Politics and Playthings

            He finds Douglas at the table, complete with coffee, bacon roll, pencil, and blueprints all present as before - but the atmosphere feels completely different to the previous day.  Blaine silently retrieves his own coffee and breakfast then joins Douglas at the table.  The smell of food drew him from his room, and the fact that they have fallen into a routine so easily is not lost on Blaine.  He eyes his breakfast suspiciously battling his stomach's insistence that the roll is the last thing it needs. 

            ‘It'll make you feel better.'  Douglas' voice is soft but he does not look up from his work. 

            ‘Thank you.'  Blaine does not know what else to say.

He forces himself to eat, focusing on the man across from him rather than the nausea.  Douglas looks like he has not slept and Blaine finds himself wondering if it was something he did.  Most of the latter part of the previous evening is a blur to him, and he cannot recall how they got back to Douglas'; but he does recall fragments.  He sang Christmas carols with Charlie – it felt so good to have others appreciate his talent and encourage him again.  It had been a great pick-me-up following the events of Christmas Eve.  He recalls the heat of Charlie against him and the easy way that the blonde had reaped details from Blaine about his (now non-existent) personal life then asked for his number.  Blaine remembers entering it into the other man's phone – he instantly feels guilty at the memory, then quashes it – he is single after all.  He feels anything but single though whilst he shares breakfast, sitting across from Douglas.  It is so ridiculously domestic and Blaine knows how easily he could fall into patterns with the quiet architect.  Amber eyes flit over the face of the man before him as Blaine nurses his cooling coffee.  Blaine remembers the look he had caught Douglas giving him when Charlie had draped his arm across the shoulders of his new-found friend.  The older man's face had looked possessive, almost pained, and when their eyes had met it had sent a thrill through Blaine to his core.  He had found himself reacting viscerally: loosened as he had been by the warm courage of too much alcohol and a deep desire to forget.

He had not been attracted to Charlie – the man was handsome but there had been something about him that had set alarm bells ringing in Blaine's mind.  He puts it down to the easy way in which Charlie invaded personal space – but there was something else there, under the surface, that Blaine could not put his finger on in the haze of inebriation.  It had not stopped him playing the game back – touching because he could.  He would not deny that the attention had felt good, and that he had allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine, just for a moment, that the heat next to him had been belonged to a lover (if he was being truly honest he had imagined that it had been Kurt beside him, after all, Kurt would have loved the Club).  He had not, however, expected the effect it had had on Doulas – the way the man had been unable to look away.  Blaine had felt Douglas' eyes roam his body openly as he had performed, and, like at his parents' party, he had felt his breath catch a little in his throat whenever their eyes had met across the crowded space. 

As the sun's weak rays chased the last of the fog from Blaine's mind he cringed a little – perhaps Blaine had tried something in his drunken state on the way home.  Maybe that was why Douglas was being off with him?  Blaine felt an icy wave crash over him and he felt short of breath.  Of course a man like Douglas would not be interested in a boy like him – what had he got to offer exactly?  He had turned up like an urchin on the man's doorstep and he had taken him in out of pity and duty to a nephew he was getting to know after years of estrangement.  This was the Gap Attack all over again – he had read too much into something and seen something that was not there out of desperation and loneliness.  Blaine felt sick at the thought and was overcome with the desperate need to fix things.  The silence between the two of them as the antique clock marched time forwards seemed to cement Blaine's theory with each passing second until he could not stand the silence.

            ‘Um…Douglas?' 

Unreadable obsidian orbs met his own and Blaine forgot how to breathe.

            ‘Are you OK?'

The concern on the older man's face melted into his eyes, warming them to molten chocolate, and Blaine took a shaky breath.  He needed to know like he needed oxygen to live.

            ‘Yes…I, uh…I just wanted to know…Are we OK?'

He cringed a little at how young he sounded.  Douglas was always so put together – so adult - and Blaine could not seem to get coherent sentences out when he was around him.

            ‘Of course.  Why wouldn't we be?'

            ‘I just suddenly had this thought that maybe I said something last night or…that maybe I messed things up?'

Douglas laughed then and the sound was musical.  Blaine felt his shoulders relax.

            ‘We are just fine, Blaine.  And no – you didn't really say much at all because you fell asleep in the cab.'

He felt the blush flare in his cheeks and something about the sight seemed to make Douglas catch his breath – his laughter dying and leaving a soft smile in its wake.

            ‘Blaine?'

            ‘Sorry.  I just – I'm glad I guess.  I had a bit much to drink and I was worried for a moment there.'

Douglas' smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and Blaine's heart rate kicks up a notch.  He clears his throat and licks his lips nervously.

            ‘I was wondering whether I could maybe take you out to dinner tonight?  As a thank you.  I mean – it's Boxing Day – so I have no idea if we can even get a table anywhere but –‘

            ‘That would be lovely, thank you.'  Douglas cuts off Blaine's rambling.  ‘You don't have to thank me you know.'

            ‘I want to.'

            ‘So, where were you thinking?'  Douglas puts down the pencil he has been fiddling with and folds his arms.  Blaine tries not to notice the way the muscles in his arms flex.

            ‘Uh…I have no idea.  I don't really know New York too well.  Where would you suggest?'

            ‘Leave it with me, OK?'

Blaine nods then busies himself by clearing plates and mugs away from the table to distract himself from the confusing messages his body and mind were presently duelling over, because his body was presently winning and Blaine desperately needed to regroup.

-+-

            They end up going to a tiny little place that Blaine is certain he would never be able to find again, just as he is certain that Douglas chose it to ensure it would be in Blaine's budget.  The food, however, is exceedingly good – Lebanese – and they each order a couple of mezes knowing without having to discuss it that the intention is to share.  It feels long overdue, although in reality it has only been a couple of days, but they take the time to learn a bit about each other over dinner.  They talk about Douglas' family business and how he established the New York branch.  They talk about Blaine's career goals – but Blaine steers clear of talking about school or anything that he feels emphasises the difference in their ages.  They talk politics and Blaine takes pride in being able to hold an adult debate.  The conversation moves quickly and easily from there to gay rights and both get passionate about progress, and how much things have changed since Douglas was a boy.  Blaine knows enough from Doug and Cooper to steer clear of discussing family.

The second bottle of wine brings talk of failed relationships, and after the third, Blaine finds himself telling Douglas all about Kurt and Eli and the events that led to his shoeless appearance on Douglas' doorstep.  The older man listens but does not offer sympathies – he remains strangely quiet and thoughtful throughout Blaine's admission.  It feels cathartic to Blaine – like he is being given a clean slate.  The topic dies a little and Blaine fumbles for a new topic – the wine is starting to affect him more than he had realised, and he feels giddy.  Chocolate eyes meet his and Blaine loses all track of what he was saying so that when Douglas speaks, it takes Blaine quite a while to process.

            ‘Stay longer.'

It is a statement – another almost-command, and Blaine does not let himself over analyse.  He agrees, and as quickly as the topic had changed it changes again.

-+-

            Blaine is mildly surprised when Douglas actually lets him pay – he had half expected Douglas to do the uncle thing and to insist on paying even though Blaine had been the one to instigate dinner.  The gesture makes Blaine feel warm inside – underneath it means that Douglas considers him an equal. 

They walk back – warm-blooded with alcohol against the bitter December cold – and he is not sure whether it is the conversation flowing so easily between them, or whether it is another side-effect of the wine, but it takes them less time than he expected to get back to the penthouse.  Blaine leans into Douglas' side as the architect wraps a steadying arm around his young companion's waist in the elevator – he is engulfed by the spicy citrus of the other man's cologne and Blaine finds himself wondering whether he chose it for him.  He feels lightheaded and relaxed, loosed limbed and happy, and for a moment he actually thought Douglas was going to kiss him when he leant in to say goodnight.  Douglas embraces him in a one-armed hug and Blaine feels his stomach flip as he watches Douglas head for the other end of the penthouse.  He makes his own way to his room, feeling the ghost of the other man's breath against his neck.  The room spins slightly but he manages to hang on to the bed long enough to climb in.  He only realises that he is smiling when he feels the ache in his cheeks.