Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic.
I'm afraid that any explanation I can give you will just sound like excuses-so I wholly apologize for the fact that I've just updated this fic now. I had been back in the country since yesterday. I would like to thank everyone for their support and well wishes. Singapore was absolutely beautiful and I enjoyed every moment. With your well wishes and support, I'm pleased to report that I won first place in my competition there. I am grateful for everything and every moment. I am also grateful to you all.
The cheering in this episode is derived from my own experience of six years in cheerleading. I apologize if it is not as well-portrayed-I usually only visualize the routine and cannot entirely put it all down into words.
This new chapter leaves me with the hope that you will enjoy it, and I look forward to updating as usual. I apologize once again for the lateness, and sincerely hope that you all enjoy this episode.
(I do not own Glee. ps. Let us send our congratulations to Chris Colfer for his Golden Globe nomination.)
Dalton
Episode 12: Cheer
I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy.
Karofsky came after me. I'd like to think came out on the better end of it.
And then I heard Blaine and Logan talking, and I realized that I didn't really know them as well as I ought to.
Tonight is the night of the Winter Fest. But it looks like I have something else to look into before that.
Morning had always been cold, but the way Kurt was buried was under that lavishly thick comforter made Reed wonder if it was only the cold he was hiding from and not the sunlight of the morning altogether. The smaller boy grinned and leapt on the lump under the covers with a great thump. Kurt grunted in shock and pain.
"Up and at em!" Reed said cheerfully, sitting on what presumably were Kurt's ribs. "Come on, you can't stay cooped up there. Today's the last day! Then school's out!"
He only received a grunt without conviction from under the covers. Undeterred, Reed flopped over on top of the covered lump, forcing his weight down. "I was thinking, Kurt. What do you think about me moving in here as your roomie?"
A pause. "…I would say babysitting you, oh hazard-prone one, requires some serious compensation other than your less than welcome early-morning personality…"
"I hereby postulate providing you with complete unbridled access to eighty percent of my wardrobe upon the day of my move."
Another pause. "…I could be persuaded."
"Deal!" Reed grinned and leapt off him. He shook Kurt's shoulders. "Get up! Come on, you've been cooped up in here since yesterday afternoon. You've got to come out before you grow roots. Let's do a last practice—tonight's the big Winter Fest! We're singing lead! This calls for great outfits!"
Kurt just groaned. "…not really in the mood, Reed."
"You haven't been in the mood to hang out after class, you haven't been in the mood to hang out and join the dorm in our first night out together since the arrest lifted, and you're not in the mood to get out today either?" Reed stared at him, perplexed. "What's wrong, are you sick?"
At the risk of being even more dramatic, yes, I'm sick. Heartsick. I feel like some of Rachel's crazy had rubbed off me. Kurt sighed. "Not exactly…"
Reed considered. He carefully pulled away the covers from Kurt's head and received no struggle. He blinked down at his friend, who was staring into empty space with contemplative blue eyes. Reed sighed. "Is this about Blaine and Logan?"
Kurt quickly looked up. "What?"
"About the other night, after that visit from that McKinley jock. You're upset they're fighting."
If that were all… Kurt just sighed. He had to wonder, though, if Reed knew the whole story behind Blaine and Logan. He wasn't sure how long Reed had been in Windsor, but all the most likely candidates to be aware of the scandals (Wes, David, and the Twins), were all nixed from his list of inquiries. They would paint the situation with bias and he wasn't altogether sure if they would really tell him anything.
That fight that Blaine and Logan had in the hall was less of a fight and more of an ultimatum for one another. Logan continued to push the boundary and it seemed as though he had pushed Blaine to the edge of his patience and control in more than one way.
And the realization that Logan and Blaine had been in a relationship was jarring, which at the same time begs the question: How many Windsor boys had Logan gone after? The man certainly got around.
"You okay?" Reed asked after Kurt's moment of silence.
"About Logan…"
Reed raised his eyebrows. "What about him?"
"…what was he like before he was like this now?"
Reed wasn't quite sure how to answer the question. But he said down and said, "Well…the thing is… Logan's always been that way. Actually…he's actually dialed down a few notches since last year."
"This is Logan dialed down?"
Reed fidgeted. "I don't want to talk badly about anyone… but Logan was unpopular for many reasons—with many of them founded."
"What about Blaine?"
Reed stared now. "Blaine…? You mean, what he was like last year?" He tilted his head. "Why are you curious?"
"I just…wanted to know more about him… Without having to ask him. I figured you might know something."
"As far as "somethings" go, Wes and David know more than I do. I met Blaine couple of months after he transferred. That was when he had moved to Windsor. We hadn't talked so much at first. He kept to himself, and Wes and David kept bugging him until they became friends."
Another pause. Kurt hesitated for a long moment.
"…did Blaine and Logan always fight like this?"
Reed froze. His hands gripped the sheets. "…no. They…we were all Warblers and…they seemed to get along okay in the Hall. Kind of friendly… Outside, it was just the usual staying with their respective houses. I don't know very much."
"Mm…" Kurt nodded. He finally got up and sighed. "Last day. I'll go get showered—I feel like emptying a bottle of Clinique and scrubbing off all of Murdoch's contempt from my skin. " He gave Reed a small smile and walked to his bathroom.
Reed smiled back and watched him go, but as soon as the door shut, a tense expression came over his face. He didn't want to lie to him, but the Windsors always protected their own—and they weren't ever to talk about this anymore, more for Blaine's sake than anything. But he had no doubt:
He knows. There's just no other reason for all the questions. Kurt knows.
"Soccer game?"
"It's called football for the rest of the world," Wes bristled as he stabbed at his lasagna. It was lunch period and the cafeteria was starting to fill. The windows were full of lances of sunlight pouring into the room as a multitude of boys discussed trips during vacation and the last of the activities for the day. "But yes, there's one today. The last one for the year. We're getting out early for it. Maybe they're sending out everyone early to spare us all the shame of having to watch our team lose."
Kurt was confused. "But I thought your team was great."
"It is," said David with a sigh. "But we're fighting St. Patrick's Lions. And every year, even if the Dalton Kings guns down the rest of the tournament, St. Patrick ruins the parade."
"They're that good?"
"That and it's depressing to fight them," said Wes with a dramatic fling of the arm. "Their cheer block is killing us!"
"It didn't seem that way during the fencing meet," Kurt frowned as he put down his salad fork. Without looking, he swatted away Evan's fork—the twin was once again trying to shovel cheese into his salad in an attempt to have Kurt "gain some more weight" after all the school toll. Kurt maintained that he can handle himself. As soon as Kurt was distracted with Evan, Ethan dumped cheese into the salad from the other side.
David, used to the odd things happening on the lunch table, ignored the look of murder that Kurt was bestowing on an innocent-looking Ethan, and said, "Well they don't allow cheerleaders into their fencing meets."
Kurt gave him a narrow-eyed "I-don't-follow" expression. Wes, mouth full of pasta, said, "St. Patrick's got girls on their side since they're co-ed." He rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Anyway, they've got cheerleaders on their end and they drive the whole crowd nuts. Their whole school comes out to watch their girls shake it—and they like driving our school crazy because, well…we don't get any of that! There isn't much we can actually do, being an all boy's school."
"Warblers once sang during the half time," Reed said, blinking, mouth full of fettuccine.
Even Kurt joined the others in rolling their eyes at that one. The Warblers were rockstars all right, and there was no doubt that the Dalton boys thought very highly of them. But in the middle of an impassioned football match, with a crowd of hotties shaking booties at the other end, a campus full of hormone-driven male adolescents would be more compelled to appreciate other worldly sights.
"It's not just the Banshees, then," Dwight grumbled as he pushed around his baked beans on his plate. "The girls are pretty roasting hot, yeah, but the thing is, the team just needs all the morale it can get! Not only did Blaine quit already, but Charlie—he's the real prefect, you haven't met him yet—he's the team captain and he's out! He's in the hospital recuperating."
"What happened to him?"
"Unfortunate paintball incident," supplied Evan with a sweet smile.
"We had no idea that the cannon was going to be that strong," Ethan added.
"Bad luck, really—what with the stairs—"
"—and that squeaky mallet—"
"—nasty mess on the landing, you know…"
Kurt impatiently waved it away and said, "So what you're telling me is that all of Dalton is positive that they're going to lose the football match—"
"—for the fourth year—"
"—because you don't have cheerleaders?"
"And star players," Wes pointed out. "As of right now, I'm the best the team's got."
David stared at him. "What? I just defended us to the death back then!"
"But they still scored that one in that had them win 1-0!"
"Well if you'd listened to coach instead of looking at girls—"
Kurt turned away from all this good-natured squabbling to see Blaine approaching them with his lunch tray. As was usual, Evan rose from his place to change seats—he would sit next to Ethan—so Blaine could sit next to Kurt. But the moment he made to rise, he felt Kurt grab his wrist to hold him down in place. Evan stared at him, and Ethan looked, seeing what happened.
Kurt said nothing, holding Evan down to exactly where he was sitting, eating with his other hand as though nothing was happening. Blaine arrived with a smile, not seeming to notice the fact that his usual seat next to Kurt was occupied by one puzzled twin.
"You're not arguing about the match again, are you?" Blaine frowned at the two. "So what if St. Patrick has those Banshees? Just don't pay attention to them."
"It's easy for you to say that as you're not inclined," Wes grimaced at him. "Now if it had been Kurt out there—"
An epidemic of choking went over the table as the boys all but spat out their food all over the table. As they proceeded to throw wadded up paper napkins at Wes, the person in question—Kurt himself—did not have that reaction. In fact he looked rather contemplative.
Hmm…it's not as though I can't… Not alone, anyway…
"You all right, Kurt?" Blaine asked.
This roused him. Kurt turned crimson and said, "Yeah. Fine." He flashed him a bright smile and resumed stabbing his lettuce leaves.
The twins glanced at each other, a little concerned. Ethan didn't need Evan to say anything—he knew that Kurt's hand was still on his twin's wrist. Reed, who watched, shifted a little uncomfortably. Dwight, who could sense dread atmosphere acutely, at least, now bristled. "Now what? We're going to lose the game for the fourth year in a row? I told you guys, just let me curse them or something. I got this book that—"
"You can curse them all you want at the stands—it's not going to make them stop doing whatever it is they're doing," David rolled his eyes. "Blaine's right. Let's just focus on the game. If we win, we win, if we lose—"
"It would be normal?" the twins raised their eyebrows.
"Upside, we get to watch the Banshees," Wes grinned.
"Wes' girlfriend is in St. Patrick," Reed whispered to Kurt. "She's a Banshee. Remember Tabitha?"
"It would take amnesia to make me forget about Tabitha," Kurt snorted. "And wasn't she his ex?"
"He's angling to take her out again," Evan sighed.
"It's a cycle," Ethan agreed.
"I have a thing for cheerleaders," Wes admitted.
While this was happening, it is well worth noting that each one of the boys had a hand under the table holding a cell phone. As the presumably ordinary inanity continued, a flurry of frantic text-chat was going on between the conspirators of Windsor.
MHare: What the hell, Evan, stop being a douche, move seats already.
Tweedles: Alice made him stay sitting down.
MHatter: Why?
Tweedles: Don't know. Doesn't want to sit with the Rabbit?
MHare: Wait, WHAT? Is there a problem here?
Dormouse: Guys, stop being so obvious or the two will notice.
WKnight: They fight or something?
Dormouse: I think Kurt knows about Logan and Blaine from last year's.
Tweedles: Oh…
MHare: Crap.
MHatter: Crap.
WKnight: Awkward…
Tweedles: Emergency maneuvers?
MHare: Stat.
There was a terse pause.
WRabbit: I think you guys forgot to take me off the list.
Everyone on the table looked up as though deer caught in headlights. Blaine was frowning at them. "Whoah!" Evan leapt off his seat before Kurt could stop him—he landed right next to his twin, and both proceeded to scoot as far away as possible from Blaine.
In the finest show of feigned composure yet, Blaine slid to the seat next to Kurt and the two proceeded to eat their lunches with barely obvious tension. "Are you going to watch the game?" Blaine asked.
Kurt nodded, considering. "I was thinking of it… You guys sound like you need all the help you can get."
"The team isn't really that bad at it. They wouldn't have gotten this far in spite of Wes and David trying to imitate Shaolin Soccer half the time—"
"Hey!" the two chorused.
"—but their hormones just rage when the Banshees start getting it on."
"Hmm…" Kurt contemplated for a moment, and seemed to make a decision. He stood up. "You guys go on. Reed, come with me. We'll both see you guys later at the game."
"What—me?" Reed looked startled, but got up. "We're not going to afternoon class? Why?"
"We have to practice for tonight," Kurt just gave him a look that told him to go along with it, and towed him away immediately out into the halls.
The rest of the boys stared after them, puzzled, and then Blaine spoke up. "What do you mean he knows about me and Logan?"
"I don't know, it was Reed who said it," said Wes, staring at him.
David frowned. "Reed's not the gossiping type, so I'll assume you and Logan may have dropped a rather large hint on Kurt at some point."
"Like I would tell him about my phase of insanity." Blaine grumbled. He didn't want his food anymore and pushed it around his plate. "No matter what I do to put it away, it's catching up to me."
"Maybe Logan's kind of like an STD that really doesn't go away even after you're supposedly "cured"…" Dwight said, earning himself the most awkward statement of the table yet.
After bestowing a withering glance at the spiritualist, Wes looked at Blaine. "Did you two do or say anything?"
Blaine considered—he had only seen Logan yesterday in the hall where they had that stand-off. He glanced to the others. "Logan and I had another confrontation in the hall… Kurt had left to talk on the phone, but maybe he overheard us."
"What were you talking about?"
"…that thing that happened between us, back when we were together, when he dropped me and how he ruined—"
He had not the chance continue as all the boys groaned and threw their napkins and forks onto the table. The twins looked exasperated. "What is the matter with you, Blaine…?" Evan sighed. "Have we taught you nothing? If you must discuss highly suspect topics of controversy, it has to be done at least a whole zip code away from your issue."
"That's what we did when we talked about pouring itching powder into Logan's jockstrap."
"Unsuccessful, but it was a good try in the end."
"Kurt definitely must've overheard," said David, frowning. "Did you say anything else?"
Blaine hesitated. Wes and David waited expectantly. Finally, the prefect sighed. "…I told Logan that I won't let him take Kurt from me."
Dwight dropped his fork, staring.
"Oooh, inadvertent confession, I see," Evan was grinning broadly now.
"Would've been better in a setting that didn't involve a rival…" Ethan considered.
"Wait—so he's now avoiding me because I pretty much just said that I liked him?" Blaine really didn't want to eat his lunch now and he threw his fork down. He put his head into his hand, trying to wonder what the first thing to do even was. Before he knew it, the twins had plopped onto either side of him and draped their arms heavily over his shoulders.
"There, there, oh panicked Rabbit."
"You're not quite that late."
"Cheer up! Maybe he just doesn't know how to act around you."
"While you say that, clearly it only means he doesn't feel the same way," Blaine grumbled without looking up.
"That's just not true," said Evan sensibly, making them all look at him. "Kurt obviously likes you. He keeps rejecting Logan. You should've seen the smackdown during Sectionals."
"Still not making me feel better." Blaine stopped. "What smackdown during Sectionals?"
The twins exchanged conspiratorial grins. "The Knave may have said some expressive statements questioning new one's morals. Alice slapped him. Beautifully." Grins were exchanged around the table. "Consequently, we're to assume Alice likes him far less than he likes you. The first rejection is always so priceless."
Blaine frowned and sat up. "I think I've got to go talk to Kurt while I still have the chance."
The twins hauled him back down. "Sit. You have time. Logan won't make a move until he manages to get Alice alone. While Alice is with the Dormouse, he'll keep away. For now, we need a battle plan."
"Which is?"
"Tonight is Winter Fest. You're presenting for Windsor along with others…and Logan presents for Stuart like he always does. It's time to steamroller us some Stuarts and have you completely win over Alice."
"This is in front of his parents," Blaine blanched, remembering Kurt saying that Burt and Carole were coming to watch. "And my parent."
"Fortune favors the bold," David smirked.
"Why are you avoiding Blaine?" asked Reed as he followed Kurt into the courtyard. Compared to the McKinley yard, this courtyard was roughly the size of a ballroom with tiling that seemed as though they were imported from Europe. Right now, everything was cold outside, with Reed rubbing his hands on his arms to keep warm.
"I'm not avoiding Blaine," Kurt answered tersely as he pulled out his phone and began dialing.
"But you didn't sit next to him," said Reed, blinking. "You made one of the twins stay."
"I'm not avoiding Blaine, Reed," Kurt sighed, putting the phone to his ear. "I couldn't if I tried and I don't want to. I just have this idea that I should do before Windsor madness wears off and I realize what the hell I'm doing—hello, Quinn?"
"Kurt? What's going on?" she asked, sounding quite surprised.
Reed flailed, "But you've been acting funny since—"
"Reed!" Kurt snapped. "Stop flopping like a fish on the bottom of a boat. I'm not avoiding Blaine. I can't avoid someone I'm in love with. Now be quiet!"
Quite effective. Reed stood staring at him, mouth hanging open in what might have been absolute shock and delight. His friend's knack for bluntness continued to stun him.
Quinn was less receptive. "I'm sorry, what is going on? Am I in some kind of Dalton talk show?" There was disturbance in the other end and Santana came on. "In love with whom—and details are necessary. Have you had him?"
"Santana!" Kurt scolded. He let the fact that she put him on speakerphone pass for the sake of necessity. "Where are you guys right now?"
"Club room…Christmas tree…Lauren eating popcorn that's supposed to go on the tree."
"I need a favor that you all can use as a Christmas gift for me."
"What does you all mean?" Santana sounded suspicious.
"It means Christmas…" Brittany piped up from somewhere. "Artie said Yule means Christmas."
"No, Brittany—she meant—" Artie began.
Kurt shook his head and sighed. "Just the Cheerios. Do you girls know the Banshees?"
"From St. Patrick?" he could almost see Quinn raising an eyebrow.
"Head cheerleader is Margot. Her boyfriend's in the Marines and she drills the Banshees the same way. She's missing a toe on her left foot and has a fake one," Santana added, proving that Sue Sylvester's network of intelligence was bordering on obscene. "Returning to the previous question, in love with whom?"
"Kurt, I not sure I like what I'm hearing very much—" Finn started to say awkwardly.
"I need the Cheerios to come here for some serious retribution," Kurt declared. "Turns out that the Banshees are giving the Dalton boys a hard time by seducing them from across the field. We've got a game tonight—and I was hoping I could get a little backup."
Quinn responded, "A little backup? So you plan on getting in the uniform again?"
Reed gave him a confused look. Kurt smirked at the phone. "Just get over here and get ready. Bring any Cheerios you can spare. Me and one more person will join you." He grinned at Reed.
The smaller boy blinked. Kurt gave him a raised eyebrow in answer. Reed wasn't sure what was going on, but he had the feeling that he was about to get dragged into it. He glanced around uncomfortably, and thought he saw someone vanish around the corner of the building.
Someone with a red shield on his lapel.
"Logan."
The prefect sitting on the tree branch having his own quiet lunch looked down to see Derek frowning from below, arms akimbo. "Can I help you?"
"You should give up on Hummel," said Derek bluntly.
The sigh that came from Logan was sincerely exasperated. "Derek, I don't care how many times you have to say it, but nothing will make it go away. You think I like chasing after someone that difficult? And have you seen the way he dresses when not in uniform? I swear, I wouldn't be able to take him to a country club without—"
"Country club? Logan, you're making plans on introducing Kurt to your parents?" Derek stared, stunned. "What, are you planning on getting engaged? No offense, but this is starting to get insane, even for you."
"Michelle's coming to watch me perform tonight. If she and the old man are coming, I don't see why I shouldn't tell them about Kurt."
"You are crazy. I'll say it as many times as I have to. I thought that you were going to be all right as long as you were "interested" but this is overboard. You're making plans out of air. And you know that Mr. Wright won't be thrilled to hear about this."
Logan dropped down from the branch with a dull thump. "He's never thrilled to hear anything about me that involves another male, Derek. He's relieved that I actually have you; he's hoping that you'll unload one of your girlfriends onto me."
"I wouldn't give you any one of them, you're too volatile." Derek crossed his arms over his chest again. "You're being rejected soundly by Hummel, Logan. Plans on whisking him away to the East Coast and introducing him to the country club is so out of the question—"
"This isn't like last year, Derek!" Logan threw up his arms. "It wasn't even like this with Blaine! And I don't know why, and I don't care! It's driving me crazy, I don't chase people, they come to me. You think this is easy? You try it!"
"Logan, Kurt's made his choice. He's in love with Blaine."
Logan stopped. He slowly turned to his friend, who was looking firm and almost sympathetic. "…what did you say?"
Derek sighed. "I saw Van Kamp and Hummel on the courtyard. They were arguing or…something. But I heard him tell Reed how he felt about Blaine. He said he was in love with him. If he's strong enough to admit it to someone else, I think it means game over."
The next thing Derek knew, Logan had hurled him onto the nearest brick wall, arms planted on either side and green eyes blazing. Logan looked—for lack of a better word—positively murderous. "What?"
"Logan!" Derek shouted furiously, pushing him off. "Get a grip!"
"No!"
Derek grabbed him by the jacket and flung him into the wall in turn with a crash. The green rage in his eyes dimmed. Logan seemed to come to his senses, breathing hard and moving a hand through his hair. There was a tense pause as he regained composure. "Thanks…"
"Have you been taking your medication?"
No answer. Derek angrily pushed him. "Have you been taking your medication, I asked!"
"…not…regularly." When he saw the look on his friend's face, Logan added, "I don't want to! I don't like being numb! I want to feel something, anything! It was awful being so incredibly numb—especially during that storm! I was with Kurt and I didn't feel anything! It's stupid and it makes no sense but he makes me feel something!"
Derek looked furious. "You're letting him ruin all the progress you've made! He's not worth it, Logan! Think about what you'll lose if you don't start trying to control yourself. You remember why you're in Dalton, don't you? Why you're in Westerville instead of the Upper East Side?"
"…yes."
"You're just not capable of having a docile relationship with Blaine back then—and right now Kurt won't be any different either," Derek snapped. "He's not worth all this!"
Logan slumped down onto the ground the way he did during Sectionals, after Kurt had slapped him and fled his presence, leaving him cold with nothing to grasp on. It was like a candle going out, leaving him in the dark, angry and confused all over again. He put his hands to his temples. He wanted that light back.
"…yes he is."
The students of Dalton began to pour into the stands of the massive field. The Dalton boys had shed their uniforms in favor of coats, watching as the St. Patrick Lions supporters started to rapidly fill the other side, their white, green and gold bannerettes and flags waving. Some of them bore lime green vuvuzelas and were starting to trumpet noisily.
The Dalton Kings supporters waved their own flags—the gold-slashed blue flaglets from Windsor, the white-crossed red flags for Stuart, and the gold-trimmed white from Hanover—creating the colors of Dalton on their stands. They too were armed with vuvuzelas, determined to drown out the chants of the St. Patrick Banshees who were starting to gather before the St. Patrick stands.
"S.P.! let's hear it!" the cheerleaders were clapping in rhythm.
"Lions!" the crowd roared back.
The twins dragged Blaine over to the seats in spite of his vociferous protests to watching the game. Quite frankly, he preferred to be out of Murdoch's line of fire—he had loathed the coach since he began working with them, and his quitting the team due to his decision to avoid his torment and put in more attention to the Warblers didn't put him in the best light either. However, the twins wouldn't have it and wanted him to sit and watch Wes and David, mainly to see if they were to attempt any more physics-defying stunts.
"What did you talk about with Kurt earlier?" asked Blaine as they sat down.
"He's on his way with Reed. They just wanted some…equipment." The twins looked wildly animated, odd considering that they were not at all fond of the sports teams (in spite of their obvious talent for physical activity). "You have to be here, Blaine, I'm telling you. It's going to be good."
"You two know something we don't?" Dwight, who had also been coerced to sit in (with threats of fire towards his extensive collection of Demonology books), now frowned at the twins. "Did you rig the game or something?"
"Or something," Evan said, barely able to keep sitting.
"Won't know what hit them," Ethan grinned.
Justin came down the aisle and sat near them. He nodded to the Windsor prefect with a friendly grin. "Good party the other day, Dwight. All right there, Blaine?"
"All right, Justin," Blaine nodded. "What brings you here?"
"Checking up on you. Logan worries me. He's fuming again." Justin gave him a brief smile. "Might have thought he'll be after your blood. Never quite had as much trouble with a Stuart prefect before. Makes me demmed uncomfortable, honestly."
"It's your last year," Blaine warned. "You should try to take it easy on getting involved."
"Between Windsor and Stuart and the way they are?" Justin snorted, his cockney accent more pronounced when annoyed. "I could hardly stay out of it. It'd be like running away from a fire instead of putting it out. Have you any idea how glad I am that Hanover's peaceful? Or at least—has been since Wesley left. I promise you, the man was meant to be one of you."
The twins looked rather proud of that. "'Stuart boys believe in pure expertise! Hanover boys are keepers of the peace! Windsor boys break the boundaries'!" they said, happily reciting the common demarcation between the three Houses, quoting the speech of Herman Dalton, the school founder.
The stands bursts into cheers and trumpeting as both teams came out onto the field. The Lions were in their green with white trim while the Kings had donned their predominantly white and blue uniforms. David was the only one different; his bright red goalkeeper's jersey stood out among the others and after their caucus with Murdoch, the team went into the field.
The kickoff was had and the game began amidst wild cheering from both ends. From the other side, the Banshees started to go to formation and began to dance, waving pompoms. Their uniforms hugged their bodies in the best ways possible, and they wore green tanks with short tube skirts that may have well been scarves for their size. With every high kick, the Dalton boys marveled at their shiny gold chrome spankies that were barely hidden by the skirts.
"Saint Patrick, let me hear it!" they would chant.
"Lions!" the crowd would roar back.
"Saint Patrick, come on, roar!"
"Lions!"
With every crowd scream, the Banshees would fly into the air, completing perfect double axels in their basket tosses. A whole line of Banshees made simultaneous herkies to delight of the crowds from both schools. The Dalton Kings, watching the eyes of their own cheer block fastened onto the Banshees, looked on in disgust. The few boys with conviction kept trying to drown them out and distract others with the maddening sound of vuvuzelas.
"Where are they…?" Evan muttered, scanning the crowd.
"The Banshees are owning it. The Lions just got a stolen ball again."
"Do you think Reed chickened out? It was in under five hours."
"Reed would never chicken out. He may be a little skittish, but he'd never chicken out."
"Well all right. He's also a Warbler, so routines shouldn't be that hard for him…"
"Except this one involves tricks…"
"What are you talking about?" asked Dwight, confused.
"Where are Kurt and Reed?" Blaine asked, a little concerned. "They said they'd be here in time for the game." He looked around. It was worth noting that Logan was not in the stands among the Stuart block.
The twins waved away his concern. "Relax, Rabbit—just focus on your performance for later tonight."
David, out on the field, was starting to look truly annoyed. He was a particularly excellent goalkeeper and was loathed by virtually the entire league for his incorrigible defense of the Dalton goal. But even he was starting to get tired swatting away attacks when their own players would get distracted by a flash of spankies and a saucy wink from some daring Banshee at the other end.
The score remained at a stagnant 0-0, and it was starting to get obvious that the Kings' morale was not as great. David was furiously holding the defense nearly by himself as attack after attack by the Kings failed on the Lions' end.
"If by some act of God we win this stupid farce, screw the Best Goalkeeper Award; I'm petitioning the league for David to get the damn MVP," Wes panted to one of their best strikers as they ran down the field.
"We'll get the damn trophy engraved with his name if we have to," the other boy answered breathlessly. He glanced to his left and punched Wes in the arm. "Wes! Come on—get your head in the game!"
Wes, distracted by Tabitha's flirty smile and wave from across the field, all but missed the pass. David dropped his face into his palm as Wes struggled to recover and kicked the ball across to another striker. From the Banshees, a severe brunette with "captain" sparkling in glitter at the back of her uniform snapped her fingers at Tabitha's face. "Come on, Adams! And when you do that basket toss, suck it in, you understand?"
Tabitha fidgeted. "Yes, ma'am."
Dwight winced as, with a sickening crunch, a striker from the Kings collided with another from the Lions'. There were problems on the field as people tried to sort it out. "What is happening…"
"Any minute now…come on half time…" the twins muttered.
As the players retreated momentarily to their respective locker rooms at the end of the first half of the game (the Lions perhaps were to rest and plan the slaughter of the Kings, who were probably on the receiving end of Murdoch's infamous wrath), the Banshees started to run into the field to formation. The Dalton boys, no longer entirely too depressed by the two goose eggs sitting on the scoreboard, perked up to watch the "league's hottest cheerleaders" prepare to perform.
The Banshees were talented—they had won second and first runner up titles for the past four years—and they started off a halftime performance. The Pussycat Dolls blasted from the stadium sound system and St. Patrick's side started to cheer madly.
Comprised of basket tosses and gymnastic stunts, the Banshees danced and ground to When I Grow Up with perfect allure, whipping their heavily hairsprayed curls through the air and waving not only to the St. Patrick crowd but also to the Dalton one. The latter block happily responded.
"How did you get Coach Sylvester to say yes?" Quinn asked in the dim women's locker room.
"I sold my soul," Kurt's voice answered. "I'm yours for Regionals and Nationals. I'm to undergo some hellish nightmare training every Friday night, without complaint or excuse—which includes mutilation and critical illness—to keep up with your routines. Sylvester also has permission to use the Dalton field for whatever top secret performance operations she should need it for…and apparently there's a "burying-dead-bodies-in-it" clause somewhere in the contract she drew. …that and Reed agreed to buy the whole squad gift certificates to free dinners in Breadsticks for the next month."
"I love you, by the way," Santana said from somewhere.
"Right…" Reed sounded awkward and shifted. "If it'll get us to win this one game for Dalton, I would've bought for two months. Kurt, are you sure you want me to do this?"
"You look fine. You'll do fine. You managed to keep up with the whole thing. You don't need to do anything that complicated."
"And besides," Santana said wickedly, "We'll only toss you two stories high. No big."
"Kurt!"
"Santana, stop scaring him; he's not used to that succubus that inhabits your skin. You'll be fine, Reed."
"The Banshees are out…" said Brittany from near the door. "They're almost done…"
There was a crowd of bodies at the door now. Santana snorted. "Hottest cheerleaders in the league my ass. Those Banshees are going down—we won't even need Coach Sue's new routine for this one. Our 'limber up' routine is good enough."
"Dalton won't know the difference anyway," Kurt answered. He watched as Margot, the head cheerleader walked up front like a supermodel and started blowing kisses to the crowd, even to the Dalton one. His eyes narrowed. "It's on, bitches."
Dalton almost never had halftime performances (except for the one time the Warblers performed), and so the Banshees fully expected to make an encore. As they finished their performance of When I Grow Up, they started to attack the crowd to get them warmed up for the second one. They were ready for their next performance—Stripper, by the Soho Dolls, designed to effectively kill the entire stadium—but the opening bars only barely managed to get out before the stadium lights died.
The twins looked up and grinned. "Yes!"
There was confusion in the stadium as the crowds murmured. On the grounds, however, the Banshees were startled to find other bodies invading the field, dutifully pushing them out of the centre ground with definite authority.
"Move. Move." The other girls, vague in the darkness, pushed them off like drill sergeants.
"What the hell?" Margot demanded, looking furious as she nearly stumbled, shoved into the rest of the Banshee crowd at the St. Patrick sidelines.
Quinn, Brittany and Santana only smiled and turned, walking to their position facing the Dalton crowd.
The lights flickered—and began to change color wildly. When the music started to blast from the speakers, the lights moved in time to the rhythm. A crowd standing in perfect, flawless formation was standing in the middle, heads down, shadows bouncing in the flashing lights.
Though at first confused, the boys realized what they were looking at—girls in cheerleading uniforms. They were aided by a small smattering of boys—lifters—in the same. The red and white Cheerios uniforms flashed with each light beat. The second team of girls was now facing the Dalton crowd, tight ponytails high on their heads, waiting for the cue.
I make them good girls go bad
I make them good girls go—
Good girls go bad
The Dalton stands erupted into wild cheering as confetti exploded from cannons and the Cheerios began to move, right as the music kicked up. Unlike the Banshees, only the backup Cheerios had pompoms. The main phalanx had none, putting all the focus to their hypnotic dance. The Kings, having heard the music and the mad cheering from the Dalton stands, started to pour into the sidelines, watching in shock.
Quinn, Santana and Brittany up front; the girls moved with purpose and shot the boys smoldering looks as they performed their flawless dance moves—Brittany's twirling and hip moves receiving special attentions. Santana threw them a smirk before doing perfect back handsprings and into the other cheerleaders, where she was caught, lifted and given a basket toss that must have been three stories high. The stands went wild.
But it had just begun. It was when a small strawberry-haired boy in Cheerios red-and-white strode forward with a grin that was almost a smirk, wearing a mic, came striding forward and began to join them in the dance, taking the lead and raising his voice:
I know your type
You're daddy's little girl
Just take a bite
Let me shake up your world
'Cause just one night couldn't be so wrong
I'm gonna make you lose control—
"Is that Reed?" Dwight burst out in utter shock from the stands as Blaine, mouth open in shock, leaned far over the rail.
"It's Reed—I don't believe it!" Wes yelled, laughing with the rest of the amazed team.
The twins were yelling at the top of their lungs, cheering with all their might as the Windsor boys went crazy, the Warblers from all houses throwing their flags into the air. Reed was clearly not as expert as the hardcore cheerleaders, but he kept up in fine style for the hyped-up chorus dance.
I make them good girls go bad
I make them good girls go bad
You were hanging in the corner with your five best friends
You heard that I was trouble but you couldn't resist
I make them good girls go bad
I make them good girls go
Good girls go bad—
The Cheerios bumped and thrust to the beat, causing both the St. Patrick and Dalton's cheer blocks to go mad as they peeled off in military precision. Reed joined the girls in the dance moves before stepping back and pointing to the group behind him, ducking down to make room afterwards.
An entire V-shaped group lifted girls in liberties before they dismounted cradled off—and as they fell away, the middle dancers knelt down to reveal Kurt Hummel in his old Cheerios uniform standing with a smirk, singing:
I know your type
Boy, you're dangerous
Yeah, you're that guy
I'd be stupid to trust
But just one night couldn't be so wrong
You make me wanna lose control—
He finished his lines with a smirk and a wink that nearly had Blaine going into heart failure. The twins smirked mercilessly at him, pretending to shake him back to reality.
"Yeah!" David yelled, clapping his gloved hands.
I make them good girls go bad
I make them good girls go bad
You were hanging in the corner with your five best friends
You heard that I was trouble but you couldn't resist
I make them good girls go bad
I make them good girls go
Good girls go bad—
Kurt, having been trained far more rigorously than Reed, was moving almost perfectly with the Cheerios now as they performed a succession of dance moves combined with gymnastics. From behind him, Reed mounted and was thrown into the air in a backflip, causing the Dalton boys to cheer like mad. Reed would go on record later to say that he had never met girls who were so ferociously strong in his life.
Kurt and Reed performed simultaneous front handsprings—Kurt adding a roundoff to his—before they stood up front and the group mimed a military march in their dance, the Cheerios chorusing with them.
Oh, she's got away with the boys in the place
Treat 'em like they don't stand a chance—
And he's got away with the girls in the back
Acting like they're too hot to dance—
Yeah, she's got away with the boys in the place
Treat 'em like they don't stand a chance—
And he's got away with the girls in the back
Acting like they're too hot to dance—
With every line, Dalton responded with a deafening cheer. The song continued with this same effect and even the players on the sidelines were starting to dance. The St. Patrick crowd had started to join in and their stunned Banshees could hardly react.
A final pyramid and pose from the entire squad, along with no less than four erupting confetti cannons, reduced the stadium to pandemonium, and vuvuzelas trumpeted in all directions as the boys pounded at the rails with their flags. The Cheerios stood triumphant, with Kurt and Reed panting in the front with Quinn, Brittany and Santana.
"I can't believe we just did that," Reed muttered, holding the pose and looking at the animated Dalton crowd. "Look at these guys!"
"If it was this easy to get these guys riled up, I'd've done this sooner," Kurt smirked.
There was a furious commotion from the back. "Excuse me—let me through here—HEY!" The last word came from Margot, who, up close, towered over Kurt as she stood a full six feet tall with solid limbs and rock hard abs that rivaled Brittany's.
"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded. "You guys deliberately interrupted our performance—you're not even from Dalton! Dalton doesn't have any girls!"
"All right, Miss Sandpaper-Skinned Amazon, if that's how you want it…"
Sue Sylvester approached with a cool expression, giving the Banshees a once over as the Cheerios stood at sane distance—Kurt gathered Reed up under his wing and moved him away from crossfire. "Interesting assortment of frightened baby mice you've gathered here—I'm sure they'll be killed swiftly yet painfully once we decide to weed out the competition for Regionals this year. Or maybe we won't have to once they break their necks from those hideously executed deadmans you've been doing all afternoon. My shares in funeral parlors will soar."
"That doesn't change anything!" Margot blurted out. "You're not—"
"It just so happens that I have leverage in these matters after six straight years of winning nationals with our ridiculously overproduced routines—I have it on good authority, based on extreme blackmailing, creative torture methods and my contract, that the Cheerios will cheer for whoever we want to cheer at any given time, which includes cheering over the forthcoming demise of your squad if we feel like it. If you like, we may even use pompoms made of your greasy, unwashed hair as a sign of mourning."
She leaned over to Margot. "Now turn your little implanted butt cheeks around, and go back to your basecamp before we throw our emergency rations of high-protein powder at you and eat you alive."
Margot colored scarlet and purple. She whirled around, snapping her fingers—and the Banshees followed her, looking back frightened at Sue.
The fearsome coach now turned to Kurt. "Porcelain, I expect you to be in the field by Friday."
Kurt just smiled. The Cheerios looked amused. At this point, the Kings had torn into the field started throwing themselves onto them. "That was great!" Wes said, wildly elated.
"I had no idea you cheered, Kurt!" David exclaimed.
"That was hot—definitely hot," Wes agreed, grinning broadly. He turned to the other boys, "Come on, let's go get these Lions!"
In a united battle cry, the Kings ran into the field. The Windsor boys started leaping over the barricades and to Kurt and Reed on the grounds, where they were subsequently smothered by hugs of gratitude.
Dalton won the game with their single goal coming from Wes' furious charge through the field with only seconds left to the game. The whole time, the Cheerios jumped up and down cheering on the sidelines, urging the Dalton boys to cheer along and rousing the Kings' spirits. David held on to the end—not a single goal went past him, even if he did end up concussing himself on a post.
Confetti fell from the sky as the Dalton students leapt at their team's first victory over St. Patrick's in four years, firmly rooting in Kurt's mind the power of hormones over a single-gender community.
It was after the game, when the team had been back in the locker room and the Windsor boys were escorting the Cheerios to their bus, that Mr. Harvey came up to them.
"Hello, Kurt, Reed," He was smiling broadly. "Interesting performance."
The two just laughed, Kurt sliding a hand carefully over his hair to fix his bangs. Greg continued, "If you two manage to pull off that same energy for your other duet later this evening, I'd be very glad to put that particular song into our repertoire."
"Seriously?" Reed laughed, surprised.
"You two also seem to be quite good at movement. Ms. Medel and I would like to look into the possibility of a bit more movement in our routines as the New Directions are clearly able to move and sing."
"Sounds great!" Kurt said, grinning. "I already have ideas."
"Not too overboard, all right?" Greg smiled. "Shall we be expecting your parents? Both of you?"
"Yes," Kurt nodded, and Reed did the same, but he looked a trifle uncomfortable. Greg looked at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do fine." And he left.
Kurt glanced at his friend. Reed glanced up at him and smiled. "I really liked performing with you out there. I didn't know it was that much fun to be the center of the performance."
"Of course it is," Kurt grinned. "And you'll dazzle your mom, I'm sure."
"Yeah…" Reed just smiled. He looked up to something behind Kurt, then grinned. "Gonna go make sure the twins keep their creepy off the girls and vice versa with Dwight." He fled.
Kurt was a little surprised, and he turned and found Blaine standing there with a smile. "Nice performance. Pretty unexpected."
"What can I say…I have many sides to me." Kurt smiled, turning a bit red. He was still wearing the fitting Cheerios uniform that showed off his body in devastating style. Blaine was contemplating it. He gestured to it.
"You should keep that, you know."
"Why?"
"It looks terribly good on you."
After hearing what he said in the hall, Kurt colored to his scalp. "Right…well…don't get used to it. It's not going to happen again."
"Who knows? Maybe it will. You've given the boys a taste and they'll want the Cheerios back. And I kind of like seeing you so lively." He smiled. "You looked happier as the center."
"And that, you'll definitely see again tonight."
On the next episode: It was one unforgettable Winter night, where all dancing stops for one moment paused. The tableu stands with Kurt in the center, but not everyone in the ball is dancing off the same steps. There are many secrets and there are many whispers, and Kurt sees, however briefly, what is true, and what is not.