So here's what you missed on Glee:
Summer's started and the Hudmel house is unsupervised for hours at a time, which would be better for Kurt and Blaine if they weren't always getting interrupted by Rachel and Finn, or that one time Puck. But really, the worst time was Rachel.
Karofsky and Santana are pretending to date to hide their secret, and Sam and Mercedes are secretly dating. Plus Sam and Mercedes hate Karofsky, and Karofsky has a crush and somewhat scary sex dreams about Sam. Yeah. It's weird like that.
Santana's sad because Brittany is spending the summer in Iceland, and she doesn't know if Brittany loves her or not. Mike is mad because Tina said she loves him, but still ditched another summer at Asian Camp with him to perform at Six Flags in Los Angeles. And Puck is sad because he loves Lauren and she's going to be in Oregon at wrestling camp all summer. He's really sad. Like devastated.
Plus, Finn is trying to prove he can keep up with Rachel when she moves to New York next year to become a star, and Rachel is trying to get everyone to audition for the community theater production of West Side Story, even though it'll probably be really lame.
Speaking of really lame, Jesse St. James is back in Ohio
And that's what you missed on
GLEE!
Dear Journal,
I find myself in a conundrum, Journal. In a fit of conscious, compassion and quickly staunched floods of actual emotion caused by Jeanie's funeral, I did something terrible: I volunteered.
Not only did I agree to spend both my time and talent without compensation, I Sue Sylvester, have been outfoxed! Anderson, Anderson and Andersen, the law firm I depend on to force through even the broadest of my contractual demands, have an actor turned director in their midst, and, not content to armchair presenter his way through a vibrantly homosexual Oscar party, he has made himself a Board Member for the Lima Community Playhouse, taken advantage of my moment of heartfelt weakness, and locked me in to choreographing West Side Story: a musical as insipid as it is racist.
My only recourse is to find my own replacement, which would mean finding an artistic personality and putting myself in danger of two things: being close enough to an artistic personality to smell their disgusting, bohemian body odor, and encouraging an artistic personality to pursue exactly the type of dreams that, once inevitably crushed, will engender the same sort of starry-eyed nostalgia that powers Will Shuester's disastrous belief in his aggravating glee club.
What can I do, Journal? Either way I am encouraging the arts!
If only I could push this off onto some self-absorbed, acerbic bastard who could crush the spirits of those hippies so that I don't have to, and can return to my previous summer plans of hijacking Sarah Palin's tour bus for a patriotically tinged re-enactment of "Speed"!
A knock sounded at Sue's office door, too confident a knock to have come from some brown-noser just come by to wish her a "Nice Summer". The door swung inward, admitting a curly haired hipster boy, wearing an ironic scarf.
"Miss Sylvester," he stuck his hand out, straight and assertive, "Jesse St. James. We've only met briefly. My father's connections at Anderson, Anderson, and Andersen have made me privy to the information that you are slated to choreograph The Lima Community Theater's production of-"
"I'm gonna stop you right there, Grease Lightning," Sue said, whipping her glasses off. "Just tell what you want so I can mock or join you."
"Rachel Berry will audition for this play. She will get the female lead. Everything else is up for grabs, and will be heavily dependent on who is in on the casting discussions. I need to keep Fi-"
"Get to the point."
"I want to direct."
"Can't do that. You'll choreograph."
"Acceptable."
"I'll fax you a copy of my contract, bring it to Anderson and tell him you're my official replacement."
"I don't have a fax machine. It's not 1998."
"I like you. Wait here while I make a copy," Sue told him, starting toward her door and stopping just in the frame. "Impress me with this, Greased Lighting, and you might be eligible for The League of Doom, Next Generation."
Blaine wasn't sure how this had happened to him.
He understood how it had begun. Kurt was out with Mercedes for a coffee date and Blaine was supposed to meet him at the Hummel's house. Blaine had gotten there exactly on time. Carol had invited him in, told him he was handsome and given him a brownie, letting him know that Kurt wasn't back yet, but Puck and Finn were upstairs playing video games if he wanted to wait with them, and that she was going to leave for her shift at the dentist's office soon. She was a receptionist, but only worked a half day on Wednesdays. Blaine had waited a few minutes before he got a text from Kurt, letting him know that something had come up, and he was going to be a little late, but when he got back he wanted to play Blaine a couple drafts from "Pip, Pip, Hurray!"
Blaine had grinned to himself. That meant they were actually going to make out, because despite a lot of outlines and research, Kurt hadn't written a word of "Pip, Pip Hurray!" but was too stubborn to admit it, and apparently thought that Blaine would never figure it out, if he kept pretending that he was going to play him some of the songs, and then suggesting that as long as the house was devoid of parents, they should make out instead.
Blaine was extremely thankful to the entire Middleton family for this.
And all of that was par for the course.
But, bored with waiting for Kurt, he had found himself in Finn's room, breathing in the distinct odor of dirty socks, while Finn tried to teach him to how to kill digital zombies with a controller.
And that was a little unexpected.
Blaine didn't play video games. They had been banned in all forms in his house when he was growing up. Then, about a month after he had come out, an X-box and a bunch of football and shoot 'em up games had appeared in the living room. He had played a couple times, because his father would talk to him while they played, and Thad would play with him occasionally, but Blaine had never gotten into it. Certainly not as into it as Finn was.
But Blaine liked Finn and at least Finn was trying to teach him to play as though he was actually concerned about Blaine being eaten by zombies instead of as though he though getting a gun in his hands would send him mercifully into the breasts of some girl passing by.
The weird part was Puck. Because while Carol had been Carol, and Finn was, while perhaps paying him a little more attention than usual, being Finn, Puck was just staring at him.
Something brown and creepy jumped out of nowhere on the screen and began sucking the life out of Blaine's little avatar. Finn yelled commands at him and Blaine forgot which buttons were which and handed the controller back to Finn when "GAME OVER" flashed damningly on the screen over his little digital corpse.
"I don't think this is my game, Finn."
"Don't worry about it, this part… here at the beginning, this part's hard. I'll get you to an easier level quick."
"That's okay," Blaine shrugged, glancing at Puck, who was still staring at him, out of the corner of his eye. "Kurt's supposed to be home soon, so I'll just go-"
"So, Blaine," Puck finally spoke. "You're gay right?"
Blaine felt the beginnings of that tingly, icy feeling he always got down his back when a conversation started with that. "You're gay right?" never, ever, indicated that anything he wanted to hear was going to follow. Even if it was Puck, who seemed to like him and who occasionally encouraged same-sex cuddling.
"Well, Puck, he's Kurt's boyfriend, if that gives you a clue or anything," Finn answered for him, without even looking up from his zombie killing rampage.
"No I mean… okay, so you're gay and you go to an all boys school."
Blaine sighed. This was Kurt's brother's best friend. This conversation was happening and there was nothing he could do about it now. "Yes. I am gay. Yes. I go to an all boys school."
"And you're like, super into Kurt right?"
"I am very much in love with Kurt," Blaine answered. Finn elbowed him in a weirdly gentle, friendly way. An approving way, that Blaine would have to make sure he mentioned to Kurt later, because while Kurt had forgiven Finn for the incident in the basement last year, he was very very much not over it.
"Okay… so just…" Puck leaned down to look Blaine in the eye, much more intensely than Blaine was comfortable with, "What in the hell did you do when Kurt came back to McKinley and you were just running around Gay Hogwarts missing him like hell with temptation… just freaking everywhere?"
"Is this about Lauren?" Blaine asked.
"It's always about Lauren," Finn sighed.
"Shove it, Hudson, all you ever talk about is Rachel and you haven't even seen her boobs!"
"Okay, guys, even I know that girls hate this sort of thing," Blaine interrupted. He was a little shocked when Puck calmed back down immediately and returned to looking at him with intense interest. "Umm…well," Blaine searched for a way to answer everything that was wrong with Puck's original question. "You do know that there aren't that many out gay kids at Dalton right?"
"Really?" Finn asked.
"Yeah. Other than Kurt it was actually just me and this really shy senior. Just because there's a zero tolerance policy doesn't mean that all that many kids can come out. So it's not really 'Gay Hogwarts'," Blaine said, with a little smirk to himself. At thirteen he would have been willing to spend all of his time sitting on his roof sniping owls out of the sky if he thought there could be such a thing as Gay Hogwarts.
"But a guy wouldn't have to be… an actual option for him to be tempting right? I mean… you looked right?"
Blaine was very aware of Finn pausing the game and looking at him intently. "Umm… no actually," he answered, pretty sure he could be forgiven for omitting 'except one time when Thomas was yelling about something in the locker room and I didn't expect abs like that.' He had looked, but he hadn't looked.
"See. Now I feel like scum," Puck sighed. "I don't want to look, but I still look, you know? And I know myself. I'm a screw up. All I want is Lauren, but it's a long summer of bikini's and boobs, and girls who are not Lauren. I don't want to end up screwing this up before she gets back."
"Why don't you try to focus on something other than girls?" Blaine suggested. Puck and Finn both snorted.
"Yeah. Easy for you to say, little dude," Puck said, slapping him on the back fraternally.
"Hah hah. Very funny," Blaine sighed. "I'm serious. Why don't you work on your music. Or bone up on your bad ass history?"
"Like John Wayne?"
"Actually, I see you as more of a Kerouac type," Blaine said, shrugging. It fit. It was a little pretentious to pretend he just knew that instead of admitting that it had been the last book they'd had to read in English that year. He hadn't really liked it that much, but the prose was wonderful. Something about it just screamed "Puck".
"I've got it in my bag. I'll lend it to you."
"What's Kerouac?"
"It's a book."
"It's summer," Finn objected.
"They still have books in the summer."
"Anything to get my mind off Lauren," Puck sighed.
"I'll be right back," Blaine told them, jumping up as Finn unpaused the game and went back to killing herds of zombies.
He hit the bottom of the stairs just as Kurt walked inside, flushed from the heat and looking pinkly beautiful in a short sleeved…something, with buttons all around the neck that didn't look like they actually did anything.
"Hey, how is Mercedes?" Blaine asked.
"Secretive and less than subtle,' Kurt sighed, setting his back down melodramatically before kicking off his shoes, smiling at Blaine and stepping forward to kiss him, threading his fingers into their new favorite place, the loose hair at the nape of Blaine's neck.
"Did Carol just leave you alone in the house?"
"Finn and Puck are upstairs playing video games."
"Mmmh," Kurt sighed, managing to convey disinterest, disappointment, and just a little bit of condescension without actual words. Blaine leaned forward to kiss him.
"Hmm, you taste like coffee," Blaine said quietly.
"How occupied do you think Finn and Puck are?" Kurt asked, just a little breathless.
"I thought you were going to show me how far you had gotten on 'Pip Pip Hooray'?" Blaine said, trying hard not to tease and almost succeeding.
"Maybe later," Kurt said, tilting his chin up and across the millimeters between their lips.
"Occupied enough. Finn's killing zombies and I'm going to go give Puck this book."
Kurt pulled back and gave him a look of something a little more like pity than like mocking.
"A book?"
"On the Road. Jack Kerouac. I think a little dissatisfied beat generation angst might be good for him."
"You carry around 'On The Road'?" Kurt demanded.
"School book. Haven't cleaned out my bag for the summer yet and gotten it re-packed with sunscreen and swim trunks and a towel."
"It's cute the way your voice lilts up like that. Like you really think you could convince me to do something involving any of those things."
"I have a pool. My parents go away for the weekend a lot."
Kurt pulled away a little, pursing his lips with a little frown.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just… go give Puck your book. I'll meet you in my room."
Blaine nodded, and hurried up the stairs, wondering where he had lost Kurt. He hadn't been pushing. He knew he hadn't been pushing. He and Kurt had been alone in the house together once since the "Rachel Berry "Deodorant" Train Wreck Extravaganza" and the heat of the day and the fact that Blaine was expected at home to clean up and go to his aunt's house for dinner had put the kibosh on going even just as far as they had last time.
So they had made out and sort of talked about it. They didn't say anything about boundaries or activities, they had just mutually agreed to keep the lines of communication open, stay open and honest with each other. To be clear when time alone meant anything other than just that. It was enough for now.
He handed the book off to Puck, who saluted him with it, but flipped it over to read the back.
"I got you to an easier part of the level. Do you want to try again?" Finn asked, holding the controller out to Blaine.
"Kurt's home," Blaine shrugged hoping he sounded casual. Puck wolf whistled. Finn hit him in the stomach with a "Dude!"
Puck rolled his eyes at Blaine and Blaine tried to play if off with a quick and less confident than he was hoping for "On that note-" before ducking out of Finn's room.
Kurt arrived in his room moments after Blaine did, carrying two glasses of lemonade and handing one to Blaine before settling himself primly on his bed and glancing up at Blaine. Blaine sat next to him. Open and honest, he thought.
"Did I freak you out?"
Kurt looks shocked. "With 'On the Road'?"
"By suggesting you come over and swim while my parents are gone? Cause… you know I'm not angling for-"
"No. I know. I just…"
"What is it?"
"Okay. It's a couple things."
"Okay."
"You don't have to act like the one who is always pushing me into bedroom things. I don't want you and Finn defending my virtue all the time. I'm cautious, I'm not a girl. I'm a teenage boy just like you guys."
"I know that. That's not-"
"I know that's not what you meant. It's okay. Really. Just… for future reference. And umm…" Kurt looks deep into his lemonade glass, as though there are important answers to the universe being spelled out by his ice.
"And umm?" Blaine prompts.
Kurt pulled his gaze up from his glass. "Blaine- do your parents know about me?"
"What?" Blaine asked, genuinely taken aback.
"I know you and your Dad have some problems. It's okay if they don't. I just… I just want to know."
Blaine took a deep drink of his lemonade. "They do know about you. I told them about you when you started at Dalton. Before that I was pretending that I was going to plays and stuff with Thad and Nick because I didn't think they would handle me running all over town with some other gay kid very well. And they know we're dating but I only told them a month ago. They are… they're trying. I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."
Kurt set his glass down on his night table and settled against Blaine, letting Blaine put his arm around him, which Blaine took as a good sign. Kurt hated to be touched when he was upset.
"Are you mad?" Blaine asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it.
"Of course not," Kurt said.
"I've been telling them more about you since Prom," Blaine said. "About your musical and your school and just… you know, about you. I want them to meet you… I just… I want them to want to meet you a little bit more."
"That's okay. I don't want to get… shoved in their faces or anything."
"I've got our Prom picture on my desk."
"With the crown and everything?" Kurt asked, squeezing his eyes shut so hard that Blaine could feel Kurt's face moving against his bare arm.
"I think you look beautiful in that picture." Blaine said defensively.
Kurt snorts, putting on his 'changing the subject' voice, "You have no taste."
Blaine took another sip of lemonade, reached across Kurt to set his glass on the nightstand as well, and took Kurt's face in his hand as he settled back against the pillows.
"Of course I do," Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt deeply.
Rachel was standing in the stacks of the local music store, so buried in her decision between "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" and "My Man" that she was almost not thinking about the promising beginning, eventual heartrending destruction, and oddly second act-ish revival of her relationship with Jesse St. James, which of course at started at the piano not five feet from where she was standing.
While she hated to repeat an audition, "My Man" was a perfect way to showcase exactly the type of vocal range and emotional depth she would need for Maria, and she really had nailed it during her audition for Nationals. And it wasn't as though anyone but Mr. Shue had seen it, and there was nothing wrong with having a repertoire of auditions songs from which to draw. She wasn't in nearly this type of quandary about her monologue choices.
A voice- husky, sexy, and unmistakable- started across the music store, pulling Rachel from her decision.
In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever
It was jazzier than Rachel would do it. Totally unfitting for a classic like Les Mis, or West Side Story for that matter, but appealing, the different timbre of voice and pacing of the song certainly notice catching.
And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say, there's a way for us
Rachel emerged from the shelves, alarmed at how many people were already watching the slim, beautiful Latina sitting on the piano, belting her heart out.
I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers
One or two members of the crowd, young men, Rachel noted, were watching Santana more raptly than anyone had ever watched her, even though her technical precision out classed Santana's sultry style.
I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life
I've only been pretending
Without me
His world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known
I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own
The crowd clapped, and Santana nodded, less an acknowledgement of their praise than a gesture of letting them know she was bothering to stick around for their attention when she had better things to do.
A figure rose behind her, and Rachel felt her jaw drop open of its own accord as the flush face of the piano player behind Santana was revealed.
And if the shock of that hadn't been enough, Santana turned to Karofsky and said, sickly sweet, "Come on Dave, we've got an audience, sing your audition piece."
Karofsky shook his head and Santana, uncharacteristically, gave up. They took their music and walked out the door, leaving Rachel dumbstruck, desperate to find out if David Karofsky could sing or not.