GLEE: Battle Royale (no cheese) (3/3)
Title: Battle Royale (No Cheese) (3/3)
author: infraredphaeton
summary: Aftermath of kissing, Team/Blu are cute, people cry, and Wes decides he's going gay.
warnings: lots of OCs, vaguely OOC now Dalton has been developed. No Eric.
a/n: Thank you so much for being patient with me. I know this has taken forever. I couldn't ask for better readers.
just kissed B. ~K
no way?! -MJ
yeah ~K
get it, boi! -MJ
I just did that’s what I said.;) ~K
so?-MJ
so. ~K
deets!-MJ
it was good. more than good. ~K
OMG Kurt I jst heard tell me evrythng! -t
You’re having a girls night, aren’t you ~K
bring it on and brownie sundaes. -MJ
I would be jealous but obviously my night is better ~K
obvsly. Deets, boi. -MJ
G2G Blaine’s here ~K
i will kno evrythng. -MJ
-of course ~K
Kurt slipped his phone back in his pocket as Blaine came back, carrying two cans of soft drink.
“Diet coke for the gentleman?” Blaine asked, smiling charmingly and offering the can with a bow.
“Thanks, Blaine.” Kurt smiled back, taking the can and cracking the seal.
“Do you want to go back in?” Blaine asked, and Kurt shrugged.
“Sure. That sounds good.”
Blaine smiled nervously, “This is weirdly awkward, isn’t it?”
“Only a little bit.” Kurt said reluctantly, and Blaine’s smile turned charmingly. He offered Kurt his hand again.
“Well, okay, that’s what I was going for.”
“You were going for awkward and nervous?”
“Well, I knew it would be like that anyway. At least this way I knew I’d do what I set out to do.”
Kurt laced their fingers together, smiling.
-
“Hey, Kurt, can we talk to you?” Wes asked, David hanging on his shoulder.
“Sure,” Kurt said, eyeing them, and Wes smiled.
“So we hear you kissed Blaine.”
“...That happened two minutes ago, how do you know?” Kurt asked, as the two boys stood closer.
“Well, Melody was sneaking in the back to ask Harry and his boys to sign her tee shirt and she saw you.” David said, “And Melody told Crissy who told Amanda who told Alyssa.”
“Who told David, because she’s Miranda’s best friend,” Wes nodded.
Kurt nodded slowly, “You have an effective grape vine around here.”
“It’s more like a bullet train, really,” David said, “so, anyway. You kissed Blaine.”
Kurt reddened slightly.
“Aww....Double Oh Adorable is being really adorable.”
“Stay strong, David,” Wes said grimly, putting a hand on David’s shoulder.
David straightened, “Right.”
He coughed, and pointed at Kurt dramatically, “You. Kurt Hummel. Do not hurt our Blaine. Wes knows Krav Maga, and he is not afraid to turn your elbows inside out.”
Wes nodded solemnly.
“Seriously, don’t hurt our friend,” David said, looking at Kurt without a smile, “We like you, but...”
“But not as much as we like Blaine.” Wes continued, when David trailed off.
“Krav Maga,” David reminded Kurt, “and he’s learning capoeira.”
Kurt nodded, holding his phone tightly.
Wes punched Kurt’s shoulder lightly, grinning, “But nice job, man!”
“Kurt and Bla-ine, standing on a balco-ny, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” David sing songed, patting Kurt’s other shoulder.
“Please don’t be ruining my life,” Blaine said, battling his way back through the dancing crowd and smiling at Kurt.
“No, they’re adorable.” Kurt said, smiling back, and Blaine’s grin grew exponentially more charming.
“That’s good. If they were ruining my life, I’d have to do something drastic.”
“Drastic?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I have access to the auxiliary jack and speakers, and a large selection of Katy Perry,” Blaine confided.
“Spare us, oh great and wonderful Blaine!” Wes said, and David clung to him tighter.
“Merciful Blaine, do not inflict the pain of Perry upon us poor, poor unfortunate souls.”
“Unless you show the videos too,” Wes said thoughtfully, and David nodded.
“We do like the videos. Especially I Kissed A Girl.”
“No videos,” Blaine shook his head, “go frolic with the other children, boys. Your parents want some alone time.”
Kurt smiled, leaning against him slightly.
“But Moooooom,” David whined, and Wes rolled his eyes, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulders.
“C’mon David, I’ll buy you some form of salted snack food.”
“Salted snack foods for the win!” David grinned, pulling Wes back into the crowd.
-
"I'm looking for my guitarist," Harry said, swinging around the door frame and looking in at the room.
Pratik was sitting in the middle of five confused band members who looked like they'd just seen the face of God, and he was short, Indian and really loved the Rolling Stones.
"Pratik? We're loading the van."
Pratik nodded, standing up and worming through the group.
"No! What were you saying about chord progressions on the synth?" Bailey asked desperately, and Pratik shrugged.
"Try moving down a fourth."
Harry shot the other frontman a dark look, "Stop trying to steal my guitarist. Pratik, are you ready to go?"
"For a couple of hours/such a beautiful day," Pratik said mildly, and Harry smiled.
"Yeah, it was a good gig."
Pratik nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and followed Harry back out towards the van.
Jim was lounging on the hood of the van, eyes shaded with a pair of white rimmed sunglasses, catching a tan and collecting phone numbers, while Lee loaded the equipment.
“Jim, come on. Help,” Harry said, when he finally got Pratik out of the warren of corridors that made up backstage.
“Lee doesn’t mind. Do you, Sweet thing?”
“Not at fucking all, Jim,” Lee grunted, lifting an amp into the van and shifting it to the back.
“See? He doesn’t mind,” Jim said lazily, reclining back against the hood with a happy sound.
“Jim! This is not cool!” Harry glared, grabbing the other side of the stack Pratik was trying to lift.
“Whatever, Harry, you’ll survive without me, I’m sure.”
“Jim, come help pack, or extra practice tomorrow,” Pratik said quietly, and the blond slipped off the car with a moue of disappointment, heading back to help put the drum cases away.
“How do you do that?” Harry asked, looking at Pratik in awe.
Pratik smiled crookedly.
“I’ve got the magic in me.”
-
“Ready to go home?” Blaine asked, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist. The band currently on stage was a pop-rock outfit similar to Team/Blu called Jack of All Trades, and Blaine swayed slightly to their soft cover of Don’t Look Back in Anger, humming along.
“What time is it?” Kurt answered, leaning back against him slightly, smiling a little.
“Eleven thirty,” Blaine replied, “they’ll keep playing until twelve before the winner is announced. We can stay if you wa-”
“Eleven thirty?” Kurt stiffened, pulling away.
“Yes? Is that a problem?” Blaine blinked, as Kurt straightened his bright green coat, checking the state of his hair in the mirror behind the bar.
“My curfew is eleven forty five if I don’t have special permission,” Kurt explained, “so yes, that’s a problem. Unless we break every speed limit to get me home, and even then, I don’t think that it’s physically possible.”
Blaine just smiled, charmingly, “Speed limit what now?”
“He keeps saying that word,” David added helpfully, pulling a happy looking Wes back out of the crowd, “I don’t it means what he thinks it means.”
“Alright then, Speed Racer. Get me home before I turn into a pumpkin,” Kurt ordered imperiously, grabbing Blaine’s hand.
“I’ll do my best, Cinderella,” Blaine smiled, and they ran off towards the car park.
“Is it just me, or do they look suspiciously like they’re in slow motion?” David asked.
-
“And the winner of tonight’s Battle of the Bands is...” the presenter, a dark haired woman in her early thirties, paused dramatically.
On one side of the stage, Harry bit his lip nervously, and Pratik slipped his hand into his, squeezing tightly. Harry swallowed, turning to look at him, and Pratik offered an encouraging smile.
“Team Blue!”
Pratik winced slightly.
“Yeah, I know. I hate it when they say it wrong too,” Harry murmured, before they were tackled by a hug from Jim, Lee laughing ecstatically as the bassist pulled him into the group hug.
“Congratulations to our winners! And thank you to all the other bands, Pirates vs. Ninjas, Crash Bang Wallop, Jack of All Trades, Callipso, Stop Drop, and Outfit Outlet,” the announcer continued, as the four boys continued to hug each other tightly.
“So, we celebrate with Skittle vodka tonight?” Jim asked softly, and Pratik chuckled.
“We’re underage, Jim,” Harry reminded him, “but it is a celebration...”
“Live a little, kitten,” Jim grinned, and winked at him as the band separated a little bit.
“One drink,” Harry warned, as they filed across the stage to receive the trophy and cheque from the presenter.
“I promise on my mother’s life,” Jim said seriously.
“...Jim, your mom’s dead,” Pratik said mildly into the bassist’s ear, and the blond grinned.
“Oh my, well, in that case, I suppose we can have two drinks! No need to tell kitten, right, Tiki?”
Pratik smiled a little. “Relaxing will do him good.”
“Precisely my thought. Let’s get him wasted and watch him turn into a rather clingy Japanese ground squirrel.”
-
“Wes, your phone’s doing it’s thing where it acts like a bell!” David caroled, tossing the iPhone at his friend, who caught it without looking up from his laptop.
“You mean it’s ringing?”
“That’s the one,” David said, falling onto the couch next to him, “good gig though, right?”
“Awesome,” Wes agreed, “they deserved the win, too.”
“Totally,” David nodded, taking off his shoes and curling up more comfortably.
“Oh, it’s Emika! Shush for a minute, Davey.”
“I see how it is. Picking a girl over me.”
“She has boobs. Grow a pair and come back,” Wes stuck out his tongue, and answered the phone, “hey, Emi!”
David watched in silence as Wes talked, just a few short phrases, getting paler and paler as the conversation went on.
“What do you-”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Ye-”
“No!”
“Well-”
“Fine! Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine! I’ll just send them back to you! Whatever!” Wes hung up and tossed the phone on the table angrily.
“What’s up?” David asked quietly, putting a hand on Wes’ shoulder.
“She’s breaking up with me,” Wes said quietly, voice wobbly.
“Bitch,” David answered immediately, hugging him tightly.
“...Davey, you’re friends. You introduced us, remember?”
“Still a bitch, if she doesn’t realise how awesome you are,” David said stubbornly.
“I have the best best friend ever,” Wes hiccuped, and David pulled him in even closer.
“Damn straight you do. What does she want back?”
“Her photos. She wants me to send her photos back,” Wes said softly, and David grinned, pulling him up and off the couch.
“I have the best idea ever.”
“...Please say it doesn’t involve marshmallow guns this time.”
“I would never suggest such a thing. Time for plan B!”
“What happened to Plan A?” Wes asked, sniffling slightly.
“I would never suggest such a thing!”
-
“Party in my room! Ten minutes. Shower. Get changed. Get sexy,” Jim instructed them, “not you, sweet thing, you’re already sexy enough, I don’t want any spontaneous fires!”
Lee blushed violently.
“Tiki, kitten- sexy. I know you can do it. I believe in you,” Jim said earnestly, and sashayed off towards the Hallman dorms, Lee following at his heels.
“Back to ours then, I guess,” Harry laughed a little, and Pratik nodded, smiling mildly.
“I know who I want to take me home,” he agreed, picking up his guitar case and following Harry as he headed towards the Keiran building.
“You’re bringing your show guitar?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, and Pratik nodded.
“Mellow sound. Music portfolio.”
“Makes sense,” Harry agreed, swiping them in with his card and nodding at Kevin, the hall monitor, who was sitting behind a desk, reading comics.
“Nice night?”
“Awesome, thanks,”
“No problem. I hear you won?” Kevin asked, lowering his comic and looking at the two show-sweaty boys.
“Wow, bullet train’s going fast tonight,” Harry observed, “yeah, we won.”
“And Blaine kissed Kurt, too,” Kevin told them, “it’s all crazy happenings in these parts.”
“Alright, well, we’re off,” Harry jerked his head towards the dorms, “Jim wants to celebrate.”
“Don’t drink the cherry flavour,” Kevin warned, “I still can’t remember what happened that night.”
“O-kay...Bye, Kevin.”
“Toodles, boys.” Kevin waved, raising his comic up again as they headed up the stairs.
Harry unlocked the door, watching Pratik with an amused smile as the other teenager hummed something vaguely poppy and upbeat.
“Home sweet home,” he declared, holding the door open for Pratik.
“It’s good to be back, oh it’s good to be back,” Pratik quoted, smiling meditatively as he carefully leaned his guitar case against the wall by his bed.
“It’s pitch dark in here...” Harry sighed, flipping on the lights, “do you think Liam is- holy fuck.”
Pratik whimpered, eyes wide at the sight in front of him.
His bed was covered in shards of laquered wood, familiar pale yellow-brown wood and curls of metal string crumpled in on itself.
Smashed.
His guitar had been smashed.
“Pratik!” Harry dived and caught the guitarist as his legs gave out, “Pratik, are you okay?”
“...My guitar...”
“Are you okay? You almost fell over!”
“...my guitar, Harry...” Pratik whispered, letting Harry steer him over to his bed and sitting him down.
“Breathe, I’ll...” he looked back towards Pratik’s bed, covered in wooden shards, “I’ll sort this out.”
“...My uncle gave me that guitar when I was twelve,” Pratik said, rubbing at his eyes and letting out an involuntary sob.
“Hey, Pratik, it’ll be okay,” Harry said, pulling him into a hug.
Pratik let out a tiny hurt sound, curling up against him, and Harry felt his shoulder begin to go damp.
“It’ll be okay, I swear. We’ll find out what happened,” Harry said soothingly, running his hand down Pratik’s back.
“M-my guitar...”
“Hey, just...shh. It’ll be okay,” Harry rocked them slightly, kissing the top of Pratik’s head, and then flushing red when he realised what he’d just done.
“B-but, m-my guitar...”
“I’ll take care of everything. Just rest,” Harry repeated.
-
“Why the grin, Seb?” Harry asked, closing the door behind him as he slipped back out into the corridor, trying not to wake Pratik.
Sebastien Hadwick, a junior with short, dark hair and smooth, coffee coloured skin, was known in their year for ignoring house boundaries, was carrying a heavy looking box down the corridor, smiling widely.
“Didn’t you hear?”
“Obviously not,” Harry said, taking the other end of the box Sebastien was trying to move.
“Yeah, it’s awesome- Jonah dropped out, so I have a single now. No way are we getting a mid year transfer,” he shook his head, steering them down the corridor towards his newly vacated room.
“Lucky,” Harry replied automatically, “I don’t mind roommates, but the privacy would be awesome.”
“Damn straight,” Sebastien agreed, and Harry laughed, hitching the box higher as Sebastien kicked the door open.
“And you had a two bed room? Jeeze. Did you win the lottery, too?” Harry asked, and Sebastien’s grin widened.
“I’m thinking of trying tomorrow. Everything else this week has been going surprisingly well.”
“If you win, remember who your friends are, Seb,” Harry said, nudging him with a shoulder.
“I will. Bradley, Cas and Leon will all get a share,” Sebastien replied, smiling angelically.
“See if I ever help you with your crap again, man.”
“You’re too nice to say no,” Sebastien shrugged, and Harry rolled his eyes, “why are you up so late, anyway?”
“Too keyed up to sleep,” Harry said, thinking of Pratik crying and the splinters of wood he’d just spent an hour picking out of his best friend’s bed, “I’m just going to go get a drink and try sleep again. What about you? Moving couldn’t wait til morning?”
“What if someone else colonised?” Sebastien shook his head, “Nope, I had to move quickly.”
“Understandable,” Harry nodded, “Okay. I’m off,” he paused by the door, “hey, did you see anyone in my room earlier?”
“Sorry, man, no. Did something happen?”
“Someone smashed Pratik’s guitar. I was just hoping you might have seen.”
“...Seriously?” Sebastien’s eyes widened, “No, no, I haven’t. But that’s serious. You should report it.”
“I will. Alright, bye, Seb.”
“Good luck finding whoever did it! Ciao, Harry.”
-
“She wasn’t worth it, man,” David said, watching Wes collect the few photos of him and Emika that were scattered around their dorm, “She’s a bitch.”
“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, Davey,” Wes said dully, sighing heavily as he dropped the final heap on his bed.
“Ex-girlfriend, Wes-ster,” David said quietly, and Wes made a strangled sound, turning away from the photos and falling onto David’s bed, letting his friend hug him close.
“It hurts,” he said softly, “I really, really like her, David.”
“I know, Wes,” David rested a hand on Wes’ shoulder, letting him shake against his side.
“It sucks.”
“Damn straight it does.”
Blaine was whistling when he opened the door, but David’s slight frown made him stop halfway through unwinding his scarf and come sit on the bed with them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Emika dumped me,” Wes said miserably, muffled by David’s blazer.
“Woah,” Blaine blinked, and finished taking off his scarf, dropping his coat on the floor and getting onto the bed properly, “if she didn’t realise what a great thing she had with you, she wouldn’t be worth it anyway.”
Wes nodded slowly.
“We’ve got you, Wes,” Blaine said, hugging him tightly from his other side as David squeezed him more tightly.
“Trust us, dude. We’ve got everything under control.”
“I never want to see her again,” Wes told them.
“I can arrange an assassination both efficient and cheap,” David said grimly, and Wes laughed slightly.
“Do you want to play a game or something?” Blaine asked, rubbing soothing circles on the small of Wes’ back.
“...Yeah.’
“Let’s play Katamari Damancy. Rolling people over and LSD graphics are exactly what you need right now,” David suggested, cuddling closer.
Wes nodded slowly, “I want to roll over things. And then I want to shoot things. Then I want to never speak with a girl again. They’re the spawn of the devil.”
“...Slight exaggeration?” David asked, and Wes shook his head vehemently.
“Spawn of the freaking devil, man. Never again.”
“Let’s play Katamari and see how you feel in the morning,” Blaine said, pulling away to unearth the right game system from the tangle around their small TV.
“Blaine, teach me how to be gay. I need to know, because I cannot date another girl, ever again.”
David patted Wes on the back, “We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
“If you still feel this way tomorrow, I’m sure I can provide a master class,” Blaine said sarcastically.
"Shush. We are rolling over things now, not discussing sexual orientation," David commanded.
author: infraredphaeton
summary: Aftermath of kissing, Team/Blu are cute, people cry, and Wes decides he's going gay.
warnings: lots of OCs, vaguely OOC now Dalton has been developed. No Eric.
a/n: Thank you so much for being patient with me. I know this has taken forever. I couldn't ask for better readers.
just kissed B. ~K
no way?! -MJ
yeah ~K
get it, boi! -MJ
I just did that’s what I said.;) ~K
so?-MJ
so. ~K
deets!-MJ
it was good. more than good. ~K
OMG Kurt I jst heard tell me evrythng! -t
You’re having a girls night, aren’t you ~K
bring it on and brownie sundaes. -MJ
I would be jealous but obviously my night is better ~K
obvsly. Deets, boi. -MJ
G2G Blaine’s here ~K
i will kno evrythng. -MJ
-of course ~K
Kurt slipped his phone back in his pocket as Blaine came back, carrying two cans of soft drink.
“Diet coke for the gentleman?” Blaine asked, smiling charmingly and offering the can with a bow.
“Thanks, Blaine.” Kurt smiled back, taking the can and cracking the seal.
“Do you want to go back in?” Blaine asked, and Kurt shrugged.
“Sure. That sounds good.”
Blaine smiled nervously, “This is weirdly awkward, isn’t it?”
“Only a little bit.” Kurt said reluctantly, and Blaine’s smile turned charmingly. He offered Kurt his hand again.
“Well, okay, that’s what I was going for.”
“You were going for awkward and nervous?”
“Well, I knew it would be like that anyway. At least this way I knew I’d do what I set out to do.”
Kurt laced their fingers together, smiling.
-
“Hey, Kurt, can we talk to you?” Wes asked, David hanging on his shoulder.
“Sure,” Kurt said, eyeing them, and Wes smiled.
“So we hear you kissed Blaine.”
“...That happened two minutes ago, how do you know?” Kurt asked, as the two boys stood closer.
“Well, Melody was sneaking in the back to ask Harry and his boys to sign her tee shirt and she saw you.” David said, “And Melody told Crissy who told Amanda who told Alyssa.”
“Who told David, because she’s Miranda’s best friend,” Wes nodded.
Kurt nodded slowly, “You have an effective grape vine around here.”
“It’s more like a bullet train, really,” David said, “so, anyway. You kissed Blaine.”
Kurt reddened slightly.
“Aww....Double Oh Adorable is being really adorable.”
“Stay strong, David,” Wes said grimly, putting a hand on David’s shoulder.
David straightened, “Right.”
He coughed, and pointed at Kurt dramatically, “You. Kurt Hummel. Do not hurt our Blaine. Wes knows Krav Maga, and he is not afraid to turn your elbows inside out.”
Wes nodded solemnly.
“Seriously, don’t hurt our friend,” David said, looking at Kurt without a smile, “We like you, but...”
“But not as much as we like Blaine.” Wes continued, when David trailed off.
“Krav Maga,” David reminded Kurt, “and he’s learning capoeira.”
Kurt nodded, holding his phone tightly.
Wes punched Kurt’s shoulder lightly, grinning, “But nice job, man!”
“Kurt and Bla-ine, standing on a balco-ny, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” David sing songed, patting Kurt’s other shoulder.
“Please don’t be ruining my life,” Blaine said, battling his way back through the dancing crowd and smiling at Kurt.
“No, they’re adorable.” Kurt said, smiling back, and Blaine’s grin grew exponentially more charming.
“That’s good. If they were ruining my life, I’d have to do something drastic.”
“Drastic?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I have access to the auxiliary jack and speakers, and a large selection of Katy Perry,” Blaine confided.
“Spare us, oh great and wonderful Blaine!” Wes said, and David clung to him tighter.
“Merciful Blaine, do not inflict the pain of Perry upon us poor, poor unfortunate souls.”
“Unless you show the videos too,” Wes said thoughtfully, and David nodded.
“We do like the videos. Especially I Kissed A Girl.”
“No videos,” Blaine shook his head, “go frolic with the other children, boys. Your parents want some alone time.”
Kurt smiled, leaning against him slightly.
“But Moooooom,” David whined, and Wes rolled his eyes, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulders.
“C’mon David, I’ll buy you some form of salted snack food.”
“Salted snack foods for the win!” David grinned, pulling Wes back into the crowd.
-
"I'm looking for my guitarist," Harry said, swinging around the door frame and looking in at the room.
Pratik was sitting in the middle of five confused band members who looked like they'd just seen the face of God, and he was short, Indian and really loved the Rolling Stones.
"Pratik? We're loading the van."
Pratik nodded, standing up and worming through the group.
"No! What were you saying about chord progressions on the synth?" Bailey asked desperately, and Pratik shrugged.
"Try moving down a fourth."
Harry shot the other frontman a dark look, "Stop trying to steal my guitarist. Pratik, are you ready to go?"
"For a couple of hours/such a beautiful day," Pratik said mildly, and Harry smiled.
"Yeah, it was a good gig."
Pratik nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and followed Harry back out towards the van.
Jim was lounging on the hood of the van, eyes shaded with a pair of white rimmed sunglasses, catching a tan and collecting phone numbers, while Lee loaded the equipment.
“Jim, come on. Help,” Harry said, when he finally got Pratik out of the warren of corridors that made up backstage.
“Lee doesn’t mind. Do you, Sweet thing?”
“Not at fucking all, Jim,” Lee grunted, lifting an amp into the van and shifting it to the back.
“See? He doesn’t mind,” Jim said lazily, reclining back against the hood with a happy sound.
“Jim! This is not cool!” Harry glared, grabbing the other side of the stack Pratik was trying to lift.
“Whatever, Harry, you’ll survive without me, I’m sure.”
“Jim, come help pack, or extra practice tomorrow,” Pratik said quietly, and the blond slipped off the car with a moue of disappointment, heading back to help put the drum cases away.
“How do you do that?” Harry asked, looking at Pratik in awe.
Pratik smiled crookedly.
“I’ve got the magic in me.”
-
“Ready to go home?” Blaine asked, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist. The band currently on stage was a pop-rock outfit similar to Team/Blu called Jack of All Trades, and Blaine swayed slightly to their soft cover of Don’t Look Back in Anger, humming along.
“What time is it?” Kurt answered, leaning back against him slightly, smiling a little.
“Eleven thirty,” Blaine replied, “they’ll keep playing until twelve before the winner is announced. We can stay if you wa-”
“Eleven thirty?” Kurt stiffened, pulling away.
“Yes? Is that a problem?” Blaine blinked, as Kurt straightened his bright green coat, checking the state of his hair in the mirror behind the bar.
“My curfew is eleven forty five if I don’t have special permission,” Kurt explained, “so yes, that’s a problem. Unless we break every speed limit to get me home, and even then, I don’t think that it’s physically possible.”
Blaine just smiled, charmingly, “Speed limit what now?”
“He keeps saying that word,” David added helpfully, pulling a happy looking Wes back out of the crowd, “I don’t it means what he thinks it means.”
“Alright then, Speed Racer. Get me home before I turn into a pumpkin,” Kurt ordered imperiously, grabbing Blaine’s hand.
“I’ll do my best, Cinderella,” Blaine smiled, and they ran off towards the car park.
“Is it just me, or do they look suspiciously like they’re in slow motion?” David asked.
-
“And the winner of tonight’s Battle of the Bands is...” the presenter, a dark haired woman in her early thirties, paused dramatically.
On one side of the stage, Harry bit his lip nervously, and Pratik slipped his hand into his, squeezing tightly. Harry swallowed, turning to look at him, and Pratik offered an encouraging smile.
“Team Blue!”
Pratik winced slightly.
“Yeah, I know. I hate it when they say it wrong too,” Harry murmured, before they were tackled by a hug from Jim, Lee laughing ecstatically as the bassist pulled him into the group hug.
“Congratulations to our winners! And thank you to all the other bands, Pirates vs. Ninjas, Crash Bang Wallop, Jack of All Trades, Callipso, Stop Drop, and Outfit Outlet,” the announcer continued, as the four boys continued to hug each other tightly.
“So, we celebrate with Skittle vodka tonight?” Jim asked softly, and Pratik chuckled.
“We’re underage, Jim,” Harry reminded him, “but it is a celebration...”
“Live a little, kitten,” Jim grinned, and winked at him as the band separated a little bit.
“One drink,” Harry warned, as they filed across the stage to receive the trophy and cheque from the presenter.
“I promise on my mother’s life,” Jim said seriously.
“...Jim, your mom’s dead,” Pratik said mildly into the bassist’s ear, and the blond grinned.
“Oh my, well, in that case, I suppose we can have two drinks! No need to tell kitten, right, Tiki?”
Pratik smiled a little. “Relaxing will do him good.”
“Precisely my thought. Let’s get him wasted and watch him turn into a rather clingy Japanese ground squirrel.”
-
“Wes, your phone’s doing it’s thing where it acts like a bell!” David caroled, tossing the iPhone at his friend, who caught it without looking up from his laptop.
“You mean it’s ringing?”
“That’s the one,” David said, falling onto the couch next to him, “good gig though, right?”
“Awesome,” Wes agreed, “they deserved the win, too.”
“Totally,” David nodded, taking off his shoes and curling up more comfortably.
“Oh, it’s Emika! Shush for a minute, Davey.”
“I see how it is. Picking a girl over me.”
“She has boobs. Grow a pair and come back,” Wes stuck out his tongue, and answered the phone, “hey, Emi!”
David watched in silence as Wes talked, just a few short phrases, getting paler and paler as the conversation went on.
“What do you-”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Ye-”
“No!”
“Well-”
“Fine! Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine! I’ll just send them back to you! Whatever!” Wes hung up and tossed the phone on the table angrily.
“What’s up?” David asked quietly, putting a hand on Wes’ shoulder.
“She’s breaking up with me,” Wes said quietly, voice wobbly.
“Bitch,” David answered immediately, hugging him tightly.
“...Davey, you’re friends. You introduced us, remember?”
“Still a bitch, if she doesn’t realise how awesome you are,” David said stubbornly.
“I have the best best friend ever,” Wes hiccuped, and David pulled him in even closer.
“Damn straight you do. What does she want back?”
“Her photos. She wants me to send her photos back,” Wes said softly, and David grinned, pulling him up and off the couch.
“I have the best idea ever.”
“...Please say it doesn’t involve marshmallow guns this time.”
“I would never suggest such a thing. Time for plan B!”
“What happened to Plan A?” Wes asked, sniffling slightly.
“I would never suggest such a thing!”
-
“Party in my room! Ten minutes. Shower. Get changed. Get sexy,” Jim instructed them, “not you, sweet thing, you’re already sexy enough, I don’t want any spontaneous fires!”
Lee blushed violently.
“Tiki, kitten- sexy. I know you can do it. I believe in you,” Jim said earnestly, and sashayed off towards the Hallman dorms, Lee following at his heels.
“Back to ours then, I guess,” Harry laughed a little, and Pratik nodded, smiling mildly.
“I know who I want to take me home,” he agreed, picking up his guitar case and following Harry as he headed towards the Keiran building.
“You’re bringing your show guitar?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, and Pratik nodded.
“Mellow sound. Music portfolio.”
“Makes sense,” Harry agreed, swiping them in with his card and nodding at Kevin, the hall monitor, who was sitting behind a desk, reading comics.
“Nice night?”
“Awesome, thanks,”
“No problem. I hear you won?” Kevin asked, lowering his comic and looking at the two show-sweaty boys.
“Wow, bullet train’s going fast tonight,” Harry observed, “yeah, we won.”
“And Blaine kissed Kurt, too,” Kevin told them, “it’s all crazy happenings in these parts.”
“Alright, well, we’re off,” Harry jerked his head towards the dorms, “Jim wants to celebrate.”
“Don’t drink the cherry flavour,” Kevin warned, “I still can’t remember what happened that night.”
“O-kay...Bye, Kevin.”
“Toodles, boys.” Kevin waved, raising his comic up again as they headed up the stairs.
Harry unlocked the door, watching Pratik with an amused smile as the other teenager hummed something vaguely poppy and upbeat.
“Home sweet home,” he declared, holding the door open for Pratik.
“It’s good to be back, oh it’s good to be back,” Pratik quoted, smiling meditatively as he carefully leaned his guitar case against the wall by his bed.
“It’s pitch dark in here...” Harry sighed, flipping on the lights, “do you think Liam is- holy fuck.”
Pratik whimpered, eyes wide at the sight in front of him.
His bed was covered in shards of laquered wood, familiar pale yellow-brown wood and curls of metal string crumpled in on itself.
Smashed.
His guitar had been smashed.
“Pratik!” Harry dived and caught the guitarist as his legs gave out, “Pratik, are you okay?”
“...My guitar...”
“Are you okay? You almost fell over!”
“...my guitar, Harry...” Pratik whispered, letting Harry steer him over to his bed and sitting him down.
“Breathe, I’ll...” he looked back towards Pratik’s bed, covered in wooden shards, “I’ll sort this out.”
“...My uncle gave me that guitar when I was twelve,” Pratik said, rubbing at his eyes and letting out an involuntary sob.
“Hey, Pratik, it’ll be okay,” Harry said, pulling him into a hug.
Pratik let out a tiny hurt sound, curling up against him, and Harry felt his shoulder begin to go damp.
“It’ll be okay, I swear. We’ll find out what happened,” Harry said soothingly, running his hand down Pratik’s back.
“M-my guitar...”
“Hey, just...shh. It’ll be okay,” Harry rocked them slightly, kissing the top of Pratik’s head, and then flushing red when he realised what he’d just done.
“B-but, m-my guitar...”
“I’ll take care of everything. Just rest,” Harry repeated.
-
“Why the grin, Seb?” Harry asked, closing the door behind him as he slipped back out into the corridor, trying not to wake Pratik.
Sebastien Hadwick, a junior with short, dark hair and smooth, coffee coloured skin, was known in their year for ignoring house boundaries, was carrying a heavy looking box down the corridor, smiling widely.
“Didn’t you hear?”
“Obviously not,” Harry said, taking the other end of the box Sebastien was trying to move.
“Yeah, it’s awesome- Jonah dropped out, so I have a single now. No way are we getting a mid year transfer,” he shook his head, steering them down the corridor towards his newly vacated room.
“Lucky,” Harry replied automatically, “I don’t mind roommates, but the privacy would be awesome.”
“Damn straight,” Sebastien agreed, and Harry laughed, hitching the box higher as Sebastien kicked the door open.
“And you had a two bed room? Jeeze. Did you win the lottery, too?” Harry asked, and Sebastien’s grin widened.
“I’m thinking of trying tomorrow. Everything else this week has been going surprisingly well.”
“If you win, remember who your friends are, Seb,” Harry said, nudging him with a shoulder.
“I will. Bradley, Cas and Leon will all get a share,” Sebastien replied, smiling angelically.
“See if I ever help you with your crap again, man.”
“You’re too nice to say no,” Sebastien shrugged, and Harry rolled his eyes, “why are you up so late, anyway?”
“Too keyed up to sleep,” Harry said, thinking of Pratik crying and the splinters of wood he’d just spent an hour picking out of his best friend’s bed, “I’m just going to go get a drink and try sleep again. What about you? Moving couldn’t wait til morning?”
“What if someone else colonised?” Sebastien shook his head, “Nope, I had to move quickly.”
“Understandable,” Harry nodded, “Okay. I’m off,” he paused by the door, “hey, did you see anyone in my room earlier?”
“Sorry, man, no. Did something happen?”
“Someone smashed Pratik’s guitar. I was just hoping you might have seen.”
“...Seriously?” Sebastien’s eyes widened, “No, no, I haven’t. But that’s serious. You should report it.”
“I will. Alright, bye, Seb.”
“Good luck finding whoever did it! Ciao, Harry.”
-
“She wasn’t worth it, man,” David said, watching Wes collect the few photos of him and Emika that were scattered around their dorm, “She’s a bitch.”
“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, Davey,” Wes said dully, sighing heavily as he dropped the final heap on his bed.
“Ex-girlfriend, Wes-ster,” David said quietly, and Wes made a strangled sound, turning away from the photos and falling onto David’s bed, letting his friend hug him close.
“It hurts,” he said softly, “I really, really like her, David.”
“I know, Wes,” David rested a hand on Wes’ shoulder, letting him shake against his side.
“It sucks.”
“Damn straight it does.”
Blaine was whistling when he opened the door, but David’s slight frown made him stop halfway through unwinding his scarf and come sit on the bed with them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Emika dumped me,” Wes said miserably, muffled by David’s blazer.
“Woah,” Blaine blinked, and finished taking off his scarf, dropping his coat on the floor and getting onto the bed properly, “if she didn’t realise what a great thing she had with you, she wouldn’t be worth it anyway.”
Wes nodded slowly.
“We’ve got you, Wes,” Blaine said, hugging him tightly from his other side as David squeezed him more tightly.
“Trust us, dude. We’ve got everything under control.”
“I never want to see her again,” Wes told them.
“I can arrange an assassination both efficient and cheap,” David said grimly, and Wes laughed slightly.
“Do you want to play a game or something?” Blaine asked, rubbing soothing circles on the small of Wes’ back.
“...Yeah.’
“Let’s play Katamari Damancy. Rolling people over and LSD graphics are exactly what you need right now,” David suggested, cuddling closer.
Wes nodded slowly, “I want to roll over things. And then I want to shoot things. Then I want to never speak with a girl again. They’re the spawn of the devil.”
“...Slight exaggeration?” David asked, and Wes shook his head vehemently.
“Spawn of the freaking devil, man. Never again.”
“Let’s play Katamari and see how you feel in the morning,” Blaine said, pulling away to unearth the right game system from the tangle around their small TV.
“Blaine, teach me how to be gay. I need to know, because I cannot date another girl, ever again.”
David patted Wes on the back, “We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
“If you still feel this way tomorrow, I’m sure I can provide a master class,” Blaine said sarcastically.
"Shush. We are rolling over things now, not discussing sexual orientation," David commanded.