AN: Yes I knowwww I need to update 'A Little Something Something' but this plot bunny came into my head, so... I blame the UK Riots. And the government. Because they're to blame for everything so feel free to blame them for my lack of updates too.
I totally did a Harry Potter flash mob the other day. It was awesome meeting all the StarKids there, all dressed up in Harry Potter stuff, singing Gotta Get Back To Hogwarts on the platforms of King's Cross Station. Siriusly, if it happens again and you're in a position to come, DO!
Ok so I did start to plan another fic, but unfortunately, TranquillityOfPassion got in there before me and posted something with pretty much the same plot, only with Kurt in Blaine's shoes and wrote it about ten times better than I could have. I'm not complaining. I'm enjoying reading it more than I would enjoy writing it.
'Die For Me, Darling" by TranquillityOfPassion. Go read it.
I'm listening to 'Rent' from... well... Rent on repeat. It's so catchy! HOW WE GONNA PAY LAST YEAR'S RENT? (That'll be my theme tune when I start university, replacing 'Accio Gay Guy')
So I also posted the first chapter of an AU fantasy Glee fic, and I actually planned it all out and spent hours on it. I like, never do that. No one liked it. I.e.: Reviewed it. :| So I'm going back to my usual method of just writing whatever the heck comes into my head. That seems to work better in all aspects of life. Srsly – AS results? Didn't read any of the books for English, didn't really bother to study the set text in Theatre Studies and didn't revise one module of history or French oral, though I did the other two modules. I worked my arse off in Psychology (self taught), French (written) and the other module in history. My grades? Theatre: A, English: B, History: B (An A in the subject I didn't revise, a C in the one I did), a D in French (B in oral, D in written –wince-) and a U in Pscychology.
The moral of this story kids: Don't bother working. It all works out in the end.
Xxxxx
This is set in some sort of timeless period where Kurt's at Dalton, like all my stories are probably going to turn out. I'm still stuck in that mindset and the Warblers must live on, if only in our imaginations. Also, I know nothing about Ohio banks. I do apologise.
Xxxxx
Kurt snuggled his head comfortably in the junction between Blaine's jaw and shoulder, nuzzling his blazer sleepily. Blaine smiled slightly, before resting his palm on his boyfriend's thigh, curling his fingers in slightly to lightly grip his leg.
Just as his eyes began to slide closed in contentment, a sharp bang, like the crack of a shotgun made both boys jump away from each other, eyes wide as they stared at the source of the noise.
With a smug grin, Wes replaced his gavel upon the council table in front of him, "Now that our lead soloist is back with us," he said, with a poorly veiled glare at Blaine, who was attempting to look as innocent as possible, before addressing the Warblers as a whole with a much softer expression, "We all know what we're doing for Parent's Night on Thursday." He whipped his head back to Blaine, glaring again, "Right?"
Blaine put up his hands in mock surrender, "Right!"
Kurt merely glanced at him, eyes wide as saucers, easily detecting Blaine's lie as, he too, had no idea what the heck Wes had been talking about as a conclusion to the rehearsal – normally it was merely a stern, 'inspiring' speech, so both Kurt and Blaine took it as an excuse to generally snuggle and not pay attention to Wes at all.
Wes banged his gavel three more times, before David gently took it out of his hand, "Remember when we talked about how over-using the gavel takes away any effect it had in the first place?"
Wes nodded, stiffly, "They become used to the noise and will eventually overthrow me?" he agreed reluctantly, gazing longingly at the loud piece of wood.
"Right," David replied, obviously just going along with it, gently setting it down in the seat next to him, before addressing the Warblers himself, "What Wes meant to say was that's it for today, guys. Thanks for a great rehearsal. See you all Thursday."
There was a general murmuring of noise as the Warblers made their way to the door of the choir room, Wes trying to coax David into giving his gavel back as Kurt and Blaine stood from the comfortable, leather sofa they had been lounging on, hands linking automatically as they made their way out into the hall.
"Kurt! Blaine!"
They both turned to see Jeff hurrying after them, struggling to put his bag back over his shoulder as he ran and failing miserably as the two straps merely tangled themselves around his hand. Kurt unravelled Jeff's fingers from their prison before handing his bag back to him, "Thanks!" Jeff said breathlessly.
"Jeff! Thank God, man," Blaine greeted in a rush, "Do you know what the hell Wes was talking about for parent's night?"
"Uh," Jeff pondered as he hitched his bag further up his arm, before waving a hand dismissively, "It's nothing new, don't worry. I think Wes would have an aneurism if he tried to put together new stuff for parent's night this close to Regionals."
"Thank God for that," Kurt said as the three made their way into the car park.
"So, what are you guys doing this weekend?"Jeff asked conversationally as they made their way to their respective cars.
"Nothing, really. Blaine's coming over for dinner tonight but I guess we'll think of something to do over the weekend," Blaine smirked at his boyfriend's innocent, yet poor word choice.
"Yeah, something," Jeff commented, grinning at Kurt's blank look at Blaine's pointed glare.
"How about you?" Kurt questioned, still not noticing how the two boys had taken his comment.
Jeff shrugged, "Homework. Ooh, that reminds me. There was actually a reason I bothered you two. Kurt, can I borrow your French notes for last Wednesday please? I missed the lesson."
Kurt fished around in his bag for his French folder as they stopped at Jeff's car, handing him the sheets of paper, "There you go."
"Thanks, man. You're awesome."
Kurt smiled impishly, "I try. See you Monday?"
Jeff unlocked his car, "Yeah, see you guys."
Kurt and Blaine wandered leisurely over to the Navigator, playfully swinging hands between the two of them and nudging into the other slightly as they walked.
"So," Blaine questioned as he strapped himself into the passenger's side of the car, "What do we have planned this weekend?"
"I don't know," Kurt replied as he turned on the ignition, "I'm sure we'll think of something," he said as he reached round to clip his seatbelt in.
Blaine's cheeks reddened. There was no mistaking Kurt's suggestive tone this time, not helped at all by the fact that Kurt had just-
"Kurt, did you just wiggle your eyebrows at me?" Blaine exclaimed as they pulled out their parking space and crawled towards the exit.
"Maybe. Hey, is that Jeff?"
Blaine leaned over and peered out of Kurt's window, "I'd have thought he would have left before us."
Said boy was currently standing on the tar, staring helplessly at his vehicle. Kurt rolled down a window, "You okay?"
Jeff turned and grimaced, "Car won't start. Mom's gonna kill me."
"You want me to take a look at it?"
"No, it's fine. I just wanna get home. I'll call my parents, but thanks anyway."
"What?" Kurt rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Oh my God, Jeff, just get in the car. We'll give you a ride."
Blaine smiled slightly at Kurt's choice of pronoun, then felt kind of stupid, so forced his face back to neutral as Jeff got in the backseat. "I owe you one... two... Kurt."
Kurt grinned as he pulled out, "It's fine. You live Lima way anyway, right?" Kurt looked in his rear-view mirror to see Jeff nod, "Then it's fine. I need to stop off at the bank though, if that's okay with you guys?"
Kurt looked over at Blaine for approval, who simply nodded and took Kurt's free hand from across the console, pressing it to his lips briefly. Kurt blushed.
'The touch of a fingertip is as sexy as it gets.'
Yeah, that memory just made Kurt flush even deeper.
"You want me to go in with you?" Blaine offered as Kurt pulled into a space in the road just outside a Union Savings building.
"No, it's fine," Kurt smiled as he popped open his seatbelt, "See you in a minute," he said before leaning in and pecking Blaine shortly on the lips.
Jeff cleared his throat a little awkwardly, "Um. D'you mind if I come in? It's my sister's birthday on Monday and I'd best get some money out for someone to fix my car." He added with a slightly miserable tone.
"Don't worry about it," Kurt reassured him as they both walked into the bank, "My dad or I'll do it for you. On the house."
Jeff flushed a little as they lined up at the nearest cashier queue, "Thanks, but, I'd rather pay you for it."
"Seriously, it's no big deal."
"Kurt- Shit! Kurt, get down!"
Jeff physically pulled Kurt down by his blazer just before a loud gunshot cracked through the previously stuffy, too-quiet air. Around the room, there were various screams of shock as people instinctively ducked down, away from the source of the noise.
"Everybody on the ground now!" One man near the door practically screamed as a smaller man behind him hurriedly locked all the front doors, before running around to the various fire escapes and back rooms, blocking off any possible escape.
Kurt gazed up at him from where he was still safely tucked into Jeff's blazer, the other boy subconsciously covering Kurt's slight body from behind as he leant over his curved back.
Is this guy for real?
His eyes widened as he caught sight of a flash of metal at the man's waistband.
Okay, yeah, this guy's for real.
He realised, with growing horror, that if any of those police shows he had watched with Finn or just out of sheer boredom had any truth, then the fact that the guy was unmasked meant that he didn't have any qualms about killing any of them.
He gulped as his eyes travelled slowly back to the weapon in the man's trousers. He decided his judgement there was fairly accurate.
Xxxxxx
Blaine slumped in his seat, coat bunching up around his neck as he absently played a game on Kurt's iPhone. Sighing at the 20% battery warning that popped up, he closed the application and slipped the phone back into its crevice in the dashboard under the radio. He sighed and stared out of the driver's window, watching people come and go through the main entrance.
He sat up slightly as two men – one large and very much in dominance, the other smaller and slightly more nervous looking – casually strolled into the building. Blaine wouldn't have even noticed anything particularly unusual about either of them had they not been dressed from head to toe in what he assumed they thought was inconspicuous, unnoticeable clothing.
He watched the door in slight alarm for a moment but when nothing actually happened to suggest anything was wrong, Blaine merely slumped in his seat again, smiling slightly at his own paranoia. He was just reaching for Kurt's phone again, planning to just grovel and gaze adorably at him when Kurt realised his phone was completely dead and began to bitch him out about it, when a loud bang erupted from inside the bank.
He was out of the door like a shot (no pun intended at all), any thoughts of self-preservation lost in his mind screaming 'that was a gunshot! Kurt! Get to Kurt!'.
He fumbled for the door handles, slamming his fist against them in frustration as he realised that they were locked. He peered in one of the large windows, through the gaps in the blinds to spot Jeff leaning protectively over Kurt as the two men from before quickly gained control over the room's occupants. The smaller, who had obviously gone about securing the room from any unwanted intruders, quickly hurried over to the closest window – the one Blaine was looking through – and closed all the blinds.
Blaine's heart hammered, feeling as though it had jumped up into his throat, as he realised he couldn't see. Kurt was stuck in there with some gun-wielding maniac and he couldn't see what was going on.
With trembling fingers, Blaine fished out his own phone from his pocket and dialled 911, as he saw other passers-by on the streets doing.
He numbly relayed information to the operator. None of this actually felt real.
Xxxxx
Kurt and Jeff found themselves sitting on the tiled floor in front of one of the counters, watching the apparent leader of the two warily, as he roughly grabbed other customers littered around the room; against the walls and counters, ignoring the often emitted whimper of fear as they searched for cells phones or parents were temporarily wrestled from confused or sobbing children. The two boys found themselves unconsciously pressing closer together as their captor moved closer and closer towards them, but both heaving sighs of relief as he was distracted by the woman at the cashier.
The smaller of the two had approached her, trembling gun poised, making shaky demands that she met without question or hesitation, handing over blocks of notes with shaking fingers. The other man strode over, pulling him away by the scruff of his collar, raising his handgun in a much firmer grip than the other had, "The point is to tell her to go to the vaults and safes."
He flicked the safety off of his weapon, "Go on!"
The cashier's eyes widened as her shaking hands rose in an innocent gesture, "I don't have access to it, I-I-"
The man flicked his gun off to the side slightly, "Go get your boss."
"He...I..."
Kurt slumped in relief against Jeff as sirens were distantly heard from outside, "Shit!" he turned to his partner, still wielding the gun, "This is your fault!"
Jeff let out an involuntary sigh, to which the larger man turned, the weapon now trained on he and Kurt alternately, "Don't know why you fairies are so happy, I'm not leaving empty-handed."
The smaller of the two edged forward quietly, "But Mick, what-?"
"You hired me," he interrupted, "And you said you wanted $100,000 for your precious little daughter," he sneered back at the two boys on the floor, "Do you reckon your lives are worth that much?"
Kurt couldn't help himself. He rolled his eyes. The larger of the two, Mick, charged forward, pressing the muzzle of his gun against Kurt's scarf, "You got something to say?"
Kurt looked nervously at the gun pressing into him, "N-No?"
"No, go on, say it."
The safety was flicked off again, Mick's eyes glinting dangerously.
Kurt gulped carefully, "The state never gives into ransoms," he said shakily, "You're just trapping yourself. Just run out back while you can, none of us will identify you."
The entire room seemed to nod in agreement at Kurt's words. Mick roughly shoved Kurt back whilst walking back towards the centre of the room.
"The kid's right..." the smaller one said gently, "Let's just go. Please."
Mick turned back to Kurt who felt his blood freeze at the grin on the man's face that told him he'd just had what he, himself, considered to be a brilliant idea. "The state also won't let you die. Even if you are a fag."
"What do you-?"
But Kurt couldn't finish his question because, quick as lightening, he registered a muzzle flash and a deafening crack that was much louder than he had ever recalled in any of Finn's stupid action movies, and an overwhelmingly sharp pain in his side. His last thought as he slumped sideways into his friend, who threw out his own arms to catch him as he slid down, was why is it they always just assume I'm gay?
Xxxxx
Ok, so this was meant to be a one-shot but I got mind-blocked. This is a crap place to end it but hey :D I hope you enjoyed this