Work Text:
“I'm going to make food – you want food?” Sam called from the kitchen. Of Blaine's apartment.
“You realize that's MY kitchen, right?” Blaine called back. “But sure. What are you making?”
Blaine could almost hear the cogs turning as Sam went silent in thought.
“Manwich” he called back. “Pass me your phone – I need to google recipes”. Before Blaine even noticed Sam behind him, his phone had been swiped from his hands.
“HEY!”
“Shh. Manwich” Sam responded while typing.
“Blaine?”
“Yes, Sam?”
“What the hell is Mansauce? Is that something guys put on tacos or what?”
Blaine went silent.
“Ummm....no? It's....why?”
“Well, Google decided that's what I meant when I started typing manwich....oh god. MAN sauce. Like MAN SAUCE?!”
“NO!” Blaine's face had changed to beet red.
“Well, I know you've been single a while, and that you still haven't had the nerve to call 'Hot Travel Agent Kurt' and, well, you have needs...”
“Sam STOP. I beg you. It's...well...it's just...you know 'Hamilton'?”
Sam sighs. “Seriously? The amount of times I've walked in on you rapping 'Guns and Ships' is ridiculous.”
“And you know Lin Manuel Miranda? And Jonathan Groff? AKA Groff Sauce?”
“Yes...”
Blaine retrieved his phone, tapped in a few words and passed it back to Sam. “Watch this”.
“The internet told me to give you this for your birthday...”
“Oh. But why Mansauce?”
Blaine sighed. “Lin Manuel Miranda. Groff Sauce. It's their...y'know...ship name?”
Sam stayed silent as he processed the new information before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh Blaine. We really need to get you laid.”