Hey readers, this is Camille, the author of Crowned. This story is set in the summer between Season 1 and Season 2, before Dalton and Karoffsky and such. Let me know what you think and enjoy!
Chapter 1: Miss Midwestern 2010
"Are you sure you've got everything?"
Kurt looked up at his pajama-clad father with a smirk on his face. "Dad, I'm a professional."
"I know, I know, it's just…" The sentence trailed off and a flash of concern played over Burt's aging face. He wiped his large palms on his blue gray flannel pants he'd worn to bed ever since Kurt could remember. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I can go if you need me to, I can-"
"Dad." Kurt interrupted his father's moment of anxiety. To others, Burt Hummel seemed stone-faced and collected, but when it came to his son, he could have his moments of weakness. "It's a big day for you and Carol. Two months! And I'd probably get nervous if you were around anyway."
Both men knew that was a huge lie. Kurt didn't get nervous; it just wasn't in his nature. But it reassured Burt enough for him to drop the subject. Instead, he extended his arms and pulled Kurt into a big hug. Burt closed his eyes and whispered, "Drive careful. Be safe."
"I will." Kurt said as he pulled away. The sixteen year old picked up his messenger bag filled with essentials and kissed his dad on the cheek. "Love you."
"Love you too." Burt remarked as they moved to the front door. Burt opened it and watched his son walk to his big black SUV. He smiled before calling out, "Kick some ass out there kid!"
"Thanks Dad. I'll call you later!" Kurt called back to his dad and shook his head, laughing to himself. He put the messenger bag on the black leather passenger seat before walking to the driver's side. He opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat, programming the GPS for the Cleveland Convention Center. He waved to his dad as the GPS informed him the drive would be three hours. With his seat belt buckled, his side view mirrors adjusted, and the stereo blasting 'Fergalicious', Kurt Hummel set off for the fiftieth annual Miss Midwestern Pageant.
The Miss Midwestern Pageant was a pageant with age groups ranging from one to eighteen years old. Miss Midwestern, like most pageants, was all-girls up until eight years ago when an ambitious eight-year old boy with stunning blue eyes, a killer strut, and a knockout talent-his voice-took the crown. Ever since, Kurt Hummel dominated the Miss Midwestern pageant, with seven title crowns and sashes displayed proudly in his bedroom. Over the years a couple more boys joined the pageant circuit, but Kurt continued to rule the competition. Kurt glanced in his rearview mirror to check on his outfits and suitcases resting in the back of the SUV. This year would be his eighth consecutive win and would be a Miss Midwestern most wins record. Maybe then they'd change the pageant to a more unisexual name, he thought to himself. He enjoyed winning the titles, but it was kind of lame that all his sashes read Miss Midwestern. He was thinking 'Kurt Hummel's Fabulous Pageant of Fabulosity', or something along those lines.
After much pondering and driver's seat karaoke, the convention center came into view. He flashed his contestant parking pass to the parking attendant, who pointed him in the direction of the entrance. He knew the deal like the back of his hand. He would enter the lobby and Miss Geneva would check him in and give him his number. He'd check into his hotel room an drop off the outfits he'd wear tomorrow, then return to the showroom with his supplies for tonight's walk through.
But from the moment the car door opened and his Gucci boot hit the ground, he could sense something different. He pulled his luggage and wardrobe changes out of his car and retrieved the messenger bag from the passenger seat. Regardless of the shift in energy, Kurt walked confidently through the entrance doors and was greeted with gasps and scattered cheers. He smiled and waved at the little girls he passed on the way to check in.
"Kurt!" A woman from across the room screamed. She came from behind a table and ran through the crowded lobby.
Kurt hung his clothes over his suitcase and pulled her into his arms. "Geneva! Oh my God, how've you been?"
"Great, great." She pushed the blonde hair out of her eyes as he let her go. She looked passed him. "Where's your papa?"
"He's at home. He's got a big date tonight, so I told him to relax, stay home." Kurt shrugged.
"A date? No way!" Kurt nodded at her unbridled enthusiasm. She had been the pageant director for ten years running, and had witnessed both Kurt and his father grow before her eyes. She, however, had not changed at all. She was the same five-foot one hundred pound spectacle of a pageant girl she'd been as long as Kurt had known her. She called someone over, a man who worked for the hotel. She pointed at Kurt's stuff and instructed, "Take these up to Room 340, please? Thank you."
The man grabbed his clothes and suitcases and Kurt winced. "Be careful with those please."
He turned back to Geneva who was holding out a paper with his designated age group and when he'd be going within the group. Sixteens age group, fourth in order. "Did you check in for me?"
"Yep. And I got us rooms next to each other!" She exclaimed. "I hope you don't mind, I thought Burt would be here, so you have two beds."
"That's fine." He said, hiking up his messenger bag and taking a moment to inhale the beautiful smell of glitter and hairspray. It was these little things that made the pageant scene awesome. His voice dropped to a whisper. "How's the competition this year?"
She pushed his shoulder. "You know I can't tell you that. Why don't you go talk to them yourself?"
She nodded towards the room with a pink piece of paper stating 'Sixteens' taped to the door. He wrinkled his nose. He'd almost forget his least favorite part of this pageant, the pre-competition meet and greet hour. It was supposed to ease the tension between the contestants and make the environment more 'everybody wins' as opposed to 'I will cut a bitch to win this'. Although usually, it didn't help. Geneva linked arms with him and lead him over to the room. "Besides they're all waiting, Mr. Fashionably Late."
Kurt smirked at her, but the corners of his mouth started to slip as she reached for the door. The doors opened to reveal eyes that fell on him filled with anxiety, confusion, and respect, and he remembered just who he was. His chin seemed to float up as Geneva clapped her well-manicured hands. "And our final contestant from the sixteen year old category is here. Parents if I could ask you to leave the room with me, it's time for our pageanteers to bond."
The other contestants' parents filed out and Geneva gave a final wave, closing the door with a curt 'play nice'!
Kurt looked at the seven other people he was trapped in this room with. They were sitting in a circle with an open white chair reading 'Kurt Hummel' on the seat. As he made his way to his chair, the only sound Kurt could hear was the echo of his boots on the tile floor. He sat down in the plastic chair and looked at the eyes staring back at him. He gave them a classic Kurt look, double edged smile with sharp eyes, making them all avert their eyes slightly. All of them, except one. Kurt sighed and spoke with false enthusiasm. "I'm Kurt Hummel, from Lima, Ohio. Now someone else go."
The only pair of eyes daring to look defiantly back at Kurt's was dazzling from across the circle as their owner spoke. "My name is Blaine Anderson from Westerville, Ohio. It's nice to meet you all."
Kurt did a double take to examine the boy who spoke after him. He was wearing black skinny jeans, just skinny enough, and a slim fit white shirt, just slim enough. On top of his head, pink sunglasses sat atop slicked back black hair. His face was sweet, his eyes smoldering, and his smile was…his smile was something else. If Kurt wasn't so sure of himself he'd say this new Blaine kid could stand a chance against him. But alas, Kurt knew there was no chance in hell he was letting some random guy upstage him. Even if that random guy was really really gorgeous. Kurt refocused his attention so he could hear the names of the rest of the contestants. There was one other boy, Michael Trip, and five girls, all five of them he recognized from past years, each one more beatable than the last. Kurt smiled to himself. Looks like his only competition, if you could even call it that, was Mr. Blaine Anderson.
"Kurt? Kurt!" He was interrupted from his inner scheming to see Blaine standing in front of him. From where Kurt was sitting, he could only think about how compromising it was to be sitting eye-level to this boy's groin. He sprang to his feet and Blaine laughed at him. "Um, I was wondering if I could have a moment, considering we're all supposed to become friends and what not."
Kurt looked at the other teens, who were either chatting with the person next to them or tapping on their phones. He decided there was no harm in entertaining this boy with a conversation. Blaine retrieved his chair, placed it in front of Kurt's and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and placing his clasped hands on top of his knees. Kurt noticed it was exactly how he was sitting, so he smoothly straightened his legs and crossed his ankles, Princess Diaries-style, all while asking, "So anything in particular on your mind?"
"No, nothing in particular, I've just heard that you're quite the expert." Blaine had a constant smile on his lips as he spoke and his eyebrows…there was his flaw, Kurt decided. How could anyone win a title with eyebrows that large? Not that they weren't adorable. "I just thought you were probably the most interesting person in the room, and we've got forty minutes until we're released. If you don't want to talk with me I could go socialize with them I guess."
The two boys looked at the rest of their age group who were now huddled around someone's iPhone watching Jackass. Kurt shuddered, "No, I wouldn't subject you to that kind of torture, even if you are the enemy."
"The enemy?" Blaine raised an eyebrow
"Well you're obviously the only one to watch in this room." Kurt shrugged passively.
Blaine looked across the room then back to Kurt. "Obviously, you don't see me as that big of a threat."
"And what makes you say that?" Kurt asked.
"Because if you were really worried I could beat you, you wouldn't have said anything to me." Blaine remarked, and Kurt realized that was probably true. How could Blaine, who he'd met minutes ago, have guessed that? Blaine shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. I realize how good you think you are."
"Excuse me, how good I think I am?" Kurt interrupted. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Blaine, how many pageants have you won?"
"Three." He said proudly, seeming to puff out his chest. This made his pecs rather noticeable form under his shirt and that almost distracted Kurt from the matter at hand.
"Well, Blaine, I've won this pageant seven times, soon to be eight at the end of this weekend." Kurt said matter-of-factly. "Which is more than double what you've won. So if I were you, I wouldn't get too cocky."
Instead of getting intimidated like people usually did when Kurt snapped at them, Blaine continued smiling. "Okay."
"Okay?" Kurt looked at him incredulously.
Blaine nodded. "Okay. You think you're going to win. Good for you."
Kurt was getting flustered and the fact that someone he didn't even know was flustering him even angrier. "I know I'm going to win."
"Would you wager on that?" Blaine raised an eyebrow enticingly at him.
"'Wager'?" Kurt repeated.
"Loser buys the winner dinner." Blaine said. Blaine shifted in his seat and his knee came to touch Kurt's softly and he didn't bother moving it. A white hot streak of wanting shot through Kurt and he could feel himself flushing.
"W-why would I agree to that?" Kurt asked.
Before Blaine could answer, the door to the room opened and Geneva popped her head through. "Hey kids, we're going to the show room."
"Show room?" Kurt asked. He looked at his phone then up at her. "We still have half an hour."
"We're doing things a little…differently this year. Got some big announcements to make." Geneva winked, then gestured for them to come. "Now let's go, show room!"
The other kids in the room started to follow her out. Blaine stood up and extended a hand to Kurt. Kurt looked at it uneasily. He wasn't here to make friends. He was here to win. Blaine cocked his head. "Come on, let me help you."
Kurt rolled his eyes and offered his hand. Blaine grasped it fully with his and pulled Kurt up with surprising strength. Blaine smiled. "See, not a problem."
He started to walk towards the door, pulling Kurt behind him. Kurt was so shocked he didn't know what to do. No boy had ever held his hand before, not like this. He stopped walking, which caused Blaine to stop mid-stride. Blaine looked back at him and with all sincerity asked, "What's wrong?"
Kurt's eyes dropped to their connected hands. Blaine laughed and looked up at Kurt. "I apologize, did you want me to let go?"
Kurt was so confused all he could do was whisper, "Well we just met…"
Blaine promptly dropped Kurt's hand, returning his hands to his pockets. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries."
"It's okay, I guess." Kurt said, wondering what exactly was going on in this Blaine kid's head.
Blaine nodded toward the door. "We should probably head to the show room."
Kurt nodded and they walked out of the 'bonding' room. Blaine nudged Kurt with his elbow. "So how about that bet?"
Kurt thought it over and decided he wouldn't mind having this attractive guy buy him dinner. "It's a deal."
"Good." Blaine gave a final nod before they entered the show room. They located their designated seats in the front row.
Kurt nudged Blaine as the lights went down and asked, "So where will you be taking me to dinner?"