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"Bye guys," Blaine calls out into the room behind him as he walks out the glass doors of the Lima 23 Hour Fitness. His skin is still damp and flushed from the shower, muscles newly achy from the vigorous workout. He probably overdid it with the punching bag, he thinks, but hey, it’s fine, right? This is good. This is a healthy solution to his frustrations.
He’s externalizing.
More like projecting, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Tina says in his head. Blaine shakes his head and Phantom Tina dissolves back into his unconscious mind.
“Better out than in, like Sam always says,” he mumbles while reaching into the side pocket of his gym bag for his car keys. Of course, Sam usually says that before belching, loudly, but Blaine thinks the point still stands. “This is silly,” he says aloud, again.
“Aw, you still do that thing where you think out loud,” a familiar male voice says. This time Blaine’s sure it’s not in his head.
Blaine halts in his tracks, shoulders hitching slightly from the surprise, and comes face to face with none other than Sebastian Smythe. Or, well, chest to face. His chest to Sebastian’s face, since Sebastian’s comfortably sitting on one of the metal benches on the courtyard of the strip mall. He looks like he’s been there a while. He’s got an arm around the back of the bench, drawing attention to the empty space next to him. One of his long legs is bent over the other one, exposing a pair of whimsical, multicolored socks that make Blaine pause. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Sebastian out of uniform.
He takes in his own casual attire of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, and fights the urge to cross his arms.
“What are you doing here?” Blaine says, taking a step back. He tried to go for casual but he suspects he only managed coolly hysterical.
“I was waiting for you,” Sebastian says.
“How did you— You know what. Nevermind. I don’t want to know. What do you want?”
“My, where did your manners go? Is that any way to treat an old friend? I’m great, in case you wanted to know.”
Blaine does cross his arms this time and raises an eyebrow, staring pointedly at Sebastian for what feels like a long time.
‘Ok,” Sebastian finally says, and raises his hands in surrender. He brings the arm that was around the bench across his chest and lays his hand on his chest. “I just wanted to come by and personally offer my most sincerest condolences.”
Blaine scrunches his face in confusion but Sebastian is already reaching inside the front pocket of his jacket for his cellphone. He swipes his thumb across the screen and turns it to face Blaine. And there, tiny but clear, is the photo of Elliott and Kurt already loaded.
Blaine wars between irritation, embarrassment and jealousy all over again. Sebastian’s a bloodhound, though, and Blaine will be damned if he’ll let Sebastian sniff any of that out. Blaine almost reaches for the phone before catching himself and closes his fists at his side instead.
“How did you get that?”
Sebastian smiles in that infuriating way he has— equal parts condescension and self-satisfaction.
“Blaine, there are no such things as secrets on the Internet. At least tell me he broke the news to you before posting this. Leaving you to find out through Facebook is cold. Not even I would do that. And we both know that’s saying something. Good news is it’s been less than 90 days since your engagement so I’m sure you could get a full refund at the jeweler’s for that ring. I propose you use the money for a Vegas trip.”
“Kurt is not cheating on me, Sebastian,” Blaine says and Sebastian smiles at him again. “He’s not,” Blaine insists. “Kurt and Elliott are just friends.”
“Right. Just like you and me,” Sebastian says and stands up, his eyes never leaving Blaine, which forces Blaine crane his neck up to maintain eye contact. He liked it better when Sebastian was sitting down.
“And in the spirit of friendship I’m here to offer my services.”
Blaine raises an eyebrow in question, but Sebastian simply slides an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pulls him close, steering him in the direction opposite the parking lot, and in the vicinity of the juice bar next to the gym. At this point Blaine knows better than to resist. It’ll be faster if he goes along. Might as well get a free smoothie for his troubles.
Once inside, he lets Sebastian order for both of them while he goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, to stop himself from doing something stupid.
Like what?
Back in the room he scans the crowd for Sebastian and spots him at a table for two by the front window. They slurp at their smoothies in silence for a while, Blaine lifting his gaze every so often to find Sebastian staring at him
“Ok, I’ll bite,” Blaine says a few minutes later. “What services are you offering exactly?”
“An eye for an eye.” Sebastian winces as soon as the words are out. “Bad choice of words. I guess in your particular case it’d be more like a cheek for a cheek,” he says and winks. “A scene partner, if you will, for your rebuttal.”
“You mean payback?”
“You call it payback, I call reciprocity. I thought you were the relationship expert here, Blaine. Aren’t healthy relationships all about balance and equality.”
Blaine’s eyes harden for a second, his jaw sets, balking at the implication. For a moment he’d forgotten who sat with.
“What do you know about reciprocity?” he bites out, harsher than intended.
Sebastian smirks and leans into Blaine’s personal space, close enough for Blaine to feel the cool exhale of his breath.
“Well, I haven’t had any complaints so far.”
He retreats into his seat again and Blaine lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and goes back to his smoothie, avoiding Sebastian’s face.
“Good to know I can still make you blush.”
Blaine clears his throat.
"What’s in it for you?"
"You mean besides the warm fuzzy feeling of lending a helping hand?"
Blaine laughs.
"Right. Well, I thank you for the kind offer but I’m going to have to pass. Kurt and I trust each other. There’s no need for games.”
“Too late. I already Instagrammed a picture of you working out. I’ve gotta say green is definitely your color.”
Blaine scrambles for his phone, tapping his way into the Instagram app as fast as he can. When the feed finally loads he sees, there, plastered for all the Internet to see a picture of his own ass, clad in his green workout shorts.
“nothing like a good view to get at guy motivated at the gym, @blaineanderson #cheeks”
Blaine’s ears heat in traitorous shame and anger.
“Sebastian,” he hisses, “take it down.” Blaine abruptly turns the display off and pushes his phone across the tabletop. As if that would do something.
“No take backs on the Internet, killer.”
"You know, in another world, you and Tina would make a fearsome duo."
"Did you know Hunter had the hots for her?"
"Seriously?"
Sebastian hums in confirmation and Blaine thinks about the what if. Terrible, he thinks. Just terrible.
Blaine’s phone stays there, between them on the tabletop. They remain silent long enough for Sebastian to start looking contrite and an unbidden wave of affection for the boy who always tries way too hard rushes through Blaine. I guess we have that in common, Blaine thinks.
“You’re going to get me in trouble,” he says, no heat to his words, and Sebastian rewards him with a genuine smile.
“What can I say, you bring it out in me. And do me a favor, will you? Don’t pretend my attraction to you doesn’t flatter you. We both know that’s bullshit,” Sebastian says, no trace of tease in his voice.
Blaine sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, takes a deep breath. Language falters him.
“Sebastian, I’m—-”
“In love with Kurt. I know. I still have eyes, though.”
Blaine pushes aside the niggling guilt, makes the squirmy i-shouldn’t-be-doing-this feeling hide away, for just a moment.
“I’ll take it as a compliment, then,” he says.
“Good.”
They finish the rest of their drinks in silence before getting up and walking toward the parking and their respective cars.
Sebastian unlocks his car and lingers in the doorway, suddenly unsure.
“Hey, listen,” he says. “ we’re going to be living in the same city come fall. If you and Hummel ever get in a fight because you ruined one of his shirts or threw away his bedazzling kit, or something, and you need someone’s couch to crash on, look me up. Us Warblers ought to stick together.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“I’ll see you around, Blaine,” Sebastian says before getting into his car and driving away. Blaine follows the car with his eyes until it’s lost from his sight.
He climbs into his own Prius. His phone trills from somewhere inside his gym bag beside him. He reaches for it, and unlocks it.
“Sebastian Smythe has tagged you in photo.”
Blaine taps on the notification to load up the image, half expecting and dreading another surreptitiously taken shot of his butt, but the actual photo— chaste, innocent, almost meaningless, unless you were there— is almost worse.
In soft, desaturated colors is a shot of their respective plastic smoothie cups, their names neatly printed in a Sharpie, side by side.
“Nice catching up with you @blaineanderson, see you in NYC”