Fill for Pyroclastic's "One Sentence" Fic Meme Prompt: "Blaine/Kurt, Diva-off"
It was down to the last two Warblers auditioning for the one solo spot at Nationals. Kurt and Blaine looked at each other from across the room. Blaine had a slightly smug grin on his face, as though saying "I know I'll get this, but it's great that they're letting you think you have a chance."
Kurt studied his opposition's face carefully. If it hadn't been for that smile, that self-satisfied grin that Blaine was barely trying to hide, he would have gone through with his plan. He would have blown the solo so that Blaine, his Blaine, the boy he loved (even though Blaine didn't love him back) could get that moment of glory at Nationals.
Some people were special. Some people Kurt would do anything to protect, to cherish, to care for. Some people deserved it.
Blaine, he realised when he saw that smile, did not. There was not one single moment that he could think of where Blaine had put Kurt's feelings as first priority, and Kurt no longer saw any reason why he should put Blaine before himself.
Kurt watched Blaine step forward to sing. Blaine started the recording of the backing voices and started the song. He sounded good - strong, bright, clear. Exactly the same as every solo he'd ever sung. The committee of three applauded politely and smiled at each other in an 'I think we've got our soloist' kind of a way.
Kurt stepped into the (imaginary) spotlight. He waited for absolute silence, and began the first note, a long 'ooh', rippling along a scale. He broke into the first verse:
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley.
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky -
When we walked in fields of gold.
His voice was pure and beautiful. It swooped and soared through the notes, gracefully and gently.
Normally, the Warblers went for musical power over emotion. Normally, the committee chose tried and tested soloists who had performed for them many times before. Normally, they would not choose a song that was written for a solo performer.
Normally, they weren't faced with Kurt Hummel. Normally, a soloist did not manage to bring each and every one of them to tears. Normally, it didn't occur to them that reaching the hearts of the judges was just as important as using complicated musical arrangements.
Some days are not normal. Some days are special. Every day in a thousand days, the committee of the Warblers would do the unexpected.
Today was one of those days.
And as Kurt broke the heart of every single member of the New York audience, they realised they had been perfectly right to do so.
I may have stolen a couple of lines of this fic from Doctor Who: The Forest of the Dead... I'm sorry, but they just fit so perfectly!