Fairy Boy - Three
Title: Fairy Boy aka "Waiting for my Fairy Godmother to Arrive"
Author: FearfulLT
Rating: Pg-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine (sorta), Kurt/Puck endgame.
Genre: Drama/Angst
Warning: Fairies, silliness, and a general lack of respect for canon.
Spoilers: Set somewhere in season two.
Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment.
Summary: Original summary, modified summary - The troublemaker sprite Puck has just one chance left to avoid exile. The task? Be a fairy godmother and find this Hummel kid True Love. Before prom night. Sure... no problem.
Word Count: 1814
The Dalton Academy school uniform was sharp, navy blue, and gave off just the right amount of preppy snobbery to say ‘this is a private school’. Kurt stood stock still, arms held stiffly at his sides while the pointed, razor-sharp wand held firmly in Puck’s hand flitted about him like a hummingbird on crack. He could swear he heard it whistling as it whizzed past his ear to tap him first on one shoulder and then back to tap the other shoulder. He hadn’t realised he’d squeezed his eyes shut until Puck finally announced; “Ok, you can look now.”
Kurt cracked open one eye, then other, and looked down at himself. Just a minute ago he’d been dressed in grey slacks and a hounds tooth print vest over a white shirt. Now he appeared to be wearing a perfect replica of the Dalton uniform. “Not bad...”
“Not bad?” Puck rolled his eyes, tucking his wand away again. “Psh. It’s freakin’ awesome.”
“Well it will get me in, I’m sure.” Kurt eyed his companion warily. “I hope you don’t plan on following me around. Visibly. Like that.” He gestured to the fairy’s current combination of red tartan pants and ripped grey wifebeater.
Puck crossed his arms. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Nothing... For a punk fairy two decades out of fashion.”
“Says the guy who thinks ‘on sale’ means ‘white trash only’.”
Kurt hid a smile. “Well I just mean that you’d stand out. Unless you plan on conjuring up a uniform for yourself.”
Puck gave him a look, then casually started to walk up towards Dalton’s main building. “I’m going invisible,” he called back to Kurt, “no disguise needed.”
Kurt shrugged and followed after the fairy. If Puck had actually tried to blend in he probably would have stood out like a sore thumb anyway. He couldn’t imagine anyone who actually went to Dalton would be caught dead with a mohawk. At least this way, with Puck in stealth mode, he’d be able to point out the boy in question without drawing attention to Kurt.
The inside of Dalton Academy was as posh as their uniform, all polished wood and marble flooring. It looked more like a mansion with a ridiculous layout than a school. Or it would have, were it not for all of the students running around.
Puck avoided them with the ease of practice, sliding through the crowds without brushing anyone with so much as a wing tip. Kurt had decidedly less success, as it seemed that actually being visible meant that he was immediately the centre of attention. He heard the words ‘new kid’ get tossed around a few times and resisted blushing.
Eventually their winding trail led them to a corridor that was comparatively quiet, a faint hum of noise coming from one of the classrooms.
Puck stopped outside the door and peered in through the window. “There’s your guy,” he told Kurt. “He’s the short one with the huge eyebrows.”
Kurt arched one of his eyebrows and subtly peered in through the window. He was only moderately surprised to see that there was some sort of choir meeting going on, the boys in the room arranged in formation and doing vocal warm-ups. He scanned the group, looking for someone with the vague description of ‘short with big eyebrows’. The closest match was a boy at the front. A boy with dark hair, creamy skin, and high cheekbones.
Kurt aimed a light kick at Puck’s shins. “You made him sound like he was ugly,” he hissed quietly. “’Short with huge eyebrows’. Oh my god.”
“He is short,” Puck replied, sidestepping the kick with ease. “And he does have huge eyebrows.”
Kurt was about to respond when he realised that the vocal exercises had died down and most of the choir was now looking in his direction. Not knowing what else to do (expecting no help from the invisible Puck), Kurt opened the door and stepped inside. “Um, hi,” he said, “I’m new here. Actually, I just arrived today. Is this the choir room?”
“Yes,” a boy replied, stepping forward, “but we’re not accepting auditions at this time.”
Slightly taken aback by the matter of fact rejection (and before even asking why he was there) Kurt found himself floundering for something to say. “Tell him he’s a jerk,” Puck muttered into his ear, like some kind of demented shoulder-devil. “And you’re here to see Blaine.”
“Um,” Kurt resisted the urge to bat Puck away from him. “Actually, I’m not here to audition. I’m here because I was told Blaine would be here. According to administration he’s supposed to show me around.”
“Fancy footwork,” Puck commented into his other ear. “Nice.”
Eyes turned towards the boy with the high cheekbones and (Kurt noticed) nice smile. The boy stepped forward. “I’m Blaine. It’s nice to meet you...”
“Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”
“Kurt,” Blaine repeated with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind but we’ve still got a few minutes of rehearsal left. I can show you around afterwards, but with show choir regionals coming up we really need this rehearsal time.”
“By all means,” Kurt replied graciously, scanning the room for a seat, “don’t let me stop you.”
The closest available seat was in a chair by the door, placed in exactly the perfect position to watch the boy’s choir as they finished warm-ups and launched into a completely acapella version of Teenage Dream. Blaine led the vocals, seeming to play up to Kurt as their audience. Part way through the song Kurt realised he was blushing a little... Though, to be more precise, he only noticed it because Puck poked him and commented; “You’re blushing. Guess that means you like this one.”
“Shush,” Kurt hissed under his breath, barely moving his lips, “I’m listening.”
“I’m watching,” Puck retorted, “this guy dances like a dork.”
Kurt was stopped from voicing his reply (‘Like you could do any better, Puck’) by the song ending. He snapped to his feet and clapped - a standing ovation from the Dalton choir’s visible audience. “That was... wow,” Kurt said, “you guys are really good.”
“We try our best,” Blaine replied modestly. He held out his hand for Kurt to take. “Come on then, I’ll take you on a tour of the school.”
Kurt couldn’t help but hesitate a moment, uncertain about taking the other boy’s hand. A threatening prod from Puck’s wand was what finally made him reach out, and when his fingers touched Blaine’s he could swear he felt a shock of static electricity. Of course it could have just been a side effect of the poke, but Kurt preferred to think it had something to do with the way the other boy smiled at him.
Blaine smiled at him and pulled him out of the room, not letting go of Kurt’s hand even when they were out in the corridor. A good sign, though Kurt was too surprised to make note of it. At McKinley no boy would dare hold hands with another boy in public - especially not with a boy so painfully obvious about his sexuality. Here nobody even gave the contact a second glance and Blaine acted as if it were perfectly normal for two teenage boys to walk hand in hand.
Kurt was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely registered that his guide was actually talking, giving him a history of Dalton Academy as they went.
“Is this normal?” Kurt interrupted suddenly, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “Nobody’s looking at us.”
Blaine stopped, puzzled, in front of a painting that depicted one of Dalton’s first principals. “Is what normal?”
Kurt held up their joined hands, a light flush on his cheeks. “This. This... holding hands with nobody looking at us strangely or making lewd comments or -“
Blaine laughed. He had a pleasant laugh, one that sounded warm and not at all mean. “You won’t hear anyone saying things like that here. I thought I’d mentioned that.”
“No.” Kurt glanced down at their joined hands. “You just grabbed my hand and started talking about the school founders.”
“Oh. Well I was getting to it, I’m sure of it. Dalton has a very strict no-bullying policy,” Blaine explained, “it’s part of why my parents sent me here. Because bullying and name calling isn’t tolerated the school has a much more open atmosphere than others. Nobody is going to make fun of us for holding hands, just like if you do go to school here nobody would ever think about bullying you.”
Kurt wasn’t flustered enough to not catch the implication there. Gently he extracted his hand from Blaine’s and instead used it to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “If?” he asked calmly.
Blaine grinned at him. “Administration never asks students to show new kids around. The Warblers also research their competition. There are a few clips of New Directions on youtube, and you do kind of stand out.”
“I’m not a spy,” Kurt told him, then stopped. Because he really wasn’t sure he could explain his presence away otherwise. He couldn’t very well say that he’d come here with his fairy godmother (who was probably listening to everything they said) to find out if Blaine could be his true love.
Luckily for him Blaine didn’t seem convinced. “It’s ok,” he assured Kurt, still smiling, “it’s only fair that you guys get a look at your competition too. I guess you’re just a little more hands on than we are.”
“I guess so.” Then, because Kurt was sometimes (but not always) an accomplished liar, he added; “I guess I was a little obvious.”
“A little,” Blaine chuckled. “So how did you guys decide who should come?”
“I volunteered.” Kurt felt that wasn’t so much a lie as a small stretch of the truth. “I haven’t been having the best of times at school lately, so I thought it might be nice to get away for a day.”
“I understand how that is. My last school wasn’t always a nice place.”
“Bullies?” Kurt suggested, thinking about Dalton’s no-bulling policy.
“Like you have no idea. Anyway,” Blaine said, perking back up again, “what I want to know is how you got hold of one of our uniforms. I know they don’t sell them to anyone not enrolled here.”
“Would you believe me if I said it was magic?”
Blaine laughed. “Ok, don’t tell me. I can respect your secrets.”
“Asshole,” Puck muttered, which Kurt pointedly ignored.
“How about we get some lunch,” Blaine continued, clearly not having heard, “and we can talk some more about our schools and choirs.”
“You’re on your own from here, Princess,” Puck’s voice piped up in Kurt’s left ear. “I’m out of here. If you need me, just say my name.”
“Sure,” Kurt replied, smiling at Blaine, “I’d like that.”