AN: Written mid season 2 with LolaInk
The Bucket Glist
(Or Things to Do In Ohio Before You're Dead)
"Wes has apologised about fourteen times, Kurt. And he did shout fore." Blaine looked across at the boy, sitting crossed legged glaring at the library wall. "C'mon. Stop sulking."
Kurt huffed and inspected his nails. "I never wanted to go anyhow. I only went to model my new golf knickers. Which, by the way, are now coveredin grass stains."
Blaine gave a small chuckle and a wave of irritation ran through Kurt. "I don't think you're taking this seriously enough," he snapped.
"Kurt, it was a very nasty bump on the head, but—"
"I was in a coma!"
"You blacked out!"
"They're practically the same thing." Kurt crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "It's just like you to trivialise my problems." He sniffed haughtily; Blaine leaned over and gently squeezed his shoulder.
"I'm not trying to trivialise your problems, but don't you think you're overreacting a little?"
Kurt glared at him. Patronising bastard, who did he think he was, with his earnest eyebrows and tilted little gnome head?
"You turn your hair into Will I Am's spacehat every day and you're telling me I'm overreacting?"
Blaine continued to look at him with that same, condescending smile.
"Okay, fine. I'm may be overreacting just a tad."
"What's really bugging you, Kurt?"
Kurt sighed and looked over at Blaine. Sweet, kind, dependable, dreamy Blaine.
Friend Blaine.
"I looked it up, you know. If the ball had hit with a bit more force, if I hadn't been wearing a pop pom hat... something could have happened. I could have died! Die at the unfulfilled age of 16, alone and unsatisfied."
"Dramatic much?"
"Shut up." Kurt uncrossed his arms and sighed. "I'm serious! What if I crossed the road and got hit by a car tomorrow? I've done nothing! That's almost worse than dying all wrinkled and decrepit. Almost.Oh god, I don't want to end up looking like Melanie Griffith's knees. "
"Like you said, you're only sixteen," Blaine shrugged and settled back in his chair. "And I doubt you're going to ever look like a knee, you're practically Peter Pan." Kurt shook his head, exasperatedly.
"That's irrelevant though, there's a whole load of things I could do now that I haven't."
A pained expression flickered across Blaine's face and he bit the end of his thumb in thought.
"Well there is always..."
"What?" Kurt eyed his friend cautiously, brow raised.
"Have you ever seen that film? With Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman."
"Kurt, this is insane. If you must to do this. then at least make it near the end. Because I'm pretty sure it's going to be the last thing you do."
"No, I have to do this." Kurt clenched his jaw. "It's important."
Blaine shook his head, his face pale as the McKinley students brushed past him. Shooting their Dalton blazers curious looks. "I really think that..."
"This was your idea!"
"Not this! I was thinking, I don't know, sky diving or swimming with dolphins."
"Oh, Blaine! That's not... Oh, my God! There he is!" Kurt shrugged off his jacket and handed it towards Blaine. "Hold this. Hold it gingerly. It creases like hell."
"Please don't do this, Kurt." Blaine clutched the jacket to him, ignoring Kurt's hissed gingerly. "We'll go find some really big fish. Pretend they are dolphins."
Kurt grabbed Blaine's shoulders and squeezed. "I can do this. I've been practising all night."
"What? How?"
"My pillow. It's duck feathers so...it's pretty much destroyed."
"I hardly think that's a testament to your strength, Kurt! No! Come back! At least remember one thing!" Blaine hissed and Kurt stopped walking, turning round with an expectant impression.
"Thumb on the outside!"
Kurt gave a nod . "Tell my father I love him. Tell Finn not to wear pinstripes to the funeral." He turned on his heel once more, making his way towards the target. Blaine was right, why the hell was this on his list? Why had he crossed out the original wish and added this of all things. Oh, yeah. Because this was a thousand times more likely to go well, wasn't it? Which was really saying something. Plus it seemed nearly everyone in his old Glee club had done this at least once. Even Mercedes. Granted she'd been six at the time and she'd used her Barbie convertible as a weapon, but that was neither here or there.
"Hello, Karofsky." Kurt was pleased that his voice didn't tremble. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Karofsky turned, his eyes widening in shock and...fear?. "'Sup, Milkteeth?"
"I just wanted to say that..." Kurt licked his lips and tried not to cringe as Karofsky's gaze followed the movement. "I want to say that..."
"I ain't got all day, Ricky Martin. Spit it out." Karofsky moved closer, and began to grin his creepy half smile. Probably learned it from Jonathan King
"Well, you see..." Kurt glanced back to see Blaine peeking through his fingers.
Oh, fuck it.
Kurt swung with all his might, gasping as his knuckles made contact with cheekbone. Jesus!That hurt. Oh, damn. Thumb on the outside! Thumb on the outside.
"Did..." Karofsky held his cheek in shock. "Did you just punchme?"
"Yeah!" Kurt sneered, jerking forward. Karofsky took a jump back still cradling his face. "Now, uh. Bye!"
Kurt spun round, rushing towards the other boy. "Run away, Blaine! Run away!"
tbc
