More post-ep reaction fic. Blaine wants to meet Chandler. Blaine has ~a plan.~
“I want to meet him.”
“Blaine, you don’t—”
“I’m not,” Blaine smiles, cutting Kurt off, because he knows he was going to say You don’t have to worry and he’s not. Or at least, he won’t be. “You’re right. It will be good for you to already have a friend when you move. I just want to meet him.”
And Blaine does want to meet him. He thinks Kurt will feel better, less guilty, about being friends with this guy if Blaine knows him. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to scope him out. It’s like in that episode of Grey’s Anatomy where the guy is shooting everyone in the hospital and April starts spouting off random information about herself because she read that if you humanize yourself to a murderer, they’re less likely to kill you. Maybe if he meets Blaine, knows him and possibly even likes him, he won’t pull the proverbial trigger. If he’s scared of him, even better.
That was Wednesday. Now it’s Friday, and Kurt and Blaine are going to go bowling with Chandler. Chandler doesn’t drive, or his car is in the shop, or something, so Kurt is tasked with driving across town to pick him up while Blaine works on saying his name in a way that doesn’t imply italics or air quotes or anything else that seems condescending or hostile. Because he’s not; he does want Kurt to have friends, needs him to, just like he needs to have friends here in Lima, because if they’re miserable it’s going to be even harder to survive the distance. So he sends Kurt off after school with a kiss and a wave and tells him to come by the house at 6 with Chandler.
He says it a few times out loud until it’s neutral, even friendly. Chandler. Chandler.
It is, of course, very inconvenient that he loses track of time, gets into a zone and is still going toe to toe with the speed bag in his basement when he hears the front door open, Kurt’s voice faint and carrying over the rapid chattering of an unfamiliar voice as it drifts down the stairs.
Blaine jogs up the stairs, schooling his face into something less amused when he sees Kurt’s eyes widen at his sudden appearance in the archway. Kurt’s mentioned before how much he likes how Blaine looks post-workout, panting and sweaty, and it still holds true, if the slight blush working its way across Kurt’s cheeks is any indication.
“Hey, babe,” Blaine smirks, closing the distance between them to press a kiss to the corner of Kurt’s mouth, letting his tongue graze the skin just enough to make Kurt visibly suppress a shiver. It’s only then that he spares a glance for their guest and reaches out, only to pull his hand back at the last second.
“I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, raising his wrist to his mouth to bite at the tape (and ok, maybe that’s a little much, if Kurt’s barely covered snort is any indication) until he can shake one of the gloves off and extend his hand with a sugary smile. “I’m Blaine.”
“Chandler,” the boy responds, and it seems like he’s going to say something else, but the words die on his tongue as Blaine holds his gaze while they shake hands, maybe with a bit too much grip force on Blaine’s end. He’s cute, sort of, in the way that Blaine wants to ruffle his hair a little; he’s on the shorter side, at least as short as Blaine, and Blaine puffs out his chest, straightens a little as he pulls his hand back. He might even have half an inch on him.
“Sorry I lost track of time, I can get a little…intense. When I’m boxing,” Blaine shrugs, ignoring another of Kurt’s muffled snorts as he pulls off his other glove. He slips into the kitchen with a parting squeeze to Kurt’s waist, reappearing with a Gatorade and downing half of it in one go; if the way he lifts his arm to drink exposes the admittedly tough looking cluster of scars at the top of his ribs, that’s just a coincidence. Can’t be helped, really. When he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks up to see that Chandler is still just kind of looking at him, brow furrowed and teeth digging slightly into his bottom lip, and Blaine grins again as he tries to put his arm back around Kurt’s waist, pouting when he’s pushed away.
“You’re gross,” Kurt says, pushing at his arm. “Go shower.”
“You like me gross,” Blaine counters, but shrugs and pulls his tank top over his head, playfully brandishing it at Kurt’s face as Kurt continues shoving him toward the stairs. “I’ll be quick. Help yourselves to whatever you want!” Blaine sighs happily as he reaches the landing and heads into his bathroom, satisfied with his attempt at intimidation. He’s pretty sure he hears “Your boyfriend is a little scary. And ripped” just before he closes the door, and flexes his arms in the mirror. Damn straight.
When he opens his bathroom door 15 minutes later, Kurt is leaning against the opposite wall looking thoroughly unimpressed, dodging Blaine’s attempt at a kiss to press one to his forehead, instead.
“You have a punching bag in your basement,” Kurt says firmly. “You’re not making him one, too.”
“It you really aren’t ok with me being friends with him, we’ll talk about it. But that caveman act? Not so much, Blaine. You might as well have written ‘Property of Blaine’ across my forehead and marked me with your scent.”
“Like you’d let me anywhere near you with a Sharpie,” Blaine tries for the joke, but Kurt’s just staring at him in the way that makes Blaine feel like he’s looking right through him.
“Ok,” Blaine nods finally, smiling a little sheepishly as he feels his cheeks heat up under Kurt’s gaze. He leans in for another kiss, this one accepted, and tilts his forehead against Kurt’s when he pulls back with a long exhale. “Ok. I’ll be down in a few.” Kurt smacks his ass as he turns to head toward his bedroom, so Blaine knows he isn’t actually mad, just like Blaine isn’t actually jealous.
It’s kind of a relief, really; Blaine doesn’t like being cool and aloof and tough. It’s boring. And god, did he actually try to vice grip that kid like some meathead? He’s pretty sure Finn tried that on him at first, and he remembers thinking how obnoxious it was. Thankfully, Kurt is always around to save him from his own stupidity.
When he runs down the stairs ten minutes later, Chandler is talking animatedly about one of the guys he met at his NYU tour, waving his hands while Kurt laughs, but he stops as soon as Blaine comes into view. Blaine frowns for a moment before realizing that it probably just makes him look angry and finally shakes his head, chuckling a little as he hops down the last step.
“Sorry I took so long,” he smiles, and he knows it’s genuine not only because it feels natural onto his face, but because Kurt returns it with one of his own. Chandler looks back and forth between them for a moment and Blaine claps him lightly on the shoulder.
“It is your job,” Blaine says solemnly. “To get that guy in a room with Kurt. And send me a video of it.” There’s a long moment where Chandler just looks at him, and then he laughs, a sudden bark of a sound, before grabbing Blaine’s arm and picking up the story where he left off.
“And then he jumped on the stage after the demonstration even though we were just supposed to be waiting for the guide to get back and was like ‘THIS is how wings are actually done!’ and was trying to do it in loafers and he kicked one into the seats and fell on his ass and oh my GOD if I have to deal with that guy on a daily basis you are going to have to drive to New York and bail me out of jail.”
“Kurt might be closer,” Blaine points out as they head for the front door, and Blaine catches Kurt’s smile from the corner of his eye as their fingers tangle together.
“No, I’m going to need him to help me hide the body, you’ll be coming for both of us,” Chandler insists, the “duh” evident in his raised eyebrows as he jumps into the back seat of Kurt’s Navigator.
Blaine laughs then, brushing his lips across Kurt’s knuckles before he opens the passenger door and slides into his own seat.