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Post by mikiyashida on Jul 5, 2011 20:44:40 GMT -6
Miki's feet hurt in her clean, secretly cheap but undeniably chic heeled leather boots as she stood in front of the little Marc Jacobs Boutique at the luxurious Willow Creek Shopping Center in Westerville, Ohio. Sure, there was a parking lot five feet behind her but there was no way she was parking her little car next to all the BMWs and Jags. She tried not to look to excited at the prospect of getting an excellent piece of clothing. Sure, going to second-hand shops and buying some things at the Forever 21 nearby kept her looking as though she were buying from the high-end but buying an actual DKNY original from a Marc Jacobs store? Miki leaned against a white, spiral column and took a deep breath as she finished her internal analysis of her fashion-life up to that moment.
She wasn't on the slushie spectrum of McKinley society but being in Glee Club would probably launch her into the deep end. It was better to strut her stuff in whatever she bought before taking that plunge... that is, if New Directions even wanted her.
"They had that Sam guy and Lauren..."
Miki stood a bit straighter in her black and red striped knee-long sweater and fixed her hair a bit as the glass doors to the store opened and a couple of girls walked out. One of them smiled at her while the other too seemed to smirk. The seventeen year old tried not to flip them off as she held onto her tiny black handbag. She opened the door into the store and walked in.
"Just act like those girls on TV and sell it."
The attendant nearby gave her a clipped 'Hello' so Miki turned her head down a bit and gave her that 'once-over' look all the plastic queens did. The woman, dressed all in black, only turned and started fixing one of the sequined tops on a mannequin. The young Asian teen turned her attention to the racks and simply walked on by, slowly but surely sneaking glances at the tags.
She worked four jobs over the course of her pre-sophomore summer and sophomore year. She had well over $1,000 and $500 of those were funneled into her college fund. She needed something for her. Something that screamed 'that's right, I worked my ass off for this ridiculously expensive thing and I work it'.
The girl glanced at pairs of $90 shoes and $640 handbags before finding just the thing. A DKNY Crepe Jacket. It was black and simply cut, didn't scream too 'Upper Crust' but it was so non-flamboyant. However, mixed with the right accessories, even a second hand short dress, and it would stand out.
"Black with white pipping, only one button and no pockets. No chance of it getting caught anywhere unless I happen to be running through the kitchen and Mom left all the utensils out... again." She made a mental note to never, ever wear it to a family gathering.
Never in a million years could she do that, even if her cousin Yumi came around and flaunted her father's stupid Spa-spot money in her face. Miki's leather bound feet moved her forward and she reached out to touch the right sleeve of the jacket. She could already see the tag on it.
"Only $400, perfect!" The girl whispered as her fingers drew ever closer to the cute jacket.
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Post by KURT HUMMEL on Jul 6, 2011 1:02:39 GMT -6
,been black and blue before
• • • • there’s no need to explain <<
[/color] >>I am not the jaded kind, • • • •
playback’s such a waste [/color] -x-
Kurt hummed along quietly to his Lady Gaga and Wicked playlist blasting out of the speakers around him. He was headed to the Westerville mall to meet up with none other than Blaine Anderson for the day. He was pretty excited, but a bit nervous at the same time. It was a pretty stupid reason to be nervous, actually. He had stumbled across a cardigan that morning, and it was quite odd. He thought he had seen it before, but he couldn't place his finger on where it came from. It defiantly wasn't his, he was sure it wasn't Finn's because of the size... so whose was it? After wondering for a few moments, he remembered where he had seen it before. It was the day after Nationals in New York. Blaine had wanted to know what happened, so Kurt decided to meet up with him at the Lima Bean. They talked about everything that went on, and then headed back to Kurt's house for dinner because Blaine's parents were out of town and Carole practically forced Kurt to ask Blaine. Blaine was wearing the cardigan, and had taken it off while watching a football game with Finn and Burt. Kurt remembered sitting in the dining room with Carole, half-discussing a magazine and half-focusing on Blaine.
So Kurt was nervous that Blaine would remember the cardigan and think Kurt was some kind of freak for wearing it... but it just clicked with his outfit, so he couldn't let it up. ”This is not helping you with trying to get over him...” Kurt muttered to himself as he parked his Navigator in front of the mall. He sat in the silence for a few moments, wondering if he should wait until Blaine showed or just go ahead and go in. Blaine didn't really enjoy shopping as much as Kurt did, anyway. He brought his phone out of his pocket to see that he was about thirty minutes early. ”Well, that gives me thirty minutes to browse around..." He smiled and got out of his car.
”Okay, Kurt, you're not buying anything until Blaine gets here because it would look bad if you greeted him with ten bags in your hands...” Kurt thought to himself as he glanced around the Westerville Mall. He had never been in this mall before, considering when he was at Dalton he could just raid Reed's closet and didn't have to step foot into a mall. But it looked really nice, far nicer than Lima's. And was that... a Marc Jacobs store? ”Are you serious?!” Kurt almost yelled to himself, attracting a few very odd looks from people passing him. He couldn't figure out how in the hell he had never been to this mall, when there was a Marc Jacobs store so close. He thought online shopping was as good as it got! Well, and Reed's closet.
Heading into the Marc Jacobs store, meet you there. – Kurt
He sent Blaine a quick message before turning and almost sprinting into the store, drooling over everything. He didn't even want to touch anything, it was just too... unreal. He glanced over his shoulder and almost dropped dead. Was that... yes, it was. A DKNY Crepe Jacket. He was thinking of all the opportunities he would have to wear it this year, it was perfect. He was already planning outfits as he walked over to it, not noticing another girl inspecting it. He reached forward with a grin on his face and grabbed the smooth fabric, yanking it off the hanger. But wait, he felt a small yank on the other side... ”Wha-Hey, I totally had this first! Dibsdibsdibs!” He jumped up and down very childishly and wailed. ”This is the only one they have and I can't let this up.” He stopped jumping and stood his ground firmly, raising an eyebrow at the girl. She looked a familiar, but he wasn't focusing on that right now. He just wanted his damn jacket and would do anything to get it.
-x- [/font] [/font][/b] 672 [/li][li] Comments;[/font][/b] This is going to be hilarious(: [/li][li] Outfit;[/font][/b] Shirt: www.altruapparel.com/mustaches-ages-mens-p-616.html?osCsid=e23c22dc48e4200ce98c476d15f304a0&imagesID=1438Sweater: www.topman.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ProductDisplay?catalogId=33056&storeId=12555&categoryId=207652&parent_categoryId=234016&productId=2243450&langId=-1&cmpId=616&cmpid=aw_default&_$ja=tsid:19899Shoes: i1004.photobucket.com/albums/af161/onemoreniiiight/Glee%20Style/Posts/222/kny5b.jpgPants: White skinnies [/li][li] Credit;[/font][/b] Lovely banner by Britt/Rachel![/right][/li][/ul] [/font] |
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Post by mikiyashida on Jul 6, 2011 13:55:38 GMT -6
Miki took a moment to stare at the young man before her as though he were some deranged Mormon at her door, preaching to her the wonders of his religion. She didn't have anything against them but the ones who showed up to her door were seriously creepy. The girl held the jacket to her body, the nimble fingers of her right hand wrapped around the hanger's hook.
He looked familiar. Too familiar.
Then it hit her and her brow furrowed a bit more.
"Hummel?"
The boy in the red cardigan and mustache shirt was definitely from McKinley. She remembered walking by him while Jacob Ben Israel harassed him about his summer plans. Hadn't she gotten red slushie on her shoes that day as well? It was a memory that bubbled up to the surface like the sudden explosion of magma from a crevice deep beneath the sea and-
She needed to stop watching Discovery Channel.
"Oh... Stupid Azimio." The girl muttered under her breath. She adjusted her posture a bit, her left hand playing at the hem off her long sweater, pulling a bit at the white-washed shorts underneath.
First things first. Diffuse the situation. Some friendly banter between acquaintances would be enough to calm things down before the tension actually began to spread out.
"What brings you all the way to Westerville?" As if she already didn't know.
She'd taken multiple pictures of New Directions during school assemblies and at competitions (minus Nationals) and even though the Yearbook adamantly refused to publish them (probably Sylvester's doing) she knew they were good. Also, who in the school didn't know Kurt? The only out guy who had the acorns to wear a skirt to school (granted, with skinny jeans underneath). Miki held onto the black crepe jacket and leaned a bit on her left foot. Kurt Hummel had enough fashion pieces, she thought. Just because most people in Lima barely knew what Dior was didn't mean she was just as ignorant. She had always slightly marveled at the Marc Jacobs tops and the Alexander McQueen boots that literally popped out from whatever online blog she read and appeared on the boy's slender body. If she saw it online in the new spring line, chances were he would have it on two weeks later.
It was hard not to notice for her, clothe-obsessed as she was. It wasn't hard to notice all the really, really nice clothes he had so the chances he wanted this particular piece was inconvenient. Fate's way of saying 'F-You'.
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Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Jul 6, 2011 18:49:45 GMT -6
Blaine glanced down at his phone as he jogged into the Westerville Mall, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool air hit his face. While it was true that Ohio was cooler the Nevada inferno he'd just come home from, he hadn’t really stepped out of the ridiculously spacious resort at all and supposed he had gotten a little spoiled by the constant air conditioning.
Heading into the Marc Jacobs store, meet you there. – Kurt
He sent a reply, half-knowing that Kurt probably wouldn’t check his phone at the moment, but surrendering to the ingrained instinct to respond to the younger boy immediately.
Cool. Can’t wait. – B
After a moment, he added, Don’t buy the whole store before I get there. I reserve the right to watch you try things on. : ) …That sounded wrong, didn’t it. He’d tried to stick to a secret strict no-flirting policy where Kurt was concerned lately; his mixed signals when they’d first become friends had been completely unfair to the other boy and more than a little awkward. The problem was that he hadn’t been entirely aware he was sending them. Perhaps Kurt would just take it the way he’d actually meant it, and ignore the hypothetical subtext. Assuming the way he thought he actually meant it was, indeed, the way he actually meant it.
He really needed to stop composing mental thesis papers on every single word he said to Kurt. He took a steadying breath, set his jaw, and sent the text.
He hadn’t seen Kurt as frequently as he would have liked over the summer. He definitely would have preferred it to a tense three-week vacation with his parents, and as much as he welcomed the chance to spend some time with his brother, he’d lived with Reed all year and was already well aware of the many joys of the blonde’s eye color, facial structure, and vocal timbre. The most exciting thing about Las Vegas (beyond Phantom-Lite) had probably been the excuse to sing half of “Waking Up in Vegas” at Kurt’s voicemail and squeeze in a quick “miss you” before the clipped, robotic voice cut him off.
Kurt and Reed could probably recognize Marc Jacobs just from a peripheral sighting of the displays, but Blaine kept his eyes on the names of the stores as he passed them.
His flight had only just landed yesterday, but seeing Kurt for the first time in a month was one of his top priorities—way above spending the day unpacking. He didn’t really see the problem with storing his clothes in a suitcase until he inevitably cleared it out. This mentality probably would have horrified his friend, and Blaine had suggested they meet at the Westerville shopping center instead of inviting him over, knowing Kurt had never been and hoping he’d see something he liked.
Tiffany & Co…Giorgio Armani…
Those were pretty cool for someone who was into that stuff, right?
Blaine honestly found shopping a little boring, aside from occasional excursions with David and Wes that involved trying on three hundred dollar sunglasses, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous they looked, and invariably being asked to leave, capped off by inquiries about potential make-up gifts for estranged girlfriends and the inevitable complaint that, as a gay guy, Blaine ought to have more style savvy. This had always confused him. How on earth—logically—was he supposed to know what to buy for a girl? Or anyone, for that matter? Actually spending more than a few minutes scrutinizing scarves and purses seemed like a chore, but there was something about the way Kurt practically glowed when he talked about clothes that made the whole experience so much more appealing. If nothing else, it would entertaining to observe the McKinley student in his element; when he was excited, he radiated a kind of warmth Blaine found absolutely infectious.
Starbucks…Calvin Klein…GAP… He instinctively averted his eyes. It was ridiculous, seeing as he’d never set foot in this particular GAP, but the iconic logo brought up feelings of intense embarrassment all the same. He could never resist feeling a strong emotion without analyzing it, and reflected that the sensation wasn’t so much innate and incurable as a conclusion from some disapproving cognitive process that he ought to be ashamed when passing a GAP. So, theoretically, he could get over it with minimal effort. Theoretically. He walked hastily around the other side of a large stone planter.
For the number of cars there had been in the parking lot, Marc Jacobs seemed a bit deserted. The sales lady arched a penciled eyebrow at him as he slipped through the glass doors. In slightly faded jeans and an almost-too-small Jekyll & Hyde t-shirt from a regional production he’d seen in ninth grade, he looked out of place here. His shoes were expensive, but they were running shoes, which, while much more comfortable than the elaborate compositions Kurt always sported, didn’t exactly scream class. And they were probably coming untied. He gave her a lopsided grin and a brisk little wave. She’d probably be astounded to find that he’d tutored the guy whose dad owned this mall in chemistry. (Not because he was outstanding at chemistry, but because most of the other Windsors either lost interest when tutoring, knew so much about chemistry that they were impossible to follow, or had an uncanny habit of blowing up portions of the study room tables while making “helpful” demonstrations.)
Now, where…? Ah. A sound of delight and a rapid volley of words that sounded distinctly Kurt-ish. He let out a short laugh and choked back another at the sales lady’s disapproving glance in the direction of the disturbance. Bouncing up onto his toes (he wasn’t quite tall enough to see over that rack of clothing), he caught sight of a flash of red and Kurt’s impeccably styled hair. On closer inspection (because he hadn’t seen the other boy in a while, and there was really nothing weird about making a closer inspection), the sweater didn’t seem like Kurt’s usual style—assuming anything could be pinned down as “usual” for Kurt.
Oh. That was it. His eyes widened infinitesimally, and his heart and lungs both lurched wildly as if he’d sat down to an AP test an drawn a complete blank on the first FRQ. Oh.
This…changed things. Did this change things? What the hell were “things,” anyway? Did it actually mean anything at all? Should he bring it up? Would he end up phrasing it in a way that drew attention to the fact that he was a spoiled little rich kid who could afford to lose clothes right and left without paying it much thought? That wasn’t true, after all. Well, he could afford new clothes, as much as he constantly resisted his mother’s attempts to provide them—but it wasn’t true that he hadn’t noticed. He liked that cardigan. Especially on K— Blaine sighed and massaged his forehead, vainly trying to stop his face from heating up. That unbidden, despicably hormonal thought (which had a warm, sentimental dimension he refused to consider at the moment) brought him to Point B. Would anything that came out of his mouth right now sound like a come-on? Probably.
Was he overanalyzing this? He sighed. He was overanalyzing this.
He settled for a tried and true tactic: avoidance. Say nothing about it. Act naturally.
He noticed the young woman on Kurt’s other side for the first time and felt a trickle of relief. As it appeared his friend was already engaged, he could pass his silence off as a polite hesitance to cut in. He drew closer and smiled warmly at her from behind Kurt’s back, then made a half-turn to some jackets a few steps away, pretending to peruse them intently as he collected himself.
[/color] (Word Count) 1300. Phew. I honestly don't know why it's this long. [/li][li][/color] (Notes) Aha. I have solved the parent problem by locking myself in my room and performing maintenance on an extremely old computer that takes an hour to boot up. I apologize for my earlier abuse of commas. Woo for my first-ever post in a Glee roleplay![/li][/ul] |
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Post by KURT HUMMEL on Jul 7, 2011 0:58:33 GMT -6
,been black and blue before
• • • • there’s no need to explain <<
[/color] >>I am not the jaded kind, • • • •
playback’s such a waste [/color] -x- stood his ground, ignoring his phone buzzing in his pocket. He glanced behind his shoulder for a moment, making sure the Warbler hadn't arrived yet. He hadn't... unless he was hiding behind a display, which wouldn't be out of the question because he was a full inch or two shorter than Kurt. Kurt swung his head back around to stare at the girl full-on. He had seen her somewhere, perhaps in the hallways? Maybe she had been one of the appalled or snickering faces behind Karofsky and his bunch after they slushied Kurt. Maybe he had just noticed her around town somewhere, or seen her face pop up on facebook. He glared at her for another short moment before looking down to the jacket, loosening his grip a little because he didn't want to tear the fabric. Sure, he wanted the jacket badly.. but he didn't want to spend money on it if it was torn. 'How much is it, anyway?' He thought to himself. He glanced around past the girl, looking for some kind of price indication. Ah, there it was. A tag hanging off of the sleeve. He raised his eyebrows at the price. Four hundred? That wasn't too bad. He wasn't sure how much the piece usually ran for, considering he wasn't seeking out the individual item when he walked into the store, but he knew it was at least a little more than that online.
He blinked a few times as he heard the girl speak his name. ”Yeah, who else would it be?” He sneered a little. He had to admit, he was being kind of rude about the whole situation. He usually wasn't this mean when it came to fashion, unless he was critiquing one of Rachel Berry's horrid outfits. I mean, who did she think liked them? They were like a cross between a toddler and an old librarian's wardrobe. He never quite understood what look she was going for, but he had to give it to her... even though the outfits were odd, she pulled them off somehow.
Yashida. That was it. He was finally able to place a name. She had been the one Rachel was griping about a few months ago after a picture popped up online somewhere. The picture was perfectly fine, actually. It was just a really silly one of Rachel. She was insecure about her nose; and the way her mouth was open and the sun hit her face while they were singing Empire State of Mind last year made it look a lot worse than it was. He muffled a laugh, thinking of how much drama it had caused in the club. He missed sitting in the background and listening to Rachel's stupid little squabbles. She had seemed to mature a little (tiny) bit in the past year, so fights with Quinn, Finn, and basically everyone in the club hadn't occurred as often.
”Yashida.” He smirked a little. ”Well, I didn't come to fight over a jacket which I clearly had first, by the way. What brought you to Westerville?” he tugged on the jacket lightly, trying to get the point across that he wasn't giving up on the jacket unless another one suddenly appeared. Like that would happen. Yeah, he had plenty of other pieces in his closet at home. Alexander Maqueen, a few Marc Jacobs pieces he was proud of... but this jacket was just that one thing he had to have, even if it put a huge dent in his wallet. ”I don't know how long you're prepared to stand here, but I'm not afraid to stand here all day, unless someone drags me off. Which probably won't happen. So maybe we should come to some agreement before I rip the jacket, which I clearly do not want to do.” He shrugged and pursed his lips, giving her one of the “don't-mess-with-me” looks he had copied off of Mercedes.
He watched as the girls gaze averted behind him for a short second and felt someone brush past him, but no way he was getting distracted. He was going to get this jacket one way or another.
[/font][/color] -x- [/font][/b] 718 [/li][li] Comments;[/font][/b] Blaine's thoughts are really hysterical.. in a good way XD [/li][li] Credit;[/font][/b] Lovely banner by Britt/Rachel![/right][/li][/ul] [/font] |
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Post by mikiyashida on Jul 8, 2011 21:20:44 GMT -6
Miki's lips moved into a small, polite smile at the sight of the adolescent that walked through the racks behind Hummel's thin figure. He wasn't a tall fellow and had eyebrows that were slightly thick. His hair reminded him of James Marsden's in Hairspray. She thought that if he stood on one of the nearby tables and began a rendition of 'Nicest Kids in Town' it wouldn't be so out of place. It was clear that the hair was the love child of curly-hair gene inheritance and tubs of either mousse or hair gel. The boy wasn't that bad looking at all, but it was clear that even with her boots off he'd be about two inches shorter.
"...I'm not afraid to stand here all day, unless someone drags me off. Which probably won't happen. So maybe we should come to some agreement before I rip the jacket, which I clearly do not want to do.”
Barter. Barter like your life depended on it. Hitting someone over an expensive jacket might've been more of Miki's style if they were at a local store where she absolute knew those size 5 boots weren't going to be found anywhere else but not here. It was uncalled for and rather than have rumors circulating around the school about her trying to slap someone for a DKNY original she figured bartering would be the next best thing.
"I know that scratching each others' eyes out might seem appealing right now but it'd probably get blood all over the jacket and would grant us life-long bans from any place that carries anything remotely couture within a 20 mile radius..." The girl's grip on the hanger didn't loosen one bit.
The only thing she could bargain with were her photography skills. While the only two people with any actual skill at not just snapping a quick shot with a digital camera were her and Jacob, she was really, really less creepy. It didn't help her when it came to cases like Rachel Berry, who would passive-aggressively tell her that the photo just didn't capture the right light. Like it was her taking the picture and not the one setting up the tripod. Miki had learned, quite quickly, that being known for taking above-average pictures often lead to favors for the nice but cheap people: marriage portraits, Christmas post-cards, as well as official deals for the Cheerios. The last was more of a way of avoiding any social or emotional punishment/reprimand from Sue Sylvester. At the least, it kept her traveling with the group to all their major events (where after parties were guaranteed to have booze, not that she drank any).
"... I'm pretty sure you're similar to Berry in one way. Yes, yes I did say you're similar: you both praise yourselves when picking out morning outfits or special occasion outfits. You like to look good." Anyone with a sound mind could see that but Miki quietly praised hours of quiet observation and televised psychologist shows. "Any-who, you probably appreciate a good head shot and 8 x 10 shot so I'm prepared to trade you two hours of my time for any pictures you might want or need."
Completely, 100% free was her point since she knew trying to get a cent out of the boy might get her offer refused. Miki stared at the boy, trying to keep a polite but small smile on her face. It was hard since she had never mastered the natural smile more devious people could adopt when in difficult situations. So she stood there with a polite but slightly pinched expression on her face. She waited for two things:
One, for Hummel to respond to her offer or, two, for someone to slap her so she could unleash three years of personal-defense seminars on them.
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Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Jul 11, 2011 2:06:46 GMT -6
Right. So…The business of accustoming himself to friends unexpectedly showing up to mall dates in his clothes was going…well.
The cardigan was a just little looser on Kurt’s narrower shoulders, and though Blaine was hopeless at coordinating outfits, he had to admit that something about it worked well with the rest of what he could see, especially…No. The sweater was one thing, but he had no reason to stare at the characteristically tight jeans. Those were normal, and therefore did not merit any special appreciation notice.
If it weren’t for the rather wide-eyed, potentially comical expression he suspected he was wearing, his behavior would probably be a little creepy by now. Time to pull himself together.
It was just that the way he’d forgotten Kurt smelled until he’d gotten too close, lost his nerve, and ducked back into the pressed shirts made Blaine picture the younger boy wrapped in one of his overlarge t-shirts (quite possibly the most ludicrous fever-dream of wishful thinking he’d ever experienced)—and maybe something like waking up next to him. He winced ever so slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, wondering where the hell that had come from and whether it would kindly go back there. Definitely too much too fast, he chided his subconscious. You’re probably experiencing the unpleasant aftereffects of three weeks without seeing him.
…Come to think of it, his rational, conscious thought processes were just as unhelpful as the other ones, and considerably more pathetic.
It took him a moment to realize that he was currently witnessing a negotiation of enormous gravity. The atmosphere reminded him peculiarly of the breathless, razor-sharp tension concentrated around some of the high-stakes tables he’d passed in Vegas just a couple nights ago, and for a split second, the comparison made him want to laugh. He forced it back by focusing on the deadly serious demeanor of the two combatants. Experience—some a little too firsthand for comfort—had taught him that Kurt could be positively scary when he was feeling stubborn, and from the shrewd, collected way Yashida had responded (she obviously wasn’t intimidated, Blaine had to give her that), it didn’t seem likely that either would give in easily.
He really should have eaten before he got here.
His eyebrows rose a little farther when the girl made her next move. Wow. She’s good. She was so resolutely polite about it that he just had to respect her, and in her assessment of the very few temptations that might ply Kurt away from a piece he had his eye on, she was probably right on the money.
He was relieved to see the other boy shift a little in what he assumed was indecision and confirmed the suspicion by drawing level with him and succinctly appraising his expression. There was a definite waver in that steely resolve. Time to intervene.
It wasn’t that he was particularly opposed to Kurt’s bid for this holy grail of overpriced fashion pieces (he’d gone into this venture fully anticipating that he’d spend a lot of time carrying bags, and he never minded behaving like a gentleman when it came to Kurt, as silly as that sounded). However, the fact that a potential victor had presented herself without his interference appealed to his desire to resolve things as quickly as possible and so move on to the more important business of catching up. That…and he may have been just a little bit biased toward the other boy’s current choice of outerwear.
“That sounds like quite an offer…But if you let Kurt buy that jacket, I might get my sweater back,” he interjected lightly, before he could help himself, grinning playfully at the pair of them—first at the girl, then at Kurt. It was a long-shot attempt to lighten the tension with sheer spontaneity, and might have been the wrong thing to say at this particular moment, but hopefully he could shake Kurt up a bit while technically making a show of support for his disintegrating cause. His hand came to rest at the elbow of the sweater in question after giving the upper arm a brisk, demonstrative tap. The touch lingered until he remembered that this was Kurt’s elbow—in other words, decidedly off-limits to the gentle, thoughtlessly possessive way he’d brushed his fingers against it. For a split second, he felt a little petulant. These things never seemed to occur to him until after the fact.
It probably wouldn’t be wise to fluster his friend too much under the circumstances (especially not in front of someone else), so the inquiry on the tip of his tongue—whether she’d throw in a 4x6 for him, because it was completely unfair that Kurt had a photo of him and not vice versa—was filed away as Terribly Inappropriate (even though it was, in a sense, completely in earnest). He’d always theorized that the best way to calm a situation down was to be calm oneself. Two or so years in Windsor house had severely tested this assumption, but he still relied on it.
“You know, Kurt, if you stand here all day, I’m going home,” he teased, flinging an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze, a gesture that felt a little more casual and platonic than the previous one. It was a complete lie. If Kurt really intended to hold his ground, Blaine probably would have camped out resolutely next to him, occasionally trying to cajole him into leaving. That’s what Wes and David would describe as ‘utterly whipped,’ his subconscious supplied helpfully. He ignored it.
“Blaine Anderson.” He pulled his arm away from Kurt’s shoulders to offer his hand to the young woman. “Sorry for butting in.” In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been the most socially appropriate thing to do, but if it helped her land that jacket, he figured she couldn’t be too annoyed with him.
[/color] (Word Count) 982…Honestly, at one point, I had 350 and could have sworn I was almost done. [/li][li][/color] (Notes) Sorry for the delay! And for the weird tone of this post. Just couldn’t shake it.[/li][/ul] |
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Post by KURT HUMMEL on Jul 11, 2011 20:57:26 GMT -6
,been black and blue before
• • • • there’s no need to explain <<
[/color] >>I am not the jaded kind, • • • •
playback’s such a waste [/color] -x-
Kurt raised an eyebrow and smirked at her comment. Yes, scratching each others eyes out did seem very appealing, but he agreed, shaking his head just slightly. He knew he could get the stain out, he had gotten plenty of blood stains out of his favorite pieces due to Karofsky shoving him around, but he never let up the chance to avoid using his long remedies of stain removal. He loosened his grip on the hanger a bit, realizing he was basically clutching it like his life depended on it, and took a deep breath. Calm down, Hummel. It's only a jacket. He thought as his eyes grazed over the jacket. He already had about twenty outfits planned and they just kept adding up by the second.
"... I'm pretty sure you're similar to Berry in one way. His head snapped up faster than it took for him to catch on to a new trend as he heard the phrase. Who did she think she was, comparing him to Rachel Berry?! Of all people! She was better compared to Santana, in his opinion. Of course, Rachel was a tad bit nicer. Santana just had attitude problems... but the two of them knew what they wanted and would go to great lengths to get it. Hey, maybe Kurt did relate after all. He shook the thought away. After Miki finished her sentence, Kurt pursed his lips and awaited what she was going to follow that up with. He didn't want to take up the idea of scratching her eyes out just yet.
Wait, did she just offer two hours of her time for any pictures he might need? Seriously? Kurt concentrated for a moment, comparing the two options. 1: Let the offer down and put up a fight. 2: Accept the offer and whine about his loss to Blaine for the rest of the shopping trip. Oh, right. Blaine. When is he supposed to get here anyway? Kurt glanced around once more, trying not to make it obvious that he was looking for someone. He didn't exactly see Blaine... maybe he was running late. Concentrate, Kurt. he reminded himself. Or option three: Let down the offer and switch his approach, trying to sweetly talk her out of buying the jacket. Even though he still couldn't shake the whole Rachel Berry comment.
“You're serious?” He gave her another look and perched his free hand on his hip. ”And this would be totally free?” Was this girl absolutely nuts? He almost burst out in laughter after he thought up another plan. 4: Accept the offer, secretly send Rachel to the photoshoot. Oh, that would just be too hilarious. He could imagine Rachel... well, actually, he couldn't. She came of as a freakish brat when someone unintentionally took her photo... and if the light hit her face the wrong way in a professional photo, she would probably go absolutely berserk.
Kurt almost jumped out of his skin when none other than Blaine Anderson himself suddenly appeared beside him, voicing his opinion. ”Damn...” He accidentally muttered out loud. His eyes went wide as Blaine commented about the sweater. Kurt felt the blood rushing up to his cheeks all the sudden and turned his face, trying to hide his obvious reaction. ”Oh, that... That was.. Is this yours? I-I forgot. I just, didn't... It was in my closet,” He mentally slapped himself. Why would it be in his closet? Blaine would think he was hoarding it or something! “”No, wait. I found it... Carole brought it to me this morning because she found it and it went with my outfit so I had to wear it.” He heard the words rush out of his mouth, cringing at how much of an idiot he sounded like. Oh, wait. Did Blaine just touch his elbow or something? He snapped his head around to look. Kurt, calm down. It's just Blaine. You hang out with him all the time. He's touched your arm before. It's no big deal. Besides, you're with Sam now. Oh, right. Sam. He thought to himself. He decided that he wouldn't tell Blaine about it yet. Besides, he was still a bit confused about the whole situation, he didn't want to tell anyone until all of the facts were straight. But Blaine was basically his best friend, right behind Mercedes. He was still kind of disappointed when Blaine took his hand away.
”Uh...” Kurt swallowed. He didn't exactly know where he stood, now that Blaine interrupted and made his thoughts roam about in his head, going in five different directions. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, thinking of his options again. Clawing the girls eyes out suddenly wasn't so appealing, now that Blaine was there. He didn't want Blaine to see that side of him, although he might have already. Kurt hoped Blaine hadn't heard his snarky remark minutes ago.
”No, I won't be here all day, silly.” He rolled his eyes at Blaine and turned to fully look at him. Gosh, was he that close? Kurt realized he was holding his breath for a moment too long as he breathed out, unable to rip his gaze from the shorter boy beside him. Why does he have to do that to me? Kurt thought, wanting to slap him upside the head for being so... just.. so Blaine. Kurt told himself repeatedly that he was in love with Sam. SamSamSam. Nobody else. Well, okay, he had to admit to himself that he did still have feelings for Blaine. It wasn't something he could get over within a few days, he knew it would take time. But he also knew he wouldn't have to worry about it because Blaine didn't like him that way. Blaine probably didn't become short of breath every time he looked at Kurt. Blaine probably didn't dream of Kurt's blue eyes like Kurt dreamt of Blaine's hazel eyes. Blaine only saw him as a friend, and Kurt was grateful that they at least had a functioning friendship. After all, where would he be without Blaine? Probably in the bottom of a trashcan in the McKinley parking lot.
Wait, did he just... what? Alarms were going off in Kurt's head, and he was about to flip into some idiot right in the middle of the store. He felt another blush creep along his face, making it obvious that he kind of... well, liked Blaine's arm around his shoulders. Kurt... don't even start up with that. SamSamSam, He started repeating in his head. He was in love with Sam. Not Blaine. He reached a hand up and patted Blaine's hand, which was on the other side of his face. It was a small gesture, it didn't really mean anything at all. He forced himself to move his hand down to his side. Now he wasn't holding the jacket at all, he had come up with his choice.
He felt Blaine remove his arm from his shoulders and reach forward to shake the girls hand. He had to admit, a small pang of jealousy smacked him in the gut, but he ignored it. ”Making friends with the enemy, aren't we.” Kurt said stiffly. ”Alright. If you're serious about this whole deal, and there isn't some loophole... I guess I'll take it. Besides, I can't let Blaine wait. He might die of boredom.” He said the last part sarcastically. ” I probably need to walk him down to the candy store. Maybe even the toy store, if he's nice.” Kurt smirked and reached forward to ruffle Blaine's hair. Well, he attempted to at the least. How in the world did Blaine wear all of that hair gel? It had to add another five pounds. He wondered how Blaine's hair looked without it. Was it uncontrollably curly? Did he have some kind of an unappealing afro underneath it all? Kurt chuckled as he brought his hand back down to his side.
The regret of losing the jacket was just sinking in. He hoped Blaine didn't mind walking around the mall for four hours at the least. Kurt wasn't in the happiest mood, and that usually led to hours upon hours of browsing through clothes.
-x- [/font][/b] 1350 [/li][li] Comments;[/font][/b] Hahaha, that was too funny. [/li][li] Credit;[/font][/b] Lovely banner by Britt/Rachel![/right][/li][/ul] [/font] |
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Post by mikiyashida on Jul 11, 2011 21:46:08 GMT -6
The pinched expression on Miki's face only turned into a somber one, allowing her left eyebrow to rise steadily in the face of Hummel's doubt. It was working, ever so slightly. It was a bold-faced move to offer something off the bat for the jacket but taking two hours of her time wouldn't be too bad.
"And this would be totally free?"
"You'd be letting go of a $400 jacket. I'm not going to make you pay for the shoot..." She couldn't stop the scoff that left her mouth. She wasn't letting that jacket go but she wasn't some heartless bitch out to make a quick buck or two. Leave that to the small-town girls too desperate to use actual brains to make it out of Lima.
She paused as her eyes looked at the bobbing head behind Hummel. It came sideways and away from the racks, the curled hair still attached to the body of the admittedly handsome young man scanning the clothes. As he came forward Miki wondered if he was a local and not just some well-dressed cow town born boy like Kurt.
“That sounds like quite an offer…But if you let Kurt buy that jacket, I might get my sweater back,”
When his hand came to rest on the taller boy's shoulder she made the connection that perhaps they were friends. When he commented that the red cardigan her current foe, for lack of a better word, was wearing was his, Miki didn't let the mild confusion go unseen. She did, however, try to hide the smile that came at the pink flush over Hummel's face.
She didn't know if he had been attached to anyone. If he had a boyfriend the guy definitely wasn't from McKinley. It was impossible for a school of nearly 800 students to have only one homosexual but they certainly weren't lining up to jump out of the closet. Plus the school he had transferred to during the previous years was known to be an all-boys academy. Although maybe none of them were willing to trade Mommy and Daddy's funds for the passionate puppy love only adolescence could bring. She needed to stop watching all those ABC- Family programs. They were messing with her head.
The girl studied the actions between the two boys and tried not to gap at the fact that Hummel stuttered at his friend's words.
The boy was indeed shorter than both her and Kurt, but the latter was taller than her even while she was wearing heels so there was no right to judge. His facial features seemed to be a mix of what Miki had heard several people call 'Eurasian''; it probably meant he had some kind of Asian great-grandfather, maybe the reverse. His hair seemed to be curly but kept under control by what she guessed as gallon upon gallon of mousse. She wondered if touching it would be like running her hand over a bowl of dried oatmeal. It seemed lumpy but oddly smooth.
“Blaine Anderson.” His hand slithered off the other boy's shoulder to reach for her hand. She balanced her black purse in her other hand so as to momentarily shake the offered hand. “Sorry for butting in."
They kept talking a bit, laughing slightly. Hummel defied the laws of nature by actually being able to move those dark curls on Anderson's head more than an inch. They seemed comfortable around each other but there was tension. It was there, in the small amount of distance between their bodies. It hung around them like an invisible cobra constricting them. The movements of such tension kept them standing a little two close, arms apart by centimeters while they're bodies faced away from each other.
Together, but not together.
And while Miki felt that digging around in another person's business seemed devious, her seventeen year old teenage mind couldn't fathom another logical reason not to fish a little.
"The only conditions are the following: One, you tell me when and where with at least three days notice. Two, you play a trick on me and I will find the way to dye your clothes the tackiest shade of pink
imaginable." Miki's face broke into a smile as she held the jacket by the shoulders, her perfectly manicured and onyx nails standing out against the dark fabric.
"Also, you can bring your boyfriend, James Marsden here, for the shoot if you want. I've done a lot of couple shots."
In fact, while the question had be posed as a form of 'busy-bodying', she was already formulating ways to used both boys for a very, very good set of photos.
"You two are dating, right?"
Sometimes the ability of words to heighten the awkwardness of a situation was terrible. Sometimes it was simply interesting.
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Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Jul 20, 2011 9:23:06 GMT -6
That blush was honestly adorable. Blaine stifled a laugh, knowing it probably wouldn’t be appreciated. He smiled faintly instead, smile faltering just a bit, eyes widening ever-so-slightly as the other boy, for some reason, stared directly at him for the first time that day. It was funny how he found himself counting little “firsts” like that when they were together—every first time that Kurt held his gaze for longer than a second, every first time he toyed with his hair, every first time his eyes softened in a smile. Needless to say, he wasn’t really listening to the stammered explanation of how the younger boy had come to be wearing his sweater.
“Kurt.” He bounced onto the balls of his feet for a moment and inclined his head slightly so that his mouth was close to the other boy’s ear. “You know I was joking, right? Relax.” The soothing murmur, suspended in the mere seconds before he dropped back into place, held gentle amusement and a hint of concern. Precious as Kurt was when he was flustered, Blaine did feel a little guilty for making him lose his cool like that, especially since it was such a rare occurrence. Perhaps…No. An experimental regimen of fine-tuning until he could provoke a faint flush without making Kurt too uncomfortable was out of the question. First, it would be very ungentlemanly and second…Kurt was far too sharp not to catch on.
He was rescued from the twinge of remorse as Kurt rallied his usual razor-sharp wit. (Why did every day they spent hanging out usually include some sort of deep-seated protective impulse on his part, followed by the fond recollection that the younger boy needed very little protecting?) He stuck his tongue out, pouting slightly. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he informed the girl in his best professional voice. “He should know that I’d really prefer to go look at puppies.”
He made a noise of indignation and attempted to duck out of the way as Kurt reached over to muss his hair but only partly succeeded, wincing a little as he felt the other boy’s hand brush the top of his head. Kurt of all people should know that gelled hair was an absolute disaster when mussed. Not that his hair wasn’t an absolute disaster already; he’d barely spent any time getting ready after dragging himself out of bed, and next to two of McKinley High School’s resident fashion plates, he felt woefully underdressed.
…That had to be Kurt rubbing off on him. He was never usually so self-conscious about…well, every potentially unattractive aspect of his appearance. Beyond his (admittedly rather obsessive) habit of teasing his hair into submission every morning—before someone stared at it, made comparisons to various farm animals, or asserted what they believed to be their God-given right to reach out and touch it without asking—he never put much thought into the way he looked. That was the reason he didn’t mind the uniform. No matter how much Kurt might have griped about the stifling lack of creativity, they were just clothes to put on in the morning—nice, upscale, unobtrusive clothes that made him feel nice, upscale, and unobtrusive himself.
He reached out and flicked a strand of Kurt’s meticulously tended hair upward, away from his forehead, running his fingers along it for a split second to make sure it didn’t fall back into place. He raised his eyebrows at the other boy as if to say, “See how you like it. So there,” but the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he couldn’t hide a grin.
He caught the word 'boyfriend' and half-opened his mouth to insist that their relationship wasn’t like that—perhaps just a little too quietly, a little too self-consciously, (a little too bitterly?)—and had to remind himself that the girl had probably meant it sardonically. There was no reason to assume—
"You two are dating, right?"
Oh. So she had been serious. There was an immediate burst of heat somewhere beneath his cheekbones; it spread across his face and trickled down the back of his neck. He reached up and rubbed at it, thumb toying anxiously with the collar of his t-shirt.
“Ah…No. We’re not…dating,” he managed in a level, tensely polite tone, hoping neither of the others caught the tremor at the beginning of the word ‘dating’. “Kurt used to go to Dalton with me. We were in the glee club together.”
It was always so awkward when people made that assumption. It wasn’t as though the two of them ever engaged in behavior outside the conceivable realms of a healthy platonic friendship. Maybe it was the rapt, attentive way he found himself staring at Kurt whenever he opened his mouth…or so some of the guys at Dalton had told him, with knowing (but not unkind) smirks. Blaine hadn’t been aware that he looked at Kurt any differently. He always listened intently to his friends. It had to be something else.
For some reason, he thought of the way he’d gripped the other boy’s hand tightly through the last twenty minutes of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, then apologized profusely during the credits, opting to linger partly because he loved the theme music and partly because the darkness ensured that no one could peer too closely at his face.
He did that sort of thing every so often. It was nice to reach out and find someone Kurt who didn’t squirm and shift away because of the whole ‘gay’ thing. That had been much, much harder to face than the overt bullying when he’d first come out. Even now, he didn’t want to make any of his straight friends uncomfortable, or give them the wrong impression, no matter how accepting they had been...Now it sounded like it didn’t matter if he gave Kurt the wrong impression, or like Kurt just happened to be there and he was needy and desperate, and that wasn’t what he meant at all—because really, he was more inclined to reach for Kurt than any of his other friends, and whatever that was, it was completely genuine.
It might have been a subconscious attempt to hold on, to say “Stay. Wait for me while I figure myself out. Please.” Okay, that was a stretch. He’d read too many online psychology journals, or maybe spent too many hours staring at his summer assignments, willing his brain to produce character analyses that Dalton’s notoriously difficult AP Literature and Comp teacher would accept.
He shoved both hands into his pockets and turned a ragged exhale into a small, amiable laugh. He had absolutely no right to sulk. Kurt would need far more cheering up than he did, if the look on his face as he had accepted the deal was any indication.
[/color] (Word Count) 1,143 [/li][li][/color] (Notes) Oh, Blaine. Dang. I have ten minutes until I have to leave and am totally not dressed. Glad to be posting again, though![/li][/ul] |
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