Disclaimer: Well, FOX hasn't sued me yet, so I must not have offended them enough. Must try harder.

Note: This chapter contains SPOILERS for the episode Rumours. It's not a particularly long chapter, because I didn't particularly like the episode. I won't get into a rant about this one here, because there was simply too much I didn't like about it. What I did like, or was important, I used. However, I will say I am uber excited about tonight's episode! *heeeeeee~!*

Note 2: No reader shout out again, but only because I couldn't think of where to put one without shoehorning one in. Man, I've gotta stop making promises I can't keep.

READ & REVIEW ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

ElizaKat001 – Thank you so much, you make me blush! Yeah, a lot of people who are Kurtofsky fans take a very anti-Santana approach, but I see the appeal in the "each other's beards" thing, and the potential humor. Even though I'm a Briartie fan, I sympathize a lot with Santana on her story. It's a far more interesting love triangle than the whole Quinn/Finn/Rachel thing.

RoseBelikov'at'Nyx(dot)Vamp – Thank you so much again! Yeah, the "bobcat in makeup" line's actually my favorite one of that chapter, lol.

Nini the Electrocuted Sheep – Ohohoho, how right you were about Rumours, lol. You psychic you. But tonight. Prom Night! SQUEE!

Kurtofskyoverklaine, AZNsexiness, LizzyPoodle, mistyhaze420, the pink post-it, and Black Luna – Thanks so much for your reviews and for reading, guys! As usual, please keep reading and reviewing!

Chapter 8

Kurt's conversation with Blaine about the rumors revolving around his illicit affair with Sam was… disappointing. He wasn't exactly expecting screaming and kicking. But at least a hint of jealousy would have been nice, even flattering. Instead he got…

"So… Sam, huh?"

Kurt shrugged at the playful glint in his beau's eye. "What can I say? We'd make a cute couple."

"Hey."

"Not as cute as us, of course. But Sam has his own charms."

"Like his bottle-job blond hair?"

"You're not supposed to sound entertained by this. I just called another guy charming."

"And he is. Good looking, too."

"Blaine…"

"What?"

"You're supposed to ask me if I really cheated with him!"

"I know you didn't."

"Oh? And how is that?"

"You're not the cheating type."

"How do you know?" Kurt challenged. "I've never been in a relationship before. Neither have you, for that matter. I could be totally promiscuous. Unable to tie myself down to one guy no matter what."

Blaine laughed. "Do you want me to think you'd cheat on me?"

"Well, no," the other singer admitted, pouting. "But you could at least entertain the idea."

The Warbler simply laughed it off again, pulling him in close for a kiss.

And it bothered Kurt. Not that he didn't think he was capable of having an affair, because honestly Kurt probably couldn't if he tried. It was the fact that Blaine was so damned sure of it. He didn't even seem to pause to consider the idea. Sure, he didn't really want to cheat on the dark-haired young man, but there was no thrill behind that much assurance. It should have simply shown how much Blaine trusted and loved him. To Kurt, it simply resonated as wrong.

()()()()()

"…so Quinn then storms right out of the club, I mean she made me look understanding and unassuming in comparison! I mean, sure Rachel's a pathetic cling, but even I can't believe she actually demanded…"

"Santana!"

"What?" the Latina snapped back at Dave, glaring. She couldn't believe he had the audacity to actually interrupt her rant.

"You've been ranting about the club for the last…" the football player checked his watch, "…thirty-two minutes. I tuned you out thirty-one minutes ago. I don't care."

Santana's jaw dropped. Did Dave just essentially tell her to shut up? "I'm going to give you a little tip. When your girlfriend starts talking, you listen, no questions, no interruptions, until she's done. I don't care if you don't care, I'm venting, and that's an important aspect of my day!"

"You're not really my girlfriend; I don't have to actually take this!"

"That's what you think! You want this to work out, you'll listen when I'm talking to-"

"Why didn't you show up for Fondue For Two?"

That shut Santana up, literally. Her mouth snapped closed faster than if he'd thrown something foul at it.

"You told me you were going to go on there and if I knew what was good for me I'd watch. So I did, and Brittany said you texted her that you couldn't. I spent five minutes watching her interview her cat. As entertaining as that is, it's not what I watched it for."

Santana pursed her lips together, leaning back in her seat. "I don't have to justify anything to you."

"Bull. You want to rave at me for an hour, fine. But you can rave about something I actually want to hear about. What was that all about?"

The former Cheerio glared at her drink for a minute before finally answering. "She broke up with Artie." It was said bitterly.

"So? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Not like that! He called her stupid!"

"She is stupid."

"But he's not allowed to say it! It hurt her feelings!"

"Someone stop the presses, Santana Lopez cares about someone's feelings!"

"Shut up, Karofsky!" she slammed a hand on the table. "It's not funny!"

"Do you see me laughing?" the football player challenged. "It's not funny. Do you know how pathetic it is to watch a nearly grown woman interview her own cat on the internet? Funny as it was, she was obviously upset you didn't turn up. I mean, hell, even I could see that."

"Jesus, since when do you care about her feelings?"

"Since the sooner you just admit you're Lebanese and want to go back to boinking your best friend, I can move on with my damned life!"

"Well, guess what, Karofsky? I'm not ready for that step yet, so you should just get used to sitting here listening, because now I have even more to get off my chest!"

Dave groaned, nearly slamming his head on the table. This was going to be the longest day of his life.

()()()()()

"No…" Kurt stood, staring horrified at his surroundings. It wasn't right. Why was he back here? He'd long since left Dalton, their rules, their uniform, everything behind. He wasn't confined by its regulations and dress code anymore. So why was he trapped again?

He leaned his forehead against the gilded bars of his cage, squeezing his eyes shut. "No… no… no…" He shook his head and opened his eyes again; trying to will this nightmare away, imagine being anywhere but there. But hard as he tried, he couldn't escape it.

The laughter started more abruptly this time.

Loud. Close.

Right behind him.

Kurt could feel the headless creature reaching for him, his breath catching in his throat. He was tired. He couldn't fight anymore. Let the creature do with him what it wished, he just wanted to never have this nightmare again.

That was when he heard it.

Music. Bird music.

Through the bars where he sat awaiting his fate, a small yellow canary flew and landed on his shoulder. Kurt watched in wonder as the little canary opened its little beak and let forth a cry so shrill it was almost deafening. The headless Dalton student stumbled backwards, quieting. After a moment it faded away.

The effeminate young man reached up to his shoulder and patted the canary on the head. He knew his rescuer. "…Pavarotti?"

The canary whistled happily at him, hopping off his shoulder onto the ground outside of the cage and looking at him expectantly.

"I can't… I can't escape, I…"

"Yes, you can."

Kurt froze in place. For being seemingly impenetrable, so many seemed to be coming and going from his prison. He turned to face he who spoke this time. He came face to face with…

Himself.

Wearing a schoolgirl skirt.

There were so many questions he could have asked at that moment. So many questions he should have asked. Instead, what came from his lips was, "Is that Rachel's skirt?"

"Kind of," the other him practically glided across the cage towards him, airing a confidence he only wished he could mirror. "It's a long story. I have a better question. What in the world is keeping you here?" It didn't seem like a profound question. He asked it as an honest inquiry.

Pavarotti flapped his wings and flew up onto the dream Kurt's shoulder this time, singing into his ear.

"I see…" Dream-Kurt answered, pondering the bars. The real Kurt watched in fascination and confusion. The dream entity grasped the bars and jiggled them a bit. Sure enough, they didn't even budge. "How odd. You shouldn't still be stuck in here, should you?"

"I know, I shouldn't," Kurt nodded, standing and joining him at the bars. He wasn't sure why talking to this new dream-version of himself didn't feel as odd as it should have. But it felt almost natural for him to be standing there with him. "I left Dalton; I'm back in McKinley where I belong. I managed to salvage my relationship with Blaine on my way, but…"

"Wait!"

Kurt shut his mouth as his dream-self snapped at him. Even Pavarotti jumped off the other his shoulder to join the real him instead.

"Rewind what you just said. Repeat."

Kurt blinked but complied. "I said I left Dalton…"

"No no, after that."

"I'm still with Blaine?"

"Again."

"What?"

"Say it again."

"I'm still with Blaine."

"One more time."

"This is ridiculous!"

"Humor me."

Kurt sighed. "I'm still with Blaine."

Dream-Kurt contemplated the bars with a finger on his chin, repeating that slowly. "You're still with Blaine…"

"Yes, is that a problem?" the real singer snapped.

Dream-Kurt simply turned his green eyes on the real thing, lips curling into a smile.

The New Directions member couldn't believe what his dream entity just implied. He gritted his teeth. "There is not a problem with me being with Blaine! I'm happy with him! I love him!"

All at once, the laughter returned. Both Kurts turned to look around the cage in alarm. This time, however, the headless student didn't appear.

"Kurt…!"

From its echoed distance, the voice of his savior emerged from the outside of the cage at the same time.

Dream-Kurt looked from the inside of the cage to the outside. "I see…" He pushed himself away from the bars, hurrying towards the shadows he had melted into the dream from.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Kurt asked urgently, watching his surroundings in case the creature whom tormented decided to sneak up on him again.

"I have to take care of something, you have to trust me. Don't worry, Pavarotti will protect you. I'll be back, I promise!"

As the Dream-Kurt disappeared again, leaving the real one alone again. No, not alone. He had Pavarotti to keep him company now.

Kurt sighed, looking at the canary. It whistled back at him happily. "Great. I'm stuck in a gilded cage in my own subconscious with a ghost canary and another me wearing one of Rachel's skirts. And the canary is keeping me safe from a headless Warbler. If this wasn't so frightening, it would be hilarious."