disclaimer: without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

author's notes: this is an AU where Blaine goes to McKinley and he's the one Karofsky is targeting. Kurt might not even exist in this one. inspired by another gifset on Tumblr (by spuffina). special thanks to my best friend and beta Inwenalas.

Stripped;;

When he pulls into the McKinley High parking lot he's surprised Blaine isn't already there. Every time he'd picked Blaine up this past week he'd been waiting for him outside, eager to get away from a school where he was feeling less and less welcome.

There's the sound of thunder in the distance so he thinks that maybe Blaine just didn't want to get caught in the rain.

He waits for a good ten minutes before texting Blaine (parked outside. you coming?) but when another ten minutes pass without an answer or without Blaine emerging from the front entrance (and it really has started raining) he sets out in search of him.

The choir room is empty, as is the auditorium, so he checks the locker room instead. Unfortunately the only person he finds is Dave Karofsky.

"If you're looking for your hobbit boyfriend, you won't find him here," Karofsky says, his eyes drawing up and down his body before deciding on his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asks.

"Last I saw of him he was storming out of here crying his little eyes out."

He feels his heart drop to his stomach. "What did you do?"

He'd told Blaine to steer clear of Karofsky—the school had made it clear that Karofsky would have to leave a mark on Blaine before they could take action. Sebastian had taken it personally, because it was plain for everyone to see that Blaine was terrified, but even his state-attorney father hadn't been able to help.

"Gave him something to cry about, didn't I?" Karofsky says, going for the offense immediately. "What's it to you, princess?"

Sebastian takes a step closer. "I swear to God, Karofsky, if you've hurt him—"

"What are you gonna do?" Karofsky asks and fists Sebastian's blazer, pushing him back hard. He's strong, Sebastian realizes, much stronger than him. No wonder Blaine's intimidated by this guy. God only knows what he did to Blaine.

He doesn't push back.

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

He turns and walks out of the room, runs to his car in the rain. He dials Blaine's number but after several rings all he gets is voicemail. "Damn it, Blaine," he curses, suddenly picturing Blaine bleeding in a ditch somewhere, crying, all alone and not even his parents to turn to. Why can't he just pick up his phone?

.

He's been to the Anderson house before; Blaine had invited him for movie nights and he'd dropped him off a few times after they hung out. Right now the entire house is dark and he feels the same despair clutching around his chest. What happened between Blaine and Karofsky? Why isn't he home?

But no sooner has the thought occurred or he sees lights go on somewhere in the back of the house. He's out of the car within seconds, stalking up to the front door in the pouring rain and rings the doorbell.

The moments that pass are excruciating.

"Blaine, I know you're there," he calls out, his whole frame shaking and he can't tell if it's from the cold rain seeping into his clothes or plain damn worry. "I saw the lights go on."

"I—" comes the first tentative sound from behind the door. "I'd rather just be alone right now, Sebastian," Blaine says, voice audibly shaking. "Why don't you—call me or text me?"

"I have," he says forcefully. "You didn't answer either."

Silence.

"I drove all this way in the pouring rain, Anderson, there's no way I'm just going to leave." The palms of his hands are resting against the door now, pushing, maybe sheer force of will can open it. "Open the door," he says.

"I'm really sick," Blaine whines. "I might be contagious."

"Blaine, please," he begs. "I'm soaking wet and my shoes are ruined. Let me in before I catch something."

"Just—Okay," Blaine adds in a rush, and Sebastian finally hears the lock snap, doorknob turning, the lights in the hallway going on. The door only opens halfway but it's enough for him to slip inside.

"See, was that so hard?" he asks, but when Blaine faces away from him immediately he realizes none of his worries have subsided. There's a reason Blaine didn't answer his phone, why he wants to be alone. "Blaine," he says, but Blaine doesn't move a muscle. "Blaine, look at me."

The time it takes Blaine to turn his head has his heart racing; he'd imagined so many scenarios, Blaine bleeding, Blaine broken, Blaine—something so much worse, but it's all the same kind of bad and it makes him so angry that this time it's definitely not the cold making him shiver.

Blaine's jawline has turned black and blue on one side of his face, presumably from where Karofsky's fist connected with his face.

"What the fuck?" he blurts out, but when he sees Blaine cringe where he stands he knows he has to dial it down. Blaine's seen enough anger for one day—his won't do him any good. "I'm sorry," he says. "What happened?

"Karofsky—" Blaine shrugs and bows his head. He'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't break his heart. He hates how badly he wants to reach out, take Blaine into his arms and whisper small nonsense in his ear to make him feel better—it's not him, he's Sebastian Smythe, but Blaine makes him want to be someone better.

"Look at you, you're soaking wet," Blaine says.

He looks down at himself; his pants are fairly intact, but his blazer and the shirt underneath are sticking to his skin. His feet are ice-cold. "Because some jackass left me out in the rain five minutes straight," he jokes.

Blaine smiles. Sebastian hates how Blaine seems to think he has to hide from him, put up a strong front.

"Let's get you out of those clothes."

The only reason he doesn't add one of his usual quips—well, he doesn't really know. He just feels it has no place between them now.

.

By the time he gets out of the shower he's warmed up and most of the anger has left his body. He's grateful it has because he hates when Blaine gets that small, retreating behind hardened walls that have been constructed over years of being bullied, just because he's not afraid to be who he really is.

He got the feeling he was helping Blaine, that somehow being his friend—his only openly gay friend—would show him there's people in this world that actually do care, that won't always treat him unjustly. Karofsky's always deftly managed to prove him wrong.

Sebastian's always been lucky. Years of private schools, a powerful father and an often unhealthy dose of self-confidence had helped along the way, but mostly he'd just been lucky never to have known people like Dave Karofsky.

He looks at himself in the mirror; he's not sure he's any better—he's told off his fair share of guys in hateful ways. But he's never been a bully.

He's still buttoning up his pants when he walks into Blaine's bedroom.

"Your clothes are in the dry—" Blaine starts, but when he turns around his breath seemingly hitches in his throat. Sebastian looks up only to stare into Blaine's big eyes, entirely focused on his naked torso. "The, uhm," Blaine clears his throat, "the dryer."

He tries to contain a grin. "Thanks."

Blaine points towards the bed. "I, uhm, got you one of my dad's old college jerseys."

And then complete silence sets in. He walks over to the bed and pulls the jersey over his head and feels the bed dip next to him. He looks at Blaine, but all he's doing is staring down at his hands—he wonders suddenly why he came here in the first place; he wanted to make sure Blaine was okay, but beyond that, what was the plan?

"Are we really not going to talk about this?" Sebastian asks.

"I thought you'd be angry."

"That you blatantly ignored all the advice I gave you?" he asks. Blaine's right, normally he would be, but all his anger got rightfully redirected towards Karofsky. He'd told Blaine to stay away; if the school wasn't going to do anything Blaine should just avoid Karofsky all he could. But that's not the Blaine Anderson he knows.

"I thought—" Blaine starts. "I thought if I could just talk to him that—" He sighs. "I don't know."

Sebastian looks at him sideways. "This is not your fault."

Blaine looks at him, holds his stare for a moment, but looks away. "Maybe I should take up boxing lessons or something." He shakes his head, retreating again, taking on a guise for the rest of the world, pretending. "Join a fight club."

He's sure it's his silence that makes Blaine look at him again, brown eyes dark but bruised. At the back of his mind he's thinking just how hot it would be to see Blaine in sweats and a sleeveless, to see him going at a punching back, working out all his anger, sweat curling his hair—but again the quips feel out of place.

"You shouldn't have to," Sebastian says instead, voice almost a whisper.

The air thickens and it's weird. He's always seen Blaine as a friend, someone he could help out, but he's not blind either; Blaine's hot in a very obvious kind of way and Sebastian knows Blaine likes him. It was never his intention to let Blaine get so close, but he feels protective of him.

He's never seen himself as a mentor-type of guy, but just the fact that Blaine chose to see that in him—

He sees Blaine swallowing hard, his breathing deepening.

He's not used to this, being so acutely aware of how his knee is touching Blaine's and Blaine's shoulder brushes his—And then Blaine's eyes drop to his lips. God, he's beautiful, Sebastian catches himself thinking, but it's also what shakes him from his thoughts.

He tears his eyes away from Blaine's face. Not hot, but beautiful. He's never thought that about anyone before.

"I should get going," he says and gets up from the bed in the same breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Could you—" Blaine starts asking behind him.

Right, he thinks, he's going to need his shoes, socks too preferably, and maybe his clothes will be dry by now.

But that's not what Blaine ends up asking. "Would you mind staying?"

He looks at Blaine, so impossibly tiny and incredibly vulnerable and he feels like the breath gets knocked out of him. "S-Sure," he says, shuffles, discomforted—he feels as if he's the one that's just been exposed, laid open bare in front of a boy that's already forced him to self-evaluate.

"Where—?" He looks around the room, but there's only a rather uncomfortable looking chair in one corner—he knows there was a red settee once, but that's been relocated to the living room.

Blaine gets up from the bed, and for a split second he thinks Blaine's going to lead him downstairs to the couch—but instead he walks to the head of the bed and pulls the covers back. Blaine crawls into the bed, over to the far side. And then he looks up at him, all puppy eyes.

Oh.

His mouth goes dry—he licks his lips and hesitates. Has Blaine really thought this through? Does he want him to stay with him tonight? He wants to, dear God does he want to be that person for Blaine, to be his comfort, to protect him, shield him away from all the ugly the world has in it. But he's not that person.

He doesn't say it though. He doesn't say no, or he doesn't run. He doesn't tell Blaine that this is probably the most terrifying thing he could ask, that he feels naked, stripped down.

No. He doesn't say it.

Instead he walks over to the bed as well, aware of every step he takes, lies down fully clothed next to Blaine, one arm behind his head—their eyes are locked together, their breathing labored, until Blaine breaks the contact to dip his head lower. He raises his other arm on automatic, as if it's something he's done a million times before.

Blaine lays his head down on his chest and Sebastian thinks he must hear how his heart is racing, how it's erratic in terrifyingly new ways. But if he does, Blaine doesn't say it.

Sebastian's hand settles around Blaine's back, his skin warm through his shirt.

Neither of them says another word.

.

It's new. He doesn't mind trying out new things, he likes challenging himself to do new things, but this—this is up-close and intimate and something entirely indescribable.

Blaine turns out to be an extremely steady sleeper and he hardly moves at all. Every now and then his head will stir, digging deeper into his chest, or his hand will clutch at his hip, almost as if Blaine's trying to make sure he's still there.

It sends a shiver of heat down his spine while deep inside a pit of uncertainty grows. Why did Blaine ask him? Why didn't he call his bestie Rachel to keep him company for the night?

But Sebastian knows it's very likely Blaine still hasn't told his friends about the whole Karofsky business. Still, why him? They've talked about their sexualities because that conversation was warranted given how they met that day Blaine came to 'spy' on the Warblers, and they've bonded over a shared interest in sports and movies.

They've never talked about feelings.

"S'bastian," Blaine mutters into his chest, hand clutches again, and Sebastian realizes he probably won't be getting a whole lot of sleep himself. But that's okay.

.

He wakes up early the next morning with Blaine still tugged snug against him, practically wrapped around his body. His neck's sore and his right arm's sleeping, but seeing Blaine still fast asleep sort of makes him not care.

It's still there though, the unsettling feeling that Blaine's expecting him to be someone he's not. He's not sure if Blaine sees the person he can be or the person he will never be. Either way he's a mess and he can't let Blaine cling to a hollow center.

He doesn't want to do it, but he pries Blaine's hand from his hip, attempts to slide right from under him, but Blaine makes it easy when he turns around in one fail swoop, snuggling the other pillow on the bed.

He feels cold suddenly, but gets up from the bed. He looks at Blaine on the bed, stretched out languid and peaceful. He did good, he thinks, being here for Blaine, holding him, keeping the nightmares at bay.

It's not hard to be that person for Blaine.

.

Text from Blaine: Please tell me you got some sleep last night.

Text to Blaine: Got enough.

Text from Blaine: Thanks, by the way. I didn't really want to be alone.

Text to Blaine: No problem, killer ;) finally got to see your curls.

Text from Blaine: oh God XD

.

Text from Blaine: Coffee later?

Text to Blaine: Can't. Warbler meeting.

.

Text from Blaine: Lunch?

Text to Blaine: Promised Jeff I'd help him revise.

.

Text from Blaine: Are you coming to see us take Sectionals?

.

Text from Blaine: Sebastian?

.

Text to Blaine:

Sebastian sighs; this shouldn't be so hard. He's dumped guys via text, why should turning down Blaine be this difficult? He knows why, of course, it's because he has actual feelings for Blaine, feelings he doesn't understand and doesn't know how to categorize, but just the fact that they're there—it's proof enough he should back off. Blaine deserves better than him.

Dear God, when did he become such a martyr?

He doesn't text Blaine.

.

Text from Blaine: I know you saw me at the Bean today. Why'd you leave without saying hi?

Text from Blaine: Sebastian…

Sebastian stares down at the small blinking cursor on his phone, but he can't will himself to type a response. His shin is throbbing from where one of his teammates had hit it hard with his lacrosse stick; it was his fault, he'd been inattentive for the past few practices.

He puts his phone down on the bench next to him.

"Please, stop this," a voice sounds from behind him, and his heart jumps realizing who it is. He gets up and turns around, Blaine in the Dalton locker room with him. Had Blaine seen him ignoring his texts?

"Stop what?" he asks.

"Stop avoiding me," Blaine says, and points at his phone. "Stop ignoring my texts. I—" His eyes are shining with tears. Fuck. "If you want to forget what happened then tell me that, but this—We're past this."

"Okay," Sebastian says. "Let's forget what happened."

Blaine's eyes go wide, bruised beyond compare now—Sebastian swallows hard, turns around and starts packing his stuff together. Looking at Blaine would only add to his torture, knowing he's the one hurting him now, but it will only be better for Blaine in the long run. He doesn't want to be bothering with someone as messed up as Sebastian Smythe.

"You came to me," Blaine says, voice straining around something heavy. "You begged me to let you in."

Sebastian sighs. He did beg. "I was worried," he says without turning around. "I heard what happened—I was just worried."

"I guess you shouldn't have bothered."

He cringes at the harshness of Blaine's tone; he doesn't like hearing that in Blaine's voice. But knows he deserves it. He takes a deep breath, gathers his courage and turns around to face Blaine again. "Guess not," he says, hoping Blaine can't quite distinguish between his tones of voice.

But maybe he can, because Blaine frowns. "You don't mean that," he says, voice thick with hurt. "That night—there was something between us."

"Yes," he says. "A mistake."

There's a moment's silence, Blaine looking at him and he's trying to keep it together without flinching. He's not sure he succeeds.

"Fine," Blaine says. "Have it your way." He shrugs. "Next time I'm in trouble I won't come to you for advice." Sebastian feels his heart getting trampled all over; Blaine knows just what to say to coax a reaction from him—he's not sure when exactly he gave Blaine that power. "Next time some guy threatens to kill me—"

"Don't," Sebastian interrupts in an instant, taking an unplanned step forward, the pain in his shin a dull ache compared to the emotions coursing through him now. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Blaine, I just can't—"

What can't he do? Love Blaine?

No.

He can't let Blaine love him.

"I can't—"

"Are you scared?"

"Yeah," he breathes, as if it's something obvious Blaine should've known already.

"Why?"

"I'm not that guy, Blaine!" he says. "I don't get close to people, not on that level." He goes into things blindly, recklessly, that's how Blaine managed to sneak up on him in the first place, but up until now it's always just been bodies. Bodies and a room and words, but nothing meaningful.

Where did Blaine ever get the idea there could be more with him?

It's a silly thought. He's the one that gave Blaine that idea in the first place.

"And that night—" He shakes his head, turns, hands at his waist.

"Sebastian—" the harshness has left Blaine's voice.

He turns again, eyes burrowing into Blaine's.

"All I did was hold you, watch you sleep." He sniggers, tries to push it away, hold it at arm's length. "And it was the best night of my life. So yeah," he nods, "I'm terrified."

"You don't have to be," Blaine says.

He casts down his eyes, stares down at his feet—he's never felt this bare before, this raw, exposed like a nerve. Anything Blaine does now will leave a permanent mark.

Blaine closes the distance between them, one hand reaching for him but undecided about where it wants to land. "Sebastian, you don't have to be," he says, not touching.

Sebastian huffs; when did his life become a real-life soap opera?

"Were you—Were you there with me?" Blaine asks, a tentative doubt in his voice. It makes Sebastian realize just how vulnerable Blaine allowed himself to become that night, asking him to stay knowing he'd be more likely to turn him down. It makes him realize how just how well Blaine reads him.

Sebastian nods softly. "I was," he answers. "God, Blaine, yeah, I was."

The world doesn't crumble around him. Sebastian Smythe is still standing.

He looks at Blaine—this time Blaine's hands reach up decisively, taking hold of his face and pulling him down. For a guy who claims he never kissed another guy Blaine seems to know what he's doing—his lips meet Blaine's and he feels Blaine's parting against him, tongue pushing past his teeth eagerly.

A familiar heat starts somewhere deep at the core of him; he draws a final step closer, pulling Blaine's body flush against his, hand cupping Blaine's cheek.

Blaine winces, breaking the kiss.

"Sorry." Sebastian only pulls back far enough to speak, running his thumb more gently over Blaine's jawline; it's bruised a deep purple now. "If that guy ever touches you again—" he says.

Blaine takes his hand and places it over his heart. He can feel Blaine's heart racing beneath the palm of his hand—his rages much the same.

"He won't," Blaine says. "I'm transferring to Dalton next week."

"That's—very interesting."

Blaine smiles up at him. "You're not worried about losing all your solos?"

"Cocky." Sebastian arches an eyebrow. "I like this."

if you can, please let me know what you think!