After lunch, Blaine drove Kurt back to Lima to pick up his things. Inside the familiar home, Kurt drew a deep breath. Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it really still was there, but each time he walked in, it seemed as though something of his father's presence lingered, that perhaps in the photographs of the two of them, Burt was somehow still looking at him lovingly, or the walls themselves had absorbed something of the essence of each hug, each awkward caring word. He had never been so glad that he hadn't yet been able to sell the house in the depressed market—being here renewed him.
With Blaine's assistance, the packing went quickly. He carried his clothing to the bed where Blaine efficiently stowed it in the big suitcase. Even though his wardrobe was much smaller now, he nonetheless blinked in surprise as he saw how much room there was left and Blaine laughed. "I learned to pack from my mom. When she goes shopping in New York, I think her suitcase actually breaks the laws of physics." He looked around the room. "Anything else that you'll need now? We can always come back for more if you forget anything."
Kurt hesitated. He hadn't planned to bring any photos with him. He knew it was irrational but a picture of Burt in Blaine's room would be just...wrong. He suddenly realized what would be exactly right and said, "Just a moment." He went into Burt's bedroom and took one of the oversized flannel shirts from the closet and folded it. Returning, he tucked it into the suitcase, saying idly, "In case the dorm gets cold."
"If there's nothing else, then, we'll head back. There's a rehearsal at four and you'll get to meet the rest of the Warblers. And I think we'll have some time to ourselves before then," he added in an insinuating whisper, putting his hand on Kurt's throat and stroking down the side with his thumb, and then stepping closer to hold Kurt against him. "God, sometimes I still can't believe how hot you are, even more than the first time I saw you." His mouth traced where he had caressed Kurt's throat, slowly nuzzling to the collarbone. His voice was thickened as he raised his head and said, "We definitely need to go back now."
Rachel had asked her history teacher for permission to skip class, since it was the last in the day. "While I understand the importance of maintaining a perfect attendance record, aside from authorized absences and legitimate illnesses, and of course I mean no disrespect to you, I have to consider the others in the former Glee Club and provide for their emotional needs as not all of them have the depth of resilience and personal fortitude that I possess." She had nodded wearily and excused Rachel.
Rachel hadn't specified exactly why she was skipping because she suspected that if she had explained in more depth that she wanted to make cookies, the teacher might not have understood the importance of gestures that provide nourishment in the form of sugars, starches, and fats, which provide certain biochemical reactions in the body and are also a cultural sign of caring and providing sustenance before a physical or emotional ordeal.
Keeping up the ideal conversation in her head, in which the teacher congratulated her on her acumen and also asked for her recipe as Rachel was certain to have chosen only the most perfect kind of cookie, which reflected her own personal successful pursuit of nothing short of excellence helped keep everything else at bay.
As she added the organic sugar to the mix in the blender, she delivered a mental lecture to the world on the importance of using ethically sourced ingredients and another on appropriate care for the environment as she waited for the exact second that the oven was ready. But when the doorbell rang and Finn came in, silently enveloping her in a hug, that moment of emotional relief temporarily stilled her inner voice enough to let all the fears and misery in.
Finn must have been reading her mind. "It's not your fault, Rachel. It's mine. I voted to keep in the competition and if I hadn't stumbled like an idiot..."
"They probably would have won anyway. We were in emotional chaos," she sniffled.
"What is this RIDICULOUS scene here?"
"Coach Sylvester, what are you doing here?" Rachel had not expected to see Sue, of all people, even though she'd heard that Sue had broken Mr. Schuester's nose.
"I invited myself and then told William, since I knew that his hair gel has probably penetrated through his skull and smothered his brain. Since he said 'Thank you,' which he and the entire world should do more frequently, I also appointed myself the new Glee Club Commander. Sorry, Clueless, I used words with more than one syllable that don't appear in The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which I assume is the peak of your reading skill. It means that I put myself in charge of Glee Club." Sue waved her hand dismissively. "I know it doesn't exist any more but I consider that I am fully capable of raising the dead if I feel like it."
"Your previous attempts to take over the Glee Club-" Rachel was too flustered to respond to the insult to Finn's intelligence, let alone Sue's categorizing Glee as dead.
"Were mere rehearsals for the main event," Sue rode over Rachel's attempted protest. "Now, you really need me." She pulled out a chair and sat down. "Will taught you, in his own pointless and pathetic way, how to care for one another, how to express your love of music and singing, how music brings people of all backgrounds together, all that useless blather. I'm going to teach you how to be ready to fight." She bit into a cookie. "Hmmm. Satisfactory. Barely." If Rachel hadn't realized the dramatic weakness of flouncing out of her own house, she would have done it immediately but instead pointedly ignored Sue.
Mr. Schuester, Mercedes, and Quinn were the next to arrive, followed in a moment by Puck, Artie, Tina, Mike, and Sam. Santana and Brittany were the last, entering with joined pinkies. Sue looked at Will. "I'm busy eating cookies and trying to imagine the better world in which your hair doesn't remind me of toxic waste, so you can go ahead."
"Guys, first of all, I didn't take the responsibility that I should have. I left the decision last night up to you because I was was too scared to be the one to choose to break up Glee. What I didn't see then is that Glee isn't about being a school club or about entering competitions. It's about music and making music together." Rachel saw that everybody was nodding, except for Sue, who emitted a loud and very deliberate snore. "But we also need to keep challenging ourselves. That's why Sue is going to be sharing her time with us, because there's nobody in the world better at challenging people than Sue." Rachel could see the point of that, but she was good at challenging people as well, so was still indignant. She tried to pass the plate of cookies past Sue, but Sue simply grabbed it.
"By which Will really means, nobody else can help purge you of the stink of mediocrity. I once taught a group of Cub Scouts everything they needed to know for a successful amphibious landing and invasion of a hostile city of up to 3 million inhabitants and the only reason I didn't get them up to 5 million is that parents these days are too damn nosy and then too damn fussy when they find out what's going on."
Mercedes interrupted. "But that's all about us. What are we going to do to help Kurt?"
That was a perfect cue to turn attention away from Sue. "I talked to my dads and they said that they'd look for any legal loopholes, though they don't know of any successful cases resembling Kurt's."
"I was thinking we'd do this later, but I thought we'd make a video to send him, each of us saying what we respect or like most about him." Rachel had to admit that Mr. Shuester's idea was a good one.
Santana stretched. "That's easy. His manicures. I'm going to have to pay to get a decent one."
"You didn't mention that last night when you were crying and I was giving you Mr. Binkie to snuggle!" Rachel's belief that she was a little bit psychic was confirmed, since as much as she disliked Santana, the girl's comment hadn't rung true at all and Brittany's confused response made it clear that she was right. She wasn't able to share this with Finn as she'd have wished, since the group's members were quietly chatting among themselves about what they'd say or sing to Kurt. For the first time, it seemed realistic to her that they might all survive this.
Traffic had been so heavy, due to an accident on the highway, that Blaine and Kurt arrived with only fifteen minutes to spare before the rehearsal. Kurt even found moments to enjoy during the drive. They shared almost every favorite song in common and Blaine was magnificent to sing with. He was a performer to the core and, when he saw some commuters in other cars pointing or staring at a moment when traffic was at a pure standstill, let down the roof of the car and stood up, singing even more loudly, grinning an invitation at Kurt to do the same. After a very brief hesitation, Kurt followed Blaine's lead, and even followed his cue in bowing happily to both the commuters who were applauding and laughing as well as those who were looking unamused.
But when the traffic started up again and Blaine concentrated on driving, Kurt leaned against the door. Was he betraying or preserving himself by allowing moments of enjoyment and even letting in a brief sense of camaraderie with Blaine? Burt had never wanted him to compromise himself but then, he also wouldn't have advised Kurt to make his situation worse for himself. Blaine changed the music to a series of Katy Parry songs, turning to look and smile at Kurt at nearly every line. This was still playing when they pulled into the parking lot outside the dorm. "We'll unload your things then go to the common room in Davis Hall. Most of the Warblers actually live there, we try to coordinate that as much as we can."
The common room looked like something out of an English period movie. Wood and rich-colored paint and the various students sitting in the chairs chatting. Blaine re-introduced Kurt to the Warblers, this time introducing each member by name.
Wes smiled warmly at him after the introductions were over. "Kurt, we have a tradition that all new Warblers and honorary Warblers have to perform a feat of musicality. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to pick out a song that is not by Katy Perry." He paused for the laugh to finish. "To pick out a song that is not by Katy Perry and sing it for us in three different styles. If it gives you inspiration, Blaine there sang 'Don't Cha' as a Sondheim song, as a jazz improv, and as hip hop. To the rest of you, I apologize for bringing up the memory of that last one." The rest of the Warblers laughed and Blaine groaned. "I was just experimenting with broadening my repertoire," he protested, but shaking his head good-naturedly.
Wes continued, "After warmups, it's your turn."
The pianist led the group through vocal exercises, very familiar to Kurt from McKinley. As the range got higher, the basses dropped out, then the baritones, and finally only one tenor and Kurt were left. The tenor, Mark, dropped to the lower octave but kept going, and laughing, the tenor gave up at the B flat below tenor high C, and joined the rest in applause as Kurt nailed the high C.
"Okay, Kurt, show us what else you've got."
Kurt didn't want to pick anything too personal. These moments were light enough, but he wasn't going to open anything up. His choice, "Brown eyes" by Lady Gaga, as a power ballad, a lullaby, and a Philip Glass soundtrack song got appreciative chuckles and applause. He didn't feel anybody judging him for the choice of music, didn't sense anybody thinking that his voice was freakish. Enjoy the applause, you earned it, he thought, and now you know that singing won't desert you, even here.
AN: Thanks again for all the kind reviews. As you can see, I've tried to make this chapter longer.
Happy New Year!