AN: So, I was sitting on my couch, after an unusually long day downtown, relaxing, thinking about various things... When an alert came in for this 'fic. It reminded me that I usually try to post a part every other day (as long as I'm running the current surplus, anyway), and forgot to do so earlier! That, and the fact that I just got a review I'm dying (dying!) over, has spurred me to fix my error.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must flail. :D

Noah Puckerman was having a bad day. Then again, any day that includes being locked in a porta-potty really doesn't have much competition in the "day I'll try to drink away and skip in my memoirs" (thank you for that, Rachel) department. He knew that going to the football team for new members wasn't the greatest idea (the fact that he couldn't think of anywhere else to really start recruiting was a little depressing in of itself), but he never really imagined that the guys he used to think of as friends would go quite this far.

Of course, Anderson and Strando were at the forefront of mocking his attempts to get the team to see things his way. Funny, though, as he thought of it (and he really didn't have much to do but think, apart from "enjoying" the smell emanating from underneath him): Anderson put up a good show of sneering and jeering about the Glee Club, but Puck had known the guy for years, ever since elementary school. In having an acquaintanceship that long, you get to just sense things about them, even if they were never particularly close to you. And Puck could just tell that Anderson's heart really wasn't in it. Which was weird, because the guy was the entire reason why the Glee Club was in the fix they were in. And the way Anderson flinched when Puck brought up Kurt... Puck himself had almost missed it, but there it was.

It just didn't compute. Anderson came out of the whole incident smelling like a rose (and not like, say, sewage). When news of Anderson's "trial" and Kurt's transfer got to his popular peers, they were ecstatic, high-fiving and back-slapping him for days. His dad's favorite puppet Figgins was back in charge. He'd won. Anderson had won, in every conceivable way.

So why didn't he seem happy about it?

Maybe those idiots Anderson called friends couldn't tell, but Puck liked to think that being in the Glee Club had brought out a little of his sensitive (yet still ultra-manly) side. He started actually paying attention to what other people were doing. And Anderson sure didn't act like someone who'd pulled the coup of his high school career. Hell, Puck would've noticed something amiss from the sharp downturn in slushie incidents alone. Anderson's laugh and jeering had been mostly replaced by a quiet, faraway look. Kurt hadn't reported any contact or odd incidents at that fancy school of his (which surprised them both). But what could he possibly be thinking about?

Puck sighed, leaning against the cool plastic wall. Whatever the answer, it looked like he had some time to figure it out. Was it weird that he was starting to get used to the smell?

"You have got to be kidding me." Kurt held the cage at arm's length as he and Dave left the council room. "I didn't know having a pet forced on you was part of the curriculum here."

Dave shrugged helplessly. "Don't let Wes hear you say that. He'll probably start lecturing you on how Jebediah Springfield the future horse manure billionaire started the practice in 1822 or whatever. It is kind of stupid, but he's big into the upholding of traditions thing. I can help you out if you want."

Kurt frowned a little. "I was going to ask you about that, actually... Not the help, but... Your friends seemed a lot different in there than they were when I first met them."

Dave sighed. "Yeah. Wes and David are actually cool guys, really. I've been friends with them since before I was ever in the Warblers. Wes was my upperclass mentor for my first year here. And David... well, after the fourth or fifth time we both turned when someone called our name, we sorta got to talking. But when it comes to Warbler business... they take it so damn seriously! Wes especially. It's the whole tradition thing again. No one wants to be the one to break the chain."

"It seems I don't have a place in that chain yet," was the quiet response.

"Yeah... I'm sorry about that, Kurt. They're really big on conformity here, and right now, you're kind of the outsider still." Dave's fingers caressed the lapels of his blazer. "Act as one, good of the many, uphold tradition and all that. That's sort of Dalton's identity, you know?"

"I get that. It's just such a big change from what I'm used to. I miss wearing what I want already." Kurt shook his head. "I want to try out for a solo at Sectionals, but I'm not so sure now. What do they want from me as a soloist?"

"Honestly? Fuck 'em." Kurt stopped short in surprise; Dave nearly collided with him as a result. "What? I've been telling you to stand strong and be yourself for, what, months now? I'd be a pretty huge hypocrite if I told you to go along with the crowd now, wouldn't I?"

"But... you seem to do it pretty well."

Dave laughed. "That's just because I have two council leaders as friends. They have to listen to me; they were the ones that dragged me into the Warblers in the first place."

"Ah, nepotism." Kurt smirked. "But I would've loved to have seen your audition. I can imagine you were probably kicking and screaming the entire time."

"Hell, yeah. But I owe 'em for that. No matter how good I am..."

"And you are. Very."

"Well, thanks. But either way, I love it. I love singing, being on stage. That's all that really matters." Dave paused, laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder to turn them towards each other. "Seriously. Like I said, fuck 'em. You just keep singing like you want to sing and suggesting the songs you want to suggest. If they won't take you or your talent seriously, that's their loss."

Kurt nodded as the two continued to walk the storied Dalton halls. "Yeah, but... Sometimes I just wonder if it'd be easier to go with the flow. Give in. Just... conform already."

"You didn't do that at McKinley. Why start now?"

"Actually, I did. For a good long while I did. Or at least I tried." Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment. "And you know what? It sucked."

Dave smiled. "There you go. Keep at it, and they might come around. It took me ages to convince Wes and David to consider the kinds of songs I like, but eventually they did it just to shut me up."

"Oh, so I have to be loud and annoying, then?"

"Hey, man, it works. Just go with it. And between you and me..." Dave's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Sometimes I like to give the whole tradition bullshit a middle finger in small ways."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I actually sometimes use my salad fork for my spaghetti." Kurt gasped in mock horror. "It's true! Oh, and I play Bejeweled on my phone during assemblies. And sometimes I go commando under the uniform..." Dave stopped dead. "Oh, shit. I actually said that out loud, didn't I? Holy fuck. Kurt, I..." He turned, but Kurt seemed to have vanished. Then he looked down. The junior Warbler was on the floor, on his knees, with his forehead resting against the cold tile. His entire body was trembling. "You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Nnnnnooooo... No, no..." Kurt replied in a very tense voice. "I'm not... I'm not laughing, Dave..." He coughed loudly and jumped to his feet with a prim look. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." With that, he practically ran down the hall and around the corner, leaving Pavarotti on the floor with a rather confused look for a small bird. Dave sighed as peals of Kurt's high pitched, hysterical laughter seemed to echo from every direction.

That night, Kurt found himself on a website he'd never in a million years imagined himself being interested in: ESPN. Specifically, the NHL section. In his mind, the text was still a mess of jargon, a mash of numbers, and a hodgepodge of Scandinavian and Russian names (similar to, say, Karofsky), but he could almost feel it pulling together, starting to make a little more sense. That was undoubtedly Dave's influence.

He was under no illusions about the likelihood that Dave was at that moment watching streaming Style Channel programs or anything like that, but their little "training sessions" were not only bearing fruit, they were actually fun. He loved the way Dave's eyes lit up whenever he talked about that Red Wings game his father took him to at age eight, or the miracle pass he made in the championship game of the league he was in during junior high. There was all the same joy and wonder from the first time he saw Dave perform.

As for his impact on Dave... Well, he was certainly an attentive listener, but Kurt wasn't quite sure how much of his lessons were getting through. So far, the few times he'd seen Dave dress in casual clothes, they were just the same t-shirts and awful flannel he usually wore. Perhaps the problem was his current selection. Then a shopping trip was certainly in order! He made himself a mental note to find a map of the local malls and start planning...

His head whipped up, startled by a sudden realization. For the first time he could remember, he hadn't thought of his friends or family back in Lima practically all day. Well, look at that, Kurt Hummel... You're making a life for yourself here. The thought was at once heartening and saddening. So what had he thought about? Classes, of course. But mostly something else.

Or rather, someONE else.

Okay... That is NOT what I particularly wanted to think about right now... Mostly because it was... complicated? After all, Dave was a bulwark of support during a tough time in his life. Was that enough for their friendship to become anything more? Was Dave's kindness somehow coloring his feelings and impressions of him and their relationship? Would it matter if it were? And was he asking all these questions of himself way too late?

Then there was what Dave thought of all this. As far as he could tell, Dave was just... Dave. Simple and honest Dave. That should make things easy to talk about, right? Except the time was never right, or they were having too much fun talking about something else, or someone interrupted, or...

Kurt sighed and rubbed his eyes. Dave would tell him at once if he wasn't interested (or God forbid, not attracted). He'd be kind and let him down easy, and they'd go on with their friendship as usual.

Except, of course, it would never be quite the same. Dave would always be worried about making the wrong impression, tiptoe through eggshells around him, which Kurt hated. Or worse, it would be Kurt who'd be that way. Awkwardness. Like I don't have enough of that in my life.

Maybe it would just be easier to not bring it up at all. After all, didn't all the relationship advisors say to let things develop naturally? And why risk a good thing now? Make the friendship stronger first, more able to resist any later... awkwardness, before trying to test it in such a serious way.

Kurt thought about it for a moment. The whole thing fit together, seemed to make perfect sense. Satisfied, he started typing out his message to Rachel about his upcoming Warbler audition, ignoring the vague, niggling thought in the back of his head demanding attention. There will be plenty of time for drama later. And there will be drama, I'm sure...

Kurt tapped his fingers against his leg, glancing over at Nick and Jeff, who were chatting amicably about some Crawford girls who'd stopped by the day before. Of course, practically the entire student body had either stopped to stare or surrounded them with friendly offers for aid. Kurt could only imagine the power that must have made those girls feel. He kind of envied that kind of power.

They sat on a bench outside the council room, awaiting their fates. Their solo auditions had gone well, as far as he was concerned. "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" went off without a hitch. But Nick and Jeff were both talented guys, not to mention veterans who knew the "judges" better, despite Dave's briefings. Stiff competition, to be sure. But there was nothing now to do but wait...

Dave was muttering darkly to himself as emerged from the council room. "Nick, Jeff, you're moving on," he snapped with clear irritation. Fortunately, the two Warblers didn't seem to notice it at all, leaping to their feet and high fiving. "Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you two? Kurt's sitting right there!"

Jeff flushed. "Oh. Sorry about that."

"No problem," Kurt replied in a chipper tone. "You two just go on. You deserve it."

After some more perfunctory congratulations, Nick and Jeff wandered off. As soon as they were gone, Dave sat heavily on the bench next to Kurt, a stormy look still on his face.

"What's the matter?" Kurt asked calmly. "Don't like that I didn't get a solo?"

"No! I mean, yes! I... I mean, you were great! All that bullshit about you not fitting the mold. I don't know why..."

"Why Wes and David didn't give a solo to me after you asked them to?"

"Yeah! They promised they'd..." Dave stopped dead, gaping at Kurt, who was now glaring. "How did you know about that?"

"Funny thing about doors, David. Even the thick ones won't block sound if they're not shut all the way. And don't blame your friends. After you left, I told them to judge me impartially, according to their own standards."

"What? Why'd you do that?"

"Why did I do that?" Kurt hissed. "Why did you do what you did? Did you think I wanted to get a solo that way? As a favor you just give out like a benevolent emperor?"

"I... I didn't mean it like that… You... You've been missing your friends so much..." Dave stammered. "And the Warblers... I know how much you love singing, and..."

"For your information, I do not want to accomplish my dreams through favors granted behind my back! I will get what I want through my own merits, or not at all! I will not be manipulated like some helpless puppet that can't move without your say-so! Are we clear on that?"

"Kurt, I..."

"I said, are we clear on that?"

Dave sighed. "Yeah, we're clear. I'm..."

"Sorry, yes, I know. At least this time you have something to be sorry about." Kurt smiled a little despite himself. "Although, I will admit that it's somewhat sweet of you to have pulled your weight like that for me. I know you didn't like to do it."

"Definitely felt weird. But... I just wanted one good thing to happen to you. Just one, after all the shit you've been through the past few months." Dave sighed. "I just wanted for something to go your way for once."

"I met you," Kurt replied quietly. "That's a good thing."

Dave rubbed the back of his head, his eyes going anywhere except towards Kurt's face. "Thanks. I... I guess that is a good thing, isn't it? For me too, I mean. I made a great friend."

"Yeah." A moment of silence followed that not even the hustle and bustle of the Dalton school day seemed to penetrate. "Besides, it's not long to Sectionals. I prefer to have more time to perfect my solos anyway. I'm eager to see more of the Warblers' workings from the inside."

Dave let out a relieved breath. "Yeah, and you don't even have to put on a plain suit and pretend to be a student to do it."

Kurt laughed, playfully whacking Dave on the forearm. "Oh, shut up! God, am I ever going to live that down?"

"Not as long as I'm around." Dave's eyes were sparkling in the afternoon light.

"Well, then," Kurt said with a smile. "I hope that's a 'never,' then."

Dave nodded and returned the smile. "Yeah. Maybe it is."