Post by Thursday, post by Saturday... it's like the same thing. I wanted to avoid posting on April Fool's Day, so today it is! :D Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed. Seriously, I respond to all the reviews in pretty much one sitting and it took me about two hours. Wow. That's so great. Thank you all so much.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, My Fair Lady, The Beatles, Baby It's Cold Outside, or anything else you may recognize.
And a big thank you to my beta, lextempus!
The clock on the bottom right corner of his computer clicks to midnight and it marks the third consecutive day that Rachel has not visited him in his dorm.
His roommate notices the small smirk on his face, something Axel has taken upon himself to call the Kurt-Smirk, and gives him a curious look.
"Rachel," Kurt answers simply with a not-so-subtle touch of smugness in his voice.
Axel rolls over on his bed so that he's lying on his stomach and laughs while raking a hand through his dyed black hair. The single word speaks volumes, especially since Axel has only known Rachel for a few weeks in the new semester.
"She's still not happy about the paper you wrote on her being a Type A personality?"
"Trust me, there are harsher things I could have called her."
Kurt loves Rachel, he really does, but this is the longest Kurt's gone in a long time without having to hear about how incarnation is real and Rachel might be Helena Modjeska reborn.
Why can't a woman be more like a man?
Men are so honest, so thoroughly square,
Eternally honest, historic'ly fair.
Who, when you win, will give your back a pat?
Well, why can a woman be like that?
He auditions on a whim, urged to the stage largely on Rachel's and Regan's encouragement. Barely prepared, Kurt keeps the movement to a minimum as My Fair Lady has few large dance scenes, and his tongue-in-cheek humor wins him a few laughs from the directors.
By and by, it's easily one of the best auditions he's ever had.
(&)
Henry Higgins … Kurt Hummel
This time, his name is easy to find on the cast list. Maybe there is something to be said about not trying so hard.
Autumn sun trickles through the leaves above them and the dappled sunlight speckles their skin with sunshine and shadow. The chill in the air bristles against the tip of Kurt's nose and along the angle of his cheekbones, but his hand in Regan's radiates warmth.
I need to laugh, and when the sun is out, I've got something I can laugh about. I feel good in a special way. I'm in love and it's a sunny day.
The sweet pluck of the guitar strings carries the music to Kurt who can hear the familiar lyrics before he can even see the guitarist. They turn around the bend, hands linked and shoulders brushing with smiles wide on their faces. The guitarist comes into view, sitting on a bench with a gentle smile of his own.
"This is my favorite place in Central Park," Regan shares, his voice low and reserved as though he's sharing a secret. His eyes meet Kurt's shyly and Kurt gives a breathy laugh before pecking Regan's hair fondly, the scent of Axe sharp in his nose.
Regan tugs at his hand and within moments, Kurt finds himself standing in the center of the Imagine mosaic. He glances down to see his silver boots toeing against Regan's tangerine Dr. Martens, careful not to disturb the daisy petals someone had left behind.
When he looks up again, Regan's watching him through blonde eyelashes and the music seems to fade into a far away background. Regan's nose is equally chilled as it nudges against Kurt's before his lips, directly across from his own, meet Kurt in a kiss.
Kurt fists his hands in the plaid fabric of Regan's jacket and can taste the salt on Regan's lips from the pretzel he bought from the vendor on the corner. Regan's fingers trace the line of his jaw and brush his earlobes gently before they pull away with softened expressions.
The music continues around them, no hesitation in view of their affection. Kurt thinks this might be his favorite place in Central Park, too.
It's not exactly paying homage to Rex Harrison the way Kurt croons I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face, but the music enlivens him until his voice soars and drops with inflection and intention.
Offstage, he imagines he can see Rachel Doolittle beaming and stifling her giggles at the ironic connotation the music holds, and Kurt can barely stave off his own grin. Above the audience's gentle murmur of amusement, he thinks he can hear Regan's laughter light and clear and full of that same ironic understanding.
Not for the first time, Kurt believes he shines best when he sings.
I really can't stay.
But, baby, it's cold outside.
This year when Kurt hears the song on the radio, he just smiles in fond reminiscence before joining his family once more in their exuberant conversation.
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