The first dinner is always the hardest.
There were a few reasons for that. Normally, you'd expect the "I'm new, I don't know anyone here, where will I sit?" nerves to be the major influence… and it was still true for Hunter. But, they only exacerbated his basal paranoia – food just made him on edge, and he really couldn't afford to take chances any longer… meaning he'd be receiving what was basically a plate of cardboard. Gluten-free, allergen-friendly, and boiled to the point of losing taste.
So it was another giant poster taped to his head. Five hours and he was already the new kid that liked washing his hands and marching in time. Now he'd be the new kid with the funny eating habits too.
The unfamiliarity was terrifying. He could deal with change, but Hunter was a creature of routine. Back at his old school, he'd once (admittedly on a bet) made it through the week without looking at a clock even once – including his alarm. A little crazy, perhaps… but he'd done it. He was just so fixed.
And here… Well, he'd slip into the routine easily enough. But he didn't know it yet. He didn't know if food came at the same time every day… and what time it would come. He didn't know where he could sit, if anyone would accept him there, if he was intruding… Whether they did the dishes, whether there was a roster… Whether every night they looked at a menu and just wished for things and a tiny house-elf would bring it out on a large silver platter…
Those were his increasingly-ridiculous thoughts as he slipped into the large dining hall (he'd sent Sebastian ahead to avoid the awkward, I'm-sitting-with-my-roommate-because-I-don't-know-anybody-else thing, and followed the herd, figuring they'd be aiming in the direction of food) and hovered somewhere in the back, avoiding eye contact. The last thing he was expecting as he was called up to the kitchen that night, was for a familiar looking chocolate-eyed, brunetted guy to sidle up behind him, smiling.
"Uh… It's Nick, right?"
The brunette's smile increased. "Yep, that's right!" He held out a hand – but just as quickly took it away, trying to shrug it off as some bizarre form of stretch. "Resident Coeliac at your service. What are you in for?"
"You don't want to shake my hand?" Hunter asked, eyes crinkling.
"Seb, uh… He mentioned you, uh… had a thing with hands, I guess," Nick said, a blush appearing on his cheeks (wow, word spreads fast here), "and we're about to eat so I don't want to distract you from food… It's actually not half-bad here."
"That's reassuring," he said with only a trace of sarcasm, glancing at the mess of rice and vegetables as it was slapped on his plate… though, to be honest, it actually managed to smell somewhat appetising. "What is this?"
Nick snorted. "Better than congee." He leant over, picking up a couple of sets of cutlery and looking down at Hunter's plate. "You vegetarian too?"
He shook his head. "I'll eat meat occasionally, but…" He shrugged. He didn't have to explain everything. "I need to make sure it's cooked perfectly, and I'm funny with things like pork and chicken. It's easier this way."
To his credit, Nick nodded. "Fair enough. I wouldn't survive without meat, unfortunately – my iron's tanked… Where are you sitting?"
He looked around at the dining hall. "I suppose you're going to tell me to beware the plastics?"
Nick snorted. "I can't believe you've seen that!"
(There's a lot you wouldn't know about me.)
"Seen what?" he asked, almost innocently.. Admitting you'd seen Mean Girls? Kinda social suicide… regardless of the circumstance.
But any further discussion – which would only lead to even more awkward questions about hospitals and Clare and dammit he did not need those thoughts again – was halted as the blond he was pretty sure was called Jeff appeared, spearing himself a piece of Nick's zucchini.
"Hey! I was gonna eat that!"
Jeff puckered his lips, cheek bulging like a squirrel where he must have pushed the food. "You want it back?"
"Seriously?"
"It'll taste sweeter – salivary amylase and all."
"Oh, is that the excuse you're giving?" Nick pushed him back. "Go get your own bloody food. Incorrigible child."
Hunter snorted at the pair. They had to be a couple… or they would be, soon. (If anything, the military helped develop your gaydar.) There was some inexplicable closeness to them, like they could read each other's skin or something equally ridiculous… (Don't think of Clare, no. You're here and she's gone. Don't think don't think don't think)
A hand waved in front of his eyes and Hunter blinked.
"Y'alright?" The blond smiled, the zucchini apparently long-swallowed. "It's really awkward the first night… You should come sit with us!"
"No, I… it's alright… I'll just…"
"You're not intruding!" Nick reassured him, awkwardly balancing his plate (he must be a dancer) on his arm as he gripped his upper arm with the other hand. "The Warblers tend to stick together. Seb said that you're a singer – you can come get to know us before you audition."
"You are auditioning, right?"
(… They seem alright… You can't ignore people forever. They want to get to know you.)
"Yeah, I do sing and dance a little…" he admitted, slowly, not entirely sure why he was being so cautious.
"Brilliant!" Jeff's grin somehow managed to increase, leaving Hunter astounded that his cheeks hadn't ripped apart yet. "Now, don't let tea time put you off. We're… well… you'll find out. But if you can stand this, you should be set for life!"
And he thought house-elves would be weird at Dalton.
Nick laughed. "You'll be fine. And, you'll judge us more than the inverse you're worrying over. Come on," he tugged again at his arm, pulling them towards the tables, "we don't bite."
"Unless you want us to, of course," Jeff added with a wink.
"I'm not – "
"even remotely bi-curious," the 'twins' joined in… and laughed.
"What Jeff means to say is," Nick began again, "we take a little getting used to… but just cos a chicken has wings, doesn't mean it can fly."
"Meaning we're simply awesome." Jeff this time plucked some of Hunter's capsicum.
Nick groaned. "Just… go get your dinner already!" He finally let go of Hunter's arm to slap the Australian's ass… and then leant in to kiss his cheek.
(Yep. Definitely a couple.)
"And we'll see you at the table."
Then Nick grabbed Hunter once more, pulling him over to the very centre, where Sebastian and a few others were sitting. But, he was all grins. Tonight was going to be… interesting.
Okay, the guys definitely deserved more credit than Hunter had thought possible for him to give… and Hunter had met a brigadier general. He wasn't entirely sure when or how he'd dropped the whole nervous-sore-thumb attitude, but he'd suddenly gone from being the dude with the third arm to being the next Misha Collins like a titration reaches its end point.
Perhaps it was simply sitting down and seeing Sebastian's face smiling back, rather than recoiling in horror. Perhaps it was being introduced to the four other guys at the table and having them pay no attention to his hair, his plate, his dinner medication. Perhaps it was his dreadful attempt at a conversation in Italian with Thad, or his debate over the nature of souls and the act of splitting them (for example, would people in the army be able to create horcruxes?) with David, or throwing all his and Nick's capsicum at Jeff (well, it wasn't like he could eat it anyway… and the blonde clearly wanted all he could get his hands on), or laughing at Sebastian's confusion as Trent whispered sweet nothings in his ear…
Or maybe it was, amidst the clinking of spoons on bowls and slurps of ice cream, drawing a ring of salt around their table as the lights began to flicker. But somehow, at some stage, he actually… might have started considering these guys his friends. They were complete nerds – like himself. They were all singers and dancers, all high-achieving, and fairly like-minded too. So… maybe it'd work out.
The thing that really cinched the deal, though, was when the discussion finally descended into music.
"So, what has the council got planned this year?" Nick asked with a cheeky smirk. "Because, you know, I'd love to steal any solos that you've got…"
"I haven't arranged anything yet…" Seb remarked, looking around the table. "I was thinking we'd have a bit of a jam session before we got anything set. What about you guys?"
"I've got some – "
"We're not doing Cold Chisel, Jeff!" David interrupted. "We are good, but not quite to that extent. Who would even solo?"
"We do hold auditions, mate," Jeff pouted. "Someone might have the power to carry it…"
"Hunter sings," Sebastian announced, pushing his arm. "Can you do rock?"
He blushed a little, looked down. (Why am I so shy all of a sudden?) "Uh… no. I can possibly push myself to carry your baritones, but I can't scream."
The guys around the table were looking at him.
"So, what do you sing?" The youngest of the boys asked, smiling under his brilliant green eyes. "Are you more pop, funk, jazz…?"
"Trent's our little jazz baby," Sebastian explained, ruffling the boy's head. "He does everything, and, dear God, he does it well. You are going to solo for us this year, right?"
Trent shook his head. "I'm a junior. I can wait a year."
"You'll be on the council next year!" Nick argued.
"Eh. I'll survive." He turned back to Hunter. "So… what do you sing?"
Hunter shrugged. He was pretty easy, really.
"Well, what's in your head?"
Easy question. "Whistle. Flo Rida."
There was a communal smile around the table, and Jeff began to whistle the intro. Somehow, almost like magic (they know each other and their voices well, I'll give them that) they all fell into the supporting harmony, all seven, including… Dylan?... who was beatboxing – deliberately leaving the main for him to take.
Well, how could he ignore something like that? Music was his life. (Almost literally.)
Hunter grinned and began to sing.
Can you blow my whistle, baby, whistle baby?
Let me know.
Girl, I'm gonna show you how to do it and we'll
Start real slow.
You just put your lips together
And you come real close.
Can you blow my whistle, baby, whistle, baby?
Here we go.
They only needed the intro. The black boy (it was David, right?) clapped him on the back. "Welcome to the Warblers!"
"Love the song!" Jeff said. "Even if it is about blow jobs…"
Hunter just rolled his eyes. "Old news."
The expression on Thad's face was absolutely priceless though. His mouth had initially dropped open in a mock gape of horror, before he tried (and failed) to contain a bemused laugh. "Blow jobs? Really?"
"Don't mind the innocent Muslim," Nick reached an arm around the boy. "He's come far, but he's got a long way yet to go."
"You're Muslim?" He turned to face Thad. "I… I thought you were Italian!"
"Maltese, actually," Thad admitted. "Well… it's complicated. Dad's half-Maltese, half-British and converted Muslim when he met my half-Paki, half-American mother. Got a problem?"
Trent was watching them, eyebrows crossing… he decided to redirect the conversation. "You know what I've had in my head the last couple of days? The Band Perry."
"Ooooh!" David looked up excitedly. "That would be… interesting to do."
"Can we?"
"Only if Trent solos for it," Nick spoke up. "Seriously, man. I'd kill to hear you sing that… if it's what I think it is!"
"Of course. What else?"
Hunter had a bad feeling about this… but he really didn't know what they were on about. It could be another song. Maybe. Just maybe. "Alright, Mr Jazz Baby. Show us what you're made of!"
Trent grinned, before dramatically centring himself, waving his arms and dropping them in front of him as he breathed. Then he opened his mouth, eyes looking down, his voice reaching out and caressing their cheeks, drawing them deep into his song.
Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother.
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colours.
And life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no,
Ain't even grey but she buries her baby.
Oh, God.
It was.
No.
Clare.
Chest infections.
Illness.
Shit.
Hunter forced himself to draw in a breath, to keep his face neutral, completely ignoring his stomach dropping away and collapsing inwards on itself and creating a black hole in his trunk sucking everything around it and crushing it to the first dimension.
The sharp knife of a short life, well
I've had just enough time.
No. He couldn't do this. Not now. Not without them knowing.
Trent's eyes were closed, and the others were all focused on him… some of them humming, some just listening. If he were quiet…
If I die young, lay me down in satin.
Lay me down on a bed of roses.
Sink me in a river at dawn.
Send me away with the words of a love song.
He stood up, grabbing his chair and lifting it as he backed away, softly, carefully, trying not to even disturb the air around him.
No one even looked up.
Then, when he was sure no one was looking… he about-turned and headed straight for the dormitory, shaking hand pressed to his head to siphon any emotion straight back inside.
"Hunt? You in here?" Sebastian whispered as he pushed open their bedroom door.
And there he finally was – not in the bathroom or any classrooms or the piano room (that the boy hadn't heard of the room or its power never entered any of the Warbler's minds) – curled over on top of his bed, a small animal clutched to his stomach.
He breathed in relief – at least he hadn't wandered into the dungeons or onto the roof. Seb crossed the room so gently a ninja would stand out… looking down at his roommate. There was the faint imprint on his pillow of wetness and salt, but he looked… almost peaceful, unburdened by military precision and whatever the hell had made him run away from the table, his mouth drooping a tiny amount and snuffling so softly, so rhythmically… He shivered, though, clutching the soft toy even tighter than before, and then it occurred to him how vulnerable this kid actually was – God knows why he'd been sent to room with Sebastian. But still, the senior did have a heart, regardless of how small it may have appeared in the past. He pushed the covers down, pulled them over the top of his… friend, before changing and climbing into bed himself. His last thought for the night, was of just how screwed up his roommate was, how they were going to learn to deal with it, what had triggered him… and how they could help him realise his own self-worth.
Then he was gone to chasing rabbits with Matt Bomer (or was it Blaine's brother?) for a head, screaming murder about tardiness.
Hey guys!
So once again I find myself updating while completely exhausted. I'm so sorry for the length of time it's taken to get this up. I was planning to do one more before I went to Queensland - but I worked 11 of 12 days, and my one day off was my work Chrissy party and then a family one so... yeah, no time. Then I went to Queensland for a week... and then went straight back into crazy work.
So, merry Christmas/happy holidays! And a very happy New Year! What did you all do?
I also got my licence since I last updated! Very exciting :-)
Now, I'm not overly happy with this, but I needed to pump something out. You'll get more soon, hopefully... and then I can really just get straight into it. But, I figure, we can all do with a little Warbler love (ignoring the terrible quality of writing), and it doesn't make sense to jump in without him meeting everyone and all that. So this is the first set of firsts - next chapter will be the second set of firsts, and then I should hopefully be fairly sweet. Hopefully.
Okay. I need to go to bed. I worked a sleepover last night, did a second shift today, and I start work at 7 am tomorrow.
Thank you so much to everyone that has read/reviewed/favourited/alerted! It really means the world to me. And shout-outs to Carbon 65, Different Child, and Eraman!
Like it? Hate it? Want my car to become bogged in jelly? Please let me know!
Keep smiling! :D
