"KLAINE'S DICTIONARY OF LOVE"
'-naochie03-': I feel awful. I mean, I never got around finishing anything. Like, my past fics, and the other Klaine fic I just started the other night. *headdesk* Plot bunny is not amused. :p
BUT DAMMIT (Janet!) BLAINE FREAKIN' WARBLER ANDERSON IS TOO HOT SINGING 'WHEN I GET YOU ALONE'. *Flails* Wish he could give Kurtsie a repeat performance. In private. Hmm. Oh, and in return Kurt would do a glee performance of Justin Timberlake's 'SEXYBACK' with Brittany, Santana, Tina, and Mercedes because DAAAAMMMN. *nosebleed* Shoot me now. Inspirations are flooding in and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT! XDDD
*coughs* Enough is enough. I'm rambling now. :p
Summary: It all started out as a pretty innocent, not to mention annoying, English project. They were supposed to create their own dictionary with their own definitions. But then Kurt came into his life, and everything became godfucking colorful and meaningful. Add to that New Directions, the Warblers, and goddamned sexual frustration—he was pretty sure that his dictionary would be anything but wholesome.
Disclaimer: I do not own GLEE. If I did, Kurt would probably be more or less like Santana, but in a scarily fake innocent way. AND BLAINE WOULD SOOO GET SOME.
It all began with a stupid English project.
Yes, exams just finished, but then here comes their totally in denial (that he's losing hair) obnoxious English Professor of theirs, Mr. Greene, who by the way, dresses as if he came out from a bad remake of Harry Potter or something.
No, it's not that Blaine Anderson couldn't put up with his totally ridiculous outfit. He didn't want to come off as a person who's judgmental (especially when it came to clothes). It's not that he couldn't put up with his headdesk-worthy terrible, terrible fake British accent. And out of all the people in his classroom, he should know. He was half-Irish after all. And it's not that he couldn't put up with his holier-than-thou diva-pretense attitude.
"Okay class! Guess what? I have a treat for you today", Mr. Greene emphasized the word with an over exaggerated heavy accent. And then with a sly grin, he produced a handmade recycled do-it-yourself type of book with the label DICTIONARY on it.
"Your English Project!" He all but squealed with sadistic glee.
It was this.
The lead soloist resisted the urge to repeatedly hit his head on the desk and scream 'Someone, shoot me please!' Having only an hour worth of sleep in the past week, topped off with memorizations from History about Charlemagne, getting his verbs right in French, and formula from both Chemistry and Algebra and add the stress of Warbler's practice after class—he was so stressed that he was ready to strangle somebody (he usually does Wes or David. Or Thad, occasionally). And it wasn't only him who was desperately clinging unto his last thread of sanity, Wes was ready to pound someone with his gavel, and he was pretty sure that he had caught David muttering incoherent things while rocking back and forth in the dark corner of his room.
"But Mr. Greene, exams were just finished yesterday—"somebody piped in. Blaine cheered internally.
"I know that. I'm just giving you your project right now, so by the end of the semester, you would be able to pass it to me without any excuses of late or worse, excuses of no project at all", the English Professor explained haughtily. "Plus, it's not as if I'm asking you to pass this tomorrow, but the deadline would be approximately, two weeks from now", another collective groan, "Yes. And I know you guys are so excited for this."
The curly haired singer couldn't help himself. He unceremoniously hit his head with his book laid down in front of him. Thad snickered from beside him. Nick did too. But at this point, he didn't care.
"Your project would be relatively simple yet interesting", Mr. Greene continued. "As you could see, I have this personalized DIY dictionary in my hand." He raised the slightly thick book for the whole class to see. "You would be doing something similar as this. But before that, what is the dictionary's purpose again?"
"It's for weed and cocaine purposes."
"In case you get hungry in the library."
"Lack of tissue papers."
"They make great paper airplanes."
"Great thing for hitting Wes with."
"Hey!"
Someone snorted. "We could probably hold a dictionary vs. gavel duel or something."
"Yeah! Something like the wizard duel in the Chamber of Secrets!"
"Totally! And then Snape would be Wes. Because he's so prissy and he has a gavel fetish."
"Hey!"
"Wait, so Snape had a wand fetish?"
"Probably, he has a fetish for Harry's wand, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, eew! I so did not need that image in my head."
"Everybody's gone gay for Harry anyway. Snape, Dumbledore, Malfoy—"
"Malfoy Senior or Malfoy Junior?"
"Both."
Somebody scoffed. "I KNEW IT! HARRY'S SUCH A MANWHORE."
"AHEM!" Mr. Greene did not particularly look amused with the whole direction of the conversation. He rolled his eyes at the pathetic immaturity of the lot. And then he focused on a single student he knew that was actually mature enough.
"Mr. Anderson", said student stood up. Mentally, the Professor found himself pondering about this famous Warbler's leading man's…questionable yet…convenient height. 'So much for maturity', he added as an afterthought.
"I do believe, that it's for searching the definition of the words your unfamiliar with, sir", Blaine finished with a smile. Hey, he wasn't called dapper!Blaine for nothing.
The older was seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Correct. And that's what you guys would be doing. Each of you would choose one word, be it an adjective, a verb, an adverb, or a noun, and you would give your own definition of the word. Be creative with this! Base your definition from your inspiration or experience or something! So all in all, you should have your own set of A-Z words."
"Then you put those in your makeshift dictionary. Design it—do what you want as long as it's presentable. Then think of your own name for your dictionary." As soon as he said the last word, the bell rang, indicating that indeed, it was already lunch time. "Class dismissed."
Lazily, Blaine dragged himself off to the cafeteria, paper and pen in hand. He considered beginning the shit-ass project that was given to them. He found himself as nice, empty table and then set off to begin his work.
"Really, Blaine? No lunch?" Wes appeared out of nowhere, and uninvited, sat down next to the shorter, clearly pushing his buttons.
"Maybe he's on a diet or something", David snorted. Blaine resisted the urge to stab the both of them with his pencil or David's fork or something. Maybe he should torture them slowly to death by hitting them with a spoon…Hmm…
"Well, Blaine, you better eat up. I can't have my lead Warbler passing out due to starvation."
"Please, as if he'll pass up his chance to finally sing Katy Perry."
Wes cringed, as if remembering some unpleasant memories. "You have a point there. I mean, he was not-so-subtly dropping such obvious hints in our Warbler meetings about doing a Katy Perry song."
"But we should feed him. You know, just in case." David smirked. "Now Blainey open up, say aaah—hey, ouch!" David cradled his injured hand in mock offence as Blaine slapped it when he was going to feed him.
Exasperated, the soloist rolled his eyes. "I'm not dieting. I'm actually getting started on this—this awful project we've been given." Honestly, Blaine wanted to curse so badly. But according to the dapper rules of his dapper handbook on dapperness, he was not allowed to curse—be it curse dapperly.
"That's great then." David commented. "So have you thought about any word? You'll be starting with A right?"
"Actually, no David", Blaine sighed, "the alphabet begins with the letter Z, that's why I'm starting with letter A. I'll be doing it backwards."
"Blaine!" Wes pretended to scold the other. "You should be proud that David has finally learned the alphabet!"
"Fuck the both of you guys." David mumbled.
"Oh, eew. Hell no. That'll be like, a threesome or something."
"Guys!"
"Right. Letter A". A minute of silence passed over the three of them as they thought of all the possible words that has something to do with the great Blaine Anderson. "Awkward?" David offered. "You are the epitome of all things awkward, after all."
"Your point being?"
"The tip of the iceberg", he grinned.
"No, David. Just…No", Wes shook his head sadly. "And please don't say adorable. I will hit you with my gavel with that."
That seems to shut him up for a minute. But just a minute. "Amusing then?"
Wes scoffed. Somehow, that insulted Blaine. But just a tiny bit. "Amusing? We find him amusing because he is our toy! Our source of amusement, David—totally not Blaine-is-amusing kind of sense. If I were to describe him…He's…hmmm…agreeable?"
"Remember the Miley Cyrus 'Can't be tamed' suggestion the week before?"
The other Asian winced. And then he grinned. "Adolescent."
That made the two of them (not Blaine, of course) crack up in a totally irritating, unnerving, and vexing manner. Suddenly, Blaine's hand itched at the spoon that David wasn't using. Who could blame him? He watched some short indie movie in YouTube last night about some guy being tortured to death in an extremely slow manner using an inefficient weapon—a spoon.
Oh, he never thought of it a possibility. Never until that particular moment.
"Oh! Oh! I know! I know!" David was nearly crying due to excessively laughing. "…Afro?" he whispered.
Did he just—of all things Katy Perry, he didn't—He heard right…right?
"Buuuurn", Wes taunted before he and David got into another round of laughter. "DAVID! DAVID! David, !"
Red with embarrassment (hey, his hair was a touchy subject); Blaine hastily scrawled something unto the piece of paper. "Shut up. I finally thought of something."
He pushed the paper at them so they could both read it. And because of Blaine's infamy upon his penmanship, both of the boys struggled to make out amongst what could be formed as a chicken's sad attempt to write.
Annoyance (n.)
-people, usually with a gavel fetish and a brother complex, who cause a great deal of amount of stress and insanity, causing others to commit suicide or homicide or both.
Wes and David frowned simultaneously.
"I do not have a gavel fetish", Wes grumbled. "Why does everybody keep spreading that rumor?"
"Well, you usually cry when you don't slam that gavel in one day. And the fact that you have created a Facebook fan page of your…your gavel."
"I do most certainly not have a brother complex", David pouted. "I'm an only child. And I do not have a brother or any sibling for that matter."
"I was actually talking about Wes."
"Oh", David paused. "Oh well. Yeah, I have a dependent complex on him."
Wes shook his head in a defeated manner. "Not cool, Blaine. " And then he looked at his watch. "Better hurry up though. Presentation begins in ten minutes." He, then, proceeded to stand up and along with David, put their lunch trays away.
The cafeteria was slowly diminishing its occupants. That's when Blaine decided to go to the library instead. It was a floor above the senior commons, after all.
The hallways were filled with excited students. Buzzes of ongoing talks and whispers and conversations of the rumored impromptu performance of Dalton's famous glee club, the Warblers, that was going to take place in the senior commons in a matter of few minutes filled the lead Warbler's ears.
Heart thumping with excitement (he was going to sing Katy fucking Perry!), he skipped his way down the stairs when he felt a hand tap his shoulder politely.
"Ex-excuse me", a soft-spoken, high-pitched voice said. That was odd, females weren't allowed in Dalton so—
When he turned around he was like—holy shit—because he felt as if he was in one of those cliché movies wherein the love-of-his life came waltzing right in and he was totally unprepared for the wind to be knocked out of him—or something.
He had to literally bite his tongue from asking 'Are you an angel?' or even utter a 'Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?' pick-up line. Pinching himself, he realized that this porcelain skinned, blue-green-gray eyed soft silky light brown haired cherub faced guy that was standing rightinfrontofhim was a human and not a heavenly angel God decided to send Blaine one because his life was so far, a living hell…And because heaven was overcrowded with angels already.
"May I ask you a question? I'm new around here." The angel spoke in his musical yet quiet voice.
Without a second thought, the lead soloist introduced himself. "My name's Blaine." And then he extended his hand, and to his surprise, the angel took it albeit hesitantly. OHMYGODHISSKINISSOSOFT.
"Kurt." The angel—Kurt, Blaine noted happily, smiled briefly at him. "So what is exactly going on in here?"
"The Warblers", he explained, "Every now and then they throw impromptu performances in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a while." He gave him a flirty smile.
"So wait, the glee club here is kind of cool?" Kurt narrowed his eyes in bewilderment. Blaine found it adorable.
"The Warblers are like rock stars", the curly haired singer was confused for a second as to why this angel was so surprised that their glee club was well-known. A short silence passed between the two: Kurt still gazing at him in disbelief, and Blaine staring at him with a stupid dopey grin on his face.
"Come on, I know a shortcut", he couldn't help himself. Shamelessly, he grabbed the pale boy's hand (how the hell was it so soft, anyway?) and they made a mad dash to the place.
All the while, Blaine made a mental note to update his English project later on (and maybe get Kurt's number.)
Angel \'ānjǝl\
(n.) – a porcelain skinned human being with glasz eyes and a high-pitched voice
(n.) – appears on stairways wearing leather and bondage shorts, takes disguise as a lost new student (who is in fact, an endearing spy underneath).
.ic \'ānjǝlik\, . \-ikǝl\ adj
. adv
'-naochie03-': Sucky summary. I might change it though. xD Might I comment on the part wherein Blaine and Kurt first met on the staircase? The way Blaine smiled at Kurt—ohmygod. He is such a dapper flirt! xDDD *headdesk*
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