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Sam can tell by looking at Blaine that this is a Good Day. Blaine’s sitting in the choir room, following Brit with his eyes as she twirls in front of everyone and sings. Sam notices, too, how Blaine is tapping out the song’s rhythm with his foot. Yeah, Sam thinks. Definitely a good day.
In Sam’s opinion, there have been way too many Bad Days for his new friend. Days where Blaine will sit in that same chair with a far-off look in his eye, or days where he flat out refuses to sing. Days where Blaine catches Sam’s gaze, near tears, then excuses himself for a while. Some days he doesn’t come back.
Whatever happened between Blaine and Kurt in New York a few weeks ago, Sam has no idea. Well, some idea—but he finds his friend to be pretty quiet on the matter, and quiet on a lot of things, to be honest. Sam already knows that Blaine was feeling lonely before New York; he knows he finally broke things off with Kurt. But a lot of the details—the whys and whatfors—Sam’s not clear on. They don’t matter anyway. Only the pain he sees his friend dealing with does.
But sectionals are coming, and today they have to face the fact that Blaine may not come through for them. After Brit takes her seat, Finn, now choir director since Mr. Shue went to D.C., says, “Cool, Brit. Well, guys, we’ve got sectionals this weekend, and for once I think we’re ready. Except—” Finn pauses, looking uncomfortable. “Except we kind of, um, have to make a decision about—”
“I’ll be fine,” Blaine interrupts. Sam notices Blaine’s ramrod straight posture, and the way his hands are clasped together in his lap. And his smile. Even though Sam hasn’t been close to Blaine at all until recently—since the election—he can tell Blaine is tense but trying not to seem that way. “Look,” Blaine adds. “Would anyone be opposed to another practice before sectionals, even though it would be Black Friday? Just so you can feel more sure about me? I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’ve been a mess, and it’s Thanksgiving this week . . .” And the old seniors will be back in town, Sam supplies to himself. He knows a big reunion party is planned for Wednesday night, which means that Kurt will be there. And Sam can’t imagine that being a Good Day for Blaine at all. As the group decides that yes, one more practice will make them feel better, Sam makes some decisions of his own.
—————
"Why did you even want to be Wolverine, anyway?" Sam asks. It’s Wednesday morning, and they're at the Lima Bean, where it's always Blaine's treat. Sam isn't totally comfortable with that arrangement, but Blaine is stubborn.
"What do you mean?" asks Blaine. "No one wants to be Cyclops! He's—"
"Uptight?" Sam interrupts, a small smile ghosting on his lips. "Come on, Blaine." Sam grabs a chunk off the crumb cake off the plate they're sharing, and crams it into his mouth. Blaine gives him a look. Sam decides to just ask, since Blaine's in a good mood right now. "So—the party tonight. You game?" Sam grimaces as soon as he sees Blaine's face fall; he doesn’t want to be the cause of Blaine feeling sorry for himself.
Blaine huffs out a rueful laugh and remarks, "Kurt will be there, you know. I don't think I can—I don’t think I’m ready—"
Sam catches Blaine's gaze. "Whatever you're thinking there, dude—just stop. Okay? Because you're wrong. We'll be there—Brit, Tina, Artie, me. Just, you know, hang out with us. It doesn't have to be about him. Not everything does."
"He'll want to talk. He'll want to try to fix things. He'll see I'm a wreck and he'll want to do something about it," Blaine responds, picking up crumbs by pressing them into the plate, then eating them off his fingertips. "I'd rather focus on sectionals right now, to be perfectly honest."
The two boys are quiet for a long moment. Sam knows that if he just waits long enough, Blaine will speak up, so he settles back in his chair. “Look,” Blaine finally says, quietly. “This whole things sucks. If I don’t go at all, it will look like I’m avoiding him. Like I’m running away. If I go, I won’t know how to act. I’ll either get totally drunk and do something stupid, or I’ll say something I’ll regret. It’s all just . . . Disaster.” Blaine rests his elbow on the table, propping up his chin with his hand.
“Blaine. Bro. You’re doing that thing again—you know, where you drag everybody down? Come on. Would you just let me take care of you?” Sam asks. “Please?” Blaine looks up at him, and Sam can tell he’s finally thinking of going. When the “Okay” comes, Sam can barely hear it. But at least it’s there; it’s a start.
"And just so you know," Sam continues, grinning wildly to lighten the mood, "You really are like Cyclops.”
“No. No. You’re wrong, my friend,” says Blaine, grinning now too.
"I have two words for you then," says Sam. "Kitten Boy.” They both get up from their seats to head out. “Kitten Boy, Blaine.”
Blaine chuckles and shakes his head as they walk out together.
—————
The five of them are waiting outside of Rachel’s house in the dark. Now that they're actually here, Blaine is still debating. Or more like wavering. Sam can hear music coming from the basement. He can hear voices and laughter and Rachel singing. He thinks he hears Mercedes and starts, realizing he’s been focusing so much on just getting Blaine here that he’s forgotten who else would even be here, aside from Kurt. He finds himself to be both happy and sad. Is that what bittersweet is? And it’s all so odd, because he remembers thinking last summer that he was losing a family, that all the key people were leaving a gaping hole behind. But right now, as he stands next to the other seniors—his seniors—he knows the affection he feels for them is different somehow. More.
Sam gives Blaine a firm slap on the back. “Ok, bro, we’re not going home before we even go in. Let’s have some fun.” Blaine has a look on his face right now that’s more like resignation, and then he steps out from their group and turns to look at them all head on.
“Guys, I’m going in, okay? But please. You just can’t let me get drunk. Not here. Not with Kurt in the same room. I—” babbles Blaine.
“Blaine. We get it,” says Sam. “Don’t worry. If anyone could use a drink, it’s you. We’ll make sure nothing gets out of control.”
“But I—” Blaine trails off. “I do, like, really stupid things when I’m drunk. Really stupid.” Blaine looks nervous, but Sam knows his friend needs this to turn out well. With sectionals a few days away, no one wants to see Blaine lose his shit in the middle of his solo. He’s a far cry from the state he was in a few weeks ago. He’s not, at least, wearing yoga pants to class anymore. And, well, he’s shaving again.
“Trust us?” Tina says, and Blaine looks at her, his expression somewhere between surprise and gratitude. Nodding, he takes in all of their faces and breathes back, “Deal.”
—————
It’s weird seeing the old seniors, as Sam likes to think of them—even Mercedes, who hasn’t even left Lima yet. They’re a part of his past right now. They’re not part of his actual life, so even though he has a lot of affection for them, he’s currently sitting on the sofa with Brit and Tina. Sort of draped over their laps and grinning like an idiot is . . . Blaine.
“Do it again,” he says, happily drunk. Tina, Brit and Sam each take turns lifting their legs so that Blaine’s body rides a wave the runs the length of the sofa. He’s silly and giggly, and Sam couldn’t be happier. Even better, Blaine is distracted. Next to them Sugar is sitting on Artie’s lap, and watching them make out is kind of distracting to everyone.
Sam can hear Rachel and Kurt talking about their lives in New York in another corner of the room, while Mercedes and Puck listen and join in. The newbies and relative-newbies—Unique, Joe, Marley (and even Jake, who looks a bit awkward in the same room with Puck)—are all hovering near the old seniors as if just listening to their stories will make their lives more exciting, too. Or maybe they just want a taste of hope, that life after McKinley will bring it in spades. Finn is also there, looking really awkward—and sort of glum. When Quinn shows up, the stories start all over again. Santana isn’t coming, so Brit has been calm tonight; Sam is glad for that, too. But it’s all a bit strange to him, watching these people, yet feeling so protective about the people he’s with on the sofa.
Blaine giggles. “Is this comfortable for you guys? This is really comfortable. I think I could lie here forever,” he says. “Lay here forever?” Sam looks at him and tells him, “You’re a dork.” Blaine laughs. “Yes, but you like me anyway.”
—————
It’s close to midnight and everyone has loosened up, gotten used to each other again. Sam and Brit are still together on the sofa, but Sam has one eye on Blaine, who is now huddled in a corner with Finn. They’re talking animatedly, but Sam knows Blaine is really drunk at this point, and that Finn isn’t drinking at all. Sam imagines Blaine is talking about Kurt, but then he catches bits of conversation. “You know I’ll be fine, Finn. Fine. Finn,” Blaine chuckles. “That’s so hard to say!” Finn rubs his temples with his hand. Sam guesses Finn’s had enough, but is happy to be occupied, away from Rachel.
When Sam sees Kurt wandering in Blaine’s direction, he tenses a bit. He doesn’t want to get in their way; he’s not taking sides or anything. But he knows Blaine would rather talk to Kurt when he’s ready, and when he’s sober. He has a feeling that Blaine, and probably Kurt, too, want to fix this thing. Sam watches as Blaine finally takes notice of his ex. It’s a moment that stretches out, somehow, and Sam feels like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t. It feels private. He watches as Blaine blinks at Kurt, his expression sad, and a little nervous. Kurt says so softly that Sam can barely register it, “Hi, Blaine. Do you maybe have a minute?” Then Blaine shifts his gaze and looks directly at Sam. Blaine looks panicked, but then the expression just washes away as he looks back at Kurt drunkenly and says, “Sure.”
“Team Blaine: Activate,” says Sam, as he gets up from his place on the sofa, strides over to Blaine, pulls him up, then hoists him up like a sack of potatoes, holding onto Blaine’s legs while the rest of Blaine’s body drapes over Sam’s backside. He spots Brit getting up too; she’s heading for the bedroom to probably grab Blaine’s coat. Tina follows close behind, and Artie starts wheeling himself toward the front door. “Wait a minute,” says Blaine. “I’m not done talking to Kurt!”
In minutes they’re gathered in the foyer, saying their hasty goodbyes. The look on the old seniors’ faces is, well, curious, as suddenly the party is cut down drastically in size. Kurt looks confused and a little sad, but Finn has the hint of a smile on his face.
“Sectionals practice tomorrow,” says Sam in apology. Brit looks at him seriously and adds, “It’s because it’s after midnight, isn’t it? Because Blaine Warbler’s car is going to turn into a pumpkin soon, and we don’t want to be in that car when it changes back.” Sam raises his eyebrow at her, and she does the same in return.
Blaine twists a bit in Sam’s arms. In a muffled voice behind him, Sam hears Blaine say, with enthusiasm that is a little too much for the hour, “You know something? You have a nice ass.”
“Ok, now it’s really time to go,” says Sam, rolling his eyes. “He’s starting to hit on people. Um—namely me.”
And with that, the group of them exits the house, taking Blaine out into the cool November night. As Sam breathes in the fresh air, he thinks—he knows—his friend will be okay. He’ll make sure of it.