Title: Survival
Rating: PG
Spoilers (if any): None
Warnings (if any): AU
Word Count: 3,071
Summary: The New Directions and The Warblers have been sent to Holly Holiday's Wonderful Wilderness World for a week to learn the arts of surviving and training for the outdoors. Things don't kick off to a great start and they all suspect its's going to be a long week.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee- I merely play with RM's creations. I also do not own any of the songs used in this fic.
The words "wilderness", "training" and "Kurt Hummel" should never be strung together in the same sentence.
That's what Kurt had scathingly and almost pityingly replied back to an energetic and vest-clad Mr Shue—who'd just told them they're going on a camping trip of all things.
"Oh, Kurt it'd be so much fun! Think of it guys!" their teacher had said, getting way too delighted over a wilderness expedition. "Late night camp fires, bonding time, fending for ourselves—I used to do it all the time when I was your age! It's fun and I know you'd love it!" he'd finished, swinging his marker pen at them in an encouraging manner.
"Someone must have given you the wrong dictionary, Mr Shue because no freaking way is that my definition of fun." Kurt countered and his words were met with various nods from other Glee members.
Mr Shue frowned and opened his mouth to speak again when Rachel Berry interrupted (Kurt inwardly sighed) with a determined, "I for one love going on camping trip with my Dads. Both of which are gay. My gay Dad's and I think it's a wonderful experience and I'm quite trained in the arts of camping and singing by the camp fire." She beamed at them and drew herself up to her full height as she stood by Mr Shue excitedly (still could get into Lord of The Rings though Kurt thought) and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Sorry, Mr Shue, but there's no way I'm sleeping outside on some skanky ground and not have access to clean water and sanitary environments." Santana quipped.
Mr Shue just frowned some more and then said quite firmly, "Too bad. I thought you all might do it willingly, but you have no choice anyway. Figgins is saying it's compulsory. You're all gonna have to go regardless."
The chorus of voices struggling to be heard- with the various, "Aw hell to the no, Mr Shue!", "I'd rather go back to juvie than go camping!", "How am I supposed to fit all my goth stuff in one suitcase?" and the whispered "I wonder if we'll see any unicorns in the forest" by Brittany- was quickly silenced by Mr Shue's "Enough!" The din died down.
"You're all going on this camping trip and you're going to like it, really." He sighed. "Look, I now you aren't excited now but wait 'til you're out there. You'll love it, just give it a chance!"
Kurt wasn't listening. Kurt was too busy trying to control the shrill mantra in his head that was saying quite loudly, how am I supposed to keep up my disciplined skin routine if I'm freaking camping? What am I going do about clothes? Toiletries? My hair? Oh God oh God . . .
He'd have to get out of it somehow. Fake an illness he hadn't already faked. Convince his Dad it was much more important of him too stay and look after him. What if something happened in the week he wasn't there because he was playing pally with Rachel Berry and harmonizing with a ukulele?
His Dad would see sense and would be willing to not let him go.
His Dad was all for it, of course. He'd thought it'd be fun for Kurt, and Burt had always enjoyed camping himself. Kurt had bit back a retort at how his Dad had also enjoyed trucker caps and bad country music as a kid (and still did now, to Kurt's small horror) but instead nodded and began to try and fit everything he'd need into one suitcase.
"You look like you're being asked to walk the green mile," Burt had chuckled, watching his son, who was morosely packing as though he was being sent to the gallows.
"It's the same thing isn't it?" Kurt had snapped.
Burt sighed. "I'm sure you'll love it. You need to be with your friends." He suddenly hugged Kurt and Kurt clung back, surprised. His Dad never denied Kurt affection, however awkwardly it was, but this was a bit unexpected. "I wouldn't tell you to go if I didn't think you'd enjoy it, Kurt. This isn't a punishment. I honestly think you'll like it. You never know; it might just be one of the most memorable things of your life."
Kurt felt a prickle at the words but just snorted fondly. "Yeah, right."
Burt patted his back awkwardly and then walked out of his bedroom. Kurt stared at the empty doorway for a moment before sighing.
The things I do for love. . .
The bus trip on the way to "Holly Holiday's Wonderful Wilderness World" (and that was just all kinds of lame) was already contradicting his father's words.
It had been hard enough trying to fit all of his clothes he wanted to takemostinto just one bag ("one bag Kurt, one" his father had said firmly) and then try and find space for all his hair and skin products. This—listening to the boys of New Directions sing awful 90's hits and the girls chatter aimlessly about their boy troubles—was not something he wanted. He'd rather be at home reading Vogue in bed then on a bus that smelled of bad sandwiches and gas.
The three hour ride had never felt so long.
Gaga have mercy on his soul.
Holly Holidays Wonderful Wilderness World (it didn't get any less lame no matter how many times he said it) was far, far worse than he could have predicted.
The entrance was tatty and made of a chipped and cracked wood that was stained from the continuous rain. The bus drove them through and Kurt stared, appalled, out of the dirty windows of the bus.
From what he could see, in one section was a fenced off park; there were jungle gyms and ropes and climbing frames that looked rusty and ready to crumble under the slightest touch.
In another section was a large, cleared out space surrounded by logs and stumps. In the centre of the oval-shaped space was what looked like charred dirt. No way was his McQueen going anywhere near that. The bus stopped about a foot away and Kurt couldn't take his eyes away from the horrific sight.
"This—is—awful." he hissed at Mercedes, who chuckled and smacked his shoulder lightly.
"It's got character." she said, and grinned when he rolled his eyes in disgust.
Rachel was the first one off of the bus and Kurt had long ago stopped retching over her outfit—lumber jacket and black leggings and appalling boots that looked about five sizes too big and a furry deer stalker cap—she looked like Sherlock Holmes in a bad trucker movie.
"Come on! We have to go explore! Think how fun this is going to be, you guys!" she chirruped and Kurt had every mind to run back onto the departing bus and crawl under the seats and hide until he was back in Ohio and away from this nightmare.
The New Directions traipsed over to the centre of the dirty land and converged around the logs and seemingly camp fire. Their bags were at their feet and Kurt couldn't get over how cold it was.
The door to a small, badly put together hut opposite where they were standing opened and from it emerged a tall, blonde woman who was smiling way too brightly given the circumstances, Kurt thought.
"Hey guys!" she crowed, enthusiasm coming off her in waves. She approached in tasteful khakis and a sweater. "Welcome to Holly Holiday's Wonderful Wilderness World! I'm Holly Holiday- and no, I didn't come up with the name!" she winked and grinned. Kurt just raised an eyebrow at the blonde bombshell and decided not to comment.
"I'm Will Shuester." Mr Shue stepped forward, hand outstretched. Holly simply batted his hand away and placed her fingers at his temples.
"Will . . . Will . . . Will . . ." she repeated quietly, staring into their startled teacher's eyes. New Directions exchanged looks and Kurt decided this woman was batshit crazy.
Holly grinned. "I have to do that to process who you are—I'm no good with names so I just remember the feel of people. Now I'll remember you forever!"
Mr Shue just stared still, a bit stunned.
Holly turned to them. "So who's ready to begin camping!" she did some weird hand movement enthusiastically and was met with half hearted cheers and an enthusiastic squeal from Rachel.
"Excellent! Well, to begin we gotta get you guys into cabins!" the grin on the blonde's face was now scary and Kurt felt frightened for some odd reason. "You've been sorted into cabins already and work groups and then pairs—that way we get to work all sorts of ways!"
"What exactly are we gonna be doing?" Finn asks, arms folded and hunched up.
"Trekking, mountain climbing, training programmes, survival tactics, you name it, we're doing it!" Holly sang and clapped her hands together. "There's another thing too."
Oh now it's going to get good, Kurt thought bitterly. She's going to tell us that the toilets don't work or something or that they don't have hot water—
"It's not just us here this week!" Holly beamed and winked again. "You'll be sharing this little holiday with two other groups! Both will be working with you on your various things here and some of them will even be sharing cabins with you! All about bonding, kids!"
New Directions stared at her, bewildered and put out.
No chance in hell, Kurt thought blandly. He wasn't staying with some unfamiliar kid for a week that would no doubt be a closeted homophobe and stress him out even more and wouldn't that just be the crappy icing on the already foul cake-?
"Can you guys hear something?" Sam suddenly said, his head turned towards the entrance that was hidden by thick trees.
Kurt listened.
A low melody was making its way to them and the low sound of clicking and a steady beat reverberated and around the silent camp. Voices were making sounds and melodies and they echoed pleasantly in the still air. Kurt listened intently and scrolled through his inner track list of songs from nearly every decade— they were singing Nsync and Phil Colins's version of Trashin' The Camp he believed. He almost laughed—it was wildly appropriate, and the owners of the melodic voices obviously agreed.
Whoever was signing it was good. It sounded like a whole crowd of voices and Kurt could pick out the individual beat boxing rhythm that only a human voice could make and the flow of the words.
Stamping and throwing their hands up in chorus, a group of casually dressed boys rounded the corner and emerged from the trees, all of them singing and laughing in harmony.
Kurt stared.
The leads were bouncing and high fiving each other enthusiastically, dancing and twirling and making random dance moves as they clapped and moved further towards them.
Kurt's eyes were drawn to the boy obviously in charge—he sang the main melody and seemed to be leading the group as they walked. He was short and bounced more than the rest and reminded him of a puppy or a five year old on E-numbers. Curly haired and harmonizing perfectly, he seemed to be grinning widest of them all.
The boys stopped when they saw the New Directions and the last of the melody faded away. They stood panting and still grinning broadly, facing New Directions with their bags slung over their shoulders.
Holly started clapping and laughing first; New Directions and Mr Shue followed suit and with a little laugh, the lead boy of the group gave a small bow and the others did the same.
"New Directions, these are the Warblers!" Holly cheered and clapped the short boy on the shoulder. "From Ohio like you but they go to school at Dalton Academy, I believe. How you guys doing?"
Kurt stared at the boys shrewdly. They looked friendly enough but then again, so did a bear right before it tore you to pieces.
Mr Shue stepped forward and offered his hand to the shorter boy. "I'm Mr Shue, coach of New Directions. I heard about you guys—you're Blaine right?"
"Blaine Anderson, sir." The boy called Blaine shook Mr Shue's hand and gave him a polite smile. He caught Kurt's eye suddenly and Kurt flushed before turning back to Holly.
"So who's ready to get camping?" Holly crowed, bounding round and throwing out high fives and fist bumps. "This is gonna be awesome! Now the other group won't be here until tomorrow, but we're gonna sort the cabins out now—unless you all wanna sleep out here tonight?" She winked and grinned and then pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket.
"Right, here goes-!" Holly began rattling off names and Kurt kept his fingers crossed inside his pockets that he'd end up sharing with Mercedes or Tina. It'd be just his luck . . .
Please not Rachel or someone I don't know. Please . . . Please . . .
"Kurt Hummel, Mercedes Jones-"
He relaxed his shoulders in relief. Mercedes hooked her arm through his and said quietly, "Looks like we lucked out, boy. Look at all those boys."
He rolled his eyes—but she had a point. The boys in question were all looking at New Directions curiously and Kurt's inner gay-dar was going wild at a few. Blaine Anderson? Gay.
"Okay, you're all sorted!" Holly smiled and started pointing out their cabins to them and when they should all come back here and where to put their bags and where the toilets are and showers. Kurt only half listens, more interested in when he can cleanse all this stale air out of his skin and take a nap and gossip with Mercedes.
It seemed that apparently the Glee members liked to mingle now, because as soon as Holly began talking privately with Mr Shue the intrigued New Directions moved forward and attached themselves to the Warblers. He could distinctly hear Rachel saying something about set lists and truces and cheating. He rolled his eyes and intended to wade in and save somebody from her when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned, Mercedes still hanging on his arm. The apparent lead singer, Blaine, stood smiling up at Kurt jovially. Mercedes looked between the two and carefully extracted herself from Kurt.
What is she doing, is she seriously leaving me alone with . . . Where are you going woman?
Mercedes excused herself with a giggled, "I'll go see where Tina is . . ." and left the two alone.
Kurt felt abandoned and a little like he was lost at sea and she was going to pay later. Pay with her life.
"Kurt, right?" Blaine said, holding out his hand.
Kurt stayed frozen, feeling completely humiliated and having no idea what to do.
Blaine lowered his hand. "Can I . . . Um— I . . . . Well, Kurt-"
Kurt raised an eyebrow and had a vague idea where this might be going. It was pretty obvious, anyway with what Kurt was wearing. He didn't mean to be so flamboyant, but he'd felt down and the only thing that truly perked him up these days was taking time finding an outfit and sorting out pieces and knowing he looked good in said outfits. "Are you trying to ask if I'm gay?"
Blaine smiled. "Maybe, yeah."
Kurt smiled properly and looked around so not to stare at Blaine. The merge of New Directions kids and Warblers hovered somewhere over by the logs and campfire and Kurt heard snatches of song and laughter. They were alone by the trees.
"So, happy you're here?" Blaine asked, somewhat awkwardly.
Kurt laughed. It sounded harsher than he meant. "Are you serious? They just about forced me to come. Like I'd really want to spend a week in the middle of nowhere acting like I'm in the Dark Ages!"
Blaine smirked a little. "Yeah well, I guess it'll be fun once you give it a chance. It depends how you look at it. I assume all the girls brought their best clothes and makeup expecting a holiday spa?" Blaine laughed.
Kurt sniffed. "I don't know about the holiday spa, but I don't see the harm in wanting to look good."
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? It's the wilderness, you're gonna get dirty—"
"But at least you're not looking horrendous while doing so."
"Oh come on, its simple logic. Like you're gonna wear fashionable things while crawling through mud-"
In some way, Kurt suspected Blaine was mocking him. And oh, no way was this seemingly uber polite gay guy going to mock him.
"At least try and be sensible. I mean, I get you might be seeking attention if it's anything by your stuck up attitude-"
"Stuck up? You don't know the first thing about me, you insufferable-" Kurt was turning red, he knew it. "Excuse me for taking pride in how I look—unlike you. Hello, the seventies called. They want their hipster crap back."
"Oh I'm sorry, Mr Priss. Excuse me for not wanting to make a damn fool of myself by looking like a cross between a tube of glitter and a chicken!"
"What would you know about fashion—again, have you seen what you're wearing Mr I—Try—To—Be-So—Masculine—To—Make—Up—For—My—Gay!" Kurt spat, crossing his arms.
"What, you expect me to look like some sparkly feather boa instead? Seriously, could you look any more ridiculous?" Blaine retorted, face screwed up.
"You know what looks ridiculous? A slap mark on your freaking cheek!" Kurt said shrilly, and then slapped Blaine.
The slap resounded through the now silent camp. Kurt turned on his heel and found every eye on the two of them. He simply sniffed haughtily and strode over to Mercedes. He gripped her by the arm, muttering murderous threats about her ruing the day and stormed to their cabin. He flung open the door and then disappeared inside. The slam echoed behind them.
His father had said this wasn't a punishment, but he felt drained and worn out already.
It was going to be a long week.
A/N: The amazing response to my first fic here was so encouraging- thank you to everyone who reviewed and favourited, I was so surprised and happy! It also gave me the courage (lul, look at me channeling Blaine) to post this an AU multi-chaptered fic I began writing on LJ after seeing an amazing prompt. It's AU because the Warblers and ND don't know each other- therefore, neither do Kurt and Blaine. I'm incredibly nervous about this because this usually isn't the sort of thing I write, but anyway. I'll stop with the long A/N. The song the Warblers are singing as they come in is "Trashin' The Camp" by Phil Colins and NSync.