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Blaine was so late to dance class today that Cassandra made him clean every dirty thights and cotton wristbands the entire class had used that day. She wouldn’t have been so hard on him (especially since he was sure she actually liked him, hiding a small smile when he perfected a move behind her stoic face) if he hadn’t been showing up tardy the entire week.
It was because of his work at the diner, keeping him up late until closing almost every night since he was apparently the only one responsible left there (Sanata and Dani found a new job at some record store, Kurt focused more on his new paid position at Vogue, and Rachel had another Broadway opportunity lined up). It was also Sam’s fault for always slamming the snooze button on their shared alarm in the morning (one bedroom apartment. New York wasn’t cheap. But they both were). And also because he was tired, because he was a nineteen year old living in the City That Never Sleeps. Because he had sheet musics to go through and theatrical plays and old musicals to study for for all his advanced classes (Madame Tibideux insisted, and who was he to say no lest she chokes him with her turban?)
So he was grumpy and his hair was only half gelled and he had a basket full of sweaty garments in hand to do instead of having lunch.
Goddamn you, dance goddess Cassandra.
And I hate you, too, Sam.
Especially you, Customer-From-Last-Night-Who-Insisted-Frying-Her-Eggs-Seven-Times-To-Get-The-Right-Yolk-Taste.
Not to mention you, New York. Just because. But not really. Only sometimes.
Blaine was dragging himself down the upper floor hallway and towards the exclusive laundry room NYADA had setup for some unknown reason. Cassandra again, probably. Easier to punish students with.
But he was so late today he had forgotten his water bottle. He only managed to pack his sandwich because he had stuffed it in his bag last night lest Sam ate it again without permission. (Share your calories, bro!) And he was so dehydrated, he could pass out.
So he all but thanked his lucky stars when he saw a vending machine pressed against the far wall; he didn’t usually drink any softdrinks but he couldn’t stand to be picky right now. And hopefully it was stacked up with gummy worms as well.
It was one of those special Coke machines that was everywhere right now. He never really liked those, mostly because he was irrationally upset they never make ones with his name on it. Sam always brags about finding his name on a lot of the bottles at the supermarket, mostly using it as a pick-up line to share his coke with someone. Why did his mom have to be so clever with his name?
Blaine was just thankful he wasn’t a Pepsi guy.
But when he had slipped in his bill and claimed the bottle in the bottom, it was one of those mix-matched ones that would only open if you press and twist the lid with someone else’s bottle.
You’re added to my list, Coca-Cola company.
He considered buying another one just because he was that thirsty. But he only had that one five dollar bill in hand and the universe just really hated him today. So he all but dumped the bottle on top of the pile of laundry, thinking he’d just smash the bottle in frustration later when someone shouted behind him.
“Oh, thank God. Tell me you bought one of those damn bottles because I’m too fucking thirsty to deal with this bullshit,” someone ranted off and Blaine turned around to face such a gorgeous face he was actually surprised that the universe had the decency to apologize to him.
Nice.
Blaine recognized him as one of Cassandra’s student dance teachers that she would bring in when she would be too drunk or too lazy to work. But this one had only stopped by for a brief second to hand some binder back to her and not staying long enough to be their upperclassman for the day. And Blaine remembered that day so well because he pouted so hard in disappointment that not even a box of cronuts cheered him up. (Though the second box got him to stop frowning).
“Um, yeah,” Blaine replied a second too later, readjusting the basket in his arms as he looked down at his bottle.
“Cassandra’s class?” The guy turned from pissed off to amused in a whiplash, gesturing towards the laundry with a smirk. “Been there.”
Blaine could only offer a nod, he’s sure if he said something he might blurt out how the guy’s black shirt highlighted his tones chest and arms.
Damn you too, Non-Existent-Sex-Life.
“You’ll survive. Aren’t you like, her favourite student?” He knows who Blaine is?
“I’d like to think so,” Blaine tried to jest, but it only came off as cocky and smug, making him cringe a little. But the guy actually liked it, enough to make him laugh.
“That just means she doesn’t want you to slack off. The amount of yoga mats I had to scrub back in freshman year,” Handsome Upperclassman shuddered. “You’ll survive.”
Blaine finally allowed himself to smile. He just hoped he didn’t look like The Joker.
“Anyway, help me out here, would you?” He lifted his red unopened bottle between them.
Blaine nodded again and grabbed his own bottle and held it out. Now, it wasn’t a touch of their fingertips or true love’s kiss, but the bottles made a ‘pop’ sound when they locked and opened them together. And that was way more cooler.
Plus, the Cokes fizzled.
Sparks everywhere, I tell you.
The guy wasted no time in gulping the bottle down, Blaine unable to tear his eyes from the way the strong Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank. Blaine forced himself to drink his own, even though he was already thirsty.
But now not so much for a drink.
“Thanks…”
“Blaine.” A bit too quickly, he cleared his throat. “Blaine Anderson.”
“Thanks, Blaine Anderson. Sebastian Smythe,” Sebastian winked and then he was walking away, still chugging down the bottle as he went, long, graceful legs and all.
Blaine had to take another sip to quench that thirst.
Sebastian.
That was going on his good list.
He glanced down at his own bottle with a wide grin, practically skipping towards the laundry room.
Open Happiness, indeed.
-
The next day in class, Blaine was finally on time. Could 9 probably helped with gliding him smoothly to his destinations without being late.
He was stretching when a bottle of Coke was placed on the floor where he had sprawled himself into a ‘v’ position with his legs. Looking up, he saw Sebastian giving him a pleased smile.
“Hurry up, Anderson. Unlike you, I like to start my classes on the dot,” Sebastian said playfully before making his way towards the front of the class, calling everyone’s attention. And when Blaine turned the bottle around, he couldn’t help but bite his lip to suppress another grin.
'Share a Coke with
BLAINE'