blur ; pg-13
“I think we need to talk.”
He’s there. Hummel, with a suave, stuck-up looking rich boy. They’re both staring him down, and Dave’s heart twists. His mouth gets the better of him, as usual, and his fists join in shoving the private school kid.
Hummel gets in the way, and he flees, feeling the burn of a smirk on his back.
**
He’s there again.
He makes his way towards them, and bumps none too lightly against Hummel’s shoulder while giving a death glare to the other boy standing next to him. “What the fuck’s he doing here.”
The singer’s face scrunches into confusion, but Karofsky’s long gone.
**
“Hello.”
Dave whirls around, only to come face to face with Pretty Eyes again.
“I’m warning you, you fucking try to make me your charity case…”
The boy laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nothing of the sort.”
Dave snorts, “then go back to Hummel.”
“I’m not looking for Kurt.” A short pause. “I came to see you.”
Dave rolls his eyes. “Don’t need a fag following me around,” he clips, but Blaine takes the opportunity to tug at Dave’s polo shirt and points toward the school’s exit. “Coffee. My treat.”
“Forget it,” Dave sneers, and disappears down an adjacent hall, picking up his pace. It’s not until he’s at the very end of the corridor that he dares to look back.
The boy isn’t there anymore.
**
He finds him a week later, leaning against a street light in the parking lot of Walmart. Dave nearly rams the shopping cart into his stomach, but the boy sidesteps out of the way and breezes next to him. “I’m Blaine. Here’s your coffee.” A paper cup is shoved into his hands, and Dave nearly drops it in shock.
“How did you-”
“Was around. Saw you. Thought to say hi. Cheers.” He downs his espresso, chucks it in a recycling bin and strolls away.
Dave opens the lid and takes a sniff. Cinnamon. His mouth waters but he doesn’t dare to take a sip.
It’s not until Dave gets home that he realizes that there’s a phone number looping around the cup and a short “Call me ♥” at the bottom.
He throws the cup at the neighbor’s screeching cat and shuffles into the house, grocery in tow.
**
“You didn’t call me,” Blaine accuses lightly, no bite or spite as he sits cross-legged on top of Dave’s pick-up truck, a smile tugging at his lips while Dave glares at him, pointing towards the ground. “Get the fuck off! And while you’re at it, get the fuck out of here!”
“Take me somewhere.”
“To hell!” Dave climbs up the back of the truck and swings his fist at Blaine’s stupid, stupid, handsome shit-eating grin, not making contact as Blaine stands up and jumps down the six feet to the other side of the vehicle and slides into the passenger seat. “I want Chinese.”
Dave goes back inside the house. Fuck going to Azimio’s today.
**
He’s picking up a pizza, clicking his knuckles on top of the cheap plastic countertop, freckled to look like marble. He spots Blaine- that kid, in the corner, sipping on a coke through a straw, from a red 32 oz 7-11 cup. He averts his eyes, but it’s too late, as Blaine saunters up to him.
“It’s been awhile, Dave.”
Dave doesn’t say anything, storming out of the pizzeria, intent on waiting in his freezing truck for the pie instead. Maybe if he ignores him, he’ll just go awa-
“You know Kurt doesn’t love you.”
Dave stops dead in his tracks, his teeth grinding, feeling his fists balling up.
“He told me how much you terrify him.” Blaine goes on, entirely too nonchalantly given the subject matter. “You’re the epitome of his nightmares. You’re vioatle, brash, selfish, crass, and reckless.”
“So you’re here to rub it in my face.”
“I’m here because he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
He’s there. Hummel, with a suave, stuck-up looking rich boy. They’re both staring him down, and Dave’s heart twists. His mouth gets the better of him, as usual, and his fists join in shoving the private school kid.
Hummel gets in the way, and he flees, feeling the burn of a smirk on his back.
**
He’s there again.
He makes his way towards them, and bumps none too lightly against Hummel’s shoulder while giving a death glare to the other boy standing next to him. “What the fuck’s he doing here.”
The singer’s face scrunches into confusion, but Karofsky’s long gone.
**
“Hello.”
Dave whirls around, only to come face to face with Pretty Eyes again.
“I’m warning you, you fucking try to make me your charity case…”
The boy laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nothing of the sort.”
Dave snorts, “then go back to Hummel.”
“I’m not looking for Kurt.” A short pause. “I came to see you.”
Dave rolls his eyes. “Don’t need a fag following me around,” he clips, but Blaine takes the opportunity to tug at Dave’s polo shirt and points toward the school’s exit. “Coffee. My treat.”
“Forget it,” Dave sneers, and disappears down an adjacent hall, picking up his pace. It’s not until he’s at the very end of the corridor that he dares to look back.
The boy isn’t there anymore.
**
He finds him a week later, leaning against a street light in the parking lot of Walmart. Dave nearly rams the shopping cart into his stomach, but the boy sidesteps out of the way and breezes next to him. “I’m Blaine. Here’s your coffee.” A paper cup is shoved into his hands, and Dave nearly drops it in shock.
“How did you-”
“Was around. Saw you. Thought to say hi. Cheers.” He downs his espresso, chucks it in a recycling bin and strolls away.
Dave opens the lid and takes a sniff. Cinnamon. His mouth waters but he doesn’t dare to take a sip.
It’s not until Dave gets home that he realizes that there’s a phone number looping around the cup and a short “Call me ♥” at the bottom.
He throws the cup at the neighbor’s screeching cat and shuffles into the house, grocery in tow.
**
“You didn’t call me,” Blaine accuses lightly, no bite or spite as he sits cross-legged on top of Dave’s pick-up truck, a smile tugging at his lips while Dave glares at him, pointing towards the ground. “Get the fuck off! And while you’re at it, get the fuck out of here!”
“Take me somewhere.”
“To hell!” Dave climbs up the back of the truck and swings his fist at Blaine’s stupid, stupid, handsome shit-eating grin, not making contact as Blaine stands up and jumps down the six feet to the other side of the vehicle and slides into the passenger seat. “I want Chinese.”
Dave goes back inside the house. Fuck going to Azimio’s today.
**
He’s picking up a pizza, clicking his knuckles on top of the cheap plastic countertop, freckled to look like marble. He spots Blaine- that kid, in the corner, sipping on a coke through a straw, from a red 32 oz 7-11 cup. He averts his eyes, but it’s too late, as Blaine saunters up to him.
“It’s been awhile, Dave.”
Dave doesn’t say anything, storming out of the pizzeria, intent on waiting in his freezing truck for the pie instead. Maybe if he ignores him, he’ll just go awa-
“You know Kurt doesn’t love you.”
Dave stops dead in his tracks, his teeth grinding, feeling his fists balling up.
“He told me how much you terrify him.” Blaine goes on, entirely too nonchalantly given the subject matter. “You’re the epitome of his nightmares. You’re vioatle, brash, selfish, crass, and reckless.”
“So you’re here to rub it in my face.”
“I’m here because he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”