#michaeldownunder

[conscientiouscourage]

Text || Jackson

Blaine has been staring at his phone for longer than he cares to admit, fingers lightly brushing a soft pedal. It takes him a while, but he finally pecks out a text: Can we meet?

Blaine (a few seconds later): Wait, no. That sounded really dire. Um. What I meant was, I want to see you.

[conscientiouscourage]

It's A Date || Jackson

Blaine was nervous. Ridiculously nervous. Seriously, it was like he was back at Hogwarts, some anxious teenager testing the perilous waters of dating for the first time. 

In his defense, that time hadn't worked out so well. Or the time after that. Or the one after that. And well, there hadn't been a one after that. Not until now. He wasn't really sure what to do with himself. Obsessing over his clothes and hair was an obvious must, to satisfy his neurotic fashion tendencies. In the end, though, he went simple: white button up with a light beige v-neck sweater and dark khaki trousers, all well-fitted. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too underwhelming. 

He'd picked out a good wine, he thought. He didn't really know where Michael's tastes were on that sort of thing, so he went with a middle of the road Chardonnay, not too sweet and not too dry. With the bottle tucked under his arm and what he hoped wasn't too nervous of a smile on his face, he checked the address one last time, then raised his hand to knock on the door.