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Tuesday, evening
Blaine mentions offhandedly one day that he likes bad boys. Okay, he said he enjoys bad boys. Or he says he enjoys the dynamic the quintessential gritty, spontaneity one character could employ in certain movies. And Sam takes note of things like this. He has to.
They've only gotten started on their series of something-somethings and it's really wonderful. Like, wonderful. Blaine is only Sam's first boyfriend but Sam's only Blaine's second. Apparently this makes him some sort of Jedi. It's mind-blowing stuff.
The problem is, Sam doesn't know what Blaine likes. His sexual knowledge comes from Miss Holliday and she hasn't exactly covered the backdoor agenda. Thankfully, Blaine's a willing teacher, in more ways than one.
But he doesn't know what Blaine likes. Because Blaine's done that thing where he's completely innocent and Sam came in under two minutes. He's done that thing in his Cheerios uniform and it heed the same results. Dalton uniform. Freddie Mercury. Tiny little Wham shorts.
Blaine's a performer. So is Sam. He should use this to his advantage.
Sam freezes, looks over at the girl's blank expression.
"I mean come on, you're knee deep in theater costumes, Christian Grey." she points out, giggling "What's up with you and Blaine?"
Sam's mind flashes back to the book excerpt Brittany made him read one day, before shaking his head. Maybe next time.
”Everything's going good, Tina." he says before treading further "Thank you for asking."
”You're telling me nothing?" Tina raises an eyebrow over at him.
How Sam wishes Tina could be the timid, extremely quiet girl back in sophomore year. A VapoRub comment stings the back of his head but he's beaten by her. Once again.
"Oh, and the Grease costumes are on the rack labeled 'Grease'" she calls out before offering a wave as she retreats.
Wednesday, morning
Blaine's terrible at being subtle, this is a fact. He's heard of something called the Gap Attack, remembers something from Whitney Houston week and right now, he hasn't exactly left Sam's side.
And it's only been about eleven hours since he was scouting the costume department and about six minutes since he got to school.
Blaine's grinning up at him and talking a mile a minute and it's too damn obvious that Tina's dropped a hint or two. Okay, he hasn't put on the jacket yet, mostly because there's a nail polish stain on the one he managed to swipe in Tina-related rage.
Today he's clad in a light-coloured henley and jeans, like he always does, yet Blaine seems to be checking out every single part of him. He takes advantage of this opportunity and slips his hand into Blaine's back pocket when the boy's stuffing sheet music in his locker.
”Sam,” Blaine chuckles his name in a giddy lilt, eyes crescents up at him. Sam's involuntary action when it comes to this is that he squeezes, and it causes Blaine to gasp slightly, look over at him with curious eyes and grin. It's kind of super hot.
"Can you blame me for appreciating that fine piece of work God put on you?" Sam asks, thankful he's had his Ryan Gosling accent sitting in his back pocket as he leans back and watches his hand where it's at on the pocket of Blaine's chinos "And colour me blasphemous, that's some pretty sinful handiwork from where I'm watching."
Blaine's eyes widen and he grins even wider.
He's really enjoying this. And Jesus, his eyes are dark and intent. Like he's about to fuck him right against those lockers.
Sam takes a daring step closer and lets his eyes drag up and down Blaine's form.
Meet you by the student council boardroom at--" Sam leans in closer and licks upwards from Blaine's neck to below his ear "Lunch."
Blaine absolutely shivers
"Now I gotta head to class, sugar." Sam pulls a smirk "You think you'll be able to hold out for me until then?"
Blaine nods with heavy eyes. "Of course."
Sam nods once before popping in a piece of spearmint gum in his mouth. "Catch you later." he says, blowing a kiss over at Blaine's direction.
He's got this bad boy thing down.
(Still) Wednesday, morning
No, seriously, he has this thing down
He got in trouble in Mr. Valmont's class for snapping his gum too loudly and not being able to spit it out. He stares the man in the eye before swallowing it. He doesn't let the worry of having gum in his stomach for seven years show.
Mr. Valmont sighs and shakes his head "I guess that's one way of getting rid of it."
The best part? Blaine's right there, two rows back, and it's only second period.
Wednesday, noon
”Sam." Blaine grits towards the ceiling, with Sam mouthing hotly over where he'd undone the first few buttons of his polo shirt "You just--fuck, you emulate it so well. It's so hot."
Sam's got Blaine on the tabletop, as he's snug between the boy's willingly spread legs. "Is that right, dollface?"
"Dollface," Blaine echoes, eyebrows furrowing in either confusion or arousal or a strange mix of both, gasping as he throws his head back.
"Tell me who you belong to, honey bee." Sam whispers into Blaine's ear before he's sucking onto the side of his throat.
"Are you saying that my butt is big?" Blaine moans roughly at the ceiling.
"Um, would you like it if I told you your ass was big?" Sam tentatively asks in his regular voice, as his hips still against where Blaine was grinding against him desperately "Would that be a compliment?"
Blaine looks over at him, cocked head and swollen lips before he shrugs. "I've never thought about it before." he husks out "Just keep...?"
"Doing what we were--"
"Yeah, that'd be great."
Got this thing down.
Thursday, morning
Sam wears the leather jacket after coating it with a good amount of shoe polish and perfume to get rid of the mustiness. Tops it off with the aviators from their past mashup.
He looks in the mirror and finds himself the very definition of a panty-dropper. (Yes, he knows what Blaine wears under his Cheerios uniform, thank you very much.)
He feels like a total badass. He walks up to Blaine's locker, leans against it noisily.
"Package for Blaine Anderson." he says, lowering the sunglasses, winking.
Blaine jumps just at the slightest before turning to Sam. His face turns up into a slow smirk and lowered eyes and Sam knows they're in business.
"So, where do I sign?" Blaine chuckles to himself and tugs at the belt loops of Sam's pants.
"You guys are revolting." they hear Kitty's distinct voice as she passes by, wrinkling her nose "Although I have been perpetually turned on the past three seconds of Sam's makeover and I need to depart before I climb that like a birch."
"Back at'cha, kitten." Sam calls over at the blonde before she mimes claws at him and quirks an eyebrow
"Sam."
"Right, I'm committed." Sam grins down at him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on his cheek "Can't help my bad self, sweetheart."
Blaine blinks, furrowing his eyebrows before closing his locker and making his way to the opposite direction. "I guess I'll see you in class?" he says over to Sam.
"You know you will, babydoll." Sam smirks mischievously over at him.
Blaine couldn't help but beam, shaking his head.
Thursday, afternoon
Turns out, being a bad boy is pretty rewarding. Hell, this attracts twice as my attention than if Sam's walked around in nothing but spandex shorts and flip-flops.
He's like a math equation. If he had three Cheerios on one arm, and four on the other, what exactly was his appeal quotient?
He's got the entire botanist club hot on his heels. They're dropping way too many euphemisms that involve vines, which is kind of hilarious.
(And a better question, if he did have seven Cheerios on his arms and three plant enthusiasts right behind him, how jealous would Blaine Anderson exactly be?)
Friday, afternoon
"Sam!" a voice echoes the empty halls as the said boy's talking a mile a minute to this mindlessly nodding ponytailed brunette about his (well, not admittedly to anyone, clip-on) earring.
"Just don't do it with a glue gun or an ice pick like I did, babe." Sam says quickly, thumbing over the tiny rhinestone dangling from the shell of his ear "Consult a professional."
The girl nods eagerly, grinning too wide to even render flirtatious, before skipping off with a "Thank you so much."
The wrath of Blaine Anderson is a force not to be reckoned with, Mostly because 80% of the time, he's as adorable as a puppy in a playground and a baby playing with his feet at the same time and he's really, really, bottled up.
"Who the hell was that?" Blaine asks, tilting his head upwards to stare at Sam through the dark lenses of his glasses.
"I was giving her tips." Sam shrugs, and apparently, he's slept with his Gangster Squad DVD on repeat because his mobster accent is close to natural "Nothing to worry about, toots."
Toots?" Blaine's mouth gapes "Toots?!"
"Toots." Sam smirks, tapping the front of Blaine's nose.
"I don't understand,anything anymore, Sam!" Blaine's hands are clutching the sides of his own face "When was the last time you called me by my name? Really?"
"Listen, custard pie--"
"Custard pie?! Where are you even getting these nicknames? A Hostess truck?!" Blaine's voice is close to manic, expression matching as he starts pacing “Do you even remember my name?!”
Sam quiets down. He gives Blaine a minute to calm down, pinch the bridge of his nose and look down on the floor and look back up at Sam. Carefully, his hand strokes over Sam’s jawline, with the blond leaning at the touch. Blaine tugs off Sam’s sunglasses, stuff them in his jacket pocket. He frowns at his ear. He plucks off the rhinestone clip-on and puts that in his pocket as well. He also takes the rolled up strip of paper made to look like a cigarette tucked behind his ear and throws it in a waste bin. His hand reaches up Sam’s gelled hair and ruffles it, letting it fall into the (well, adorably dorky) part of his hair.
Lastly, he looks up at Sam with a raised eyebrow and tugs the jacket off his shoulder, letting it pool on his feet.
“Can I have my boyfriend back?” Blaine asks, thumb running over the knob of Sam’s collarbone exposed by his V-neck.
Sam shrugs, with a smile before dipping his head down and pressing a chaste kiss on the boy’s lips. Blaine leans into it, cupping Sam’s cheek and sighing at the feeling of his lips.
“I love that you did this. It was really hot, as if you didn’t know that, but” Blaine purses his lips “I prefer to keep our…personas to ourselves.”
“To ourselves.” Sam echoes, nodding.
“That’s right.” Blaine smiles over at him “I prefer if we had cycles.”
“This sounds exciting.” Sam grins down at him as he wraps an arm around Blaine, before pausing in thought “Hey, you’ve read like, Fifty Shades, right?”