Pairing: Blaine Anderson/Dave Karofsky
Warnings: Five Things fic
Summary: Five times Dave kept Blaine his dirty little secret, and the one time he didn't.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. (Read full disclaimer here.)
Notes: Title by All American Rejects.
Blaine smiled in amusement as Dave's face twisted in confusion, eyes focused on the boards above the counter as he tried to remember Blaine's coffee order.
"It's not a big deal, you know," Blaine teased with a lilt in his voice, foreseeing already that Dave would not remember. "I'm perfectly capable of ordering my own coffee," he insisted more seriously. He knew that Dave was really trying here, desperate to make the fullblown attempt at being a perfect suitor. But the truth was, unmistakably, that Dave was entirely new to this. He and Blaine had only gone out two or three times, and Blaine could hardly even call them official.
"Honestly," he insisted again, stepping up to the counter as Dave's eyes quickly fell behind him, focusing on something near the doors of the mall.
Blaine turned to find a swarm of McKinley letterman jackets wading over in their direction, and he held his breath as waited for the inevitable.
"Yeah," Dave answered belatedly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned on his heels. "Yeah, you can get your own coffee," he agreed in a hushed tone, something soft and apologetic in his eyes, as he turned to walk away.
The theater was dark and near-empty as Dave followed Blaine up the aisle, one hand on the small of Blaine's back as he guided him toward the back row. There were people scattered throughout the aisles, mostly people whom neither of them knew.
"You sure you can handle this, David?" Blaine asked in a mocking tone, grinning as he sat down beside Karofsky. "I hear this movie's pretty scary."
"I got you to protect me," Dave laughed low in his throat, a sound that reminded Blaine of the times they'd try to be quiet on the phone when it was late at night.
"Yeah," Blaine smiled warmly, reaching over to tangle his fingers in Dave's. "You do."
The previews went by in an unseen blur as Blaine stared down at their connected hands; Dave's was larger, and slightly calloused, a perfect encasement for Blaine's smooth-skinned hand.
His focus was broken as Dave tensed beside him, and Blaine's eyes flew up to find his face flushed and slightly nervous.
Some kids from McKinley were walking up the aisle, and Dave's hand immediately loosened up over Blaine's, as if desperate to let go.
Blaine bit his lip softly as he slumped down in his seat, hearing Dave swallow deeply as the kids neared the back of the theater. "Just go," he insisted softly, taking a deep breath as Dave looked to him to confirm it. "Go," he repeated, flinching as Dave immediately shot out of his seat, moving two full rows away, leaving Blaine to be flanked by McKinley's A/V club.
"You looked good without all that gel in your hair today," Dave admitted softly down the line, and Blaine felt himself smile as he laid down in his bed, holding the phone tightly against his ear to hear each of Dave's soft words.
"You looked good without all those clothes on today," Blaine teased, thinking back to their impromptu date at the swimming pool. He felt like it'd kind of made them official, switching their status from two guys who shared a lot of flirty looks to... something more like boyfriends. And Blaine hadn't been able to get rid of the warm feeling in his stomach since.
"Shut up," Dave warned with a laugh, open and easy as Blaine grinned at himself.
"You don't want me to," Blaine teased arrogantly, feeling his smile drop as Dave suddenly cleared his throat.
"Um," he stammered into the phone, before directing muffled words to someone in the room with him. "No, dad... it's just one of the guys from the team. I was just hanging up anyway."
Blaine bit his lip as he wondered if this would ever stop, praying to whoever was listening that it would.
"So, Anderson, I gotta go," Dave started, and Blaine felt an odd sort of anger well up in his chest at being called by his last name, when just four hours ago, Dave was calling him 'Gorgeous', instead.
"Of course you do," he snapped back, words lost under the grating sound of the dialtone.
Blaine was trying to keep the impressed look off his face, as he watched Kurt work under the hood of a car in his father's garage. "You know," he started, stepping forward to get a better look at what Kurt was doing with the mechanics, "when I said we could hang out today, I didn't expect that this would be on the agenda."
"I know," Kurt sighed back, twisting something with an unexpected amount of force. "My dad just needs help sometimes, and I always try to give it, because his back's been really bad, and I--"
"No, Kurt, it's okay," Blaine insisted immediately, raising both hands out in front of him as he took a step back, startling slightly at the sound of a motor roaring in behind him.
He turned to find an old black car pulling in. He didn't know the make or model, or... whatever else was relevant when talking about cars. But as he sure as hell recognized it.
Dave's face flashed off a million masks of emotions as he stepped out of the car, and Blaine was vaguely aware of Kurt tensing in the edge of his vision.
"Hey, Kurt," Dave offered, trying to smile in a way Blaine could easily mark as fake. "I'm, uh... I'm just wondering if your dad could take a look at my steering column," he started, and Kurt stood up straight, wiping off his hands as he tossed a look back toward his father's office.
"Sure," he agreed softly, word coming out slowly, like a tape that'd been stretched out. "Blaine, you know... Dave," Kurt added, standing in place as if he'd forgotten what he was doing.
"Um, Blaine," Dave echoed, with a ridiculously confused look on his face. "No, I don't think we know each other."
Blaine's chest tightened uncomfortably as he swallowed down the words he wanted to say, keeping silent instead as he walked out of the garage, shaking his head at Dave on his way by.
"You're seriously not gonna sit with me?" Blaine cried out incredulously, disbelieving that his boyfriend (because yeah, he was calling him that now) would be this fucking ridiculous.
"Blaine," Dave warned, wrapping his hand around the Warbler's elbow, before pulling him behind the ring toss, and Blaine held his breath against the smells of sugary fried things in the air. "Do you see what I'm seeing right now?" He asked seriously, pointing out toward the ferris wheel, where Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans were about to get on.
"Yeah, I see, okay?" Blaine snapped back, pulling his arm out of Dave's grasp. "And I get that you're nervous about being public, and that you're still not even technically out, but... I gave you time to get that shit together, Dave," Blaine reminded with a dark tone. "It's been months, and you're still pretending like you don't even know my last name! And I can't handle that much longer," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.
Dave had no idea how much this really hurt him.
"I can't just... I can't just show up out here and be like 'Oh hey, kids I've known since grade school, I'm gay now, this is my boyfriend!'".
"Well you're gonna have to figure out a better way to say it then, I guess," Blaine warned, stepping forward to shove his hand roughly against Dave's chest. "Because I will not be your dirty little secret anymore."
Blaine tried not to take in the details of Dave's pained expression as he shoved the rest of his ride tickets into the pocket of Dave's letterman jacket, before turning on his heels to march out of the fair grounds.
Blaine kept his focus on Finn Hudson as he sat in the stands of the McKinley football field, trying to convince himself that he was there to support the team which his best friend's step brother was star quarterback of. No way would he allow himself to admit that he was watching his boyfriend's game, when said boyfriend wouldn't even dial his phone number in public.
The game went by in a blur, however; Blaine had very little interest in sports, and it was over by the time he'd just finally gotten comfortable.
McKinley won, he supposed, which was evident in the ecstatic screams and cheers around him. And he tried to smile as a few of the guys behind him started chanting up Dave's name. Blaine wished he would be allowed to voice it out so freely.
He was near the bottom of the bleachers quickly, deciding to book it out of the field as fast as possible, in an attempt to beat the parking lot traffic jam that was sure to occur in ten minutes. And that was when everything changed.
He found himself running head first into a solid wall of sweaty football jock, and he would have been disgusted if he'd had time to even think between the moment he was on the stairs, and the moment he was in Dave's arms.
"Dave!" He cried out in surprise and confusion, feeling himself flush as Karofsky picked him up, both arms wrapped around him. "What are you doing?" He asked on a gasp, arms flying around Dave's neck as his lips were suddenly attacked.
He melted into the kiss easily; it was warm and passionate and he almost forgot that it was public, until he opened his eyes to a sea of shocked and amused faces, soundtracked by gasps and catcalls and Dave just didn't care.
"Baby, you don't have to do this," Blaine insisted, trying to worm his way out of Dave's grasp. Sure, he'd wanted Dave to man up and claim him, but this was more than he'd ever imagined asking for.
"I was just waiting for the right moment, Blaine Anderson," Dave answered back simply, pressing his lips to Blaine's once again, before setting him down in time for the rest of the team to come in and swarm him away.
Blaine watched in shock as he stood on the edge of the field, as Dave was distracted by his roaring, screaming team mates. But in that moment, Blaine couldn't quite care, because he was finally sure that everyone knew who Dave'd be going home to at the end of the night.