The Exception to the Rule [2]
Title: The Exception to the Rule
Fandom: Glee
Written: July 2011
Rating: PG-13
Words: 17,000 [total]
Summary: AU; Blaine transfers to Carmel after the bullying at his old school reaches a peak. He auditions for Vocal Adrenaline, gets in, and quickly becomes the bane of Jesse's existence. Can they put their disputes to rest, or are they destined to hate each other forever?
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"Tell me something," Jesse said immediately, not waiting for any sort of silence to come between them or for Blaine to say anything more. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" Blaine teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't play that game with me," Jesse shot back, not a hint of amusement in his face. He wasn't interested in play games; he wanted answers. He was giving Blaine the chance to explain himself, giving them a chance to get out of this auditorium in less than three hours, and Blaine was choosing to waste that time instead.
"It's fun," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, sitting himself down at the piano bench.
"Fun?" Jesse rolled his eyes. "Blaine, we have a problem. And I don't know about you, but I really don't want to spend all night in this auditorium. Especially not with you. I have things I need to do, homework that needs finishing, and more importantly than that, I have show choir stuff to do. Your dedication to the club might begin and end with rehearsal, but it's my first priority outside of this auditorium as well."
"Good thing you're here, then," Blaine shot back. "Should be easy to work on show choir stuff in the auditorium where rehearsals are held."
They stared at each other. Jesse's hands had balled into fists, his arms tense at his sides. He wanted to leave this auditorium more than he wanted anything else, and apparently Blaine was willing to stay here if it meant pissing him off.
"This is ridiculous," Jesse decided. "I'm trying to do the right thing, and you're too busy trying to disagree with me to give that a shot."
He stomped off the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms, leaving Blaine sitting at the piano bench by himself. Rather than staying onstage with nothing to do but stare at the boy he hated, Jesse grabbed his backpack from where he'd thrown it under one of the vanities and set about turning the table usually used for makeup into a desk. While the trigonometry problems that needed his attention before the next morning weren't exactly the most appealing distraction, he supposed it would have to do.
About a half hour passed, Jesse still bent over his math textbook, his eyes sore from the bright lights. But he kept working, determined to have accomplished something before Ms. Corcoran came back, even if it wasn't what she was hoping they'd accomplish. He was on his last problem when a slightly larger problem decided it needed his attention.
Blaine was playing the piano.
Jesse had no idea if Blaine had been playing for a few seconds or since he'd sat down to work on math homework. He tuned out the world when working on homework, giving himself completely over to concentration. That was the only way he got things done, and in the two seconds he'd let his mind wander between math problems, he'd heard the music. And of course, now that his concentration was broken, he couldn't block the music out.
His foot began to tap, his pencil poised above the paper, looking up into the mirror but not seeing his reflection at all. His head started moving in time with the music as well, recognizing the song, his lips soundlessly forming the words that should have accompanied the music.
No. He needed to block out the music, pretend it wasn't there and that he was the only person back here. Taking advantage of the fact that the song was ending, Jesse stared at his math problem, waiting for it to end, listening to the notes slow until they faded away altogether.
He got about five seconds of uninterrupted math time, and then Blaine was playing the piano again. He'd chosen the title number from Beauty and the Beast this time, and Jesse had always had a soft spot for that song. Of course he wouldn't be able to concentrate, and of course he started singing along.
Jesse never really paid attention while he sang along, which meant that he didn't realize just how loudly he was singing along. He hadn't closed the door to the dressing room, which meant his voice had carried out into the auditorium itself, and when the song ended, Blaine called back, "Having fun?"
And he would have called back and said that yes, actually, he kind of was, except that Blaine had said it in a way that was clearly teasing him, clearly feeling superior because he'd managed to get Jesse to sing without even trying. So he didn't.
"Actually I'm trying to do my math homework," he started, but was cut off by Blaine laughing. Glaring at the open door, Jesse launched himself from the room, storming back out onto the stage.
"And why is that so funny?" he demanded.
"No reason," Blaine shrugged.
"But seriously, do you mind?" Jesse crossed his arms. "I really do want to finish this."
"And I really do want to play the piano."
"Oh my God, it's like your goal in life is to be the bane of my existence," Jesse suddenly shouted. "You never do anything properly and the second I want one thing, you automatically want the opposite! It's like it's the only thing that gives you joy in life, seeing me upset! What the hell is your problem?"
"Am I really the one with the problem?" Blaine asked. "Or is it possible that you're just too sensitive?"
Jesse just stared, open-mouthed at him. His breath was coming sharply in his chest, his anger physically paining him. He had never met someone as infuriating as Blaine Anderson, and it seemed that Blaine took savage pleasure in doing just that: infuriating him.
So Jesse marched back to the dressing room, grabbed his math book and his backpack, and came right back out onto the stage, dropping both his book and his bag onto the floor, the sound reverberating around the room. Then he dug in the outside pocket of his backpack, found his iPod, and turned up the volume. His ears would probably be ringing for hours afterwards, but sticking those headphones in his ears and drowning out any attempts Blaine might make to distract him felt wonderful.
Except now it was impossible to concentrate on anything, with music blaring in his ears. Jesse pretended to finish his last problem, jotting down random numbers onto the paper, then looked back up at Blaine, smirking.
Blaine had turned back to the piano and was presumably playing something else. Jesse couldn't see all of him, the instrument in question blocking his view, but his head was bowed, looking at the keys, his entire upper body animated as he played. His brow was creased in concentration, lips slightly parted. He even had a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Blaine had also blocked out the rest of the world, though he had chosen to make his own music rather than use headphones.
And as much as Jesse hated to admit it, Blaine looked very - he couldn't believe he was even thinking this - attractive like this. His hair was still mussed from rehearsal, and the way his entire body seemed to be moving with whatever song he was playing showed how much he did love what he was doing. Jesse took out the headphones, listening as Blaine played, watching him attentively.
"I didn't know you could play the piano," he said quietly and conversationally once Blaine had finished playing. Blaine looked up, jumping at the sound, obviously under the impression that Jesse really had tuned him out.
"Well, there aren't very many opportunities for the minorities to shine during practice," he snapped.
"Blaine, come on," Jesse groaned, falling backwards and lying down on the stage. "I'm just making conversation. Why does everything have to be an argument?"
Silence met him. Then:
"It's no fun when you don't argue back."
Jesse sat up, eyes fixed on Blaine once more, shaking his head.
"So you really do all this just for fun?"
Blaine sighed, his entire body sagging with that sigh, looking down at the keys on the piano again.
"I guess," he told the keys.
"Tell me something, honestly," Jesse implored. "Why did you leave your old school?"
Blaine looked up, and Jesse was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he admitted. "So how about we pretend that I told you I became too much of an annoyance for our lead singer in the choir, he tried to kick my ass but I ended up beating the shit out of him, and then I got expelled."
"You're tiny," Jesse reminded him. "You can't be taller than five foot four. Unless this guy was a midget, no way I'd believe that." He stood up, walking over to the piano and leaning against it. "Try again, Anderson."
More silence met this request, but this time Blaine retained eye contact with him. They looked at each other, Jesse taking in Blaine's appearance all over again, this time not pretending to see some sort of malice glinting in his eyes but instead seeing them for what they really were. They were a nice shade of brown, lighter than he remembered, but then again, now he wasn't looking for the shadow of Satan, so that probably changed how he saw them. They were also still shining, and Blaine was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from spilling over.
"Is this the part where I offer you a tissue or something?" Jesse asked, feeling a bit awkward.
Blaine sniffed in answer to the question.
"I'll take that as a yes," Jesse pushed himself off the piano, meaning to go digging through his backpack to find something, but Blaine straightened in his seat, flapping his arms slightly, saying quickly, "No!"
"It's just a tissue," Jesse reasoned. "No shame in needing to wipe your eyes."
"I don't need one," Blaine said determinedly, sniffing again. "And I don't know why you're being so nice to me when you should be calling me a sissy for getting all misty over something stupid."
"Well that's not fair," Jesse argued. "Why the hell would I call you that? I don't even know what you're crying about. For all I know, your old school was full of pricks who used you as a football, so who am I to call you names? I may not like you, but I'm the last person who would use someone's past against them. Especially when said past is making you of all people cry."
That was when Blaine lost it. He hunched in on himself, crying rather loudly, leaving Jesse standing there with no indication on what he was supposed to do with himself. It wasn't like Jesse was a stranger to people crying; people cried during rehearsals all the time. But that was different. People cried during rehearsals because they were tired and in pain and were trying to push through, not because some mistake they'd made or some painful memory was coming back to eat them alive.
"I'm sorry," Blaine looked up, tears streaming down his face, dripping off his chin and leaving dark spots around the collar of his shirt. "I never meant to piss you off so much. It was just so easy, getting in with all the new people and deciding I didn't even want to try to get to know everyone else, because it's so much easier to make friends with people who don't already know each other than to fit into an already established group.
"And I didn't mean to turn into the guy who argued with you over everything, I just… This was my chance, my one shot at being someone else, and I thought that maybe if I could somehow replace you…"
He fell silent, but it was easy enough to figure out the rest. Blaine wanted to be accepted, wanted people to like him, and he wanted it so much that he didn't care whose toes he stepped on to get there. And Jesse's toes had been the first to stick themselves out in an attempt to trip him up. Jesse effectively had everything Blaine wanted; he was the lead of Vocal Adrenaline, he was popular in school, and his name was practically famous. Of course Blaine wanted that. Everyone at Carmel did. Most just chose not to try to steal that from him.
"So why did you?" Jesse asked, wanting to know the whole story. "People like you just fine. They'd probably like you even more if you didn't try so hard to make a pain of yourself."
Blaine was looking at him again, now through eyes that had stopped welling up, but were now rather red. He was trembling slightly and blinking rapidly, one arm half-wrapped around himself.
"Okay, so you were at the bottom of the social heap," Jesse guessed, and since Blaine didn't say anything to the contrary, he kept going. "Nobody liked you at your old school. So you came here and put on a fake air of confidence, and the only way to convince yourself it wasn't an act was to challenge the top dog. Me."
"You make it sound so simple," Blaine shook his head.
"Actor see, actor do," Jesse shrugged. "Do you think I got where I am now by sitting on my ass and letting things come to me?"
"You're still making it sound simple."
"Then explain it to me," Jesse asked again, sitting down on the stage. "Come down here, away from that safety blanket - I mean piano - and tell me the whole story. Tell me what was so terrible about who you were that you felt the need to change yourself that much."
Blaine didn't move. He stared down at Jesse, clearly wondering if Jesse really wanted to talk or if he was just asking for the sake of having something to do. Jesse couldn't imagine what Blaine was about to tell him, what was so horrible that it was making him cry and shake at the mere thought of admitting it. Was Blaine about to reveal that he was some sort of incestuous rapist who had almost been locked away for assaulting his sister or his cousin? Or maybe he'd run over a two year old his first time out driving. Or maybe-
"I'm gay," Blaine told him, sliding off the piano bench and crumpling onto the stage, head bowed. "I like boys, okay?"
Jesse gaped at him. Then he realized that that was rude and he shouldn't stare, because being gay was no big deal at all, and staring at Blaine like it was wasn't going to help anything.
"If you had any idea what was going through my head before you said that," he shook his own, chuckling. "So you're gay. So what?"
Blaine looked up at him, confused.
"Didn't you just hear me? I-"
"Like boys," Jesse finished for him, shrugging. "What's wrong with that?"
Blaine was looking at Jesse like he'd announced that it was his lifelong ambition to start a farm in the middle of the desert and cut himself off from the rest of the world for the rest of his life.
"Aren't you…" he trailed away, clearly not wanting to ask something. But he did, taking a deep breath and trying again. "Aren't you disgusted?"
"And why would I be disgusted?" Jesse raised an eyebrow. "I-"
"They called me horrible names," Blaine said suddenly, cutting Jesse off. His hands were balled into fists now, his eyes shining again. "Terrible names, names that made me want to hide in my bedroom and never come out. And I tried to be open about it, I really did, because people are supposed to accept you when you're honest, but they didn't. And then the one time I finally found someone who understood, who knew what it felt like… they had to take that away, too." He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand impatiently.
"I had a friend who was gay, so I asked him to some stupid school dance. Just as friends. I mean, we didn't even dance. We just stood there, then sat there, just talking. But apparently we're not allowed to do that, because…" He bit his lip. "That had been the first time someone had actually hurt me. Physically."
Jesse was suddenly thrown back to the day the list had been posted outside the auditorium, to how he'd grabbed Blaine by his shirt and all but slammed him against the wall. What sort of memories had he unknowingly triggered by doing that?
"At first it wasn't so bad," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, as if trying to shrug the whole thing away. "Just a couple shoves, and I got punched in the arm, but that just seemed to make it even more fun, like it was a game to see how far they could push us before we tried to hit them, too. He ended up in the hospital. It was an accident, but they ended up putting him in a coma. I only had a bunch of bruises and a broken arm, but… the next day at school… they told everyone that it had been the two of us fighting, that I'd put him in the coma. And even though our parents knew, nobody at school cared. I was that gay kid who put the other gay kid in a coma. And then I just got beat up on principle or something."
"So you came here, hid your sexuality, and pretended to be confident so that nobody would do that to you again," Jesse finished for him when Blaine paused.
"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "That about sums it up."
"You don't have to hide," Jesse told him. "Not here. Carmel has a Gay-Straight Alliance club and everything. Our school's big on tolerance, and you've got the Vocal Adrenaline stamp of approval. Nobody would dare mess with you, not if they want me and the rest of the group on their case."
"You don't know that," Blaine pressed. "Just because a school has a club and I got into a show choir doesn't give me a free pass. And you're one to talk. You have no idea what any of this feels like, what it's like to be so scared that you'd sooner re-create your entire being than try being yourself again."
"You're right," Jesse agreed. "I don't know what that feels like. But it's only taken me these few short minutes to decide that I like this Blaine a hell of a lot better than the one I knew before those few minutes, and I'd be willing to guess that everyone else will like this Blaine a whole lot better too."
"They'll look at me funny, though. That's what always happens." Blaine was wringing his hands together. "I won't be able to look at anyone in the locker rooms because that means I'm checking them out, and I can't ask any of the guys for help with the choreography because that means I'm checking them out, and I can pretty much say goodbye to any hope of getting a good roommate if we ever have to travel for competitions, because nobody wants to sleep in the same room as the gay kid."
"Blaine," Jesse reached out to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, but he pulled back automatically.
"Don't," Blaine shook his head. "Because just because you might be okay with gay people and still think it's okay to put a hand on my shoulder doesn't mean everyone else is."
"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse asked.
"What?" Blaine frowned at him, obviously confused.
"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse repeated.
"No," Blaine answered shortly. "I couldn't do that at my old school. And it's not like I had a line of interested boys waiting for me or anything."
"What about a hug?" Jesse tried again. "Even just with a friend."
Blaine shook his head.
"When was the last time someone outside your family touched you? And I don't mean punching you or," he swallowed, "throwing you against a wall."
"Sixth grade," Blaine answered, so quickly that Jesse knew he had to have been clinging to whatever memory this was for a long time. "I met a boy named Alex, and he shook my hand when he said hello. But after that boys weren't allowed to touch each other, and once everyone found out I was gay, nobody wanted to touch me anyway."
"Did you know that we have three guys in Vocal Adrenaline who are gay?" Jesse then asked him, trying not to think about just how depressing it must be to not have positive physical contact with other people for almost four years.
"Really?"
"Really," Jesse echoed. "And should see all of us outside of rehearsal. We're a very physically affectionate group. You just isolated yourself too early to see that. Like Van? He hugs anything that moves, and some things that don't. After competitions, once we win, it's like a giant dog pile that doesn't end for, like, a week. Nobody here is scared of, I dunno, catching the gay or something. And they've all got their heads on the right way, so nobody thinks so highly of himself that he's convinced every gay guy wants him."
"How do you know?" Blaine asked, clearly not buying any of this.
"Because they all love me, don't they?" Jesse smiled at him.
Blaine's eyes widened.
"You're not… are you?" He seemingly couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud.
"I despise labels," Jesse chuckled softly, "so everyone here has dubbed me 'talent-sexual' instead." Still smiling at a very confused Blaine, he explained. "I'm attracted to people who I deem talented, regardless of what they've got between their legs."
Blaine said nothing, seemingly trying to digest this new piece of information. Jesse laughed again.
"This is the part where you're supposed to joke around with me and ask if I got a talent-boner from your voice," he instructed.
Blaine actually gasped, pulling his legs in close to his body and hugging them, as if afraid Jesse would somehow get the wrong idea if he left his crotch viewable. He was shaking again, and he swallowed thickly. Jesse almost wanted to laugh again, because it was silly to be afraid or nervous, not when Blaine wasn't even the one doing the pseudo-flirting, but he didn't.
"For the record," he scooted over to Blaine, putting one hand on his bent knee and the other arm going around his shoulders, feeling the boy stiffen, "I have an even bigger talent-boner now that I know you can play the piano."
Blaine shot out of his spot under Jesse's arm, stumbling over his feet in his rush to get away from him.
"Hey!" Jesse called out after him. "That's a compliment!"
Blaine stopped moving, turning around slowly and looking back at him.
"I know," he said quietly. "But…"
"Look, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I don't actually have a boner," Jesse laughed, spreading his legs a little, as if inviting Blaine to check for himself. Blaine pointedly did not look, focusing on Jesse's face instead. "But if you decide you're going to play the piano again, that might change."
Blaine's face, already slightly flushed, turned red.
"Why are you being so nice?" he asked. "I've been horrible to you."
"I'm not sure," Jesse admitted, but he grinned. "I guess it's a lot easier to understand and decide I like a Blaine Anderson who was hiding behind a dick façade than the Blaine Anderson who I thought really was just a dick for the sole purpose of being a dick."
"So are you purposefully calling me a dick to keep with the penis talk, or…?" Blaine actually laughed when he asked, making Jesse laugh with him.
"That time was an accident," he assured him. "Though I'd be more than happy to oblige if you'd like me to keep going."
"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, still pink in the face.
"Darn," Jesse winked. "I was having fun. Seeing you flustered is something new, and it's a rather nice change. Though of course I'm sure you don't feel the same." Blaine shook his head again.
"So," Jesse picked himself up off the stage, standing up and grinning over at the other again, "are you going to play the piano again?" Blaine shrugged a shoulder. "Because it's not like we have a ton of things to do in the absence of everyone else and a mysteriously vanishing Ms. Corcoran, who should have let us out by now."
"Do you think she forgot about us?" Blaine asked nervously, his eyes flicking to the back doors of the auditorium.
"Most definitely," Jesse nodded. "She's probably at home and figuring we've finished either screaming ourselves hoarse or are best friends now, so no big deal if she leaves us here overnight."
"That's mildly… disconcerting," Blaine decided.
"But we'll have fun, won't we?" Jesse walked over to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder, feeling pleased with himself when Blaine didn't stiffen or shrink away this time. "You'll play the piano for me and I'll re-introduce you to physical affection and then tomorrow when Ms. Corcoran comes to get us we can tell her all about the wild sex we had on the prop sofa."
Blaine let out a cross between a gasp and a laugh, seemingly not knowing what reaction was appropriate to that sort of comment.
"You can laugh," Jesse assured him. "Unless you do want to have wild sex on the prop sofa, in which case I must ask that you at least buy me dinner first." He gave Blaine a squeeze, then let him go, walking over to the piano and saying, "Or afterwards. I'm not picky."
"Are you always like this?" Blaine asked him, practically shuffling after him.
"Like what?" Jesse raised his eyebrows.
"All…" Blaine paused, searching for the right word, "silly and flirty and kind of ridiculous. Are you always like this? Around people you don't hate, I mean."
"Pretty much," Jesse nodded. "Of course, only the ones I have talent-crushes on get the flirting." Blaine's face, which had turned back to a light shade of pink, darkened again. "And to be honest I'm really only doing it now because you're really cute when you're blushing."
Blaine actually giggled in response to that, looking down at the floor before back up at Jesse, avoiding his eye.
"Okay, if that's the response I'll get every time I call you cute, I really should do that more often," Jesse decided.
"I still say you're ridiculous," Blaine told him, shaking his head. "I tell you a sob story and suddenly it's okay for you to talk about boners and call me cute. That logic doesn't really make sense, Jesse."
"And who said I have to make sense? I might just so happen to be attracted to boys with sob stories."
"A half hour ago I thought you weren't attracted to boys at all."
"Funny how a proper conversation can change things," Jesse mused, then pressed a finger on one of the piano keys, saying, "I must say that I like this kind of banter a lot more than I liked arguing with you for real."
"Me too," Blaine agreed, his face darkening in color again.
"Is blushing a lot a side effect of not being able to flirt with anyone for four years?" Jesse asked, because Blaine's face looked permanently red at this point. Jesse, for whom flirting came as natural as singing, couldn't imagine not being able to do so out of fear of getting teased or pushed around. Blaine had missed out on what could have been quite a bit of fun, had he been in the right environment.
"I guess," Blaine shrugged.
"And are you just going to stay far away from this piano or are you going to come play?" Jesse smirked, then added, "Or are you too afraid that I'll actually get a boner if you do that?"
"I'm starting to think that's the only thing you want me to think about," Blaine bit his lip, clearly feeling nervous with the return of the penis talk.
"Is it working?" Jesse asked, his voice low, chuckling when Blaine twitched. He got up from the piano bench and took a few steps away, gesturing for Blaine to sit down. Blaine didn't answer his question, just shuffled awkwardly the rest of the way to the piano bench, sitting down carefully once he reached it. Jesse wasted no time in sitting down next to him, even though Blaine had sat himself in the middle of the bench.
"Oh," was all Blaine said, clearly not expecting that.
"So?" Jesse prompted. Blaine scooted over to give Jesse more space, clearing his throat and looking over at him for a second before looking back at the keys. His face was bright red again, but regardless of what might be going on inside his head, he did start playing.
It was easy to figure out what kind of music Blaine liked by listening to what he played. It seemed that the only songs he'd bothered to commit to memory were from Disney movies, probably because the tunes were recognizable and more likely to receive a favorable response. Blaine played his way through so many songs that Jesse lost count, even as he sang along, Blaine chiming in here and there as well.
They were having fun, sitting together at the piano bench, their legs pressed together without either of them realizing, Blaine's cheeks still slightly flushed but now out of happiness and excitement more than embarrassment. Jesse couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun singing Disney songs.
Blaine had just started playing a new song when suddenly, the lights in the auditorium went out.
"What the-?" Blaine jumped, but Jesse, who had spent time in the auditorium after hours before, knew what had happened and was therefore not surprised.
"It's midnight," Jesse told him, not even needing to check a watch or a cell phone for confirmation. "Since Vocal Adrenaline have such long practice hours, the school's electricity has to be put on a timer. All the lights go out at midnight, because otherwise the electricity bill would bankrupt them, what with the cost of our spotlights alone."
"I didn't realize it was so late," Blaine admitted, voice shaking slightly.
"Neither did I," Jesse agreed, getting up from the piano bench, hoping his eyes would adjust to the darkness soon. He reached out for Blaine, ending up poking him in the back before managing to get a hold on his arm. "Come on. There's no point sitting onstage in the dark. There are flashlights in the dressing rooms. Let's go." His grip on Blaine's arm slackened as the other stood up, then moved down to grab his hand instead, pulling him off in the direction Jesse knew led to backstage.
"You know where you're going, right?" Blaine asked him, right as Jesse walked into the curtain.
"Yep," Jesse said, his mouth full of dusty fabric. "This is the right way."
"It doesn't sound like the right way," Blaine gave his hand a squeeze.
"No," Jesse coughed, "we're going the right way." He pulled Blaine behind him, feeling in front of him with his free hand. After laughing when Blaine walked into the curtain as well, Jesse's hand found a doorframe. Stepping through it and feeling around once more, he found one of the vanities. He knew the flashlights were stored in the first one on the left, so still holding tight to Blaine's hand, Jesse located the drawer and found a flashlight inside.
"Here," he flicked the switch, illuminating the room in a dim, yellow light. Grabbing another one, he handed it to Blaine. "Told you I knew where I was going." He smirked, shining his own flashlight in his face, wondering if it would look as creepy as he wanted it to.
"Please don't make that face again," Blaine told him, so clearly it had worked.
"And what face would you like me to make instead?" Jesse was still smirking, but he turned the flashlight so Blaine couldn't see his face, leaning in closer so that he was right next to the other boy, whispering, "I'll make any face you want."
He felt Blaine squirm away from him, another giggle leaving the boy's lips, so Jesse turned his flashlight on Blaine, their grins matching even though Blaine couldn't see his.
"So what do we do now?" Blaine asked, turning his own flashlight on and shining it at Jesse.
"Stand in the dark and shine flashlights at each other?" Jesse smirked, adding, "Or maybe we really could go down and find that prop sofa and see what sort of fun things two boys can do on the furniture."
Even in this dim light, Jesse could still see Blaine's face flushing.
"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, taking a step backwards.
"You're afraid of me," Jesse teased in a sing-song voice. "Blaine Anderson is afraid of Jesse St. James seducing him." He took a few steps closer, raising an eyebrow and saying, "I assure you I'm not nearly as scary as my reputation may lead you to believe.
"Um," Blaine took another step backwards, tripping backwards into one of the chairs. "It's not that."
"What?" Jesse moved his flashlight from Blaine's face to his lap, asking, "Did you get a boner?"
"No," Blaine reached up, shoving Jesse's flashlight away. "I just…" He mumbled something Jesse couldn't quite make out.
"Try again," Jesse instructed, shining his flashlight around the room, grabbing a chair, and pulling it up next to Blaine's. Blaine leaned in close to him, as if afraid of being overheard, even though it was only the two of them here.
"I'm don't like the dark," he confessed.
"Pity," Jesse teased, slinging an arm around Blaine's shoulders. "There are so many fun things to do in the dark. Guess I'll just have to show you a few of them to get you to forget how much you don't like it."
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Part 3
Fandom: Glee
Written: July 2011
Rating: PG-13
Words: 17,000 [total]
Summary: AU; Blaine transfers to Carmel after the bullying at his old school reaches a peak. He auditions for Vocal Adrenaline, gets in, and quickly becomes the bane of Jesse's existence. Can they put their disputes to rest, or are they destined to hate each other forever?
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"Tell me something," Jesse said immediately, not waiting for any sort of silence to come between them or for Blaine to say anything more. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" Blaine teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't play that game with me," Jesse shot back, not a hint of amusement in his face. He wasn't interested in play games; he wanted answers. He was giving Blaine the chance to explain himself, giving them a chance to get out of this auditorium in less than three hours, and Blaine was choosing to waste that time instead.
"It's fun," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, sitting himself down at the piano bench.
"Fun?" Jesse rolled his eyes. "Blaine, we have a problem. And I don't know about you, but I really don't want to spend all night in this auditorium. Especially not with you. I have things I need to do, homework that needs finishing, and more importantly than that, I have show choir stuff to do. Your dedication to the club might begin and end with rehearsal, but it's my first priority outside of this auditorium as well."
"Good thing you're here, then," Blaine shot back. "Should be easy to work on show choir stuff in the auditorium where rehearsals are held."
They stared at each other. Jesse's hands had balled into fists, his arms tense at his sides. He wanted to leave this auditorium more than he wanted anything else, and apparently Blaine was willing to stay here if it meant pissing him off.
"This is ridiculous," Jesse decided. "I'm trying to do the right thing, and you're too busy trying to disagree with me to give that a shot."
He stomped off the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms, leaving Blaine sitting at the piano bench by himself. Rather than staying onstage with nothing to do but stare at the boy he hated, Jesse grabbed his backpack from where he'd thrown it under one of the vanities and set about turning the table usually used for makeup into a desk. While the trigonometry problems that needed his attention before the next morning weren't exactly the most appealing distraction, he supposed it would have to do.
About a half hour passed, Jesse still bent over his math textbook, his eyes sore from the bright lights. But he kept working, determined to have accomplished something before Ms. Corcoran came back, even if it wasn't what she was hoping they'd accomplish. He was on his last problem when a slightly larger problem decided it needed his attention.
Blaine was playing the piano.
Jesse had no idea if Blaine had been playing for a few seconds or since he'd sat down to work on math homework. He tuned out the world when working on homework, giving himself completely over to concentration. That was the only way he got things done, and in the two seconds he'd let his mind wander between math problems, he'd heard the music. And of course, now that his concentration was broken, he couldn't block the music out.
His foot began to tap, his pencil poised above the paper, looking up into the mirror but not seeing his reflection at all. His head started moving in time with the music as well, recognizing the song, his lips soundlessly forming the words that should have accompanied the music.
No. He needed to block out the music, pretend it wasn't there and that he was the only person back here. Taking advantage of the fact that the song was ending, Jesse stared at his math problem, waiting for it to end, listening to the notes slow until they faded away altogether.
He got about five seconds of uninterrupted math time, and then Blaine was playing the piano again. He'd chosen the title number from Beauty and the Beast this time, and Jesse had always had a soft spot for that song. Of course he wouldn't be able to concentrate, and of course he started singing along.
Jesse never really paid attention while he sang along, which meant that he didn't realize just how loudly he was singing along. He hadn't closed the door to the dressing room, which meant his voice had carried out into the auditorium itself, and when the song ended, Blaine called back, "Having fun?"
And he would have called back and said that yes, actually, he kind of was, except that Blaine had said it in a way that was clearly teasing him, clearly feeling superior because he'd managed to get Jesse to sing without even trying. So he didn't.
"Actually I'm trying to do my math homework," he started, but was cut off by Blaine laughing. Glaring at the open door, Jesse launched himself from the room, storming back out onto the stage.
"And why is that so funny?" he demanded.
"No reason," Blaine shrugged.
"But seriously, do you mind?" Jesse crossed his arms. "I really do want to finish this."
"And I really do want to play the piano."
"Oh my God, it's like your goal in life is to be the bane of my existence," Jesse suddenly shouted. "You never do anything properly and the second I want one thing, you automatically want the opposite! It's like it's the only thing that gives you joy in life, seeing me upset! What the hell is your problem?"
"Am I really the one with the problem?" Blaine asked. "Or is it possible that you're just too sensitive?"
Jesse just stared, open-mouthed at him. His breath was coming sharply in his chest, his anger physically paining him. He had never met someone as infuriating as Blaine Anderson, and it seemed that Blaine took savage pleasure in doing just that: infuriating him.
So Jesse marched back to the dressing room, grabbed his math book and his backpack, and came right back out onto the stage, dropping both his book and his bag onto the floor, the sound reverberating around the room. Then he dug in the outside pocket of his backpack, found his iPod, and turned up the volume. His ears would probably be ringing for hours afterwards, but sticking those headphones in his ears and drowning out any attempts Blaine might make to distract him felt wonderful.
Except now it was impossible to concentrate on anything, with music blaring in his ears. Jesse pretended to finish his last problem, jotting down random numbers onto the paper, then looked back up at Blaine, smirking.
Blaine had turned back to the piano and was presumably playing something else. Jesse couldn't see all of him, the instrument in question blocking his view, but his head was bowed, looking at the keys, his entire upper body animated as he played. His brow was creased in concentration, lips slightly parted. He even had a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Blaine had also blocked out the rest of the world, though he had chosen to make his own music rather than use headphones.
And as much as Jesse hated to admit it, Blaine looked very - he couldn't believe he was even thinking this - attractive like this. His hair was still mussed from rehearsal, and the way his entire body seemed to be moving with whatever song he was playing showed how much he did love what he was doing. Jesse took out the headphones, listening as Blaine played, watching him attentively.
"I didn't know you could play the piano," he said quietly and conversationally once Blaine had finished playing. Blaine looked up, jumping at the sound, obviously under the impression that Jesse really had tuned him out.
"Well, there aren't very many opportunities for the minorities to shine during practice," he snapped.
"Blaine, come on," Jesse groaned, falling backwards and lying down on the stage. "I'm just making conversation. Why does everything have to be an argument?"
Silence met him. Then:
"It's no fun when you don't argue back."
Jesse sat up, eyes fixed on Blaine once more, shaking his head.
"So you really do all this just for fun?"
Blaine sighed, his entire body sagging with that sigh, looking down at the keys on the piano again.
"I guess," he told the keys.
"Tell me something, honestly," Jesse implored. "Why did you leave your old school?"
Blaine looked up, and Jesse was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he admitted. "So how about we pretend that I told you I became too much of an annoyance for our lead singer in the choir, he tried to kick my ass but I ended up beating the shit out of him, and then I got expelled."
"You're tiny," Jesse reminded him. "You can't be taller than five foot four. Unless this guy was a midget, no way I'd believe that." He stood up, walking over to the piano and leaning against it. "Try again, Anderson."
More silence met this request, but this time Blaine retained eye contact with him. They looked at each other, Jesse taking in Blaine's appearance all over again, this time not pretending to see some sort of malice glinting in his eyes but instead seeing them for what they really were. They were a nice shade of brown, lighter than he remembered, but then again, now he wasn't looking for the shadow of Satan, so that probably changed how he saw them. They were also still shining, and Blaine was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from spilling over.
"Is this the part where I offer you a tissue or something?" Jesse asked, feeling a bit awkward.
Blaine sniffed in answer to the question.
"I'll take that as a yes," Jesse pushed himself off the piano, meaning to go digging through his backpack to find something, but Blaine straightened in his seat, flapping his arms slightly, saying quickly, "No!"
"It's just a tissue," Jesse reasoned. "No shame in needing to wipe your eyes."
"I don't need one," Blaine said determinedly, sniffing again. "And I don't know why you're being so nice to me when you should be calling me a sissy for getting all misty over something stupid."
"Well that's not fair," Jesse argued. "Why the hell would I call you that? I don't even know what you're crying about. For all I know, your old school was full of pricks who used you as a football, so who am I to call you names? I may not like you, but I'm the last person who would use someone's past against them. Especially when said past is making you of all people cry."
That was when Blaine lost it. He hunched in on himself, crying rather loudly, leaving Jesse standing there with no indication on what he was supposed to do with himself. It wasn't like Jesse was a stranger to people crying; people cried during rehearsals all the time. But that was different. People cried during rehearsals because they were tired and in pain and were trying to push through, not because some mistake they'd made or some painful memory was coming back to eat them alive.
"I'm sorry," Blaine looked up, tears streaming down his face, dripping off his chin and leaving dark spots around the collar of his shirt. "I never meant to piss you off so much. It was just so easy, getting in with all the new people and deciding I didn't even want to try to get to know everyone else, because it's so much easier to make friends with people who don't already know each other than to fit into an already established group.
"And I didn't mean to turn into the guy who argued with you over everything, I just… This was my chance, my one shot at being someone else, and I thought that maybe if I could somehow replace you…"
He fell silent, but it was easy enough to figure out the rest. Blaine wanted to be accepted, wanted people to like him, and he wanted it so much that he didn't care whose toes he stepped on to get there. And Jesse's toes had been the first to stick themselves out in an attempt to trip him up. Jesse effectively had everything Blaine wanted; he was the lead of Vocal Adrenaline, he was popular in school, and his name was practically famous. Of course Blaine wanted that. Everyone at Carmel did. Most just chose not to try to steal that from him.
"So why did you?" Jesse asked, wanting to know the whole story. "People like you just fine. They'd probably like you even more if you didn't try so hard to make a pain of yourself."
Blaine was looking at him again, now through eyes that had stopped welling up, but were now rather red. He was trembling slightly and blinking rapidly, one arm half-wrapped around himself.
"Okay, so you were at the bottom of the social heap," Jesse guessed, and since Blaine didn't say anything to the contrary, he kept going. "Nobody liked you at your old school. So you came here and put on a fake air of confidence, and the only way to convince yourself it wasn't an act was to challenge the top dog. Me."
"You make it sound so simple," Blaine shook his head.
"Actor see, actor do," Jesse shrugged. "Do you think I got where I am now by sitting on my ass and letting things come to me?"
"You're still making it sound simple."
"Then explain it to me," Jesse asked again, sitting down on the stage. "Come down here, away from that safety blanket - I mean piano - and tell me the whole story. Tell me what was so terrible about who you were that you felt the need to change yourself that much."
Blaine didn't move. He stared down at Jesse, clearly wondering if Jesse really wanted to talk or if he was just asking for the sake of having something to do. Jesse couldn't imagine what Blaine was about to tell him, what was so horrible that it was making him cry and shake at the mere thought of admitting it. Was Blaine about to reveal that he was some sort of incestuous rapist who had almost been locked away for assaulting his sister or his cousin? Or maybe he'd run over a two year old his first time out driving. Or maybe-
"I'm gay," Blaine told him, sliding off the piano bench and crumpling onto the stage, head bowed. "I like boys, okay?"
Jesse gaped at him. Then he realized that that was rude and he shouldn't stare, because being gay was no big deal at all, and staring at Blaine like it was wasn't going to help anything.
"If you had any idea what was going through my head before you said that," he shook his own, chuckling. "So you're gay. So what?"
Blaine looked up at him, confused.
"Didn't you just hear me? I-"
"Like boys," Jesse finished for him, shrugging. "What's wrong with that?"
Blaine was looking at Jesse like he'd announced that it was his lifelong ambition to start a farm in the middle of the desert and cut himself off from the rest of the world for the rest of his life.
"Aren't you…" he trailed away, clearly not wanting to ask something. But he did, taking a deep breath and trying again. "Aren't you disgusted?"
"And why would I be disgusted?" Jesse raised an eyebrow. "I-"
"They called me horrible names," Blaine said suddenly, cutting Jesse off. His hands were balled into fists now, his eyes shining again. "Terrible names, names that made me want to hide in my bedroom and never come out. And I tried to be open about it, I really did, because people are supposed to accept you when you're honest, but they didn't. And then the one time I finally found someone who understood, who knew what it felt like… they had to take that away, too." He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand impatiently.
"I had a friend who was gay, so I asked him to some stupid school dance. Just as friends. I mean, we didn't even dance. We just stood there, then sat there, just talking. But apparently we're not allowed to do that, because…" He bit his lip. "That had been the first time someone had actually hurt me. Physically."
Jesse was suddenly thrown back to the day the list had been posted outside the auditorium, to how he'd grabbed Blaine by his shirt and all but slammed him against the wall. What sort of memories had he unknowingly triggered by doing that?
"At first it wasn't so bad," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, as if trying to shrug the whole thing away. "Just a couple shoves, and I got punched in the arm, but that just seemed to make it even more fun, like it was a game to see how far they could push us before we tried to hit them, too. He ended up in the hospital. It was an accident, but they ended up putting him in a coma. I only had a bunch of bruises and a broken arm, but… the next day at school… they told everyone that it had been the two of us fighting, that I'd put him in the coma. And even though our parents knew, nobody at school cared. I was that gay kid who put the other gay kid in a coma. And then I just got beat up on principle or something."
"So you came here, hid your sexuality, and pretended to be confident so that nobody would do that to you again," Jesse finished for him when Blaine paused.
"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "That about sums it up."
"You don't have to hide," Jesse told him. "Not here. Carmel has a Gay-Straight Alliance club and everything. Our school's big on tolerance, and you've got the Vocal Adrenaline stamp of approval. Nobody would dare mess with you, not if they want me and the rest of the group on their case."
"You don't know that," Blaine pressed. "Just because a school has a club and I got into a show choir doesn't give me a free pass. And you're one to talk. You have no idea what any of this feels like, what it's like to be so scared that you'd sooner re-create your entire being than try being yourself again."
"You're right," Jesse agreed. "I don't know what that feels like. But it's only taken me these few short minutes to decide that I like this Blaine a hell of a lot better than the one I knew before those few minutes, and I'd be willing to guess that everyone else will like this Blaine a whole lot better too."
"They'll look at me funny, though. That's what always happens." Blaine was wringing his hands together. "I won't be able to look at anyone in the locker rooms because that means I'm checking them out, and I can't ask any of the guys for help with the choreography because that means I'm checking them out, and I can pretty much say goodbye to any hope of getting a good roommate if we ever have to travel for competitions, because nobody wants to sleep in the same room as the gay kid."
"Blaine," Jesse reached out to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, but he pulled back automatically.
"Don't," Blaine shook his head. "Because just because you might be okay with gay people and still think it's okay to put a hand on my shoulder doesn't mean everyone else is."
"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse asked.
"What?" Blaine frowned at him, obviously confused.
"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse repeated.
"No," Blaine answered shortly. "I couldn't do that at my old school. And it's not like I had a line of interested boys waiting for me or anything."
"What about a hug?" Jesse tried again. "Even just with a friend."
Blaine shook his head.
"When was the last time someone outside your family touched you? And I don't mean punching you or," he swallowed, "throwing you against a wall."
"Sixth grade," Blaine answered, so quickly that Jesse knew he had to have been clinging to whatever memory this was for a long time. "I met a boy named Alex, and he shook my hand when he said hello. But after that boys weren't allowed to touch each other, and once everyone found out I was gay, nobody wanted to touch me anyway."
"Did you know that we have three guys in Vocal Adrenaline who are gay?" Jesse then asked him, trying not to think about just how depressing it must be to not have positive physical contact with other people for almost four years.
"Really?"
"Really," Jesse echoed. "And should see all of us outside of rehearsal. We're a very physically affectionate group. You just isolated yourself too early to see that. Like Van? He hugs anything that moves, and some things that don't. After competitions, once we win, it's like a giant dog pile that doesn't end for, like, a week. Nobody here is scared of, I dunno, catching the gay or something. And they've all got their heads on the right way, so nobody thinks so highly of himself that he's convinced every gay guy wants him."
"How do you know?" Blaine asked, clearly not buying any of this.
"Because they all love me, don't they?" Jesse smiled at him.
Blaine's eyes widened.
"You're not… are you?" He seemingly couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud.
"I despise labels," Jesse chuckled softly, "so everyone here has dubbed me 'talent-sexual' instead." Still smiling at a very confused Blaine, he explained. "I'm attracted to people who I deem talented, regardless of what they've got between their legs."
Blaine said nothing, seemingly trying to digest this new piece of information. Jesse laughed again.
"This is the part where you're supposed to joke around with me and ask if I got a talent-boner from your voice," he instructed.
Blaine actually gasped, pulling his legs in close to his body and hugging them, as if afraid Jesse would somehow get the wrong idea if he left his crotch viewable. He was shaking again, and he swallowed thickly. Jesse almost wanted to laugh again, because it was silly to be afraid or nervous, not when Blaine wasn't even the one doing the pseudo-flirting, but he didn't.
"For the record," he scooted over to Blaine, putting one hand on his bent knee and the other arm going around his shoulders, feeling the boy stiffen, "I have an even bigger talent-boner now that I know you can play the piano."
Blaine shot out of his spot under Jesse's arm, stumbling over his feet in his rush to get away from him.
"Hey!" Jesse called out after him. "That's a compliment!"
Blaine stopped moving, turning around slowly and looking back at him.
"I know," he said quietly. "But…"
"Look, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I don't actually have a boner," Jesse laughed, spreading his legs a little, as if inviting Blaine to check for himself. Blaine pointedly did not look, focusing on Jesse's face instead. "But if you decide you're going to play the piano again, that might change."
Blaine's face, already slightly flushed, turned red.
"Why are you being so nice?" he asked. "I've been horrible to you."
"I'm not sure," Jesse admitted, but he grinned. "I guess it's a lot easier to understand and decide I like a Blaine Anderson who was hiding behind a dick façade than the Blaine Anderson who I thought really was just a dick for the sole purpose of being a dick."
"So are you purposefully calling me a dick to keep with the penis talk, or…?" Blaine actually laughed when he asked, making Jesse laugh with him.
"That time was an accident," he assured him. "Though I'd be more than happy to oblige if you'd like me to keep going."
"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, still pink in the face.
"Darn," Jesse winked. "I was having fun. Seeing you flustered is something new, and it's a rather nice change. Though of course I'm sure you don't feel the same." Blaine shook his head again.
"So," Jesse picked himself up off the stage, standing up and grinning over at the other again, "are you going to play the piano again?" Blaine shrugged a shoulder. "Because it's not like we have a ton of things to do in the absence of everyone else and a mysteriously vanishing Ms. Corcoran, who should have let us out by now."
"Do you think she forgot about us?" Blaine asked nervously, his eyes flicking to the back doors of the auditorium.
"Most definitely," Jesse nodded. "She's probably at home and figuring we've finished either screaming ourselves hoarse or are best friends now, so no big deal if she leaves us here overnight."
"That's mildly… disconcerting," Blaine decided.
"But we'll have fun, won't we?" Jesse walked over to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder, feeling pleased with himself when Blaine didn't stiffen or shrink away this time. "You'll play the piano for me and I'll re-introduce you to physical affection and then tomorrow when Ms. Corcoran comes to get us we can tell her all about the wild sex we had on the prop sofa."
Blaine let out a cross between a gasp and a laugh, seemingly not knowing what reaction was appropriate to that sort of comment.
"You can laugh," Jesse assured him. "Unless you do want to have wild sex on the prop sofa, in which case I must ask that you at least buy me dinner first." He gave Blaine a squeeze, then let him go, walking over to the piano and saying, "Or afterwards. I'm not picky."
"Are you always like this?" Blaine asked him, practically shuffling after him.
"Like what?" Jesse raised his eyebrows.
"All…" Blaine paused, searching for the right word, "silly and flirty and kind of ridiculous. Are you always like this? Around people you don't hate, I mean."
"Pretty much," Jesse nodded. "Of course, only the ones I have talent-crushes on get the flirting." Blaine's face, which had turned back to a light shade of pink, darkened again. "And to be honest I'm really only doing it now because you're really cute when you're blushing."
Blaine actually giggled in response to that, looking down at the floor before back up at Jesse, avoiding his eye.
"Okay, if that's the response I'll get every time I call you cute, I really should do that more often," Jesse decided.
"I still say you're ridiculous," Blaine told him, shaking his head. "I tell you a sob story and suddenly it's okay for you to talk about boners and call me cute. That logic doesn't really make sense, Jesse."
"And who said I have to make sense? I might just so happen to be attracted to boys with sob stories."
"A half hour ago I thought you weren't attracted to boys at all."
"Funny how a proper conversation can change things," Jesse mused, then pressed a finger on one of the piano keys, saying, "I must say that I like this kind of banter a lot more than I liked arguing with you for real."
"Me too," Blaine agreed, his face darkening in color again.
"Is blushing a lot a side effect of not being able to flirt with anyone for four years?" Jesse asked, because Blaine's face looked permanently red at this point. Jesse, for whom flirting came as natural as singing, couldn't imagine not being able to do so out of fear of getting teased or pushed around. Blaine had missed out on what could have been quite a bit of fun, had he been in the right environment.
"I guess," Blaine shrugged.
"And are you just going to stay far away from this piano or are you going to come play?" Jesse smirked, then added, "Or are you too afraid that I'll actually get a boner if you do that?"
"I'm starting to think that's the only thing you want me to think about," Blaine bit his lip, clearly feeling nervous with the return of the penis talk.
"Is it working?" Jesse asked, his voice low, chuckling when Blaine twitched. He got up from the piano bench and took a few steps away, gesturing for Blaine to sit down. Blaine didn't answer his question, just shuffled awkwardly the rest of the way to the piano bench, sitting down carefully once he reached it. Jesse wasted no time in sitting down next to him, even though Blaine had sat himself in the middle of the bench.
"Oh," was all Blaine said, clearly not expecting that.
"So?" Jesse prompted. Blaine scooted over to give Jesse more space, clearing his throat and looking over at him for a second before looking back at the keys. His face was bright red again, but regardless of what might be going on inside his head, he did start playing.
It was easy to figure out what kind of music Blaine liked by listening to what he played. It seemed that the only songs he'd bothered to commit to memory were from Disney movies, probably because the tunes were recognizable and more likely to receive a favorable response. Blaine played his way through so many songs that Jesse lost count, even as he sang along, Blaine chiming in here and there as well.
They were having fun, sitting together at the piano bench, their legs pressed together without either of them realizing, Blaine's cheeks still slightly flushed but now out of happiness and excitement more than embarrassment. Jesse couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun singing Disney songs.
Blaine had just started playing a new song when suddenly, the lights in the auditorium went out.
"What the-?" Blaine jumped, but Jesse, who had spent time in the auditorium after hours before, knew what had happened and was therefore not surprised.
"It's midnight," Jesse told him, not even needing to check a watch or a cell phone for confirmation. "Since Vocal Adrenaline have such long practice hours, the school's electricity has to be put on a timer. All the lights go out at midnight, because otherwise the electricity bill would bankrupt them, what with the cost of our spotlights alone."
"I didn't realize it was so late," Blaine admitted, voice shaking slightly.
"Neither did I," Jesse agreed, getting up from the piano bench, hoping his eyes would adjust to the darkness soon. He reached out for Blaine, ending up poking him in the back before managing to get a hold on his arm. "Come on. There's no point sitting onstage in the dark. There are flashlights in the dressing rooms. Let's go." His grip on Blaine's arm slackened as the other stood up, then moved down to grab his hand instead, pulling him off in the direction Jesse knew led to backstage.
"You know where you're going, right?" Blaine asked him, right as Jesse walked into the curtain.
"Yep," Jesse said, his mouth full of dusty fabric. "This is the right way."
"It doesn't sound like the right way," Blaine gave his hand a squeeze.
"No," Jesse coughed, "we're going the right way." He pulled Blaine behind him, feeling in front of him with his free hand. After laughing when Blaine walked into the curtain as well, Jesse's hand found a doorframe. Stepping through it and feeling around once more, he found one of the vanities. He knew the flashlights were stored in the first one on the left, so still holding tight to Blaine's hand, Jesse located the drawer and found a flashlight inside.
"Here," he flicked the switch, illuminating the room in a dim, yellow light. Grabbing another one, he handed it to Blaine. "Told you I knew where I was going." He smirked, shining his own flashlight in his face, wondering if it would look as creepy as he wanted it to.
"Please don't make that face again," Blaine told him, so clearly it had worked.
"And what face would you like me to make instead?" Jesse was still smirking, but he turned the flashlight so Blaine couldn't see his face, leaning in closer so that he was right next to the other boy, whispering, "I'll make any face you want."
He felt Blaine squirm away from him, another giggle leaving the boy's lips, so Jesse turned his flashlight on Blaine, their grins matching even though Blaine couldn't see his.
"So what do we do now?" Blaine asked, turning his own flashlight on and shining it at Jesse.
"Stand in the dark and shine flashlights at each other?" Jesse smirked, adding, "Or maybe we really could go down and find that prop sofa and see what sort of fun things two boys can do on the furniture."
Even in this dim light, Jesse could still see Blaine's face flushing.
"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, taking a step backwards.
"You're afraid of me," Jesse teased in a sing-song voice. "Blaine Anderson is afraid of Jesse St. James seducing him." He took a few steps closer, raising an eyebrow and saying, "I assure you I'm not nearly as scary as my reputation may lead you to believe.
"Um," Blaine took another step backwards, tripping backwards into one of the chairs. "It's not that."
"What?" Jesse moved his flashlight from Blaine's face to his lap, asking, "Did you get a boner?"
"No," Blaine reached up, shoving Jesse's flashlight away. "I just…" He mumbled something Jesse couldn't quite make out.
"Try again," Jesse instructed, shining his flashlight around the room, grabbing a chair, and pulling it up next to Blaine's. Blaine leaned in close to him, as if afraid of being overheard, even though it was only the two of them here.
"I'm don't like the dark," he confessed.
"Pity," Jesse teased, slinging an arm around Blaine's shoulders. "There are so many fun things to do in the dark. Guess I'll just have to show you a few of them to get you to forget how much you don't like it."
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Part 3