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Sebastian takes a seat in the back of the bus, openly glaring at anyone who tries to sit next to him, grumbling as he opens up his blazer and leans back. It smells like worn leather, cologne and anxiety, everyone disappointed from their loss between a deaf school for boys (a fucking deaf. School.) and New Directions. If he’s ever wished a plague upon any group of people in his life it’s on those tone deaf, big footed group of miscreants that somehow seem to slide into first every time he turns around.
The bus is full, except for one head of curls that’s missing and Sebastian rolls his eyes because he knows exactly where he is. Late. As usual when they sing off against McKinley, Blaine taking his sweet time flirting with someone who resembles a pride float when he walks out of his house. He doesn’t understand how someone like Blaine doesn’t have standards.
He knows how bitter he sounds and it crawls under his skin, festers but they fucking lost, and Sebastian doesn’t take kindly to losing in any retrospect of his life.
Blaine runs onto the bus, panting softly and smiling shyly at the bus driver who glares at him and closes the door. “Sorry.” He says before walking down the rows, back and back and back…to the only open seat left.
By Sebastian.
Blaine looks even less pleased than Sebastian feels.
He sits next to him quietly, opening his own blazer as well and leaning back into the seat as the bus pulls out of the parking lot.
“Didn’t have time to properly fraternize with the enemy?” Sebastian asks, his voice low and dipping angrily into all the wrong syllables.
“Don’t be a sore loser.” Blaine states quietly. And Sebastian knows that he’s not just talking about the competition.
Sebastian bites his tongue on all the questions that want to snake out of his mouth like curling smoke, the undeniable attraction Blaine has to Kurt something he just doesn’t understand and he wants to pick it apart and dissect it until he does.
“I don’t get it.” Is all he says.
And Blaine is angry now, his cheeks red. “You wouldn’t.”
That promptly ends the discussion but Sebastian thinks Blaine is wrong. He’s wrong because he would understand, if the shorter would just give him that chance.
It’s quiet for the rest for most of the bus ride, and Sebastian steels himself to looking out the window. To not focus on how close Blaine’s body is, how he can feel the heat of his skin through the layers of clothes, can smell the combination of skin and sweat and cologne and Blaine and how it does nothing to his insides. Does nothing to twist them up and somehow drop low to his cock and shoot up to jostle his heart in his ribcage.
Something pulls him out of his daze as he feels a weight on his shoulder. A head of curls coming into contact with the tip of his nose as he turns. He scrunches it at the bridge, his chest caving in on itself as he lets out a slow breath.
He swallows as a large bump jerks Blaine out of his sleep, his body starting as he raises his head from Sebastian’s shoulder, looking at him like a deer in the headlights. Their heads are close, noses brushing, lips practically grazing, lungs breathing the same air.
And the shorter holds that stance, stares deeply, shadows dancing across his hazel eyes like he’s contemplating something. Weighing options.
Sebastian breaks the tension before the silence breaks him in half. “Thanks for drooling on my shoulder sleeping beauty.”
And Blaine? Blaine cracks a smile he can’t stop before shaking his head. Blush kisses his cheeks in a bright pink, even in the darkness of the bus. “Yeah. Sorry.”
There’s something in his voice that settles warmly in Sebastian’s stomach. Because no. No he’s not sorry. He’s not sorry at all.