Pairings: Klaine, some Finchel; mentions of canon (Quinn/Sam, Artie/Brittany, Santana/Puck)
Disclaimer: I own nothing that is Glee. Even though I really SHOULD own Chris Colfer. But, alas, Santa disappointed this year.
Rachel Berry: Matchmaker Extraordinaire
Rachel Berry always knew she was destined for stardom.
Well, almost always.
See, one time, back when she was ten years old and much too immersed in show choir and musicals and talent competitions to back out now, she briefly considered a different career path. She was talented, smart, and pretty – but people still mocked her. They were jealous, of course, as her fathers later enlightened her. Jealous that she had practically everything a person could want in this life. So, Rachel thought that maybe, in order to help people cope with her so obvious supremacy, she would become a matchmaker; find love for those who clearly could use it. If others were happy, they would be less likely to act on their jealousy. She would take a break from her dreams of Tony Awards and Broadway, in order to make the world a better place.
It was a very, very dark time for Rachel.
But, even as she tried with all her might, she could never completely forget those days when she had lost sight of her dream – after all, Rachel Berry was gifted in whatever she tried. And she had tried matchmaking. Thus, she was gifted in matchmaking.
Which was why she couldn't just sit around and watch as two people who were obviously soul mates danced around each other in an endless game of flirting and obliviousness. A game that was currently being played.
"And then," Blaine choked out, "Wes' whole underwear drawer just blew up!"
"It was an accident!" cried Kurt, cheeks a furious pink. "How was I supposed to know that Spearmint toothpaste, when combined with that particular chemical, can have such a violent reaction?"
All of New Directions (excluding Lauren Zizes – apparently some people are too good for "sappy reunions" and will only join in if they don't have to pay for their own food) was sitting at a huge table at Breadstix, in near hysterics from the stories Blaine was weaving for them. It was spring break and Kurt had finally come home to Lima; in celebration, his former Glee club planned on throwing a little party and taking him out to dinner. But then – woop-di-doo – Blaine-From-Dalton shows up with a suitcase Kurt forgot (a sixteen-year-old boy can only keep track of so many clothes) and one charming smile and a flutter of Kurt's ridiculously long eyelashes later, Blaine was invited along, too.
The most Rachel had ever met Blaine was at Sectionals – when he came to tell Kurt that the Warblers were about to perform, and for a brief moment afterwards when team buses were still arriving. She'd noticed nothing then. Not even – and this was the embarrassing part – that he was gay.
She was a shame to children of homosexual parents everywhere.
Now, however, things were different. The wound of Finn fraternizing with the enemy (coughSantanacough) wasn't as fresh, and she was getting solos again, and her head was a bit clearer. So she began to notice things. Oh, how she noticed.
They sat beside each other, straight across from her. Kurt's shoulders angled slightly towards Blaine and whenever Blaine reached for his glass of ice water, his fingers would casually brush the back of Kurt's hand, lying innocently against the table cloth. And both of them were a bit too preoccupied with keeping their eyes firmly away from the other.
The sexual tension was suffocating. Something had to be done.
"That's hardcore, man," said Puck. "I mean, I've stolen stuff before, but I'm no pyro."
"It was an accident, Puckerman," Kurt hissed; hesitated a moment. "Besides, you're as big a pyromaniac as anyone. Remember seventh grade science, there was that incident with the Bunsen burner –,"
"They couldn't prove anything!"
Smirking, Kurt turned to Blaine – their eyes locked and they quickly looked away.
Yes, something seriously needed to be done.
"Mercedes," Rachel interrupted whatever mundane conversation had been taking place, "would you care to accompany me to the women's room?"
Mercedes' eyebrows shot up. "You can't find it yourself –?"
"Mercedes!"
"Yeesh!" Throwing her napkin down, she stood. "Calm yourself, homegirl, I'm coming!"
Beside Rachel, Finn looked up from his food, as if he was about to say something, before closing his mouth and down casting his eyes again. Rachel tried not to notice the way Santana casually plucked a breadstick from his plate and plopped it into her mouth. Like they were friends.
Ew.
Rachel hurried through the maze of tables and down a hallway. When she entered the surprisingly clean restroom, Mercedes hot on her heels, Mercedes immediately rounded on her.
"Look, Rachel, if this is about how I should know what goes on in Santana's mind because we're both 'from Da Hood,' I already told you –,"
"This has nothing to with a certain Cheerio," Rachel said coolly. "Although I still think that because of both your rather questionable upbringings, you would have at least some idea of how she thought –,"
"What questionable upbringing? My dad's a dentist!"
"Anyway, you are probably already aware of the fact that I am quite the matchmaker. I can spot soul mates from a mile away."
Mercedes was silent for a moment. Then she burst out laughing.
Rachel blinked.
"Oh, that is just too good . . ." Catching sight of Rachel's straight face, she sobered a little, smile fading into an incredulous frown. "Wait, you were serious?" Mercedes shook her head and placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "No offense, honey, but I find that kinda hard to believe from a girl who couldn't hold on to a man to save her life."
Rachel scowled, affronted. "That is extremely unfair. I've only technically had two boyfriends, one of which was possibly a trainee for the CIA and unspeakably evil –,"
"We tried to warn you."
"And the other of which slept with the most promiscuous girl in our class because of his own self-esteem problems."
"After you dumped him for the evil CIA trainee."
"Anyway," Rachel huffed, trying to steer the conversation back on track. Her dads said, though she was undoubtedly determined, she could sometimes be easily distracted. "This is not about my love life. But rather about Kurt's."
Rachel could see her words impact the girl across from her. Finally.
"What do you know about Kurt's love life?" Mercedes asked suspiciously.
"Well, it is sort of obvious that he is head-over-heels for this Blaine character. And I'd put my money on the guess that Blaine reciprocates these feelings. But they're both too dense to do anything about it, so if we gave them a little push . . ." Rachel's sentence trailed off; Mercedes was already shaking her head wildly.
"No. No, no, no, no, no. Nuh-uh. We are not meddling in Kurt's love life. He doesn't want us to, and neither does Blaine, so we ain't gonna."
"But –,"
"No, Rachel." Her voice softened, just a bit, as she looked into Rachel's stricken eyes. "I admit it's sort of sweet that you want them together, but Kurt has to do this by himself, ok? He has to know he can do this by himself. Don't' meddle."
And then Mercedes walked out and Rachel was left alone, thinking of how asking her not to meddle was like asking Barbara Streisand to be boring. Quite simply put: an impossible task.
-X-
Rachel slid casually back into her chair, picking up her fork as if she never left.
Finn hissed in her ear, "What took you so long?"
"None of your business, Finnegan," she snapped.
Finn blinked. "Since when did anyone call me –?"
"Tell me, Blaine, are there a lot of open homosexuals at Dalton?" she interrupted. Blaine hastily swallowed his mouthful of salad, and dabbed at his lips with his pristine napkin. Rachel couldn't help noticing Kurt's eyes trail the movement.
The kid had it bad. Lucky for him, Rachel was an outstanding friend.
"Um, well," said Blaine, "there are probably a lot more than at other schools in Ohio."
"I always imagined an all boys school to be, like, a big, gay orgy," Santana said, with her annoying, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice.
Blaine opened his mouth to respond, when Brittany chimed, "But Kurt, you said you couldn't come to my orgy . . ."
"Actually," Blaine cut in, "Dalton is a very serious school and there aren't really any –,"
"Have you ever had a boyfriend at Dalton, Blaine?" Rachel asked.
Blaine glanced nervously at Kurt, who glared at Rachel with daggers in his eyes. Oh, well. He would appreciate this when he was united with the love of his life.
"I have had a few, yes." Blaine adjusted his tie. Did he go everywhere in that uniform?
No. Must be focused. No distractions.
"Mmhm. And have you been able to identify a certain 'type' of man you look for?"
"Rachel . . ." Kurt and Mercedes said in unison, tones warning.
"I'm just curious!" she defended. Turned to Blaine, smile blinding. Picture of innocence. "One of my dads always dated African American men, like my other dad, but the latter said he dated men of all –,"
"Lovely," Quinn drawled. "The Rachel Berry life story. Again."
Rachel glared at her. "My point is that some people have certain types, you know? Like, Kurt, for instance!" Groaning, Mercedes banged her forehead against the table. "I think, as we can tell with the whole Finn situation –,"
"Finn situation?" Blaine arched an eyebrow. Kurt flushed and Finn shifted awkwardly.
"Oh, he didn't tell you about that?" Rachel continued. "There was a little period of time when Kurt had a crush on Finn, but, really, who didn't?"
"You make it very difficult to like you, Rachel," Kurt remarked.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Um, point out the obvious much? That's why the rest of us have stopped trying."
Rachel huffed. "Ok, I am going to try and finish my sentence for once –,"
"Please don't," several voices chorused.
"Kurt's type is clearly dark and mysterious!" she burst, resisting the urged to stick out her tongue at the rest of them. "Kind of like . . . like you, Bl –,"
"Ok!" Kurt nearly yelled. "I think dark and mysterious is not really my type, seeing as I liked golden boy Sam for a little. I mean, when I thought he was gay. Which I am still not entirely convinced he isn't." He waved vaguely at Quinn and Sam, sitting with their pinkies interlinked like the perfect Ken and Barbie dolls they were. "No offense."
Sam shrugged good-naturedly. "None taken."
"I'm not really convinced either," Quinn added.
And, thus, the table launched into an animated discussion of Sam's metrosexuality.
High schoolers, Rachel thought with a roll of her eyes. So petty.
A shoe connected with her shin; she started, and looked up to meet Kurt's sharp eyes.
"What are you doing?" he mouthed. Mercedes noticed and whispered in his ear. Rachel watched wearily as his eyes clouded over, before narrowing. "Rachel Berry, I swear –,"
"You can thank me later," Rachel whispered. She suddenly gasped, and near-yelled, "Kurt! I've never noticed but your eyes are so . . . enigmatic! They're like, this mix between blue, gray, and green. What color would you say Kurt's eyes are, Blaine?"
Blaine barely even spared Kurt a glance. "Blue."
"How could you possibly know that?" She allowed a hint of irritation to creep into her voice.
"Because we've looked into each other's eyes before."
"Looked or gazed?"
His eyebrows shot up, pink coloring up his neck. "I – what?"
"Never mind. Just, his eyes might have changed color since then. You need to look at him again." Not imagining that it could make the Warbler a tad uncomfortable, she reached over the table and forcibly dragged Blaine's chin around, so he had no other choice but to stare (adoringly, Rachel thought) into Kurt's eyes. "There. Now, what color are they?"
She saw him swallow, the slightest bob of his Adam's apple. Noticed the spark in his hazel eyes; wildfire in a forest. Felt him tilt his head forward, just a bit, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Kurt's eyes swept over the action hungrily.
This was it; she could tell with every fiber of her being, as she deliberately dropped her hand from Blaine's skin, carefully drew it back to her side. She was a mere fly on a wall in this moment – all of New Directions was. Unwelcome intruders, looking in on a private display, not meant for any of their eyes. And she cherished every second of it.
Yes . . . yes . . . Rachel thought, as Blaine's hand sneaked up to lightly rest on Kurt's elbow. Questioning eyes, eager and terrified all at once, begging for permission. Because the pair had been skirting around this for far too long, and it was about time someone made a move. Just a little closer . . .
"I'm never looking at Kurt's eyes," blurted Brittany. "Only his baby-soft hands."
And, just like that, the magic was broken.
Blaine jerked his head back around to his food, hand casually falling from Kurt's sweatered arm as if it was never there in the first place. Kurt stared at the other boy's profile for a long moment, before he too looked away. Rachel's heart ached.
They were so close.
"He does have, like, really soft hands," agreed Finn. Rachel glared, and he shrunk into his seat, muttering petulantly, "What? It's true."
"How do you even get hands that soft?" asked Tina.
"Probably baby oil," said Mike. Everyone stared at him. "At least, that's what my, uh, mom tells me." He began to shovel pasta into his mouth.
Brittany asked, "If vegetable oil is made of vegetables, then is baby oil made of babies?"
As Artie began to explain what exactly baby oil is made of and how it got its name to his lovely girlfriend, Kurt snapped, "It's duck fat, geniuses. I soak my hands in duck fat." He carefully swept a stray strand of his from his forehead and back into its perfect coif.
Silence. Then –
"Where the hell do you buy duck fat?"
"Is that even legal?"
"You don't, like, have a duck farm, do you, where you raise ducks specifically for their fat?"
"Aw, hell," moaned Mercedes. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
"I feel your grievances," said Rachel.
"I was talking about you."
Rachel huffed. How rude.
-X-
The remainder of the dinner was uneventful. Rachel continued to tryto coax Blaine and Kurt into admitting their undying love for each other – but the two boys refused to play into her hands, dancing away from her prodding questions so expertly they could have choreographed an entire ballet. Soon enough, they were all splitting the check (well, almost all – Rachel was certain she saw Puck sneaking his share back into his pocket) and most everyone was stalling. For all their many differences, it seemed depressing to say goodbye to Kurt again.
Plus, Rachel Berry was many, many things. But she was, by no means, a quitter.
"It's still early," she said. "Who wants a frozen yogurt?"
The consent was instantaneous. Rachel thought she had never had so many people agree with her in her life.
"I should get going, really," Blaine said. "I live a long way from here –,"
"No!" Rachel exclaimed. She cleared her throat. "I mean, it won't take long. Just a scoop of frozen yogurt . . . the best in Lima . . . Ohio, even . . ."
Blaine arched an eyebrow. "The best frozen yogurt in Ohio?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yup."
He looked over at Kurt, trying to disguise the pure want in his eyes. "What do you think? I mean, if you think I should get going –,"
"No!" Kurt cried loudly. Several strangers stared and he flushed deeply. "I mean . . . if you want, you can go of course, but it is the best . . ."
Blaine nudged him with his shoulder, sweet smile tugging at his lips. "Well, how am I supposed to pass up an offer like that?"
For a moment, they simply sat there, grinning dopily and gazing into the other's eyes. Rachel made a point of cocking an eyebrow at Mercedes, before jumping up and clapping her hands together. "Alright then! Meet you all there!"
She skipped out the parking lot (ignoring Santana's snide remark of, "I say we ditch her.") to wait by Puck's truck (her parents wouldn't let her get her own car until she was eighteen, and Puck was the only one who said he could remotely stand her. Well, Kurt could stand her now, she supposed. But he was too busy making goo-goo eyes at a certain "friend" to pay attention to traffic).
Hearing the sound of footsteps, she straightened, only to quickly deflate when she saw Puck was not the boy confronting her. But, even though she was disappointed, her heart still managed to race at the sight of Finn's hulking frame.
"What was that all about?" he asked without preamble, waving toward the restaurant. "Kurt looked like he was, like . . . really freaked out. And the minute you left, Mercedes started cussing you out. Seriously, she said some words I didn't even know. Plus, you hardly talked about yourself at all. I'm kind of confused."
Finn. Confused. Shocker.
Slowly, a look of comprehension dawned in Finn's (deep, unfathomable, twinkling) brown eyes. "Whoa . . . do you . . . like Blaine? Because, not that you're not great and stuff, but I'm pretty sure he's –,"
Rachel slapped his arm (his big, muscular, strong . . . no distractions!). Hard. In fact, now her palm stung a bit.
"I do not wish to pursue a romantic relationship with Blaine!" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips (and inconspicuously rubbing aforementioned injured palm against the soft fabric of her coat). "Please. I have two gay dads, Finn – I very well understand that he is not interested. However, he is interested in Kurt. So, being the utterly selfless person I am, I have taken it upon myself to get them together." She smiled proudly, silently hoping his reaction would be better than Mercedes'. Not that she particularly cared what Finn Hudson thought about her genius plans. That phase in her life was so over.
Really.
Finn stared at her for the longest moment, unreadable, before a soft smile graced his features. "You know, that's really sort of cool of you, Rach –,"
"'Kay, much as I dig the love-fest," Puckerman interrupted, unlocking his truck and jumping into the driver's seat, "I gots to get me some fro-yo, so could you speed it up?"
Finn glowered, and his former best friend met his gaze coolly. Slowly, he turned and made his way through the parking lot, scuffing the toes of his tennis shoes along the asphalt.
"Finn!" Rachel called weakly. He evidently didn't hear her, sliding into the red convertible he was sharing with the Cheerios and Sam. Or maybe he ignored her. Either way, Rachel could feel her heart shattering all over again.
-X-
The Lima Freeze was warm and inviting, and surprisingly uncrowded for spring break night; its only occupants were three pre-teen girls slurping multicolored shakes and trying to look cool, and an elderly couple nibbling at a cup of yogurt topped with strawberries. The couple hurriedly stood to leave as they noticed the boisterous teenagers entering the shop.
"It's usually a lot more hectic," Rachel explained to Blaine. "After Breadstix, it's really the hottest dating spot in town." She spied the shiny jukebox in the corner, glistening under the florescent lighting, beckoning. A plan began to wriggle into her ever-present brain. "How about I go pick out a song on the jukebox while you all order?" Not waiting for an affirmative, she pushed Blaine into Kurt – noticing the way the former's hands lingered on Kurt's hips much too long – and skipped off to the jukebox.
Rachel took a quarter out of the coin purse in her pocket (always be prepared!) and plopped it into the silver slit, bouncing on the balls of her feet as the jukebox whirred to life. She spun the dial through Billboard chart toppers, song after song appearing on the digital screen: "Mine" by Taylor Swift – too girly; "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars – too associated with platonic, step-brotherly love; "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga – too many memories for Rachel. Finally, a title appeared on the screen that made Rachel's breath stutter and her eyes brighten. Eagerly, she chose the song.
There was no particular reason she chose it. She simply admired Katy Perry as an artist. And, ok, maybe she remembered Kurt mentioning something about Blaine practically singing this song to him when they first met. Maybe.
As the upbeat opening chords filled the room, Rachel all but flew to where her friends (and she used that term loosely) were sitting. She could hear Blaine saying, "I thought you didn't like sugar. That it all went straight to your hips," and see Kurt's coy glance through his lashes, accompanying a reply of, "A little sugar never hurt anyone."
Oh my god. They were so. Stinking. Cute.
"You think I'm pretty without any makeup on, you think I'm funny I tell the punch line wrong . . ."
"I love this song!" she trilled, grabbing Kurt's wrist with one hand and Blaine's with the other, and forcing them to their feet. "Dance with me!"
Mercedes murmured, "Please, don't tell me she's going to –,"
But Quinn cut her off. "Oh, she's going to, alright."
The Glee club watched as Rachel positioned Kurt hand on her waste began to waltz – literally waltz –around the very public shop, to the very poppy "Teenage Dream."
"Well," Artie finally broke the resignedly somber silence, spooning some more chocolate-vanilla swirl yogurt, "you have to admire her persistence."
-X-
"I know what you're doing," Kurt hissed under his breath as they glided across the checkered floor, Blaine hovering awkwardly off to the side. The pre-teens took one look at them and sniffed disdainfully, before leaving the premises. Gosh. Some people just did not know how to have fun.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rachel said nonchalantly.
"Yes you do. And, for your information, it won't work."
"No I don't." She hesitated before hurriedly adding, "And yes it will!"
Kurt rolled his eyes.
"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream, the way you turn me on . . ."
Rachel spun Kurt down her arm to her side, before quickly snapping him out again, so he spun right into Blaine. Blaine grabbed him around the middle, held him.
Kurt straightened and was about to back away, when Blaine's embrace tightened and he grinned, all dapper-like. "May I cut in?" he asked suavely and Kurt could do nothing but nod.
Rachel beamed as they picked up where her waltz had left off. Watched them move in sync to the music, as if it was made solely for them. Watched Blaine's thumb make slow, soothing circles against Kurt's waist.
Feeling suddenly alone, she raced back to New Directions' booth and pulled Finn out to Kurt and Blaine.
"Whoa, what are you –?" he started, but gave up when she placed his hand on her waist and started to move, making it near impossible to not dance. He wasn't as graceful as Kurt had been – yet she couldn't bring herself to mind much.
Rachel tried to eavesdrop on her pet project, she really did! But Blaine wasn't saying anything of importance (rather, softly singing, "I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece . . ." in his beloved's ear), and she thought they could use a little space anyway. So she drifted off to the side, lost in the sensation of Finn's strong hand clutching hers and the part bewildered, part irritated, part endeared (all adorable) expression on his face.
She didn't even notice Brittany wheeling Artie onto the makeshift dance floor, or Sam and Quinn slow dancing, or Puck and Santana bumping and grinding to the beat. Well, she kind of did. Because the smug feeling at went along with others enjoying her previously mocked idea never did get old.
Rachel glanced up; became captured in Finn's gaze. He was murmuring the lyrics, seemingly to himself, maybe even unaware that he was doing so. But she couldn't help the thrill that coursed through her veins at the words flowing from his lips.
"My heart stops when you look at me . . . Just one touch, now baby I believe . . . This is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back . . ."
This was real. Rachel knew it with clarity. She had made mistakes, and maybe Finn had too, but they were every bit as meant to be as Kurt and Blaine. She could feel it.
They needed to take that chance, just like the scared little Dalton boys, and never look back.
"Let you put your hands on me, in my skintight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight."
The music slowed to a halt, replaced by boring, coffeehouse-type tunes. The kids burst into laughter; meandered back to their desserts, giggling and joking all the time. Rachel and Finn stood still; desperately trying to hold onto the moment, until the latter wordlessly stepped away and returned to his seat to mindlessly poke at a gummy bear in his yogurt cup.
She would not let him get to her. Not tonight, when so much was at stake.
Rachel glanced around frantically, expecting to see Kurt and Blaine holding hands, or whispering sweet nothings to one another, or ripping their clothes off and doing the deed right then and there – but no such luck. She spotted them sitting a respectful distance apart, Kurt eating the cherry off the top of sundae, Blaine sucking at the straw of his mint chocolate shake. Both avoiding eye contact.
Something inside Rachel snapped.
"What is WRONG with you people?" she exclaimed, marching right up to them.
Blinking, Kurt glanced at his fellow stunned-looking glee clubbers. "Er, not to be offensive, Rach . . . but you aren't seriously asking us that question, are you?"
Rachel ignored him. Because things were just easier that way. "You waltz around the room, sparks plainly fly – then you come and eat your fro-yo, like nothing happened!" She forced herself not to look at Finn. "What is a matchmaker to do, when you guys are so darn dense?"
The room fell into a shocked silence, broken only by Brittany asking, "Sparks? Matchmaker? Did Kurt set the place on fire?"
"Oh my god, Britt!" Kurt snapped. "I already told you all, that was one time and Wes' underwear recovered!"
Rachel blew an angry breath out her nose. She was getting nowhere with Kurt and Blaine, clearly – so she did the obvious thing: turn on her heel and storm out of the room.
The night wind seemed much more frigid than before, Rachel realized, huddling into her coat. Tears stung her eyes; life was so hard when you were as great as she.
"I must admit," a silky soft voice broke through her justified pity party, "I was always a tad jealous of your storm outs."
Rachel's shoulders stiffened, as Kurt sidled up to her. Their arms brushed and she unconsciously leaned into the extra warmth.
"Of course," he continued, "I could never admit how admirable I found them when we hated each other. But things are different now, and I feel no guilt in telling you that they are an art you have perfected."
Rachel sniffled, but a small smile quirked her lips. "They are very good," she agreed.
"Mmhmm." They were quiet, listening to the distant hum of car motors and chirping of invisible crickets. "So, what's up with you?"
"Nothing."
"We both know that's not true." He nudged her shoulder. "Is it a 'Finn's an Idiot' problem? Because, believe you me, I have more than enough experience there."
"It's a 'You and Blaine are Idiots' problem," she snapped. Mumbled, "And, ok, maybe I'm not as over Finn as I thought I was."
She felt Kurt's shoulders rise and fall with a deep sigh. "I thought so. Want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly."
"There's a first."
Rachel shot him a glare, to which Kurt had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry. Habit."
Again, quietness engulfed them, spread over their every breath like butter on toast. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though – in fact, quite the contrary. It was filled with mutual understanding and even a bit (though if you asked either party, they would vehemently deny it) of fondness.
"Why have you been pushing Blaine and me together all night?" Kurt suddenly asked. "You've been especially obnoxiousness. And I think it's making Blaine uncomfortable."
At that, Rachel rolled her eyes. "Please. He might be uncomfortable with my obnoxiousness, but he is plenty comfortable with be pushed together with you."
Kurt turned his face to her, but only a bit. "You really think he likes me?" His tone was nonchalant, but she could see the emotions swirling in his eyes: hope. Fear. Anxiety. A little desperation.
She allowed a cheeky grin to stretch her mouth upward. "And here I was, thinking you were almost as smart as me."
Kurt laughed – well, more like giggled hysterically – and his entire face lit up. "But still. That doesn't answer my original question: why are you doing this?"
"Because you're a great guy, Kurt," Rachel said, honestly. "And you deserve love. And maybe there's a tiny part of me hoping that you and Blaine will be too distracted by passion that we'll be able to cream you guys at Regionals."
"I knew it!" He laughed again; Rachel doubted she had seen him smile this much since the third grade when their lazy substitute teacher had allowed him to give the class a lesson on bargain hunting for designer brands at the mall.
"You know," Rachel said slowly, "it would sort of be a shame to see all my hard work from tonight put to waste."
Kurt arched a practiced eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Absolutely! So much planning, so much conniving – if I had done it over the span of more than one day, I'm sure I would have lost sleep."
"You poor dear."
Rachel's eyes narrowed at his blasé manner. "Ok, Hummel, that's it. I am through with subtlety."
"At what point were you being subtle?"
"I want you to march into the Lima Freeze and kiss Blaine senseless!"
She felt rather proud of her plan, honestly. But the look Kurt gave her was not one of admiration, but of pure incredulity. "Are you insane?" he asked. "I can't do that!"
"Why not? You are strong, Kurt, and brave – and you have great hair."
Kurt glanced over his shoulder, through the glass windows, into the Freeze. Blaine caught him looking and gave a little wave. "Do you really think so?"
"Do I think you have great hair? Positively. Even if your incessant and abnormal use of hairspray deteriorates the ozone layer –,"
"It's organic." Chewing his lips, he trained his vulnerable eyes on her again. "What I meant was, do you really think I'm brave."
Smiling softly, Rachel said, "One of the bravest people I know. You've stood up to bullies, voluntarily taken slushies, gone up against me for solos – next to that, kissing the boy you love, when he obviously loves you back, shouldn't be too difficult, should it?"
Kurt still didn't look convinced, so she rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. "Just channel a little bit of that courage."
For some reason, a spark seemed to ignite within Kurt at her words. His lips quirked upward, eyes flashed excitedly. "Courage," he repeated. "Ok. Ok."
He turned on his heel and entered the Lima Freeze; squealing, Rachel followed hot on his heels.
Kurt strode straight up to Blaine and gestured for the other boy to stand. He did, casting concerned glances over Kurt's shoulder at the bouncing-off-the-walls Rachel, a dramatic change from how he'd last seen her.
"Hey," Blaine said. "Is everything –?"
Kurt pressed his lips to his.
Any conversations previously existing instantly died away, as, after the shock wore off, Blaine returned the kiss, cupping Kurt's face close. The woman behind the counter dropped her yogurt scoop, squeaked, and scurried into the backroom. Mercedes raised her eyebrows at Rachel; she shrugged modestly, and Mercedes looked about read to pass out. Rachel wasn't sure if that was because of the inappropriate noises escaping innocent little Kurt Hummel's mouth, or that she had been modest. Both were fairly disconcerting.
Rachel swayed from side to side, on cloud nine; though when Kurt began to trace the contours of Blaine's chest and abs, things started to get a little awkward, so she cleared her throat. Loudly. When they still refused to be polite and surface for air, she grabbed the cherry off Santana's sundae ("Did she just steal my cherry? Am I gonna have to cut a bitch?") and threw it at them. It hit Blaine's cheek with a dull splat! Yet yet they still took their sweet time pulling apart.
Boys. Totally impossible.
Finally finished, Blaine and Kurt stared at each other, bright eyed and love struck, and so, so happy looking that Rachel didn't even mind that Santana was now threatening her life for "defacing private property." Even though it was just a cherry, which seemed melodramatic. And this was coming from Rachel.
"I think I kind of love you," Blaine breathed, and Kurt beamed, pressing his face into the crook of Blaine neck.
"Cool," he murmured.
The rest of the night was actually pretty fun, believe it or not. Santana eventually stopped making death threats, and Mercedes eventually started being amiable, and Blaine and Kurt eventually detached their tongues long enough to become decent company again. Rachel couldn't even bring herself to feel too hurt when her only form of contact with Finn was stolen glances and longing sighs.
Because when two people were undoubtedly made for each other – and she knew this from experience – nothing would stand in their (or Rachel's) way.
-X-
A/N: Well, HEELLLLOOO Glee fandom and fellow Klaine shippers! I am SO excited to join you all!
This is my first Glee/non-Harry Potter fanfic, and my first slash (I used to never read slash – but what can I say? Darren Criss converted me). I feel so proud. Even if there aren't any AVPM references. That's not, like, protocol, is it? Am I still welcome in your lovely fandom, if I put the reference in my author's note? Well, here goes: please review and tell me how SUPERMEGAFOXYAWESOMEHOT (or not) this was.
Thanks for reading :P
Squid