A/N Hey guys. Sorry this update didn't come as quickly as I would have liked. The first half didn't want to write itself. The Warblers are really difficult to get right. I'm a little nervous about how you guys are going to take this chapter actually but it is over 8,000 words, my longest to date so hopefully that'll make up for any issues you have with it :S
Thank you a thousand times over for your thoughtful, kind and helpful Reviews and Alerts and Favourites. I appreciate my readers so much.
Also I just got myself a Tumblr account: sarkyblueeyes . tumblr . com. I will post previews of my chapters in future on there especially if there is a long gap between updates.
Anyway enough delay. I hope you like it :)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but Matt, Jade and Saffron in this chapter (there isn't a lot of them) Fox and Ryan Murphy are the lucky owners of Glee.
Chapter Ten - Propositions and Progress
It took Kurt and me ten minutes to decide we had no choice but to inform the New Directions of this interesting development.
"Safety in numbers," I reason.
"Oh yeah, three bumbling football players, a pirouetting football player, a screeching hobbit, a daddy longlegs ditz, a guy in a wheelchair and a bunch of diva's are totally going to be backup for us against an entire school of preps," Kurt says sarcastically. He sips his coffee in thought.
"I don't understand how they got it in my pocket so quick." My hand taps at the table in agitation. "When did they have time?"
Kurt purses his lips in thought and I have to drag my gaze away from them before my imagination runs amuck. A faint blush colors my cheeks.
"The lead singer did move between us in the middle of the performance," he says.
My eyes widen in recognition. He's right he did. But … wait that makes no sense. In order to have gotten it in my pocket during the performance it would have needed to be … Oh. "Damn they're good." I huff out.
"Uh huh. Preppy boys got skills," Kurt says with mirth over the top of his coffee.
I fight the smirk at his bad attempt at talking like Mercedes. "We have to at least tell the others what's going on," I argue. "If we disappear and never come back they'll wonder what happened to us."
"Mmmm, preppy death." Kurt closes his eyes, a dreamy smile brightening his face. "I'm having a hard time pretending like that isn't one of my many fantasies," Kurt leans back against the chair and sips his coffee with an air of irony.
I roll my eyes and hunch my shoulders up into my chin. He's not taking this seriously at all.
"Blaine, relax." Kurt grabs my hand over the table, his coffee discarded at the side forgotten. "We'll tell the others, okay? I seriously doubt these Dalton guys want to maul us. And if this is their idea of tough talk," he waves the note in my face, "then they need lessons, because this is amateur."
My mouth upturns into a warm smile without permission – it does that a lot around Kurt – and I run my thumb over his. His eyes flicker to our joined hands and I expect him to let go and make an excuse but he holds on and I bite my lip as I, with a wild heartbeat in my chest, shift our hands so our fingers interlace. Kurt's eyebrows shoot up in surprise but the look is gone a moment later.
I look around us to make sure no one is paying attention, but the Lima Bean is relatively quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. I don't know where this daring side is coming from. All I know is he always says the right thing to make me feel better, and it is getting so much more difficult to pretend like my feelings for him are nothing more than casual friendship.
"We should go," I say and clear my dry throat.
Kurt nods. "Uh huh."
Neither of us makes any effort to leave until the way he stares back at me gets too much and my head dips down and away from him.
"So tell me what this guy is like," Jade says from my phone.
I roll my eyes at her nosiness as I walk from English to the choir room. Its lunch time and Kurt has organized for the glee club to meet so we can discuss our Warbler situation.
"There's nothing to tell," I say and poke my tongue between my teeth as she squeals out;
"Blaine Anderson, don't play coy with me. You never shut up about him. It's all; Kurt this, Kurt that, so tell me."
"Could you shout that any louder," I breathe into the phone, looking around warily at the other students who are making their way to the cafeteria, "I don't think the kids on the other side of Ohio heard you."
"Is he cute?"
"I'm not talking to you about this."
"Yes you are, now tell me. Is. He. Cute?"
"Yes," I relent and hold the phone away from my ear as she squeals again.
"What's his butt like?"
"Jade!"
"What? Butts are so important on guys. Straight boys look at boobs, butts and legs. Girls look at guy's butts, pecks and arms."
"You are insufferable, you know that?"
"You love it – oh hang on-" The phone rustles. "What? – no I'm asking what Blaine's boyfriends butt is like – well if it's his boyfriend then clearly I am not asking for my benefit, no - Blaine, Matt wants a word."
I'm bemused by the sound of disjointed bickering before Matt's voice says, "Dude, come home. She does nothing but talk to me about girl stuff now."
I laugh out loud at that. "Since when was I ever the surrogate girl in this trio?"
"Never, but at least with you around I got a break from it," Matt says.
I've reached the choir room now and I cringe as Rachel's screech hits me like a wall of sound. I observe the scene from the doorway,
"… It's like you guys learnt nothing from last year! What were you thinking?"
"Uh, Matt I better go. Glee club drama," I mumble into the phone and walk warily into the choir room.
"Chill out, Berry, it's not like they got beat up, and if they did I'd pound their Dalton asses."
"Don't you Berry me, Noah!" Rachel bears down on where he slouches in his seat. I'm amused to note they are at the same eye level even with her stood. "You put them up to this and now look what you've done. We've got yet another show choir breathing down our necks, because you guys just had to go spy on them. They are going to demand our set list or something worse, like forcing the best singers to not sing lead in Sectionals or they'll tell the show choir board what we did, and what am I left to do? Sway in the back? No, no, no you are going to fix this and you are going to fix this now!"
It's a little like watching one of those tiny dogs that sits in handbags take on a Doberman ten times its size … and the Doberman cowers, I marvel from where Kurt and I are stood near the piano. Kurt mouths a hello and mimes putting a pistol to his head. I grin and lean my arm casually up on his shoulder.
"Okay, I can't believe I'm about to say this but Rachel, tone down the drama," Kurt says over his cuticles with a perfect raised eyebrow. "We made a mistake. Blaine and I will fix it. The only reason we informed you of this little … mishap is so we can have backup should things go awry."
"Kurt they are threatening us," Rachel says.
"Erm," Sam calls from near the back of the choir room. "I used to go to an all boys private school and I seriously doubt they'd have the balls to hurt them or cheat. Their parents are paying way too much money for them to get caught doing something petty like sabotaging another Glee club. They'll have an image to uphold."
"But then why threaten us?" Artie says.
"It's not a threat guys. It's an invitation," I say as I scan over the note in my hand. Now I've calmed down I can see just how tame it really is. "Listen: 'Come back tomorrow. If you're going to spy on us 2 weeks before competition it's only fair we get to know our competition too. Be there.' I honestly think they just want to talk it out."
"That makes no sense," Tina says.
"If I may," Kurt moves forward. "Do you remember last year when I joined the football team, and I got you guys to psych out the opposing team by dancing to Single Ladies?"
I choke on air and stare at the back of his head incredulously. Finn, Puck and Mike grumble their recognition of the event and shift in their seats.
"I told you the idea is to never let the enemy know you. We are the enemy and we, unbeknownst to them, turned up uninvited and saw for ourselves that which makes them stand out. That knowledge so close to Sectionals makes them vulnerable. They are trying to regain some power in the situation."
"So we're just going to give it to them?" Puck says with indignation. "It's not our fault we thought of it first. Fairs fair. Snooze you lose."
"Mature, Noah. Really." Kurt turns his sardonic glare away from him and over to me where it smoothes out into a fond smile. "Blaine can back me up on this. There wasn't much time between getting to the room the performance was held in, watching it and leaving. Therefore that note must have been pre-written before the performance even started."
"Which means they already knew we were there," I add.
"Which leads us to believe either they spotted us while we were walking around and realized straight away that we weren't students …"
"Or, they've spied on us without our knowledge and recognized us. Well, maybe just Kurt," I say thoughtfully. "I've only been a member a week."
"They came here?" Quinn asks.
"We don't have a uniform so it would have been easier for them to blend in. I know I wouldn't have noticed them walking around," Finn says helpfully from beside Rachel, who has retaken her seat once more.
"Not necessarily. Kurt and I suspect they've been spying from afar, on a little website known as YouTube."
"An account which was created named and is to this day regularly updated by none other than Rachel Berry." Kurt smiles sweetly at Rachel who sinks lower in her seat at the realization.
"Nice one Willow," Santana snaps from behind her.
"Look its lunch time now. Blaine and I are going to skip last period and drive down to Dalton and straighten this out. And we think Santana should come with us."
Santana's scowl brightens at this admission.
"What? Why her, she's a girl." Finn gives Kurt an accusing glare.
"Well spotted Frankenfreak."
Kurt rolls his eyes at Santana. "That's why she's coming. There aren't any girls there and despite Pucks rather offensive description of the school as 'Gay Hogwarts' I'd say the vast majority of the guys there are straight. She'll be a good distraction … unless things turn ugly in which case she's tough enough to scratch their eyeballs out." I'm almost afraid of the proud smile Kurt gives her.
"Eyeballs? Please, I'll scratch their nuts off."
"Blaine needs his girlfriend to protect him from a bunch of rich kids?" Puck snorts.
Kurt's shoulders stiffen at his words, and his lips thin into a hard line. "The three of us will let you guys know the outcome the moment we leave Dalton later," he says tightly, and with a graceful turn on his heel walks out of the choir room. Confused by his abrupt departure, I signal to the others that the meeting is over and Santana walks with me so I can brief her.
Santana releases a low whistle from the backseat as I pull the car into a space in the student lot at Dalton.
"Are the guys here as fancy looking as the building?" she asks.
"Pretty much," I say and check my watch. It's a little past four.
"Wanky."
"Your boyfriends in the car, Santana," Kurt reminds her with a dull voice.
"I never said we were exclusive, Ladyface," Santana snaps and stalks out of the car.
I watch as she makes her slow way towards the building in an attempt to not look at the boy beside me. He's been strangely subdued the entire two hour journey. If I didn't know better I would assume he had some kind of male version of PMS.
"They didn't say where we're supposed to meet them," I realize aloud.
"Let's just walk in and see what happens," Kurt mumbles and unbuckles his seat belt. He reaches for the door but I grab his arm to still him.
"Kurt I … are you okay?" I ask in confusion.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he says shortly, pulls his arm free and slams the car door shut. I shake my head at the steering wheel as his figure disappears behind a parked car. Maybe there is a male version of PMS.
When I arrive in the Entrance Hall of the main building, Santana and Kurt are already stood by a group of four boys who are off to the side. I recognize one of them immediately as the lead singer from yesterday's performance. The other three I have a vague recollection of. The Asian boy nods at me as I approach.
"Welcome to Dalton. We would have said so yesterday but you seemed to be in a hurry to leave."
The four boys share amused glances and I straighten my back in an attempt to give off even a fraction of the aura of superiority they seem to possess in spades.
"My name is Wes," the Asian boy continues. "This is David and Thad of the Warblers Council, and our main vocalist Nick."
"Are you going to get to the point and threaten us or what, because I'm bored already," Santana says.
The boy called David surveys her with a genuine smile. "Our apologies for boring the lady. We'll go to the common area for our … talk."
We follow after them one by one, the only sound Santana's voice mumbling something which sounds suspiciously like "Holy crap are these guys for real?"
The entire experience is bewildering from start to finish. From the civilized way we enter the common room and settle around a large rectangular table, the Warblers on one side, us on the other, down to the offer of coffee. No seriously, they offer the spy's who broke into their school a hot beverage.
Santana declines the offer, and shoots me and Kurt filthy glares when we say a timid "yes."
"Did you two get dropped on your heads at birth?" she hisses at us when the Warblers leave the room to retrieve our drinks. "If I've learnt anything from coach Sylvester it's that you don't accept anything from the competition. We're in their territory. They could put something in it. At least a slushie is cold! If they throw coffee at you you'll be scarred. And I ain't getting up on that if it's disfigured." She gives my body the once over.
Kurt and I exchange worried glances. I hadn't thought of that, which is really stupid considering my experience with Peter Lance putting itching powder and other harmful substances in my food. The Warblers return with our coffee's and I peek at the contents of mine gingerly.
"Thank you," Kurt says and clears his throat, cocking his head with an air of nonchalance. "It's very civilized of you to invite us for coffee before you beat us up for spying."
"We are not going to be you up." Wes's tone is serious, earnest, and my shoulders visibly relax. I still don't take a sip of the brown mixture before me.
"You two were such terrible spies that we found you both … endearing," David added.
"We've had Vocal Adrenaline and Aural Intensity break into the school before now and they did a lot of damage," Thad says. "In fact you can thank them for us finding you guys out so quickly. The school boosted security after Vocal Adrenaline came and trashed the Senior Commons. A junior member spotted you in the monitors when he visited the offices and alerted us right away."
I scan the room in search of these cameras and sure enough, there's one in the far left hand corner ceiling, above the door aimed directly at us. I shiver under the knowledge there is probably an entire glee club watching our exchange right now in another part of the school.
"We've had similar experiences with Vocal Adrenaline," Kurt says. "I don't want to be rude but if you didn't call us here to beat us up, why?"
"We have a proposition for you," Wes says.
Santana cocks her head in interest and opts for a devilish smile. "What kind of proposition?" she purrs.
Nick who is closest to Santana jumps out of his seat a little and clears his throat. I narrow my eyes and look near her lap where I can just about see her hand rests on Nick's thigh and travels higher. "Not that kind, but uh ..."
She shrugs and removes her hand. I smirk at the disappointment etched on his face and the burning red of Nick's ears. "Shame."
"We know a little more about your clubs history than you might think," Thad says. "We know that Vocal Adrenaline has messed with you in the past. I understand their former front man Jesse St. James transferred to your Glee club last year and dropped you a week before Regional's, correct?"
I shrug. Kurt and Santana exchange worried looks however so I gather that what they say has at least some truth to it.
"We also know that the Arts program at your school has trouble with funding, and your administration has said if you don't do well in competition, your club will be disbanded."
My eyebrows furrow in thoughtful confusion. Kurt tenses beside me and I grab his hand in concern. I'm nonplused by what they are saying. No one has mentioned any of this to me. Not even a casual, 'Oh hey Blaine, guess what, you know that club we've been badgering you to join? Yeah, so if we don't place at Sectional's there won't be a club anymore. Sucks right?'
Kurt leans forward, his eyes not leaving Thad's. "You guys have done a lot more than spy on YouTube," he observes aloud.
Thad gives us a wry smile.
"This isn't a threat, Kurt. It is an opportunity," David says from beside Thad. "We, like you have been victims of the clubs that bend the rules to win. We lost to Vocal Adrenaline at Sectionals last year because they psyched us out the day before competition. We were completely off our game."
"Assholes." I blanch at the word coming from Wes. It's the first show of emotion I've seen from him. "All that hard work, and for what?"
"We've never gotten involved with petty rivalries before now. Dalton is an institution of class and honor. However the behavior of these two clubs has forced our hand. Aural Intensity and Vocal Adrenaline are both going to win their Sectionals, the former because of blackmail, and the latter thanks to their new singer Sunshine Corazon, who I understand was stolen from under your noses."
"That was Rachel's fault," Santana supplies for my benefit, leaning around Kurt. "She sent her to a crack house."
I have no time to react to this revelation before the Warblers speak again.
"Our proposition is dependent on whether you or we win Sectionals," Wes says. "If you win, your club won't get disbanded and you'll go on to compete against Aural Intensity. But if we win, you will no longer exist. If this happens our school is willing to pass an Arts grant on to your school courtesy of Warbler Nick, whose Dad is on the Dalton school board, which means your club will have the funding to keep going for another year. With you guys still in business we'll both have an ally against the two most dangerous clubs in this state should they try something at Regional's or Nationals."
I smile at them in excitement. Are they serious? I look to Kurt and Santana keen to share my glee at this new development, but they aren't looking at me. Rather they exchange a silent conversation I have no part of. Kurt finally leans back in his seat as Santana stands and perches against the table with her legs crossed daintily, Cheerio's skirt riding up her thighs.
"Okay what's the catch?" she glares down at them suspiciously.
"No catch," David says, his eyes nowhere near her eye level.
"Bullshit." She stands again and leans down, hands flat against the table. "If there is anything we have learned in the last year, it's that there is no such thing as charity in show choir. What. Is. The. Catch."
The Warblers expressions are unreadable. As they glance between one another in visible confusion.
"When you guys came to this school yesterday, you observed us and then left. We're willing to overlook that because you did us no harm and we have watched your videos on YouTube. As a private institution we don't publicly broadcast our performances so we are not concerned you witnessed our performance. Fair is fair. You guys are one of the only half decent show choirs in Ohio that seems to be as honest and victimized as we are. Honestly we just want to help."
I squeeze Kurt's arm. "That's nice of you. I think it's a good idea,"
I look to Kurt to see if he agrees. His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly raised with his head tilted towards me. He smiles tepidly at the Warblers and Santana.
"Will you excuse us?" He doesn't wait for a response and I'm dragged across the room by his deceptive small, but strong arm.
"What's wrong?" I ask. My eyebrows knit together.
"Blaine, you're not seriously falling for this, right?" Kurt dips his head to look into my eyes seriously.
I gulp and try to concentrate on his words rather than the way his eyes seem to meld between watery green and grey. "Fall for what? They are offering us a 'Get of Jail Free' card. Even if we don't win Sectionals we'll still exist."
Kurt rubs at his forehead tiredly and gives me a wane and crooked smile. "You have no idea how fond I am of you, but you are so naïve sometimes."
My arms fold across my chest petulantly. "No I'm not."
"Yes you are." He glances at the table and cups my face in his hands and I'm frozen to the spot, my breathing shallow. "I know you haven't been here very long but I – Santana is right. There is no such thing as charity in show choir. We learnt that the hard way. We can't accept that grant from them even if we lose."
"Why not?"
"They are bribing us."
"They just said there's no catch."
"And if a lion promised not to eat you, would you believe it and fall asleep?"
What's that got to do with anything? "Huh?"
"I don't know what they are up to but, that grant wouldn't go unrewarded. I just can't figure out their angle."
"They told us what the reward for them is. Having one more honest show choir in Ohio and an ally," I say earnestly.
Kurt opens his mouth to argue but seems to decide against it. He shakes his head at me wonderingly and one of the smallest, gentlest and – I internally scold myself for thinking this - sexiest smiles lights up his features. "You are so trusting." He sighs and rubs his thumb against my cheek absent mindedly. His cool touch ignites a fire beneath my flesh which ripples down my spine. I bite my bottom lip.
"So what are we going to do?"
Kurt checks his watch and takes my hand again dragging me back to the table where Santana is keeping a cool eye on the four Warblers.
"Well, have you come to a decision?" Thad asks.
"This isn't the type of decision we can make without consulting our entire glee club," Kurt says. "We'll be in touch." Kurt nods at Santana who lifts out of the seat she's reclaimed. I wave at the Warblers in a feeble gesture and turn away.
"Wait Blaine," Wes calls. He hands a small card over. I glance at Kurt stood mere steps from me; arms folded watching our exchange closely. "If your boyfriend changes his mind or the club takes us up on our offer, here's my number."
I blink at him. "I'm sorry, boyfriend?"
Wes nods at Kurt who has turned a deep crimson. I openly gape at Wes. "Oh no, he's not my – I mean it's not that he's not – but I-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Wes cringes and looks between us apologetically. "I thought with the way you two are around one another, I just assumed."
"Actually Blaine is my boyfriend, moron, but nicely observed," Santana snarls and pulls me into a kiss. I sigh dejectedly and allow her to do it, all too aware of Kurt's stiff presence beside me. She releases my face and I stumble backwards slightly.
"We'll be in touch," Santana says with a sweet smile and with a swish of her skirt stalks towards the exit. I follow after her, trying not to be affected by the once again subdued figure of Kurt behind me.
I'm not in the mood for a confrontation when I get home but that is precisely what I get the moment I step in the door.
"Where the hell have you been?" My Dad rounds on me.
"With Kurt and Santana," I say and check my watch; it's not even past seven and I'm three hours earlier than curfew, so why the Spanish Inquisition.
"Who is Santana?" he asks. His frown is so pronounced he looks cross eyed.
"His girlfriend," Saffron pipes up from behind Dad. She's sat on the bottom stair, elbows resting against her knees.
Dad's eyes widen at that piece of information. "You're what?"
"Girlfriend," I repeat, "and for the last time she is NOT my girlfriend. She's just this girl who has a habit of throwing herself on me," I admit.
For a moment Dad's expression almost looks proud, but then he schools his features and rests his glare back on me. "And where exactly did you go straight after school with your girlfriend and our neighbor?"
I grind my teeth together. There's no point in lying. "Westerville. We went to have a meeting with a private schools glee club."
"Why?" Saffron asks.
"Oh you know, school competition rivalry and all that," I say vaguely.
Dad nods. His eyes never leave my face as he opens his mouth to say; "and when exactly, were you planning on picking your sister up from school?"
It's like Karofsky has thrown a slushie at me when the realization of why this confrontation is occurring sinks in. I groan and cover my nose in frustration at my own idiocy.
"Oh my god I forgot!"
"We know that," Dad says coolly.
"Saff, I'm so sorry." I look to her and grimace at her cold stare.
"I had to walk four miles home," she informs me. "By the time I realized you weren't coming, all the school buses were gone, and the public bus drivers are on strike today."
Shit, shit, shit.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise. We can hang out whenever you want. If I'm doing something, I'll cancel, just … sorry." I finish lamely.
"You will cancel whatever you are doing for the next week, because you're grounded," Dad says.
"What? I forgot one time!" I say incredulously.
"And maybe you won't be so quick to forget again."
My fingernails dig into my palm, my hands ball into fists and I stalk past him and Saffron without a backward glance and storm up to my room, throwing my bag down on the floor. It's only then I get a proper look at my messenger bag which appears to be a completely different color to usual.
Kurt's bag I realize. And I'm grounded so I can't go give it to him anyway. Well, unless I sneak out for a minute. I mull the idea over in my head and peak out the window to see if he is in his room yet. The lights are out. Damn. I open my window and look down. My bedroom overlooks the side alley but directly below my window is a narrow wooden shed of debatable sturdiness. It takes forty three seconds for me to determine whether I could lower myself onto the shed without breaking through the roof, and I push it open wider and sit on the ledge, my feet dangling over the side in the cool Autumnal breeze. Or is it winter now? I drop his bag down onto the footpath and take a deep breath, count to three, count to three again, count to five, then give up on a countdown and push myself away from my window and land with bent knees onto the roof of the shed. My legs slip. I suck in a desperate breath and grip the roof with my nails. The friction does little to stop me and I land in a flailing heap on the concrete path beside me.
"Ow." With a groan I lift myself to my feet and shake my legs out a little to test them out. Nothing feels broken. Sprained and bruised? Hell yes. I crouch down and crawl past the dining room window, check no one is looking and hop over the Hummel's side fence.
I hope Kurt won't notice my slight disheveled appearance but when he opens the door his eyes widen and that damn eyebrow raises a little, questioning. "You've got foliage in your hair," he says. "And your clothes."
"I'm grounded," I mumble as he picks leaves and a random twig out of my hair and dusts me off. "I accidentally took your bag instead of mine." I hold it out to him. Kurt glances towards the living room where I can hear a football game. I'm beckoned inside and he pulls me to the left and hides me behind his height as we walk toward the stairs.
"Who was that, Kurt?" Burt's voice calls from the living room.
"Blaine," Kurt replies. "He gave me a ride home and I left my bag in his car. I'm going to do my homework."
"Sure thing, Buddy."
Kurt nods toward the stairs and I climb up ahead of him before he leads me into his room. I've never been in here, I realize as I walk in and he switches on the light and I only catch a glimpse of his double bed, his vanity, desk and shelves upon shelves of CD's and DVD's and a stack of Vogue on his hamper before I turn to him in panic.
"Oh wait can you keep the light off," I whisper as he closes the door. "I don't want anyone to look in from my house and see me."
"I could just close the curtains," Kurt points out but switches the light off regardless. The only light is now from my bedroom which I realize now I forgot to turn off before I jumped out of the window. "Why are you grounded," he asks softly.
"I forgot about picking Saffron up and she had to walk home."
"Oh," Kurt peers at me through the darkness and gestures for me to sit wherever I want. "I guess you can't hang out with your girlfriend for the next week then." I can't quite discern his tone.
"She's not the person I want to hang out with," I admit. "And for the one hundredth time, she is not my girlfriend."
"Blaine, have you ever noticed how you only say that when she's not around?" Kurt sits by the window seat and looks up at me.
"Would you want to have that conversation with Santana?" I ask seriously.
Kurt smiles sadly at me. "I know she's scary but … you are leading her on. I know she acts like you're just her toy to fool around with but she'll get pissed at you if you let this drag on much longer. And I noticed how possessive she got when Wes thought you and I a-" he breaks off, and if it wasn't dark, I'm pretty sure I'd see the blush I'm so fond of coloring his porcelain cheeks.
I settle down on his desk chair. "I know. Can I ask you something?"
Kurt cocks his head to the side and nods. I smile at how the light from my room behind him makes his figure seem ethereal.
"Why are you so bothered about Santana? You've been snappish about her near enough all day."
Kurt lowers his eyes to his lap and takes a deep breath. "I guess I just get the impression you … like the fact everyone thinks she's your girlfriend," he mumbles.
I turn his chair and rest my chin on the back in thought. "It makes my life a little easier, I suppose, but I wouldn't say I like it. But why does that bother you?"
Kurt shrugs.
I peer at him over the top of the chair; allow my eyes to trace his hands as they fidget with the scarf he unravels from his neck and places on the window seat beside him neatly. I will him to look up at me. As though he senses this, his eyes find mine. My breath catches in my throat and I drag my hand through my hair a little in frustration at how guarded they are. "I think you do."
And like that the shield lifts, whether on purpose or by accident I couldn't tell you, but it's long enough for me to see confusion and more than a little frustration directed at me. My breath is shallow as I fight the urge to stare at his lips. He bites his bottom lip and my mind is torn between cursing and praising him for doing so. He closes his eyes, shutting off my window into his thoughts.
"Please don't look at me like that."
I stiffen at the tone of voice, so brittle, like it might disappear any moment. "Like what?"
"I – no one's ever looked at me like that," he whispers.
"Like what?" I press and stand from his chair to make my slow way over to him at his window.
"Like I'm-" He stares up at me wide eyed. "Blaine I ... It can't be a secret to you how I feel. I'm not good at hiding it when I feel things sometimes so please, please don't look at me like that, because I don't think I could handle it if it isn't what I think it is," he admits and casts his eyes down towards the floor. "I've had that happen before."
I reach him now and sink down on the window seat. My hearts an insistent knocking against my ribcage and I have no idea what has possessed me, but now I'm here I can't seem to stop.
"What do you think it is?" I ask, and lift his chin with my forefinger until his face is level with mine. I gulp in an attempt to moisten my dry throat.
"I – I think you want to kiss me," he says with an unsteady voice. "But you're 'straight' and if we were to ... to do this I – I don't know if I could – and you probably don't so I'm making a huge fool of myself and – oh god I shouldn't have – forget I said anything."
I've never heard such a complete lack of coherent speech from him.
"I want to," I say and marvel at the soft O his mouth makes when he gasps at my words. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone so much in my life."
"What about you're Dad?"
"He wants me to pretend," I say softly, "he didn't say stop being gay."
Kurt's eyes don't waver from mine, although the intrigue is evident.
The finger under his chin has moved and my hand now palms his cheek. "You, you're so ... if it looks like I want to kiss you, it's because I do."
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he's willing himself not to believe it.
"And I can't switch it off."
He opens his eyes and I suppress the panic in seeing them filled with tears. For a moment I think I've said the wrong thing. I think of Karofksy and how he stole a kiss from him and I realize I might be walking on forbidden territory without permission. Until the most beautiful smile I have ever seen breaks out over his flawless face, and it's all I can see. Sat in his dark bedroom, silhouetted by the light from my own bedroom window, I lean forwards without any thought to consequence and do what I've wanted to do ever since I first heard him sing from my bedroom window that first day.
I press my lips against his in a gentle and experimental kiss and something roars to life in my stomach; a dragon that breathes fires through my veins and envelopes me in a warm cocoon of giddy emotion. He gasps against my lips and I release his slowly, only for him to lean forward and claim them again firmly. I marvel at the softness as they move against my chapped ones with fervor.
His hands grab clumsily at the scruff of my shirt and I'm pulled into him. I groan when one hand wraps around my neck and the other pushes at my back until we're chest to chest, flush together in an awkward sitting position. I nibble at his bottom lip with a gentle graze of my teeth and he whimpers in the back of his throat and opens his mouth. My tongue worms its way through and I whimper when it comes into contact with his tongue. It's nothing like when Santana kissed me. It's too much and not enough at the same time and my left hand trails down his side to fasten around his firm waist.
Blissful oblivion, some author of some book I can't remember described this moment as. His hand travels into the thick curls at the back of my head and the sensation of his nimble fingers scratching against my head sends shocks of pleasure down my spine. I shiver and he squeezes me tighter.
I'm not sure who pulls away first. All I know is the need for air becomes too insistent and then our lips are no longer together, and we pant into each other's mouths both overwhelmed by what just happened but unwilling to move from each other. I wrap my other arm around his waist too and pin him there.
He doesn't fight it and rests his forehead against mine, eyes open and staring into mine.
"You are going to be the death of me," he says and presses a chaste kiss to my nose.
"God, I hope not," I answer.
He giggles and I move my head down to his designer clad shoulder. "This is actually happening," he wonders aloud.
I loop my fingers with his "If you want it to?" I'm embarrassed by how needy that hesitant half question was.
He pulls me back for a kiss that feels like forever but was actually a few seconds and I blink through the dazed sheen over my eyes.
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a hell yes."
I rest my head back down on his shoulder. "I have no idea what I'm doing," I admit.
"Me neither." His fingers resume their mission to tame my curls and I nuzzle into the crook of his neck with a sigh of contentment. "By the way, I've changed my mind," he says.
"About what?" I ask.
"I think the hobbit hair is adorable. Maybe trim it up a little bit but if I'm deprived of doing this to it..."
I snort and lift my head to look at his amused face. "Can I have that in writing?" I bravely lift my hand to his hair and ignore the glare when I run my hand through the silkiness, breaking apart the hold of hairspray.
"Blaine," he warns.
I pay no heed as my hand trails to the hair at the back of his head and massage my fingers into it, I play with it gently, my concentration on his face. It's a smug moment when his eyelids droop and the scowl is replaced by one of surprised contentment, like a cat that's never experienced love from its owner before and is caught off guard by how good it feels.
"On second thought, do what you want. That feels good," he breathes out and leans forward to kiss me again. I meet him halfway and for the next few minutes I lose myself in the sensation. Kissing Kurt doesn't compare to any experience I have ever had. It's like my entire life has been in black and white up until this moment, and it took a kiss to bring my world back into color.
Oh god I watch way too many Disney movies!
He breaks away from my lips and I'm caught off guard when his mouth forges a trail across my cheek to my ear and travels down the column of my throat. I shiver in anticipation and my breath hitches when he turns his attention to the other side of my throat and sucks on my pulse point.
"Kurt?" I'm almost embarrassed by how feeble my voice is.
"Shh." He tilts my head back for better access and breathes into my left ear. I wine at the unexpected jolt of arousal and pull his face back to mine.
"Slow down," I whisper and press a chaste kiss to his lips.
He blushes pink in the gloom of his room and it takes all my self-restraint not to attack them with my mouth. "Sorry, I just. I've wanted to do that for weeks."
"Yeah?"
He nods and I kiss his forehead and glance towards the window.
"Maybe we should move this away from the window," I say. "If Saffron barges into my room and sees us she might tell my Dad, and I'm not sure he'd like this."
His affectionate smile disappears as quickly as running water down a drain, replaced by a troubled frown.
"What's wrong?" I stroke my thumb over his cheek, and try to catch his eye.
He bites his lip and looks up at me like he's choosing his words carefully. "I'm not sure I can do this."
I freeze and my eyebrows shoot up past the curls covering my forehead. I take my hand away from his cheek like he's burned me and try to understand what he's just said. "Do what?"
"Us," he says.
I edge away from him in confusion. My heart thumps for a not so pleasant reason now and I grip the edge of the window seat. "I – I don't understand," I admit.
"Blaine your straight."
"No I'm not," I reply. "You know I'm not."
"Yes, but everyone thinks you are," he says.
I lick my top lip and try to see what it is he's seeing, but my mind draws a blank. "But I'm not, so it's not like I'm a straight guy who is having an identity crisis. I know what I am. What are you-" I splutter.
"Blaine, you're not getting this," Kurt holds his fist lightly to his brow, eyes squeezed shut. "I know you're gay; my point is that everyone thinks you are straight." He looks at me meaningfully.
I shake my head at him in bewilderment and nod for him to elaborate.
He rolls his eyes. "Oh my God think, Blaine! How can we be together if no one knows who you really are?"
"Wait, are you – are you saying you don't want to be with me because everyone thinks I'm straight?"
He takes a shuddering breath and nods. "I don't think I can be with someone who won't admit he's with me in public."
"What? You know I can't come out to these guys, my dad will kill me!" I exclaim.
"No, you won't come out," Kurt snaps. "You think I don't know what it's like to be in the closet? I know I scream gay physically, but I wasn't always so forthcoming about my sexuality. I know how hard it can be, but I also know there is no can't about it. There's only won't. I wouldn't come out until last year because I thought it would be easier, because I wasn't sure how my dad would react, or my friends. And then I realized I could do it if I was brave enough and the only person stopping me was me and screw everyone else and their opinions. So I stopped denying it."
"Kurt."
"You're using your Dad as an excuse to stay in the closet the same way I did, because you're scared, and it's a convenient excuse for you to not get hurt."
"No I'm not," I say hotly. "I can't do it to my family. What Peter Lance did to me – you don't know the half of it, you don't know what it did to me and my family. You don't know the full story, you have no idea what happened!"
"Then tell me!"
"I can't!"
He shakes his head at me, eyes blazing. "Won't."
I leap to my feet and stomp to the middle of the room, fists clenched at my sides and keep my back to him as I say, "You said that it was okay, I wasn't out." My voice trembles. "You said you wouldn't out me and it was okay."
"It is okay."
"Then why are you doing this?" I turn back to him to find he's stood too though he hasn't moved away from the window.
"Because, call me selfish, but I think I deserve a little better than a guy who won't admit he's with me in public," he says quietly.
It's like he slapped me in the face.
"And I think you deserve to not have to hide who you are. I know you defend your Dad, but I honestly think he's an idiot for thinking you could actually hide who you are. You're the worst actor in the world, Blaine. You wear your heart on your sleeve. I knew you were gay from the moment I met you. And you just kept confirming my suspicions with your behavior. Mercedes, Tina, even Brittney wondered after a week or so. The only reason others think you are straight now is because I told them you are. They trust my judgment because gay kids recognize other gay kids."
He raises his arms up in a shrug. "Why can't we walk down the hall holding hands? Why can't we show affection towards each other in public? Why can't we go to homecoming or prom or go on dates to Breadsticks just like every straight person?" He lowers himself back onto his window seat.
"Because we're in Ohio," I say bitterly.
"I like you Blaine. I – I like you so much it scares the crap out of me. You – you're so – amazing and sweet and funny and I think I'm f- I-"
He doesn't finish his sentence and puts his head in his hands.
"Kurt, please don't do this," I say. All anger has evaporated and has left a hollow emptiness in its wake. If you'd told me beforehand that I'd go from giddy and happy to cold and upset in the space of a few minutes, I would have found a universal remote control and paused the moment of happiness for just that little while longer. Give myself time to prepare myself for the desperate ache in my chest.
He shakes his head at me. "I don't want to hide Blaine. I don't want a boyfriend knowing I can't yell it to the world. It's not fair. I'll keep your secret for as long as you need me to. I will never out you. You're still my best friend. But no matter how much I feel for you, I won't be with you knowing you won't show it to the world. We deserve more than that."
"Ca-" I begin
"-won't."
His face has closed, and I know it's pointless to argue. I close my eyes in defeat and mumble a quick, "Fine," before I grab my bag from his floor and stumble out of his room, down the Hummel stairs and blindly find my way back to my house through the angry tears that I refuse to shed. I don't even care that I wasn't supposed to be out when I barge through my front door and close my bedroom door with a snap locking it.
His window is still dark when I catch a glimpse and I don't think he's by it. Still I'm not taking any chances. I flip the light switch and the room is plunged into darkness. Then for good measure I close my window and my curtains before I allow myself to collapse near my bed and sob into my knees.
I don't understand what just happened. I feel like the stop lights have been on amber the entire time I've known him, unsure if I can go or not, and I finally get the green light, only for it to be snatched away from me before I had a chance to enjoy it. Now I'm stuck in the red zone with no way of maneuvering away without doing what I'm not allowed to do. How is that fair?
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I fish it out with a shaky hand.
Please don't hate me. You're still my best friend – K
I throw the phone on the carpet and watch it bounce slightly. The back doesn't come off for once. Don't hate you?
A/N PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! I think Kurt needed to say that and I think its something Blaine needed to hear. And I promise I won't keep them apart too long. I love them too much to let them suffer.
In relation to the Warblers proposal, I know in the real world the likelihood of another school offering a grant to another one at the drop of a hat is unlikey but we are in the Glee universe and I think all audience members are trained in the art of disbelief when it comes to the happenings at McKinley etc.
I'm curious about your thoughts on what the Warblers are up to. Kurt and Santana suspect there is more to their proposition...
*runs away to hide*