Another Seblaine week story. This one written for McKinley Day. There are four parts planned for this, with parts 3&4 expected to be up, hopefully, in the next week or two.
Also I know that after SYH I promised a lot of people I was done with Klaine forever. Oops. (Although, all things considered there really isnt that much here.)
"You all can thank me later." Sugar's shrill voice cut through the quiet chatter of the choir room. She flounced her way into the room, tulle skirt fluttering around her. "After the way you treated me," she threw an angry glare at Mr. Schue, "I don't know why I'm being so kind to you."
"Please don't tell me she's coming back," groaned Puck.
"No, Puck. Sugar is not coming back," Mr. Schue got up to stand next to her. "But she did find us another new member."
"He's a family friend. From Paris. And just not good enough for my new, eliter group. But he should be fine for you sorry losers. " Sugar added with a flip of her hair. "You're welcome." She blew them all a kiss and turned on her heel and flounced back out.
"He and his family just moved here and I'm sure I can count on all of you to help make this an easy transition for him."
"I can help!" Kurt thrust his hand in the air, body practically quaking in excitement. "I do have some experience with transferring. Westerville isn't quite Pairs but it is like a whole different world."
"And if I recall, you're quite fluent in French," Mr. Schuester agreed with a nod, causing Kurt to flush, obviously pleased at the compliment. "Blaine, I'm sure the two of you can bond over learning to navigate McKinley's waters as well. But it will take all of us to make him feel like William McKinley High can be his home."
"So where is Fancypants McGee?" Puck asked, clearly unmoved by Mr. Schuester's speech.
"Well- I'm sure he'll be here any minute. In the mean time, let's get started on this week's assignment. Tina? You had something ready for us?"
Forty minutes later a boy with impossibly long legs wearing a striped rugby shirt and jeans came strolling in. "Sorry I'm late," he said in impeccable English and not looking even the slightest bit apologetic. "There are some things that needed attending."
"Of course!" Mr Schuester jumped up. "You must be Sebastian?" He seemed as confused by the lack of accent as the rest of them did.
With a look that was half concern, half thinly veiled disgust, Sebastian took a step back to keep his personal space from being encroached on (and really, Mr. Shchuester idea of what constituted acceptable personal space was something that took getting used to) and sharply nodded his head in confirmation.
"Do you have an audition piece ready for us? Or would you like more time to prepare? I know how crazy moving can be-"
"Preparation is my middle name," Sebastian said with a devilish smirk that they shortly learned to recognize as his signature facial expression.
"Dude don't sound very French," muttered Artie as Sebastian got ready to begin his audition which only seemed to cause the new boy's smirk to grow.
Standing in the center of the room, Sebastian began whistling out of the corner of his mouth and tapping his foot to lay out the rhythm of the song.
Un SMS vient d'arriver, j'ai 18 ans,
Envolée ma virginité, je suis plus un enfant.
L'horloge tourne, les minutes sont torrides
Et moi je rêve d'accélérer le temps.
As he sang, he danced around. The steps were relatively simple (although still more complicated than most of the McKinley kids seemed like they would be able to manage) but he weaved them together in an impressively intricate way that complimented the simplicity of the song.
Technically, Sebastian wasn't the greatest singer. His range wasn't abundantly impressive, although it was decent enough and he'd clearly hadn't had any training.
But he could perform.
Even without any form of background music and the room's general inability to understand what he was saying, everyone was captivated. Even Puck looked like he was begrudgingly enjoying himself: although he quickly schooled his expression to one of disinterest as soon as the song ended.
By the time Sebastian sank down into his seat to the resounding applause of the group, Blaine's entire body was covered in goose bumps.
When Mr. Schuester dismissed them twenty minutes later, Kurt eagerly scrambled down from his seat to plant himself in front of the rather alarmed looking newcomer.
"Bonjour," he said proudly, not wanting his opportunity to speak French to go to waste. "Je m'appelle Kurt. Bienvenue à McKinley."
Sebastian's eyes dragged from Kurt's outstretched hand, up and down his body. His responding smile looked more like a grimace as he said, "Ne plus jamais parler français. Jamais. Ton accent est aussi horrible que tes habits."
Immediately the bright smile disappeared from Kurt's face and instead he looked as if he had just been slapped. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked smugly pleased with himself as he swung his bag over his shoulder and stalked from the room.
"What did he say?" Blaine asked quietly. He barely knew enough French to understand Kurt's simple introduction and Sebastian had been speaking much to quickly and fluidly for him to pick out so much as a syllable.
"No-nothing." Kurt shook his head, cheeks still painted red in embarrassment.
"Kurt." Blaine gave him a look that told him he wasn't even remotely convinced. He was used to the strong facade his boyfriend liked to put on. Maybe it fooled the rest of the world, but it didn't fool him.
"No, really." Kurt's voice was still higher than normal and his back was ramrod straight. "He just offered to help me improve my accent."
Blaine still wasn't quite sure he believe him. "If you're sure..."
"Positive." Kurt smiled reassuringly and took Blaine's hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go and turning to laugh at something Mercedes had said.
xx
Despite the excitement at his audition, it took a week for the glee club to declare Sebastian Smythe the worst thing that had ever happened to them. He was, according to Tina, a combination of Sue, Santana, and Rachel in all the worst ways possible. Kurt, still upset at the way his French speaking abilities had been called into question, seemed convinced he was the devil incarnate and Rachel had the suspicion that he was secretly working for the Cheerios because he was supposedly seen 'cavorting' with Santana between 3rd and 4th period 'and we know he's good at dancing. What if he joins them?'
Blaine had three classes with the newest member of the New Directions. Although Sebastian couldn't exactly be described as nice in any of them, he was nowhere near as obnoxiously outspoken outside of the choir room. (Although Blaine found himself less annoyed than everyone else seemed to. Sure, Sebastian could have been less insulting when he spoke up during glee, but he actually made a lot of valid points about the general disorganization and petty squabbling that took place during rehearsal time.)
And he, apparently, wasn't the only one who thought Sebastian was at least an okay guy. Sebastian seemed to have made a few friends, jocks of some sort. Not the slushy throwing ones that they had all warned him to avoid during his first week, but some other team that Blaine didn't recognize. And although Sebastian spent a lot of the class goofing off with them, he always seemed to have an intelligent answer when he was called on.
Sebastian had also developed the disconcerting habit of winking at Blaine whenever he passed him in the halls, making it especially pronounced if Kurt was with him. Blaine really didn't know what to make of it. It seemed a bit far to go just to bait Kurt (although it was a very effective method) based on the amount of snarling Kurt did as soon as he caught sight of Sebastian.
"-and the way he always talks about Paris. I don't know who he's trying to impress with that, but it's not working," Rachel ranted over her salad, glaring across the cafeteria to where Sebastian was sitting with his friends.
"I think he just misses it," Blaine replied without thinking. Immediately Rachel and Kurt whipped around to give him twin glares. "Or maybe not." He didn't dare mention the distant look he was pretty sure Sebastian got whenever he boasted about his old life. It echoed the feeling Blaine got whenever he thought about Westerville, wondering what the Warblers were up to and whether Nick would finally be given a solo at Sectionals that he definitely deserved and if Jon was actually making it to class on time without him there to wake him up.
"Like Sebastian Smythe has feelings." Tina rolled her eyes while everyone else heartily voiced their agreement.
xx
About twice a week Blaine stayed after glee to make use of McKinley's gym. He'd spend about half an hour on the punching bag and then he'd run a few laps, either around the gym or out on the track, depending on the weather and how late it was. Those few hours were probably the most relaxing of his week.
There was nothing quite as satisfying as the burn of well worked muscles, he thought to himself as lazily stretched out his legs using one of the benches in the locker room. He had just finished and was searching through his gym bag for his phone when he thought he heard something.
"Hello?" Blaine called out, setting his bag down on the aisle bench as a pained moaning echoed through the empty room. It was rare for anyone else to still be there by the time he finished, normally Coach Bieste and the janitor were the only people he saw.
At the sound of another groan, he grabbed his cell phone from his bag, just in case he need to call for help, and carefully followed the noise back to the showers.
"Is everything okay? Do you need any help?" He tried again. There were a million reasons why someone would be alone and in pain in a locker room. Most of the jocks at McKinley were probably too beefheaded to want to admit that they were injured in front of their teammates. It was probably nothing more than a twisted ankle, or an overstretched muscle or-
"I told you to keep it down," a voice hissed , just barely audible above the spray of the shower. He was still too far away to make out the murmured response but a second later the first voice laughed before saying "Just shut up for a minute and I'm sure he'll go away. Then we can pick up where we left off."
There was another whimper and Blaine knew he couldn't just walk away. Steeling up his nerves he took another step forward.
"If you don't come out now, I'm going to call the police," he said much more confidently than he felt. "My phone is in my hand and I already have the number dialled in."
The sounds of a frantic scrambled and a muttered 'fucking Christ' bounced off the tiled walls and then a rather tall and very, very naked body was sliding itself through the barely cracked door.
"Sebastian?" Blaine choked out, eyes definitely not following the drops of water as they fell from his hair and merrily chased their way from his collarbone, down his well defined chest, and across the plains of his abdominal muscles before-
"Blaine?" Sebastian asked, equally as shocked. Although his surprise, unlike Blaine's, was not long lasting. "Something I can help you with? I was kind of in the middle of something."
"Wha-? I was just- and. Umm. I-I thought I heard something? And just wanted t-t-to make sure everything was. You know, okay?" He babbled. And if he thought Sebastian's bare chest was distracted, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to his obscenely red and swollen lips or the tile patterned bruises that were forming on his knees.
There was also the fact that he wasn't even attempting to do anything to hide his erection.
"Everything is peachy," Sebastian replied smugly. Finally, Blaine tore his eyes away from the guy in front of him and skittered over to the closed stall door as he tried not to imagine who was behind it.
"And your... friend? He's... okay too?"
"I imagine he's feeling a little frustrated at the moment, but nothing that I can't relieve him of once you leave. Unless," he stepped aside and gestured to the door, "you'd like to join us?"
Whoever was behind there squeaked.
Suddenly the gratuitous winking made a lot more sense.
"Right. O-of course. I mean, no. Thank you. I. Kurt and... I'll just be- My mom's expecting me home for dinner." He couldn't remember ever having run away from anything so quickly in his life.
When he got to school the next morning it was to find Sebastian leaning up against his locker. Despite the fact that his clothes were far from form fitting, Blaine could still imagine every inch of toned muscle that was being concealed.
Not that he was. But, conceivably, he could. Just to be safe, he made a point of not looking anywhere but this face.
"Have a good dinner last night, killer? Mommy make something good?"
"It was just a stir fry. Chicken," he muttered, ducking his head into Kurt's chest as his boyfriend looked on in confusion. It really had been too much to hope that Sebastian would forget about his departing comment.
"Sounds delicious."
"It was." Suddenly he was struck by a bought of confidence he hadn't felt since he transferred and he couldn't resist looking back up to meet Sebastian's eyes and saying, "but I'm sure nowhere near as good as what you had last night."
He had a second to enjoy the slack-jawed expression of surprise on Sebastian's face before it flickered back into its normal state of smugness.
"Touché, Anderson," he said, bowing his head in mock respect. "This school might not be so bad after all." Offering up a last smile that bordered on lecherous, he hurried up the hallway to meet up with his lacrosse buddies.
"What was that all about?" Kurt hissed as they watched him disappear around the corner. He was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest, and glaring like Sebastian had personally been in charge of the destruction of his McQueen scarf collection.
Hastily Blaine shoved his English binder into his locker and replaced it with chemistry textbook. "H'mm? Oh," he gave his head a little shake. Now that the moment had passed he was embarrassed by how forward he had been. He barely knew Sebastian and it was completely inappropriate to be teasing him about his sex life like that, even if he should have done a better job to make sure his activities remained a little more private. "It's nothing. I ran into him on the way home yesterday. I found out about his surprising passion for food."
Kurt made a strangled noise of questioning disbelief but thankfully didn't push it any further. "Have you thought about what you're going to do for your audition yet? They start in next week and I still can't decide."
"I was going to work on it this weekend. Maybe we can watch the movie for inspiration? My parents will be out all day Saturday." He let the implication of what else that could mean hang heavy in the air between them.
"I can't wait. I haven't watched West Side Story in ages" Kurt smiled at him, soft and loving but without a hint that he had clued into what else Blaine had been suggesting.
Before he could offer more hints, the shrill ringing of the bell interrupted them. Briefly he let their hands brush together before shutting his locker with a sigh and heading off to Chemistry.
xx
Being at McKinley was nothing like Blaine had expected it to be. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't really had any expectations because he'd barely thought about actually transferring until the papers were in his hands and he was pleading his case to his parents. He had known it wouldn't be like Dalton, had known what Kurt had gone through the year before, and had known he should probably expect similar treatment.
But he had hoped that, despite everything, he would at least have the glee club by his side.
Instead they were too busy bickering and feuding with each other to notice him, unless Finn was making yet another comment meant to put him down and remind him, exactly, how far from home he was and how unappreciated his opinions were.
Kurt never said anything and he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt a little. Obviously, Kurt had things of his own to be dealing with and it wasn't like Blaine needed him to fight his battles for him. But just a brief glimmer of acknowledgment from his boyfriend that Finn was, occasionally, out of line and that the things Blaine said mattered at least a little, would have been appreciated.
Of course, where Kurt chose to be silent (and Blaine chose to believe it was his choice. Because the only thing that would have been worse than his boyfriend wilfully remaining quiet would be if he didn't even know how hurt Blaine was) Sebastian opted to speak up in spades. His retorts flipped from either questioning Finn's general intelligence and ability in bed more than actually validating what Blaine had said, to praising Blaine in excessive.
(Blaine did draw some lines to his friend's somewhat unorthodox tactics of getting his point across. When he found out that Sebastian had photoshopped some rather questionable and inappropriate pictures of Finn that he planned to use to blackmail their captain so that Blaine would have a solo for Sectionals he had immediately gone to him and told him in no uncertain terms that they were not to be distributed and, if they were, he would not only refuse the solo, but drop out of New Directions altogether. He'd also made mention of the fact that Finn was still underage and blushingly stuttered through the words 'child pornography'.)
Whenever they were in the same room, Blaine could always feel Sebastian's eyes on him; seeing him. It was nice, the way Sebastian made him feel. Like he was an actual person and not just Kurt's boyfriend, or a spy for the Warblers, or some interloper who had come to usurp someone else's well-earned position.
But it didn't mean anything. He had just met Sebastian and Blaine had Kurt and he loved him more than he had ever loved anyone. He just craved attention, a flaw of his that had always bothered him. It wasn't like he needed it 24/7 or anything. But he had gone from being the golden boy of Dalton to absolutely no one with no real friends and a boyfriend who was running for class president, planning out his future, and auditioning for the lead in the school musical.
He felt like he spent 90% of his time being invisible.
So what if Sebastian made him remember that he wasn't. It didn't mean anything. Sebastian didn't mean anything. He couldn't.