Yes, I'm updating twice in two days. I'm probably as surprised as you are.

Rating: T but there's probably swearing.

Warnings: Uh, the swearing *shrugs*

Disclaimer: If I owned Fox, Glee would probably just be a giant orgy and Schue would have been fired a long time ago.

Notes: I can never say enough how amazing you guys are. Especially my anons, who I can't reply to - your reviews are amazing and thank you so much for taking the time to leave them!

Ballad

The funny thing about being in Glee Club is that we just can't seem to have a normal week. Almost as soon as the Wheelchair Project is over, Mr. Schue comes up with another bright idea to make my life as awkward as humanly possible.

Apparently my dear friend Rachel has been writing to the Show Choir board, she brags, as Mr. Schue informs us that this year, we have to include a ballad in our set list.

I don't know what a ballad is. Okay, I know enough to know that Brittany's wrong; it's not a male duck. At least I'm not the dumbest person here.

'A ballad is a love song.' Your voice breezes from the other side of the room, floaty and…lovestruck. I don't look at you, because I get the feeling your eyes are fixed on me.

'Sometimes, but they don't always express love.' He puts you down quickly. He's been a little bitter towards you since Rachel had her diva-moment last week; she refused to return for a few days when we really needed her to sing the solos. 'Ballads are stories set to music, which is why they're the perfect form of self-expression. Stories and music are how we express feelings that we can't get out any other way…' I try not to look over to you, really try. I don't like the sound of where this is going.

'So here's our assignment for the week: I'm going to pair you off and I want you to pick a ballad to sing to your partner. Look them right in the eye,' I finally dare to glance over at you and I meet your gaze, immediately feeling my face heat up. But I can't look away now, it'll look too suspicious, but you're staring at me! 'Find the emotion you want to express and make them feel it.'

'I pick Quinn.' Finn says, beside me, and I quickly descend into a panic. Who am I supposed to choose? I can't choose you, you're just my friend, but it's not like I can pick anyone else. I should probably go with Rachel but I really don't want to sing to her. Hell, I'd rather sing a love song to Lauren Zises. Though, actually, I pity anyone who tries to sing a love song to Lauren. I can't see her taking it well.

'Oh, no.' Mr. Schue interrupts my inner monologue. 'Too easy. Your partners will be chosen by fate.' I let out a sigh of relief. At least now I'll probably get Tina or something, and just sing a song about indifference.

Mr. Schue goes and puts all of our names in the hat. Puck goes first, getting Mercedes, then Artie gets Quinn, Santana gets Brittany and Tina gets Other Asian. (I'm not entirely sure if it Tina was just saying that or if Mr. Schue genuinely still doesn't know Mike's name, either way, Mike doesn't look happy.) Finn and I step up together and pull out the names.

I stare down at the piece of paper in my hand and see the word Rachel Berry written on it with her obnoxious gold star stuck next to it. (Did she make Mr. Schue put the star on?) But for some reason, instead of Rachel, the name that comes out of my mouth is 'Kurt.'

The others giggle and make comments as Finn glances at me in confusion: there's only two left, so obviously his piece of paper says Kurt. 'Guess I've got Rachel then.' He says, with a grin, but his eyes still survey me curiously.

I ignore Finn and look at you. Your face is lit up with joy and when you smile at me, I know I've done the right thing. I mean, if it was the fates deciding, no one can get suspicious, right?

I sit back down next to Finn and Quinn, who leans on his shoulder affectionately. 'Would you mind clarifying what kind of songs you want us to sing?' Artie raises a hand and asks.

Mr. Schue opens his mouth to answer, but Rachel interrupts him. 'Why don't you let Finn and I demonstrate? Brad – Endless Love in B flat please?' Finn stares between Rachel and his fuming girlfriend, shrugs, and walks up to the performing area, earning the glare-to-end-all-glares from Quinn.

'I really don't think that's an appropriate song.' She says icily, adjusting her headband and flicking a blond strand of hair to the side.

'Why? It's a great song and a perfect ballad.' Rachel says defensively, trying and failing to look innocent.

'I really like that song.' Finn admits, which gets him another glare. I face-palm, and hear a groan from one of the others at Finn's stupidity.

'Okay, for demonstrative purposes.' Schue says with a wary glance at Quinn, who folds her arms and huffs.

About ten seconds after the song starts, my phone buzzes.

"We could totally sing this song together" the text reads.

I glance over at you and grin, but as soon as I open a reply, another text comes through. "But screw you if you think you're taking the Diana Ross part from me." I stifle a laugh.

"your part is safe" I text back "i dont even know who diana ross is" It's a joke; I do know…I think. She's the one who sang I'm Coming Out, right? Maybe I should sing that song as my ballad.

From across the room, I see you clap your hand to your mouth in mock horror. "That's it – there is no way I can work with you now." I can almost hear the feigned haughtiness in your voice. "Seriously – this is going to be great" Oh, god you're so 's going to go so horribly wrong; I can tell, "I already have the perfect song picked out. Have any ideas yet?"

You glance over at me and I shake my head; you look a little crestfallen at that. We both slip our phones away and go back to watching the song. Rachel is giving Finn the I want to have your babies look and Finn's just naively playing along as per usual.

As the song ends, Finn comes to sit back down and Quinn turns away from him, glaring daggers.

'Yeah…something like that.' Mr. Schue says cautiously, and waves us away for the next lesson.

You catch up with me as I collect my stuff, looking kind of dejected. 'You're not bothered about having to perform with me, are you? I mean, if you don't want to, you can swap-' You say, not meeting my eye. I cut you off.

'No, it's not that.' It's not like I can tell you why I don't want to sing with you…to you.

'If it's about singing with a guy, don't worry, Brittany and Santana-'

'It's nothing!' I snap, cutting you off again. Your face drops and I feel a twist of guilt. 'Sorry, it's…don't worry about it.'

I feel so dumb now. I should have just sung to Rachel and let Finn embarrass himself with you. What am I supposed to do now, sing you a love song? This assignment is about expressing our feelings and I have absolutely no idea what my feelings towards you really are. And even if I did know, what song could possibly sum up the complicated tangle of my feelings?

I groan inwardly and wonder how my voice would sound singing Y.M.C.A

~ Briiiing ~

Of course, mine isn't the only song selection I need to worry about, apparently.

'David, I need your help finding a song that will make Finn fall madly in love with me.' Rachel, subtle as ever, seizes me by the arm and marches me down the hall.

'Rachel, they're having a baby.' Obviously I'm talking about Finn and Quinn. I mean, as far as Rachel is concerned, Finn's the dad. I'm assuming that Finn knows that he's not by now – half the school does – but I think they're still keeping it a secret, at least from Rachel, it seems.

'And Quinn is inevitably going to break his heart.' I don't have the heart to tell her otherwise. Obviously, if they've worked through the fact that she's pregnant with another guy's baby, they can work through anything.

I humor her anyway, 'So you want Finn to come crawling to you when she does?'

'Exactly! Now, help me pick a song.' I roll my eyes at her, muttering something about how I can't pick my own songs, when she drags me in the direction of the choir room.

'Now, I'm thinking something like Don't Cha by the Pussycat Dolls or Don't Marry Her by the Beautiful South.'

'Rachel, you're awful. I'm not helping you.' I pull my arm away from her and start walking faster.

'I'll help you with yours! You should sing I Will Always Love You to Kurt!' She shouts from behind me. I turn and shush her, then after a quick glance around, veer off to the side of the corridor where my locker is.

'That is the worst song ever.' I say into my locker as I throw books in and fish for my calculus textbook.

'My Heart Will Go On?' She suggests, beaming. I slam my locker shut.

'Please stop talking.' I try to walk away but she just won't leave me alone.

'Well, if you're not going to listen to my suggestions, you might as well help me out!' She fumes, still following me like a little lost puppy.

Ugh. 'Fine. Whatever. Please promise me you won't sing him a love song in front of his pregnant girlfriend.' We walk into the choir room, where she seems to have been aiming for all along. Obviously she wants to commandeer the whole room for her song-choosing process.

'So not I Will Always Love You?'

'No!' I snap, 'God, what is it with girls and that song? No, you can't sing him a love song, that would just be…' I sigh, 'Look, Rachel, the song's about your feelings. What do you feel about Finn…and Quinn, too.'

'I want Finn.'

Mental facepalm. 'Yeah, okay. Got that. And Quinn?'

'I'm jealous of her.' She says quietly, and she seems suddenly to be talking to herself. 'She's everything I'm not – she's popular, she's pretty and I'm…not her. That's it!' Her face lights up, 'I've got the perfect song to express how I feel! I'm going to sing I'm Not That Girl, from Wicked.'

…Why does everything seem to revolve around Wicked, lately?

'I don't really know that one.' I admit. I really have to get the soundtrack.

'Shall I sing it to you? I can do it off the bat, it's one of my back-up solos.' I don't even have time to begrudgingly agree before she starts barking orders at Brad (was he there the whole time?)

She does sound good singing it, I'll admit. It really suits her voice – I'll bet it's sung by the green witch, whatever her name was, the Wicked Witch of the West. There are a couple of lines that really stick out, too, but maybe that's because she waves her hands madly at me as if to emphasize them.

'Blithe smile, lithe limbs, she wins them; she wins him. Gold hair, with a gentle curl: that's the girl he chose, and heaven knows I'm not that girl.' Her reasons for choosing it (other than the obvious fact that Quinn is blond,) make sense; it does seem kind of perfect to sum up her feelings towards Finn and Quinn. I feel a twinge of sympathy for Rachel despite myself; she's got it bad.

'There's a girl I know; he loves her so…I'm not that girl.' She finishes, with a dramatic flair of the arms, a look of distant longing and teary eyes. I applaud softly, smiling at her as reassuringly as I can muster.

Right there and then I vow that if Quinn and Finn do break up, I'll help Rachel get Finn. In my head, it doesn't sound that difficult a task.

~ Briiiing ~

'Sing to me everything you feel.'

I'm still pretty sure they don't have a song to express everything I feel. Maybe I'll write one. I'll call it 'I think I'm falling for you but you're a guy and I really don't want to be gay so I can't let myself fall for you but oh my god you're so gorgeous and I want to kiss you all the time but shit, what would my father think and the whole school would kill me what do I do I'm so scared I just want to hide in my closet for ever and ever and not come out.'

…I just can't see it making the top-40 somehow.

'I…uh, I haven't picked a song yet.' That's a lie. I have picked a song; I've spent the last day trying to think of songs to sing to you. The funny thing is, when you've got a crush on someone, every love song feels like it's about them. So I've got to be careful I don't offend you by singing Fat Bottomed Girls or something.

To clarify, you're neither a girl nor the slightest bit fat. In fact, your backside is one of the most perfectly defined I've ever seen. But, uh, anyway. Yesterday, I sat on my bed flicking through my iPod for hours trying to find the perfect song, starting with A: Accidentally in Love? Totally about us, but too happy. Alejandro? I know you like the song, but hello, wrong message. All You Need is Love? Nah, I don't think I can pull off the Beatles. As Long As You're Mine? Oh, yeah, I downloaded the Wicked soundtrack last night too. Ass Like that? Um…no.

And so I continued for the rest of the damn evening until I finally got down to the end of the alphabet with a couple of scribbled suggestions.

Written down I had Behind Blue Eyes, Fix You, The Way You Look Tonight and a couple of Bublé songs. None of them seemed quite right, though.

And then I saw it, right near the end, and I couldn't believe I didn't think of it earlier.

'It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside…'

Your Song, by Elton John. It was perfect; the iconic love song, the most romantic song ever. Only, that itself was the problem. The song would be honest, it would tell Kurt exactly what I feel. I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to lay it out and accept…accept whatever this is. I don't want to change things, I don't want to have to spend every day with the knowledge that I'm not normal, I don't want to be teased and bullied like you are. I don't want to be different. I want to be the same guy I've always been, why should I change things?

Of course, I know why. I'm not stupid. I know I can't keep this up forever. I want to be with you. Being friends is great, but I'm all too aware that my feelings for you extend far further than that. Friends don't want to kiss their friends, or dream sexual dreams about them, or ache to touch them every time they're near.

'Dave?' You break my thought bubble, 'Did you come up with something?'

'No, I…' I pull the sheet music out of my bag. 'I just changed my mind. There are some things I want to say…but I'm afraid to say them. That's what my song is about.' Your eyes go wide, hopeful. I wonder what you think I'm about to sing.

I hand you the sheet music and your expression stiffens, suddenly unreadable. You've tensed, and when you laugh softly, it's awkward and feigned. 'Thank god I've never missed a piano lesson.'

The opening to Iris by the Goo Goo dolls drifts in piano form, even sadder than usual.

'And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven than I've ever been and I don't want to go home right now.' I sing the lyrics out to the audience, but I think we both know who it's really about.

It's a morbid song, I know, but I couldn't think of a more perfect one to tell you how I feel. How I wish I could tell you how I feel. How I don't want to tell you because I don't want to admit it.

'And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything seems to be broken…I just want you to know who I am.'

The music judders and you skip a note, but I keep on going regardless.

I wish I could just say it, say that I have feelings for you, say that I want to hold you tight and kiss you and tell you that you're the most gorgeous, amazing guy I've ever met, how I want to stay with you forever and never let you go.

But for now, I'm too scared to tell you anything, except for how scared I really am.

When I finally stop, I walk back over to the piano and stare down at you. I realize suddenly why your playing had started going a little off at the end there: you're crying.

'Kurt?' I speak gently, laying my hand on your shoulder, but you jerk away. 'Are you alright?'

'You are so clueless.' You say, bitterly, and before I know it, you're storming out of the auditorium, your shoulders tense and your hands shaking violently. I stare at your retreating back, torn between following you and letting you be. Finally, I collapse onto the piano stool and lay my arms on the piano, ignoring the horrific sound it makes as I press ten keys at once.

I should have just stuck with Y.M.C.A.

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

I'm the first into Glee practice the next day, and as I sit down, I wonder for the thousandth time how to apologize to you. I thought about calling you last night, but then I realized that phone conversations were not the best form of communication. So I decided to approach you before Glee Club, and then at least we could spend the rest of the practice surrounded by friends and hopefully things wouldn't be too awkward.

The only problem is that I'm not sure what I should be apologizing for. All I know is that I sang a song, and you were so upset that you ran away and won't answer my texts.

You were right; I am clueless.

'Why'd you do it, man?' I jump with surprise as someone breaks my train of thought. It's Finn. 'Why'd you swap with me?'

Oh, great. As if I'm not worried enough already, Finn's decided to play Sherlock. Okay, lying time. Let's try to come up with something believable this time, shall we? 'I thought you might want to sing with Rachel.' I try, a little tentative.

'Why would I want that? I have Quinn.' I assume he thinks I don't know about the whole baby drama. It makes sense, I mean, it must be embarrassing enough that his girlfriend is pregnant with another guy's baby; me rubbing it in that everyone knows probably won't help.

'Yeah, but with the whole baby thing-' I aim for vagueness, hoping that he'll catch my drift and make everything less awkward.

'What, because she's pregnant? Why would I cheat on her because she's pregnant? What kind of guy do you think I am?' Oh, for fuck's sake. I stare him down, trying to convey that I know but he's being stubborn.

'No,' I grind out. 'I just meant, because of the whole baby daddy thing.'

'The what?' I roll my eyes as he tries to pretend he doesn't know what I'm talking about. Because, come on, I know he's dumb, but everyone knows, he can't be the only one…

Oh.

'You mean…shit, you don't know?' The words slip out before I even realize. That that's even worse, because now he knows there's something he doesn't know. This is the moment I realize I've stepped in it. Big time. Huge time. Mega-fucking-universal time.

'Don't know what?'

There's pretty much no recovering from this. Especially since, from the look on his face, he's (finally) figured it out already. I can practically see the light bulb appearing over his head. 'All that time…?' He asks, quietly, before the chair he's sitting in goes flying from under him.

'Finn!' I yell, but he's already storming towards the door, where Puck has just walked in. My body reacts automatically, jumping up and following him.

'I'm going to kill you!' He roars. His legs are longer than mine and damn if he's fast for his size, because he beats me to Puck. Then he beats Puck.

It takes me a while to drag him away from the Mohawked teen. Long enough that there's blood running down his face from a cut lip that's already swelling, and I know there's going to be a black eye on him tomorrow.

'You knew!' He hisses at me as I try and maintain a grip on his arms. 'All this time, you knew and you didn't tell me? Any of you!' He waves at the hall just outside, because a couple other Glee kids have rushed over by this point, also headed to Glee practice. Including Rachel, who looks confused as hell.

'What's going on?' She asks, clueless. Finn rounds on her, and we all move into the Choir Room, out of the hall.

'Did you know about this?' Finn demands, waving vaguely at Puck. Rachel stares at him in bewilderment and then glances at Puck.

'About what?' She asks, totally naïve.

'That I'm not the father!' Her eyes go wide, she immediately looks towards me and I know I'm in trouble for not telling her. I nod slowly, trying to communicate that I knew, but didn't tell her. But before she can yell at me, Quinn comes in, and Finn immediately turns to her.

'Is it true? I want to hear it from you.' She must be able to see Puck standing with his hands in his pockets, face bloodied. 'Is he the father?'

Quinn stares between Finn and Puck, her face frozen in fear. She starts to shake, and before our eyes, Queen-bitch Quinn dissolves into tears. She must have known it was coming, that Finn would eventually find out. We all stare at her as she sobs.

'Yes.' She chokes out, trying to move towards Finn, but he backs off. 'Puck is the father.'

Finn stares at her too. Then at the room around him, as if he doesn't know where to look. There are tears in his eyes too, tears of angry betrayal. Guilt hits me like a freight train. This is all my fault.

'So all of that stuff in the hot tub, you just made that up?' The betrayal in his voice is so painful it hurts to hear, even for me.

'And you were stupid enough to buy it!' Puck interjects, and I grab Finn as he makes for him again, holding him back until he stops trying to throw me off.

'I am so sorry.' Quinn whimpers, her shoulders hunching as her body shakes with sobs.

'Screw this.' Finn says, quietly, and then points an accusing finger at Quinn. He's shaking too, but with pent-up fury. 'I'm done with you! I've done with all of you!' He shouts, then turns on his feet, storming out, but not without sending a chair flying across the room in a furious kick.

Quinn watches him leave, and as Puck steps forward to comfort her, she pushes him away and runs out, heading in the opposite direction as Finn.

All eyes turn to me.

~ Briiiing! ~

I find Quinn sat in an alcove in a quiet part of the school, still crying, but silently, tears slinking down her face as she stares into the trophy cabinet opposite. I sit down next to her, feeling guiltier than ever.

'I'm so sorry, Quinn.' I say softly, 'I didn't know. I shouldn't have–'

'I'm not mad at you.' Quinn interrupts me. 'Rachel would have found out soon enough anyway, and we all know she'd blab to Finn in a heartbeat.' She smiles bitterly. 'Besides, all you did was what I wasn't brave enough to do: tell the truth.'

'Any girl in your position would have done the same, you know.' I say, perhaps not honestly, but well-intended at least.

'I have hurt so many people.' She whispers, half to herself. I hold out my hand and she squeezes it hard as another round of tears fall down her face. 'Thank you.' I pass her a packet of tissues, pulling one out. She lets me wipe one cheek and gives me an appreciative look. I know what this means; Quinn Fabray doesn't exactly let people in and somehow I doubt she'd let a guy wipe her tears away if she thought he had some ulterior motive. I wonder when she realized. I wonder if anyone else knows.

'You're not as much of a jerk as I thought you were, Karofsky.' She says, quietly, blinking at me with long eyelashes. 'I can see why he likes you.'

I don't have time to ask what that means because I hear footsteps and I look up to see Puck standing there. I back away slightly, but Quinn smiles and shakes her head, a silent goodbye. Puck does the opposite, a stout nod, and as I walk away, he sits down next to Quinn. I silently wish with all my being that I haven't screwed up Quinn's life forever.

When I get back into the choir room, Glee practice is over, but you're still there, waiting for me, it seems.

'Oh. Hey.' I say, quietly, already feeling blood rushing to my face. 'I guess Rachel's going to wait until tomorrow to kill me.'

'I believe she said that she intends to make you watch Evita until you beg her forgiveness.' You say, blasé, but with a hint of humor that doesn't match the grim look on your face.

'And you? How do I earn your forgiveness?' I try not to sound to desperate as I stare at you. You don't meet my eye.

'That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.' You say, in a tone that clearly ends that thread of conversation. I suddenly notice there's a bag in your hands, and you're fiddling with the handles nervously.

'What do you want to talk to me about?' There's a silence after I say it. You glance down at the bag, then up at me, and then somewhere in the corner of the room.

'You left your letterman at my house, Dave.' Your voice is slightly choked.

'Oh, right. Thanks.' You pass me the bag with the jacket in, folded neatly. Oh, thank god, it's just something small. With that expression, I thought I'd done something stupid again. I smile at you, but your face is still grim.

'Dave. We need to talk.'

'Talk about what?' You don't reply, just open your hand and hold it out.

For a second I don't get it, and then I see it, in your hands. A piece of paper, creased like it's been unscrunched from – oh.

The paper says Rachel Berry, written with a slightly bent gold star.

'I can explain.'

'Really?' To say you sound dubious is an understatement; you're staring at me with an intensity that I can't describe.

'Yeah, I…I didn't want to sing with Rachel because…um, because of our history, you know? Because…'

'You're doing it again.' I shoot you a confused look 'The tongue thing. You're lying. Just tell me the truth, Dave!' Your voice becomes hysterical, an even higher pitch than usual.

'I wanted to sing with you.' It slips out as a murmur, but I can tell by your reaction that you hear it. You stare at me in silence, waiting for me to continue. I can see your eyes surveying my every move, and I'm all too aware of my body as I give a resigning sigh.

'I wanted to sing with you.' I say again, a little louder, and looking you directly in the eyes.

'Why?' You ask after a brief pause. Your face gives away no trace of what you're feeling.

I laugh bitterly. 'Why do you think?' I spit out, and I can feel my fists clenching. I've been caught; I tried so hard to hide it but…you know now, and I'm more scared than ever.

'Dave, are you-'

I cut you off: 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Oh, that's mature.' You scoff. Your eyes are dark; you're angry.

I run my hand through my hair and give a low groan. 'Can't you just forget you found that piece of paper?'

'Oh, sure. And what about the song – Iris? Really, Dave? Did you think I wouldn't work it out? How dumb are you?' You sound pissed off now, but you're acting calmer than I do when I'm annoyed, that's for sure.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' I reply, trying to keep my own voice devoid of emotion. Instead, I sound strained and, well, guilty.

You go silent and stare at me, your expression utterly unreadable. Then, finally, you sigh and shake your head.

'Nothing. Never mind.' You say quietly, 'Did I ever tell you what song I decided to sing?'

'N-no. You didn't say.'

You stand up, and as you turn to me, your eyes are full of tears. 'I Honestly Love You.' You say, and walk out, leaving me alone again.