A/N: Wooooo, not a week-long wait because of stupid education! You might wanna bring tissues, though. Per usual, we both love all you reviewers and readers! We're so happy so many people are reading, and we've gotten quite a few new readers recently. Thank you all so much!
The Ohio Show Choir Regionals were unsurprisingly nothing like a football game. Or any event Dave had been to, for that matter. Everything was quiet murmurs and people talking about original casts vs new casts of shows Dave had never even heard of. He felt like an outsider, in a world he was stereotypically supposed to be a part of.
Honestly, listening to some of the people sitting around him made him damn grateful for it.
Still, enduring an intense argument over which was the best song from Les Misérables - "I Dreamed a Dream" or "On My Own" - wasn't so bad, especially as one educational lunch date with Blaine taught him that the best song was "One Day More". Listening to his boyfriend heatedly explain how the other two were beautiful songs, but were horrendously overused for auditions, and how "One Day More" just never failed to awe him with its power, never failed to remind him of why he was so interested in musical theatre, was one of the most adorable things he'd ever witnessed.
It was really a small price to pay to be there for his boyfriend. He'd been running himself ragged trying to prepare for this, to the point where Dave had be seriously concerned about Blaine's health, but a short conversation with the Warbler's mother revealed that it was quite normal for them to have to eradicate every scrap of chocolate in the house during competition time. Not that removing the junk food stopped Blaine from getting his hands on it, especially when one puppy dog look to Dave's mom or Santana got him any treat he could possibly want.
As if on cue, Tana popped up at his side. The seats they got were pretty great – center aisle, and a few rows up from the stage. So great that his parents insisted on buying a ticket for Blaine to sit with them when he was able, since the other three tickets were free due to Wes' parents being considerable contributors to Dalton Academy's wealth.
"Hey Mr. and Mrs. K," Santana said with a pleasant wave. His father nodded, and his mother smiled brightly, waving back before going back to their conversation. The Latina turned to Dave, arching a brow and jutting her hip out. "Prime seats for the meat show. Let me in on it."
Dave simply shrugged, gesturing toward Blaine's empty seat only to get a lapful of girl and an unnoticed, confused look from his parents.
"Not interested in a lap dance, Lopez," he murmured teasingly, chuckling when she rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck.
"Okay, first off, I'd only give Blaine a lap dance, and that'd only be so he could know how to do it for you."
He arched an eyebrow at that, lips pursing in thought. His mind was suddenly flooded with images of a squirming Blaine on his lap and –
Santana snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hey! None of that. Not without explaining it in vivid detail." She paused, looking at him expectantly before rolling her eyes once more. "One of these days... anyway, secondly, I get a better view from your lap."
"A better view of what?" Dave shifted a little, straightening his posture, resting a hand on the middle of her back and on her knees. "I thought-"
"A better view of hot boys in uniform," she said, cutting him off.
Dave would have said something, but the lights in the theatre dimmed, spotlights focusing on right side of the stage as the Warblers filtered onto it and towards their platform. Once they were settled, he caught Blaine peering into the audience. Dave figured he was looking for his parents, but the moment their eyes met, he stopped looking around, a bright, broad smile over taking his face. It looked like he released a breath, too.
He smiled back, going so far as to rest his chin on Santana's shoulder to make sure Blaine could see it, and was rewarded with his boyfriend pressing his lips together, shaking with repressed laughter, and cheeks turning a little red. In other words, he was beautiful.
Then the song started.
Dave knew it by heart, despite not liking the song much. He had listened to the original what had to be a million times, and sat through several renditions by Blaine, and even timidly sang along, filling in for Kurt on the days he and Blaine couldn't get together for whatever reason.
He watched intently as Kurt and Blaine made eye contact, the shorter of the two circling the other on occasion. They both looked so alive on stage, and Dave couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Not just because they were so open, so able to just go out there and put all their emotions on the line in front of everyone, but it was also just plain, irrational, there-is-someone-paying-attention-to-my-boyfriend-who-isn't-me-must-crush jealousy.
As "Candles" came to a close, he shifted in his seat, leaning forward, ignoring Santana's quizzical look. Blaine had deigned to step out of the spotlight in favor of guiding Kurt to the center of the stage, waving his arms and coaxing the audience to clap for Kurt and Kurt alone.
"Too nice for his own good," Santana murmured, to which Dave grunted in agreement.
The softness of the previous song was shattered with the sudden beginning of the Warblers' take on P!nk's "Raise Your Glass" blasted throughout the theatre. Dave was on his feet not even ten seconds into the song (shoving an unamused Santana off his lap in the process) and, completely forgetting this really wasn't the proper venue for what he was about to do, he let out a loud whoop, clapping enthusiastically, and that was all it took. Within a moment, the entire audience was up and screaming for more.
It didn't take long for Dave to stop jumping and shouting, though. It wasn't out of lack of enjoyment, not by any means – he was enraptured. He'd be lying if he said he never saw Blaine dance before, the guy was way too energetic for that to be plausible, and he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd caught the Dalton boy dancing to himself, iPod in hand, or even without any music encouraging him, but this was different.
This was a side of Blaine he'd never seen before. He'd seen him sing with his club once before, but that wasn't a competition, there wasn't a trip to New York on the line. Blaine didn't just own the stage, he owned every inch of the entire room, held the attention of every last person filling the seats. Dave couldn't take his eyes off him as he darted from one end to the other, jumping and spinning and making faces and hand gestures all while belting out a song about accepting yourself for your oddities.
Had anyone looked at Dave the moment Blaine fell into line with his fellow Warblers, jumping out and back in only to snap back out and dance backwards, waggling his fingers in a come at me motion, they would have known that he was in love. How could he not be? God, Blaine was having the time of his life up there, and Dave could only think about how happy he was to be there, to be watching his boyfriend like this, doing what he loved.
When the song ended, the entire theatre still buzzed with energy, several people still standing long after the Warblers had left the stage, New Directions having made their way out of the audience as soon as the Dalton boys had finished their number. Once again, Dave spotted Blaine right away, watching him as he and the senior Warblers patted everyone on the back, no doubt sharing words of encouragement.
His breath caught when Blaine turned around, catching his eye and pointing at him, then shifting back toward Wes, who shrugged and nodded.
The curly-haired boy leaped over some of his teammates' legs, jogging up the aisle with a breathy, "Hey!" and a soft smile for Dave, only to be snatched up by Monica before he could get the chance to do anything else.
"Blaine!" She squealed more like a teenage girl than the forty-two-year-old woman that she was. Swaying him in the embrace, Monica squeezed a bit harder before letting go, holding onto his arms instead. "Oh, you were incredible out there! All of you were!"
Paul's face appeared over his wife's shoulder, smiling, more contained than she was, but still very obviously genuine. "You boys are quite the talent!"
"Thank you!" Blaine was positively effusive with the mixture of nerves, adrenaline, and warmth from Dave's parents' greeting. Even Santana had smiled at him on her way backstage. (She also gave him a pat on the ass, but that was played for laughs. At least, he thought so.) When he looked down at Dave, he gave his arm a nudge with the back of his hand, cheeks aching from the width of his smile. "What about you? Did you like it?"
"Are you kidding? It was great." The taller boy stood up, standing behind Blaine and giving his shoulders a squeeze, desperate to touch him but unable to do so in the way he really wanted to. "You were fantastic."
Before Dave had the chance, Monica was already guiding Blaine to the seat between her and her son, both David and his father taking their seats as well. "Sit, sit," she murmured. "I'm so gladDavid mentioned this, even if we were forced to sit through a talentless group before getting to see you."
"Monica!" Paul said with a laugh, patting her hand. "Honestly, the other group-"
"Hush."
He sighed. "Yes, dear."
While his parents chatted amongst themselves, Dave took the opportunity to lean closer to Blaine, voice lowering so only he could hear. "You- you were really, like... completely gorgeous up there." He tilted his head in order to catch the other boy's eyes, smiling bashfully. "Couldn't take my eyes off you."
After all of the compliments that had been rained down upon him, it was hearing that from Dave that made Blaine's cheeks flush. "I'm glad you liked it," he murmured back, "I'm so proud of the guys. That's probably the most elaborate choreographing we've ever done. Jeff came up with most of it. After seeing New Directions a few weeks ago, we knew we had to move around a lot more if we wanted to win." He looked over Dave's face searchingly, his brows slanted upwards. He was just so glad that he'd been able to come, that his boyfriend had come to watch him perform, that he'd seen them ace such an awesome routine. "I'm really confident about our chances."
"You should be," Dave replied cockily, as if he were the one who had just performed. In truth, it just seemed terribly obvious to him. Why would anyone receive an award when they were up against Blaine? "I'm gonna miss you when you go to New York, though."
"You could always come with me," he replied, voice low and a smile teasing at his lips. "I can sing you an inappropriately timed love song in Central Park or something. I'm really good at those."
Just as Dave was starting to actually smile at him, the lights went low again, indicating the next performance. Ever since meeting her, Blaine had always been struck by Rachel's star quality. She was a tiny girl and certainly didn't look for a starlet, but the moment she opened her mouth to sing or even speak, everyone immediately shut up. Most of the time. Tonight was one of those times.
The theatre went silent as she glanced up the wings of the stage, hands worrying at the microphone stand as the opening notes began.
Blaine settled back in his chair, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in a nervous tug. He didn't like going up against New Directions. He'd befriended most of them, and it was difficult to sit there and judge their performance without bias - a bias that drifted for and against the favor of the Warblers. As Rachel began the song, he shut his eyes, listening to the lyrics in an attempt to catch onto what song it was. The opening notes weren't familiar, but they might have changed the arrangement in order to suit her better. It was a common practice.
No sooner had Blaine's shoulder brushed against Dave's did the Warbler go tense. He didn't recognize the song. He knew all the Broadway standards - something Rachel leaned towards - and kept an ear open for both Top 40 and more popular indie songs. He knew the classics and the modern classics. It was his job to know these songs (and thereby know the competition), but he didn't know this one.
Turning towards Monica, he lowered his voice. "Do you know this song?" he asked, brow furrowed as the music grew louder and two voices joined Rachel's on stage.
"No, honey, I don't," she replied, her expression thoughtful. "Do you?"
"I... I think it's an original song?" Blaine's eyes widened the moment the words left his lips and he fell back into his original position, staring awe-struck in the direction of the stage. This song was perfect. It fit Rachel's voice to a T. He couldn't believe it; the New Directions had thrown down the gauntlet. Or, rather, smacked them in the face with it without a hint of warning before simultaneously raining on their parade and ruining Christmas.
He emitted a low whining sound not to be overheard due to the volume of the music. This was bad. This was really, really bad. It was such a ballsy move, and judges looked towards people who could pull off such wild chances. And she was. Rachel was pulling it off.
Blaine shifted in his seat, brows furrowed even deeper than before as he worried his full bottom lip. He couldn't stay still. He felt nauseous as a tidal wave of doubt hit him. Their performance of "Candles" had been haphazardly thrown together. It wasn't the best any of them had ever been. There was barely any choreography, and Kurt was nervous. Had he handed away the title and the trip to New York?
The Warbler's shifting caught Dave's attention. It wasn't particularly odd for Blaine to be restless, but tension was rolling off him in waves, and while Dave was the first to admit he wasn't the most attentive person in the world, he'd have to be all kinds of dense to miss that his boyfriend was about ten seconds from giving himself an ulcer.
Taking a deep breath, the taller boy reached over, guiding Blaine's hand between them out of self-consciousness, interlacing their fingers once he felt comfortable enough. He leaned in a little, smiling at Blaine's wide-eyed look of despair. "You don't need to worry," he said just loud enough for the other boy to hear. "You're a million times better."
With that, Dave ducked his head slightly, lifting their interlocked fingers in order to press a tender kiss to Blaine's knuckles.
Blaine exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding until his shoulders caved in slightly. The gesture was sweet beyond comprehension, and it relaxed him somewhat, enough to have him give his hand a little squeeze and give Dave a tiny smile.
"Thanks," he murmured, bumping his shoulder just barely against his. "But you're just being nice. They're doing original songs. There's no way the judges will take us into account now."
Dave nudged him right back, expression serious. "So what? They can write crappy teen bop songs – who cares?" His bias was showing, but at this point he just saw his boyfriend worried all his hard work was wasted. "It's pretty damn obvious who's the more talented group. It's a damn singing competition."
Before Blaine could respond, Rachel's song wrapped up, and with an introduction of the entire group, a faster paced, far louder song took its place. It didn't take long for Kurt to head up the cheering, the entirety of the Warblers following soon after, eager to cheer on their "rivals." Both Dave and Blaine stood up along with the audience, the former of which rolling his eyes at the same time.
Keeping their linked hands wedged between them, Dave nudged him again. "Told you," he just barely managed over the loud music and cheering crowd. "I dare you to tell me this doesn't suck ass."
Evidently it didn't suck enough ass.
Not an hour and a half later, Blaine and the rest of the Warblers broke off from the crowd and made their way out to the parking lot. The air of disappointment was so thick it had to be wafted away from your face before you could even think about breathing. And Blaine knew it was his fault. While it was true that he didn't know New Directions was doing original songs, but that didn't matter, did it? They would have had a better chance at winning if they'd stuck with "Misery" and "Raise Your Glass." He was sure of it. With the choreography and the energy stemming from both songs, they might have garnered a higher vote.
Rubbing his hands over his face, Blaine leaned against the railing of the handicapped exit. The Warblers stood around outside of the venue, broken into smaller pieces and continuously congratulated and consoled by different members of the audience.
"This... this sucks. We spent so much time practicing."
With Dave's mom and dad busy speaking to some other WMHS parents, Dave was able to do something he never though he'd do in a million years. If Blaine everquestioned his love for him, Dave was going to remember to point to this one moment.
His voice pitched a little higher than usual, and while he couldn't fake a lisp, he managed a rather convincing, stereotypical 'gay voice'. "The judges' minds were melted by the girls' outfits. I mean, who wears that color? And with combat boots?" Somehow, Dave didn't cringe afterwards, instead putting on a very serious face, as if he were talking about the life or death of a loved one, not that lack of fashion sense New Directions had.
Blaine simply stared at him for the longest time, his jaw hanging just enough for his lips to part in a clearly stupefied expression.
All it took was a quiet, "Oh my God, you didn't," for his own sobriety from the contest's end to shatter into a million pieces and a choked out, broken laugh. His face lit up despite the lead in the pit of his stomach, and he leaned into him, forehead pressing into Dave's shoulder as he dissolved into a fit of quiet, hiccuped laughter.
Dave silently congratulated himself, giving the other Warblers a bashful wave when they looked back to see what had gotten Blaine in such a good mood, almost all of them turning back to what they were doing with knowing smiles.
He rubbed soothing circles over Blaine's back, chuckling quietly. "Yeah, I did, and now I need to go wash my mouth out with some soap," he replied. "Or, you know, bleach."
"It was a really garish color," Blaine murmured, hand somehow snaking up between them to curl his fingers around one side of Dave's jacket, holding himself closer for just a moment before taking a step back and grinning at him. "Don't worry about the bleach. Or the soap. Just... thank you. It still sucks, but at least I can hold onto that if I need some cheering up."
Not far off, Nick and Jeff were standing, the taller, blonder of the two with his arms wrapped around the other, head dipped down low to peck little kisses onto his cheeks as he murmured something to cheer up his other half just as Dave had. They were adorable together, and Blaine uttered a happy sigh as he rested his cheek against Dave's shoulder, watching as a smile melted across Nick's face.
Couples and families continued to pass without saying a word, but there was always that one person or that one group that made it a point to stand out from the rest, to ruin every happy feeling.
"I thought you told me Dalton wasn't a gay school," the man murmured to his wife, whose hand was clasped around that of their child. When she corrected him, telling him that it wasn't a gay school and simply one for all-boys, he uttered a quiet huff. "It's inappropriate. This is a family friendly venue. We shouldn't be forced to see that."
Blaine felt his heart clatter around in his chest before it fell to his toes, throat going dry as he stepped farther away from Dave. He somehow kept a scowl off of his face when the man turned his attention their way. "Your school did a wonderful job." At least his wife had the decency to impart a compliment to them after what he'd just heard. The man's eyes lingered on the back of Dave's head for a moment before flicking to Blaine, nodding, and moving off in the direction of their car.
Dave felt the stare. It made him feel a little ill, entire body stiffening, shoulders bunching up. It hurt, even if the comment wasn't directed at him, he knew the guy was thinking the exact same thing about Blaine, about him, about them. Who knew how many people thought the same? How many people felt like theywere disgusting just because they were two guys. It was like no one saw that Jeff was just doing what any good boyfriend would. That's what bothered Dave more than anything. He didn't want people to ignore how he felt about Blaine just because they were the same sex.
Tilting his chin down, the brunette looked deeply into the other boy's eyes as he shifted from foot to foot, obviously unsure what to do. Dave knew he didn't know how to handle this, didn't know if he should act, because Blaine was always selfless. Always willing to wait for him. A thought suddenly crystallized in his mind: did Blaine think that he thought they were disgusting too? Dave's eyes suddenly glassed over. He was hiding from nearly everyone in his life, like it was some gross, unnatural secret. He was treating Blaine like he was something he was ashamed of.
Yeah, he was scared to come out, but it wasn't because of any of that. He was just scared. Of being judged and hated based on something as irrelevant as his sexuality.
Clearing his throat, Dave chewed on his bottom lip, nodding to himself, an idea forming in his head as his eyes flicked over Blaine's handsome face. "Do you have some time before going home?" he asked, voice revealing nothing, but still soft in tone. "There's something I wanna do with you."
Blaine looked up at him, his own eyes still the slightest bit glazed as he tilted his chin up to look at him. When Dave's words registered, one of his brows drifted upwards on his forehead. "I... didn't have a set time to get back home, no," he murmured, clearly confused and not bothering to mask his words with certainty like he usually did. "I'll get there when I get there. My parents are visiting Claire for the weekend... What do you want to do?"
Dave smiled and shook his head. "S'a surprise." Setting a hand on Blaine's back, he began walking out toward his parents' car, assuming they were either there already, or would be soon. "But... I dunno, it's just been a long time coming, and you deserve... something tonight, since those fucking judges have brain damage."
"... Where are we going?" he asked, shooting a curious look up to Dave, the couple soon forgotten in lieu of his confusion at where they were currently headed. He'd been assigned the duty of shuttling both Thad and Trent back to Dalton once they were ready. Which wouldn't be for a while if Thad's conversation with Emily and Trent's avid discussion with a few of the girls from Aural Intensity had anything to do with it. "Did you park back here? Are you taking me for ice cream? Because we both know how well that worked out last time."
"Um, it worked out pretty awesome," the taller boy shot back with an arched brow. "I seem to remember your hand ending up in my pants. And yes, we're parked back here, and no I'm not going to tell you what's going on, so just try to breathe."
Blaine blinked at that. Dave was right, of course, but... he really didn't need that sparkling clear memory rolling around in his head while he was still reeling over their losing Regionals.
Despite how dry his throat was, Blaine gulped the moment Dave's car came into sight and he saw his parents standing just beside it at the trunk of their own car, conversing with Judy Fabray and Quinn, who was positively glowing. Not that Quinn ever stopped glowing, but that was beside the point.
Dave took in a sharp breath at the sight of Quinn and her mother. Santana and Sam were the only New Directions kids he was comfortable with, and the blonde, ex-head Cheerio was on the opposite end of the spectrum for him. She was popular, which amounted to judgmental and bitchy, and not to mention she was from a hardcoreChristian family. Quinn was obviously okay with gays (and kissing girls herself if tales from the Rachel Berry Train Wreck Extravaganza were to be believed), but he had no idea about her family, as such, he distanced himself from Blaine for the time being.
When Monica spotted the two boys, she quietly excused herself from the conversation, running over in her low heels and crushing Blaine to her chest. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured. "I know how hard you and your boys worked on that." Pulling back, she beamed a wide smile at him that creased her face with laugh lines. "I'm sending Dave over with a plate of peanut butter biscotti tomorrow."
Quinn arched her eyebrow at that, more interested in their conversation than her mother's. "When did you adopt Blaine, Mrs. Karofsky?"
"When I sang my way into her heart, clearly," Blaine countered with a toothy smile. It was a smile that Quinn recognized immediately, having grown up in a privileged family of her own. When you weren't interested in exchanging niceties - which, frankly, he wasn't at that point; not with her - you gave them the widest, most effortlessly faked smile you could manage. It meant you weren't interested in continuing the conversation without saying a word.
Quinn nodded, hands laced in front of her as she looked to Dave. "Go, go McKinley High, hm?" she said, voice chipper as a similar smile attached itself to her face. Bouncing slightly in place, she turned on her heel and stood beside her mother as the woman finished her conversation with Paul.
Blaine looked back to Monica with a tired, but happy expression. "That sounds amazing," he murmured, brows slanting upwards. "And delicious."
The older woman just smiled, pressing an affectionate kiss to his gelled hair. "My specialty." Finally letting Blaine free of her embrace, she turned to her son, tilting her head off to the side. "Alright. There's something wrong." Monica took a few steps over to stand in front of him, only bothering with an uninterested wave without even looking back when Judy said her goodbyes. "Come on then. Out with it," she teased, crossing her arms over her chest as Paul appeared at her side, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders.
"Is there a problem?" Dave's father asked in a light tone.
"Dave has something he wants to say. Don't you, honey?"
"I-I didn't even-" Dave sighed. He hated when his mom did this. She could read anyonelike a damn book, and he was no different. Being cornered like this made him second guess himself. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe this was a bad time. Then he looked over at Blaine, who was shooting him a curious look, and it was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. His brows were slanted up, eyes wide, head tilted off to the side, and Dave was about two seconds from telling his parents what was up without using one word.
But he had to do this. He had to do it for himself, and for Blaine, and for them. Rolling his shoulders back, he nodded. "Yeah... I do. And it's... it's important. And... I dunno, you might hate me for it. But I... I'm not gonna pretend anymore, not with you guys."
Dave's heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly he was sure they could all hear it. His palms were sweaty, throat tight, and tears were threatening to well in his eyes. All three of them were looking at him with open concern, and he saw Blaine's hands twitch the way they always did whenever he wanted to touch him but didn't because he was afraid of how Dave would react.
That was what pushed him forward.
"Mom... Dad... I'm-" Dave's breathing hitched as he inhaled; he let go of it slowly, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I'm... I'm gay." In order to avoid looking at his parents' reaction, he turned to Blaine, managing what might've been the weakest smile of his life. He took the other boy's hand. "And. And Blaine's my boyfriend."
Blaine was about ninety-nine percent sure his heart stopped the moment the word gay passed Dave's lips. When he told his parents that what he had to say was important, that he wasn't going to pretend anymore, the way he looked at him - he'd considered the possibility of this being what he wanted to say. But the reality of it still surprised him. And only when he felt Dave grab his hand did he feel his heart start pounding in his chest again.
He couldn't look at Dave's parents. He was too busy staring at Dave, too busy tightening his fingers in a squeeze around his, too busy looking up at him with no small measure of awe. Blaine couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe what had just happened and what the guy standing next to him had gone through in order to get to this spot.
Even if his parents didn't react well to the news, nothing would be able to wipe that look off of his face - that starry eyed look with parted lips and cheeks that were flushed with excitement spurred on from what had just happened.
"David, honey," Monica said softly, after a few moments of silence, "would you look at us, please? You, too, Blaine." When they both obeyed, she nodded, looking back at her husband for a brief second, then turning back to the two teenagers in front of her. "I... we've suspected for awhile now." She bit back a smile at her son's confused face. "Well, the trouble you got into with Kurt... we never brought you up to be hateful, David. I know you too well to believe that was the case. And, well..." Her golden-brown eyes flicked over to the other boy, an amused little smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "My son may be able to hide his emotions, but you? Oh, I knew the moment you were in love. And it wasn't the unrequited kind, either."
Dave couldn't do anything but gape. They knew? How did they know? His mom seemed... fine with it? What about his- "D-dad?" God, he hatedhow weak his voiced sounded, how much of a little boy he felt whenever he did something he perceived as disappointing to his father. "I-I... I don't know what-" He swallowed thickly, squeezing Blaine's hand a bit too tightly, though his boyfriend refused to flinch away.
Before he could even try to finish, Paul crossed over the short distance to his son, thick brows cinched over his nose. "David... did you- did I ever... give you the impression that I could possibly hate you? For anything, let alone... let alone something that you have no control over?"
Neither Dave nor his parents noticed the tears that sprung up into Blaine's eyes. He preferred it that way. This was about Dave and Dave's family and he should have stayed in the moment, but he couldn't. The moment he heard Paul Karofsky say that and heard how honest he was down to his voice, he felt like he'd be punched in the stomach. Taking a slow breath through his nose, he blinked once and then twice, thick lashes clumping together as he fought to get the tears out of his eyes.
Dipping his head down a little, his cheeks twitched into a smile and he tightened his own grasp around Dave's hand, eyes averted for just long enough to clear them and look back in the vague direction of everyone eyes. They roamed over the three others, not lingering for long enough for any of them to realize just how pale he'd gotten in no more than the last minute.
In his state, Dave couldn't feelBlaine like he normally did. If he hadn't been so caught up in the moment, he could've picked up his boyfriend's tension and unease while blind and deaf, but he was. So he let go of his hand, wrapping his arms around his father's chest and letting out a wet, but entirely relieved sob into his shoulder. He'd spent so much time agonizing. So much time fearing that they would hate him, call him names, disown him forever, that he'd completely disregarded the years of acceptance and love he'd experienced.
It didn't take long for his mother to squeeze in next to his father, and Dave accommodated her, wrapping an arm around them each as they both stroked his back with a single hand. He was calming down until his mom murmured, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be," from some book she used to always read to him when he was a kid. That was when Dave choked out a wail, curling his arms between his two parents and wedging himself between them.
And Blaine watched them, a tiny smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms. His shoulders curled inwards a little and his vision blurred as he watched Dave settled between the two of them. He could tell that he was crying, though the sounds had trailed off into sniffs and quiet gasps for air. It hurt to hear those sounds, but seeing him so welcomed and relieved felt good. There was no way to even describe how happy he was for him.
Paul was twisting his neck to rest his cheek on Dave's shoulder when he caught the smile on Blaine's lips. They had talked quite often these past months, and while he wasn't as close to the boy as Monica was, he was intensely appreciative of what he had done for his son. Even more so now that the final piece of the puzzle clicked in place.
Offering him a warm smile, Dave's father took a step back and opened one arm in a simple invitation, gesturing for him to join them with his hand. The sudden lack of his dad right by his side caused Dave to turn and look at Blaine with red, watery eyes, but an undoubtedly loving curve to his lips. He extended his arm, holding out his hand for Blaine.
That's all it took.
Blaine hurried to Dave's side, reaching for his hand, immediately clinging onto it with both of his own, and leaning into the hug he felt around his shoulders. Suddenly he was fourteen again and he was in the hug he should have gotten, feeling the warmth and love he should have felt. The worst part was that he understood how his family reacted and accepted it for the norm. He figured that what happened with him was what happened with every gay teen in the world. But then he'd gotten the story out of Kurt about the night he came out to his dad, when he came out to his friends. And now he was seeing yet another brilliant show of how it could have been.
That thought prompted him to turn his face and bury it into Dave's shoulder, eyes clamped tight and fingers squeezing his.
Blaine's obvious upset hit Dave like a truck. All at once, he realized what this must've been like for him, and that was more than enough for him to gather the remnants of his strength and break away from his parents in favor of wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him as close as he possibly could.
Monica and Paul lingered for a minute or two, the former pressing a kiss to both of their temples and the latter smoothing his hand over Blaine's back while gripping his son's shoulder, but they eventually pulled away, his father quietly mentioning that they were going for a walk and would be back soon.
Dave didn't acknowledge them. Instead, he tightened his embrace, fingertips digging into the fabric of his uniform. "I got you, Blaine," he whispered into his hair, voice rough and broken. "I-I'm right here; I won't let go."
Blaine's throat was raw from holding everything back. He felt like he should have cried. Letting everything out would have been easier, but it wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to ruin the moment just as much as he didn't want this to still effect him as much as it did. So instead of crying, instead of letting it get to him and reduce him to tears again, he sniffed then back and wrapped his arms around Dave's waist, squeezing him and holding himself as close as he physically could.
Pressing an array of kisses over the top of Blaine's head, Dave frantically searched for something to say. Anything. Anything to make it better, to make the pain stop. He couldn't stand to see the boy in his arms hurting.
It took a minute of just holding him, of listening to the hitches in Blaine's breath as he tried to control himself, when he finally found the words he was looking for. "I love you," he said, strong and loud despite the tightness of his throat. "God, I love you so much, Blaine. I wanted- I wanted to show you that. I'm... I'm just a coward."
Dave wanted to keep his boyfriend as close as he could, but for this, he needed to look into his eyes. Pulling back the minimum amount necessary, he leaned down as well, until their foreheads were nearly touching. "I love you, okay? I'm-I'm not... I'm not ashamed of you. Of us. Of how I feel about you." He sucked on his bottom lip briefly. "I know I act like it... most of the time, but I swear to God, I'm not. You mean... the entire damn world to me."
"You're not a coward," Blaine breathed out, shutting his eyes for a moment to press his forehead against Dave's. "A coward wouldn't have done that, and you know it."
When he pulled back just enough to look at him, Blaine opened his eyes and smiled up at him. His own eyes were still damp, but he was past the danger zone. He had Dave's arms wrapped around him, and he was saying those romantic things that made his heart ache in the best ways. "I love you, too," he murmured, sliding his arms up until his hands were resting on the bottoms of his cheeks. Dave had done all of this for him, to assure him that this relationship was a two way street and that he loved being with him. While it wasn't something that Blaine ever questioned, it might have eventually gotten to that point, if not for this. "I'm so proud of you. You were amazing."
The taller boy shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose to fight back the tears that were coming far too easily for his liking at the moment. "I never woulda been able to do this without you," Dave murmured. His tone was so sincere, it nearly cracked. "You're... you're so strong. Inspirational." The corners of his mouth picked up in a tiny smile. "Really hope I can be as brave as you one day."
"The guy I met a few months ago," Blaine began, thumb stroking absently over the skin just beside the corner of Dave's mouth, "He wouldn't have been able to do that. He couldn't even admit to himself that he was gay." Staring up at him, he couldn't help his pride as he thought about how far he'd come since meeting up with him in the parking lot. Then, he'd been afraid Dave would hit him. And now? Now Dave was loving him. And he'd come to terms with himself and came out to his parents.
Smiling a little to himself, Blaine's hands slipped to the back of Dave's neck and guided him down closer to his height. It took him a moment - his attention caught up by having his face so close to his - but he pressed a kiss right to the bridge of his nose. "I'd say that you're a lot braver than you think you are."