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Waiting for Forever
Year Seven: Wool
"Hmm tickles!" Burrowing under the thick pillow, Blaine hid from the flare of the early morning light. Pleasant exhaustion pulled at his body dragging him further down. He wasn't sure what Sam was doing but the light touches felt good, too good as his previously limp cock struggled back to life for the third time.
'Honey," Sam chuckled the light gusts of his breath ghosting over the small of his back. "You need stamina."
"We've been up for hours." Blaine moaned. "I need sleep." He shivered, arching his back instinctively as Sam began to tongue up his spine, drawing wetly on his skin in slow lazy circles.
"Are you sick of me already?" Sam asked.
Blaine roused enough to utter an emphatic, "Never." Closing his eyes as the pillow was ripped off his head and tossed to the floor. He loved the feel of Sam's body heavy on his, his fingers curling, the hot mouth sucking and nibbling behind his ear. Christ! Hot impatient fingers played in his sweat-dampened curls, unerringly finding the sensitive spot at the back of his neck. He would never get used to how easily and how often Sam touched him.
It stopped his breath the first time Sam touched him that way in public, his thumb stroking just behind his ear giving him a knowing grin. The slow slide of his fingers into his hair was constant. It wasn't always overtly sexual; sometimes it felt like Sam didn't even know he was doing it. Either way the last jar of gel Blaine bought sat collecting dust on his shelves.
It had been really tough between them the first couple of weeks. Foolishly he'd expected that with Sam in New York their relationship would just magically work out. Obviously he needed a stronger wand or a more attentive fairy godmother because between Sam's long work hours and his erratic ones there was never enough time in the day.
It hadn't just been their schedules that were out of sync; their entire dynamic was off. Six years apart had molded them into two separate entities. Sam was a workaholic, fiercely independent, and used to answering only to himself. He forgot their third date and fell asleep during the fourth.
To be fair, Blaine shouldn't have dragged him to the midnight screening of Psycho knowing he'd just pulled a double shift but after years of third, fifth and seventh wheeling with Puck and Rachel, Kurt and his date and now Jake and his new girlfriend, he'd been so excited to go with Sam - it had been going well until the snoring. Not even the endless teasing Blaine got from the group stirred him.
"Dude, I know you're excited that he's back." Puck started. "But you should your let your boy sleep every once in awhile."
"He's tired from work." Blaine explained attempting to shake Sam awake.
"Right 'work'." He emphasized starting another round of laughter until the other patrons shushed them.
Blaine shook his head at the sight Sam made, head tossed back, trumpeting away. His efforts to make every single moment count were useless if Sam wasn't awake to appreciate them. Waking him, he decided to stop trying to chase down romance and be a half way decent friend to his best friend. He didn't have to impress him; being with him was more than enough. So he took Sam home and put him to bed and sent out a mass text threatening all their friends with extreme bodily harm if they came anywhere near his apartment for the next two days. They all blew up his inbox with various, inventive, and downright dirty suggestions but they stayed away.
A weekend of Marvel and videogames was exactly what they needed and somewhere between the third truly awful Ghost Rider and the second Captain America, Sam kissed him murmuring a heartfelt thank you against his lips. Every day after that had been better than the last and after four months of rediscovery he found he didn't just love the new Sam, he also really liked him and the long slow kisses he gave that made him dizzy and his hands. His knowing hands that were now stroking up Blaine's back, setting fire to his skin.
"You feel so good." Sam murmured in his ear, nipping his shoulder, knees pressing between his thighs. Blaine started to shake. It felt so damn good.
Their sex life had been the one part of their relationship that had had him worried but the second they were alone they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They made love and other times they just fucked. Emerging breathless and giddy from a club bathroom, a situation made somehow less sordid because he was finally with the right man.
Sure they'd been together that way before but they never discussed their past lovers. Obviously Sam had been with other guys before him, his comfort and ease with the male form right from the beginning was unmistakable. This became both a blessing and a curse for Blaine. Ridiculously he had wanted to be his first but realistically he should be sending whoever taught Sam so well flowers. Surely there was a 'Thank you for the orgasms' bouquet created for situations like these.
Sam surged to his knees regaining his attention by giving him a light slap on the butt. "Pay attention."
"That's hot."
They both jerked apart turning to the open doorway to find Brittany S. Pearce still in her fire dancer costume that was more glitter than fabric watching them. God! How long had she been standing there?
"Britt!" Blaine yelled as Sam dragged the covers over both of them. "We talked about boundaries."
"You said I could come into your bedroom if I really needed something." She tilted the bright blue bowl in her hand, milk sloshing dangerously to the edge. "You're out of cereal."
"There's cereal in the cabinet above the stove."
"It doesn't have marshmallows I checked." Blaine groaned at the thought of the mess she must have made, tearing through four boxes of cereal like she had the last time.
Sam squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Brittany could you wait in the kitchen? I will come help you find your cereal." As she left he turned to Blaine, "I thought you got back all your keys."
"I tried." Blaine sighed. "Can we not have this discussion while your ex is tracking glitter all over my apartment?"
Sam kissed him quick and rolled off the bed yanking on his pants. "When is Santana coming back?"
"Sunday. I think. Britt wouldn't be working so hard if she was around."
"Have you been to see her show at the casino?"
"Yeah, it is incredible. The stage rotates round the room and they have lots of cool pyrotechnics. I would never have put Brittany and fire together but the entire act will take your breath away. She wasn't named in the top 50 must see live acts in New York for nothing." Blaine replied. "Do you want to see it?"
"Only if you're cool with it."
"I am." Why wouldn't he be? "But Sam?" He called waiting until the other man turned round. "Wear a shirt."
Sam gave him a shameless grin catching the t-shirt Blaine tossed at him covering his torso before he left.
Blaine dragged himself out of bed and had a quick shower. He was starving. The sight of Sam and Britt's heads touching as they whispered, he smiled remembering how much that used to bother him.
"Tsk! Tsk! Look who finally crawled out of bed." Kurt emerged from the behind them.
"Morning Kurt." Blaine turned, cutting the snarky remarks short. He knew it wasn't a personal attack. It was just Kurt being Kurt. "When did you get here?"
When Sam had first moved back he'd worried about how they would get along. He near killed himself running interference in every conversation they had, afraid to leave them alone together especially since Sam embraced his do-gooder side and Kurt fully immersed himself in fashion and the cultural scene, Blaine was the one thing they had left in common.
He would have continued to run himself ragged until Sam pulled him aside one day and said, "Stop it. Kurt and I both care about you we will find a way to get along. Now stop hovering, you're making things weird."
Pouting hard, Blaine finally left them alone even though he never went far. Just in case.
"About ten minutes ago. I thought we were going to Midtown to get some Very Berry Brioche French toast instead of regular French toast." Kurt poked at Sam's plate to make his point. "No very. No berry. Certainly no brioche."
Blaine reached past Kurt for a cup. "The basic combo of eggs, milk and bread is the same so eat up."
"But I thought we were celebrating?"
"Your fashion launch thing? I thought that wasn't for a few months." Sam sounded puzzled. He turned to Blaine, the custodian of their social engagements. "I didn't miss it, did I?"
"No. Blaine got the lead in Warhol, it's going to be the next big thing on Broadway." Ignoring all his desperate signals, Kurt plunged in over sharing. "It's an Andrew Lloyd Webber production, the music alone will be phenomenal. It could be bigger than Phantom."
"Nothing's bigger than Phantom." Brittany chimed in.
"Rent boys all over the city have been gobbling down cock in dressing rooms and alleys for a chance to audition for that part. You got it." Kurt tossed his arms in the air, voice high and shrill. "Why aren't you screaming from the rooftops?"
Even over that ruckus he heard Sam's quieter, "You started auditioning?"
Kurt's shriek reduced to a heavy laden, "Oh!" He glanced between them then picked up the nearby newspaper, pretending to skim through it.
Blaine dodged Sam's hurt stare. "Can we talk about this after I get back? Dalton needs his walk." It was completely made up and he knew Sam knew but he didn't want their first fight to be in front of his ex and Sam's ex… And the whirlwind that was Rachel that just burst through the front door with a truly massive bouquet of cookies just as he escaped sans dog.
xxXxx
Tilting his head back, Blaine contemplated the bright sky, sun through the wisteria. A light breeze ruffled through his curls as he rested, enjoying the solitude in the arbor of the rooftop garden of his building.
Many a night had been spent up here, ranting and raving, indulging in lots of 'angsty' venting and endless arguments with himself, God, the universe but they were nothing compared to the fights he had over the years with an absentee Sam. Lost in memory, he looked back startled as the squeak of hinges disturbed his tranquility.
"I knew you'd be up here." Sam said as he wandered over, plucking a pointy familiar leaf off one of the plants. "One of your neighbors is growing more than heirloom tomatoes."
"That's Mr. Keegan's. I think he's going for a Cocoon meets Weeds meets Breaking Bad kind of lifestyle." Blaine couldn't help but smile at the thought of the pot-growing septuagenarian. "When I'm 70, I plan on getting high all the time too."
"I didn't know you smoked."
"A lot happened while you were gone, Sam."
"Well" Sam leaned on the red brick wall in front of him. "I plan on being there when you're 70. You might need some help – you know - steering your walker, wouldn't want you to fall and break a hip. How would I explain it to the grandkids?"
"Tell them grandpa was a rebel."
"Nothing says rebel like polka dot bowties."
"I can be classy and a rebel, the two aren't mutually exclusive."
"Too classy to be 'gobbling down cock in a dressing room'?" Sam demonstrated with his hands, ugly quotation marks slamming into place.
Stunned by the verbal attack amidst their banter, Blaine pushed to his feet, sending the bench rocking. "I did not do that."
"Hey" Sam interrupted. "Of course you didn't. I know you. You wouldn't do that to yourself or to me. I just – I don't understand why didn't you tell me you were auditioning. Kurt and Rachel blasted my ears off after you left. I know I don't follow the Broadway rags as much as you guys, okay – at all - but it sounds like the role of a lifetime and you hid it from me."
"I don't want it."
"Blaine, you beat out hundreds of people to get that part." Sam insisted. 'I don't understand."
For a long moment Blaine was silent, trying to stack his words in a way that made sense out loud not just in his head. "You know the first time I got the role of Joseph in Two Cities, I was over the moon. Everything was in my grasp, getting up on stage every night to an adoring public, the screaming, the applause, the adulation was exactly how I dreamed my life would be. Then one day I couldn't hit a high note and my career was over that fast." He snapped his fingers. "One day I was on top of the world the next, I was forgotten. I lost more than just a job that day, I lost myself."
"You didn't tell me any of that?"
"I couldn't tell you because you have such big dreams for us and I felt like I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain."
Sam looked confused. "I never…"
"I know you didn't push me into anything Sammy, but you need to hear this as much as I need to say it." Blaine waited for his reluctant nod. "The moment that part came up, I had to have it. I wanted to prove that I could get it, that they didn't break me completely the first time round and I could get back on top if I wanted to. A huge part of me also wanted it for you, for the us you think we should be."
Sam's eyes were a mess. The way he was looking at Blaine made the conversation almost impossible to continue. He had to power through if they were to be different. Their lives had to be settled once and for all, not just for Sam but also for the both of them.
"I hated you sometimes you know." Blaine stared off into the distance then continued. "Having you gone all the time was absolute hell for me. Your constant absence tested me at every turn, my faith in you… in myself. I spent six years in limbo, unable to connect emotionally with anyone else, feeling such debilitating guilt when I did because I got so used to being yours, being what you needed when you needed. Sometimes, I got to thinking that maybe I should have turned you down all those years ago."
Sam crossed his arms, shoulders drooping giving him a less than convincing non committal, "Oh!"
"I know why you had to go. Looking at you now, how you've changed, I'm blown away by your compassion, your dedication to your work… Sam, I can't do what you do."
"If you're trying to break up with me, I think you're giving me the wrong idea."
"Break up?" Blaine scoffed verging on hysterical. "I haven't made it this far to give up now. I'm trying to tell you that I don't need another three years to know that you are exactly what I want. I don't need three minutes. After the past couple of years, I can say with absolute certainty that I will never love anyone as much as I love you. But I need you to understand that our time…our life, Sammy, is right now and I don't want you to miss it because you're chasing some dream life sprouted by an eighteen-year-old kid. Look around. Our dreams have changed."
Striding forward, Blaine raised his hand to Sam's strong jaw. "To me, you, we are perfect exactly the way that we are. I should have told you that seven years ago but I was just as much a dumb kid as you were but believe me when I tell you right now, we are already amazing. Trust me like I trusted you and let go."
"And I'm you want, a sometimes penniless almost social worker?"
Blaine laced their hands together squeezing his warm palm. "That snores. Don't forget the snoring."
"Hey," Sam protested laughing. "You can't cook for shit, you've almost killed me like three times already."
"Fine. This amateur filmmaker will very graciously let you do all the cooking while he buys earplugs." Blaine wouldn't really use them. Sometimes Sam jerked awake in the middle of the night disoriented and mumbling in Spanish, he had to get up to soothe him even if Sam never remembered any of it in the morning.
"You are absolutely sure you won't regret this? The musical I mean."
"My drive to succeed hasn't disappeared I'm just redirecting it a little. The way I figure it, I can work for Andrew Lloyd Webber now or I can work my ass off and be him in a couple of years…without all the divorces."
"I love you too even though saying it doesn't feel like enough after your speech." Sam trailed off pursing his lips. "But from now on you can have all the fancy French toast that you want."
"Nah! Yours is just as good and we should set up some sort of budget, college is expensive."
"Blaine" He groused. "It's for my degree. I can figure it out."
"We." Blaine persisted. "From now on Sammy, we are in this together. If you want to move to Sydney or Darfur then we talk about it. If it's that important to you, I'm coming with you. Okay?"
Sam put his hand over his, voice threatening to crack as he spoke. "Tyrant." He teased, lifting his head closing the narrow space between them, kissing him gently.
Minutes later they stumbled back into the apartment, Sam's hands kneading his ass through the pockets of his jeans. Lips fused in soft whimpers and whines, Blaine was pressing closer whimpering as Sam lifted him a couple feet of the floor. Damn near dropping him as the door swung open again.
"Great, you guys are home." Ryder brushed past them rushing inside. "I don't want to intrude given your - uh doing that – but I really need some advice."
Blaine followed him finding him pacing, "What about?"
"Jake."
Of course it was.
Sam came up behind him wrapping an arm around his waist, his lips brushing his nape as Ryder shoved up his sleeves and started to explain.
"Every time I start to date someone new, he shows up at my place saying he's sorry, he's changed and wants me back. I drop everything for him because I'm an idiot. Then inevitably he has a colossal freak-out because we ran into one of his coworkers at the store or whatever and decides he is straight again and I have to spend the next couple of months watching him with all these girls." He jerked, fists clenching. "I know the coming out process is different for everyone but I can't keep doing this; I mean you guys were apart for years and look at you now. I want what you have."
As Sam's arm tightened on him. Blaine realized that they'd been too good at concealing the problems they'd had over the past couple of years. Only Kurt and Tina and Artie had really known how badly things had gotten between them. They had been far from perfect, it's only right now that their relationship was anything to envy. "We were not perfect."
"And it wasn't easy." Sam spoke up.
Ryder didn't look like he believed a word of it as he collapsed to the couch. "I got an offer for a job in Boston. Should I go and forget about him?"
