Title: Lightning Crashes
Author: AoiTsukikage
Rating: PG-13 at most
Characters/Pairing: Blaine/Sam
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: 1639
Spoilers: Let's say everything to be safe :)
Summary/Warnings: From a tumblr prompt: Blam in a power outage? They roam the city at night, learning about each other, falling for each other and ending with, er, each other? The power outage could even be some heavy metaphor for their lives being dark and when they, er, "find" each other that evening, the power can come back?

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own these characters, no matter how sad that makes me. I do, however, promise to return them when I'm done with them. :) Lightning Crashes

The air is close, thick with the promise of impending rain, and he stops the car in the middle of a residential street and turns the lights off, feeling the hair rise on the back of his arm. Rolling down the window, he smells the sharp metallic tang on the air that tells him without a doubt the storm's moving fast, lightning already having struck somewhere close.

He needs to get to Dalton.

Pulling the car back out onto the road he starts to drive, the steam from the hot pizza barely visible in the deep gloom of the car, and as he rounds the next corner a brilliant flash lights up the sky and there's a deafening crack not a half-second behind, far too close for comfort, and he blinks as fat raindrops hit the windshield, turning the old wipers on as the rain falls faster.

The next strike of lightning blinds him momentarily and he hits the brakes, the car's tires skidding on the rain-slick street, spinning around and coming to a stop just as the streetlights flicker out and he's bathed in darkness, the night silent around him.

Shaken, he leans his forehead against the steering wheel and waits, just him and the rain and the darkness, too scared to drive on the wet streets and too shaken to do much more than keep breathing.

The rain slows quickly, streaks of water running down the windshield and blurring his vision, and he huffs a shaky breath and turns the key in the ignition, hearing the engine turn over once before it sputters out completely.

Wonderful.

He resists the urge to curse and instead opens the door and steps out on the rain-soaked street, the air chilly with the passing storm as he pulls his coat tighter around him, taking the pizza on second thought and deciding that maybe he could walk. Dalton's close, he thinks, and he locks the car before heading off down the darkened street, cell phone out to provide what meagre light it could.

He hears the other person before he sees them, the slight muffled crunch of shoes on the water-soaked sidewalk, and he glances up and meets a hazel-eyed glance, the other boy in his shirtsleeves and Dalton tie, dishevelled and natural and looking like he's just come out of the rainstorm, somehow, the first breath of life on the desolate streets.

"Sam," his voice is loud in the stillness, a smile gracing his face in the blue-hued light of the phone, and Sam smiles in return.

"Blaine," he calls back, moving closer so he can see the mist clinging to the tips of Blaine's hair, curly in the damp, and Blaine reaches to brush invisible water off of his shoulder. "I've got your pizza."

"So I see," Blaine smiles wryly, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches to grip Sam's elbow. "How about we find somewhere to eat that?"

And Sam can't think of a reason why not, so they end up back at his car, Sam pulling a blanket out of the back and laying it on the roof as they both climb up, staring up at the cloud-spotted sky.

"Orion," Sam points suddenly, the clouds clearing enough that he can see the three stars of his belt.

"Mm, and Sirius," Blaine raises his hand beside Sam's pointing at the dog-star, and Sam laughs and leans back, snagging a piece of pizza. "I'll pay you for that."

"I expect you to," Sam agrees. "I'd let you have it for free but I don't think the shop would be very happy."

"Why are you out here, anyway? Car break down?"

"Yes," Sam nods in agreement, the two of them munching silently on the lukewarm pizza until they've consumed nearly all of it (Blaine's got a rather hearty appetite for such a little guy). "What a night."

"Mm," Blaine agrees absently, the air still close and humid, and he unbuttons his shirt a little before laying back down. "This is where we should be having the clichéd 'doesn't looking at the stars make you feel small?' conversation, isn't it?"

"Are we going to have it?" Sam asks, catching a glob of sauce before it can land on his uniform shirt, and Blaine turns to look at him and asks, very seriously:

"Doesn't looking at the stars make you feel small?"

"Dude," Sam laughs, licking his finger, before staring up at the sky and sighing. "No. It doesn't. It makes me feel like…like if you've got somebody to look at the stars with, you don't need to feel small. It's just kinda cool," he smiles at Blaine who looks away, sighing. "You?"

"When you put it that way saying 'yes' seems like the coward's way out," Blaine admits with a shrug. "But yes, I've always felt that…that when I look up there, nothing I do here will really matter in the long run, you know? Sure, I'm the lead singer of the Warblers and everything, but…what does that really mean?"

"The way I see it, as long as one person would miss you when you're gone, it's worth it to keep trying," Sam turns on his side, his phone on again so he can study Blaine's face, all sharp angles and deep shadows in the harsh light.

"That's an interesting way of thinking about it," Blaine finally concedes, undoing a few more buttons as the cold rush of air following the storm passes by and leaves the air muggy and heated again. Sam stares at the skin that's revealed, the thin covering of dark hair on Blaine's chest, and the muscles in his stomach rippling as he moves. He's surprisingly built for somebody so tiny and Sam tears his eyes away before Blaine can notice him looking. His tie is still hanging down, resting on the skin of his chest, and it's weirdly erotic.

"Regardless, I don't think deep, philosophical conversation over pizza is what either of us need right now. Want to go for a walk?"

"A walk?" Sam asks curiously.

"Sure. Why not? The night is ours," Blaine smiles, teeth flashing in the phone-light, and hops off of the car while Sam follows and the two start to walk down the street, the darkened houses only vague shadows in the background.

Sam's not sure how long they walk, the air still damp and electric, but they end up on a tiny hill overlooking the darkened city, flashes of lightning still splitting the sky far on the horizon, and Blaine's hand sneaks into his without him noticing but the other boy's palm is rough and warm and Sam squeezes back gratefully.

He doesn't know what it means, but sexuality has never been an issue for him.

And Blaine's attractive, undeniably so, and the fact that he possesses the same genitalia as Sam isn't a daunting thought at all.

In fact, the sight of Blaine splayed out wearing just that Dalton tie is immensely appealing and he swallows thickly, willing Blaine not to notice his sudden discomfort.

Blaine eventually pulls him down to the grass, dress shirt discarded entirely, and the ground is dewy and damp under his fingertips as he stares down at the other boy wearing only that tie on his upper body and his fingers curl around the red-and-black fabric without him noticing. Blaine looks debauched, hair still rain-soaked and sticking to his forehead in haphazard curls, his chest heaving as Sam pulls him up using the tie, not sure what he's doing but knowing that it doesn't feel odd.

Blaine's fingers come to roam across the nape of his neck, moving to push the blonde hair out of his eyes, and he leans up to whisper, "You're wearing altogether too many clothes."

"Should we fix that?" Sam straightens up, fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his delivery uniform, and he slides it off to leave him in only a sleeveless white undershirt as Blaine skims his hands under the tight fabric, fingers moving over his abs and up his chest as Sam lets out a shuddery sigh.

Nobody's ever touched him like this.

Not even Santana, if anybody will believe it, although that was more his own reluctance than hers. It had just…never felt right with her.
"Off," Blaine urges and Sam crosses his arms and grips the hem, pulling it over his head before Blaine's hands are on him again and pulling him down, rolling them over so Sam's back is on the dewy grass and Blaine's staring at him, hazel eyes bright in the moonlight. "Can I?"

"Please," Sam breathes, tipping his chin up, and Blaine leans down so slowly until their lips meet.

Blaine tastes like rain and lightning, cool and electric and a little dangerous, and Sam finds it intoxicating. The air practically crackles around them as the kiss deepens, Sam daring to touch Blaine in return, the other boy responsive and so alive under his searching fingers, and they break for air for a moment before they're kissing again, harder, Blaine shoving his tongue into the blonde's mouth as Sam sucks at it, gripping him tightly to his body.

A sudden flash breaks their moment, both of them looking to where the lights of Westerville are once again twinkling merrily down the hill, and Blaine laughs and moves, pants scraping the grass. "This is the point where I say something clichéd about the lights coming on, isn't it?" he whispers, tongue darting out to flick against Sam's lips, and Sam can't hold back his groan.

"No," he finally pants, fingers sliding below the waistband on Blaine's Dalton pants, and Blaine's mouth falls open in a soundless gasp as his fingers work lower. "No," he repeats, mouths almost touching. "This? This is the part where you kiss me again."

And that's what Blaine did.