"What?" Blaine asked but it was the way his hand slid off Sam's arm that hurt, that burned.
"Would we be together now?" Sam could still himself talking, digging in deeper but now that he'd started he didn't know how to stop especially since Blaine was on his feet actually backing away from him.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"The truth would be nice."
Shuffling from foot to foot, gazing somewhere over Sam's shoulder, Blaine increased the distance between them. "I don't want to ever lie to you so' No' I probably wouldn't have kissed you."
"That's my answer isn't it?" Even if he'd been expecting it, there was a moment, a little hope that Sam had been clinging to that now died out, choking and wailing, mourning as it left.
"If we start lying to each other then it will never end." Blaine stammered but Sam could barely hear him anyway. Maybe he'd been giving off these signals all the time that this thing between them was temporary but Sam had been too busy building this future in his head...he was such an idiot.
"I'm never going to be a real option for you, am I? No matter how much I love you, I'm always going to carry this stain that you can never get past? I will never be good enough for you." Sam heard his voice and he was ashamed of its pathetic desperation. "I will never be K –"
"Sam. No –" Blaine stopped when he got up. "What – where are you going?"
"I need to walk." Actually he needed to lie down but they'd broken his bed so he was going to walk because if he stayed he was going to do something even more shameful, like cry and of the many shameful things he'd been through in his life, that would surely be the worst.
"You can't just - leave. We need to talk about this."
Sam didn't want to talk, words broke you. Still he tried, slogging through the effort of it. "I'm in love you, you know. It's all I have. If that's never enough for you then I have no idea what we are doing together."
When he hit the street, he just kept on walking trying to convince himself that it was just love. It only had as much power as you gave it even though sometimes he felt like he was standing all alone clapping his hands for all he was worth so Tinkerbell could live again.