It shouldn't be this captivating, just watching someone else sing, but there's something about Jesse that manages to make Blaine forget that there's anyone else in the room.
In fact, Blaine even forgets that Jesse's in the room.
That's what it is, he thinks; it's like Jesse becomes completely consumed by a performance, to the point that it's impossible not to be completely drawn in with him. Everything falls away when Jesse performs, as if theatre really does go pitch black and the only source of light is that spotlight - even when not a single bulb is dimmed. Blaine's never seen anything like it, not once, and he has absolutely no idea why, at first.
At first, Blaine thinks it's just his confidence; Jesse is so sure of himself that he takes total command, so of course anyone watching zones in on him. How can you ignore a demand like that? But, no, Blaine has seen confidence. He's seen overconfidence, even (and not just in Jesse). Blaine has seen musicals on Broadway, watched divas like Rachel Berry take the stage, seen others who radiated determination and confidence, but no... none of them have it. None of them are Jesse, not even the ones with Tony Awards already on their shelves somewhere. No one else has ever captured Blaine like that; no one else has the power to make the entire planet go dark just because they open their mouths on a stage.
Nope, that's just him.
It's not until Jesse catches him one day during rehearsal and says, "Impressed?" with that stupid smirk on his fact that Blaine figures it out.
Maybe - just maybe - Blaine might love him a little.
When Blaine woke up to that being chirped just below his ear by his six year old daughter, who was suddenly curled up beside him in bed... to say he was startled was a bit of an understatement. Blaine probably would have even jumped, but his four year old son had apparently decided to settle himself upon Blaine's abdomen, his little feet on either side of his body. So, needless to say, the young (-ish) father was completely trapped.
He'd say that he didn't mind, but he wasn't even remotely a morning person, so the only response he could manage was a tired groan; his hands (at least they were still free) sprung up to wipe his eyes, just in time for him to need to stifle a yawn.
"What time is it?"
Melody sighed an impatient sort of sigh. "It's almost noon, daddy."
Okay, so Blaine had admittedly been taking advantage of his newfound opportunity to sleep in; Hair had just finished its run, and while Broadway generally didn't make millionaires, being a Tony-nominated principle in a very successful show could be filed under mildly lucrative, at least. Blaine was finally making it somewhere and he would soon have an EP in the works, so those days of playing at small little bars at night and running around the counter at a coffee shop the following morning were finally behind him (at least, he hoped). And, for that reason, Blaine might have been sleeping in the last couple days, while he worked out the details of his upcoming schedule. Yet, he did have two, incredibly adorable children to consider... and they clearly weren't in favor of the whole thing.
Well, that's what Blaine thought, until Oliver said, "PJ sent us."
(To which Blaine responded with a gritted, "oh, did he," and Melody a, "shh!")
"It's almost daytime, dad," Oliver said, and Blaine assumed that he meant it would soon be the afternoon, as opposed to the morning.
Blaine chuckled, "Did PJ tell you to say that, too?"
"He said it would 'up the cute factor,'" Melody confessed, and Blaine swore he heard laughter from the kitchen; he actually snorted, himself.
Oliver chimed in, "Also, PJ says that coffee is for mornings."
"If you don't get up before the afternoon, you don't get any," Melody added.
Without thinking, Blaine fired "bull-" before he stopped himself and lamely switched gears to mumble, "poop."
That time, there was definitely laughter from the kitchen.
With a resigned sigh - he was awake now, anyway - Blaine reached over and lifted Oliver, so the boy settled on his lap when he sat up, and then his hip when he stood. Melody jumped up, too, taking her dad's hand as they walked out of the room. Immediately, Blaine sent his husband a defiant glare, which Jesse only laughed under.
"We got him!" Oliver exclaimed, before he squirmed a little in Blaine's arms, and Blaine took his cue to place his son on his feet. Right away, he watched the toddler as he trotted over to the couch, presumably returning to his cartoons.
Melody kept Blaine's hand in hers, however, so he reached down and pulled her onto his hip instead (she was still kind of small), and toted her over to the kitchen. Jesse ruffled her hair when they arrived, just before handing Blaine an already-full mug.
"What was that for?" Blaine asked, obviously not referring to the coffee he held in his free hand.
prompted by rose; the prompt was 'liza' and 'jello'
"This is disgusting."
Liza's distaste was perfectly evident in both her tone and her facial expression, her nose scrunching up as she poked the glob with her plastic spoon. That was the thing about hospitals; not only was their food personally offending, but all of their utensils were plastic-ware, as if they expected every patient to make their situation worse if given anything with a sharp edge. As it happened, Liza probably would have considered using her spoon as a rather inelegant weapon if given the chance, though she'd save it for the man sitting at the edge of her bed - who actually had the gall to laugh at her.
"Next time you're admitted, I'll make sure they're stocked with take-out from La Grenouille."
Ugh, and there it was: Jason's infamous, smirky wit. Liza had become quite the expert at pretending to hate it, even now that they were dating and she didn't have to.
On reflex, she rolled her eyes. "That's really all I ask," she retorted, but then her lips betrayed her, curving into a crooked smile.
"And all I ask," Jace cut in, scooting closer and wrapping his hand around hers, "is that you try not to break any more bones."
Liza smirked. "Aw, were you worried about me?"
"No," he replied dryly, "this bill is just going to be ridiculous, and since this little hospital visit is cutting into our dinner date, that jello is on me."
She snorted (probably unattractively) and retorted, "You are such an ass."
Prompted by Megs; the prompt was Blesseberry, birthday
"So, your birthday is in a week," Rachel abruptly chimed from the kitchen as she leaned over the countertop with an impish grin. "What do you want?"
Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but -
"And don't say 'nothing,' because the more you protest, the stronger my urge to get you something particularly ostentatious."
Blaine pouted from the couch, just as Jesse's voice sprang from his bedroom, his well-groomed head popping out from the doorframe:
"Tell me about it," he said, raising his eyebrows and looking directly at the brunette behind the counter. "Blaine, heed her warning. This is the woman who showed up to my apartment with a five-foot long, framed photograph of the St. James theatre."
Rachel giggled. "Oh, hush. You got your revenge."
"Ah, yes," he said, stepping out from the room and making his way over to the kitchen. On his way to the coffee mugs, he added, "the life-size Care Bear."
Blaine made a face. "That's where that came from?"
"He thinks he's so clever," Rachel said, but she snickered. "I can't believe you remembered that."
Jesse rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid," he said. "Of course I did." He made a face. "Do." A wave of his hand. "You know what I mean."
"Wait, remember what?"
Together, Rachel and Jesse said, "Nothing."
"Back to the subject at hand!" Rachel chirped, moseying on over to the couch and plopping down beside Blaine. "Are you going to point me in the correct direction, or will you be requiring a skyscraper-sized coffee mug?"
"Actually, that sounds -"
"- don't encourage her."
Blaine looked over at Jesse, who was wearing a smirk as he strode over as well, with two cups of coffee in tow. "If you think we're not getting you something, you're an idiot," he said, handing Blaine one of the mugs before sitting down on the other side of him, "so you might as well give us a hint."
Settling back into the couch, his fingers wrapping snugly around the warm cup, Blaine said, "I want an otter."
"An otter," Jesse dead-panned.
"Yes. That is what I want for my birthday." A smirk tugged at his lips, before he took a sip of his coffee. Over the rim of the mug he said, "Best of luck."
Rachel sounded a little devilish when she said, "Oh, now you're asking for it."
"You told me to ask for something."
"Yes, but now you're really asking. You'll regret this, Blaine Anderson."
Blaine smiled. "If an otter is involved, I seriously doubt that."
Day one of the thirty day writing challenge; the prompt was 'beginning.'
Word Count: 408 | Pairing: Blaine/Jesse
- - -
"Your brother has no idea what he's talking about, you know."
The sudden declaration startles Blaine, who is sitting on the wooden deck of his back patio, his little hands balled into fists in his lap. The voice, he recognizes, belongs to a boy named Jesse, who sometimes comes over when his mom travels to visit with Blaine's mom. He's older than Blaine, already going into the third grade, but he's always been pretty nice to the second grader anyway - at least, except for that one time that he intentionally hid all of the bow-ties a six year old Blaine got for Christmas (all of which, he still hasn't found a year later), but Jesse swears was with good intention, anyhow.
Despite all that, Blaine doesn't look up when Jesse steps outside; he just sort of scowls, lifting the back of his fists to rub at his eyes - that way maybe he'll just look tired - instead of letting Jesse know that he'd been crying.
"You're just saying that," he says.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"Blaine," Jesse says, plopping down next to him. "Stop acting like a second grader."
Blaine makes a face. "I am a second grader."
"Well, I'm a third grader," Jesse retorts proudly, "which means that I'm a whole year older and wiser." He lets this settle for a moment and then adds, "So, trust me."
Blaine folds his arms over his chest, but Jesse suddenly jumps right back to his feet.
"You know what?" he says. "I'm going to tell him."
Blaine looks up, narrowing his eyes. "Tell him what?"
"That he's a bully and mean and that he has no right to talk to you like that."
Blaine is wide-eyed and on his feet in a second, snatching the other boy's arm and holding him still. Blaine is still looking up at Jesse with the most earnest expression he can manage when he says, "Please don't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because he's my brother," Blaine tries, "and I don't want you to."
A moment passes, but Jesse eventually softens, his determined expression falling into something more gentle. "Okay," he says, and Blaine drops his arm, "but I still think he's a jerk."
"He is not," Blaine argues, pouting.
Jesse raises his eyebrows.
"He's only mean when I mess up," Blaine amends, but the he frowns. "I just won't sing with him anymore, that's all."
