His Perfect Partner (37/?)
Title: His Perfect Partner (37/?)
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Burt/Carole, Tina/Mike, Mercedes/Sam, Brittany/Santana, Rachel/Finn
Spoilers: None, but assume that anything through Season Three is fair game for inspiration.
Word Count: 2018
Summary: After five disappointing seasons on the show, professional dancer Kurt Hummel finally has his chance at ballroom glory. With actress and fan favorite Kim Schrodinger as his partner, Kurt vows to channel all his focus into winning that mirrorball trophy - distractions, including men, be damned. Enter Blaine Anderson, a gorgeous, confusing pop star who may turn out to be the biggest distraction of them all.
In This Chapter: Kurt and Blaine discuss future plans, and Kim and Kurt get rehearsal assistance from a less-than-helpful source.
Author's Note: This is a Dancing with the Stars/Glee crossover AU, in which Kurt grew up dancing and became a professional on the show in his mid-twenties, and Blaine is a pop star with a very private private life. Other familiar Glee faces, some actual DWTS pros, and a couple of OCs appear to round out the cast of characters. I have a master glee post here, or follow my bff's tumblr for updates and fun multi-media extras that will go along with some chapters. Thanks to
samzgurl,
wintercreek, and
gypsyangel25 for the beta as well as for general cheer-leading and fun times.
Though he’d been good on Wednesday and had gotten home for dinner at a respectable hour, on Thursday Kurt didn’t manage to drag himself home until after eleven. Blaine was there, curled up on the couch with notebooks strewn around him as he considered the page in his hands. The sight made Kurt smile, because while Blaine sitting in his living room was no longer remarkable, it was still delightful.
Kurt leaned over the back of the couch for a quick kiss before heading down the hall to dump his stuff and take a shower. It had been a long but productive day, and Kurt was feeling loose and empty for once. Kim had enjoyed learning the lifts more than either of them had expected, taking to flight like she was part bird. The first time he’d flipped her into the foam pit the previous afternoon, she’d giggled just like Molly and demanded that they do it again. Mark had been there to help her perfect her form, and by the time they’d moved to a regular floor, she was a gymnast using Kurt as her own personal vault.
The other lifts were less terrifying though no less physically demanding, but they’d figured out how to make them work for the most part. Tina was coming by the studio Saturday morning to help clean up the routine, and in the meantime Kurt planned to work Kim to death reviewing details of the freestyle and their Argentine tango, which they would repeat as their first dance of the night. It wouldn’t be as fun as learning how to fly, but Kim would just have to deal.
Kurt knew that Maks and Bitsy were doing much the same thing to their partners, so he didn’t feel too bad. Maks called regularly to gloat about his progress with Santana, but Kurt found those calls more comforting than intimidating. Usually they devolved into complaining about how little time they had to perfect way too much dancing. Blaine’s pesky ethics wouldn’t allow him to tell Kurt too much, but Kurt thought it was probably better that way. It was hard enough competing against the man he loved; he didn’t need to know enough details that he could use them against Blaine.
Kurt did know that Bruno would be the judge visiting Blaine and Bitsy’s rehearsal the next day to offer tips, a fact that Blaine found entirely too hilarious. Len was stopping in to visit Santana and Maks, no doubt to lecture Santana on the art of being a lady, while Sue would be by to torture Kim and Kurt. The assignments didn’t surprise him in the least, which annoyed him all the more. He’d tried to get a good rant going about it at lunch, but Blaine had just looked at him, amusement warring with affection on his face, and Kurt’s righteous anger had deflated. Then Blaine had lifted Kurt’s hand and kissed the back of it before smoothly shifting their discussion to more innocuous topics. Blaine had held his hand through the rest of the meal, Kurt remembered, and he’d headed back to rehearsal feeling far happier than he’d arrived.
Kurt went back out into the living room after his shower, planning to take full advantage of Blaine’s ability to cheer him up. Blaine had moved to a cushion on the floor in front of the couch so he could hunch over the pile of papers on the coffee table. He didn’t look up as Kurt sat on the couch behind him, leaning forward so that he could wrap his arms around Blaine’s chest and settle his chin on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Hi, handsome,” Kurt said, smiling when Blaine turned his head for a kiss. “What are you up to?”
“Working on the press release, actually,” Blaine said, indicating a typewritten piece of paper with heavy edits on it. “I wanted your opinion.”
“Oh?” Kurt sat up a little, and Blaine leaned back against his leg and looked up at him.
“I don’t necessarily want to put you right in the middle of it, but I’m not about to pretend I’m single. This is the happy medium I’m working on.” Blaine handed the paper to Kurt, his eyes big and hopeful.
“Ok.” Kurt smiled at him, and then looked down and began to read.
It began with a statement about how much Blaine appreciated that fans and the press had respected his desire not to speak publicly about his private life. And then it went on to talk about how, sometimes, life events happened that made it necessary to reevaluate one’s priorities.
“You see,” it said, in such Blaine-like simple honesty that it made Kurt grin, “I’ve met someone. I’ve met someone and fallen in love and, though I’d like to continue to keep many details of my private life to myself, I think it’s only right to be honest to and about the person I love. So I’m writing today to tell you that I’m gay, and in love, and my boyfriend is the best thing to happen to me in a very long time. Who am I to keep such a wonderful thing a secret?”
There was another paragraph after that, with contact details and the usual press release mumbo jumbo, but Kurt couldn’t be bothered to read it. Instead he put down the paper and turned fully toward Blaine so he could frame his face with his hands.
“I love you,” Kurt said seriously, looking Blaine in the eye. “You’re the best man I know.”
“I love you too,” Blaine said. “So it’s good?”
“Oh it’ll do,” Kurt said impishly, leaning back again. “So will you.”
“Ok, then. Bedtime?” Blaine scrambled to his feet and held out a hand.
“Bedtime,” Kurt confirmed, and he put his hand in Blaine’s.
***
After too little sleep and not quite enough tango rehearsal the next morning, Kurt braced himself for Sue’s arrival. Kim watched him with a smirk while he paced around the studio, compulsively straightening chairs and stacking CDs. Finally, on his third circuit around the room, Kim snagged his hand and made him waltz with her a little while she hummed tunelessly in three-quarter time. It was sort of terrible, but it helped. Until the door opened, and it didn’t.
“No wonder you two barely squeaked through last week,” Sue called as she marched into the room. “We approved one of those tasteless tangos, and you’re in here butchering a waltz.”
“Hi, Sue,” Kurt said, sighing. Kim actually let go of his hands and went across the room to hug her. It was unclear whether he or Sue was more unsettled by that.
“If I want human contact, I will pay for it like a civilized person, Tiny Tim,” Sue barked. She motioned for one of the guys from the camera crew that had followed her in to move a chair to the front of the room, and then sat herself in it like it was a throne. “Now show me what you’ve got before all the human emotion in here makes me want to upchuck all over Porcelain’s overpriced gym bag.”
Neither Kurt nor Kim bothered replying, choosing instead to follow Sue’s instructions and minimize her wrath. They both turned on the intensity, blocking out Sue’s focused glare with their attention to detail. Kim was just as good as ever, fierce and precise without losing the emotive quality of her dancing. Kurt loved performing this routine with her, and they’d even had fun adding an extra lift for some dramatic flair.
“Technically proficient,” Sue snapped once they were done and standing in front of her, still catching their breaths. “Though clearly you could use some work on your stamina, since you’re both breathing like wildebeests. Now show me the freestyle.”
“Seriously?” Kurt asked. Usually, the judges gave a few light pointers for the standard dance and didn’t see the freestyle at all. But then again, this was Sue. She didn’t follow any rules but her own.
“Did I stutter? Freestyle, now!” Sue produced a whistle out of nowhere and blew two sharp tones. Kurt now understood the rumors about Sue’s last assistant filing a workman’s comp claim for PTSD.
Kim and Kurt hustled to comply and then ran haltingly through their freestyle, their lifts shakier than normal due to their overwhelming audience of one. When they finished, Sue stared at them, her nostrils flaring.
“You remind me of baby giraffes who haven’t yet learned to walk, minus the supposedly endearing qualities of youth,” Sue said, beginning to pace in front of them and gear up for a good rant. “You think this is hard? Try performing an aerial act while passing a kidney stone the size of a grapefruit. That’s hard! Amateurs.”
“Any constructive criticism?” Kim asked optimistically. Kurt tried to convey with only his eyes that she’d just done the equivalent of jabbing a sleeping dragon in the eye with a hot poker. Kim didn’t seem fazed.
“Stop sleeping. You only have 77 hours and 43 minutes until performance, and you’ll need every second to turn this into something palatable. For three weeks before I performed my one-woman show for the Sultan of Brunei, I slept 87 minutes a night and ate only pickles, lemon juice, and beef jerky. He told me it was the most astounding presentation he had ever seen,” Sue said.
“I can imagine,” Kurt said in an undertone, and Kim snorted. They both tried to look suitably chastened when Sue cleared her throat and glared at them.
“But, since you don’t have that kind of time or my level of god-given talent, you’ll have to make do with blind luck and repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition!” Sue’s voice grew progressively louder with each word. “Since I’ve been sent to help you, whatever you manage to scrape together will reflect - poorly - on me. Do it again!”
Not wanting to anger her further and risk heart attacks or some sort of international incident, they did. Over and over. By the time she left and they had staggered out of the studio for lunch break, it was after 3, and their stomachs were rumbling so loudly Kurt worried that passing motorists could hear them.
“So this is what sitting feels like,” Kim said. She’d collapsed on the nearest bench the second they got outside.
“Uh huh.” Kurt sat down beside her, equally exhausted. “Do you think someone in this city delivers bubble baths? Because I’m not sure I can move.”
“Your stupidly besotted boyfriend probably does,” Kim said.
“Or your husband. Doesn’t being married mean he automatically has to fix you when you’re broken?” Kurt asked.
“Something like that. But if I call him, he’ll bring the kids. And do you really want Jake demanding that you hold him while Molly attaches herself to your knees right now?” Kim slid down so that her head was in Kurt’s lap and looked up at him.
“God, no.” Kurt fished his cell phone out of his pocket, trying not to jostle Kim too much in the process. “I’m calling Tina and Mike. They owe me for all the times I’ve brought them food during their insane rehearsals.”
Conveniently, Tina and Mike weren’t that far away and were happy to rescue Kim and Kurt with some fish tacos and giant lemonades. They even brought ‘pick me up’ cookies and coffee for Kurt and Kim’s next break, which Tina made them promise to take soon. They’d only be able to rehearse for another few hours anyway, because Kurt’s dad and Carole would be arriving for dinner by 7. After half an hour and far too many tacos, Kim and Kurt managed to drag themselves back into the studio.
“No lifts,” Kurt decided. “I don’t want to drop you on your head. But let’s run footwork until it’s perfect or we have to go.”
“We’ll get it,” Kim said firmly. “And there’s always tomorrow. No worries.”
“Right,” Kurt said, though he didn’t really mean it. Worries were about all he could manage right now. It was going to be a long few days.
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Burt/Carole, Tina/Mike, Mercedes/Sam, Brittany/Santana, Rachel/Finn
Spoilers: None, but assume that anything through Season Three is fair game for inspiration.
Word Count: 2018
Summary: After five disappointing seasons on the show, professional dancer Kurt Hummel finally has his chance at ballroom glory. With actress and fan favorite Kim Schrodinger as his partner, Kurt vows to channel all his focus into winning that mirrorball trophy - distractions, including men, be damned. Enter Blaine Anderson, a gorgeous, confusing pop star who may turn out to be the biggest distraction of them all.
In This Chapter: Kurt and Blaine discuss future plans, and Kim and Kurt get rehearsal assistance from a less-than-helpful source.
Author's Note: This is a Dancing with the Stars/Glee crossover AU, in which Kurt grew up dancing and became a professional on the show in his mid-twenties, and Blaine is a pop star with a very private private life. Other familiar Glee faces, some actual DWTS pros, and a couple of OCs appear to round out the cast of characters. I have a master glee post here, or follow my bff's tumblr for updates and fun multi-media extras that will go along with some chapters. Thanks to
samzgurl,
wintercreek, and
gypsyangel25 for the beta as well as for general cheer-leading and fun times.
Though he’d been good on Wednesday and had gotten home for dinner at a respectable hour, on Thursday Kurt didn’t manage to drag himself home until after eleven. Blaine was there, curled up on the couch with notebooks strewn around him as he considered the page in his hands. The sight made Kurt smile, because while Blaine sitting in his living room was no longer remarkable, it was still delightful.
Kurt leaned over the back of the couch for a quick kiss before heading down the hall to dump his stuff and take a shower. It had been a long but productive day, and Kurt was feeling loose and empty for once. Kim had enjoyed learning the lifts more than either of them had expected, taking to flight like she was part bird. The first time he’d flipped her into the foam pit the previous afternoon, she’d giggled just like Molly and demanded that they do it again. Mark had been there to help her perfect her form, and by the time they’d moved to a regular floor, she was a gymnast using Kurt as her own personal vault.
The other lifts were less terrifying though no less physically demanding, but they’d figured out how to make them work for the most part. Tina was coming by the studio Saturday morning to help clean up the routine, and in the meantime Kurt planned to work Kim to death reviewing details of the freestyle and their Argentine tango, which they would repeat as their first dance of the night. It wouldn’t be as fun as learning how to fly, but Kim would just have to deal.
Kurt knew that Maks and Bitsy were doing much the same thing to their partners, so he didn’t feel too bad. Maks called regularly to gloat about his progress with Santana, but Kurt found those calls more comforting than intimidating. Usually they devolved into complaining about how little time they had to perfect way too much dancing. Blaine’s pesky ethics wouldn’t allow him to tell Kurt too much, but Kurt thought it was probably better that way. It was hard enough competing against the man he loved; he didn’t need to know enough details that he could use them against Blaine.
Kurt did know that Bruno would be the judge visiting Blaine and Bitsy’s rehearsal the next day to offer tips, a fact that Blaine found entirely too hilarious. Len was stopping in to visit Santana and Maks, no doubt to lecture Santana on the art of being a lady, while Sue would be by to torture Kim and Kurt. The assignments didn’t surprise him in the least, which annoyed him all the more. He’d tried to get a good rant going about it at lunch, but Blaine had just looked at him, amusement warring with affection on his face, and Kurt’s righteous anger had deflated. Then Blaine had lifted Kurt’s hand and kissed the back of it before smoothly shifting their discussion to more innocuous topics. Blaine had held his hand through the rest of the meal, Kurt remembered, and he’d headed back to rehearsal feeling far happier than he’d arrived.
Kurt went back out into the living room after his shower, planning to take full advantage of Blaine’s ability to cheer him up. Blaine had moved to a cushion on the floor in front of the couch so he could hunch over the pile of papers on the coffee table. He didn’t look up as Kurt sat on the couch behind him, leaning forward so that he could wrap his arms around Blaine’s chest and settle his chin on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Hi, handsome,” Kurt said, smiling when Blaine turned his head for a kiss. “What are you up to?”
“Working on the press release, actually,” Blaine said, indicating a typewritten piece of paper with heavy edits on it. “I wanted your opinion.”
“Oh?” Kurt sat up a little, and Blaine leaned back against his leg and looked up at him.
“I don’t necessarily want to put you right in the middle of it, but I’m not about to pretend I’m single. This is the happy medium I’m working on.” Blaine handed the paper to Kurt, his eyes big and hopeful.
“Ok.” Kurt smiled at him, and then looked down and began to read.
It began with a statement about how much Blaine appreciated that fans and the press had respected his desire not to speak publicly about his private life. And then it went on to talk about how, sometimes, life events happened that made it necessary to reevaluate one’s priorities.
“You see,” it said, in such Blaine-like simple honesty that it made Kurt grin, “I’ve met someone. I’ve met someone and fallen in love and, though I’d like to continue to keep many details of my private life to myself, I think it’s only right to be honest to and about the person I love. So I’m writing today to tell you that I’m gay, and in love, and my boyfriend is the best thing to happen to me in a very long time. Who am I to keep such a wonderful thing a secret?”
There was another paragraph after that, with contact details and the usual press release mumbo jumbo, but Kurt couldn’t be bothered to read it. Instead he put down the paper and turned fully toward Blaine so he could frame his face with his hands.
“I love you,” Kurt said seriously, looking Blaine in the eye. “You’re the best man I know.”
“I love you too,” Blaine said. “So it’s good?”
“Oh it’ll do,” Kurt said impishly, leaning back again. “So will you.”
“Ok, then. Bedtime?” Blaine scrambled to his feet and held out a hand.
“Bedtime,” Kurt confirmed, and he put his hand in Blaine’s.
***
After too little sleep and not quite enough tango rehearsal the next morning, Kurt braced himself for Sue’s arrival. Kim watched him with a smirk while he paced around the studio, compulsively straightening chairs and stacking CDs. Finally, on his third circuit around the room, Kim snagged his hand and made him waltz with her a little while she hummed tunelessly in three-quarter time. It was sort of terrible, but it helped. Until the door opened, and it didn’t.
“No wonder you two barely squeaked through last week,” Sue called as she marched into the room. “We approved one of those tasteless tangos, and you’re in here butchering a waltz.”
“Hi, Sue,” Kurt said, sighing. Kim actually let go of his hands and went across the room to hug her. It was unclear whether he or Sue was more unsettled by that.
“If I want human contact, I will pay for it like a civilized person, Tiny Tim,” Sue barked. She motioned for one of the guys from the camera crew that had followed her in to move a chair to the front of the room, and then sat herself in it like it was a throne. “Now show me what you’ve got before all the human emotion in here makes me want to upchuck all over Porcelain’s overpriced gym bag.”
Neither Kurt nor Kim bothered replying, choosing instead to follow Sue’s instructions and minimize her wrath. They both turned on the intensity, blocking out Sue’s focused glare with their attention to detail. Kim was just as good as ever, fierce and precise without losing the emotive quality of her dancing. Kurt loved performing this routine with her, and they’d even had fun adding an extra lift for some dramatic flair.
“Technically proficient,” Sue snapped once they were done and standing in front of her, still catching their breaths. “Though clearly you could use some work on your stamina, since you’re both breathing like wildebeests. Now show me the freestyle.”
“Seriously?” Kurt asked. Usually, the judges gave a few light pointers for the standard dance and didn’t see the freestyle at all. But then again, this was Sue. She didn’t follow any rules but her own.
“Did I stutter? Freestyle, now!” Sue produced a whistle out of nowhere and blew two sharp tones. Kurt now understood the rumors about Sue’s last assistant filing a workman’s comp claim for PTSD.
Kim and Kurt hustled to comply and then ran haltingly through their freestyle, their lifts shakier than normal due to their overwhelming audience of one. When they finished, Sue stared at them, her nostrils flaring.
“You remind me of baby giraffes who haven’t yet learned to walk, minus the supposedly endearing qualities of youth,” Sue said, beginning to pace in front of them and gear up for a good rant. “You think this is hard? Try performing an aerial act while passing a kidney stone the size of a grapefruit. That’s hard! Amateurs.”
“Any constructive criticism?” Kim asked optimistically. Kurt tried to convey with only his eyes that she’d just done the equivalent of jabbing a sleeping dragon in the eye with a hot poker. Kim didn’t seem fazed.
“Stop sleeping. You only have 77 hours and 43 minutes until performance, and you’ll need every second to turn this into something palatable. For three weeks before I performed my one-woman show for the Sultan of Brunei, I slept 87 minutes a night and ate only pickles, lemon juice, and beef jerky. He told me it was the most astounding presentation he had ever seen,” Sue said.
“I can imagine,” Kurt said in an undertone, and Kim snorted. They both tried to look suitably chastened when Sue cleared her throat and glared at them.
“But, since you don’t have that kind of time or my level of god-given talent, you’ll have to make do with blind luck and repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition!” Sue’s voice grew progressively louder with each word. “Since I’ve been sent to help you, whatever you manage to scrape together will reflect - poorly - on me. Do it again!”
Not wanting to anger her further and risk heart attacks or some sort of international incident, they did. Over and over. By the time she left and they had staggered out of the studio for lunch break, it was after 3, and their stomachs were rumbling so loudly Kurt worried that passing motorists could hear them.
“So this is what sitting feels like,” Kim said. She’d collapsed on the nearest bench the second they got outside.
“Uh huh.” Kurt sat down beside her, equally exhausted. “Do you think someone in this city delivers bubble baths? Because I’m not sure I can move.”
“Your stupidly besotted boyfriend probably does,” Kim said.
“Or your husband. Doesn’t being married mean he automatically has to fix you when you’re broken?” Kurt asked.
“Something like that. But if I call him, he’ll bring the kids. And do you really want Jake demanding that you hold him while Molly attaches herself to your knees right now?” Kim slid down so that her head was in Kurt’s lap and looked up at him.
“God, no.” Kurt fished his cell phone out of his pocket, trying not to jostle Kim too much in the process. “I’m calling Tina and Mike. They owe me for all the times I’ve brought them food during their insane rehearsals.”
Conveniently, Tina and Mike weren’t that far away and were happy to rescue Kim and Kurt with some fish tacos and giant lemonades. They even brought ‘pick me up’ cookies and coffee for Kurt and Kim’s next break, which Tina made them promise to take soon. They’d only be able to rehearse for another few hours anyway, because Kurt’s dad and Carole would be arriving for dinner by 7. After half an hour and far too many tacos, Kim and Kurt managed to drag themselves back into the studio.
“No lifts,” Kurt decided. “I don’t want to drop you on your head. But let’s run footwork until it’s perfect or we have to go.”
“We’ll get it,” Kim said firmly. “And there’s always tomorrow. No worries.”
“Right,” Kurt said, though he didn’t really mean it. Worries were about all he could manage right now. It was going to be a long few days.