Title: Until We Meet Again
Characters: Cooper, Blaine, Sam, Wes (briefly), Matt (briefly)
Word Count: About 700
Summary: Nobody gets left behind, or forgotten. Especially not little brothers and sisters.
Author’s note: I decided to cure my post-Rocky Horror hangover with Disney movies and knitting, so I watched Lilo and Stitch.
And then I cried.
And then I wrote this.
(Title comes, most obviously, from Aloha ‘Oe.)
Even after all this time, “Aloha ‘Oe” catches him like a punch to the gut; when Nani reaches out to cradle her sister, he reaches out, too, finds Blaine’s hand reaching back for his. It’s not the same, really — his fingers are only a little longer than Blaine’s, their palms the same height, the same breadth, and there’s a dark scattering of hair below Blaine’s wrist that definitely was not there when he was Lilo’s age. But it is the same, because it’s Blaine, his Blaine, his baby brother, and the idea of the two of them being pulled apart still aches, just the way it did back during his very first Ohana night, the way it did the night he realized that they were being pulled apart, not by aliens or CIA agents, but by the distance between them and his own inability to see beyond his own ego.
(He wonders, sometimes, if Miss Holliday realizes what she’s given him. He thinks Wes knows; most days, he thinks Wes just kind of knows everything, but he’s not sure about Miss H.)
But it’s different now, anyway; he has Blaine here with him and they’re brothers again, they’re together, and he knows Blaine would never really trade him in for a rabbit. Which, maybe, is why he tears his eyes away from Blaine’s hand, clutched tightly in his, and looks over at Sam, slumped on the floor, trying to discreetly wipe stray tears away with his knuckles.
(I might actually tell them about this place, Sam had told him, about a week ago, while Cooper was helping him oil up — there’s always those places you can’t get, around the shoulderblades, and a lot of guys just ignore them, but Sam’s a perfectionist like Cooper, and the little details matter to him. Like, I tell them about my day job — construction, pizza delivery, garbageman, whatever. But like, I make it out like I’m a really well-paid garbageman, so they don’t worry about me sending money home. Because I can’t tell them about this, because then they’d… But I think they’d be cool with it, with me being here. ‘Cause it’s classier, you know? Than other places. It’s, like… I don’t think they’d feel bad about it, that Stevie’s sneakers come from a place like this. Or whatever.)
Cooper glances at the clock; it’s still early, only six o’clock. If Kentucky’s in the same time zone as Ohio, which he’s pretty sure it is, that’d make it nine back there. Early enough that Stacy and Stevie will still be awake, he thinks.
Either way, he pushes pause on the remote right as the two white flowers float out of sight, and ignores the groans from everyone else in the room. “Sam,” he says, quietly, and Sam looks at him, guilty and caught. “Go call home. We’ll wait.”
Blaine squeezes his hand tighter.
“It’s fine,” Sam says, and shakes his head so that his hair falls into his face. “It’s fine, I don’t need —”
“Really, Sam, it’s okay,” Blaine insists, turning his big dark eyes on Sam, and Sam has to look quickly at the floor. “I’m sure they’d… I’m sure they’d really like that. To hear from you.”
“I —” And Sam looks at Blaine, and then at Cooper, and then at their joined hands, and Cooper can actually see the moment when he caves. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll just be in the kitchen. You can go on without me.”
“But I thought Ohana night means no one gets left behind,” Matt murmurs, quiet enough that Sam doesn’t seem to hear him, although Cooper shakes his head and Wes gives him a look.
But then, Sam’s obviously got other things on his mind as he slips into the kitchen, phone already in his hand. Important things.
Blaine curls into Cooper’s side, resting his head on Cooper’s shoulder, and squeezes his hand again.