GLEE:Can We Stop Talking About Him Yet?
Title: Can We Stop Talking About Him Yet?
author: infraredphaeton
summary: There's a duet competition. ...And some strangeness
warnings:make out scenes, OCs, Eric, youtube links
rating: PG-15 for mild sex
“Look,” Blaine said, smiling apologetically at Kurt as his boyfriend stabbed a grapefruit angrily, “we’ll just have to make the best of it. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, anyway, and Mr Matthews was right to take action and show that our actions have consequences.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.
“Jeeze, Blainemeister, did you swallow a self help book in your sleep or something?” David asked, and Blaine rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his oatmeal.
“No, I’m just more mature than you.”
“Dude, you were up until 2AM doing your Spanish homework,” Wes said, shaking his head.
“Emotionally more mature,” Blaine qualified, “but seriously, Kurt, you should talk to Gary. He’s a great guy, and he’ll be a brilliant partner. You should give him a chance.”
Kurt hummed noncommittally, and Blaine put his hand over Kurt’s, ducking his head to catch his eye.
“Hey, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll have other duets. You’ll have fun...” his smile soured, “you’ll be better off than I will be, that’s for sure.”
“Oh?”
“Jim decided our song, and I can’t be bothered to argue,” Blaine explained, taking another bite of oatmeal, “where he takes the front, mostly, and I harmonise. It sounds great, of course, we have good voices, but still.”
“Our Blaine prefers to be front and centre,” Wes nodded.
“He likes the attention,” David added.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Okay,” Kurt nodded, straightening his tie, “I’ll talk to Gary. And we’ll come up with something that’ll leave you in the dust.”
---
“Gary?” Kurt knocked on the geek’s door, “Are you in? I want to talk about duets.”
He sighed, shifting his weight, and the door opened, “Oh, there you are, good. Now, I know this probably isn’t what you were hoping for- I definitely had someone else in mind to duet with, but I’m sure we’ll manage. So- Jim?”
“Morning, Hummel,” Jim grinned, straightening his tie, and turned back towards the inside of the room, “No, baby, it’s just the new kid, here to talk about musical theory and how evil I am for provoking his boyfriend, I’d guess.”
Gary, sleep rumpled, his dark curls in a wild halo, appeared behind Jim, and pressed a kiss to the blond’s cloth covered shoulder.
They were both fully dressed at least, Kurt noticed, although Gary was significantly rumpled, and both had obvious hickeys along their necks. The dark haired boy was eyeing Jim with an almost possessive look, and the blond looked as happy as a cat with a bowl of cream.
“Out, you menace,” he said fondly, “I have a duet competition to win.”
Jim pouted, leaning back into the kiss, “But Gary...”
“Out,” Gary repeated, nipping him, and swatted his ass. Jim laughed, smiling happily, and swung out the door, past Kurt, “I’ll see you tonight, anyway.”
“Careful, Hummel, you’ll catch flies like that,” Jim said, sauntering past him, and Gary shook his head, watching the Hallman boy walk away.
“Come in, Kurt,” Gary held open the door, and Kurt smiled uneasily, entering the room.
Gary, unlike most Keiran boys, had a single, and his bed was pushed up against the side of the room to make room for the intimidatingly huge tangle of cables, TV and computer that covered almost half the room. Clothes were piled in one corner, and posters- one Team Fortress 2, one Halo, one Half-Life, and something anime-ish that seemed to be called Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side- were hung on the walls. The curtains were drawn, too, giving it an almost cave like feel, but somehow, Kurt thought, taking a prim seat on Gary’s desk chair as the dark haired boy sprawled on his rumpled bed, it was still comfortable and almost welcoming.
“So...” Kurt trailed off, and Gary ran a hand through his hair.
“Are you going to be weird about me and Jim?” he asked absently, crossing his legs, and Kurt reddened slightly.
“Look, I just want to know what on Earth would make you ever want to do anything with him other than glare disdainfully. You’re Blaine’s friend, aren’t you?”
“We’re not close,” Gary shrugged, “we hang out with very different crowds. But yeah, we’re friends. As for Jim...have you ever even talked to him?”
Kurt rolled his eyes, undoing his satchel and pulling out a sheaf of sheet music, “I don’t see how that affects anything.”
Gary smiled a little, sitting up, “glass houses, dude. You can’t judge a guy you’ve never even talked to.”
“All I’ve seen of him is him being a complete...urgh, a complete ass without provocation. I don’t think I want to talk to someone like that, unless it’s to deliver a verbal bitchslap he will never forget.”
“His best friend’s brother has been in a horrible car collision, and had to leave the country in a hurry yesterday morning,” Gary revealed, his green eyes fixed on Kurt as the other boy’s face changed, “they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Kurt’s shocked expression faded as his eyes caught on the hickey on Gary’s neck again, “so he went out and slept with someone? Yeah, he’s clearly suffering.”
Gary sat up, frowning, “Let’s just work on the duet, and keep Jim out of it, shall we?”
“Sure,” Kurt agreed, and Gary pulled a laptop out from under his bed.
“Shall we youtube?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Actually, I already have a song idea,” Gary told him, beginning to type and click through without looking away from Kurt, “if you want to give it a listen?”
“Well, I suppose. I have very definite ideas on what I sing, though, so I probably won’t agree,” Kurt warned, coming over to sit next to Gary as the video loaded.
---
“Do you think we can do techno acapella?” David asked Wes.
“I think we can definitely do techno acapella, don’t you, Blaine?” Wes poked Blaine in the ribs, but the other boy just swatted his hand, frowning at the empty air, “Blaine, your blazer collection is on fire!”
Blaine didn’t react, and Wes and David looked at each other, nodded, and shifted in to lean against Blaine.
“What’s wrong, Blaine-meister?”
Blaine bit his lip, relaxing against Wes as David curled closer on his other side, squishing him between them.
“Jim Bond.”
“Are we talking about your fruitless crushes again, Anderson?” asked an arch, vaguely accented voice from above them, and Blaine tensed, “because while I do swing that way, I would rather pour acid in my eyes than even consider the thought.”
“Why are you in Keiran, Bond?” Blaine ground out, and Wes put a soothing hand on his shoulder. Blaine’s shoulder was like rock, and Wes swiped his thumb along the line of his muscle, aiming a concerned look at David.
“I was with Gary,” Jim said sweetly, “who has been my rock in this difficult time.”
“Yeah...I heard about Lee, Bond, I’m sor-” Blaine’s expression softened, and he smiled apologetically at the blond.
“No, not that,” Jim snapped, hands clenching on the strap of his bag, “I meant being partnered to you.”
“Of course you did.”
Jim offered him another poisonous smile, and swayed towards the exit.
“Well. Come on, then. I don’t have all day.”
“What?” Blaine frowned, and Jim rolled his eyes.
“Duet competition? Ringing any bells? Hurry up, Anderson. I have a schedule to fit.”
“Oh,” Blaine muttered under his breath, untangling himself from Wes and David, “yeah, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your rigidly regulated screwing timetable.”
“You really need to learn how to mutter, Anderson,” Jim observed, and Blaine flushed, following him out of the common room.
“Maybe you need to learn to stop listening in on my conversations.”
“Maybe you should stop talking about me!”
“Maybe you should just stop!”
“Stop what, Anderson? Being better than you in every way?”
“Stop being such a-”
The common room door closed behind them, and David looked at Wes, blinking.
“This is not going to end well.”
“Not even slightly.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Wes said, fiddling with the ring on his finger, “to...”
“The weather?” David suggested, and Wes rolled his eyes.
“What are you, British?”
Ben made an unhappy noise from his chair, looking up over his copy of Alice in Wonderland.
“No offence meant, Ben,” Wes apologised quickly, and David snickered.
“None taken,” Ben said grouchily, and turned a page.
“No, I thought we should talk duets. And techno,” Wes specified, and David grinned, eyes lighting up.
“We need a tech-spert, don’t we?” David asked, and Wes nodded.
“Ben!”
“Oh sweet! In sync again!”
---
“So, how’s your brother?”
Lee swallowed, pacing up and down the rain slick pavement outside the hospital doors, “Fucking fantastic, Jim, really. He does so fucking well with huge vehicle collisions. Always has.”
He sighed, breathing in a lungful of cigarette smoke, and slumped against the wall, “There’s no fucking news. He’s been in surgery for eight hours now.”
“Eight hours? Fuck.”
He laughed harshly, sliding down the wall so he was sitting on the pavement, “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Lee closed his eyes, “I’m really fucking worried, Jim. What if he’s not okay? What if he...”
“Quite frankly,” said Jim’s arch voice, a little crackly from the long distance connection, “the most he will have to worry about is missing school. Don’t fuss so, sweet thing. He’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Jim, my little fucking brother is in fucking surgery, don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Lee hissed, “I’m not in the fucking mood for your bull shit today, okay? Ruari comes first.”
There was a silence from the other side of the line, and Lee gritted his teeth.
Fantastic. First, his brother was in life-threatening surgery, and now he’d pissed off Jim. That was just fucking fantastic.
“...Lee?”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Jim, I didn’t-”
“No,” Jim’s voice sounded distant and thoughtful, “that was fair. Can you do something for me, love?”
“Fucking anything, you know that,” Lee promised, standing up and brushing off the back of his trousers.
“Go to the nurse’s station, and ask if there’s anywhere you can wash.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jim said, and his voice lost the strange, dreamy sound, “go ask.”
Lee shrugged, picking up his backpack, and trudged into the hospital.
“And get changed, sweet thing. Two day old private school uniform does not look good on anyone. Except me, probably. I look good in everything.”
Lee smiled slightly.
“Did I tell you about this bullshit with Anderson?”
“Is the fucktard giving you trouble? I’ll fucking mash him if he touches you, Jim, I swear to god.”
There was a second of silence, as Jim considered the idea.
“No. You stick to worrying about your brother, love. I’ll deal with Anderson.”
“Don’t set him on fire, Jim.”
“I won’t. That’s your job.”
--
“You’re here a lot, aren’t you?”
Ben blinked, looking up from his book, to see an unfamiliar guy standing in front of him- he was wearing a Keiran pin, and had short black hair and a pleasant smile, so Ben didn’t lift his book again, instead offering him an unsure smile.
“Ah, yeah. I’m...don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but I’m hiding from Wes and David,” Ben said, running a hand through his hair, and the other guy laughed lightly, falling onto the couch next to him.
“They’re kind of crazy sometimes, aren’t they?”
“Only sometimes?” Ben raised an eyebrow, and the guy- who looked vaguely familiar, he must have spent time in the library before or something- laughed again, turning towards him.
“Okay, all the time. You have a point. I’m Sebastien, by the way. But my friends call me Seb.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben.”
Naturally, because Ben was about as awkward as a cat that had found itself at the top of a tree with no way to get down, he offered his hand.
Seb looked at him strangely, but before Ben could pull back, stretched out his own, and they shook.
“...I can’t help it,” Ben said, flushing slightly, “I’m British. We’re formal. It’s what we do.”
Seb just kept grinning, “Well, you’re busy, and I have a math portfolio to work on. So, nice to meet you, Ben.”
Ben nodded, “You too, Sebastien.”
“Seb, remember?” Seb said, standing up and heading for the door, “My friends call me Seb.”
Ben watched him leave, leaning the open edge of his book against his lips to hide his smile. It was...nice, he decided, to meet someone else. Dalton seemed so small, sometimes, too full of huge personalities, and it was really...nice...to think that someone had decided he was worth talking to instead of one of those other brighter sparks.
“You thought you’d managed to hide, didn’t you?”
Ben froze, turning around, and smiled nervously, “Hey...Wes, David...how’s it going?”
David smiled, putting an arm around Wes’ shoulders, “Never go into competitive hide and seek, Ben, it won’t end well.”
“That exists?”
“Of course it does,” Wes shook his head, “Oh, you poor, poor boy. If you showed talent, we would offer to take you with us next time.”
“But you kind of suck. I mean, we all know you spend every lunch and break in the library, Ben. Most obvious place to hide, much?”
“You’re as bad as Seb, honestly,” Wes said, grabbing Ben’s left arm as David grabbed his right, pulling him up and out of his seat, “always in the library.”
“But that’s a new thing, Wes-ster,” David reminded him, “it’s only been the last month or so, right?”
“Right,” Wes nodded, “stop trying to sneak off, Ben.”
Ben froze, “...never.”
“Come teach us how to techno, Ben,” David wheedled.
“Teach us your techno-y ways, Ben.”
“Help us, Obi-wan Benobi, you’re our only hope!”
“...Oh god, please stop talking.”
“That’s a yes!” Wes crowed.
“He’s like Blainers, he speaks in nos and I hate yous!” David agreed, and Ben let them pull him out of the library, smiling at Mrs. Neog as they passed the circulation desk.
“It’s adorable, even if we already have one,” Wes nodded, “he can be our substitute Blaine!”
“Kurt is our substitute Blaine, though,” David reminded him, “he can be our substitute substitute Blaine.”
“Surely no more prestigious a title exists,” Ben put in, and David smacked him on the back.
“C’mon, Subsub, let’s go techno!”
“Can you use techno as a verb?” Wes wondered.
“Well, I can,” David told him loftily, as they pulled Ben along the corridor, “because I’m special.”
“Lord save me from stupid yanks.”
---
“So,” Kurt asked, taking a seat opposite Blaine and pushing his coffee over, “what’s it like?”
Blaine frowned, turning his coffee cup between his palms, “Working with Jim? Impossible. He’s always a pain, but without Lee around, he’s...unbearable.”
Kurt hooked his ankle around Blaine’s, “Well, I’d be pretty unbearable if you had to go to Ireland for some reason in the middle of the year.”
Blaine smiled a little, looking up and into Kurt’s eyes, “Yeah, I know. I’d be the same.”
He reached out, catching Kurt’s hand in his, twining their fingers together, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“The difference, I suppose,” Blaine said, as they threw away their empty coffee cups, “is that Lee and Jim aren’t together.”
“Really?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “I got the feeling that Jim was...” he paused for a second, trying to think of a polite way to put it, and gave up, “kind of a slut.”
“Oh, he is,” Blaine nodded, opening the door for Kurt, “but Lee Dwyre is probably the only person at this school who can say he hasn’t slept with Jim Bond.”
“Seriously?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “The entire school? That’s kind of an exaggeration, isn’t it? Most of the guys here are straight, aren’t they?”
“Jim doesn’t ‘count’, apparently,” Blaine said, shrugging, “see, watch- hey, uh, Andrew.”
He tapped a passing junior on the shoulder, and the boy turned around.
“What?”
“Have you slept with Jim Bond?”
“Duh.” The blond rolled his eyes, and walked off.
“See?”
“That’s got to be an anomaly,” Kurt shook his head, “I’ll pick someone.”
After ten minutes of asking around, Kurt gave up.
“Seriously. Everyone at this school? Everyone?”
He eyed Blaine thoughtfully, “Everyone?”
His boyfriend looked vaguely nauseated, “Oh, hell no. Never. Not if my life depended on it.”
“Good to hear it, Anderson,” came a voice from further up the staircase, and Blaine shut his eyes, wincing.
“Tell me that isn’t Jim.”
“I try not to lie,” Kurt replied, nodding at the blond, who returned the gesture, “what’s good to hear, Jim?”
“That Anderson wouldn’t think of revealing his duet to you. Despite your relationship, this is a competition, and I’m terribly competitive,” Jim said airily, swaying down the stairs.
“If you think I need help to beat you, you must be insane,” Kurt said, smiling icily, “or deaf.”
“No, not deaf, just uninterested in worshipping at the alter of Anderson, or his arm candy,” Jim returned the smile, equally fake.
“Arm candy? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Well, I was put on the spot rather abruptly,” Jim said, eyes widening with mock hurt, “I didn’t expect to be attacked when I came to get my duet partner for practice.”
“I’m on a date, Jim,” Blaine said, not bothering, for once, to smile charmingly. Instead, he looked irritated, and aimed a half-glare at the blond, who completely ignored it.
“And I’m on a schedule, as I’ve told you before. The competition ends tomorrow, Anderson, and while you may enjoy frittering your time away on useless pursuits-”
Blaine gritted his teeth, and Kurt put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.
“I don’t. I have things to do. Come al-”
“What a shame,” Kurt interrupted, “I’m sure we’re very sorry to delay you. I’ll get Blaine to you in, say, an hour?”
Without waiting for a reply, he hooked his arm through his boyfriend’s, and tugged him out the door, into the crisp autumn air.
---
“Hello?” Eric eyed his cell phone warily.
Liam was sitting right next to him, and his mother was not meant to call him until Saturday.
“Hi, Eric?”
The dulcet tones of an angel came from his phone.
“...Rachel?”
“Oh, good, I have the right number. Did you know that you’re not listed in the school directory?” Rachel asked, voice bright, and Eric felt himself grin like an idiot.
Liam eyed him with worry, and Eric mouthed ‘Rachel’ at him.
“Yes, I bribed Gary to take me out of the system,” Eric replied, “why are you calling?”
“I recently broke up with my boyfriend,” Rachel told him.
Eric heard a halleloujah chorus in his mind, and Liam raised an eyebrow, worried at the unfamiliar dopey smile on his best friend’s face.
“That’s a shame, Rachel,” Eric said happily.
“Yes, so, as you made your interest clear the last time I saw you, when you presented me with thirty two long stemmed roses-”
“Did you like them?”
“I need to get used to fans giving me gifts,” Rachel declared diplomatically, “anyway, would you like to take me out to dinner?”
“Yes. Yes I would. Yes, please,” Eric nodded rapidly, grin irrepressible, “Dinner would be great.”
“Perfect. Pick me up at six, and be prepared to sing a duet with me, preferably from a Streisand movie,” Rachel ordered him, and hung up.
“Liam?” Eric asked faintly.
“Eric, are you okay? What’s going on?” Liam leaned in, brow creased with worry.
“I need you to see if I am suffering from auditory hallucinations. And also help me get ready for a date with Rachel Berry.”
---
“So, how’s Lee?” Blaine asked, wandering around the edge of the practice room, “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Jim said shortly, cueing up the song again, “why do you have to keep trying to talk to me? I find your voice grating and irritating, like some kind of ground squirrel that has learned English and is desperately trying to sign a recording contract with Disney.”
“Fine,” Blaine said sharply, “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Well, don’t,” Jim replied, and pressed play.
---
Kurt rapped on the door to Pratik’s shared room, smiling slightly as the guitarist stared at his shoes.
“You don’t have to knock,” Pratik said quietly, “he’s playing Revolver, so he isn’t studying.”
“You know what music he’d be playing if he was studying?” Kurt asked, hand on the doorknob, and Pratik nodded, going a dull red colour.
“Abbey Road for science, Help! for math, The White Album for English, and-”
“Love for everything else,” Harry finished, putting down his imported copy of NME, “Hey, Kurt.”
Pratik toed off his shoes, rolling his toes in the carpet, and sat down on his bed, gesturing Kurt to sit next to him.
“You walked him back from math?” Harry didn’t quite ask, and Kurt blinked.
It was like he’d missed a conversation, although neither of the other boys had talked.
“Yeah,” Kurt nodded, “he had too many books to carry easily.”
“And Bradley Morrigan was being an utter douche,” Harry continued, and Pratik looked away, fiddling with the toe of his obnoxiously neon green socks, “and he made fun of you again.”
For the second half of the statement, he turned to face Pratik, who shrugged half heartedly, reaching across the bed to pick up his guitar.
“And you still aren’t going to let me report him, are you?”
“There isn’t much to report,” Kurt said, and it felt like an interruption, “he doesn’t actually do anything, you know?”
“I know,” Harry said grimly, and Pratik began to pick at his guitar, little ripples and arpeggios that somehow didn’t seem intrusive, as though they were part of the conversation, “but I’m equally sure that if Pratik would actually complain, we could do something about it- yes, I know you don’t want to, but...fine.”
Kurt blinked.
As far as he could tell, Pratik hadn’t even moved, but Harry was frowning as though he’d been interrupted mid-flow.
“Well, anyway,” Harry shook his head, “it’s appreciated, Kurt. Pratik’s thankful too, if he didn’t say it.”
Pratik smiled apologetically, shrugging, and Kurt waved it off with one well manicured hand, standing up, “I’m used to far more Neanderthal-esque flavour of bully, but I’m still far more practiced than many of you, I’d think. It was my pleasure, really.”
He picked up his bag, nodding to Pratik, who waved a little, and headed for the door.
“It was nice seeing you!” Harry called after him absently, already focused on Pratik, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Pratik shrugged again, playing with the strings on his new guitar.
It was yellow wood, a little more brightly varnished than his old one, and although he’d chosen to stick with steel strings, for some reason the chords still felt different when he framed them. The gauge was the same, the body size was the same...but it wasn’t the same.
Harry reached across, catching his hand, and smiled, rubbing his thumb along the line of Pratik’s knuckles.
“Hey. It’s a good guitar. I helped you pick, remember?”
Pratik nodded.
“I know it’s not the same. Your uncle gave you your guitar, and the guy who smashed it was a total ass for doing it, but it happens. We’ll find out who did it, and he’ll get expelled, and everything will be fine.”
Pratik cleared his throat lightly, turning his hand over in Harry’s grip to lace their fingers together.
“You always make me feel better,” he said quietly, and Harry smiled, “thank you.”
“So, we need to talk about a duet, don’t we?” Harry said, “After all, we want to win this competition, right?”
Pratik nodded.
He didn’t let go.
---
“So, tell me, Anderson, how much does your boyfriend know?” Jim asked lightly, fingers skipping over the buttons on the equaliser.
“What?” Blaine looked up from his sheet music, “Don’t bring Kurt into this, Jim, we talked about it already.”
“Look, I just want to know if we need to revise our entire song because you let your public school...” Jim waved a hand airily, “person... know everything. Gary’s smart enough to find a strategy if he knows what we’re doing, and what’s his face would tell Gary if he knew. So-”
Blaine’s hands clenched on his papers.
“Don’t call him that.”
“What? Public school? He is, though. He probably can barely afford tuition, when it comes down to it,” Jim smirked, and Blaine took a deep breath, “tell me, do you think he’s a gold digger? After the Anderson riches? Because I can’t see any other appeal in dating you.”
“Stop it, Jim.”
“I mean-”
“Bond!” Blaine stood up, chair falling over behind him, “I swear to god, stop talking, or I’m going to-”
“What, hit me?” Jim sneered, “You remember that no bullying policy? It’s still around, even when you’re the one doing the physical intimidation. As if I couldn’t out do you by holding out my arm and pushing you back by the forehead.”
Blaine’s teeth gritted.
“I’m on the fencing team, remember? I’m rather more experienced with combat than you are.”
“Can we just practice?” Blaine managed, and Jim nodded, offering him a fake smile.
“Of course we can, Anderson. I was just making conversation.”
Blaine nodded.
Apparently some things were off-limits for both of them. That was fine. He just had to make it through these duets without punching Jim in his smug mouth, and it’d be fine.
---
“Hey, Ben-”
Ben jumped, whirling around, and came face to face with a very bewildered Harry Takashima.
“Oh. Harry, hi. Alright, mate?”
“Fine. You’re...very jumpy. Still avoiding Wes and David?” Harry asked, falling into step with the English boy as they walked towards the dorms.
“No, I escaped with their blessing, this time,” Ben smiled slightly, “but I’m still a little on edge. I keep thinking David is going to appear and start throwing marshmallows at me.”
“I hate it when that happens,” Harry agreed, “one time, they wanted to do something Beatles related, and Pratik and I were under siege for weeks.”
Ben sunk his hands deeper into his pockets, nodding.
“So, what have you been up to?” Harry asked, holding the door for Ben as they left the main school building, “You’re not a warbler, so you’ve been missing all the big drama, right?”
Ben laughed, shaking his head, “Harry, the entire school runs on the gossip that comes out of the Warblers. We’ve spent the last week betting who’s going to punch who in the mouth first.”
Harry smiled, nudging Ben’s shoulder, “Who’d you pick?”
“I am insulted by your assumption,” Ben said loftily, hitching up his backpack, “who says I chose anyone?”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“...Blaine seems a lot more physically volatile.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully, “I probably would have gone with him, too.”
“Do you think you could make him make a move before Friday? I could use the extra spending money.”
Harry laughed, head tilting back, and Ben watched with a smile.
“In fact, if I win, how about we go to a movie together?”
“Sure, man, that sounds fun,” Harry nodded, “so, anyway, I’ve been a pretty lousy buddy. How are you settling in?”
They continued to chat as they walked across the courtyard, ignoring the four boys hanging out by the Hallman dorms.
“So that’s the guy?” Bradley asked, and Seb shrugged.
“Well, yeah. But he’s obviously trying to get something going with Harry.”
“We could”
“fix that,” chimed the other two blonds, carbon copies of Bradley, and Seb sighed, slumping back in his seat.
“Guys, come on. It’s not real if it doesn’t happen...real-ly.”
“...Clearly all that time in the library has been doing you good,” Bradley said snidely, and Seb groaned, running a hand through his short, dark hair.
“You know what I mean, man.”
“Well,” Cas, the eldest of the triplet, began.
“we could” Leon continued, tossing a tennis ball from hand to hand.
“distract him,” Bradley finished, “and let you get some alone time with your guy.”
“He’s not my guy,” Seb muttered, “and his name’s Ben.”
“Oh yeah,” Cas rolled his eyes, “because”
“we care,” Leon agreed, “so much. He’s in your house. Go talk to him, you pussy.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“...Seb’s turned into a twelve year old girl, guys,” Leon announced, and Seb rolled his eyes, shoving at his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck off. Like you ever get up the courage to talk to girls.”
“Ew,” Leon shuddered.
“Or guys,” Bradley offered, and Leon wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue.
“The whole thing’s gross, thanks very much.”
Cas smiled a little, “That’s fine, little. More for us.”
“But seriously,” Leon poked Seb, “Make-”
“a move, before we-”
“put you in a cupboard with him and lock the door.”
Seb frowned, crossing his arms, “It’ll happen, or it won’t. Either way, I want to be friends with him. He’s a cool guy.”
“Sure, that’s all you want from him. Enjoy that.” Bradley stood up, picking up his bag, “Well, I have a project to go work on, and I need to drag my partner out of the art studio.”
“Good luck, Bradley,” Seb smirked, “you’ll have to wait until he finishes Z.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go stalk your library boy,” Bradley waved him off, smiling, and left.
---
“I’m thinking about applying for a sport scholarship to university,” David said, looking at a university handbook, “what do you think?”
“Davey, you don’t do sport,” Wes reminded him, sealing another envelope and putting it to the side.
“I do Ultimate Frisbee,” David reminded him, “that’s a sport, right?”
Wes thought for a second.
“Worth a shot.”
“My other option was competitive Team Fortress 2.”
Kurt sighed, sitting up, and closed his history book. Blaine, who had been enjoying the warm weight of his boyfriend against him, made an inquisitive noise, looking up from his physics textbook.
“I should go rehearse,” Kurt explained, “after all, this is the first time I’ll be participating in one of these meetings as an actual warbler. I want to make a good impression.”
“You’ll be amazing,” Blaine promised, smiling at him, “you always are.”
“Flatterer,” Kurt put away his books, hiding a smile, and stood up, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.
“Truth-teller... Or whatever the appropriate word for that is,” Blaine replied, and Kurt rolled his eyes.
“If I didn’t know you took Higher English, I’d be afraid for your vocabulary.”
“I’m not in class,” Blaine explained, his smile growing more charming, “I don’t have to brain.”
The other boy laughed, shaking his head, and leaned down for a kiss. Blaine’s hands settled on his hips, tugging him closer, and Kurt twisted out of his grip.
“I’ve got to go. Practice, and all.”
“Damn your work ethic.”
---
“Well. I can’t say this is unexpected,” Gary said, opening the door, and smiled at the boy on the other side, “come in.”
“Thanks, baby,” Jim grinned, slinking in and falling onto the other boy’s bed, “do you think you could distract me for a few hours?”
The dark haired teenager smiled, dropping onto the mattress next to him and crawling closer, settling himself on top of Jim’s hips.
“I’m sure we can work something out...” he leaned down, kissing him, and Jim practically melted into the mattress, eyes closing, “how’s Lee?”
Jim sighed, hands coming up to rest on Gary’s waist as the other boy began to kiss down his neck, nibbling along the tendons, “I don’t...”
“Want to talk about it? How could I have guessed,” Gary murmured, untucking Jim’s shirt and flicking open the buttons.
“You know me be-,” Jim half gasped, hips rising against Gary’s, and bit his lip, “H-he’s fine. Just worried.”
“And his brother?” he asked, tracing patterns down from Jim’s navel as he kissed his way down from Jim’s jaw to his shoulder.
“Still in surgery,” the blond squirmed, and Gary sighed against his collarbone, “let’s not talk about it?”
“If you like,” he agreed, dipping his head and beginning to suck a hickey at the join of his jaw and neck.
“Mm. This is nice,” Jim practically purred, tracing the line of Gary’s hipbone with one manicured nail, tilting his head back to give the other boy more space, “I missed this...”
Gary grinned, settling between Jim’s legs, and began to dot kisses along his stomach, “You mean you missed me.”
“That too,” Jim allowed, catching Gary’s cheek in his palm, “There’s a reason it’s a saying, after all.”
“What?”
“That you never forget your first,” Jim said, with a soft smile, and Gary rolled over, pulling Jim with him so they were lying on their sides, face to face.
“Are you okay? Really?”
“Really? Gary, I’m fine,” Jim rolled his eyes, looping his leg over Gary’s hips and pulling him closer, “but I’d be better if we were having sex right now. I didn’t come to you for a lecture, baby.”
Gary shrugged slightly, hand heavy and hot on the small of Jim’s back as he pulled him closer, pushing him against the line of his leg.
Jim gasped, and Gary repeated the movement, beginning to talk again, “The difference, Jim, is that if you were just looking for a hook up-”
“G-Gary...”
“If you were just looking for a hook up,” Gary repeated, kissing Jim lightly, nipping at his lower lip, “you’d go to someone else. You’d pull out that little black book of yours, and look up someone who’d be willing to have a one night stand.”
Jim whimpered, hiding his head in Gary’s shoulder, “but you didn’t. You came to me, because you don’t just want a hook up. You want someone to tell you that everything will be alright. You want comfort,” Gary paused, rolling his hips against Jim’s, one hand coming up to thread through his hair, “and you want to be looked after. And that’s why you came to me.”
Jim swallowed, hard, and nodded, riding the movement of Gary’s leg.
Gary combed through Jim’s hair, holding him close, and the blond went limp against him, breathing hard.
“Fuck you for being so observant, Paige.”
Gary smiled, rolling them over again, and pressed Jim’s wrists into the pillows, “So, now we’ve had our daily dose of me being observant, what were you saying about several hours of sex?”
Jim grinned, arching up against him, “I was saying that I want you to-”
There was a knock on the door, and Gary sighed, sitting up.
“...If that’s Hummel, I swear to god, I’m going to punch Anderson in the face,” Jim ground out.
“Because that makes logical sense,” Gary began to button his shirt, and whoever it was knocked again.
“Gary?”
Jim nodded, sitting up, “Anderson is getting punched in the face, it would seem.”
The dark haired teenager grabbed him by his loosened tie, pulling him into a fierce kiss, “No.”
“But I want to!”
“Isn’t that a shame,” Gary smiled, “get dressed, and go bother Blaine. Practice your duet or whatever.”
“I miss Lee,” Jim sulked, standing up and buttoning his shirt, “he wouldn’t just let me punch Anderson in the face, he’d do it for me.”
“Shoo, blondie,” Gary said fondly, walking him to the door.
“Usually I’m the one kicking other people out of bed, not the one being kicked out,” Jim pouted as Gary opened the door, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“That’s more than I ever wanted to know.”
“Don’t worry, public school, I don’t poach,” Jim looked the brunet up and down, wrinkling his nose, “not that I’d want to.”
“Go, Jim,” Gary said, and Jim leaned in, stealing a kiss, before he sauntered off.
“I so do not understand the attraction there,” Kurt said, shaking his head.
“And neither do I with you and Blaine,” Gary told him peaceably, “now, let’s practice.”
---
Mr Matthews looked out across the music room. The warblers, rather than their usual social sprawl, had congregated into pairs, staring at each other half-suspiciously, and he clapped his hands, drawing their attention.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s start this competition. Can we have a volunteer?”
Eric’s hand shot into the air, and Mr Matthews shook his head, smiling.
“Sure, Eric, let’s have it. You and Liam, right?”
“That’s right,” Eric nodded, springing off the top of the piano and grabbing Liam by his jacket.
Liam stood up, shaking his head slightly, and they approached the top of the classroom.
“So, what song did you pick, and why?”
“We picked Where is Your Heart, by Kelly Clarkson, because it shows my versatile range, and Liam does what I say,” Eric explained.
Mr Matthews raised an eyebrow.
“Eric really likes the song, and there are some cool parts that I like singing too,” Liam said, and Eric nodded.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? And there isn’t any particular emotional meaning to it.”
“...Sure, let’s go with that,” Liam agreed.
“Okay, boys, take it away,” Mr Matthews gestured, and Eric breathed in deeply.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-MHBJvysSg
It was like some kind of weird competitive spell had been broken by the performance, as the warblers applauded, and Jim even wolf-whistled. They stopped clustering away from each other, instead falling into their normal groups, and Mr Matthews smiled.
“Fantastic. Alright, who’s next?”
“Me,” Jim declared, “...and Anderson, I guess.”
They were the only duet partners who hadn’t sat together- instead, Jim lounged next to Pratik and Harry, while Blaine sat between Wes and Kurt.
“Good,” Mr Matthews nodded, “and you boys have learned something this week, haven’t you?”
“That Anderson is even more annoying when he’s not in front of his adoring fans?” Jim asked snidely, and Mr Matthews frowned.
“Jim.”
“Sorry, sir. Yes, we’re ready to perform.”
Blaine stood up slowly, practically sulking as he approached the front of the classroom.
“Well, go ahead, then. I won’t ask you to explain the song, because otherwise you’ll argue for the next half hour about it,” Mr Matthews said, and Blaine nodded.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlsBObg-1BQ
It was strange, Kurt thought, seeing Blaine in the background. He was good, no doubt, and still as charismatic as ever, but he somehow didn’t belong there. It was like seeing a dog try and walk on its hind feet. Equally strangely, as he’d never seen him doing anything but sway in the background, was seeing Jim take the lead. His voice was magnificent, naturally, and he put enough emotion into the song that Kurt felt like he was going to cry- there was something desperate and broken behind his eyes, raw and unhappy, and it worked, but... Somehow, Kurt knew that Jim was not going to get the solo he was so desperate for. He sounded wrong for the group.
Absently, Kurt thought that Jim would do well in New Directions.
There was a scatter of applause, and a sniffle. When Kurt turned, he saw Eric wiping at his eyes. When the ginger noticed him, he glared, and hid his face in a piece of tissue.
“Wes and David?” Mr Matthews asked, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but are you ready?”
Wes and David, who were wearing matching sunglasses covered in fly like silvery protrusions, smiled.
“We’re ready,” Wes nodded, “aren’t we Davetron 2000?”
“Indeed we are, Wesomatic.”
Mr Matthews cringed, gesturing them to the front of the group.
“Go ahead, then. Scar us for life.”
“Mr Matthews! Honestly!” Wes sounded shocked.
“For life?” David questioned, “Really?”
“At most, we’d say until lunch. Then it’ll fade.”
“Fade like a dead body in Mario,” David nodded.
“Go on, boys. Perform.” Mr Matthws waved a hand, and the pair grinned.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SpDr9FOIPI
“You know what surprises me most?” Mr Matthews told the two grinning, out of breath boys, “The fact that this doesn’t even surprise me anymore.”
“You liked it,” Wes said, high fiving his best friend, “we can tell.”
“I did,” Mr Matthews admitted, grinning, “you’re always ridiculous, but you do it with panache.”
“You here that, Davey? We have panache!”
“We should get badges. With warnings,” David pondered, taking his seat.
“Warning: Panache?” Wes asked, and David nodded.
“Precisely. But worded more humorously.”
“Naturally.”
“Mr Matthews?” Kurt asked, half raising his hand, “If I may?”
“Go ahead, Kurt.”
Kurt stood up, moving to the front of the room, “As you know, this is the first time I’ve really performed as part of the Warblers, and although I had some hiccups at the beginning, I would like to thank Gary for his help, and he has been a fantastic partner. Not the one I was originally hoping for-”
“No offence taken,” Gary said dryly.
“But I couldn’t have asked for a better substitute,” Kurt nodded, “so, without further ado, let’s start.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjEqAZoBYwI
Kurt lowered his arms, and the room burst into applause.
Gary leaned in, grinning, “We have this in the bag.”
Kurt smiled, tucking a single strand of his hair back, “Of course we do.”
“Great job, guys! And congratulations, Kurt, on your first performance as a warbler!” Mr Matthews applauded, and they took their seats, Kurt still smiling and confident.
“Okay, who’s next?”
Pratik raised his hand.
“Yes, Pratik?”
“I was w-wondering if I would be allowed to use an instrument? Because two people isn’t really good enough to do a proper arrangement?”
The teacher blinked, shrugging, “Sure, Pratik. Are you and Harry ready?”
“Yes, we are,” Harry said, standing up, and Pratik picked a guitar off the rack behind him, coming to the front of the classroom.
“So, the song, and why?”
“We picked. um...” Pratik trailed off, looking down at the guitar and checking if it was tuned properly.
“We decided to try something a little different,” Harry picked up the thread of the explanation, and Pratik aimed him a thankful smile, “and went with a song by Hellogoodbye.”
“Interesting,” Mr Matthews nodded, joining the warblers and taking Pratik’s seat, “and why?”
“Because,” Pratik said slowly, “sometimes it’s easier to say things in music than it is in words.”
“Right then. Go ahead!” Mr Matthews smiled, and Pratik began to play.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j16phD1FFoo
Afterwards, Pratik hung the guitar back on its rack quietly.
“Wow,” Mr Matthews stood up, clapping, “that was amazing, right, guys?”
Pratik reddened, slipping back into his seat, and Harry grinned.
“Alright, guys, you all know the drill,” Mr Matthews said, “vote, put your ballot in the tambourine, and pass it on to the next person.”
There was complete silence as the tambourine was passed around, and Mr Matthews took it back from the closest warbler, Melvin, with a smile.
“Right, here we go.”
“Sorry, Blaine, but I’ve got this one,” Kurt said, confident, and Blaine smiled.
“If I was actually singing lead, I’d be arguing with you, but as is...”
“You don’t think it was good enough to compete?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a reason Jim never gets solos, and it isn’t an irrational hatred of Hallman,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand.
“And the winners...with an overwhelming eight votes,” Mr Matthews announced, “drumroll!”
All the warblers began drumming on their legs, and Mr Matthews grinned.
“Harry and Pratik! You guys are singing a duet at the Alumni dinner! Congratulations!”
author: infraredphaeton
summary: There's a duet competition. ...And some strangeness
warnings:make out scenes, OCs, Eric, youtube links
rating: PG-15 for mild sex
“Look,” Blaine said, smiling apologetically at Kurt as his boyfriend stabbed a grapefruit angrily, “we’ll just have to make the best of it. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, anyway, and Mr Matthews was right to take action and show that our actions have consequences.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.
“Jeeze, Blainemeister, did you swallow a self help book in your sleep or something?” David asked, and Blaine rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his oatmeal.
“No, I’m just more mature than you.”
“Dude, you were up until 2AM doing your Spanish homework,” Wes said, shaking his head.
“Emotionally more mature,” Blaine qualified, “but seriously, Kurt, you should talk to Gary. He’s a great guy, and he’ll be a brilliant partner. You should give him a chance.”
Kurt hummed noncommittally, and Blaine put his hand over Kurt’s, ducking his head to catch his eye.
“Hey, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll have other duets. You’ll have fun...” his smile soured, “you’ll be better off than I will be, that’s for sure.”
“Oh?”
“Jim decided our song, and I can’t be bothered to argue,” Blaine explained, taking another bite of oatmeal, “where he takes the front, mostly, and I harmonise. It sounds great, of course, we have good voices, but still.”
“Our Blaine prefers to be front and centre,” Wes nodded.
“He likes the attention,” David added.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Okay,” Kurt nodded, straightening his tie, “I’ll talk to Gary. And we’ll come up with something that’ll leave you in the dust.”
---
“Gary?” Kurt knocked on the geek’s door, “Are you in? I want to talk about duets.”
He sighed, shifting his weight, and the door opened, “Oh, there you are, good. Now, I know this probably isn’t what you were hoping for- I definitely had someone else in mind to duet with, but I’m sure we’ll manage. So- Jim?”
“Morning, Hummel,” Jim grinned, straightening his tie, and turned back towards the inside of the room, “No, baby, it’s just the new kid, here to talk about musical theory and how evil I am for provoking his boyfriend, I’d guess.”
Gary, sleep rumpled, his dark curls in a wild halo, appeared behind Jim, and pressed a kiss to the blond’s cloth covered shoulder.
They were both fully dressed at least, Kurt noticed, although Gary was significantly rumpled, and both had obvious hickeys along their necks. The dark haired boy was eyeing Jim with an almost possessive look, and the blond looked as happy as a cat with a bowl of cream.
“Out, you menace,” he said fondly, “I have a duet competition to win.”
Jim pouted, leaning back into the kiss, “But Gary...”
“Out,” Gary repeated, nipping him, and swatted his ass. Jim laughed, smiling happily, and swung out the door, past Kurt, “I’ll see you tonight, anyway.”
“Careful, Hummel, you’ll catch flies like that,” Jim said, sauntering past him, and Gary shook his head, watching the Hallman boy walk away.
“Come in, Kurt,” Gary held open the door, and Kurt smiled uneasily, entering the room.
Gary, unlike most Keiran boys, had a single, and his bed was pushed up against the side of the room to make room for the intimidatingly huge tangle of cables, TV and computer that covered almost half the room. Clothes were piled in one corner, and posters- one Team Fortress 2, one Halo, one Half-Life, and something anime-ish that seemed to be called Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side- were hung on the walls. The curtains were drawn, too, giving it an almost cave like feel, but somehow, Kurt thought, taking a prim seat on Gary’s desk chair as the dark haired boy sprawled on his rumpled bed, it was still comfortable and almost welcoming.
“So...” Kurt trailed off, and Gary ran a hand through his hair.
“Are you going to be weird about me and Jim?” he asked absently, crossing his legs, and Kurt reddened slightly.
“Look, I just want to know what on Earth would make you ever want to do anything with him other than glare disdainfully. You’re Blaine’s friend, aren’t you?”
“We’re not close,” Gary shrugged, “we hang out with very different crowds. But yeah, we’re friends. As for Jim...have you ever even talked to him?”
Kurt rolled his eyes, undoing his satchel and pulling out a sheaf of sheet music, “I don’t see how that affects anything.”
Gary smiled a little, sitting up, “glass houses, dude. You can’t judge a guy you’ve never even talked to.”
“All I’ve seen of him is him being a complete...urgh, a complete ass without provocation. I don’t think I want to talk to someone like that, unless it’s to deliver a verbal bitchslap he will never forget.”
“His best friend’s brother has been in a horrible car collision, and had to leave the country in a hurry yesterday morning,” Gary revealed, his green eyes fixed on Kurt as the other boy’s face changed, “they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Kurt’s shocked expression faded as his eyes caught on the hickey on Gary’s neck again, “so he went out and slept with someone? Yeah, he’s clearly suffering.”
Gary sat up, frowning, “Let’s just work on the duet, and keep Jim out of it, shall we?”
“Sure,” Kurt agreed, and Gary pulled a laptop out from under his bed.
“Shall we youtube?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Actually, I already have a song idea,” Gary told him, beginning to type and click through without looking away from Kurt, “if you want to give it a listen?”
“Well, I suppose. I have very definite ideas on what I sing, though, so I probably won’t agree,” Kurt warned, coming over to sit next to Gary as the video loaded.
---
“Do you think we can do techno acapella?” David asked Wes.
“I think we can definitely do techno acapella, don’t you, Blaine?” Wes poked Blaine in the ribs, but the other boy just swatted his hand, frowning at the empty air, “Blaine, your blazer collection is on fire!”
Blaine didn’t react, and Wes and David looked at each other, nodded, and shifted in to lean against Blaine.
“What’s wrong, Blaine-meister?”
Blaine bit his lip, relaxing against Wes as David curled closer on his other side, squishing him between them.
“Jim Bond.”
“Are we talking about your fruitless crushes again, Anderson?” asked an arch, vaguely accented voice from above them, and Blaine tensed, “because while I do swing that way, I would rather pour acid in my eyes than even consider the thought.”
“Why are you in Keiran, Bond?” Blaine ground out, and Wes put a soothing hand on his shoulder. Blaine’s shoulder was like rock, and Wes swiped his thumb along the line of his muscle, aiming a concerned look at David.
“I was with Gary,” Jim said sweetly, “who has been my rock in this difficult time.”
“Yeah...I heard about Lee, Bond, I’m sor-” Blaine’s expression softened, and he smiled apologetically at the blond.
“No, not that,” Jim snapped, hands clenching on the strap of his bag, “I meant being partnered to you.”
“Of course you did.”
Jim offered him another poisonous smile, and swayed towards the exit.
“Well. Come on, then. I don’t have all day.”
“What?” Blaine frowned, and Jim rolled his eyes.
“Duet competition? Ringing any bells? Hurry up, Anderson. I have a schedule to fit.”
“Oh,” Blaine muttered under his breath, untangling himself from Wes and David, “yeah, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your rigidly regulated screwing timetable.”
“You really need to learn how to mutter, Anderson,” Jim observed, and Blaine flushed, following him out of the common room.
“Maybe you need to learn to stop listening in on my conversations.”
“Maybe you should stop talking about me!”
“Maybe you should just stop!”
“Stop what, Anderson? Being better than you in every way?”
“Stop being such a-”
The common room door closed behind them, and David looked at Wes, blinking.
“This is not going to end well.”
“Not even slightly.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Wes said, fiddling with the ring on his finger, “to...”
“The weather?” David suggested, and Wes rolled his eyes.
“What are you, British?”
Ben made an unhappy noise from his chair, looking up over his copy of Alice in Wonderland.
“No offence meant, Ben,” Wes apologised quickly, and David snickered.
“None taken,” Ben said grouchily, and turned a page.
“No, I thought we should talk duets. And techno,” Wes specified, and David grinned, eyes lighting up.
“We need a tech-spert, don’t we?” David asked, and Wes nodded.
“Ben!”
“Oh sweet! In sync again!”
---
“So, how’s your brother?”
Lee swallowed, pacing up and down the rain slick pavement outside the hospital doors, “Fucking fantastic, Jim, really. He does so fucking well with huge vehicle collisions. Always has.”
He sighed, breathing in a lungful of cigarette smoke, and slumped against the wall, “There’s no fucking news. He’s been in surgery for eight hours now.”
“Eight hours? Fuck.”
He laughed harshly, sliding down the wall so he was sitting on the pavement, “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Lee closed his eyes, “I’m really fucking worried, Jim. What if he’s not okay? What if he...”
“Quite frankly,” said Jim’s arch voice, a little crackly from the long distance connection, “the most he will have to worry about is missing school. Don’t fuss so, sweet thing. He’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Jim, my little fucking brother is in fucking surgery, don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Lee hissed, “I’m not in the fucking mood for your bull shit today, okay? Ruari comes first.”
There was a silence from the other side of the line, and Lee gritted his teeth.
Fantastic. First, his brother was in life-threatening surgery, and now he’d pissed off Jim. That was just fucking fantastic.
“...Lee?”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Jim, I didn’t-”
“No,” Jim’s voice sounded distant and thoughtful, “that was fair. Can you do something for me, love?”
“Fucking anything, you know that,” Lee promised, standing up and brushing off the back of his trousers.
“Go to the nurse’s station, and ask if there’s anywhere you can wash.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jim said, and his voice lost the strange, dreamy sound, “go ask.”
Lee shrugged, picking up his backpack, and trudged into the hospital.
“And get changed, sweet thing. Two day old private school uniform does not look good on anyone. Except me, probably. I look good in everything.”
Lee smiled slightly.
“Did I tell you about this bullshit with Anderson?”
“Is the fucktard giving you trouble? I’ll fucking mash him if he touches you, Jim, I swear to god.”
There was a second of silence, as Jim considered the idea.
“No. You stick to worrying about your brother, love. I’ll deal with Anderson.”
“Don’t set him on fire, Jim.”
“I won’t. That’s your job.”
--
“You’re here a lot, aren’t you?”
Ben blinked, looking up from his book, to see an unfamiliar guy standing in front of him- he was wearing a Keiran pin, and had short black hair and a pleasant smile, so Ben didn’t lift his book again, instead offering him an unsure smile.
“Ah, yeah. I’m...don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but I’m hiding from Wes and David,” Ben said, running a hand through his hair, and the other guy laughed lightly, falling onto the couch next to him.
“They’re kind of crazy sometimes, aren’t they?”
“Only sometimes?” Ben raised an eyebrow, and the guy- who looked vaguely familiar, he must have spent time in the library before or something- laughed again, turning towards him.
“Okay, all the time. You have a point. I’m Sebastien, by the way. But my friends call me Seb.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben.”
Naturally, because Ben was about as awkward as a cat that had found itself at the top of a tree with no way to get down, he offered his hand.
Seb looked at him strangely, but before Ben could pull back, stretched out his own, and they shook.
“...I can’t help it,” Ben said, flushing slightly, “I’m British. We’re formal. It’s what we do.”
Seb just kept grinning, “Well, you’re busy, and I have a math portfolio to work on. So, nice to meet you, Ben.”
Ben nodded, “You too, Sebastien.”
“Seb, remember?” Seb said, standing up and heading for the door, “My friends call me Seb.”
Ben watched him leave, leaning the open edge of his book against his lips to hide his smile. It was...nice, he decided, to meet someone else. Dalton seemed so small, sometimes, too full of huge personalities, and it was really...nice...to think that someone had decided he was worth talking to instead of one of those other brighter sparks.
“You thought you’d managed to hide, didn’t you?”
Ben froze, turning around, and smiled nervously, “Hey...Wes, David...how’s it going?”
David smiled, putting an arm around Wes’ shoulders, “Never go into competitive hide and seek, Ben, it won’t end well.”
“That exists?”
“Of course it does,” Wes shook his head, “Oh, you poor, poor boy. If you showed talent, we would offer to take you with us next time.”
“But you kind of suck. I mean, we all know you spend every lunch and break in the library, Ben. Most obvious place to hide, much?”
“You’re as bad as Seb, honestly,” Wes said, grabbing Ben’s left arm as David grabbed his right, pulling him up and out of his seat, “always in the library.”
“But that’s a new thing, Wes-ster,” David reminded him, “it’s only been the last month or so, right?”
“Right,” Wes nodded, “stop trying to sneak off, Ben.”
Ben froze, “...never.”
“Come teach us how to techno, Ben,” David wheedled.
“Teach us your techno-y ways, Ben.”
“Help us, Obi-wan Benobi, you’re our only hope!”
“...Oh god, please stop talking.”
“That’s a yes!” Wes crowed.
“He’s like Blainers, he speaks in nos and I hate yous!” David agreed, and Ben let them pull him out of the library, smiling at Mrs. Neog as they passed the circulation desk.
“It’s adorable, even if we already have one,” Wes nodded, “he can be our substitute Blaine!”
“Kurt is our substitute Blaine, though,” David reminded him, “he can be our substitute substitute Blaine.”
“Surely no more prestigious a title exists,” Ben put in, and David smacked him on the back.
“C’mon, Subsub, let’s go techno!”
“Can you use techno as a verb?” Wes wondered.
“Well, I can,” David told him loftily, as they pulled Ben along the corridor, “because I’m special.”
“Lord save me from stupid yanks.”
---
“So,” Kurt asked, taking a seat opposite Blaine and pushing his coffee over, “what’s it like?”
Blaine frowned, turning his coffee cup between his palms, “Working with Jim? Impossible. He’s always a pain, but without Lee around, he’s...unbearable.”
Kurt hooked his ankle around Blaine’s, “Well, I’d be pretty unbearable if you had to go to Ireland for some reason in the middle of the year.”
Blaine smiled a little, looking up and into Kurt’s eyes, “Yeah, I know. I’d be the same.”
He reached out, catching Kurt’s hand in his, twining their fingers together, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“The difference, I suppose,” Blaine said, as they threw away their empty coffee cups, “is that Lee and Jim aren’t together.”
“Really?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “I got the feeling that Jim was...” he paused for a second, trying to think of a polite way to put it, and gave up, “kind of a slut.”
“Oh, he is,” Blaine nodded, opening the door for Kurt, “but Lee Dwyre is probably the only person at this school who can say he hasn’t slept with Jim Bond.”
“Seriously?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “The entire school? That’s kind of an exaggeration, isn’t it? Most of the guys here are straight, aren’t they?”
“Jim doesn’t ‘count’, apparently,” Blaine said, shrugging, “see, watch- hey, uh, Andrew.”
He tapped a passing junior on the shoulder, and the boy turned around.
“What?”
“Have you slept with Jim Bond?”
“Duh.” The blond rolled his eyes, and walked off.
“See?”
“That’s got to be an anomaly,” Kurt shook his head, “I’ll pick someone.”
After ten minutes of asking around, Kurt gave up.
“Seriously. Everyone at this school? Everyone?”
He eyed Blaine thoughtfully, “Everyone?”
His boyfriend looked vaguely nauseated, “Oh, hell no. Never. Not if my life depended on it.”
“Good to hear it, Anderson,” came a voice from further up the staircase, and Blaine shut his eyes, wincing.
“Tell me that isn’t Jim.”
“I try not to lie,” Kurt replied, nodding at the blond, who returned the gesture, “what’s good to hear, Jim?”
“That Anderson wouldn’t think of revealing his duet to you. Despite your relationship, this is a competition, and I’m terribly competitive,” Jim said airily, swaying down the stairs.
“If you think I need help to beat you, you must be insane,” Kurt said, smiling icily, “or deaf.”
“No, not deaf, just uninterested in worshipping at the alter of Anderson, or his arm candy,” Jim returned the smile, equally fake.
“Arm candy? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Well, I was put on the spot rather abruptly,” Jim said, eyes widening with mock hurt, “I didn’t expect to be attacked when I came to get my duet partner for practice.”
“I’m on a date, Jim,” Blaine said, not bothering, for once, to smile charmingly. Instead, he looked irritated, and aimed a half-glare at the blond, who completely ignored it.
“And I’m on a schedule, as I’ve told you before. The competition ends tomorrow, Anderson, and while you may enjoy frittering your time away on useless pursuits-”
Blaine gritted his teeth, and Kurt put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.
“I don’t. I have things to do. Come al-”
“What a shame,” Kurt interrupted, “I’m sure we’re very sorry to delay you. I’ll get Blaine to you in, say, an hour?”
Without waiting for a reply, he hooked his arm through his boyfriend’s, and tugged him out the door, into the crisp autumn air.
---
“Hello?” Eric eyed his cell phone warily.
Liam was sitting right next to him, and his mother was not meant to call him until Saturday.
“Hi, Eric?”
The dulcet tones of an angel came from his phone.
“...Rachel?”
“Oh, good, I have the right number. Did you know that you’re not listed in the school directory?” Rachel asked, voice bright, and Eric felt himself grin like an idiot.
Liam eyed him with worry, and Eric mouthed ‘Rachel’ at him.
“Yes, I bribed Gary to take me out of the system,” Eric replied, “why are you calling?”
“I recently broke up with my boyfriend,” Rachel told him.
Eric heard a halleloujah chorus in his mind, and Liam raised an eyebrow, worried at the unfamiliar dopey smile on his best friend’s face.
“That’s a shame, Rachel,” Eric said happily.
“Yes, so, as you made your interest clear the last time I saw you, when you presented me with thirty two long stemmed roses-”
“Did you like them?”
“I need to get used to fans giving me gifts,” Rachel declared diplomatically, “anyway, would you like to take me out to dinner?”
“Yes. Yes I would. Yes, please,” Eric nodded rapidly, grin irrepressible, “Dinner would be great.”
“Perfect. Pick me up at six, and be prepared to sing a duet with me, preferably from a Streisand movie,” Rachel ordered him, and hung up.
“Liam?” Eric asked faintly.
“Eric, are you okay? What’s going on?” Liam leaned in, brow creased with worry.
“I need you to see if I am suffering from auditory hallucinations. And also help me get ready for a date with Rachel Berry.”
---
“So, how’s Lee?” Blaine asked, wandering around the edge of the practice room, “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Jim said shortly, cueing up the song again, “why do you have to keep trying to talk to me? I find your voice grating and irritating, like some kind of ground squirrel that has learned English and is desperately trying to sign a recording contract with Disney.”
“Fine,” Blaine said sharply, “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Well, don’t,” Jim replied, and pressed play.
---
Kurt rapped on the door to Pratik’s shared room, smiling slightly as the guitarist stared at his shoes.
“You don’t have to knock,” Pratik said quietly, “he’s playing Revolver, so he isn’t studying.”
“You know what music he’d be playing if he was studying?” Kurt asked, hand on the doorknob, and Pratik nodded, going a dull red colour.
“Abbey Road for science, Help! for math, The White Album for English, and-”
“Love for everything else,” Harry finished, putting down his imported copy of NME, “Hey, Kurt.”
Pratik toed off his shoes, rolling his toes in the carpet, and sat down on his bed, gesturing Kurt to sit next to him.
“You walked him back from math?” Harry didn’t quite ask, and Kurt blinked.
It was like he’d missed a conversation, although neither of the other boys had talked.
“Yeah,” Kurt nodded, “he had too many books to carry easily.”
“And Bradley Morrigan was being an utter douche,” Harry continued, and Pratik looked away, fiddling with the toe of his obnoxiously neon green socks, “and he made fun of you again.”
For the second half of the statement, he turned to face Pratik, who shrugged half heartedly, reaching across the bed to pick up his guitar.
“And you still aren’t going to let me report him, are you?”
“There isn’t much to report,” Kurt said, and it felt like an interruption, “he doesn’t actually do anything, you know?”
“I know,” Harry said grimly, and Pratik began to pick at his guitar, little ripples and arpeggios that somehow didn’t seem intrusive, as though they were part of the conversation, “but I’m equally sure that if Pratik would actually complain, we could do something about it- yes, I know you don’t want to, but...fine.”
Kurt blinked.
As far as he could tell, Pratik hadn’t even moved, but Harry was frowning as though he’d been interrupted mid-flow.
“Well, anyway,” Harry shook his head, “it’s appreciated, Kurt. Pratik’s thankful too, if he didn’t say it.”
Pratik smiled apologetically, shrugging, and Kurt waved it off with one well manicured hand, standing up, “I’m used to far more Neanderthal-esque flavour of bully, but I’m still far more practiced than many of you, I’d think. It was my pleasure, really.”
He picked up his bag, nodding to Pratik, who waved a little, and headed for the door.
“It was nice seeing you!” Harry called after him absently, already focused on Pratik, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Pratik shrugged again, playing with the strings on his new guitar.
It was yellow wood, a little more brightly varnished than his old one, and although he’d chosen to stick with steel strings, for some reason the chords still felt different when he framed them. The gauge was the same, the body size was the same...but it wasn’t the same.
Harry reached across, catching his hand, and smiled, rubbing his thumb along the line of Pratik’s knuckles.
“Hey. It’s a good guitar. I helped you pick, remember?”
Pratik nodded.
“I know it’s not the same. Your uncle gave you your guitar, and the guy who smashed it was a total ass for doing it, but it happens. We’ll find out who did it, and he’ll get expelled, and everything will be fine.”
Pratik cleared his throat lightly, turning his hand over in Harry’s grip to lace their fingers together.
“You always make me feel better,” he said quietly, and Harry smiled, “thank you.”
“So, we need to talk about a duet, don’t we?” Harry said, “After all, we want to win this competition, right?”
Pratik nodded.
He didn’t let go.
---
“So, tell me, Anderson, how much does your boyfriend know?” Jim asked lightly, fingers skipping over the buttons on the equaliser.
“What?” Blaine looked up from his sheet music, “Don’t bring Kurt into this, Jim, we talked about it already.”
“Look, I just want to know if we need to revise our entire song because you let your public school...” Jim waved a hand airily, “person... know everything. Gary’s smart enough to find a strategy if he knows what we’re doing, and what’s his face would tell Gary if he knew. So-”
Blaine’s hands clenched on his papers.
“Don’t call him that.”
“What? Public school? He is, though. He probably can barely afford tuition, when it comes down to it,” Jim smirked, and Blaine took a deep breath, “tell me, do you think he’s a gold digger? After the Anderson riches? Because I can’t see any other appeal in dating you.”
“Stop it, Jim.”
“I mean-”
“Bond!” Blaine stood up, chair falling over behind him, “I swear to god, stop talking, or I’m going to-”
“What, hit me?” Jim sneered, “You remember that no bullying policy? It’s still around, even when you’re the one doing the physical intimidation. As if I couldn’t out do you by holding out my arm and pushing you back by the forehead.”
Blaine’s teeth gritted.
“I’m on the fencing team, remember? I’m rather more experienced with combat than you are.”
“Can we just practice?” Blaine managed, and Jim nodded, offering him a fake smile.
“Of course we can, Anderson. I was just making conversation.”
Blaine nodded.
Apparently some things were off-limits for both of them. That was fine. He just had to make it through these duets without punching Jim in his smug mouth, and it’d be fine.
---
“Hey, Ben-”
Ben jumped, whirling around, and came face to face with a very bewildered Harry Takashima.
“Oh. Harry, hi. Alright, mate?”
“Fine. You’re...very jumpy. Still avoiding Wes and David?” Harry asked, falling into step with the English boy as they walked towards the dorms.
“No, I escaped with their blessing, this time,” Ben smiled slightly, “but I’m still a little on edge. I keep thinking David is going to appear and start throwing marshmallows at me.”
“I hate it when that happens,” Harry agreed, “one time, they wanted to do something Beatles related, and Pratik and I were under siege for weeks.”
Ben sunk his hands deeper into his pockets, nodding.
“So, what have you been up to?” Harry asked, holding the door for Ben as they left the main school building, “You’re not a warbler, so you’ve been missing all the big drama, right?”
Ben laughed, shaking his head, “Harry, the entire school runs on the gossip that comes out of the Warblers. We’ve spent the last week betting who’s going to punch who in the mouth first.”
Harry smiled, nudging Ben’s shoulder, “Who’d you pick?”
“I am insulted by your assumption,” Ben said loftily, hitching up his backpack, “who says I chose anyone?”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“...Blaine seems a lot more physically volatile.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully, “I probably would have gone with him, too.”
“Do you think you could make him make a move before Friday? I could use the extra spending money.”
Harry laughed, head tilting back, and Ben watched with a smile.
“In fact, if I win, how about we go to a movie together?”
“Sure, man, that sounds fun,” Harry nodded, “so, anyway, I’ve been a pretty lousy buddy. How are you settling in?”
They continued to chat as they walked across the courtyard, ignoring the four boys hanging out by the Hallman dorms.
“So that’s the guy?” Bradley asked, and Seb shrugged.
“Well, yeah. But he’s obviously trying to get something going with Harry.”
“We could”
“fix that,” chimed the other two blonds, carbon copies of Bradley, and Seb sighed, slumping back in his seat.
“Guys, come on. It’s not real if it doesn’t happen...real-ly.”
“...Clearly all that time in the library has been doing you good,” Bradley said snidely, and Seb groaned, running a hand through his short, dark hair.
“You know what I mean, man.”
“Well,” Cas, the eldest of the triplet, began.
“we could” Leon continued, tossing a tennis ball from hand to hand.
“distract him,” Bradley finished, “and let you get some alone time with your guy.”
“He’s not my guy,” Seb muttered, “and his name’s Ben.”
“Oh yeah,” Cas rolled his eyes, “because”
“we care,” Leon agreed, “so much. He’s in your house. Go talk to him, you pussy.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“...Seb’s turned into a twelve year old girl, guys,” Leon announced, and Seb rolled his eyes, shoving at his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck off. Like you ever get up the courage to talk to girls.”
“Ew,” Leon shuddered.
“Or guys,” Bradley offered, and Leon wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue.
“The whole thing’s gross, thanks very much.”
Cas smiled a little, “That’s fine, little. More for us.”
“But seriously,” Leon poked Seb, “Make-”
“a move, before we-”
“put you in a cupboard with him and lock the door.”
Seb frowned, crossing his arms, “It’ll happen, or it won’t. Either way, I want to be friends with him. He’s a cool guy.”
“Sure, that’s all you want from him. Enjoy that.” Bradley stood up, picking up his bag, “Well, I have a project to go work on, and I need to drag my partner out of the art studio.”
“Good luck, Bradley,” Seb smirked, “you’ll have to wait until he finishes Z.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go stalk your library boy,” Bradley waved him off, smiling, and left.
---
“I’m thinking about applying for a sport scholarship to university,” David said, looking at a university handbook, “what do you think?”
“Davey, you don’t do sport,” Wes reminded him, sealing another envelope and putting it to the side.
“I do Ultimate Frisbee,” David reminded him, “that’s a sport, right?”
Wes thought for a second.
“Worth a shot.”
“My other option was competitive Team Fortress 2.”
Kurt sighed, sitting up, and closed his history book. Blaine, who had been enjoying the warm weight of his boyfriend against him, made an inquisitive noise, looking up from his physics textbook.
“I should go rehearse,” Kurt explained, “after all, this is the first time I’ll be participating in one of these meetings as an actual warbler. I want to make a good impression.”
“You’ll be amazing,” Blaine promised, smiling at him, “you always are.”
“Flatterer,” Kurt put away his books, hiding a smile, and stood up, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.
“Truth-teller... Or whatever the appropriate word for that is,” Blaine replied, and Kurt rolled his eyes.
“If I didn’t know you took Higher English, I’d be afraid for your vocabulary.”
“I’m not in class,” Blaine explained, his smile growing more charming, “I don’t have to brain.”
The other boy laughed, shaking his head, and leaned down for a kiss. Blaine’s hands settled on his hips, tugging him closer, and Kurt twisted out of his grip.
“I’ve got to go. Practice, and all.”
“Damn your work ethic.”
---
“Well. I can’t say this is unexpected,” Gary said, opening the door, and smiled at the boy on the other side, “come in.”
“Thanks, baby,” Jim grinned, slinking in and falling onto the other boy’s bed, “do you think you could distract me for a few hours?”
The dark haired teenager smiled, dropping onto the mattress next to him and crawling closer, settling himself on top of Jim’s hips.
“I’m sure we can work something out...” he leaned down, kissing him, and Jim practically melted into the mattress, eyes closing, “how’s Lee?”
Jim sighed, hands coming up to rest on Gary’s waist as the other boy began to kiss down his neck, nibbling along the tendons, “I don’t...”
“Want to talk about it? How could I have guessed,” Gary murmured, untucking Jim’s shirt and flicking open the buttons.
“You know me be-,” Jim half gasped, hips rising against Gary’s, and bit his lip, “H-he’s fine. Just worried.”
“And his brother?” he asked, tracing patterns down from Jim’s navel as he kissed his way down from Jim’s jaw to his shoulder.
“Still in surgery,” the blond squirmed, and Gary sighed against his collarbone, “let’s not talk about it?”
“If you like,” he agreed, dipping his head and beginning to suck a hickey at the join of his jaw and neck.
“Mm. This is nice,” Jim practically purred, tracing the line of Gary’s hipbone with one manicured nail, tilting his head back to give the other boy more space, “I missed this...”
Gary grinned, settling between Jim’s legs, and began to dot kisses along his stomach, “You mean you missed me.”
“That too,” Jim allowed, catching Gary’s cheek in his palm, “There’s a reason it’s a saying, after all.”
“What?”
“That you never forget your first,” Jim said, with a soft smile, and Gary rolled over, pulling Jim with him so they were lying on their sides, face to face.
“Are you okay? Really?”
“Really? Gary, I’m fine,” Jim rolled his eyes, looping his leg over Gary’s hips and pulling him closer, “but I’d be better if we were having sex right now. I didn’t come to you for a lecture, baby.”
Gary shrugged slightly, hand heavy and hot on the small of Jim’s back as he pulled him closer, pushing him against the line of his leg.
Jim gasped, and Gary repeated the movement, beginning to talk again, “The difference, Jim, is that if you were just looking for a hook up-”
“G-Gary...”
“If you were just looking for a hook up,” Gary repeated, kissing Jim lightly, nipping at his lower lip, “you’d go to someone else. You’d pull out that little black book of yours, and look up someone who’d be willing to have a one night stand.”
Jim whimpered, hiding his head in Gary’s shoulder, “but you didn’t. You came to me, because you don’t just want a hook up. You want someone to tell you that everything will be alright. You want comfort,” Gary paused, rolling his hips against Jim’s, one hand coming up to thread through his hair, “and you want to be looked after. And that’s why you came to me.”
Jim swallowed, hard, and nodded, riding the movement of Gary’s leg.
Gary combed through Jim’s hair, holding him close, and the blond went limp against him, breathing hard.
“Fuck you for being so observant, Paige.”
Gary smiled, rolling them over again, and pressed Jim’s wrists into the pillows, “So, now we’ve had our daily dose of me being observant, what were you saying about several hours of sex?”
Jim grinned, arching up against him, “I was saying that I want you to-”
There was a knock on the door, and Gary sighed, sitting up.
“...If that’s Hummel, I swear to god, I’m going to punch Anderson in the face,” Jim ground out.
“Because that makes logical sense,” Gary began to button his shirt, and whoever it was knocked again.
“Gary?”
Jim nodded, sitting up, “Anderson is getting punched in the face, it would seem.”
The dark haired teenager grabbed him by his loosened tie, pulling him into a fierce kiss, “No.”
“But I want to!”
“Isn’t that a shame,” Gary smiled, “get dressed, and go bother Blaine. Practice your duet or whatever.”
“I miss Lee,” Jim sulked, standing up and buttoning his shirt, “he wouldn’t just let me punch Anderson in the face, he’d do it for me.”
“Shoo, blondie,” Gary said fondly, walking him to the door.
“Usually I’m the one kicking other people out of bed, not the one being kicked out,” Jim pouted as Gary opened the door, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“That’s more than I ever wanted to know.”
“Don’t worry, public school, I don’t poach,” Jim looked the brunet up and down, wrinkling his nose, “not that I’d want to.”
“Go, Jim,” Gary said, and Jim leaned in, stealing a kiss, before he sauntered off.
“I so do not understand the attraction there,” Kurt said, shaking his head.
“And neither do I with you and Blaine,” Gary told him peaceably, “now, let’s practice.”
---
Mr Matthews looked out across the music room. The warblers, rather than their usual social sprawl, had congregated into pairs, staring at each other half-suspiciously, and he clapped his hands, drawing their attention.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s start this competition. Can we have a volunteer?”
Eric’s hand shot into the air, and Mr Matthews shook his head, smiling.
“Sure, Eric, let’s have it. You and Liam, right?”
“That’s right,” Eric nodded, springing off the top of the piano and grabbing Liam by his jacket.
Liam stood up, shaking his head slightly, and they approached the top of the classroom.
“So, what song did you pick, and why?”
“We picked Where is Your Heart, by Kelly Clarkson, because it shows my versatile range, and Liam does what I say,” Eric explained.
Mr Matthews raised an eyebrow.
“Eric really likes the song, and there are some cool parts that I like singing too,” Liam said, and Eric nodded.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? And there isn’t any particular emotional meaning to it.”
“...Sure, let’s go with that,” Liam agreed.
“Okay, boys, take it away,” Mr Matthews gestured, and Eric breathed in deeply.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-MHBJvysSg
It was like some kind of weird competitive spell had been broken by the performance, as the warblers applauded, and Jim even wolf-whistled. They stopped clustering away from each other, instead falling into their normal groups, and Mr Matthews smiled.
“Fantastic. Alright, who’s next?”
“Me,” Jim declared, “...and Anderson, I guess.”
They were the only duet partners who hadn’t sat together- instead, Jim lounged next to Pratik and Harry, while Blaine sat between Wes and Kurt.
“Good,” Mr Matthews nodded, “and you boys have learned something this week, haven’t you?”
“That Anderson is even more annoying when he’s not in front of his adoring fans?” Jim asked snidely, and Mr Matthews frowned.
“Jim.”
“Sorry, sir. Yes, we’re ready to perform.”
Blaine stood up slowly, practically sulking as he approached the front of the classroom.
“Well, go ahead, then. I won’t ask you to explain the song, because otherwise you’ll argue for the next half hour about it,” Mr Matthews said, and Blaine nodded.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlsBObg-1BQ
It was strange, Kurt thought, seeing Blaine in the background. He was good, no doubt, and still as charismatic as ever, but he somehow didn’t belong there. It was like seeing a dog try and walk on its hind feet. Equally strangely, as he’d never seen him doing anything but sway in the background, was seeing Jim take the lead. His voice was magnificent, naturally, and he put enough emotion into the song that Kurt felt like he was going to cry- there was something desperate and broken behind his eyes, raw and unhappy, and it worked, but... Somehow, Kurt knew that Jim was not going to get the solo he was so desperate for. He sounded wrong for the group.
Absently, Kurt thought that Jim would do well in New Directions.
There was a scatter of applause, and a sniffle. When Kurt turned, he saw Eric wiping at his eyes. When the ginger noticed him, he glared, and hid his face in a piece of tissue.
“Wes and David?” Mr Matthews asked, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but are you ready?”
Wes and David, who were wearing matching sunglasses covered in fly like silvery protrusions, smiled.
“We’re ready,” Wes nodded, “aren’t we Davetron 2000?”
“Indeed we are, Wesomatic.”
Mr Matthews cringed, gesturing them to the front of the group.
“Go ahead, then. Scar us for life.”
“Mr Matthews! Honestly!” Wes sounded shocked.
“For life?” David questioned, “Really?”
“At most, we’d say until lunch. Then it’ll fade.”
“Fade like a dead body in Mario,” David nodded.
“Go on, boys. Perform.” Mr Matthws waved a hand, and the pair grinned.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SpDr9FOIPI
“You know what surprises me most?” Mr Matthews told the two grinning, out of breath boys, “The fact that this doesn’t even surprise me anymore.”
“You liked it,” Wes said, high fiving his best friend, “we can tell.”
“I did,” Mr Matthews admitted, grinning, “you’re always ridiculous, but you do it with panache.”
“You here that, Davey? We have panache!”
“We should get badges. With warnings,” David pondered, taking his seat.
“Warning: Panache?” Wes asked, and David nodded.
“Precisely. But worded more humorously.”
“Naturally.”
“Mr Matthews?” Kurt asked, half raising his hand, “If I may?”
“Go ahead, Kurt.”
Kurt stood up, moving to the front of the room, “As you know, this is the first time I’ve really performed as part of the Warblers, and although I had some hiccups at the beginning, I would like to thank Gary for his help, and he has been a fantastic partner. Not the one I was originally hoping for-”
“No offence taken,” Gary said dryly.
“But I couldn’t have asked for a better substitute,” Kurt nodded, “so, without further ado, let’s start.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjEqAZoBYwI
Kurt lowered his arms, and the room burst into applause.
Gary leaned in, grinning, “We have this in the bag.”
Kurt smiled, tucking a single strand of his hair back, “Of course we do.”
“Great job, guys! And congratulations, Kurt, on your first performance as a warbler!” Mr Matthews applauded, and they took their seats, Kurt still smiling and confident.
“Okay, who’s next?”
Pratik raised his hand.
“Yes, Pratik?”
“I was w-wondering if I would be allowed to use an instrument? Because two people isn’t really good enough to do a proper arrangement?”
The teacher blinked, shrugging, “Sure, Pratik. Are you and Harry ready?”
“Yes, we are,” Harry said, standing up, and Pratik picked a guitar off the rack behind him, coming to the front of the classroom.
“So, the song, and why?”
“We picked. um...” Pratik trailed off, looking down at the guitar and checking if it was tuned properly.
“We decided to try something a little different,” Harry picked up the thread of the explanation, and Pratik aimed him a thankful smile, “and went with a song by Hellogoodbye.”
“Interesting,” Mr Matthews nodded, joining the warblers and taking Pratik’s seat, “and why?”
“Because,” Pratik said slowly, “sometimes it’s easier to say things in music than it is in words.”
“Right then. Go ahead!” Mr Matthews smiled, and Pratik began to play.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j16phD1FFoo
Afterwards, Pratik hung the guitar back on its rack quietly.
“Wow,” Mr Matthews stood up, clapping, “that was amazing, right, guys?”
Pratik reddened, slipping back into his seat, and Harry grinned.
“Alright, guys, you all know the drill,” Mr Matthews said, “vote, put your ballot in the tambourine, and pass it on to the next person.”
There was complete silence as the tambourine was passed around, and Mr Matthews took it back from the closest warbler, Melvin, with a smile.
“Right, here we go.”
“Sorry, Blaine, but I’ve got this one,” Kurt said, confident, and Blaine smiled.
“If I was actually singing lead, I’d be arguing with you, but as is...”
“You don’t think it was good enough to compete?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a reason Jim never gets solos, and it isn’t an irrational hatred of Hallman,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand.
“And the winners...with an overwhelming eight votes,” Mr Matthews announced, “drumroll!”
All the warblers began drumming on their legs, and Mr Matthews grinned.
“Harry and Pratik! You guys are singing a duet at the Alumni dinner! Congratulations!”