Metamorphosis Chapter 2: The Spread of Wings, a glee fanfic

Kurt shuttled Sam into the choir room, after securing a pass from Pillsbury, whom they had run into in the hall, which would excuse the boy from his first period study hall and delivering it to Mr. Combs, the monitor. Although rehearsal was not set to start for a few minutes, they were the last to arrive and Kurt could feel Sam tense up at the sea of unfamiliar faces. He gently placed a hand against the small of Sam's back, relieved when the other boy again began to breathe.

Finn was immediately on alert. Who the hell was this Ken doll and why was Kurt touching him? Didn't the boy know Kurt was gay? Didn't he know what would happen to both of them if the wrong people saw them together? His most distressing thought, however, was that this other boy might be like Kurt. Might be gay. Might have wanted Kurt to touch him. Might like Kurt back.

He tightened his jaw and threw a vicious glare at the stranger, who simply looked confused. Why wasn't Blondie scared of him? Well, he'd learn soon enough. Finn was not about to let some yahoo cracker hurt Kurt.

Sam took a good look at Finn and thought the dude probably bled vinegar and water, immediately dismissing him from his mind, though he moved closer to Kurt just to piss the guy off even more.

"Kurt?"

"Good morning, Mr. Schuester," the boy said formally. "This is Sam Evans, our new transfer student. I'm his Peer Mentor and am showing around McKinley. He has expressed curiosity about Glee Club so, with your permission, I thought he might sit in on our practice to determine if he has an interest in joining us."

Will nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Welcome, Sam! And thank you, Kurt, for reaching out to tell other students about New Directions." He sent a pointed look at the other members, who either shifted uncomfortably in their seats or rolled their eyes.

Kurt nodded as Will and Sam exchanged pleasantries.

"I signed up for that program," Santana complained. "How come Trout Pout wasn't assigned to me?"

"I would imagine because Ms. Pillsbury didn't consider a detailed guided tour of the school's janitorial closets to be an efficient use of time," Kurt drawled.

She snickered.

Rachel shot to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at Sam. "He could be a spy!"

"Sam," Kurt said calmly, "please allow me to introduce you to Rachel Berry, the co-captain of New Directions."

Sam's eyes widened and he turned toward Kurt. "Seriously?"

"Way to roll out the welcome mat, Berry," Quinn hissed.

Santana snorted. "She saves that for Finn and the foot of her bed."

"Santana," Kurt said before Will could scold her.

She huffed and made puppy eyes at him until his lips twitched. Satisfied, she crossed her arms across her chest and kicked back in her chair.

Will observed this with fascination.

"I would apologize for Rachel," Kurt said to Sam, "but she's always like this."

Several people sighed, nodded, or both.

"He really could be a spy!" the girl insisted.

Kurt bit his lip forcefully in a painful bid to hold his silence.

"Say it," Tina said through gritted teeth. "Whatever you were you were going to say, Kurt, say it, or she'll just keep going."

Kurt sighed and shot a look of apology at Will, who appeared perplexed.

"Rachel, in case you missed my announcement – which wouldn't be surprising, as you rarely consider the words of anyone other than yourself – Sam is a transfer student from Tennessee. That is, he will be attending McKinley for the next two years. This is a high school, Rachel, not Cloak and Dagger. I would ask you to remove your head from your behind, but we might all be killed by the resulting sonic boom."

Puck and Santana burst out laughing, as did Artie and Mike, who then glared at each other.

Rachel gaped as her entire face turned beet red.

"Kurt," Will warned.

The boy held up a hand. "I apologize, both to you and Rachel. I was out of line; but you must admit that she was, as well. We are in need of a twelfth member to qualify for Sectionals. I discussed this with Sam, who was intrigued and graciously agreed to consider joining our club. Rachel was rude, combative, and unwelcoming to a new student. This attitude will in no way help us recruit new members."

For some reason, those words hurt Rachel more deeply than his insult.

Will slowly nodded. "I agree. Rachel, I understand your concerns, and they are legitimate, but hurling baseless accusations is not only obnoxious, but poor sportsmanship. Please apologize to Sam."

She huffed and stormed out of the room, purposefully knocking into Kurt, who fell to the floor.

"Kurt!" both Sam and Finn yelled.

Finn jumped to his feet to help his friend, only to be frustrated when Kurt was already safe in Sam's arms.

"Thank you, Sam," Kurt said to the boy as he stood, before nodding at Finn. "Thank you, Finn."

"Are you all right, Kurt?" Will softly asked.

"I'm just fine, thank you. Sam, please don't judge us all by Rachel's behavior or my interaction with her. We simply don't get along very well. She will return in five minutes and apologize, and will probably give you cookies tomorrow. Admittedly, her I'm Sorry cookies are delicious."

Sam blinked. "Is she crazy?"

"Yes," several chorused.

"No," Finn said in a small voice.

"Mr. Schuester," Kurt began, "perhaps it would be best to introduce Sam to the other members while I catch my breath."

Will nodded uneasily and led Sam over to the front of the risers as Kurt gingerly deposited himself in a chair.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked a concerned Mike.

Kurt smiled. "I'm fine. I was just surprised and had the wind knocked out of me. I should apologize to her again. I often let her get the best of me, to both of our detriments."

Mike shook his head. "Kurt, she was really out of line. You only said what the rest of us were thinking. She's not always right, and she needs to learn that."

Kurt was astonished. "Thank you, Mike," he finally whispered.

The other boy nodded kindly.

Kurt noted Mercedes' worried expression, as well as the fact that her stubborn pride would not allow her to walk over and inquire after him. He sighed. He glanced at Santana, who was glaring at the door with rancor. He caught her eye and subtly shook his head. She rolled her eyes and dismissed him. He sighed again, knowing that she would do something to avenge him to Rachel and would not be dissuaded from whatever action she had planned.

The next thing he noticed was that Sam had taken a seat next to him and had placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave the boy a weak smile and then he felt a hand on his other shoulder. He looked up into Will's eyes.

"Okay?"

Kurt nodded and discreetly shrugged the hand off.

Will sighed and crossed over to the front of the room.

"Oh," Kurt said, startled out of contemplation, "Mr. Schuester, I told Sam that he wouldn't be expected to perform today. I sprung this on him, and he's unprepared."

Will nodded. "That's fine, Kurt. Sam, you're welcome to return this afternoon or tomorrow to audition, if you're so inclined."

Sam blushed. "I could do it now, if you'd like."

Will's brows rose. "If you're certain, we'd be glad to listen. Unfortunately, the jazz band isn't joining us today, so you'll have to sing acapella."

Sam stood and looked around nervously.

"You've got this," said a confident Kurt.

Sam smiled down at him before approaching Puck. "Dude, could I borrow your guitar?"

Puck quirked an eyebrow, considered the request, and finally shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"Thanks."

"Whatever."

Sam, guitar in hand, moved over to stand next to Will, who shuffled back toward the wall. "Um, does anyone play piano?"

"I do," Kurt said.

Sam beamed. "Care to accompany me?"

"Of course," Kurt nodded, standing and walking over toward him. "What will you be singing? I want to make sure I'm familiar with it."

Sam leaned over and whispered into his ear.

Kurt blinked. "Outstanding."

Sam's mouth fell open. "You really know it?"

Kurt winked. "Don't judge a gay by his stunning wardrobe."

Sam, and several others, burst out laughing.

Kurt then took his place behind the piano, waiting for Sam's signal.

Sam cleared his throat several times and rolled his neck in an effort to loosen himself up. Finally, he nodded at Kurt, who began playing the opening measures. Sam was surprised that Kurt had selected the right key without being told his preference. Wow.

"Ever since I lost you, baby," Sam softly sang, looking at the floor, "I've been here and there, looking for some peace of mind. Can't find it anywhere."

Sam's voice was gentle, Kurt thought, neither weak nor strong, but pleasant and refreshing, like an autumn breeze. There was a crispness he greatly enjoyed. Sam's phrasing and diction were flawless, which wasn't always the case with many country songs, but Sam was paying due homage to the original artist, Trisha Yearwood, for whom Kurt had always felt a deep appreciation. He believed she would have been pleased by Sam's interpretation.

He hated this song as much as he adored it. Despite its romantic implications, it reminded him painfully of his mother. She had been much on his mind lately. He didn't think he'd ever get over her death. He wasn't even sure he wanted to try. Holding on to the pain for some reason allowed him to hold even more tightly to her, though he knew it was unhealthy. He just didn't care.

"I went down to Tunica, played me a little blackjack. Saw a wino on the corner, gave my winnings back."

Will was surprised, happily so. Sam was so far proving to be a great find, and he made a mental note to congratulate and thank Kurt once again for bringing Sam to their attention. He leaned back against the chair and decided simply to enjoy the performance. He could only hope Sam would agree to join New Directions. He also had a feeling that Kurt would play an important role in that decision.

Santana fought to pay attention. Hot Lips was adorable and had a sweet voice, but she was more concerned with Berry and how to pay the bitch back for going after Kurt. That shit was just not on, and she wasn't going to abide it. She had been sick of Rachel last year, hogging all of the solos and disparaging the talent of everyone else. Santana knew that she herself was one of the better singers in the club, and while she might not be putting out CDs anytime soon, Kurt and Mercedes were easily in Rachel's league, if not beyond it. So if the girl thought they'd spend another year placating and deferring to her every whim, she was in for a rude awakening.

"If it was just money, baby, I could make it," Sam continued, entering the chorus and raising his gaze to stare sightlessly above the heads of the people before him, "but living without you, can I take it? All I see ahead of me is just melancholy blue."

Quinn felt her heart melting into a puddle of warm happiness, despite the inherent despair of the song. Sam had a beautiful voice, in her opinion, and she would never miss the opportunity to hear Kurt play. He always infused so much passion into his performances, whether vocal or instrumental. His fingers became the music, adding layers of feeling even to the most emotional of songs. Brad was a gifted pianist, but it sometimes sounded as though he were playing by rote, completely divorced from the song's meaning. He just didn't possess Kurt's ardor.

Finn squirmed in his seat. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Sam was good. Very good. He didn't know if Sam was as good as him, since Sam was singing in a different key. Sam's voice was clearer, he thought, more nuanced. It was probably a good thing Rachel had left. Had she stayed, she would have gotten ideas. He was really mad at her. Okay, so maybe Kurt had been a little over the top, but he was Kurt and he had apologized, and Rachel had been a complete bitch to both Kurt and Sam for no good reason he could discern. And then just pushing Kurt over like he was in her way or something. What the hell? Not cool.

Tina was sitting with her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, as she listened to the beautiful ballad. She could tell from the accompaniment that it was a country song, a genre with which she wasn't very familiar. She liked some country songs, mostly the ones that crossed over to the pop charts. She would ask Sam or Kurt after the performance for the name of the original artist and look them up on iTunes. She figured whoever they were had to be very good, or they wouldn't have come to Kurt's attention. As eclectic and varied as his musical tastes were, he was also picky and generally avoided trash. She also thought there was some kind of energy between Sam and Kurt. She couldn't be positive, of course, but she liked it. She'd have to keep a close eye on them if Sam ended up joining the club.

"'Cause I ain't got no future without you," Sam sang, his voice tender and ringing with sorrow.

Artie didn't know why Sam had chosen this song, only that it must have meant something deeply personal to him. The lyrics were stark and beguiling, as he found a lot of country music to be. There was something about the genre that produced songs which immediately drew one's attention and encouraged them to invest in it. Many country songs were musical stories, giving voice to universal emotions in a particular yet thoughtful way.

He was trying very hard not to cry. Few people other than Kurt and Tina knew of his obsession with ballads, of how they were unable to unlock him from the darker emotions he tried so hard to suppress. He would listen to them for hours, finding comfort and release in their pain and despair. Though they weren't an exact fit, the lyrics reminded him of his relationship with Tina. He didn't know how he was going to live without her, even though he was now, apparently, dating Brittany, for whom he cared a great deal. But she wasn't Tina. He knew he wasn't a very romantic guy. He tried, he did, and it wasn't as though he was a soulless automaton. He had just never discovered how to verbalize the turbulent emotions that swirled within him on a minute-by-minute basis. So he shut them away and tried not to consider them.

Puck thought the song was pretty, so therefore he pretty much hated it. That said, New Kid could play the guitar pretty damn well, and it'd be nice to have another dude like that in the club. Of course that also meant Sam was just more competition for solos Puck himself would never get, but he wasn't too pressed. He actually didn't give much of a shit about solos. He just liked to campaign for them because it pissed Rachel off and made Finn feel insecure, which was, like, the most awesome double play ever.

Except for when he had simultaneously nailed Santana and Olivia Parker. That'd been hot.

Also hot was the chemistry between New Kid and Princess. They were giving off some seriously sexy vibes in his opinion. He wouldn't be averse to watching them fuck. Hell, given how tasty the Princess was looking, he'd join in. But just for one night. One night of gay sex didn't make you gay. He'd read that somewhere. On a men's room wall, he thought.

"I went down to Austin, lots of beautiful people there," Sam crooned. "Could have had a better adventure," he shrugged, "I just didn't care."

Brittany thought Sam was hot, kind of like a mix between Puck and Finn, but blond. Still, he wasn't as hot as Kurt. No one was as hot as Kurt in her eyes, except for Santana, but that was different because Santana was a girl. Despite what some idiots thought, Kurt was very much a boy. She knew from first-hand experience.

She wondered if Sam was a dolphin, because he and Kurt would look really beautiful if they were sweaty and naked and moaning, their arms and legs entangled. Maybe Sam was half-dolphin like she and Santana were? That would be neat. Then she and Kurt could play Sammy-in-the-Middle. Suddenly her panties were wet. That was weird. She decided to enjoy the feeling and quietly went somewhere else in her head, taking derivates of polynomial functions.

"Got a job in California, they sure liked my style." Sam's projection increased, his voice purposefully breaking on the last syllable. "But there's somethin' 'bout that California sun. It reminds me of your smile."

Rachel quietly reentered the room, shame plain on her face, unsurprised to see the furious glares of Santana and Mercedes immediately fall upon her. She swallowed heavily, castigating herself for being ridiculous and offending someone she didn't even know, as well as physically assaulting one of her fellow club members, someone she had hoped she might one day call a friend. Kurt had been mean but right. She hadn't meant to run into him so hard, but as she pushed past him, she had heard him fall to the floor and, mortified, she'd fled, rather than stop to apologize and help him.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to drown herself in the song. Sam had a nice voice. She would need to hear several more performances before she reached an informed opinion, but his tone would be an excellent addition to the club if he could be convinced to join, which might not be possible after she had gone all Xena, Warrior Princess on his ass. Well, more like Callisto.

"If it was just money, baby,…"

Everyone, including Sam, startled when Kurt joined in on the reprise of the chorus, matching Sam note for note, only one octave above Sam's own. He wasn't creating a harmony, but a hauntingly gorgeous interplay on the melody, his voice high and so clear that it ricocheted around the room, yet he somehow managed to keep himself from overpowering Sam's vocals.

Sam almost lost his pacing as he turned to glance over his shoulder, his own eyes filling as he saw the tears slipping down Kurt's cheeks. He was going to do everything in his power to show Kurt his appreciation and amazement for his generosity and ability.

"…I could make it. But living without you, can I take it? All I see ahead of me is just melancholy blue. 'Cause I ain't got no future without you," they sang, in perfect sync.

Sam took a deep breath, Kurt's masterful fingers dancing up the piano as they approached the bridge and crescendo.

"Now and then, I go back to Biloxi whenever I feel brave. Visit that little country church down there…"

Sam poured power into his voice, tightening his vibrato and slightly adjusting his tone to make it fuller, warmer, so that he could keep up with Kurt rather than forcing the other boy to hold back. Kurt stunned him once more by somehow knowing what he was about to do and yet again matching him.

And it was perfect. They were perfect.

Rachel gasped softly and covered her mouth with a hand.

Kurt and Sam then simultaneously stopped playing their respective instruments.

"Lay some flowers on your grave," Sam sang in a whisper, though it carried, as he once again stared down at the floor, his bangs falling into his eyes.

Quinn's own eyes watered, as did those of Mercedes.

"Wow," Mike breathed, eyes wide.

Sam and Kurt then resumed their playing and Sam once again took over the vocals.

"You sure got a hold on me, I don't know what to do. I ain't got no future."

He looked up and again stared straight ahead. "I can't see my future," he sang, wailing the third word and closing his eyes.

The instrumental again stopped as Sam's eyes snapped open.

"Without you."

Kurt performed the dénouement, somehow managing to infuse the notes with longing and anguish, but also with a finality that was as striking as it was depressing.

When it was over, Kurt nimbly hopped off the piano bench and came to stand next to Sam, who was surprised there were no tears on the boy's cheeks. There wasn't even a trace that he had been crying.

The audience stared at them for a long moment.

"Hell yes!" Mercedes suddenly screamed.

Then all of them were on their feet applauding, hooting and hollering, and wolf-whistling. Even Puck, who figured, what the hell?

Kurt looked over at Sam and smiled. "You're fantastic."

Sam blushed heavily but beamed. "Thanks, but what about you? Dude, your piano skills are sick! That was better than the original recording!" His eyes appeared to lose focus. "And your voice," he said softly. "You're incredible."

Kurt flushed and turned away, though he had a small, pleased grin on his face.

Quinn and Santana shared a smirk. Oh, yeah. Hevans was so on. Or it would be, before they got finished with them.

Finn felt something clawing in his stomach, like those dying people in Aliens. He knew he should go over there to welcome Sam and congratulate Kurt, but he just couldn't. He didn't know why, but his feet simply refused to move.

"Guys, that was phenomenal!" raved a rather teary Will, standing behind both boys. "Truly an impressive performance. What a way to start off the new term!" He paused as Kurt and Sam mumbled their thanks. "Sam, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd love for you to join New Directions."

"Thanks," Sam repeated, ducking his head. "Can I take the night to think about it? I'd like to see some of the others perform, just to gauge how well I'd fit in here, and talk it over with my parents. Even if you can't use my voice, I'd be happy to play guitar if anyone needs me to."

Will blinked. Was this kid serious? Not use his voice? "Of course," he said, somewhat stiltedly. "It's always good to think things over before committing yourself to anything. I would, however, appreciate it if you could let me know for sure by tomorrow."

Sam nodded.

"That's fine," Will said, smiling brightly and, he hoped, winningly. He turned back toward the piano and began shuffling through sheet music, already planning out numbers that would feature both Sam and Kurt. He didn't know where the hell Kurt had been hiding that voice – he'd thought he had known everything Kurt could do – but he wanted more of it, especially for competition.

Rachel slowly walked forward and stared deeply into Kurt's eyes. He looked back with equal focus.

"Bygones," he finally said.

She smiled tearfully. "Thank you. And my apologies, Sam. There was an incident last year that has, unfortunately, made me incredibly paranoid and hesitant to…"

"I accept," Sam said, smiling and cutting her off.

She nodded sheepishly. "You really have been practicing," she said softly to Kurt. "You were spectacular."

Kurt softened and nodded once. "Thank you, Rachel. It means a lot to me that you think so. I've been training all summer."

She frowned, alarm bells sounding off in her head. "Training."

"I received several weeks of private instruction and have been practicing on my own throughout the summer."

"Where did you train?" she asked meekly, fearful of the answer.

"Rome."

Sweat broke out across her forehead. "That's nice," she said, trying and failing for nonchalance, completely bewildered by the fact that Kurt had mentioned this only in passing, as if it were nothing remarkable. Nor was he rubbing it in her face.

That could only mean that his training had been successful, that his confidence in his own ability had only grown, that he had probably mastered vocal techniques that were far beyond her current training and level of skill, and that he would be her greatest competition, more so than he had already been. Even more upsetting was that he didn't appear to consider her competition at all.

Last year, Kurt's arrogance had been galling. Now, his confidence was terrifying.

But the worst possibility was that Kurt was simply no longer interested in competing with her. That would be horrible. She depended on their rivalry; she thrived on it. His constant challenges had driven her to be better, to achieve more than she had believed she could, despite her own irrepressible confidence. She needed Kurt to force her to prove herself. She needed his approval.

But what if he no longer needed hers?

"Anywhere in particular?" she asked, voice shaky.

"Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia."

They all turned as Will choked, the sheet music falling from his hands and gently scattering across the floor.

Rachel's eyes bulged. "Oh."

"Kurt, how in the world did you get accepted there?" Will asked.

"Whoa," Sam said. "That was pretty offensive."

Will's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. "I certainly didn't mean that the way it sounded. I apologize, Kurt. I was just so thrown. I didn't mean to offend you."

Kurt smiled pleasantly, if vacantly. "No offense taken."

"Who the hell is Cecilia?" Puck demanded. "And is she hot?"

Quinn, Mercedes, and Santana rolled their eyes and sighed.

"The Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia is one of the world's oldest music conservatories, Puck," Will explained, his accent far inferior to Kurt's own. "It's considered to be Italy's national academy of music. It's one of the finest places one can receive musical education."

Puck blinked and then shrugged. "Okay." He turned to Kurt. "So how'd you like it, Princess?"

Kurt laughed. "I enjoyed it immensely, Noah, thank you for asking."

Puck nodded and slung his arms across Kurt's shoulders. "So, did you get your cherry popped this summer, babe?"

"Puck!" Finn and Will shouted.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes as Finn tackled Puck to the floor.

"Don't talk about Kurt that way!" Finn screamed. "Don't talk about him. Don't touch him. Don't even look at him!"

Puck and Finn rolled together across the floor, shouting obscenities and insults at each other, as the rest of the group either tried to separate them or egged them on.

Rachel was shrieking at Finn as Will tried to pull the two boys apart, only to trip and fall to the ground for his efforts. Rachel quickly helped him up.

"Finn Hudson," Kurt hissed in a low, dangerous voice.

Sam shivered. So did Santana, but for an altogether different reason. A slow smile spread across Quinn's face.

Immediately, Finn released Puck and sprang to his feet, looking sheepish and abashed. Puck hauled himself up and glared at him, muttering promises of vengeance underneath his breath.

"Finn Hudson," Kurt repeated.

Finn hated that he loved the way Kurt said his full name. He had missed it this morning. He didn't know why he had done what he had just done. He only knew he had to keep Puck away from Kurt, otherwise Kurt would become as tainted as Quinn.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, too," Kurt said. "I'm sorry that Sam had to witness this ridiculous and vulgar display of stupidity. I'm sorry that we, as a club, have obviously learned nothing from last year's travails. Were Sam truly a spy as Rachel feared, he wouldn't have to lift a finger against us, as it's apparent that we're intent on causing our own implosion."

Finn, Rachel, and several others blushed.

"We are exceedingly fortunate that Coach Sylvester was not here to see this exchange, otherwise you and Noah would find yourselves suspended and we would be down two more members."

Finn and Puck guiltily looked down at the floor.

Will couldn't decide if he was angry that he had lost control of the room or if he was curious as to why he simply hadn't put Kurt in charge last year. The boy was certainly doing a good job of handling his classmates, far better than he himself ever had. That was embarrassing. And the kids had never listened to Rachel.

"And just so we're clear, Finn," Kurt added, "while I appreciate your attempt at defending my honor, no matter how inappropriate or unnecessary, I believe we can both agree that it's a little late for you to be my knight in shining armor."

"Kurt…"

"Further," Kurt interrupted, "Noah was simply teasing me, much in the same manner Santana and Mercedes did this morning. He wasn't trying to offend me. He's my…" he trailed off, uncertain, before snapping his mouth shut.

"What?" Mercedes demanded, glaring furiously at Puck.

Kurt looked nervously at Puck, who was just angry.

"Just tell them, Princess!"

"Oh my god!" Quinn exclaimed. "Are you two together?"

"What!" Finn roared.

Kurt blinked and started laughing hysterically. "Y-You th-think we're d-d-dating?" He doubled over and wheezed.

Puck, who had been chuckling, suddenly frowned. "It's not that funny, Princess."

Kurt looked up at him, gaped, and began laughing anew.

"Hey," Puck whined. "Come on, man. It's not so impossible to believe. I'm a stud."

Kurt wiped his eyes and pulled himself together. "You're also straight, Noah," he said, rather fondly.

Puck shrugged. "Maybe I'm evolving. I could be bi or something, right?"

Kurt shook his head, much amused. "Oh, Noah. I don't think so."

Puck smirked in reply. "Maybe you should kiss me to find out for sure."

Kurt batted his eyelashes. "But after that, I'd have to cut off my lips. However would I sing?"

Sam and Santana snickered.

"You could recycle them," Puck volleyed. "With lips that big, maybe you could turn them into suitcase handles."

"To carry the bags underneath your eyes?" Kurt shot back.

Puck growled, but soon started sniggering.

"So…you're not dating?" Finn slowly asked.

Kurt and Puck simultaneously rolled their eyes. "No," they intoned.

"Then what were you going to say?" Mercedes asked Kurt. "What is he to you? Why do you keep calling him Noah? And when did you become friends with Matt?"

Kurt frowned. Apparently Mercedes' unrequited crush on Matt had either never been extinguished or had reignited after the boy had moved away. In either case, he wasn't impressed with her jealousy and was in no mood to placate her.

"Why shouldn't he be friends with Matt?" barked a suddenly defensive Mike. "What? Matt isn't good enough for him or something?"

"That's not what I meant!" she trilled.

"Then what the hell were you trying to say?" he demanded.

"She doesn't like Kurty having friends other than her," Brittany said.

Kurt winced. The statement was true, but he wished Brittany hadn't announced it to the entire room.

"That's not true," Mercedes denied.

"Yeah, it is," Brittany challenged. "You were mad that Puck and Kurty were getting along this morning. You were mad when you found out Kurty was friends with Matt. You gave me and San dirty looks when Kurty walked into school with us, and you did it again when Sam walked in to the room with Kurty. If you weren't friends with Tina and Artie, you'd hate them too. You're jealous."

Quinn was nodding right along with Brittany's tirade, which made Kurt frown.

Sam, Santana, and Puck exchanged glances. Finn was cringing, knowing Brittany's assault against Mercedes was applicable to himself, as well.

With each sentence, Brittany had advanced closer and closer toward Mercedes, until she was finally yelling right into the other girl's face.

Santana cleared her throat. "Brittany."

Brittany shook her head. "No. She's still mad at Kurt for staying with the Cheerios. She's mad that we all like him, and that Coach does too."

"That's enough now, honey," Kurt said quietly.

Brittany whirled on her heel to face him. "She's mean, Kurt. It's not fair."

He shook his head. He had to put a stop to this immediately. He walked over and gathered a crying Mercedes in his arms, sad when she tried to push him away, but relieved when she finally relented and hugged him back.

"Brittany," he began, "Mercedes is not mean. She's just worries about me and is very overprotective. Those aren't bad things."

Brittany was bewildered. "But why does she need to protect you from us? We're your friends!"

Kurt sighed. "Darling, you've never been slushied, let alone been slushied multiple times a day, every day, for months on end. Yes, the Cheerios are now my friends, and I'm proud to call them such, but you know they used to slushy Mercedes and me, as well as Rachel and Artie."

Sam wondered what the hell frosty goodness had to do with anything.

Brittany nodded, tears in her eyes. "Some of the Cheerios are mean, but not all of us. I never hurt you, and neither did Santana nor Quinn."

"That's true," Kurt said, "but when you've been bullied as badly as we have, it can be very hard to trust people, even if you do like them, because you always wonder when they'll turn on you. And as much I love Quinn, she did bully Rachel."

Quinn flushed. Rachel was stunned Kurt had just called out his friend on her behalf.

Brittany sniffled. "That's sad." She flew at them and hugged Mercedes. "I'm sorry," she said to the other girl. "I'm sorry I was mean. I just don't want you to take Kurty away from me."

Mercedes swallowed heavily and hugged her back. "I wouldn't do that, and I'm sorry, too. I get really defensive about Kurt. He's my best friend. I just don't want anyone ever to hurt him again. Think about how you would feel if people treated Santana the way they treated Kurt."

Brittany pulled back, fire in her eyes. "I'd kill them."

Mercedes nodded.

"Sorry again," Brittany said weakly.

"Me too," the other girl said.

They hugged once more.

"Well, this was fun," Puck sneered, whimpering when Kurt smacked him upside his head. He pouted before making kissy faces at the other boy, grinning when Kurt laughed.

"So what is going on with you two?" Quinn asked them.

Puck smirked and pulled Kurt to him. "The Princess and I are currently involved in the world's most epic bromance."

Kurt blushed as he became the recipient of several hard, searching looks, including ones from Sam and Will. Finally, he nodded.

"Noah is my friend and wouldn't hurt me."

Puck swelled with pride.

Finn gaped at Kurt. "How can you say that? It wasn't that long ago that he was throwing you in dumpsters!"

"Wait, what?" Sam demanded.

"Excuse me?" Will asked at the same moment.

Kurt ignored them. "And you were standing right there beside him, Finn. Unlike you, Noah came to me and apologized, and I accepted."

Everyone turned toward Puck, who glared back with fierce determination.

"Any animosity between Noah and myself is in the past, where it belongs," Kurt said. "We've made our peace."

"So why didn't you tell anyone?" asked a curious Santana.

Puck rolled his eyes. "The Princess was worried about this," he said, waving his hand about the room. "He knew this would happen. And even though I don't give a crap, he didn't want to see the jocks turn on me because I was hanging with the school fairy."

"That's a slur!" Rachel cried.

Kurt smiled. "It's not. It's just Noah. It's no different from Santana calling me Tink or Rainbow. It's affection, not malice. And, as Noah tolerates me calling him the Scourge of Humanity and a host of even more creative epithets, I'm willing to suffer his inanity."

Puck nodded happily.

"How could you?" Finn barked at Kurt, voice sharp with betrayal. "You're supposed to be my friend."

Kurt stilled. "I was your friend, Finn. You were the one who was uncomfortable with that."

Finn flushed. "You know why."

Kurt nodded. "I had a grossly inappropriate crush on you. Rest assured, that time has long since passed. Believe me, it now mortifies me far more than it ever did you."

Finn's fists curled. "You know what he did to me."

Kurt sneered. "And you know what he did to me. I chose to forgive him because he asked, because he was honestly contrite. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. Not everything does, you know." He shook his head. "This discussion is over. My friendship with Noah is not open for a public dissection. If you have a problem with it, deal with it on your own time. We still have performances to get through and we're wasting precious moments arguing old hurts."

He turned to Sam and sighed. "I'm just so sorry, Sam. If I'd had any idea that you would be walking into this, I would have encouraged you to run far, far away."

Sam was feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the encounter session he had just witnessed, but his brow furrowed. "Why? You didn't do anything wrong."

That frank statement quelled many, particularly Finn, Puck, Mercedes, and Rachel, who were now embarrassed they had thrown childish fits for no good reason.

Will cleared his throat. "Once again, Kurt is correct. We've lost fifteen minutes and will have to carry over some performances to this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Sam, you're welcome to return for this afternoon's session, as you haven't yet been given an opportunity to see what we're supposed to be doing here."

The others shifted nervously.

Will then handed Rachel, Puck, and Finn each a piece of paper.

Puck rolled his eyes and Finn swore under his breath, while Rachel studied the paper in confusion.

"What is this?"

"Notice of your detention," Will answered. "You each physically assaulted a fellow student, and you, Rachel, verbally harassed another. You have three days of detention with me after school this week."

"But…football," Finn whimpered.

Sam perked up.

"We'll schedule it around practice," Will affirmed.

Puck shrugged. "Whatever."

Rachel gaped. "I've never had a detention in my life!"

Will glared at her. "Then I guess it's true what they say: there's a first time for everything."

Defeated, she threw herself sullenly into the nearest chair.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave," Kurt quietly said to Sam.

"Are you staying?" the other boy asked.

Kurt nodded. "I have to."

Sam shrugged. "Then I'll stay too."

Kurt blinked. "Really?"

"Why not? I'm pretty sure I'm either on painkillers or that this is the craziest reality show ever."

Kurt, Santana, Quinn, Artie, Tina, and Mike laughed.

Sam prepared himself to listen attentively to the four randomly selected vocalists who would shortly be performing their songs. Apparently the theme was Summer Vacation. That was certainly open-ended. And lame.

Mr. Schuester decided to draw said names from a hat which made everyone groan and hiss upon its appearance, reminding them again that, as the jazz band wasn't present that day, they either had to sing acapella or provide their own backing tracks. He indicated the iPod dock atop the piano.

Rachel tried to bypass the process and nominated herself to go first, explaining that she had prepared several appropriate selections for the assignment. For some reason, she had stressed the word appropriate. Sam didn't understand why, but figured there must have been some back story there, considering the way several people glared at her.

He didn't know what to think about Rachel. He didn't really like her, but he certainly didn't hate her. She was just there, like a mildly annoying headache you know will eventually go away but that you have to put up with in the meantime. Maybe, if he decided to join, she would calm down and they could possibly become something like friends. It was interesting watching her interact with the others, mostly because she didn't. Oh, she talked to them, but only after they had first addressed her, usually via insult or thinly-veiled threat, which Sam didn't think was very cool either.

Rachel really only spoke to Kurt and Finn. Finn was obvious, because, as Sam had learned, they were dating. He didn't even want think about that.

But Rachel also had some strange fixation on Kurt. Anytime she said anything, she would word it as a general statement, but her eyes would dart toward Kurt, as if waiting for him to interrupt, comment, or dismiss her. It was utterly bizarre.

But Kurt never offered a reply. He merely sat there, quietly pondering who knew what. The more he ignored her, the more frustrated Rachel became, which, in turn, caused Finn's anxiety to grow.

Sam wouldn't have thought Kurt would ever crush on someone like Finn, though he reflected that he himself didn't yet know Finn very well. What he did know, he didn't like. Finn appeared to be slightly violent and more than a little homophobic. What had Kurt found attractive about that? Granted, Finn was handsome, but no more so than Puck or Mike in Sam's estimation.

The relationships among these people were confusing, and not only because they shared a lot of history. He could accept Kurt and Puck's friendship easily enough, even though it was weird, because he didn't really understand their past. They did look strange, though, sitting together and happily chatting. Maybe it was the mohawk. Or maybe it was because they were flirting outrageously with each other, just because they could and they knew it was upsetting some people. Still, Sam thought it had been pretty damn cool of Puck to swallow his pride, admit that he'd been an asshole, and apologize for it.

And Kurt had forgiven him because Kurt was absolutely perfect and beautiful and smart and funny and talented and had a truly epic ass and…

Sam shook his head to clear it, once again silently cursing having a complexion which heated up like the sun when he experienced any mild emotion. Okay, so he had a little crush on Kurt. It wasn't like he could help it. Hell, he couldn't understand why someone wouldn't have a crush on Kurt.

He knew that a lot of it was probably hero-worship because Kurt was the first kid he'd met in Lima and had been so kind and helpful to him, as well as nonjudgmental. And another huge part of his crush was based solely on looks, sure, but Kurt was smoking hot, so whatever.

And it wasn't like he was the only one. Brittany was obviously crushing on Kurt, knowing and not caring that Kurt was gay. It was actually kind of nice, how accepting Brittany was, not restricting herself or anyone else to perceived social norms. He still couldn't figure out what the deal was with Brittany, Artie, and Santana, though.

Santana scared him stupid. He'd known girls like her before, girls who ate souls like candy and whose tongues were as sharp as their fingernails. He hadn't minded her suggestive comments; in fact, he was rather flattered. The girl was gorgeous, after all. Still, something had stopped him from flirting back, probably some part of his lizard brain which had recognized and feared a much more powerful predator.

But she had a wicked awesome sense of humor. He hoped they would be friends. He sure as hell didn't want her for an enemy.

Her relationship with Kurt was pretty interesting, as well, mostly because they communicated nonverbally. They didn't even rely on sneers or eyerolls or smirks. They would look at each other with blank faces, yet he could tell they totally knew what the other was thinking. Creepy, but still cool.

Artie, Tina, and Mike were all very nice, down-to-earth people, yet Sam sensed an awkward tension among the three of them. It was pretty obvious that Artie, despite apparently dating Brittany, was hung up on Tina, and therefore resented Mike. He didn't know if it was just a crush or if Artie and Tina used to go out, but the looks of sorrow Artie shot at Tina and the angry glares he leveled at Mike spoke for themselves. Tina and Artie were both close with Kurt, and it seemed like Mike was trying to get to know Kurt better, perhaps to impress Tina.

Sam couldn't stop himself from staring when Mike's t-shirt had ridden up as he stretched, revealing an amazing set of abs. Sam was pretty darned proud of his own abs, but Mike was like, totally shredded. It was intimidating for some reason. Mike was also really, really hot.

But not as hot as Kurt.

Sam desperately wondered what Kurt's abs looked like. Kurt wasn't very muscular, but he was incredibly toned. Besides, the epic ass was so perfect that it just wouldn't be right if Kurt also had epic abs. He didn't even especially care about the abs. He just wondered if the rest of Kurt's skin was as soft as his hands.

Sam closed his eyes as his mind drifted off to a Happy Place, one in which Kurt was wearing very little, yet he politely applauded as Rachel finished performing her rendition of Summer of '69. Sam was pretty sure there was nothing ironic about the song choice, but considering whom it would have referenced, he was relieved.

Rachel beamed at Finn and bowed grandly before skipping back to her seat, reveling in the meager applause. Apparently they were the stars of the club, and while Sam could appreciate Rachel's talent, he hadn't felt anything while she had been performing. Sure, she had the pipes, but everything about her style just screamed generic.

Sam was also annoyed with Mr. Schuester for just allowing Rachel to go first, even though her name had been the third drawn. He hadn't even fought her, and Sam could only deduce that he capitulated to her often. That was a little pathetic.

Mercedes sauntered up the center of the room like she owned it, and Sam couldn't help but admire her confidence. He didn't really understand her deal with Kurt, but they loved each other a lot, he could tell. He could also tell that Mercedes was a little bit in love with Kurt, just enough to be territorial when it came to anyone else circling Kurt's waters. He was just wondering when it would be his turn to be interrogated. Because he definitely was going to keep circling Kurt.

From the moment the girl opened her mouth, Sam was in awe. Mercedes wailed away, each soulful note sending shivers up and down his spine. He had always been drawn to that type of voice: powerful, but honeyed. He loved country music as a genre – as well as pop, rock, blues, and hip-hop – but his favorite artists included Adele, Jill Scott, Rebecca Lynn Howard, Jennifer Hudson, Amy Winehouse, Anggun, Taylor Dayne, Faith Hill, and others of that skill set: girls with big voices.

He couldn't stop staring at Mercedes. She had total presence. He couldn't have taken his eyes off of her if he wanted to – and he didn't.

"Wow," he breathed. "She's incredible."

Kurt nodded happily. "She is."

Sam mouthed the words to the hymn as Mercedes gave them meaning and life, and he was the first on his feet, whistling through his fingers, when she finished. She looked over at him, startled, as if she had expected him not to like her.

The open appreciation on Sam's face gave Mercedes pause. At first, she thought he was perhaps trying to impress Kurt or placate her, but she could tell that he had truly enjoyed her performance. She had also noticed his polite if distant response to Rachel's song. She felt warmed that Sam preferred her over Rachel, even though she knew it made her petty. She hoped that if Sam did join the club, perhaps he would be yet another voice to insist that, while Rachel was talented, she didn't have to be the lead on every song.

She beamed at Sam and bowed her head in thanks and recognition. She also noticed that once she had, Sam's eyes immediately returned to Kurt.

Oh.

Oh!

She caught Santana's eye and the other girl subtly nodded.

Was her baby boy finally going to get his man? And a damn fine looking man Sam Evans was. If she wasn't so happy and excited for Kurt, she'd be jealous.

Hell, who was she kidding?

She was jealous, just as Brittany had accused. She had tried and tried to get over her crush on Kurt, which was why she had been so frustrated when he had kept after Finn, knowing his crush was as hopeless as her own. She had admired his tenacity, though she knew it was futile, and she had somewhat resented his persistence, because it had seemed to egg on her own. She knew she needed to let it go, let him be who he was meant to be, but it was just so damn hard. If only he wasn't gay, he would be the perfect boy. Of course, he was the perfect boy; just for another boy. She suppressed a sigh.

She was going to lose him if she didn't quit her nonsense. His words to her earlier that morning had stung, but only because they had been so true. She had been upset that he hadn't sought her approval for his new hairstyle or his new wardrobe. She was bitter and jealous of his new friendships with Puck and Matt. She was furious that he had stayed with the Cheerios and was now one of their most popular members.

There were so many demands on his time and she was terrified it was only a matter of said time before he cut her loose, so maybe she had been trying to provoke him to do it sooner, to make it a clean break. But then, as she had made the lonely trek to homeroom, she had realized that Kurt had always put her first, above everyone and everything else save his father. Why was she trying so hard to antagonize him? Why was she trying so damn hard to throw away the best friend she had ever had?

But what would happen to their relationship when Kurt started dating? He would put his boyfriend first – as he should, she realized; as she herself would – but even the idea made her anxious, which was probably why she had reacted so negatively to Kurt and Puck's bromance.

As Mike walked up to the front of the room, Mercedes kept her eye on Kurt and Sam, suddenly realizing how adorable they looked together. And how fucking gorgeous they were together. She was reminded that it was Kurt who had brought Sam to the meeting. Sam had only stayed because Kurt was remaining. She supposed that also meant that perhaps Sam had only agreed to attend at all because he wanted to be with Kurt.

Nice.

And, of course, Kurt was completely oblivious. She forced her eyes not to roll. Sweet Lord, she hoped his earlier words to Finn were true and that Kurt was finally over that blockhead.

Next on the list was getting herself over Kurt. She wouldn't let go of him – she could never have survived that – but she had to let go of the idea of them ever being anything more than friends. Otherwise she would lose him, through her own machinations and delusions.

Mike looked out nervously at the audience. Granted, they were his friends – or some of them were – but he had never really performed for them before; not vocally, at least. He missed Matt so much right then, knowing the other boy would have insisted they perform together, Schuester's rules be damned.

He also felt vaguely jealous and resentful of Kurt and Puck's new bromance. Not just because it was weird that it was them, but because it only reinforced his own sense of abandonment. Of course, Matt hadn't really abandoned him – he had definitely not wanted to leave – but Mike felt abandoned anyway.

They had tried everything not to be separated. They hadn't been separated since they were five. Their families had even vacationed together. Both he and Matt had tried to convince their respective parents to let Matt move in with the Changs. They had even begged on hands and knees, but that plot had failed, not that they had really been expecting it to work.

He knew that there some people in the school who thought he and Matt were lovers, but neither of them had cared, knowing the haters were just jealous because they didn't have true friends of their own. If he and Matt had been girls, no one would have said anything, but because they were boys, they were automatically gay.

He could never truly comprehend everything Kurt had been put through, but he felt he had a glimmer of understanding. That was why he and Matt had never participated in the bullying of Kurt – not only because they knew there was nothing wrong with being gay, but because bullying people was lame and pathetic, and usually said more about the insecurities of the bullies rather than those of the victims. Still, their fear of being bullied themselves had kept them from being friends with Kurt, even though both he and Matt had always liked the boy.

He had been glad when Kurt and Matt had hit it off over Facebook and he was, with Tina's urging, looking forward to establishing his own friendship with Kurt. But now there was Puck with whom he would have to contend. And Sam, too, it appeared.

He dropped his iPod into the dock and cued up the music.

He felt Artie's silent judgment, knowing the other boy was just waiting for him to hit a sour note or miss his cue or something. Mike didn't blame him; he'd be sulking too if he had been stupid enough to lose an awesome girl like Tina.

He refused to feel sorry for Artie. The boy hadn't treated Tina well – not as well as she deserved – and he hadn't started anything with her until after she had broken up with Artie. Yes, she had gone about it all wrong – dropping a guy via email was pretty cold – but he didn't regret being with her.

He also knew that Artie had a killer voice and Mike didn't want to embarrass himself, which was one of the reasons had chosen the song he had. He figured if he was singing in Chinese, the others would not only not understand him, but would be thrown off by the differences in the tonality of the language. So if he missed a note, his ass was covered. Sometimes being Asian was even more cool than people realized, like when someone stopped you to ask for directions and you could just pretend you didn't speak English.

Heh.

Tina smiled broadly at him and he gave a small grin in return, losing himself in the rhythm as the music began to play. Yeah, Tina wouldn't know that he was actually singing to her about finding your true love in the warm winds of summer, but neither would anyone else. So he could sing a saccharine song, be as sappy as he wanted, and not have to feel embarrassed. He was sure when he told Tina about it later, she'd reward him with sweet Asian kisses.

Tina noticed that, other than herself, no one except Kurt was paying attention to Mike. Neither of them knew what the hell her boyfriend was singing, but she could feel the sincerity and emotion behind the words, which meant he was probably singing about her or their relationship.

He really was the sweetest boy.

She glanced at Artie, more out of habit than longing, and felt terribly guilty. She knew, and Kurt had confirmed, that she had hurt him in one of the worst ways imaginable. Dumping him in an email was just low, no matter how you cut it. She knew she had no good excuse other than that she had been trying to spare herself some guilt, but instead had only increased it.

She sighed softly.

It wasn't that she didn't love Artie; she had loved him more than she had ever realized.

Unfortunately, she'd had this realization while they were at their most emotionally distant. That was when she had also figured out that she had loved the idea of Artie slightly more than Artie himself. That was just wrong and unfair to both of them.

She knew she shouldn't have let their relationship progress as far as had while holding back so much of herself. She had tried hard to be the perfect girlfriend, to make up for the lie over her faked stutter, that she had begun to lose herself in the process, to lose sight of her wants and her goals and her dreams. She hadn't been fair to either of them.

As much as she loved Artie, she hadn't much liked herself while she was with Artie. She knew that it had been her problem, that a lot of it had been her own fault, but she also knew they couldn't have gone back. Neither one of them had it in them to start again.

So she had decided it would be best to end things. And she did, in the most cowardly way possible, which only reflected how cowardly she had been throughout the entire relationship.

It was a bitter lesson, and perhaps Artie had paid the greater cost.

She and Artie had only become friends through Kurt. Artie had been Kurt's best friend throughout kindergarten and elementary school, but they had been separated for middle school, where Kurt had met her. They had become very close very quickly, and while she had known about Artie, she had never met him until they were all freshman at McKinley.

There had been an immediate attraction between them, though they had never done anything about it at the time. The summer before their sophomore year, Kurt had distanced himself from them and begun hanging out with Mercedes, believing he was a third wheel. But once they didn't have Kurt to buffer them, they hadn't much talked to each other at all.

In a really weird way, Kurt was like Harry Potter, Artie was Ron, and she was Hermione. Of course, she had always known that Ron and Hermione would end up together, even though they really shouldn't have, so she supposed she should have seen the inevitable breakup coming. At least there'd be no kid named Hugo to worry about.

Finally they had begun dating, and while they had a lot in common, they didn't talk very much about things which mattered, including the things the other did that bothered or hurt them. So the anger and bitterness had grown until it had eclipsed the love they had felt for each other.

Everything with Mike was different. Yes, it was new and exciting and all of the wonderful things that came with a nascent relationship, but it was also different because it was more equitable and because Mike was simply more mature than Artie.

Granted, Artie may have been more intelligent, but he was somewhat emotionally stunted. He had so much rage and resentment locked inside of him because of his condition, and she certainly couldn't blame him for that.

What she did blame him for was allowing that rage to build up until it became explosive and then taking it out on the people who loved him the most. He had done it with her, and she had seen him do it with his parents. She was sure he'd never try it with Brittany, knowing that either Santana or Kurt – or both of them – would kill him. Also, Brittany wouldn't have been able to stand it, and Tina was guessing Artie knew that. Brittany might turn out to be actually be very good for him.

The only one who ever escaped Artie's emotional outbursts unscathed was Kurt, and that was because he simply didn't tolerate them. The one time she had seen Artie attack him, she had reached the conclusion that Kurt Hummel was perhaps one of the most frightening people she had ever had the privilege to know.

The way Kurt had simply bent himself in half at the waist to stare deeply into Artie's eyes, the way he had hissed about his dead mother, his sexuality, his strained relationship with his father, his hopeless crush on Finn, the way he was verbally and physically assaulted on a daily basis – not just in school, but in town, on vacations, over the phone – had shut Artie up immediately.

Kurt hadn't raised his voice, hadn't been argumentative or defensive, and he hadn't been pitying, knowing that Artie hated pity more than anything else.

He had told Artie that he knew what it was like to be judged on appearances. He knew how it was to be ridiculed because you were smarter than your tormenters. He knew what it was to experience those parental looks of disappointment, the ones that were supposed to be secret but were always seen. He knew what it was not only to think but expect that he would be alone for the rest of his life.

And then he had pressed his forehead against Artie's and said what the hell makes you think you're so goddamned special?

In the five years she had known Kurt, she'd never heard him swear.

Artie had laughed and then broken down, sobbing.

When she'd tried to comfort him, he had pushed her away, not unkindly, and she had watched, stupefied, as Kurt rolled Artie over to the sofa and locked the brakes of the wheelchair, before lifting the other boy out it and placing Artie in his lap.

Kurt had held Artie and sung to him. He had reminded Artie that he had been the only one of his friends who had stood at his side when his mother died, and there was nothing in the world, not even Artie's own self-loathing, that would drive him away.

Kurt had cooed and whispered words lost to anyone but the two of them. Kurt had held tight to Artie, even when the boy was alternately striking him and desperately clinging to him.

Kurt had looked over Artie's shoulder at her and told – no, she remembered, ordered – her to leave, and she had. She hadn't even thought twice about it, because after watching them together, she knew that she would never be strong enough to allow Artie to be as weak as he would sometimes need.

But Kurt was.

Most of the club, Mercedes included, were ignorant as to how much Kurt and Artie loved each other. Tina knew they would die for one another. Their relationship wasn't showcased, wasn't paraded around. It was subtle and, Tina thought, incredibly beautiful.

She knew Artie wouldn't survive without Kurt. She knew he was looking at colleges in New York so that he wouldn't again be separated from Kurt.

In many ways, Kurt was Artie's true love. Not in a romantic sense, but they had a connection so deep that it could never be severed unless one of them died, and probably not even then.

She wanted that for herself. She hoped she might find it with Mike.

She had noticed that morning that Kurt had been particularly reserved around her and Artie. She knew he expected them to force him to choose between them.

She could never do that to him. Not only did she love Kurt too much, but she knew she would lose, and she didn't want to lose Kurt anymore than Artie did. She could only hope Artie wouldn't try to take advantage of Kurt's loyalty. She didn't truly believe he would, but the possibility scared her.

She blinked rapidly and jumped to her feet when Mike finished his song, applauding so fiercely that the palms of her hands stung.

She would talk to him at lunch about everything she was feeling, and she knew he would listen.

Kurt waited patiently for Tina to finish rewarding Mike with soft coos and gentle looks before making his way over.

"Mike, you were wonderful," he said, attempting to gush discreetly. "I had no idea you could sing that well! I wish you and Matt had made yourselves a little more well known last year. I think we all missed out on something."

Mike blinked and a slow blush spread across his cheeks.

"I'm sorry if this sounds ignorant," Kurt continued, "but were you singing in Mandarin or Cantonese? Or perhaps Wu or Xiang? We discussed this morning that I was interested in learning Chinese, but I really don't know that much about the language or its various dialects."

Mike shot him a huge smile. "That you know there is a difference between Mandarin and Cantonese – heck, that you know the names of any of the linguistic subdivisions – makes you far less ignorant than you'll ever know. And I was singing in Mandarin, by the way. I was actually going to talk to you about this at lunch. When I was younger, I attended Chinese school so that I could learn proper grammar and how to read and write the script. If you're interested, I still have some books and can put you in touch with one of the instructors."

A happy, giddy smile stretched across Kurt's face, and suddenly Mike just got it. Kurt Hummel was frigging adorable. Once he trusted you enough to lower his defenses even slightly – and they were some seriously hardcore and justified defenses – Kurt was just a really nice, decent guy. It would be almost impossible not to like him.

"Thank you, Mike," Kurt chirped. "I'd appreciate that very much."

Mike nodded and watched as Kurt returned to Sam, who appeared anxious at being left behind. He bent down and whispered in Tina's ear.

"Does Sam like Kurt?"

She giggled. "I think so."

"That is so cute!"

She cuddled up against him. "So are you."

He looked over his shoulder when he heard a cell phone go off and watched as Artie retrieved a text message. Artie then shot a brilliant smile at Kurt, who blew him a kiss which Artie reached out and caught.

Mike swallowed heavily. He would probably never mean to Kurt what Artie did, just as Kurt could never replace Matt, but he was definitely looking forward to calling Kurt Hummel his friend.

Will had been observing Kurt with quiet wonder.

He was so surprised to see Kurt reaching out to others, stepping beyond his comfort zone to embrace the people around him.

Sam was one thing; he had been assigned to Kurt. That they got along – very well, from what he could see – was just gravy.

Puck was something else entirely. Will would never have believed that the boy would experience such a crisis of conscience, let alone actually attempt to rectify his past misdeeds. He swallowed guiltily as he flashed back over every time he had walked past Kurt and Puck by the dumpsters, never knowing that Puck had been throwing Kurt inside them.

Because he hadn't wanted to know, he silently admitted. If he had, he would have felt compelled to address it. As long as he was able to deny it, as he denied so many things, he was safe.

But now all he could see was Kurt's sad and angry eyes, waiting, hoping, that his teacher would do something to help him, but ultimately knowing that he wouldn't.

Kurt had forgiven Puck, was forming a friendship with Mike, had apparently grown very close with his fellow Cheerios, and still held close ties with Mercedes, Tina, and Artie. In fact, it appeared Kurt was becoming friends with everyone but Finn and Rachel.

Rachel he could understand, but what had happened between Kurt and Finn?

The bottom line was that Kurt was becoming the fine young man that Will had always known he would be.

And he had had nothing to do with it.

That hurt, but he only had himself to blame.

It was time to make some changes as to how he ran this club.

Santana stalked forward to the front of the room, dropped her iPod into the dock, spun around on her heel, and glared.

"Right. So we're supposed to sing about something that happened to us over break, but instead, I'm going to sing about what I learned while on break. Actually, I had begun thinking about it after I watched Quinn go through all the crap the creeps of this school threw at her last year. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got."

Quinn raised an interested brow.

Santana snorted. "Then that whole Madonna thing. I still don't know what that was about. And why the hell was Kurt singing What It Feels Like for a Girl with the other guys? He's the only boy I know who actually treats women right."

Will nervously cleared his throat and looked down at the floor.

"Probably because he doesn't want to sleep with us," she mused. "How unfair is that? The guy we all want is the one we can't have."

"Yeah," Brittany said sadly.

"Word," Mercedes nodded.

"At least we get to look at him," Tina said, smirking.

"Perhaps there will be nudity in the future," Quinn grinned.

"Quinn!" Rachel squealed.

Brittany smirked. "You don't know what you're missing."

Puck quirked a brow. "And you do?"

She smiled with satisfaction. "I dated him last year. He's going to make some boy a very happy dolphin."

Kurt released a cough of surprise and stared down at his lap, blushing.

Finn looked at Kurt with jealous anger, while Mike was looking at Kurt with simple bemusement. Puck looked curious, Artie proud, and Sam discreetly gazed at Kurt with subtle yearning.

"Um, Santana?" Kurt softly asked.

She shook off the lustful stare she had leveled at him and shook her head. "Yeah, so Madonna's a complete badass, but singing her songs doesn't help us if we don't feel like we could be her. We all put on fronts just to get through the day, and I finally figured out that I do too, even if I hate it and kind of hate myself for feeling that's it necessary. So that's what I want to sing about.

"Also, shoutout to Tink for finding me this song. I didn't know what the hell to do or where to look, so I called and whined at him while he was sitting in the middle of La Traviata in Vienna. Not only did he take the call, he knew the perfect song right away and emailed me the mp3 as soon as we hung up, because he's just got it like that. Which is why he's awesome, and everyone who isn't him or Brittany sucks."

Kurt dropped his face in his hands and groaned as Brittany happily cheered and thanked Santana, who smirked at both of them.

Santana cued up her music and, as the gentle melody began to play, the others realized that she had also prerecorded her own backing vocals in a slightly higher key than that in which she usually sang. She began swaying her hips, in perfect time with the soft but persistent percussion.

"I've seen it all, I've soaked it in," she began, singing with a gentleness which surprised those familiar with her usual style. "I've taken breaths in worlds you've never been. I've tasted kisses under influence. It was beautiful, but there was no suspense."

Puck was startled. What was she trying to say? That their hookups hadn't meant anything to her? Not that they had meant much to him either, but he had always believed the opposite was true for her. Santana had certainly been possessive of him whenever he began sleeping with someone else. But did that mean she had been jealous, or had she merely been fulfilling some perfunctory role which others expected of her?

There had never been any mystery about their relationship; they had simply used each other because both of them enjoyed sex.

He wasn't hurt, exactly, but he also got the sense that he didn't know her as well as he thought he did, and that was surprising. He had thought he knew her better than he did anyone else. That he didn't bothered him.

"Do you know what it feels like for a woman when the love is right?"

Though posed as a question, the slight tinge of desperation infused within it transformed it into a bid of passionate entreaty. She was demanding the entire audience, male and female alike, reconsider their stance on love, to discard selfish desires and traditional mores and think about what love meant to real women, not romance novel heroines or characters filtered through the male gaze.

Brittany bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears, and spared a guilty glance at Artie.

As much as she liked him, and she really did, he wasn't Santana. No one was and no one ever could be, but until Santana was ready to admit that they were real, that it wasn't all some grand titillation, she couldn't sit around and wait for her. Singing a song wasn't enough. Sweet lady kisses and whispered declarations of love weren't enough. Even the linked pinkies weren't enough.

Until Santana could walk through the front door of McKinley proudly holding her hand, declaring to all and sundry that, yes, what they all knew was true, she couldn't be with her.

She had always understood what Kurt had been put through and that for which he longed. In the end, it wasn't about sex – it wasn't even about sexuality – it was about acknowledgement. It was about the right to take pride in yourself and the person with whom you were in love.

And why should that ever be considered a bad thing?

People were stupid.

"Do you know what it's really like, when you brave the fight and come home alive, when you're a woman?"

Finn thought about his mom, his awesomely cool mom who had been so lonely for almost as long as he could remember.

That is, until Burt Hummel.

Finn had always assumed Kurt had hooked up their parents in a bid to get closer to him, but for the first time he realized that perhaps Kurt was merely saddened to see the empty look in his father's eyes that Finn often saw in those of his mother.

Wow. Had he really misjudged Kurt that badly?

Sure, if their parents were dating, Kurt probably would have been spending a lot more time with him, but there was no way Kurt could have orchestrated their parents actually liking each other, let alone wanting to spend their lives together.

He had spent his entire life watching his mom trudge off to a job she despised so that she could provide for him. He had listened to her as she cried softly into her pillow at night, whispering for his father, his dead father whom he had never known and never would.

He had tried to be a good kid, to do the right thing and make his mom proud of him.

He knew he wasn't very smart. He did okay in school; not as good as he could, but enough to scrape by without being thought of as a complete dunce. He played stupid to blend in, to appear vacuous and nonthreatening, but he wasn't dumb. He had more common sense than most people realized – and more common sense than many people possessed.

He knew right from wrong, though he himself blurred the lines when it suited him, which he knew was bad. He tried to win games to impress his mom and make her proud of him, but it was hard to do when the rest of the team, Puck and Kurt excepted, sucked.

But it never seemed like enough. Oh, it was more than enough for his mom; she had told him that and he believed her. But it wasn't enough for him. He knew he wasn't doing his best, and somehow that made him feel as though he were cheating his mom, like he was just throwing away everything she had sacrificed to give him. Or worse, that he was throwing it back in her face.

Kurt would have been a much better son for Carole Hudson. Kurt was smart – scary smart – and he was so damn brave, braver than any kid Finn knew, braver than any kid should ever have to be. Kurt had perfect manners and used big words in their appropriate context. Kurt picked out perfect gifts for all occasions and remembered important things like birthdays and anniversaries. Kurt was just so much more thoughtful than he himself was.

And then he remembered how angry and alone and scared and abandoned Kurt had felt when he had begun hanging out with Burt.

Finn hadn't understood it at the time. Didn't Kurt realize that he'd never had a dad?

But now he realized that Kurt had been scared of losing his sole remaining parent. Finn could only imagine how he would have felt if Kurt had latched on to Carole in the same way he himself had to Burt. He could only imagine how Carole would have reacted if Kurt had said something as heinous and hurtful as he had said to Kurt.

Maybe he was dumb, after all.

Santana's eyes suddenly appeared to breathe fire as the percussion grew louder and an electric guitar entered the melody. Her look, generalized to the entire room, hardened.

"I've walked the line. I've been undermined. Put on a skirt, even when it hurt, just to satisfy. I've learned to abide. Not allowed to cry."

The girls in the audience suddenly sat at attention, their eyes just as bright as Santana's own, and they began to nod in understanding and commiseration.

Will was stunned.

Santana was communicating the female condition far more effectively and candidly than he had been able to muster last term with what, he now realized, was that utterly patronizing and misogynistic Madonna performance. Despite the inherent anger within the song, there was also a keen sadness and an unfortunate acceptance of the lot of women in life, of how they had learned to play the androcentric system out of necessity, not desire or ironically.

He thought of Emma, and of Terri and Shelby and Sue, and, not for the first time, felt ashamed for how he had treated them. Despite their flaws, despite their own machinations, he had wronged them. And though some of them had wronged him first, or in turn, he had no good excuse for his own actions. He had taken advantage of his privilege without second thought because he had felt it was his right.

And then he considered how he treated the girls of the glee club.

He deferred to Rachel not because she was right, not because she cared about others, not even because it was easier than assuming the lead himself, but because he had feared the club would fall apart without her.

He had abandoned his role as teacher for that of mediator, allowing Rachel to turn the club into her own personal fiefdom, one in which the other members were held hostage to her whims and desires.

When was the last time he had let a girl other than Rachel sing lead on a song performed in competition? He couldn't even remember, and that sickened him.

Yes, Rachel was phenomenal, but so was Mercedes. Santana had had a few throwaway lines at Regionals, and Tina had had none, even though both girls were incredibly gifted.

The voices of Quinn and Brittany weren't as strong, but they were gentle, bordering on angelic, having an ethereal quality that would lend itself well to so very many songs.

Why hadn't he featured them? Why hadn't he told them how much he appreciated them and what they brought to the table?

Had he been so invested in winning that he had forgotten altogether the purpose of the club?

How could he stand before them with a straight face and preach about self-acceptance and expressing their individuality when he didn't allow them to do so when it truly counted?

He was a complete hypocrite. He was honestly surprised they hadn't quit.

And it wasn't limited to the girls, either.

Kurt had shown earlier during Sam's performance that he was far beyond the talents of the majority of the club and could easily rival Rachel in ability.

But Will had ignored him because he had been uncomfortable. He had feared that featuring Kurt in competition would lessen their chances of winning, simply because the boy used a register that was on par with that of a girl.

He knew other show choir leaders who would gladly kill to have a genuine countertenor in their grasp, while he had all but thrown Kurt away.

And while Puck sang in a lower key, he would also be classified as a countertenor. Finn was lead tenor, and he was good, but he was also untrained and lacked the tonality of Artie, also a tenor. Mike bordered the line between tenor and baritone, and could be a real contender if he dedicated himself. He didn't even know what Matt's range was or in what key he had sung. Sam, if he could be persuaded to join, would only enrich the overall sound and would certainly challenge Finn.

"I understand I need to be a man, just to survive," Santana spat.

Finn, Puck, Mike, and Artie flinched.

Mercedes stood up and started swaying with the music, quickly joined by Tina.

"Do you know what it's really like for a woman when the love is right? Do you know what it's really like when you brave the fight and come home alive, when you're a woman?"

Sam thought Santana had a really awesome voice. She didn't quite have the power of Mercedes or Rachel, but he could certainly see that it was more than possible if she trained harder. She also had this really cool tone that the other two didn't. His mind restlessly searched for the right word to describe it. It was sexy and spicy, kind of fiery, but also cool and controlled.

Sultry.

Santana had a sultry voice, and it was beautiful. The passion she infused into it, the way she could access her emotions in a split second to demand the audience feel what she felt – that was her real power.

"I can change your world. I can give you life. I can sing you lullabies at night."

Quinn felt her eyes tear as she thought of Beth. The pain was lessening, but it would never leave her completely. She hoped it never would. She couldn't stand to lose yet another part of her baby, of herself, even if it was painful.

"I can see your eyes before they flicker blind. I can rescue you in the nick of time. Oh!"

The audience was struck by that line and their minds began racing.

If they were in danger, who would they trust unabashedly to have their back? Who knew them so well as to anticipate their every thought and move? Who did they trust more than any other?

Finn thought of his mom. Puck thought of both Quinn and Santana, as well as his little sister. Artie and Mercedes thought of Kurt. Kurt thought of Mercedes, Santana, his father, and, oddly, Coach Sylvester.

Rachel thought of her fathers, but not Finn. Brittany thought about her dolphin and Santana. Quinn thought about Kurt and, strangely enough, Finn. Mike thought of Matt. Tina thought of Kurt and Artie.

Santana thought of Kurt and Brittany. Sam thought of his mom, his little brother, and, with a blush, Kurt.

Will didn't know if there was anyone in his life who he could call in the middle of the night, someone of whom he could ask anything and know they would deliver. It was a sobering realization.

The bridge approached, and Santana took a deep breath.

"Don't you know?" she wailed powerfully, turning the last syllable into an extended and key-changing melisma.

"Damn!" Mercedes whispered. "That's right, girl!" she shouted.

Santana's lips curved into a feline smile. "What it feels like for a woman when the love is right? Do you know what it's really like when you brave the fight and come home alive?"

The others began enthusiastically applauding.

"Yes, I'm a woman," she cooed with defiance.

"I'm a woman," she finished, voice rising beyond what the others thought was the upper limit of her range.

Santana stood there and accepted their accolades as her due.

She had impressed herself with her performance, and that the others were also moved was terrific, though she didn't much care. She had just wanted one chance to show what she could do, to prove herself capable both to them and to herself.

She was proud of herself. It was a relatively new experience for her, and she relished it.

As the applause slowly dwindled and the audience returned to their seats, Kurt raised his hand and waited to be acknowledged.

Will shook himself out of his stupor and nodded. "Yes, Kurt?"

The boy stood and cleared his throat. "Mr. Schuester, I move that we consider short-listing this song as our ballad for Invitationals."

Rachel automatically opened her mouth to object, then reconsidered and shut it.

The others nodded.

"All of the girls should participate," he continued, "and perhaps the boys, with Mike leading, could work out a supporting dance routine to help illustrate the message of the song."

Mike beamed.

"But Santana should sing lead," Kurt finished.

Rachel grimaced but held her tongue.

Santana blinked. "Really?"

Kurt turned to face her. "Santana, you were a revelation. There is absolutely no one who could sing that song better than you."

She gasped softly before a huge smile overtook her face.

Will was surprised at Kurt's assertiveness, perhaps because the boy was not lobbying for himself or Mercedes. "All in favor?" he asked the room.

Every hand shot up, including that of Rachel, though Sam understandably abstained.

Will nodded, pleased. "Motion carried. I'll put it on the list."

Santana bounded over to Kurt and thrust her tongue down his throat.

The only surprise was that Kurt kissed her back just as fiercely.

End Notes: Yeah, Kurt sometimes kisses girls, just because he can. Who wouldn't want to kiss Kurt? And if the answer is you, why the hell are you reading this story?

"Melancholy Blue," as performed by Trisha Yearwood, is available on her album Inside Out.

"Woman," as performed by Tina Arena, is available on her album Songs of Love and Loss.

You can find both on YouTube and, I believe, Spotify.