Retconning What Was Jossed
Media: Fic
Title: Retconning What Was Jossed
Author: Ubervirgin
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Spoilers (If any): Slight spoilers for 2x09
Warnings (If any): Slightly cracky
Word Count: around 500 maybe
Summary: Wes had a horrible nightmare. David needs to know about it. STAT.
Also, can I have an author tag? I have other, less crack-type, stories in the works. ^_^
Now with added Kurt/Blaine!
“David. David. David. Wake up, David. Wake up.”
“Oh my God. Wes, it is the ass crack of dawn. What do you want?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“…Really? You had a bad dream? You woke me up because you had a bad dream?”
Earnest eyes look up at David from the side of the bed.
“Not just any bad dream. The worst dream ever. I dreamt that we were total conformist douches. The Warblers had a council and we were on it and we were mean to Kurt and Blaine was condescending and Kurt wasn’t happy at Dalton at all okay he might have been happy but he wasn’t really happy even though he was safe and there was some pretty heavy handed symbolism about him being in a gilded cage and everything but it was still kind of sad.”
“We were mean and Kurt was sad. That’s it?”
“Pavarotti was molting.”
“I am way too tired to deal with this. Just get in and we’ll deal with it in the morning.”
Wes crept into David’s bed and snuggled against him.
“Was the dream really that bad?”
“We told Kurt to tone it down and Blaine told him to stop trying so hard and just relax and he’d fit in.”
“So we were pretty much the Borg and Kurt was the pretty ensign that may have a chance at making it to the end of the episode if the writers decide not to use said ensign as a teaching tool.”
“Yes.”
“Wes. The Borg never really win in the end. Dream Kurt probably rescued himself and then went shoe shopping.”
“Oh…okay then. G’night.”
“Try to keep your cold feet off of me.”
“I make no promises, Blanket Thief.”
****THE NEXT MORNING****
“Blaine. Your friends are being weird again. Make them stop.”
“What did they do this time?”
“Wes has been following me around all day asking me to, and I quote, “Never stop being the Fabulous young man” that I am and to “continue being the unique and brave little toaster that graces Dalton Academy with my presence” while David has been constantly asking me if I am feeling pressured by anything or anyone.”
“…”
“They serenaded me at lunch. They serenaded me with Katy Perry’s Firework. By themselves. There were no Warblers. There was a distinct lack of you. And yet, there was Katy Perry.”
“…”
“And I got a call from my dad because he said a boy called his garage with promises to make sure that I would be looked after and would not be assimilated.”
“…”
“Why aren’t you helping me?”
“They called me the Borg Queen.” The calm mask sunk into a pout.
“What?”
“Wes called me the Borg Queen and said that I couldn’t assimilate you and that I was supposed to be a gentleman and not try to put you in a cage.”
“You lost me.”
“Am I stifling your creative voice?”
“What? No! Why is everyone around here concerned with my creativity? Is this a private school thing? This sounds like a private school thing.”
“And I’m not condescending?”
“Sometimes, but I’m a bitch. Who am I to judge?”
“I don’t know what to do about Wes and David. I don’t think they will listen to me if they think I’m the Borg Queen.”
Sighing, Kurt sinks down next to Blaine.
“Want to hide from them in my room? We can play Left 4 Dead. You know how much the witch freaks out Wes.”
Blaine sniffs, nodding at Kurt.
Kurt stands and holds out a hand to Blaine. “Come on. You’ll feel better after killing some zombies.”
"Technically, you don't need "some" in that sentence. You could just say..."
"You are seriously affecting the amount of sympathy cuddles you could receive."
"Let's go kill some zombies!"
Title: Retconning What Was Jossed
Author: Ubervirgin
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Spoilers (If any): Slight spoilers for 2x09
Warnings (If any): Slightly cracky
Word Count: around 500 maybe
Summary: Wes had a horrible nightmare. David needs to know about it. STAT.
Also, can I have an author tag? I have other, less crack-type, stories in the works. ^_^
Now with added Kurt/Blaine!
“David. David. David. Wake up, David. Wake up.”
“Oh my God. Wes, it is the ass crack of dawn. What do you want?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“…Really? You had a bad dream? You woke me up because you had a bad dream?”
Earnest eyes look up at David from the side of the bed.
“Not just any bad dream. The worst dream ever. I dreamt that we were total conformist douches. The Warblers had a council and we were on it and we were mean to Kurt and Blaine was condescending and Kurt wasn’t happy at Dalton at all okay he might have been happy but he wasn’t really happy even though he was safe and there was some pretty heavy handed symbolism about him being in a gilded cage and everything but it was still kind of sad.”
“We were mean and Kurt was sad. That’s it?”
“Pavarotti was molting.”
“I am way too tired to deal with this. Just get in and we’ll deal with it in the morning.”
Wes crept into David’s bed and snuggled against him.
“Was the dream really that bad?”
“We told Kurt to tone it down and Blaine told him to stop trying so hard and just relax and he’d fit in.”
“So we were pretty much the Borg and Kurt was the pretty ensign that may have a chance at making it to the end of the episode if the writers decide not to use said ensign as a teaching tool.”
“Yes.”
“Wes. The Borg never really win in the end. Dream Kurt probably rescued himself and then went shoe shopping.”
“Oh…okay then. G’night.”
“Try to keep your cold feet off of me.”
“I make no promises, Blanket Thief.”
****THE NEXT MORNING****
“Blaine. Your friends are being weird again. Make them stop.”
“What did they do this time?”
“Wes has been following me around all day asking me to, and I quote, “Never stop being the Fabulous young man” that I am and to “continue being the unique and brave little toaster that graces Dalton Academy with my presence” while David has been constantly asking me if I am feeling pressured by anything or anyone.”
“…”
“They serenaded me at lunch. They serenaded me with Katy Perry’s Firework. By themselves. There were no Warblers. There was a distinct lack of you. And yet, there was Katy Perry.”
“…”
“And I got a call from my dad because he said a boy called his garage with promises to make sure that I would be looked after and would not be assimilated.”
“…”
“Why aren’t you helping me?”
“They called me the Borg Queen.” The calm mask sunk into a pout.
“What?”
“Wes called me the Borg Queen and said that I couldn’t assimilate you and that I was supposed to be a gentleman and not try to put you in a cage.”
“You lost me.”
“Am I stifling your creative voice?”
“What? No! Why is everyone around here concerned with my creativity? Is this a private school thing? This sounds like a private school thing.”
“And I’m not condescending?”
“Sometimes, but I’m a bitch. Who am I to judge?”
“I don’t know what to do about Wes and David. I don’t think they will listen to me if they think I’m the Borg Queen.”
Sighing, Kurt sinks down next to Blaine.
“Want to hide from them in my room? We can play Left 4 Dead. You know how much the witch freaks out Wes.”
Blaine sniffs, nodding at Kurt.
Kurt stands and holds out a hand to Blaine. “Come on. You’ll feel better after killing some zombies.”
"Technically, you don't need "some" in that sentence. You could just say..."
"You are seriously affecting the amount of sympathy cuddles you could receive."
"Let's go kill some zombies!"