Chapter Ten: Big Brother

"Don't cross your legs when you sit," Cooper leaned over to tell Blaine. Blaine glanced sideways at his brother. "That's just not how guys sit."

"It's how I sit."

"I'm just trying to help you out."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

"Sure thing," Cooper beamed. For a second, Blaine thought he was going to shut up, but Cooper had more wisdom to impart. "Try using your chest resonator when you speak. You're a little too nasally."

"I did pass twenty-four hours a day at Dalton, Cooper. Even before my voice dropped."

"Well, that was an all-boy school, Blaine. No one had reason to question it. In the real world, you've got to pull out those acting chops. Besides, you have to keep your instrument in tune, right?"

"Right," Blaine grumbled.

They were in the hospital waiting room because Cooper had finally convinced Blaine to see a doctor about his ribs. They had gotten better, but the pain hadn't gone away and sneezing or coughing still produced an agony the likes of which could only be topped by the original injury he'd sustained.

The summer had started off alright, but as soon as Cooper had gotten cast in some independent film that had posted its audition notice on Craig's List, his ego had shot into the stratosphere. Most of the time it was alright, but it seemed like Cooper had decided today was teach-Blaine-to-do-things day. He made a mental note not to preface anything with "You're right," when he spoke to Cooper again. Even if it involved his health.

The doctor asked who had prescribed him testosterone. For a second, Blaine panicked. Then he lied and said the practice had closed. "It's likely he was practicing without a valid license," Blaine heard the doctor tell his brother while they discussed Blaine's x-rays as though he wasn't there.

He was given a prescription for pain meds and orders not to bind for at least a month.

So Blaine didn't leave the house for a month, no matter what Cooper suggested they do. Luckily, Cooper knew a losing battle when he saw one and would bring movies from the library. When Cooper wasn't working or auditioning, they'd spend the day watching movies together and sometimes Cooper would go on a diatribe about how a certain choice an actor made was either brilliant or moronic, and Blaine wasn't sure how much more Nicholas Cage he could take, but it was really nice to hang out with his brother. He was glad Cooper spent time with him.

One night, Cooper even blew off a party with some big Hollywood director to hang out with him. Blaine had been a little angry about that, actually. He didn't want to be the reason Cooper missed his big break.

So, as soon as the month was up, Blaine left the apartment and got himself a job. It seemed a little sketchy- a guy named Carl with more beard than face owned the business- but he didn't need a work permit and was pretty sure he was getting paid under the table, but it wasn't like he'd never done anything illegal before. Carl would send Blaine an address, and Blaine would hop a bus and get paid a nice sum of money for cleaning someone's pool.

Halfway through July, Cooper told Blaine to cancel his pool cleaning gigs. "I've got a surprise for you," he said.

So they hopped on a bus and got off somewhere near where Blaine thought he'd cleaned a pool the week before. "Where are we going?" Blaine finally asked.

"Right here!" Cooper exclaimed, gesturing to an unassuming martial arts studio. "I won a free lesson from John Smith- he's one of Hollywood's foremost fight choreographers and stunt coordinators- and they said I could bring my little brother!"

"Cool," Blaine said, not feeling as enthusiastic as Cooper probably thought he should be. He also wasn't entirely sure that this guy was as prolific as Cooper seemed to think he was, but an afternoon spent karate chopping things with his brother didn't sound too bad.

The instructor showed them several moves and choreographed a brief fight between the two brothers- which Cooper insisted Blaine should win. Halfway through their first run of the whole fight, the instructor had them stop. He gestured to Blaine. "Are you a boxer?" he asked suddenly.

"No," Blaine replied, confused.

"You hold yourself like a boxer. You ever think of taking up boxing?"

Blaine shook his head.

"Take up boxing," John Smith said nonchalantly. "You'll be good at it. Also, it's good self-defense and, pardon my saying so, you are a bit small. Very likely target for a mugging."

"Oh," Blaine said. "Are there a lot of muggings in LA?"

"Take up boxing," the instructor said again. "Now. Start over. This time, hold your hands like this-"

By the time the free lesson was finally over, they were both sweating but happy. Cooper led him a few blocks north to an ice cream shop and bought them both root beer floats. "That was awesome," Blaine grinned as he used his straw to spoon some of the foam from the top of his mug into his mouth.

"It was," Cooper agreed. He let out a lungful of air. "Honestly, I feel so happy I could die. Are you going to take up boxing? I bet Dalton has a class for it."

"Maybe I will," Blaine nodded. He hadn't been that interested earlier, but now it seemed like a great idea. He'd really enjoyed the choreography they'd learned, and John Smith had had Blaine take a few swings at a punching bag, and it had felt really good. Definitely a great stress reliever. He bet that a bit of boxing followed by a shower would put him right to sleep at night.

By the end of the summer, Blaine had a lot of money saved up. He'd cleaned at least twenty pools a week, sometimes thirty, and got paid at least thirty dollars per pool, so his bank account was in the quadruple digits. In fact, he was quite certain he had enough saved up for the surgery he wanted. It would have to wait until winter break, but he could definitely afford to get it then. Especially if he kept working at the mall while he was in school.

Overall, the summer had been a success.