Best Buds: Declaration

Author/pseudonym: Angelise

Fandom: Original Fic-Slash-M/M

Series: Best Buds

Where to go for the story: http://writingonthewall.slashcity.net/~angelise7/toc.htm

Angelise's Update List--for those who want first dibs on the *entire* story http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AngeliseUpdate

Rating: PG

Pairing: OCs--Trent and Blaine

Date: February 4, 2004

Archive: Yes to WWOMB

Disclaimer: The boys and their family members belong to me.

Summary: The boys get identical tattoos or so Trent thinks




Declaration

by

Angelise

Copyright May 2002


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Blaine leaned back against the hood of his father's jeep, his gaze turned inward, his thoughts focused on his best friend, Trent Anderson, the boy who had captured his heart so many years ago.

There wasn’t a moment when Blaine couldn’t remember being in love with Trent. They had started out as childhood friends, best buds. As the years progressed, Blaine began to have deeper feelings for Trent, feelings that not only confused him but caused his body to react in ways that left him breathless and shaking. No one else made him feel like Trent did. And the sheets on his bed bore the evidence of his desire and love for the younger teen.

This summer had been hard for Blaine… he had finally acknowledged not only the true nature of his sexuality to his parents but also his love for Trent. Following his confession, Blaine had spent many sleepless nights sprawled across the end of his parents’ bed, pouring out his heart, expressing his fears, revealing his feelings, asking questions. It was a rough time for all but eventually Blaine felt secure about himself, about his sexual orientation and about his feelings for Trent. And yet… even though he was bravely traveling the path he had set his feet upon, he wasn’t quite sure how he would deal with his friend’s rejection if, for some reason, Trent could not accept his best friend being gay and in love with him.

A large hand tangling in his chestnut hair startled the 16-year-old from his thoughts.

"Any sign of Trent?" Sean asked.

Blaine glanced up at his father. "He called to say he'd be here in a few minutes. He's waiting for his dad."

"Can I see the design again?"

The teenager dug out his wallet and handed over a small folded piece of paper. Sean examined the image his son had drawn for the tattoo he and his friend was about to get.

Handing it back, Sean asked, "Are you still planning to…. ?"

Blaine interrupted his father, a challenging light in his blue eyes. "Yes, I am. Is there a problem? I thought you and mom were cool about this, okay with my feelings for Trent."

Sean smiled and wrestled his son into a hug. "You know there's no problem. Not with me, not with your mom. I just want to make certain you understand what you're declaring here."

"I know what I feel, Dad. And I don't think that's going to change anytime soon." Blaine looked down the tree-laden street, searching for the face that invaded his dreams every night.

Sean brushed back his son's shoulder length hair. "Okay, Blaine. If you're sure about this, then me and your mom are behind you 100%."

The youth pushed away from the jeep, a smile brightening his usually somber face. "Here comes Trent."

Sean found his arm caught in his son’s grip before he turned away.

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate . . . everything."

"Everything, including my footing the bill for this endeavor."

Blaine punched his father in the arm. "Of course!"

As Trent approached, Sean asked one more question. "Have you thought about the pièce de résistant?"

Blaine turned and reached out a hand, his fingers touching the nipple piercings visible through his father's t-shirt. "Not quite sure I'm ready for that . . . at least not yet."

Sean stuck his chest out. "The girls love 'em. Just ask your mom."

As his friend, Trent, tackled him from behind, Blaine winked at his father. "I don't think I'm worried about impressing the girls."

Returning his attention to his best friend, Blaine hugged the 15-year-old, taking a rare moment to bury his face in Trent’s soft curls and fill his lungs with the boy’s scent. Quickly letting go, he stood back and shook hands with Trent's father. "Thanks for giving Trent permission to do this with me."

Devin grinned at the tall youth. "It was either that or listen to him grumble for the rest of the summer." The man tugged on his son's curly blonde hair.

Trent laughed, his green eyes sparkling. "Hey! I'm just following in your footsteps. Like father, like son." He pushed up the left sleeve of his father's jersey and displayed the man's bicep and the tattoo of a rearing stallion upon it. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, cool." Blaine tugged on Trent's t-shirt impatiently. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Ready when you are, Budman." Trent took his seat beside Blaine in the back of the jeep and started flexing his arms. "Once I start working out, I'm gonna have some major muscles. Maybe I'll put my tattoo on my bicep like my dad."

Blaine laughed and pulled his shirt up, exposing his well-defined chest and abs. "Well Shrimp, since I already have muscles, I'm putting mine on my left pec."

The older teen felt a familiar warmth settle in his groin when Trent innocently brushed his fingers over his left nipple. Blaine sucked in air as the dark circle of flesh instantly hardened. Afraid his friend had witnessed his body’s helpless response, he jerked his shirt back in place, covering not only his chest but the answering bulge in his crotch area.

Hoarsely, the youth called out to his father. "Dad?"

Sean quickly picked up on the stress in his son's voice and took his place behind the wheel. Starting the engine, he inquired, "Everybody ready?"

A duet sang out. "YEAH!"

+++++++

Blaine stood naked in front of his mirror, admiring the tattoo that graced the left side of his chest. The area was sore but it was nothing compared to the discomfort in his right hand. The 16-year-old smiled as he remembered how Trent had nearly crushed his fingers with his grip.

His friend had elected to go first and, of course, declined the need to have someone go in with him. Blaine was a little upset about being left behind but it wasn't five minutes later when the tattoo artist came back into the waiting room and motioned for the teenager to follow him.

Blaine was ushered inside, his gaze instantly captured by the frightened look in Trent's eyes. He walked over to his friend and did his best to avoid looking at the younger boy's naked chest. His body had already been tempted once that day and Blaine wasn’t sure how much more he could take before losing control, both physically and emotionally.

"Hey buddy!"

"Blaine!"

The older teen winced slightly when his friend claimed his hand in a white-knuckle grip. Trent immediately pulled their clasped hands to his chest. The touch of bare skin, Trent's bare skin, was enough to make Blaine lose his breath. It took him several seconds to redirect his brain from lust to logic, his befuddled gray matter finally latching on to Trent's nervous stammer.

"… your design. Just thought … OW! Just thought you'd want to watch… dammit that hurts! Want to watch to make sure he gets it right."

Blaine took his free hand and tugged playfully on the blonde's curls. Leaning down, he whispered in his friend's ear. "It's okay, Trent."

Straightening up, Blaine nodded to the man beside Trent. "Mr. Samuels is the best. And he's the one who helped me create the design."

A grateful smile was offered up, the anxious light in Trent's eyes diminishing slightly. "Thanks, Budman. You're the best."

Blaine open his mouth, ready with a comeback but the words completely disappeared from his mind the instant Trent moved their joined hands downward, allowing them to rest on his abdomen, their position precariously close to the waistband of Trent’s blue jeans. The 16-year-old tore into his bottom lip with his teeth in an attempt to distract his traitorous body from responding to the crazy, totally unattainable images crowding his mind. With a barely audible whimper, Blaine moved to the head of the table, shielding his lower torso from Trent.

Not that the younger teen would have noticed; his attention was totally concentrated on the design taking shape on his arm. And yet even though his focus was off Blaine, his grip on the boy's hand never relaxed.

After several moments, Trent turned his green eyes toward Blaine. "How’s it look?"

Before answering, the 16-year-old’s gaze skimmed over his friend’s physique. "Looks good. Damn good."

Reaching back, Trent slapped Blaine on the stomach and grinned mischievously at the older boy. "The tattoo, Blaine. I’m asking about the tattoo."

A telling blush stained Blaine’s face and he dropped his eyes in shame. His friend had caught him staring at his body. He stumbled backwards in an attempt to escape. Unfortunately his hand was still tightly encased in Trent’s grip. The teenager froze in place, unable to utter a word of protest, of explanation. He just stood silently, his gaze focused on his tennis shoes. A gentle tug on his hand brought him back to his friend’s side.

Trent smiled at his petrified buddy and without a word, simply returned their clasped hands to their original resting place on his chest. He took a moment to catalogue the emotions racing across Blaine’s face. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned his attention back to his tattoo.

"Looks awesome, Blaine. The other guys are gonna be so jealous."

Finally remembering to breathe, the older teenager took hold of his heart and rejoined the living. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Blaine acknowledged the slight tightening of Trent’s grip on his hand. Reciprocating the unspoken show of understanding, the silent teen offered up a small smile.

An hour later, following a heated discussion about their favorite footballs teams, Blaine looked over to find Mr. Samuels finishing his work on Trent’s arm. He reached out and traced a finger around the skin that bordered the design.

"Does it hurt?"

Trent jumped up from the table and moved to a nearby mirror. He looked at his arm from several angles before turning back to his friend, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"Stings a little but it’s nothing I can’t handle."

The slender blonde pulled Blaine over to him. "Looks good, don’t it?"

Blaine laughed as his friend struck several macho poses. He cuffed Trent on the head. "I’m sure all the girls will be slobbering over it." The older teen felt a tap on his shoulder; it was now his turn at the hands of the tattoo artist. With one last glance at Trent, he moved away and started to strip off his shirt.

Trent stared in the mirror at his arm and whispered quietly to himself. "What if it’s not a girl I want all over me?"

A shout from his friend distracted his thoughts.

"Hey! Admiration society of one! Come over here and hold my hand . . . I mean, keep your eye on Mr. Samuels."

Blaine laughed at the slight blush that crept over Trent’s cheeks. He held out his hand and smiled at his best friend. "Same here, buddy. Wanna come help me out?"

Trent stumbled slightly as he moved to stand beside Blaine. He slowly slid his fingers down Blaine’s muscular arm and gripped his hand. "I’m here for you, Blaine. Always."

+++++++

A tingling pain in his fingers distracted Blaine from his memories. The teen looked down and found he was stroking his dick to hardness. Lifting his eyes to the mirror in front of him, Blaine stared at the dragon tattoo on his left pectoral. His friend, Trent, wore the same design on his upper left arm.

The same tattoo… except his dragon tattoo carried a shield and within the shield’s intricate design were the initials, TA. Trent Anderson.

The teenager fisted his erection faster as his tear damp eyes traced over the blatant declaration of his feelings for his young friend. The moment his body climaxed, Blaine whispered,

"I love ya, budman. Love ya."



To be continued...

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