A/N - Taste The Rainbow, the Matt/Kurt oneshot that sparked Aftertaste takes place between the last chapter and this one, so you might want to read that before this chapter if you haven't already, though its not strictly necessary for this chapter to make sense.
Okay, so the casual, playing it cool, 'hey we're both in glee therefore we should commence social interaction in a relatively isolated setting' talk with Matt, otherwise known as plan B, had completely blown up in his face.
Kurt couldn't even accurately remember what he'd said he'd been so panicked. At the time it had seemed imperative that he and Matt talk and establish a relationship outside of glee before Mercedes, Finn, or heaven forbid Rachel managed to get to him first. After dodging Rachel for the entirety of yesterday, even skipping glee practice to avoid the awkward conversation sure to follow her trapping him in an enclosed space, Kurt had driven into school this morning with a fresh resolve to talk to Matt as soon as possible. Perhaps he should have given some thought to what he would actually say before striding up to Matt outside homeroom.
Though most of the conversation remained mercifully fuzzy, Kurt definitely remembered there being something about Matt having suicidal tendencies and disparaging comments having been made about his wardrobe. He may have come across as a raving lunatic, but at least two thirds of the blame had to lie on Mercedes' shoulder pads. Because seriously, while Kurt had always acted a little stupid around Matt, once he saw Mercedes trussed up and parading about like a bird of paradise in her rainbow coloured monstrosity, his already tightly wound psyche snapped, leaving him a gibbering idiot in front of Matt.
Though on the upside Matt had spoken to him. Using actual words. In sentences. Thinking about it caused a smile to slowly creep onto Kurt's face. Dear Dior he was easy. Another upshot was the idea of spending Saturday shopping with Matt, though Kurt had kind of railroaded him into it, so it could end up painfully uncomfortable if Matt didn't really want to go. Unless Kurt had actually been pushed into a stroke by Mercedes' clothing, and his brain had fabricated the whole thing, which was a distinct possibility.
Horrific as all that had been, further, and most probably greater, trauma lay directly ahead in the form of today's glee practice with Rachel. Kurt still hadn't spoken to Mercedes about how much Rachel had actually been told by Finn in his attempt to 'help', but he took the silence on the texting front as a bad sign. Mercedes was taking this secret planning and skulking around frighteningly seriously, responding to his, 'What up hot mama?' with only a cryptic 'Talk in person. Line not secure. Enact plan B ASAP'. Kurt appreciated Mercedes' understanding his cautiousness, he really did, and he could even roll with the secret agent bit, but he drew the line at rifling through Matt's trash. Or wearing all black clothing and a ski mask. Absolutely not.
Reaching his locker with the ubiquitous graffiti of phallic drawings etched into the metal surface, Kurt rolled his eyes at a new piece covering more than half of the locker's surface. And people thought Barbies perpetuated an unrealistic body type. World history with Mrs. Whitten was next and he could finally get the scoop from Mercedes, but to do that he'd have to look at her, a feat that would require sunglasses or a barf bag. Or both. Kurt donned his smoking new D&G sunglasses and grabbed his slightly worn last season Louis Vuitton bag from the bottom of his newly tagged locker, slammed his it closed and marched, spine straight, head held high, to world history. If he was about to discover his impending doom, he was most certainly about to do it with class.
Arriving before Mercedes, and even Mrs. Whitten, and noticing that Matt was already there, Kurt took his usual seat, two desks behind and one to the left, and commenced Matt watching. Feeling the slightest bit more shy about the activity than he ever had previously, being that plan B was well underway and he was actually talking to Matt now, finally on the football player's radar, Kurt knew he had to be more subtle in his Matt watching. The end result was instead of just hiding his appreciative glances behind his oversized sunglasses, Kurt was swivelling his head between the blank whiteboard at the front of the room and the side of Matt's head fast enough to get whiplash. Who said he couldn't be super sneaky?
Kurt was acting weird. From the corner of his eye Matt could see that he looked even more highly strung than usual. The constant glances at the side of his face were driving him insane. Sure, he'd hoped to get Kurt's attention with Mercedes' stunt earlier but this was a little strange. Kurt wasn't usually the shy and retiring type; and the skittishness he was exhibiting was setting Matt on edge, making him think something was wrong.
Matt surreptitiously reached up to the left side of his face to see if he had a smudge of something that Kurt had noticed and just didn't want to outright tell him. As his fingers made contact with his cheek, the frequency of Kurt's glances increased. Oh crap. Matt knew it. It was just his luck to have something pasted on the side of his face the very same day he'd finally managed to get Kurt's attention.
Kurt was still snapping his head from the whiteboard to Matt's face, so he obviously hadn't gotten the smudge yet. Moving his hand to his ear Matt saw Kurt freeze staring straight at him. Oh God, what had he managed to get on his ear? Resting the side of his face on his hand, he tried to subtly scrub his ear clean between his index finger and thumb. Matt saw Kurt blush and turn to face the front, not turning back again. He frantically rubbed his hand on his jeans to get rid of whatever was gross enough to make Kurt blush in sympathy with him. Matt locked his gaze on the front of the room; shoulders slumped with mortification, his earlier approach now shot to pieces.
Kurt couldn't believe what he'd seen. He had just been sitting there, minding his own business (and Matt's too, but that was practically his business anyway), when Matt, as calm as you please, started torturing him. That had to be against the Geneva convention on human rights, because seriously, yesterday the forearm, which was still out by the way, exposed for anyone to see, and today Matt had apparently decided to amuse himself by caressing his face. Kurt almost wanted to cry.
Fingers pressed into smooth, unblemished brown skin, eventually crawling closer to that perfectly shaped ear. Oh God, what was he doing to that ear? His finger and thumb slowly traced down its length, from cutely crinkled cartilage to deliciously studded lobe.
Kurt felt his composure evaporate in the heat of his blush. Feeling his jaw begin to unhinge, Kurt suddenly caught sight of Matt's eyes quickly glancing in his direction. Oh crap. Caught. Quickly turning to face the front, Kurt fought for his composure, feeling ridiculously thankful when Mercedes sank into the seat next to him, able to finally distract himself from Matt with her truly heinous outfit.
"Hey homeboy."
Resolutely facing forward, "I can't look at you right now Mercedes, I just can't." Turning to face her, "I just don't understand why. Why 'Cedes? Oh my Gucci. Your house burnt down didn't it? Your house burnt down, all your clothes were lost, and a particularly vicious clothing charity gave you those... those rags" A sympathetic expression spread across Kurt's face, or at least the small area visible beyond his huge sunglasses, because house fire or not, Kurt still preferred his retina intact thank you very much Mr. Neon Green Charity Hoodie.
"Hold up white boy. I'm fine, my house is fine, and my clothes are fine."
"Mercedes, I hate to break it to you, but your clothes are NOT fine. And neither are you if you think there's nothing wrong; you must have had some sort of psychotic break or something, because seriously," Kurt waved a hand imperiously up and down Mercedes' figure, "Not fine."
Mercedes cuffed the back of Kurt's head, dislodging his sunglasses, messing up his carefully styled hair and generally irritating him. Just as he opened his mouth to vent that irritation, Mercedes, not without some smugness, said, "Are you tripping homeboy, or didn't you notice that as a direct result of these admittedly bright clothes gracing this hot booty, that Matt Rutherford, 'Mute Matt', talked to you. Using words. Way to be grateful."
Mouth snapping shut, Kurt slowly slid off his sunglasses, and, unable to stop the instinctive squint at Mercedes' 'bright' ensemble, painted on his bitch-face.
"That fiasco was your doing? I hope you realise what a complete disaster it was. I accused him of suicidal tendencies and insulted his wardrobe, not to mention looking like a moron unable to string two words together thanks to your little catwalk. And don't call him Mute Matt."
Raising her eyebrow, Mercedes responded, "Baby, it can't have been that bad, because you haven't barricaded yourself in the girl's bathroom for a day of moisturising. I know you. Something a little good must have happened, so spill."
"Ok yeah, it wasn't all bad. There was his use of polysyllabic words, in proper syntactic order no less. And I may have sort of demanded his presence for an emergency shopping trip this Saturday. I can't decide if that was a good move or not."
"Kurt, that was genius! Maybe not genius of the Plan A variety, but you're getting there. Matt is definitely sending out Kurt flavoured vibes, and after spending an entire day with him maybe even you will be able to pick them up. They're coming over so strong I'm close to gagging. I swear white boy, aren't you supposed to have gaydar?" Mercedes looked incredulously at a defensive Kurt.
"You know I can never tell when things are personal. Give me a wanna be celebrity and two seconds of video footage and I'm better than a polygraph. In the real world of glamorous McKinley High, well, you remember Finn."
Looking at Kurt's slightly shamefaced expression, a smiling Mercedes relented, "Lucky you have me then isn't it? I also know that Matt is interested because the poor boy thought your hallway chat this morning was his idea. Hah! I even got paid."
Just as Kurt was about to quiz Mercedes on how she'd managed to work that scam, Mrs. Whitten waltzed into the classroom in a paisley muumuu and clogs. Kurt's brain melted. Attempting to reboot, he once again attempted to classify Mrs. Whitten's apparel. She was in fact wearing, on her person, a muumuu of a purple paisley persuasion while her feel clomped along in clogs. System failure. Reflexively clutching at his Louis Vuitton bag as his stomach roiled, Kurt decided that the worst thing about it, the absolute worst thing, was that Mrs. Whitten was smiling. Not a grimace of pain, nor a self-deprecating grin at her own idiocy for choosing to dress in the dark that morning. No. She was beaming. Kurt choked back a wave of nausea.
Seeing that Kurt had been rendered senseless by the alien life form masquerading as Mrs. Whitten's muumuu, Mercedes chose that instant to say, "And by the way, Finn told Rachel you like Matt. She prepared a speech. Good luck with that."
Kurt let out a small whimper. Just five hours until Glee. This day was so going to drag.
A/N 2 - Originally this chapter was going to include the Rachel/Kurt confrontation, but the chapter was turning into a bit of a monster and I'm aiming for around 2000 words per chapter, so I bumped it into the next one. Sorry for the minor cliffie. Also, I'm not sure what the kids are actually going to be doing in Glee club, so I'm open to suggestions.