"It's a Warbler tradition," Raj explained. "Every year somebody smuggles out the syllabus-"
"Even though we have three members in the class who could just tell us, but what's the fun in that?" Wes added.
"And we lay our plan for the appropriate day." Raj nodded smugly. "By now, we don't even get more than a slap on the wrist for skipping our classes that period."
Tony looked up from his laptop, where he was taking one last look at the new arrangements. "We're honor-bound not to use the same harmonies two years in a row."
"Or the same poems."
"But fortunately, she wrote a lot of them."
"With the same meters."
"It's spooky the way you all finish one another's thoughts," Kurt commented, dryly.
Blaine laughed and ran a finger along the base of Kurt's hairline. "We think of it as closely-bonded."
"Speaking of closely-bonded, Blaine, since this will be a public performance, we're going to request that you kindly do not grab or ogle any part of Kurt too blatantly, especially his ass." Kurt felt a surge of resentment at Wes' thoroughly-amused request and the quiet laughs from other Warblers.
Tony passed out the printouts of his arrangements. "You all know the tune, I'm sure." After a few slip-ups in the new harmonies, the Warblers went on the annual mission.
Somebody must have warned Ms. Barber. Even though it was her first year teaching American literature at Dalton, she was prepared and had a big Emily Dickinson face, with fangs, facing outwards on the door. "Gentlemen, I believe we are expected," David said with a dramatic flourish, and the Warblers invaded the classroom.
"Ah, yes," Ms. Barber said with a deeply blasé air. "I believe these young men have something to explain about ballad meter."
The singers launched into the musical arrangement of Dickinson's "Success is counted sweetest," starting in unison and then spreading into the major intervals until they were singing an octave apart.
"Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear, of victory
As he defeated, dying
On whose forbidden ear
The hidden strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear"
The students in the classroom first looked puzzled but then soon started laughing at the realization that the Emily Dickinson poem can be sung perfectly to the tune of "Gilligan's Island."
"In case you were thinking that this is a one-off," Blaine announced, "We have another for you."
"I never hear the word 'escape'
Without a quicker blood
A sudden expectation
A flying attitude
I never hear of prisons broad
By soldiers battered down
But I tug childish at my bars,-
Only to fail again!"
Ms Barber led a brief round of applause and added, "As you can see, ballad meter is another example of iambs, which also echoes normal patterns of speech, which is why it sounds so natural. Thank you, Warblers. Those of you who belong in this class, against my better judgment I'm going to tell you to stay, the rest of you, go back to infesting your regular classes like the locusts that you are." Her friendly grin made her actual enjoyment of the visit clear.
The Warblers agreed that it was far too late in the period to go back to their normally scheduled class and the only option was to grab some coffee until the next period began. Kurt was comparing their reception at Dalton to the response a similar stunt at McKinley would have gotten. Overt boredom or taunts from the kids and at best "at least they aren't breaking things" resignation from the teachers. Blaine nudged him. "What are you thinking about?"
"Dalton really is different from McKinley."
"Yeah, when I first got here, I couldn't believe the difference." After a few more minutes chatting, he and the rest got up to go to their next class. Blaine kissed Kurt lightly. "See you this afternoon." He nodded significantly, which reminded Kurt that the Warblers whose attitude towards food was "it's there, I'll eat it" were going to hang out with David elsewhere while the ones who actually had opinions were going to pick out a menu for his party. They had told him that for the party they'd just order a few pizzas or something, not mentioning that they'd be going all out with catering from the best Italian place within 50 miles. "Technically, it's still 'a few pizzas or something,'" Wes had noted.
David couldn't get to sleep right away that night. Lynne was coming in three days and the waiting was almost more than he could take, except that it was also so hot, in its own frustrating way. They talked every night and told each other exactly what they were going to do together once she was there and how it was going to feel.
He was so lucky, he thought to himself again. He was crazy in love with an incredibly beautiful and sweet girl, who actually happened to love him back. He'd been accepted to his first choice college. But what was still most amazing is that Lynne loved him back. He knew that she could have her pick of guys, just from the way he saw others look at her when they were out together and even more from the little things that happened to drop when they were talking. But she'd picked him.
He also loved it that his friends liked her, too. Well, Raj knew her through his sister, so that made sense, but the others didn't. He was fairly sure that at first they liked her for his sake, but now they liked her for her own. Well, who wouldn't, not when she was so friendly and lively and open?
Oddly enough, he thought that only Blaine would be the one who could really understand how he was feeling. It made him feel almost, well, maybe reverent wasn't too strong a word, to watch Blaine with Kurt. He identified each time Blaine drew Kurt closer, the way Blaine looked at Kurt as though his entire heart and mind were wrapped up in the other boy, and that his body was following his heart and mind, not the other way around. It was a long way from Blaine's earlier, cheerful friends-with-benefits relationships from before.
David was relieved that he'd gotten to like Kurt. He wasn't sure about him at first—in fact, Kurt mostly reminded him of one of those miniature poodles, all grooming and a high-pitched voice that occasionally yapped. On his second day, David had offered to get him a Dalton blazer so that he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb, but Kurt had looked at him strangely and turned him down, saying that he didn't want one, thanks, that he much preferred wearing his own clothing. It seemed such a cocky, stand-offish, and simultaneously look-at-me thing that David was pretty ticked at him. The Dalton blazer was a privilege that a lot of kids would want, and Kurt was acting like he was too good for it.
The turning point was about clothing, too, whatever that might mean, When Blaine had said that he had to insist that Kurt accept the designer clothes that Blaine had picked out for him, that Kurt was genuinely reluctant to take them, David started to feel some respect for him then, and even more when that Neandertal showed up. Kurt had been scared but had shown some real dignity there. He had the same dignity when Wes had been a bit thoughtless about introducing him; he'd not demanded any attention or apologies but he had shown some pride.
David had also started to enjoy his sardonic sense of humor, the dry observations, and appreciated Kurt's genuine love of music and singing. His singing was even starting to drop the mannerisms and become even more real and open and sincere, and David thoroughly enjoyed listening to him. It was a relief to be able to like Kurt, when Blaine was so crazy about him. David wondered if the Warblers felt the same kind of relief that Lynne was so likeable, though the situation wasn't the same since they didn't have to spend time with her nearly every day and she was incapable of rubbing anybody the wrong way. Well, sometimes David did go on a bit when talking about her, but that was different. She'd be there in three days, just three more days. David turned over again and this time, did drift off to sleep.
For Blaine, waking up around 03:00 used to open the door to dark thoughts. Even minor problems seemed to grow large and bad and anything major became tremendous weights with the power to crush him. He and Marcus would never be close again, his parents' indifference meant that if he ever ceased to be a credit to them, they would withdraw entirely, and while academically he was outstanding at Dalton, he'd be outclassed in college and then the real world. While part of him knew that 3:00 am was simply a bad time for the human metabolism cycles, somehow that knowledge never seemed to drive the thoughts away. Instead, they would engulf him and whisper that during the day, he was seeing through a filter of optimism and self-assurance because he couldn't handle reality.
But now, all he had to do was pay attention to his senses. His Kurt's smooth skin and firm limbs against him, the solidity of Kurt's head pillowed on his chest combined with the impossible softness of his hair, the soft sound of his breathing, and, in the dim light that penetrated from the window and the cracks around the door, the sight of Kurt's face. With his hair ruffled from the combination of Blaine's caresses and sleep, his eyes closed and without their sharpness, and his lips slightly parted, Kurt looked like some creature of extraordinary purity and vulnerability, come to rest in his arms and keep the dark thoughts at bay.
Blaine bent his head to very lightly kiss the top of Kurt's hair and delicately stroked his shoulder with just his thumb. Sometimes Kurt was awake, too, when he woke up like this, in which case Blaine never hesitated to pull him closer and build up to full possession, emptying and losing himself in Kurt, but if he was sleeping soundly, it was almost as good to hold him and enjoy the awareness of every point where their bodies touched, the little, restful sounds of his breathing, and the smell of his hair.
Knowing that the time Kurt would spend with him was limited but that time was guaranteed was a solid comfort. Nobody could simply step in and say that they'd be split up right then, and that there was no appeal. Not like it had been with Marcus, where their parents had decided to separate the brothers and take one each. He felt his hand tighten on Kurt's shoulder and he immediately loosened it. For his parents, they were assets to be divided equally, like a bank account. For the brothers, the other's presence and love had been a given, until it wasn't.
Maybe he shouldn't even think about it, should accept that Kurt would leave on the given day, but Blaine couldn't help thinking that perhaps it would be possible to keep Kurt at Dalton. He was safe from bullying, would be academically challenged but not overwhelmed, and as somebody without assets or connections in important places, having Dalton's name on his transcript would help him get into one of the right colleges with a scholarship, and later the Dalton network would help as well. Of course, Blaine meant to watch over Kurt as long as he needed it, and was thinking of ways to introduce Kurt to his parents and their friends as a potential asset to invest in with summer jobs or even a scholarship, but if Kurt were a Dalton alumnus, that would be even easier.
Right now, Kurt didn't have enough of a track record to merit outsider attention. Sure, his public school grades and extracurriculars were excellent, but there were thousands of kids like that. Blaine would have to fund Kurt's next year at Dalton himself, use his own considerable powers of persuasion to get Kurt a scholarship, or likely both. He was fairly certain that Kurt might be touchy about accepting help. But there had to be something he could do. He wanted his Kurt to have the benefits he deserved and he himself wanted Kurt around longer. If Kurt weren't so proud, it would be the easiest transaction in the world—stay with me and I'll pay for Dalton for you—but then if Kurt weren't so proud, he wouldn't be Kurt.
Blaine brushed his lips again over Kurt's soft hair. Ever since he and Marcus had been separated, he'd been determined to make sure that he would never again, under any circumstances, lose what he had his heart set on. He'd worked on developing persuasive charm, on learning where to find and exploit weak spots, to assess situations immediately, and on understanding how alliances and even enmity work. If there was a way to keep Kurt at Dalton, he'd find it. He wouldn't let himself think about keeping Kurt with him, but if a successful plan could allow that, so much the better.
Sue woke up that morning and seeing that Will was still asleep, poked him in the chest. "Wake up. I want to talk about Glee."
"Whaa?" Will was disgustingly slow to wake up and be alert. While Sue Sylvester could be ready for action in 2.3 seconds, down from 4.5, he took actual minutes to come fully to his senses. Even after she'd pointed out exactly how many times she could have started dismembering him, all he said was that with luck, she wouldn't, and then started showing her exactly why she'd miss him if she did.
"I want to talk about Glee," she repeated, patiently. She might not have sounded patient, necessarily, but since she wasn't actually being verbally or physically violent, it counted. "Puck suggested a rematch."
That got Will sitting bolt upright. "That's crazy!"
"That's what I thought at first but then I thought maybe it's worth considering."
"And if we lose, then we have two students in that, that situation."
"Yes, William, I can count." She pulled her legs up to her chest. "It wouldn't have to be just a singing competition. We are better dancers, especially now that I'm teaching them award-quality routines. If we can set up the rules to benefit us, with more than half the points on dancing and presentation, and Porcelain will give us whatever inside intelligence he can, the odds will be on our side."
"Sue...I know our kids. If the stakes are Kurt, plus potentially losing somebody else..."
"Yes, I know, they might freeze."
"I don't think Kurt would agree, in any case. For somebody who can be even more self-centered than the average teenager around the little things, in the big things, he tends to think of himself last."
She hated it when Will thought he had a point. "He wouldn't have to agree, Will."
"Suppose that we lose. Then he'd have to know that somebody else is a Trophy because of him."
Sue also hated it when Will actually had a point and even more when she had a point that went along with his. It felt as though part of her brain was a traitor and actually wanted hair gel and curls. "Dalton might not agree anyway, I reluctantly admit. We need to get Porcelain here for a debriefing session. I'll conduct the interrogation for usable intelligence."
Will actually groaned. "Sue, can't you just say that we should bring him for a visit and talk?"
"Not at all, William, not at all." She got up. "Now get in the shower with me, strategy planning always makes me horny. That's why I never joined any Presidential administration. Can you imagine feeling the urge and being around the Joint Chiefs of Staff or the Cabinet?"
Will had to admit that he couldn't.
AN:
The Gilligan's Island theme also works for "Amazing Grace." I learned this in a Galway, Ireland bar. At a wake. Yes, the guy we were mourning would have loved it both when we sang the original and the variation.
Hamza plays a role next chapter—this chapter veered slightly from where I planned it.