Fic: Homecoming
Title: Homecoming
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Mike/Tina, suggestion of Brittany/Santana (mostly Kurt-Mike friendship fic, though)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of spoilers through 2.09. Somewhat AU after 2.06.
Word Count: ~1900
Summary: In which Kurt and Mike commiserate, Tina and Blaine really hate the BCS, and Santana just wants her Breadstix.
Notes: Sequel to Thaw and Just Dance. You should probably have read them to understand the relationships here.
This story is for pyroclastic, even though it's not the one I promised her.
FYI, this is the BCS. All you need to know is that is it a completely arbitrary system for ranking college football teams. And that it's really stupid. And evil. Just like Nick Saban. My apologies to anyone in the SEC. Big Ten(ish) represent!
“The SEC is such an overrated conference, East to West, top to bottom,” Blaine observes, voice dripping with disdain.
“I know, right?” agrees Tina, nodding vehemently. “Also, Nick Saban may actually be the devil.”
Blaine's loud startled laugh only barely masks Mike's groan. Kurt seems to hear it anyway, encouraging him to offer a gentle nudge with his foot from his position opposite Mike in their booth at Breadstix. (Apparently there actually aren't any better restaurants closer to Dalton.)
He looks up to see Kurt smile and roll his eyes exaggeratedly. Mike can't help but smile back.
Blaine and Tina have been at it non-stop for the past twenty minutes. The Buckeyes prospects for the rest of the season. Recruitment strategies for next year. Heisman Trophy candidates. Mike's pretty confident, though, that things will start winding down naturally any minute now as long as neither of them mentions...
“The BCS is by far the worst thing that has ever happened to college athletics. Or any sport in history, really,” Blaine declares fervently.
Fuck! Tina is incapable of completing her BCS rant in less than half an hour. Mike has timed it. Twice.
Groaning a bit more heartily this time, he slumps forward and buries his face in his folded arms on the table. Kurt gives him a supportive pat on the shoulder. Tina and Blaine remain oblivious.
“Does this happen often?” Kurt asks to Mike's peeking eyes, gesturing to Tina, diatribe in full swing, and Blaine, hanging on to every word.
“You have no idea,” answers Mike into the table before leaning back to address Kurt properly. “My parents were a little freaked out by her clothes and make up the first time I brought her home, but one Saturday afternoon watching OSU together and my dad is ready to start planning the wedding.”
Kurt's eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch them build steam. “Not to stereotype, but I never would have pictured Tina as a football fan. She always seemed delightfully ambivalent to the McKinley team, at any rate.”
“Oh, she is,” Mike confirms with a little smile. “I think she's had too many encounters with the dregs of that cesspool to muster much support for them, present company of former Titans and Glee club members excepted, of course,” he adds with a smirk.
Kurt's shoulders stiffen instantly, most likely in memory of his final days at McKinley. Mike flounders for something reassuring to say, but just as quickly Kurt has forced himself to relax, leaning ever so slightly closer to Blaine in the process. Blaine somehow instinctively mirrors his movement without missing a beat in what appears to be his turn at ranting. Something about institutionalized discrimination against small conference teams and incentives for big schools to pad their schedules.
“It's just college football that makes her a little crazy,” Mike offers to try and break the tension. He pauses to make sure Tina didn't hear that before continuing. “Her parents met at a tailgate party at OSU when they were in college and decided to pass the tradition on to the next generation early. I think she went to her first game when she was two.”
“Huh,” Kurt mutters reflectively. “Artie's decision to join the football team suddenly makes a whole lot more sense.”
And then he apparently remembers who he is talking to, eyes going wide in alarm. “Oh my god, Mike, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”
Mike just smirks at him and waves it off. “It's okay, Kurt. Believe it or not, I actually figured that one out on my own.”
He's gotten good at not letting it get to him, the knowledge that his girlfriend's first love wants her back and is willing to go to great lengths to achieve it. He'd do the same thing if he lost Tina. Still, his eyes drift unconsciously in her direction, taking in her fire and enthusiasm and letting it warm him.
Kurt is smiling knowingly at him when he turns back and Mike can't fight his blush.
“So Tina's a hardcore tailgater. What about you?”
Mike shrugs. “I always found football boring to be honest. It's just so slow and regimented.”
“So why did you ever decide to join the team in the first place?” asks Kurt, curious and surprisingly non-judgmental.
Mike grimaces anyway at the memory. “My dad thought it would be a good way to help me 'break out of my shell,'” he answers with his own eyeroll. “He promised me a car for my sixteenth if I stuck it out on the team for a whole season. I really couldn't quit fast enough.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal, though,” Kurt offers.
“Yeah. I'm not complaining,” Mike agrees. “I was a bench warmer for the worst team in history. It wasn't too much of a hardship. No one really paid that much attention to me.”
He can hear the hint of hurt in his own voice and regrets it deeply. Kurt is the last person on the planet he should complain to about being ignored by the other athletes. He musters a smile and continues. “Besides, if it weren't for the football team and you, I probably never would have found my way into Glee Club.”
Kurt's smile spreads across his face, proud, if just a little haughty. It is a very Kurt kind of smile. Mike is reminded once again of how different this boy in front of him is from the one who had occupied the halls of McKinley less than a month ago, shoulders slumped and emotionally cut off from everyone around him.
They both fall silent for a few minutes, lost to their thoughts, but with eyes naturally drifting to the pair on the inside of the booth and settling into the buzzing rhythm of the frantic conversation volleying back and forth.
“Do you think we should try to derail this before the food gets here?” Kurt asks eventually.
Mike nods and places a gentle hand on Tina's arm. Tina shakes it off with a dismissive flutter, but just as quickly lets her arm drop to her side in between them and gives Mike's leg an apologetic squeeze. Her other hand starts flapping double time to compensate for its now stationary counterpart.
Kurt smirks at Mike (still a little haughty) before attempting his own maneuver. Kurt aims a little higher, hand landing with a firm squeeze on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine shoots Kurt a blink-and-you'll-miss-it grin before immediately turning back to Tina. His hand, however, shoots up to quickly link fingers with Kurt's before they both also disappear under the table.
Mike raises an eyebrow back at Kurt, who seems caught between a smile and a scowl. Mike knows the feeling.
***
The food arrives shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, it seems to have very little impact on either Tina or Blaine. They pause more frequently (Blaine would never talk with his mouth full) in between declarative statements about the oversaturation of bowl games devaluing their significance for the fanbase and the unchecked and predatory expansion of the conference system (whatever that means).
It's actually pretty peaceful, once Mike and Kurt start taking turns trying to reign in the noise level each time it inevitably spirals above what is acceptable for a public dining establishment.
“Scoot it, Ladyface!” barks a harsh, very familiar voice. So much for peaceful.
“What are you doing here?” Kurt asks as he looks up at Santana warily before turning his head a few degrees and offering Brittany a guarded but genuine smile. The sunny smile he gets in return is almost enough to soothe over his irritation at the disruption.
Almost.
“Britt and I drive by the parking lot once an hour looking for familiar cars,” Santana explains lazily, as if this were perfectly normal behavior. “We saw your sweet ride outside and decided that you owe us dinner for leaving us behind with Rachel.”
Brittany walks to the opposite side of the booth and smiles down sweetly at Mike, waiting for him to move in closer to Tina before sitting next to him. When he does, she flops gracefully down and rests her head on Mike's shoulder.
Santana of course waits for no such invitation and all but hipchecks Kurt until he is practically sitting on Blaine's lap. This is what finally manages to draw Blaine and Tina's attention.
If Blaine's grin is anything to judge by, he has very little objection to this particular turn of events.
“Who's the pocket hottie, Hummel?” Santana asks, leaning forward and directing a leer past Kurt at Blaine.
Kurt rolls his eyes and turns to his boyfriend. (And yes, his heart still flutters a little when he thinks of Blaine that way). “Blaine, this is Santana and Brittany.”
“It's a pleasure to finally meet you both,” Blaine offers with a wide grin. He even sounds sincere. Kurt's pretty sure he will never get used to that level of warmth and openness.
Santana scoffs, but Brittany offers a friendly little wave. “Does he have baby hands like yours, too?”
Kurt closes his eyes in mortification. He can feel Blaine's stifled laughter through the seat's padding behind them.
Kurt summons the strength to open his eyes and throws a unimpressed look toward Santana. “We're not buying you dinner. Your... wiles hold no sway here.”
Santana gives Kurt and Blaine an assessing look before scowling and turning a suggestive grin to Mike. Mike just shrugs.
“I've got a hot girlfriend, find you terrifying, and think of Brittany like a sister.”
Brittany snuggles closer on Mike's shoulder and beams up at him.
Kurt can't help the smile that spreads across his face at the both of them. “I kind of love your new backbone, Mike. It's adorable.” So is Mike's blush.
When they all then follow Santana's heated gaze over at Tina, her cheeks are suspiciously pink and she's avoiding eye contact. Mike grabs her hand on the table and gives it a firm squeeze until she looks up at him and matches his warm smile.
To his right, Blaine is giving Tina a soft look and Kurt is fairly certain that he has a “So you think you're bisexual!” pep talk already forming in his mind. Kurt begins to worry that his heart might actually ache out of affection for these insane people in his life.
“What is this fresh hell you ordered, Hummel?” Santana asks, scowling darkly at Kurt's plate, off of which she has apparently been eating.
Kurt counts to ten, a little (only a little) thankful to Santana for saving him from the brink of emotional outpouring.
“Have a breadstick, Santana,” he commands forcefully, handing her the coveted container and finally successfully diverting her attention, at least for a little while.
The waitress returns shortly thereafter to refill their drinks and take orders from Santana and Brittany. Between the warmth of Blaine flush at his side and the sight of his friends smiling back at him (and not judging him for his defection), Kurt's pretty sure he couldn't have asked for a better evening.
“So does the BCS actually account for homefield advantage in any way? Because it is so much more of a factor in the college game than the NFL.”
This time it's Kurt's pained groan that is only barely masked.
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Mike/Tina, suggestion of Brittany/Santana (mostly Kurt-Mike friendship fic, though)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of spoilers through 2.09. Somewhat AU after 2.06.
Word Count: ~1900
Summary: In which Kurt and Mike commiserate, Tina and Blaine really hate the BCS, and Santana just wants her Breadstix.
Notes: Sequel to Thaw and Just Dance. You should probably have read them to understand the relationships here.
This story is for pyroclastic, even though it's not the one I promised her.
FYI, this is the BCS. All you need to know is that is it a completely arbitrary system for ranking college football teams. And that it's really stupid. And evil. Just like Nick Saban. My apologies to anyone in the SEC. Big Ten(ish) represent!
“The SEC is such an overrated conference, East to West, top to bottom,” Blaine observes, voice dripping with disdain.
“I know, right?” agrees Tina, nodding vehemently. “Also, Nick Saban may actually be the devil.”
Blaine's loud startled laugh only barely masks Mike's groan. Kurt seems to hear it anyway, encouraging him to offer a gentle nudge with his foot from his position opposite Mike in their booth at Breadstix. (Apparently there actually aren't any better restaurants closer to Dalton.)
He looks up to see Kurt smile and roll his eyes exaggeratedly. Mike can't help but smile back.
Blaine and Tina have been at it non-stop for the past twenty minutes. The Buckeyes prospects for the rest of the season. Recruitment strategies for next year. Heisman Trophy candidates. Mike's pretty confident, though, that things will start winding down naturally any minute now as long as neither of them mentions...
“The BCS is by far the worst thing that has ever happened to college athletics. Or any sport in history, really,” Blaine declares fervently.
Fuck! Tina is incapable of completing her BCS rant in less than half an hour. Mike has timed it. Twice.
Groaning a bit more heartily this time, he slumps forward and buries his face in his folded arms on the table. Kurt gives him a supportive pat on the shoulder. Tina and Blaine remain oblivious.
“Does this happen often?” Kurt asks to Mike's peeking eyes, gesturing to Tina, diatribe in full swing, and Blaine, hanging on to every word.
“You have no idea,” answers Mike into the table before leaning back to address Kurt properly. “My parents were a little freaked out by her clothes and make up the first time I brought her home, but one Saturday afternoon watching OSU together and my dad is ready to start planning the wedding.”
Kurt's eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch them build steam. “Not to stereotype, but I never would have pictured Tina as a football fan. She always seemed delightfully ambivalent to the McKinley team, at any rate.”
“Oh, she is,” Mike confirms with a little smile. “I think she's had too many encounters with the dregs of that cesspool to muster much support for them, present company of former Titans and Glee club members excepted, of course,” he adds with a smirk.
Kurt's shoulders stiffen instantly, most likely in memory of his final days at McKinley. Mike flounders for something reassuring to say, but just as quickly Kurt has forced himself to relax, leaning ever so slightly closer to Blaine in the process. Blaine somehow instinctively mirrors his movement without missing a beat in what appears to be his turn at ranting. Something about institutionalized discrimination against small conference teams and incentives for big schools to pad their schedules.
“It's just college football that makes her a little crazy,” Mike offers to try and break the tension. He pauses to make sure Tina didn't hear that before continuing. “Her parents met at a tailgate party at OSU when they were in college and decided to pass the tradition on to the next generation early. I think she went to her first game when she was two.”
“Huh,” Kurt mutters reflectively. “Artie's decision to join the football team suddenly makes a whole lot more sense.”
And then he apparently remembers who he is talking to, eyes going wide in alarm. “Oh my god, Mike, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”
Mike just smirks at him and waves it off. “It's okay, Kurt. Believe it or not, I actually figured that one out on my own.”
He's gotten good at not letting it get to him, the knowledge that his girlfriend's first love wants her back and is willing to go to great lengths to achieve it. He'd do the same thing if he lost Tina. Still, his eyes drift unconsciously in her direction, taking in her fire and enthusiasm and letting it warm him.
Kurt is smiling knowingly at him when he turns back and Mike can't fight his blush.
“So Tina's a hardcore tailgater. What about you?”
Mike shrugs. “I always found football boring to be honest. It's just so slow and regimented.”
“So why did you ever decide to join the team in the first place?” asks Kurt, curious and surprisingly non-judgmental.
Mike grimaces anyway at the memory. “My dad thought it would be a good way to help me 'break out of my shell,'” he answers with his own eyeroll. “He promised me a car for my sixteenth if I stuck it out on the team for a whole season. I really couldn't quit fast enough.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal, though,” Kurt offers.
“Yeah. I'm not complaining,” Mike agrees. “I was a bench warmer for the worst team in history. It wasn't too much of a hardship. No one really paid that much attention to me.”
He can hear the hint of hurt in his own voice and regrets it deeply. Kurt is the last person on the planet he should complain to about being ignored by the other athletes. He musters a smile and continues. “Besides, if it weren't for the football team and you, I probably never would have found my way into Glee Club.”
Kurt's smile spreads across his face, proud, if just a little haughty. It is a very Kurt kind of smile. Mike is reminded once again of how different this boy in front of him is from the one who had occupied the halls of McKinley less than a month ago, shoulders slumped and emotionally cut off from everyone around him.
They both fall silent for a few minutes, lost to their thoughts, but with eyes naturally drifting to the pair on the inside of the booth and settling into the buzzing rhythm of the frantic conversation volleying back and forth.
“Do you think we should try to derail this before the food gets here?” Kurt asks eventually.
Mike nods and places a gentle hand on Tina's arm. Tina shakes it off with a dismissive flutter, but just as quickly lets her arm drop to her side in between them and gives Mike's leg an apologetic squeeze. Her other hand starts flapping double time to compensate for its now stationary counterpart.
Kurt smirks at Mike (still a little haughty) before attempting his own maneuver. Kurt aims a little higher, hand landing with a firm squeeze on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine shoots Kurt a blink-and-you'll-miss-it grin before immediately turning back to Tina. His hand, however, shoots up to quickly link fingers with Kurt's before they both also disappear under the table.
Mike raises an eyebrow back at Kurt, who seems caught between a smile and a scowl. Mike knows the feeling.
***
The food arrives shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, it seems to have very little impact on either Tina or Blaine. They pause more frequently (Blaine would never talk with his mouth full) in between declarative statements about the oversaturation of bowl games devaluing their significance for the fanbase and the unchecked and predatory expansion of the conference system (whatever that means).
It's actually pretty peaceful, once Mike and Kurt start taking turns trying to reign in the noise level each time it inevitably spirals above what is acceptable for a public dining establishment.
“Scoot it, Ladyface!” barks a harsh, very familiar voice. So much for peaceful.
“What are you doing here?” Kurt asks as he looks up at Santana warily before turning his head a few degrees and offering Brittany a guarded but genuine smile. The sunny smile he gets in return is almost enough to soothe over his irritation at the disruption.
Almost.
“Britt and I drive by the parking lot once an hour looking for familiar cars,” Santana explains lazily, as if this were perfectly normal behavior. “We saw your sweet ride outside and decided that you owe us dinner for leaving us behind with Rachel.”
Brittany walks to the opposite side of the booth and smiles down sweetly at Mike, waiting for him to move in closer to Tina before sitting next to him. When he does, she flops gracefully down and rests her head on Mike's shoulder.
Santana of course waits for no such invitation and all but hipchecks Kurt until he is practically sitting on Blaine's lap. This is what finally manages to draw Blaine and Tina's attention.
If Blaine's grin is anything to judge by, he has very little objection to this particular turn of events.
“Who's the pocket hottie, Hummel?” Santana asks, leaning forward and directing a leer past Kurt at Blaine.
Kurt rolls his eyes and turns to his boyfriend. (And yes, his heart still flutters a little when he thinks of Blaine that way). “Blaine, this is Santana and Brittany.”
“It's a pleasure to finally meet you both,” Blaine offers with a wide grin. He even sounds sincere. Kurt's pretty sure he will never get used to that level of warmth and openness.
Santana scoffs, but Brittany offers a friendly little wave. “Does he have baby hands like yours, too?”
Kurt closes his eyes in mortification. He can feel Blaine's stifled laughter through the seat's padding behind them.
Kurt summons the strength to open his eyes and throws a unimpressed look toward Santana. “We're not buying you dinner. Your... wiles hold no sway here.”
Santana gives Kurt and Blaine an assessing look before scowling and turning a suggestive grin to Mike. Mike just shrugs.
“I've got a hot girlfriend, find you terrifying, and think of Brittany like a sister.”
Brittany snuggles closer on Mike's shoulder and beams up at him.
Kurt can't help the smile that spreads across his face at the both of them. “I kind of love your new backbone, Mike. It's adorable.” So is Mike's blush.
When they all then follow Santana's heated gaze over at Tina, her cheeks are suspiciously pink and she's avoiding eye contact. Mike grabs her hand on the table and gives it a firm squeeze until she looks up at him and matches his warm smile.
To his right, Blaine is giving Tina a soft look and Kurt is fairly certain that he has a “So you think you're bisexual!” pep talk already forming in his mind. Kurt begins to worry that his heart might actually ache out of affection for these insane people in his life.
“What is this fresh hell you ordered, Hummel?” Santana asks, scowling darkly at Kurt's plate, off of which she has apparently been eating.
Kurt counts to ten, a little (only a little) thankful to Santana for saving him from the brink of emotional outpouring.
“Have a breadstick, Santana,” he commands forcefully, handing her the coveted container and finally successfully diverting her attention, at least for a little while.
The waitress returns shortly thereafter to refill their drinks and take orders from Santana and Brittany. Between the warmth of Blaine flush at his side and the sight of his friends smiling back at him (and not judging him for his defection), Kurt's pretty sure he couldn't have asked for a better evening.
“So does the BCS actually account for homefield advantage in any way? Because it is so much more of a factor in the college game than the NFL.”
This time it's Kurt's pained groan that is only barely masked.