[Apologies for the re-upload, I'm having some trouble with the site and accidentally deleted the whole chapter, welp.]

THIS STORY IS NOT DEAD. Ahem. Okay, I'm sorry it's been...I don't even know how long it's been since I updated this, but it is most certainly not abandoned, and I intend for future updates to be much, much swifter. My apologies.

Rating: M for swearing.

Warnings: None, really, other than swearing. And possibly bad writing. Please feel free to point out any mistakes ;D

Disclaimer: If I owned Fox, Glee would be on after 9 and Kurt would be having much more sex.

Notes: Okay, first off, since I'm following canon and the opposing teams aren't mentioned again for a while, so you're going to have to wait a little for the Garglers to come back, m'kay?

Secondly, I've skipped Throwdown. Why? Because I actually wrote a chapter for it, but it was so boring. If it feels like I've missed anything, it's probably because of all the stuff I took out but, ugh, I just need to post this chapter and be done with it before it kills me. I can't wait to move on to the next chapter! XD

So, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy!

Mash-up

It's Friday evening and I'm standing here, almost feeling like a real couple, about to meet Rachel's parents. There are butterflies in my stomach and my palms are sweating, and I'm absolutely fucking terrified.

Her house is no different from the last time I was here but somehow it's a thousand times more intimidating now. When Rachel lets me in I glance around in terror for five minutes before she laughs and tells me to calm down.

She pulls me into the kitchen and I see two men standing over a bag of Chinese food. I'd told Rachel what I wanted beforehand so she could order for when I got here, and we could minimize the awkward in-between time.

One of the men is probably Rachel's dad, and grins up at me, but the other guy…I try to figure out who he is: even if the other guy's not her dad after all, there is no way this guy is because he's…well, he's black, which means he can't be an uncle or anything either, so maybe he's just a friend or…

'David, these are my dads.' Rachel says, and I can literally feel my jaw dropping.

Her dads. Plural.

Rachel has two dads. Two gay dads.

Well, fuck. That would…actually, yeah, that explains a lot. Like, why she invited me here, why she defended homosexuality…her parents are gay.

I know I must look shocked and uncomfortable since her dads glance at each other before smiling and introducing themselves as Leroy and Hiram.

And I stand there looking like an idiot because I seem to have lost the ability to speak. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Rachel's dads! You're gay and I'm having issues with my sexual identity! Let's be friends! Or maybe something more along the lines of Hey, fancy a challenge? Try and figure out my sexuality for me!

I settle for a feeble 'hey', and hope I don't look too awkward. I don't succeed. In fact, I don't think I could look any more awkward if I tried.

So we sit and they serve dinner and we chat about Glee club and Rachel's awesomeness and whether I prefer hockey or football. One of her dads starts talking about how he was in the hockey team in High School, and the other jokes about how the only skating he did was figure skating. I laugh, and it's not because I have to. Rachel smiles a lot and rests her shoulder into my side, a comforting weight that reminds me that she understands that this is weird for me. Then we have a light, mocking argument about what film to watch because Hiram wants to watch some French film with subtitles but Leroy teases that I probably don't want to watch a film in another language since I'm a teenage guy, unless they have anything Russian because Karofsky, that's Russian right?

So I chuckle and admit that whilst my family was originally Russian, all I know is hello, goodbye, can I have a coke please and the odd profanity. Rachel makes me ask her for a coke about three times before she can perfectly mimic the words. A couple minutes of DVD flicking later, she announces that we're going to watch The Notebook and her dads readily agree whilst I grin and shrug because I've never seen it.

But, the thing is, it's so easy. We haven't talked about sexuality even once. The fact that they're gay hasn't come up at all…it's just like I'm sat at the table with my own family. Completely and utterly normal.

They're normal.

This is just an evening spent eating Chinese food and watching The Notebook. Rachel's dads show affection in the way that only two people who've known each other for so long can do, Hiram slight leaning on Leroy's shoulder, Leroy brushing his hair out of his face after he's laughed at something on the screen. When the sad parts come, I don't miss that their hands interlock.

But it's still just an evening spent eating Chinese food and watching The Notebook, and it's probably the calmest I've felt for a long, long time.

And maybe, I think, just maybe Rachel is right. Maybe there is nothing wrong with being gay. Maybe this isn't just a phase; maybe if I accept this part of me, I can have a happy ending too.

'Hey, Rachel?' I'm at the door now, fumbling with my keys after saying goodbye to the Berrys. She looks up at me with a faint smile. 'Thanks. For…you know.' Suddenly, my throat seems very dry.

She just nods at me; smile increasing, and I realize for the first time how powerful it can be when someone doesn't say anything. Especially someone like Rachel.

So I don't say anything either, I just nod, and for that moment, I feel everything I want to say just flow between us. I wonder if Rachel really is psychic.

Or maybe, for once, I'm letting someone in.

It's a weird feeling. It feels something like progress.

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

The weekend's over and it's Monday. Here we are, just standing next to our lockers, innocently chatting. Well, you're innocently going on about the Sound of Music and I'm standing there feeling slightly guilty because, hey, this shit actually sounds good, and there I've been making fun of it all this time.

Little do I know what's coming up the hallway.

I suddenly feel you tense up next to me and a little squeak escapes your lips. And then it happens.

Splush.

Let me describe it to you: first, there's a flash of red. Then, the feeling of ice-cold slush hitting your face at the speed of a train, the pain and the shock and the sting sting sting as the corn syrup gets into your eyes…it's fucking agony. Which is totally ridiculous really, because it's just a slushie.

But you know that scene in Titanic where Leonardo De Caprio describes jumping off the ship and hitting the water, and it being like thousands of daggers or whatever? I always thought it was stupid in the film, but now I believe every word.

And that's not to mention the humiliation, the absolute shame, and the big fucking mess on my letterman jacket.

You just stand there, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

'Are you okay?' You ask gently, once the guy is out of sight. 'I can't believe they would do this.'

Oh, right, yeah, I didn't explain that bit, did I? Shit, I suck at this. Well, basically, Coach Tanaka flipped his shit the other day and said that he was bringing in a new practice, and Finn and I quickly realized that it's specifically timed when Glee club holds theirs. Which doubly sucks for me, because come Hockey season, I'm going to be juggling that particular Glee practice with hockey practice too, so if on the miraculous chance that the football team do make it to playoffs, I'd have three practices all at the same time.

Unfortunately, the rest of the football team knows this as well. And then came the threats. Most of the damn team came up to me and told me that if I quit they'd make sure to slushie me so hard I'd be seeing e-numbers for weeks. (I don't even know what that means, but I'm guessing what just happened was it.)

Quitting hockey was easier than I expected. I don't have to face the guys directly because we still have a couple months until practice starts. I think maybe I'll join a team out of school, somewhere that is totally separate from all these assholes. I don't know. I mean, I do like playing hockey. Maybe even more than football, sometimes, but honestly, those guys spend every free minute making fun of me for playing for both teams and being in homo-explosion, so it's difficult to enjoy myself when I'm around them. Not that the football team aren't assholes too.

I just don't know. Quitting football is different. Being on the football team means something. I may not enjoy the game as much, but being on the team means an immediate ticket to the top of the social pyramid. And considering I'm already weighing down my rep with Glee, I need football to stay on top.

But I love Glee. Okay, getting to spend time with you has something to do with it, I'll admit it. There's more to it than that, though: I've never felt so relaxed before, like finally I've found a technique that works, that keeps me from slipping back to that guy. You know the one I mean: the one who shoves geeks into lockers and laughs along with the homophobic jokes my teammates make.

'The slushie war has commenced.' You say, glancing at me with a worried look on your face. Then you wince, looking down at the ice dripping into my shirt. 'Ew.'

I wish I could say this is the last slushie I'm going to endure this week, but somehow, I doubt it.

~ Briiiing! ~

'Dude, what are you going to do?' Azimio asks me after practice. We're in the locker-room, changing, an activity I'd much rather be doing alone, but I have a class to get to. The practice ended ever so nicely with Coach Tanaka pulling me aside to remind me (as if yelling at us all on Monday wasn't enough,) that the practice tomorrow is mandatory.

'I don't know, man.' I groan, pulling my shirt off with some difficulty. 'If I don't turn up to that practice, Coach will kick me off the team. But…dude, I really like being in Glee club. I know that's sad or whatever, but I actually feel like I'm accomplishing something over there, you know?'

'…Well, I think it's stupid.' Azimio teases, and I punch him in the arm. He grins for a moment, before his face turns serious and his voice drops lower. 'But, honestly? You should do what makes you happy. Even if it means we end up losing even worse than we are now. Don't tell the other guys I said that.'

'And Hudson?'

Azimio falls quiet. This is a taboo subject. It's not like I expect Azimio to stop his ill-treatment of the Glee kids, or rather, of Finn, just because I'm friends with him now. After all, he has a reputation to maintain, even if mine is in tatters. 'He's the quarterback, man.' he sighs, and I nod slowly. 'I'm not going to be able to call off the other guys.'

'Just promise me you won't join in, okay?' Azimio raises his eyebrows. 'Z, please. If he quits Glee club, we're screwed.'

Azimio lets out a groan, 'I'm sorry, dude. You know I can't do that.' I nod again, understanding, and am about to say something, when –

'Hello, boys.'

Oh, dear god, no.

You prance in, changed out of your uniform into a lovely combination of skinny jeans and a jacket that's a mash of pink, blue and white. I saw you leave a little while ago, since I've noticed you avoid changing with us when there are more than a few people here. I guess you went to a bathroom stall or something, or to the girls' locker room (are you even allowed to do that?) Either way, you're now back in front of us in a whirl of bright color, and I'm not sure if your outfit looks good or hurts my eyes.

'I know you've all been informed of the choice us Glee kids are being forced to make.' You announce. About a dozen half-naked teenage boys grab for towels and shirts, but you continue, oblivious. 'I'm sure it's obvious where my loyalties lie, but I thought it only fair if I let you know that I'm leaving the football team. It has been honorable serving with you, gentlemen.'

With that, a glance in my direction and a slight smile, you flounce off again. When you're gone, the room bursts into angry murmurs, with the odd side-glance in my direction. I let out a noise of derision, and grab my bag, ready to leave, and Azimio follows me out of the room without another word.

Things go even more downhill from there. As soon I as enter the hallway commences slushie of the week, number two.

First I feel the sting. Then I blink wildly and splutter as blue slush drips down my face. Azimio curses, and once I've wiped the ice out of my eyes, I realize why.

Mullets, mullets, everywhere.

'So, Karofsky. We heard you're ditching us for the football team and Lullaby Lees? Thought we'd show you exactly what we thought of that.' Scott Cooper is sneering at me, and it's hard to look intimidating in return when covered in corn syrup.

My brain hasn't quite recovered from the shock yet, but I manage to grind out something along the lines of 'What of it, Scotty? Hurt I chose the football team over you?'

'Hardly.' Scotty replies, but there's a certain tension to his voice. 'Not like we need you anyway. The fag-ball team can have you.'

'Screw you, Cooper!' Azimio shouts from beside me, and then after a moment continues with a sneer, 'You and your Puck-heads are nothing!'

'Yeah, well at least we won more than one match last year, Adams.'

I can't help but let out a snort. 'More like I've won them for you, Cooper. Good luck without me.' And with that, I whirl around and storm back into the locker room, ignoring the few teammates who are still in there.

Screw the guys snickering as I walk past them. Screw being on time for calculus. Screw it all.

I ignore everyone as I strip down again, turning the shower scalding hot. The remaining ice melts almost immediately and I scrub at it, desperate to get clean. Five minutes later, the room has emptied, but I keep my head under the hot water, trying to hide the tears streaming down my face.

'You're missing calculus.'

It's your voice that breaks me out of my trance. I don't look back, since I know it's you. Instead, I dip my head again, and grind out: 'Screw calculus.'

'You like calculus.' Your voice is smooth and calm.

It's around about now that I realize that you're in the same room as me whilst I'm naked and, fuck, please say you're not standing close enough to see me.

'Why are you watching me shower?' I choke out, both desperate to change the subject and find out how close you are.

'My back is turned, I promise.' I glance over my shoulder, and you're not lying. 'I saw what happened, are you okay? That seemed even more painful than the first time.'

'I'm fine.' I say, trying not to sound nervous.

'Is that why you're having your second shower in thirty minutes?'

'I…god, it's…' I can feel my voice breaking, and I know you must have realized I'm crying by now.

'It's what?'

'It's so humiliating! I don't know if I can do this, Kurt! I don't know if I can go through this every day. I just want things back the way they were, back when people would move out of my way in the halls, and the guys wouldn't talk behind my back and call me names and…fuck!' I break off as I realize I'm both ranting and sobbing. The room is quiet.

'Then quit.' Your voice rings out, clear and seemingly nonchalant.

'What?'

'Quit Glee Club.' you repeat, 'If it means that much to you to be popular, quit Glee club. Don't come to practice tomorrow, go to Football.' I say nothing. 'We'll understand. It's not easy, being one of us. If you have a chance for something better, you should go for it. We won't hate you for that.'

'We?' I say, 'What about you?' I speak so quietly that I think my voice may be lost in the sounds of rushing water.

But your silence isn't because you didn't hear me. After a few moments, you sigh. 'I want what's best for you, David. We all do.' A pause, 'Just…remember, if you quit Glee, I'll still be here for you. Even if you don't want to be seen in public with me…I'll still be your friend.'

I don't look back, even as your footsteps quieten, and the door closes behind you.

~ Briiiing! ~

It's 3:28pm and I've walked back and forth from the locker room and the choir room four times. I haven't reached either door yet, before I turn around at walk to the other. Slung over one shoulder is my letterman jacket, and in my hand is a pile of sheet music.

I'm a walking paradox.

One minute, I'm ready to quit the football team, forsake any smidgen of popularity I have left, the next I want to run into that locker room and hear the people who I used to think were my friends cheer and laugh and welcome me back with pats on the back.

I think about you telling me that you'll be my friend whether I stay with Glee or not. I think about Azimio standing up for me, and telling me that I should do what I love.

You tell me to quit Glee. He tells me to quit football. Both of you want the opposite of what you're saying.

You want me to stay in Glee and he wants me to stay in football. And you're both my friends. But Azimio is my best friend and I love him like a brother. I don't love you like a brother. I love you like…I don't love you. I don't think I love you.

So why exactly am I walking into the choir room right now?

~ Briiiing! ~

The second attack comes the day after I blow off the practice for Glee. I'd made my choice: Glee over football. I'm walking along the corridor with you, talking about our latest Glee assignment. We've both failed epically in trying to think of a song to go with Bust A Move. Then I see Finn walking up the hall and my world turns purple.

And so here I am, getting slushied again, by Finn, of all people. Welcome to the new world order, Karofsky.

But then he lifts up his other hand, grasping another cup.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing, Hudson?' I yell, slush dripping down my shirt, and before I know it, he's up against the lockers with my hand on his throat.

I really need to stop doing this.

'Dude!' He groans, and I let up slightly, realizing that I have him pinned in what could be (rightly) perceived as threatening.

It's one thing to slushie me, but when Hudson's about to give you a slushie facial, that's something else. There is no way I'm letting him do it, even if it means another permanent purple stain on my shirt.

'What are you doing?' I repeat and he glances towards you and then back at me.

'The team are going to kick my ass if I don't do it!' Finn whines, staring down at me with an expression of both fear and confusion.

'Dave, DAVE! Let him go!' You shriek, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me away. Finn, somehow still clutching the slushie, turns towards you with a pained look on his face. I glare at him.

'If a single drop of that hits Kurt I'll kill you, Hudson!' I growl, but you elbow me.

'Dave!' You snap. 'Shut up.'

'Dude, he's about to slushie you!'

'And he has every reason to do so. I quit the team for Glee club too. And I'm wearing this outfit for a reason, remember?' You motion down to the see-through anorack thing that I'd been wondering about earlier. I had assumed it was just another fashion statement, until I realized that all of Glee club was wearing less fashionable versions of the same kind. Then it turned out that there had been a message on facebook that the football team was out to get us today and that we needed to band together and wear waterproofs.

If I spent more time social networking and less time attempting to do calculus homework, I'd be dry right now. Screw you, high school.

'Yeah, but your hair!' I wince just thinking about it, and you do too, but you puff yourself up and shake your head.

'Just call me a martyr.'

'Kurt, what–' I start, but you cut me off haughtily.

'That slushie is meant for me, David. I won't let you endure it for me.'

'Dude, I'm already covered in ice–'

'That's not the point. You quit the team so you got slushied, and now it's my turn.' You turn to face Finn, face set, but he's hesitating now.

'I…I can't, Kurt…I mean, I know how picky you are about what products you use on your skin.' He groans, and I shoot him a glare.

I don't have the nerve to touch him again since you told me not to, but instead I just growl 'Don't you dare, Hudson!'

'But…damnit, man! If I don't do it the guys on the team are gonna kick the crap out of me.'

'Well, we can't have that.' You say, and suddenly you've seized the cup from Finn and are holding it out in your hands.

'Wh- what are you doing?'

'It's called taking one for the team.' You say ominously, before throwing the slushie in your own face.

Hudson stands there, stunned. You splutter and wince, and wipe the slush out of your eyes. 'Now get out of here,' You tell him, 'and take some time to think whether any of your friends on the football team would have done that for you.'

Then, when he's gone, you throw up your hands. 'Someone get me to a day spa, stat!'

And I'm just standing there thinking what the heck I should do; when the girls seize you and frog march you to the girls' bathroom. I stare after them for a second, but then Mercedes' hand clasps around my wrist and yanks me in after them.

I immediately freak out and shut my eyes, but after a burbled resistance and a worried glance behind me, I give in and look around the room.

So this is what it's like on the other side.

I've never been in the girls' room before, at least not since I was a kid and too young to go to the bathroom without my mom. Puckerman's offered me a glance through his secret girls' bathroom peephole, but I've always turned him down. And now, here I stand. And hey, it's true what everyone's always said, it's so much cleaner in here than ours.

I'm kind of just standing awkwardly, though, since Mercedes and the other girls are currently washing the grape slushie from your eyes and cooing over you. Then, just as I start edging towards the door, Tina stares pointedly at me. 'We need to talk.' She says, ominously.

Tina's talk turns out to be more of a curious probing into the nature of our friendship. There are a lot of questions about friendship and football players and where my loyalties lie.

'Have you really quit the team?'

'Uh, well, I was kicked out for not turning up to practice. But, yeah. I have.'

'And your intentions towards Kurt are?' This one makes me choke on air.

'What? No! We're just friends! I'm not gay.' My voice drops very low on the last word, and I can't help but glance around.

When I look back at Tina, I can't tell if she's still glaring, or if that's just her eyes, but she seems to be less angry. 'Fine.' She says, sounding slightly calmer and then walks over to where you're drying yourself off with a towel. 'Are you okay, Kurt?' She rejoins the girls as they fuss about.

A few minutes later, the girls are kissing you on the cheeks and telling you how brave you are, before they start to leave for lunch.

'You coming?' Mercedes, asks, and you shoot her a smile.

'I'll meet you there later.' Mercedes gives you a knowing grin in return, and then leaves, waving. You turn to me and say, bashfully: 'Uh, sorry they didn't really help you out.'. 'You're not an honorary girl like me, I suppose.' You let out an awkward little laugh that I echo. 'Um. Do you want me to…'

'Oh, no, I'm fine!' I insist quickly, then, pushing the girls' bathroom door open a crack and peeking out to check that the coast is clear, I swiftly scoot to the boys' room across the hall, you following behind me.

I practically throw my head in the sink, scrubbing at my face with my hands and it takes me a minute or so to catch your disapproving look in the mirror. 'What?' I ask, and you shake your head.

'Please tell me this isn't how you usually clean slushies off.' You say, looking vaguely horrified. I shrug and you wince at me. 'Well I suppose it's quicker than jumping in the shower.'

'What else am I supposed to do?' I murmur, continuing my scrubbing and trying not to just smear the grape flavored ice everywhere.

'Did you not just see how we meticulously washed all the slush off in a manner that doesn't cause permanent damage to my face? And by the way, if you keep doing that your skin will turn purple.' I stop, and you survey me for a second, before rolling your eyes.

'Here.' Before I know it, you've whipped a tissue out and moved towards me. And I've stopped breathing. Brilliant.

Oxygen, Dave, oxygen. It's that thing that keeps people alive.

You're dabbing my face gently with a tissue, scooping up the last of the grape flavored slush and, with a distasteful look on your face, dumping it quickly in the trash.

'Now, we get a moist towelette and make sure your skin is clean.'

'But you just wiped the slush off…'

'And if you leave it now you'll have a sticky residue, is that what you want?' Your raise your eyebrows and I glare at you.

'No need to be so patronizing.' I grunt, and then sigh. 'Oh, go on, get me a…whatever you said.'

'Here, let me just…'

I don't hear the rest of the sentence because, wait, you're not passing me anything, you're actually wiping my face with some wet-wipe thing and whoa whoa whoa…I think my brain just short-circuited.

You run the wipe along my forehead and hairline, smoothing back my hair with the other hand, gently. Then your hand circles my head and grips the back of it to keep my face steady as you bring the wipe down to my nose and cheeks. You're so fucking close I can feel your warm breath contrasting the coolness of the damp paper. You're staring right into my face with an intense look of concentration, softly wiping my skin in circular motions.

'Close your eyes.' You say, and I don't think I'm imagining your voice being cracked and breathless. So I close my eyes and you run the towelette over the lids softly and carefully. Way too slowly, too; I'm sure they don't need this much time, but I'm in darkness and I can't see you, so really, I don't know what you're doing.

Except, I can feel your breath on my lips now, right on the lips, the way it would feel if you were practically pressed against them. And for the briefest second, I swear I can nearly feel your lips push against mine, our skin making the tiniest bit of contact.

But then there's a rush of cold air and all contact is gone. I open my eyes and you're leaning back, you must have moved pretty fast to be that far away.

'Kurt?' I say, feigning ignorance. It works, I can see you physically relaxing. 'You alright?'

'Uh, yeah.' You smile at me, and lean back. 'I…um. We're nearly done. Just…just a little more, 'kay?'

I nod, and pretend not to notice that you're breathing hard and your face is flushed. Especially because you're running the towelette along my jaw and neck and I can't even begin to hide the fact that this is turning me on. It's hard enough not to moan, when your eyes are fixed on my lips like that and you're bringing the towelette up to gently dap at them. The taste of soap is horrible but I can feel your fingers through the thin fibers, brushing against my lips and making them tingle.

'You have really nice skin.' You say, pulling back at last. I resist the urge to groan at the loss of contact. 'Well. You could do with some serious moisturizing, but considering I'm assuming you only wash it with water-'

'And soap.' I cut in, grinning bashfully at the face you pull.

'And…good god, soap. Considering that, you have really nice skin. Here.' Now you reach into your bag and hand me a bottle. 'Twice a day, morning and night. And an extra time after every practice, do you have any idea how much football dries out your skin? Not to even mention the damage you must do to it on the ice-rink.'

'Neither of those are a problem any more.' You look a little embarrassed there, like you'd forgotten. 'Okay, okay! I get the idea. Dry skin, moisturizer.'

'Twice a day, and-'

'Extra after practice. Got it.' I sigh, 'That is, if I ever get back on the team.' You smile at me awkwardly, nod, and we both stand up in unison. 'Um, I'd better get back before the next class.'

'Yeah.'

'Uh, Kurt?' You turn your head to look over your shoulder. 'Thanks.'

I ignore the flutter in my stomach as your face breaks out into a smile. 'No problem, David. Think of it as recompense for staying with Glee club.'

Well, if that's the kind of reward I get, I'm never quitting Glee, I think as I try to make my heart stop beating like I've downed ten Red Bulls.

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

The good news comes in the form of Finn bearing slushies. For a moment, I think we're about to be drowned in ice, but he's grinning like a maniac, so either something good has happened or he's been at the Vitamin D again.

'Coach wants you guys to come back.' He announces, and I feel a grin break out on my face. There are cheers all around and Puck grabs me by the shoulder into a bro-hug.

'And the slushies?' I ask, as Mercedes grabs a few and passes them around.

'My welcome back gift for the club.'

'Thanks, Finn. They're delicious.' Rachel pipes up, talking a sip through the straw, and you glance at me with raised eyebrows. I try not to laugh.

'And loaded with empty calories.' You cut in, passing me a slushie. 'You know why they call them slushies, don't you? Because your butt looks like one if you have too many of them.' Don't think I don't see you glance down there, Kurt Hummel. For a second I think you're going to pinch my ass before I realize I'm being stupid.

There's laughing and cheering and I take a gulp of my slushie, glad that for once it's in a cup rather than on my face.

'I am sorry to report that we've been remiss about completing out assignment this week.' Artie admits, ashamedly.

'Yeah, none of us could find a good groove for Bust A Move.' Mercedes says with a grin and a shrug.

'And I personally feel like a failure.' Artie finishes, and we all laugh again, including Schue. He doesn't look disappointed in us at all. Instead, he smiles and looks sympathetic.

'That's okay, guys. Sometimes things don't work out.' He tells us, and somehow I think this is supposed to be the lesson of the week.

'Sorry about the thing about the wedding song, too.' Finn says, and Schue looks a little confused. 'Coach was kind of yelling about it.'

'Oh, right. Well, as I said, sometimes things don't work out – sometimes you just can't make two songs go together.' He suddenly grips his head and groans 'Brainfreeze! I can't imagine getting hit in the kisser with one of these.'

'You've never been hit with a slushie before, Mr. Schue?' Artie asks, and there's a simultaneous light bulb over the Glee Club's heads. We move forward together.

Schue realizes what we're thinking and gives a laugh. 'Alright guys, we're a team, bring it on, give it your best shot!'

Thirteen slushies hit him in the face. (Well, twelve. Rachel's misses horrendously.)

He's covered in purple slush, but laughing and holding his cup out. We laugh in unison and cheer whilst Mr. Schue yells, 'Alright! From the top!'

We give him some time to clean off as we practice runs, and Puck turns to ask Finn what he was talking about with the wedding songs.

'Well, you know there was that rumor about Coach Tanaka and Miss Pillsbury getting married? Apparently it's true.' Finn says, drinking one of the remaining slushies that weren't thrown in Schue's face. 'And Tanaka-san wanted The Thong Song as their wedding song, but Miss Pillsbury wanted some other song, and they asked Mr. Schue to mash them up or something-'

'Riveting story.' Santana says, sarcastically, but Finn ignores her.

'But he couldn't do it.'

'I guess we're not the only ones who failed our mash up assignments this week, then.' Mercedes says and we all murmur in agreement.

Then someone changes the subject to some other rumor, and I zone out. Rachel starts complaining that we're not warming up, so starts belting out runs and I walk over to where you're sitting.

'Do you think so too?' I ask you, and I can't look directly at you, so I stare at your hands.

'Think what?' You're looking for something in your – is that a woman's handbag? – but I can see you turning your head towards me out of the corner of my eye. I keep my own head down.

'That two things as different as that can't go together?' I'm not talking about the songs any more. But you know that, right? I'm talking about us. 'I mean, Finn was saying about that mash up thing Schue was trying to do.'

'No.' you say, and I let myself look up at you. 'I mean, Schue was never going to be able to mash those two songs up, but that's because the Thong Song is stupid and anyone who wants that as their wedding song will be alone forever. But sometimes difference is good. Different things can complement each other, you know?'

I nod slowly, and try to ignore the itching in my eyes. You smile, and continue, 'I mean, look at what I've got on.' Then you motion down to your outfit, and I nod, pretending to understand your point. You're wearing a shocking array of colors today. I think that's what you're referring to, anyway.

'Sometimes contrast is good. Too much of the same thing gets boring after a while, don't you think?'

I don't know. I mean, really, I'm the kind of guy that has the same shirt in five different colors. And most of those colors are almost identical shades of blue. Besides Glee, there's nothing outstanding about my life: I go to school, I go to practice, I come home, I watch TV with my dad, I sleep. I'm just an ordinary teenager. I'm just…a whole lot of the same thing.

But I don't think that's what you meant.

'I've never met anyone as different to me as you, Kurt.' I mumble, and you raise an eyebrow at me.

'Exactly.' You say, and suddenly your eyes are averted. 'And we get along. So there you go.'

'Thanks, Kurt.'

'So you needn't worry about fighting between Glee and football. I mean, Tanaka-san already said that you can be in both, right? So stop worrying!' You look happy, carefree. I groan internally.

I kind of get the feeling we're both missing something here. So I smile back, compliment you on your outfit and change the subject swiftly until Mr. Schue comes back.

And maybe you're right. Well, I manage to balance Glee and football semi-successfully and you have your multicolored clothing. And if we both seem to get slushied for it, so what? Bring it on.

It's open season.

~ Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo... ~