5 More Glee Drabbles
Title: 4 Angsty Drabbles and One Fluffy One
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Gen, Blaine/Kurt
Author: Kagedtiger
Rating: PG (for angst)
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and all the lovely people who create it.
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Series: none
Summary: More Glee drabbles! Four moments of Kurt-centric angst, and one moment of happy fluff!
Will Schuster was having a good day. The kids were doing great with their duet assignments; they'd already heard one amazing performance, and he was guessing from some of the rehearsals he'd overheard that the others were going to be pretty darn good as well. Everyone in Glee was really warming up to the idea of competition, and Will loved to see them at their best like this.
He was in his office looking over some sheet music when there was a tentative knock on the door. "Come in!" he called absently, frowning at the piece he held. It was a bit more difficult than what they usually did, but at the rate the kids were going, maybe they could pull it off. He looked up as his door opened and a tired-looking Kurt Hummel entered.
"Hey Kurt!" he said cheerfully. "Have a seat! What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Schuster, I'd like to change what I put on the sign-up sheet for the duet competition."
"Oh?" Will wheeled his chair over to a table near the wall where some of his papers were stacked, shuffling through them in search of the tentative duet sign-up sheet he'd passed around during club. "Have you decided on a different song?"
"Sort of," said Kurt. He grabbed the strap of his bag a little tighter where it crossed over his shoulder. He still hadn't sat down. "I'm going to be doing my duet by myself."
"What?" Will stopped his search, turning to face Kurt incredulously. "Kurt, it's a duet competition. You can't do it by yourself."
"Well, I'm going to need you to give me special dispensation, then," said Kurt, his tone somewhat on edge.
"Kurt," said Will patiently, "I can't treat you differently than everyone else. It wouldn't be fair. Besides, weren't you signed up to sing with Sam? Isn't it a little unfair of you to just leave him in the lurch like that?"
"Trust me, Mr. Schu," said Kurt bitterly, "if I could just get up there and sing a duet with another boy and have it not cause some kind of nuclear apocalypse, or even have it be - heaven forbid - normal, I would. But that's not going to happen, and so we're both just going to have to accept it. If you don't let me sing by myself, then I'm not going to get to enter the competition at all."
Will paused before replying. He'd been trying to watch Kurt a lot more closely lately, ever since his dad had gone to the hospital. More and more lately Kurt was getting prickly and defensive, and he seemed to get more sarcastic the more hurt he felt. It made Will wonder what had precipitated this sudden change of heart for the duet contest.
"What happened?" he asked bluntly.
"Nothing," said Kurt, more or less as Will had expected. "I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say that it's been brought to my attention that my wish to sing a duet with another boy is predatory and inappropriate, and I have no right to ruin a straight boy's reputation by showing any kind of positive emotion towards him. So will you let me sing by myself?"
"Have you told Sam?" asked Will. "Maybe he doesn't think that way."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Mr. Schu," he began, in his patient, condescending, 'talking-to-teachers-who-just-don't-get-it' voice that Will knew all too well, "do you really think that if I tell Sam that he doesn't have to sing a duet with the gay kid, he's going to get all upset and beg me to reconsider? I'm doing him a favor. I'm sure he'll see it that way. The only reason he agreed to sing with me is because I was the first person to ask, and he's dumb and too new here to know what an obvious threat I am."
"Kurt, you really shouldn't talk about yourself that way."
Kurt sighed, and just stared at Will, not responding. Will wondered when the boy had started to look so resigned, when he'd lost that vibrancy that had always lit him up from the inside. Now he just looked... tired.
"Are you going to let me sing by myself, or not?" Kurt asked, finally.
"Sure, Kurt," said Will. "Are you really sure there's no one you want to sing with, though?"
For a split second, Will could see the heartbreak in Kurt's small, sad smile, before it faded back into dull, jaded acceptance. "Mr. Schu, you should know better than to think anyone cares what I want." And then he was gone, striding out the door with dignity and a sort of defiance that dared anyone to try and get close to him - arrogantly holding others at arm's length, desperate to see someone make the attempt.
Every time, it was just a little bit harder to get back up. The cold linoleum tile of the floor soaked into Kurt's skin through his clothes, and the locker behind him dug painfully into the freshest of his bruises. His own locker, with its brand new, bright message of "courage" was above him, but it felt miles away - given that he was unable to summon the energy even to stand, Kurt's locker might as well have been on the other side of the moon.
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. His body hurt - at least half a dozen new bruises this week, probably a record. He felt made of lead, weighing himself down. And his heart hurt. That was the thing about first kisses. Once they happened, that's the way it was forever. Kurt's first kiss was always going to be something that had been taken from him by force, without his consent. Nothing could change that now.
Kurt looked up. The open door of his locker loomed over him, distant and unmoved by his problems. "Courage," he thought. Whatever dregs of it there were left. He sighed, grabbed onto a nearby lock for support, and levered himself back to his feet.
"You sure you're okay by yourself?" asked Burt, frowning. Kurt waved him away. "I'm fine, Dad. I promise I won't do any of the really precision maintenance, okay? I'll leave that for you."
"Well, alright," said Burt skeptically. "I appreciate the research you did for me, though. I've never seen a LeCar in person before."
"Sure Dad, no problem."
Burt nodded, almost to himself, and stepped out of the garage into the small adjacent office to look over some paperwork. Kurt smiled at the beautiful red sports car left behind in the garage, running a hand over the clean, smooth lines of it. How could Mercedes ever have wanted to damage something so fine?
He opened the driver's door and slipped in behind the wheel, not starting the car, just reveling in the rich, luxurious feeling of the interior. His fingers caressed the soft, dark leather of the seats and the artistic curves of the dash. Sometimes, after everything he went through in a given day, it was nice to be alone with something so beautiful.
Kurt's feeling of pleasure faded. Beauty was something Kurt aspired to, this level of style and grace something he wanted to emulate. He'd always felt that if he could just be beautiful enough, moving enough, no one would touch him. No one ever wanted to destroy a work of art.
Except when they did. Mercedes had shoved tots up the tailpipe of Sue's LeCar.
And Dave Karofsky had threatened to kill him.
Kurt sighed, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel. The worst part was not even being scared, it was not knowing how scared to be. Should he take Karofsky seriously? He'd certainly said it seriously enough. Or was it just one of those things that people said? Like, "Oh, I'll kill you for that." Certainly Kurt had said it often enough himself - "I'll kill you if you stain my couch with that pizza" or "I'll kill you if you wrinkle this shirt - it's silk!" But this didn't feel the same, at least not to him.
What Kurt didn't know if Karofsky could ever do out of malice, he wasn't sure the bully wouldn't do out of fear. Kurt knew his secret. Kurt was the only one who knew his secret. And to protect that - out of fear of becoming what Kurt himself was, subject to the same terrifying whims of McKinley's more thuggish population - who knew what he'd do?
A full body shudder wracked Kurt's small frame, starting at the base of his spine and moving up through his shoulders, shaking him uncontrollably. Sometimes it got to him like this. Most of the time he coped with it, managed the fear, managed to brush it off and convince himself that Karofsky wasn't serious. But other times... other times he wondered if one day he might not just be another statistic. Another teen victim of homophobia. A hate crime waiting to happen.
Kurt could hear his own breathing, shallow and erratic. He forced himself to take a deep, lung-filling breath, and let it out slowly. The shaking passed, as it always did, along with the sudden, soul-wrenching spasm of panic. The fear filled him up, choked him, then drained away like water, as quickly as it had come.
Kurt took another deep breath and got out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him and rolled up his sleeves. No time for petty emotional indulgence. Now it was time to get to work on this beautiful machine. He'd make what repairs he could, and someone else would have to fix the rest.
Kurt clutched at his coffee cup, so hard that the cheap cardboard deformed, popping the lid from the top and spilling latte foam over the edge of his knuckles. Kurt swore quietly to himself and stuck his finger in his mouth, the light flash of pain from his burn nothing compared to the swelling rage inside of him.
It must not, could not happen again. Ever since he'd started high school, Rachel Berry had gotten everything Kurt had ever wanted. The solos. Defying Gravity. Finn. Every time Kurt wanted to take something for himself, Rachel was there to remind him what a freak he was for even considering something that only girls were supposed to want. That everything good that he'd ever coveted could easily have been his if only he'd been born a girl, and not a boy with a girl's voice and a girl's face and a girl's needs. And now here she was, the one time he'd actually let himself hope that maybe there was something, someone, out there for him, and Rachel fucking Berry couldn't leave well enough alone.
She knew he liked Blaine. He'd told her how he felt during the whole Valentine's Day debacle - she'd seen how smitten he was, how depressed he'd been. And yet somehow she seemed to think that the definition of being "friends" with Kurt meant "I get everything you want and you have to be happy for me." Screw her. Screw her!
And worse, Blaine knew how Kurt felt. He knew that Kurt had a crush on him - unless he'd somehow forgotten, which would be just Kurt's luck. And yet he'd asked Kurt point blank, like he couldn't possibly fathom it, why Kurt was upset that Blaine wanted to go on a date with one of Kurt's female friends. How could they do this to him? How could they throw this in his face so blatantly?
Well, not this time. He hadn't been able been able to keep Finn. He hadn't beaten Rachel at Defying Gravity, despite the fact that he knew he was better than her. He'd be damned if he was letting her have this one.
Blaine might not be for Kurt - he might not be The One that Kurt desperately wanted him to be, might even have forgotten that Kurt and his feelings ever existed. But he was sure as hell not going to be Rachel's either. This was one fight that Kurt would not back down from. Not this time.
Burt watched his son fidget nervously by the door, checking himself in the mirror for the fifth time in as many minutes. On the one hand it was kind of endearing, seeing his boy so excited. On the other hand, it was starting to make Burt nervous himself.
"You look fine," he told Kurt, hoping the boy would sit down.
Kurt at least seemed to notice that he was checking himself yet again and gave Burt a rueful smile. "Sorry. It's just... it's our first official date as a couple, and I... I want it to go perfectly, is all."
Burt nodded to himself absently, frowning. "Kurt, this Blaine kid though. Are you sure about him?"
Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, as if to say 'Really? We're doing this now?' "Dad, you've met Blaine. You like Blaine."
"I did," Burt admitted, "but that was when he was just your friend, before he was your boyfriend. I'm not so sure now."
The skeptical eyebrow became a full eye roll. "Really, Dad? Really?"
It was amazing how his own son managed to make him feel like a little kid sometimes. Burt was pretty sure Kurt had inherited that skeptical, blank-stone-wall look from his mother. It still worked just as well. "It's just... he's so smarmy..."
Kurt let out a little laugh, cut off quickly as though he hadn't meant to, and Burt could see that behind the skepticism he was still trying to keep up was honest amusement. "He's not smarmy, Dad, he's a gentleman. That's very important to me."
"Yeah, well you just make sure he stays a gentleman, and gets you home by ten-thirty, okay?"
"Okay Dad," said Kurt, his voice full of fond indulgence. When had he grown up so much, anyway? When had he stopped being a little kid and started being this... this person, this real, honest-to-god individual who didn't need his dad's support, and who could look on the man who raised him with a sort of fond distance, rather than need? Not that Burt wanted his son to return to the desperate, lost boy of last year, who'd panicked when he saw his father slipping even the smallest bit away from him. It was just... when had he stopped being a little boy, and become a young man? How had Burt not noticed it happen?
The doorbell rang, and Kurt jumped up, pulling the strap of his bag up on his shoulder. "That'll be him!" he said, his voice clipped and sharp with nerves. "See you, Dad! I'll be back later tonight!"
"Ten-thirty, remember!" Burt called after him. "And tell him that I've got a lot of power tools and heavy machinery in the garage, and I know how to use it!"
Kurt's laugh rang clear and happy in the air behind him as he left.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Gen, Blaine/Kurt
Author: Kagedtiger
Rating: PG (for angst)
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and all the lovely people who create it.
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Series: none
Summary: More Glee drabbles! Four moments of Kurt-centric angst, and one moment of happy fluff!
Will Schuster was having a good day. The kids were doing great with their duet assignments; they'd already heard one amazing performance, and he was guessing from some of the rehearsals he'd overheard that the others were going to be pretty darn good as well. Everyone in Glee was really warming up to the idea of competition, and Will loved to see them at their best like this.
He was in his office looking over some sheet music when there was a tentative knock on the door. "Come in!" he called absently, frowning at the piece he held. It was a bit more difficult than what they usually did, but at the rate the kids were going, maybe they could pull it off. He looked up as his door opened and a tired-looking Kurt Hummel entered.
"Hey Kurt!" he said cheerfully. "Have a seat! What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Schuster, I'd like to change what I put on the sign-up sheet for the duet competition."
"Oh?" Will wheeled his chair over to a table near the wall where some of his papers were stacked, shuffling through them in search of the tentative duet sign-up sheet he'd passed around during club. "Have you decided on a different song?"
"Sort of," said Kurt. He grabbed the strap of his bag a little tighter where it crossed over his shoulder. He still hadn't sat down. "I'm going to be doing my duet by myself."
"What?" Will stopped his search, turning to face Kurt incredulously. "Kurt, it's a duet competition. You can't do it by yourself."
"Well, I'm going to need you to give me special dispensation, then," said Kurt, his tone somewhat on edge.
"Kurt," said Will patiently, "I can't treat you differently than everyone else. It wouldn't be fair. Besides, weren't you signed up to sing with Sam? Isn't it a little unfair of you to just leave him in the lurch like that?"
"Trust me, Mr. Schu," said Kurt bitterly, "if I could just get up there and sing a duet with another boy and have it not cause some kind of nuclear apocalypse, or even have it be - heaven forbid - normal, I would. But that's not going to happen, and so we're both just going to have to accept it. If you don't let me sing by myself, then I'm not going to get to enter the competition at all."
Will paused before replying. He'd been trying to watch Kurt a lot more closely lately, ever since his dad had gone to the hospital. More and more lately Kurt was getting prickly and defensive, and he seemed to get more sarcastic the more hurt he felt. It made Will wonder what had precipitated this sudden change of heart for the duet contest.
"What happened?" he asked bluntly.
"Nothing," said Kurt, more or less as Will had expected. "I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say that it's been brought to my attention that my wish to sing a duet with another boy is predatory and inappropriate, and I have no right to ruin a straight boy's reputation by showing any kind of positive emotion towards him. So will you let me sing by myself?"
"Have you told Sam?" asked Will. "Maybe he doesn't think that way."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Mr. Schu," he began, in his patient, condescending, 'talking-to-teachers-who-just-don't-get-it' voice that Will knew all too well, "do you really think that if I tell Sam that he doesn't have to sing a duet with the gay kid, he's going to get all upset and beg me to reconsider? I'm doing him a favor. I'm sure he'll see it that way. The only reason he agreed to sing with me is because I was the first person to ask, and he's dumb and too new here to know what an obvious threat I am."
"Kurt, you really shouldn't talk about yourself that way."
Kurt sighed, and just stared at Will, not responding. Will wondered when the boy had started to look so resigned, when he'd lost that vibrancy that had always lit him up from the inside. Now he just looked... tired.
"Are you going to let me sing by myself, or not?" Kurt asked, finally.
"Sure, Kurt," said Will. "Are you really sure there's no one you want to sing with, though?"
For a split second, Will could see the heartbreak in Kurt's small, sad smile, before it faded back into dull, jaded acceptance. "Mr. Schu, you should know better than to think anyone cares what I want." And then he was gone, striding out the door with dignity and a sort of defiance that dared anyone to try and get close to him - arrogantly holding others at arm's length, desperate to see someone make the attempt.
Every time, it was just a little bit harder to get back up. The cold linoleum tile of the floor soaked into Kurt's skin through his clothes, and the locker behind him dug painfully into the freshest of his bruises. His own locker, with its brand new, bright message of "courage" was above him, but it felt miles away - given that he was unable to summon the energy even to stand, Kurt's locker might as well have been on the other side of the moon.
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. His body hurt - at least half a dozen new bruises this week, probably a record. He felt made of lead, weighing himself down. And his heart hurt. That was the thing about first kisses. Once they happened, that's the way it was forever. Kurt's first kiss was always going to be something that had been taken from him by force, without his consent. Nothing could change that now.
Kurt looked up. The open door of his locker loomed over him, distant and unmoved by his problems. "Courage," he thought. Whatever dregs of it there were left. He sighed, grabbed onto a nearby lock for support, and levered himself back to his feet.
"You sure you're okay by yourself?" asked Burt, frowning. Kurt waved him away. "I'm fine, Dad. I promise I won't do any of the really precision maintenance, okay? I'll leave that for you."
"Well, alright," said Burt skeptically. "I appreciate the research you did for me, though. I've never seen a LeCar in person before."
"Sure Dad, no problem."
Burt nodded, almost to himself, and stepped out of the garage into the small adjacent office to look over some paperwork. Kurt smiled at the beautiful red sports car left behind in the garage, running a hand over the clean, smooth lines of it. How could Mercedes ever have wanted to damage something so fine?
He opened the driver's door and slipped in behind the wheel, not starting the car, just reveling in the rich, luxurious feeling of the interior. His fingers caressed the soft, dark leather of the seats and the artistic curves of the dash. Sometimes, after everything he went through in a given day, it was nice to be alone with something so beautiful.
Kurt's feeling of pleasure faded. Beauty was something Kurt aspired to, this level of style and grace something he wanted to emulate. He'd always felt that if he could just be beautiful enough, moving enough, no one would touch him. No one ever wanted to destroy a work of art.
Except when they did. Mercedes had shoved tots up the tailpipe of Sue's LeCar.
And Dave Karofsky had threatened to kill him.
Kurt sighed, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel. The worst part was not even being scared, it was not knowing how scared to be. Should he take Karofsky seriously? He'd certainly said it seriously enough. Or was it just one of those things that people said? Like, "Oh, I'll kill you for that." Certainly Kurt had said it often enough himself - "I'll kill you if you stain my couch with that pizza" or "I'll kill you if you wrinkle this shirt - it's silk!" But this didn't feel the same, at least not to him.
What Kurt didn't know if Karofsky could ever do out of malice, he wasn't sure the bully wouldn't do out of fear. Kurt knew his secret. Kurt was the only one who knew his secret. And to protect that - out of fear of becoming what Kurt himself was, subject to the same terrifying whims of McKinley's more thuggish population - who knew what he'd do?
A full body shudder wracked Kurt's small frame, starting at the base of his spine and moving up through his shoulders, shaking him uncontrollably. Sometimes it got to him like this. Most of the time he coped with it, managed the fear, managed to brush it off and convince himself that Karofsky wasn't serious. But other times... other times he wondered if one day he might not just be another statistic. Another teen victim of homophobia. A hate crime waiting to happen.
Kurt could hear his own breathing, shallow and erratic. He forced himself to take a deep, lung-filling breath, and let it out slowly. The shaking passed, as it always did, along with the sudden, soul-wrenching spasm of panic. The fear filled him up, choked him, then drained away like water, as quickly as it had come.
Kurt took another deep breath and got out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him and rolled up his sleeves. No time for petty emotional indulgence. Now it was time to get to work on this beautiful machine. He'd make what repairs he could, and someone else would have to fix the rest.
Kurt clutched at his coffee cup, so hard that the cheap cardboard deformed, popping the lid from the top and spilling latte foam over the edge of his knuckles. Kurt swore quietly to himself and stuck his finger in his mouth, the light flash of pain from his burn nothing compared to the swelling rage inside of him.
It must not, could not happen again. Ever since he'd started high school, Rachel Berry had gotten everything Kurt had ever wanted. The solos. Defying Gravity. Finn. Every time Kurt wanted to take something for himself, Rachel was there to remind him what a freak he was for even considering something that only girls were supposed to want. That everything good that he'd ever coveted could easily have been his if only he'd been born a girl, and not a boy with a girl's voice and a girl's face and a girl's needs. And now here she was, the one time he'd actually let himself hope that maybe there was something, someone, out there for him, and Rachel fucking Berry couldn't leave well enough alone.
She knew he liked Blaine. He'd told her how he felt during the whole Valentine's Day debacle - she'd seen how smitten he was, how depressed he'd been. And yet somehow she seemed to think that the definition of being "friends" with Kurt meant "I get everything you want and you have to be happy for me." Screw her. Screw her!
And worse, Blaine knew how Kurt felt. He knew that Kurt had a crush on him - unless he'd somehow forgotten, which would be just Kurt's luck. And yet he'd asked Kurt point blank, like he couldn't possibly fathom it, why Kurt was upset that Blaine wanted to go on a date with one of Kurt's female friends. How could they do this to him? How could they throw this in his face so blatantly?
Well, not this time. He hadn't been able been able to keep Finn. He hadn't beaten Rachel at Defying Gravity, despite the fact that he knew he was better than her. He'd be damned if he was letting her have this one.
Blaine might not be for Kurt - he might not be The One that Kurt desperately wanted him to be, might even have forgotten that Kurt and his feelings ever existed. But he was sure as hell not going to be Rachel's either. This was one fight that Kurt would not back down from. Not this time.
Burt watched his son fidget nervously by the door, checking himself in the mirror for the fifth time in as many minutes. On the one hand it was kind of endearing, seeing his boy so excited. On the other hand, it was starting to make Burt nervous himself.
"You look fine," he told Kurt, hoping the boy would sit down.
Kurt at least seemed to notice that he was checking himself yet again and gave Burt a rueful smile. "Sorry. It's just... it's our first official date as a couple, and I... I want it to go perfectly, is all."
Burt nodded to himself absently, frowning. "Kurt, this Blaine kid though. Are you sure about him?"
Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, as if to say 'Really? We're doing this now?' "Dad, you've met Blaine. You like Blaine."
"I did," Burt admitted, "but that was when he was just your friend, before he was your boyfriend. I'm not so sure now."
The skeptical eyebrow became a full eye roll. "Really, Dad? Really?"
It was amazing how his own son managed to make him feel like a little kid sometimes. Burt was pretty sure Kurt had inherited that skeptical, blank-stone-wall look from his mother. It still worked just as well. "It's just... he's so smarmy..."
Kurt let out a little laugh, cut off quickly as though he hadn't meant to, and Burt could see that behind the skepticism he was still trying to keep up was honest amusement. "He's not smarmy, Dad, he's a gentleman. That's very important to me."
"Yeah, well you just make sure he stays a gentleman, and gets you home by ten-thirty, okay?"
"Okay Dad," said Kurt, his voice full of fond indulgence. When had he grown up so much, anyway? When had he stopped being a little kid and started being this... this person, this real, honest-to-god individual who didn't need his dad's support, and who could look on the man who raised him with a sort of fond distance, rather than need? Not that Burt wanted his son to return to the desperate, lost boy of last year, who'd panicked when he saw his father slipping even the smallest bit away from him. It was just... when had he stopped being a little boy, and become a young man? How had Burt not noticed it happen?
The doorbell rang, and Kurt jumped up, pulling the strap of his bag up on his shoulder. "That'll be him!" he said, his voice clipped and sharp with nerves. "See you, Dad! I'll be back later tonight!"
"Ten-thirty, remember!" Burt called after him. "And tell him that I've got a lot of power tools and heavy machinery in the garage, and I know how to use it!"
Kurt's laugh rang clear and happy in the air behind him as he left.