Chapter 9: Prom

Nigel hung his tux on the hook in the back seat, and closed the car door. Driving home, he couldn't help smiling. Thanks to Kurt, he was getting a second chance at experiencing Junior Prom. He had ditched his own Junior Prom, Senior Prom too, for that matter. He told his parents that it was lame, but the truth was that he didn't want to go with a girl, and he wasn't brave enough to go with a boy, so … no Prom. He hadn't told his parents, or anyone else, that he was gay until he started college.

Tonight, with Kurt, he was really looking forward to participating in this rite of passage. He wanted to hold his boyfriend close and dance in the McKinley gym, amid tacky paper decorations, and bad punch. He may be a little late to the party, but he was here, he was with Kurt, and he was happy.

Nigel's phone rang, and he hit the Bluetooth on his visor. "Hello?"

"Nigel! Thank God! Where are you?"

"On my way home, I just picked up my tux at…"

"Nigel, I am Lima Memorial. Angie had an appendicitis attack…"

"I'll be there in 10."

"Hurry, Nigel. I'm freaking out."

"I know, don't worry, Claire. I'm coming."

Nigel hit end call, and pressed his foot down on the gas. If there was ever a time for speeding, this was it.

"No! Mercedes, you can't wear that nail colour." Kurt listened to his BFF for a second. "I don't care what Teen Vogue says, that colour will clash with your dress." Kurt crossed the room, and looked at the formal jacket and kilt hanging on the front of his closet door. "I'm hanging up, Mercedes. If you wear that nail polish, don't blame me when you hate the pictures."

Kurt smiled as he touched the buttons on the sleeve of his jacket. Burt had totally freaked out about him wearing a kilt to prom. He didn't get what the big deal was. In Scotland, this was formal wear, not tuxedos. It's not like he was wearing those highland socks, and leather dance slippers. He was wearing black skinny jeans and Doc Marten's with the kilt … plenty butch enough.

"Kurt?" Finn called down from the top of the staircase into Kurt's basement room. "I'm going to the florist's to pick up Quinn's corsage and my boutonnière. Do you want me to get yours and Nigel's?"

"Thanks, Finn. That would be great."

"No problem, bro."

Finn slammed out of the house, and jumped into his mom's car. He was more than happy to run errands, anything to escape the Junior Prom excitement that filled his house. Carole and Burt were so hyped you'd think it was their Prom, and Kurt was bubbling over. Of course Kurt was happy; he was going with a guy he was really in to. Finn was going with Quinn and he still didn't know how the hell that happened. He was dating Rachel, and then she cheated on him with Puck. Now, he was back with Quinn, but she had also cheated on him with Puck. This relationship thing sucked!

Finn pulled into a parking space in front of the florist. He pretended to be Finn the Happy, but he was really just confused and depressed. Walking into the shop, he wished he could stay home tonight and watch TV.

Kurt was in his bathrobe, ready to step into the shower when his phone rang. Picking up the phone, he saw it was an actual call, not a text, from Nigel.

"Hi, babe"

"Kurt, I'm at Lima Memorial. Angie's going in to emergency surgery with appendicitis."

Kurt's hand clenched around the phone, and his mind went blank for a second. "I'm coming over. What do you need?"

"No, no Kurt, don't come. We're just sitting here waiting. There's nothing you can do." Nigel's voice was determined. "I don't want you to miss Prom. Get dressed, and go. Have fun with your friends. I'm going to wait with Claire until Angie's out of surgery. Once she's out of post-op and back in her room, and Claire's calmed down I'll come to McKinley. I'll join you as soon as I can."

"You sure you don't want me to come to the hospital? There'll be other Proms."

"No, I missed mine and I don't want you to miss yours. I mean it, Kurt. Have a good time, and I'll get there as soon as I can."

"O.K. Hug Claire for me, and tell Angie I'll come visit her tomorrow."

"I will. Have fun, Kurt. I'll see you later."

Kurt dropped into his desk chair, and stared at his phone. He looked over at his jacket and kilt, and then down at his phone again. He felt like a perforated balloon, all the happy leaking out of him, into a puddle at his feet.

Finn clomped down the stairs. "Here's your…" Kurt sat at his desk, staring at nothing, phone in hand. "What happened?"

Kurt looked up, eyes sad and lost. "Nigel's niece is in the hospital, appendicitis." Kurt waved his hands dejectedly, forgetting that he was still holding his phone. "He says he'll come to McKinley as soon as he can."

"That sucks, dude." Finn put the two florist's boxes down on Kurt's desk. "Look, Kurt it won't be so bad. He'll be a little late but he'll be there, right?"

"Yeah, he said he would."

Finn took the phone out of Kurt's hand, and pulled his brother out of the chair. "You'd better start getting ready, you know it takes you forever, dude."

"Does not." Kurt attempted his usual snark. He knew that Finn was trying to tease him into a better mood, and he was grateful.

"Does too." Finn started for the stairs. "I'll give you a lift. That way you won't have to take your car, and you can drive home with Nigel."

Nigel and Claire sat in the hospital waiting room, on their third cup of awful cafeteria coffee. Every time anyone passed the door, they looked up, hungry for news on Angie. Nigel stood and paced. Claire wrung her hands together, and started to bite her nails.

"Ms. Denison?"

"Yes." Claire jumped up. The nurse smiled reassuringly. "The surgery is finished. Angie's in post-op now, doing well. As soon as she's awake, and we move her in to a room, you can see her. I'll come back here and take you to her, as soon as we've got her settled."

"Thank you!" Claire smiled with teary eyes, and threw herself into her brother's arms. "She's going to be O.K.!"

Nigel rubbed her back in soothing circles. "Shhh! Shhh!"

Kurt knocked on Finn's door.

"Yeah, come in."

"I thought I was the one who took forever." Kurt smirked at his step-brother.

Finn turned from the mirror. "Dude, I've been trying to tie this thing for 20 minutes. I think I killed it."

Kurt looked at the remains of Finn's tie. "Yep, it's dead." He tugged the bowtie away from his step-brother's neck. "I'll be right back."

Less than four minutes later, Kurt was back, with a starched perfect tie in his hands. Finn stared at the tie, his brows scrunched up in confusion. "Did you have an extra one?"

"What? No." Kurt turned Finn's shirt collar up, and slid the tie in place. "This is your tie. I just spritzed it with starch and pressed it. Now stand still." Kurt contorted the tie into the required shape and stepped back.

Finn checked the mirror. "Dude, you're like a miracle worker!"

"Yeah, that's me." Kurt started out of the room. "Let's go, Quinn's probably tearing her hair out by now."

Kurt took a sip of the punch he was pretending to drink and looked around the gymnasium. This was so not how he thought his Junior Prom would be. Artie had been pulled off somewhere by Coach Sylvester for spiking the punch. Finn and Jesse had been kicked out for fighting. Quinn and Rachel were pissed, glaring at each other. Santana was with Dave Karofsky, and that was just wrong on so many levels. It actually hurt to see them pretending with such determination. He had spent most of the evening texting Nigel for updates on Angie. So far, the only fun's he'd had was when he'd performed with New Directions. Kurt crumpled his paper cup, and threw it away.

Not everyone was having a bad time. Brittany was dancing with anyone and everyone. Watching her, Kurt had to smile. He walked over to join Sam, Rachel and Mercedes.

"Hey, white boy, dance?"

"Sure." Dancing with his friends Kurt almost forgot how much he wanted Nigel to be there.

Angie looked so small in the hospital bed. She slept, a teddy bear that one of the nurses gave her, tucked under the blankets with her. Claire sat beside her daughter's bed, touching her hand every few seconds, careful not to wake her. Nigel leaned over his niece and brushed her hair off her face. They are both quiet, watching the little girl sleep.

"God, Nigel, I was so scared." Claire looked at her brother, and whispered to keep from waking Angie. "I thought it was just a stomach ache, and then she was crying…"

"Claire, how could you know? You're not a doctor." Nigel took his sister's hand. "She's fine. She's going to be O.K. You did good."

Claire wiped her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, she's going to be O.K." She squeezed her brother's hand. "Thank you for being here for me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, Claire. That's what we do, we're family."

"I'm better now." Claire tugged on Nigel's hand. "So, go to Prom. Kurt's waiting for you."

Nigel hesitated. "No, I'll stay with you for a while."

"No. I'm good. Angie's good." Claire pushed Nigel. "Go!"

Nigel kissed Claire's temple quickly, then ran like hell…all the way to the parking lot. He changed right there, beside the car. He figured, this was a hospital; they were used to half-naked.

He sent Kurt a text. "On my way" He started the car, and prayed for only green lights.

The music stopped, as Principal Figgins took the stage. The students fall silent, waiting for the announcement of Prom King and Queen.

"Your Prom King is David Karofsky"

Kurt clapped with everyone else, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was watching the doors for Nigel.

"Your Prom Queen is …. Kurt Hummel"

The silence closed in around Kurt. He felt it like a blanket against his skin. He stared at the stage, frozen, as the words replayed in his head. He bolted for the nearest door, and ran down the hallway. He turned a corner too fast and slammed into a locker. He slid down onto the floor.

How could they be this mean? Why? Why were they doing this? What had he ever done to any of them, except not be exactly like them? Of course, he was different. He thanked every god he didn't believe in that he was different. There was no way he wanted to be like those losers. Not now, not ever.

Kurt stood and walked back to the gymnasium. Screw them! He didn't care what they thought. He straightened his shoulders and walked back to the stage. He took his crown and scepter, and spoke to the silent crowd staring at him.

"Kate Middleton eat your heart out"

He walked down the steps from the stage, on to the dance floor with Dave.

"Now's your moment."

"What?"

"Come out. Make a difference."

The music started, and the two boys looked at each other.

"I can't."

Dave ran off, leaving Kurt alone on the dance floor.

"Excuse me."

Kurt turned slowly, and saw a hand held out to him.

"May I have this dance?"

Nigel! Nigel was here, and Kurt could breathe again. He stepped into his boyfriend's arms. He didn't care what any of these misbegotten Neanderthals thought. He was dancing with Nigel. The music to Dancing Queen thundered through the room, students crowded the dance floor around them, balloons fell from the ceiling. He was dancing with Nigel, at Prom!

McKinley lore will forever remember that Junior Prom as the one where a boy was crowned Prom Queen, but Kurt had other memories to balance the shock and hurt of that cruel vote. During the evening, as he danced with his boyfriend and his friends, a few students congratulated him. The first time a guy slapped him on the back and said, "Congrats, dude!" Kurt thought it was more of the same tired joke. But the guy smiled and shook his hand and walked away. One girl called, "That was awesome, Kurt!", as she danced by. He got a few high fives on the dance floor. He was standing talking to Puck and Nigel, when a guy called out, "Your Majesty" and nodded his head at Kurt in approval.

Kurt looked at Nigel and Puck. "I don't get it."

Puck shrugged. "It's respect dude." Puck cupped his own balls. "You've got big ones."

Kurt flushed pink. "Never, ever do that again."

Nigel laughed. "You were amazing, Kurt. Courage under fire!"

"You showed them up for the scared little sheep they are." Puck sneered at the teenagers around them. "You did it with style and grace, me, I probably would have…" Puck flicked the hem of Kurt's kilt. "lifted that skirt and mooned them."

Kurt swatted Puck's hand away from his 'skirt'. "It's a kilt, Puckerman."

"Whatever, dude."

Kurt and Nigel held hands, walking to the parking lot.

Nigel pressed his key to unlock the car. "Are there any after parties?"

Kurt slid into the passenger seat. "Tina's invited everyone back to her place."

Nigel fit his key into the ignition. "Where does she live?"

Kurt put a hand on Nigel's arm. "We don't have to go. I'd rather be alone with you."

"Being alone with you is always my first choice." Nigel smiled and trailed his fingers down the side of Kurt's face. "We've got the house to ourselves tonight. Claire's staying at the hospital with Angie, and Tommy's staying with a friend for the duration."

Kurt nodded and slid his seat belt home. "Perfect."

Sitting at a red light, Kurt turned to Nigel. "Do you want to swing by the hospital first and check on Angie and Claire?"

"Would you mind?"

"Of course not, you'll feel better, and so will I."

The light changed and Nigel turned left. "Thanks for understanding, Kurt."

The McKinley student tipped his head at an arrogant angle. "Noblesse oblige, my dear."

Nigel laughed. "Oh, excuse me, your majesty!"

Visiting hours were over. Kurt and Nigel waited for the nurse to leave her desk, and then snuck into Angie's room. Claire sat curled up in a chair by her daughter's bed, almost asleep. She startled when she heard their footsteps, and then stood holding her hands to her lips. "Oh, you look fantastic!" She hugged both of them, and stepped back. "I never thought I'd see the day, my brother, looking like a gentleman!" She spoke quietly, the way everyone does in a hospital room. "Kurt, is it wrong if I say you're beautiful?"

Kurt smiled at Claire. "I accept any and all compliments."

Nigel put his arm around the countertenor's waist. "Thank you, Claire. He doesn't believe me, when I tell him."

"Did you guys have a good time?"

Kurt held his crown and scepter out to Claire. "Give these to Angie when she wakes up."

"She'll love them, thanks. Where did you get them, this time of night?"

"It's a long story." Nigel nodded in Angie's direction. "How's she doing?"

"Good, she was a little nauseous from the anesthesia but she woke up earlier and ate a bit. She's really sleepy but they tell me that's normal."

"How about you, do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good." She kissed each of them on the cheek. "Thanks for stopping by. Now, go enjoy the rest of your night."

Nigel closed and locked the front door. He turned the hall light on. The house felt weird, and quiet without the kids and Claire. He smiled at Kurt, as he backed the younger man up against the wall. "Want to sleep with a commoner?"

Kurt wound his arms around Nigel's neck. "Always."

In Nigel's room, they undressed each other. Kurt undid the knot in Nigel's bowtie, and started on the buttons of his shirt, kissing the skin he uncovered. Nigel slid Kurt's jacket off, worked open the studs in his tuxedo shirt, and opened his vest. "God, Kurt, always with the layers!"

The McKinley student glided his hand down the OSU student's back. "But, it's worth it, right?"

Nigel pulled Kurt in for a kiss. His tongue stroked Kurt's. "Yes!"

Kurt moved to open the buckles on his kilt, and Nigel stopped him. "No, leave it on. Take off everything else, but leave the kilt on."

Kurt sat on the bed, and tugged his boots off. He grinned at Nigel. "I didn't know you had a thing for kilts?"

Nigel shrugged off his jacket, and the shirt that Kurt had already opened. "I didn't know either." He stripped quickly, and watched Kurt wriggle out of his skinny jeans. "You know, I'm the one who should be wearing the kilt. Dennison is a Scottish name."

"Really?" Kurt slid off his underwear and socks. He stood, wearing only the kilt.

"Yeah, my great-grandfather or something like that." Nigel placed his hands at Kurt's hips. "I've seen pictures; I think we even have a family tartan." He slid his hands up Kurt's chest, and nuzzled into the countertenor's neck. "This one looks amazing on you, but I would be honored if you would wear our tartan next year."

"Next year?"

"Yeah. Next year, at Senior Prom."