Fic: Because You Left, Chapter Four
Title: Because You Left, Chapter Four: The Substitute
Pairing/Character(s): In this chapter -- Ben, Blaine, Kurt, Juliet, Holly Holliday, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, and Karofsky. Other glee-clubbers mentioned.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Karofsky harassing Kurt, implied threats of retaliation, possible mood whiplash
Word Count: About 7,000
Spoilers: Potential spoilers (kind of) for all six seasons of LOST, and up to Glee 2X07, "The Substitute"
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee or LOST, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this.
Summary: Everyone is suspicious, and yet no one suspects a thing.
Author's Notes: This is a Glee/LOST AU crossover. Fic is a work in progress, but I do have a substantial backlog of chapters to post while I work on the newest ones. I hope to post once a week, on Sundays, barring fire, flood, corset-related disasters, and/or LJ outages. Previous chapters and supplemental materials can be found on the masterpost.
None of this would be possible without rena_librarian, who has corrected my typos, cheered me when I was in despair, put up with all of my whining, and listened to me go on and on about how the baby they found for Ji Yeon was like the prettiest baby ever. (Seriously, though. That was one pretty baby.)
"I'm a terrible person," Kurt sighs, sinking down on Blaine's neatly made bed.
"No, you're not," Blaine says, and it could almost be too quick, like he's saying it on reflex. But then it could not be, either, and Blaine's been pretty sincere so far, and God knows it's not like Kurt can't be too suspicious sometimes, so he figures maybe he should take it on faith.
"It's just..." Kurt sighs again, taking one last look at the terrifying number of Missed Call messages on his phone before setting it face down on the bed next to him. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with Mercedes. I do. Of course I do. I just... I feel like the entire time, I'm going to just be sitting there, thinking about it, and wondering if I should tell her or if I shouldn't, because if I don't she'll know I'm hiding something but if I do then it'll be all over the school by Monday and I just can't do that. I mean, even if it didn't go horribly wrong and end in me getting killed, which it probably would, he’d probably get killed and I know I shouldn't... It's not that I feel sorry for him, because I don't, but that doesn't mean... That doesn't mean I want to hurt him."
"'Course not," Blaine murmurs, and sits down next to him, his hands folded in his lap.
"But it's all I can think about and right now I just... It's stupid, I know, but it's hard enough just being around my father, or Carole and Finn, or whatever. I just need ten minutes with someone who... With someone who knows. You know?" And Kurt looks up, expecting to see Blaine looking back at him with wide, hazel eyes, full of sincerity and promise. Instead, he gets Blaine staring at his hands, lost in thought. "Okay," he says, briskly. "What's wrong?"
That makes Blaine look up, quickly, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Kurt," he says. "Sorry. I wasn't -- it's not you, I promise. I just..."
"Blaine, if I thought it was me, I'd ask you what I'd done wrong," he says, although that's not strictly true and he knows it. Blaine doesn't, so he feels it's something he can get away with. "You've been distracted all afternoon. What's wrong? You're not... I mean, your dad's not weird about having me over, is he? He's not upset about the -- You know, about me being --"
"No!" Blaine says, and this time it is pretty quick, but Kurt decides to let him get away with it just this once. "No, Kurt, that's not -- It's not a problem, believe me. My dad, he's... he's really good about me being gay, and you being..." Blaine sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "It's not a problem. Really. Okay, Kurt?"
"Okay," Kurt says, quietly, and watches Blaine's face. He's so transparent sometimes; not all the time, but sometimes. Like every feeling is just right there, and Kurt has to wonder how he can get through the day sometimes, with everything so much on the surface.
"I just..." Blaine gives Kurt the oddest look, then, something longing and conflicted and scared, and Kurt wants to reach out but he can't quite make himself do it; he doesn't know if Blaine would pull back or lash out or what, and he's not sure he could take that right now. "It's this dream. It's... Ever since I was a little kid, I've been having the same dream -- not all the time, but, you know, enough that I remember it by now. And every time I have it, it's like... I know that something's going to happen. Something bad." He glances up at Kurt. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds crazy. I just..."
"It doesn't," Kurt says, and places one hand over both of Blaine's before he can talk himself out of it. Blaine blinks at him, then blinks down at Kurt's hand covering his, like he can't quite figure out what Kurt is doing. "It doesn't sound crazy at all."
Because Kurt knows about things like this, about the weird associations people make sometimes, and how they can take hold and make people push their memories into patterns, remembering what fits and then forgetting what doesn't. And maybe that means he doesn't believe that Blaine's dreams can predict the future, or anything, but it doesn't mean that he thinks Blaine is crazy either. He's just normal, doing what normal people do. That's all.
"Can I ask..." And he shouldn't, really, but Blaine's looking at him like he can't quite believe he's real, and it's making Kurt get ahead of himself. "What kind of bad things happen? When you have the dream?"
Blaine shudders, staring at his hands again. "Bad," he whispers, sounding frightened enough to send a shudder up Kurt's spine, even if he doesn't really believe in premonitions or anything. "I can't... It's not like I don't trust you, Kurt, because I do, I promise, I just..."
"Hey," Kurt says, trying to say it the way Blaine said it to him, kind and patient and soothing. He's pretty sure it doesn't sound as good coming from him. "Hey, no, it's okay. I mean, you just met me, so I'm not... You don't have to tell me everything. I understand."
"But you've trusted me," Blaine says, and his hands shift a little so that Kurt's is trapped between them. "You've trusted me with so much, and I don't want to -- it's not that I don't want to, I just --"
"Whenever you're ready," Kurt says, and Blaine exhales, his body slumping a little into Kurt's and making Kurt want to promise more, promise everything. "It doesn't have to be right now. When you're ready."
"I just..." And it's funny, how Blaine is getting heavier against Kurt's shoulder and Kurt feels like he should really be hating that, but he can't hate it at all. "I kind of don't want to think about it right now. You know?"
It's kind of a stupid question; of course, Kurt knows, didn't he just say -- "Then don't," he suggests, and leans back into Blaine just a little, propping him up. Actually, he really doesn't hate this at all. It's actually really pretty nice. He's been leaning on everyone else for God knows how long now, and it's just not like him; he feels better when he's got someone to support. "I won't think about things either. We can not-think together. Watch a movie or something."
Blaine's gratitude is so obvious that it almost hurts to see it. "Really?" he asks, then shakes his head. "Sorry. I mean, yeah. Of course. We'll... we'll watch a movie." He stands up without letting go of Kurt's hand, dragging him up, too, then drops Kurt's hand as soon as he realizes what he's doing. "Sorry! Sorry, I was just... I..."
"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt says, laughing a little, and smooths his clothing out before reaching out to take Blaine's hand again. Blaine squeezes his fingers tight, and gives him that look of unbearable gratitude that kind of makes Kurt want to wrap himself around Blaine and give the rest of the world the finger. "Come on. Let's go watch a movie. Unless you think your dad would mind?"
"He doesn't mind, Kurt," Blaine says again, but now he sounds a little uncertain. "I mean... he shouldn't, because he likes to work in the kitchen, but his back's been hurting him a lot lately, so he might need to be somewhere more comfortable for a while, so maybe we shouldn't... Or we could..."
And it's the weirdest thing, but Kurt suddenly feels like he knows exactly what Blaine's dream was about, and what Blaine is so frightened of now. "We could pick something he likes?" he suggests. "And then if he wants to, he can take a break and watch it with us. I wouldn't mind."
Blaine's eyes are huge; he looks at Kurt like he can't believe he's real, and it makes Kurt want to preen, just a little bit. "Really?" he asks again.
"Really," Kurt says, and tugs Blaine out towards the living room. "Come on. Let's see what your dad wants to do."
*
"I was wondering when you'd come to apologize," Ben says, barely glancing up from his book as Juliet settles down at his table in the faculty lounge.
She doesn't answer right away, just reaches out to lift the spine of the book, raising it off the table so she can see the cover. "Carrie," she says, quietly. "One of my favorites."
Ben lifts his eyes from the page, looking at her. She seems calm enough, but there's that little pinched something around the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Really?" he asks. "It's pretty depressing. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I'm reading it."
"Ben," Juliet says, but doesn't keep going. She presses her lips together, looks at the table, looks back up at Ben. "No lunch today?"
Ben just shrugs and turns the page. "I'm fasting."
"For religious reasons?" she asks, and Ben can't quite resist giving her a look at that. The only relief is that she doesn't seem particularly pleased with herself over finally eking out a reaction from him. "Tests today?"
"You knew that already," Ben reminds her, stopping just shy of pointing out the fact that she's obviously chosen today to talk to him again for that reason and that reason only. Because honestly, he could stand to talk to someone with a bit of knowledge about these things, and she knows that. He could use some comfort, or at least some information, something to ease his mind. He's vulnerable. And Juliet knows and she's attempting to take advantage of it.
She could be slightly less obvious about it, at least.
"Are you nervous?" she asks, leaning in a little bit.
Ben scoffs. "Nervous? About the large, quite possibly cancerous mass surrounding the base of my spine?" He keeps his eyes on the page, even though he hasn't actually managed to read any of the words on it. "Of course not, Juliet. Don't be silly. I'm perfectly calm about my tumor."
"Ben," Juliet says again, a little more desperately, and covers the book with her hand.
"Ben Anderson," someone else says, cheerfully, and Ben looks up, blinking. There's a woman standing at the edge of the table; a blonde, with a short skirt and long legs. She's attractive enough, Ben thinks. She's also a total stranger to him. "Am I right? You're Ben Anderson. Blaine's dad." The woman holds out her hand, and Ben stands to take it. "Signora Holliday. I subbed for Blaine's Italian class for a few weeks. Nice kid. Really good accent."
"Oh," Ben says, still a little perplexed. "Yes. Well. I'm sorry I don't quite recall meeting you, but..."
"Oh, we never really met met," Miss Holliday says, sliding into Ben's empty seat, and Ben has to pull a chair from a nearby table just to be able to sit down, squeezed awkwardly between Juliet and Miss Holliday. "But I saw you when you came to pick him up sometimes. And I figured you weren't dressed well enough to be a butler or a chauffeur, so that pretty much meant you had to be his dad. Or, you know, a pedophile. One of the two."
For the first time in a long time, Ben actually feels his jaw drop. Just a little, but still.
"Not that I really thought you were --" Miss Holliday laughs. "Sorry. I don't know why I always say things like that. Fortunately it doesn't happen in the classroom. I mean, not that often. There was this one time -- I was subbing for a history class and we were talking about J. Edgar Hoover and I kind of got carried away, you know, and ... Long story short, that was the last time I was invited to teach a class at Defiance Christian Academy. But apart from that and the... you know, the incident over in Fostoria, I'm usually pretty good. In the classroom."
She beams at Ben.
He turns to Juliet for assistance, only to find her pushing her chair back and standing up. "Well," she says, clearing her throat. "On that note. I've still got that monkey flu outbreak to deal with, so. Nice to meet you, Signora Holliday." She takes a few steps away from the table, then turns and looks back at Ben for just a moment. "Good luck today, Ben," she says, quietly.
It sobers him up instantly, reminds him that he's got far worse things to deal with today than a slightly unusual substitute teacher. "Thank you," he replies, and watches her walk away.
As soon as she's gone, Miss Holliday is leaning over the table, pushing into Ben's space, her eyes wide. "Monkey flu?"
"Our new principal is... somewhat prone to exaggeration," Ben says, as gently as he can. There's no possible way for him to explain to this woman what Principal Sue is like; she'd never believe him. She'll have to see for herself. "It's an ordinary flu virus, the same thing we deal with every year. Nothing too terrible."
"That's a shame." Ben blinks at her, and she backtracks again. "Sorry, sorry. I mean, it's not like I get excited by infectious diseases or anything, although they are kind of crucial to my ability to actually get a job, so. But it would be kind of exciting, wouldn't it? Like Outbreak or something."
She seems genuinely enthused by the idea, and Ben can't quite keep himself from frowning. "Perhaps," he says, as politely as possible. "Anyway, I have some... some grading to do." He stands, not bothering to grab his book; it really was depressing, anyway. He'll find another way to occupy himself for the remainder of his lunch period. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Holliday. I'll... I'll see you around, I'm sure."
She winks at him. "You bet you will," she says, grinning. "And call me Holly."
"Holly," Ben says, managing to smile back at her.
"You know," she says, as he turns to leave. "I've always kind of had this thing for single dads. Which is weird, because I hate stability. So I don't even know what that's about. But there's just something about a guy who cares that much about someone else. I don't know. It just... It does it for me."
Two tables away, the football coach lets out a choking noise that might be laughter, shock, or both.
Ben turns back and nods at Miss Holliday; it's a little stiff, perhaps, but at least it's a gesture. "Have a good day, Miss Holliday," he says, as politely as possible.
Then he basely flees the room.
*
"Okay," Kurt says, reaching across the table to snag a chip from Mercedes' nachos, one with just the barest amount of cheese on it. It's always been a little weird eating with Kurt, but ever since his dad had that heart attack, it's been super weird. It's like he's convinced himself that if he eats anything bad, it's like his dad is eating it too. So just seeing him in Taco Bell is kind of really strange at this point, let alone watching him actually eat something. "So was this the best idea ever, or was this the best idea ever?"
"Miss Holliday's pretty cool," Mercedes admits, watching their substitute lean over the table she's sharing with Santana and Quinn, whispering to them and making them burst into giggles. "But what about Mr. Schue? I mean, we do want him back. Don't we?"
"Oh, of course we do," Kurt says, brushing nacho crumbs off on a napkin and reaching out to take a sip of his diet Pepsi. He hasn't had pop for a while, either. It's been water, mostly. Water or tea. She's been trying to get him to go out for Orange Julius with her for weeks, but he won't. "I just... I mean, he'll probably be gone for at least a week, Mercedes, and what would you rather do? Spend every day wondering if this is the day that Satan finally manages to break free and claw Rachel's eyes out? Or would you rather have fun?" He snags another chip, this one with a little more cheese. "Seriously, Mercedes, it's not like this year's been great so far. We could use some kind of... a vacation. Don't you think? Just to let our hair down. Just for a little while."
The thing is, Mercedes knows exactly who needs the vacation right now. She knows who's been having the worst year out of all of them, who's under the most pressure right now, who's most in need of a break. And he's sitting right in front of her, sneaking her chips. “Yeah," she says. "Yeah, you're right."
Kurt leans back in his chair, smiling. He has been smiling a lot more lately, at least. Ever since last week, when he went to Dalton. When he met Blaine. "Of course I'm right," he says, easily. "I'm always right." He grabs one last chip and pops it into his mouth with a self-satisfied expression, and for just a second, Mercedes thinks she gets it. This is Kurt's vacation; this is the break he needs in order to come back to them and be himself again. And she's okay with that. She really is.
Then Kurt's phone buzzes, and his face lights up when he pulls it out to check his texts, and maybe Mercedes isn't as quite as okay with this as she'd like to be. But she's gonna try. "So," she says, and plasters a smile on her face. "Big plans with Blaine?"
Kurt frowns down at his phone a little bit, eyebrows drawing together. "Oh, just trying to figure out when to meet, really. His dad's got a doctor's appointment today; he's not sure when it gets over, and then Blaine's still got to take him home, so..." He starts punching out his message, immediately lost in it, like Mercedes isn't there at all.
But the thing is, she’s not jealous. Yeah, she’s upset right now, a little, but it’s not because she’s jealous. It just... It seems a little weird, Blaine taking his dad home instead of Blaine's dad taking him home. Kind of suspicious. But then, maybe it's a single-parent kind of thing, like with Kurt going to all his dad's appointments.
Except, even Kurt didn't do that, really. Not before the heart attack, anyway. After it, of course he did. But never before. "Is he sick?" she asks, leaning in a little bit. "Blaine's dad; is there something wrong with him?"
"I don't know." Kurt's voice is absent, a little, thoughtful. He types out one last thing, then sets his phone down. "Blaine hasn't really said anything about it. But I kind of get this feeling that maybe he might be, you know? Or that Blaine thinks he is. He seems..." Kurt shakes his head. "I don't know. I'm sure Blaine will say something, sooner or later."
"Maybe," Mercedes says, but she can't help but feel a little doubtful. Not jealous, not at all. Just doubtful. "I don't know, though. Wouldn't he tell you? You told us about your dad."
Kurt just shakes his head. "I told you about my dad," he says, giving her a funny, sad little smile. "I didn't exactly go around telling everyone else. The way Finn talks about it, it's like he and I never spoke about it at all, which is ridiculous, but whatever." He sighs and sips his pop. "And... I mean, yes, Blaine and I have connected on a certain level, but still. He's only known me for a week. If something serious is going on... I don't know if I'd talk to me either."
"I would," Mercedes says, partially because it's true and partially because she knows it'll make Kurt's smile broaden and his eyes brighten. And even if it's not the same way that a text from Blaine makes him light up... Well, it's still something. "And if something's wrong and he doesn't talk to you about it, then he's a dummy."
"Hmmm." But Kurt's smile is exactly the way Mercedes wants it to be, full and real and just for her.
It's not enough, though, so she pushes it a little further. "And if he keeps acting strange, you bring him to me and I'll tell him what's what."
That makes Kurt laugh a little, and this time, when he reaches across the table, he leaves his hand over hers, palm down, waiting patiently until her hand turns palm up, and they can flutter their fingers together before sweeping back imaginary bangs. Once again, Mercedes thinks that she can be happy for Kurt. If this guy is legit, if he's good to her boy, she can be happy for him.
As long as it means she gets her Kurt back, in the end.
*
"I just can't figure this out. I mean, why would Kurt do this to me? To us? He knows how close we are to Sectionals, and how important it is that we --"
"Rachel," Finn says, and it kind of comes out more like a sigh, which makes her give him a dirty look. Which he doesn't like, like at all, but on the other hand, he's kind of starting to feel like maybe she's overreacting a little bit. On the other other hand, they're sitting in his truck right now, which means that if she gets mad at him it's going to be really hard for him to get away. But on the other other other hand, it is kind of weird that he's this scared of making Rachel mad, and while he knows better than to take relationship advice (or any kind of advice) from Puckerman, he's starting to think that all those comments about him being "whipped" might be kind of a little maybe true. "Look, maybe this is a good thing. I mean, we kind of have to have a teacher, right? It's like, the rules or something. If we didn't, Principal Sue would probably ban glee club forever. I mean, yeah, Miss Holliday's not the most serious teacher ever --"
"She took us to Taco Bell, Finn!"
"But she did have us sing first," Finn says, trying to sound reasonable. He should have practiced with Kurt, first. Kurt's good at sounding reasonable, except for when he isn't. "And she probably won't do that every day." Which is kind of a bummer, really, because Finn could totally get used to scarfing down a few burritos before football practice. He thinks it's probably a good thing, like people who eat pasta before they run (although the one time he tried that, he totally barfed everywhere, but he figures that was just because he hadn't let his body get used to the idea). "Look, at least she's not actively trying to destroy us, right? Or actively trying to... you know. Like... Mr. Ryerson, or whatever."
He wonders if maybe he should point out that Puck said that Mike said that Artie said he saw Mr. Ryerson being dragged out of the building by Coach Beiste today. Artie's a reliable source. Maybe Rachel would feel better if she knew how much worse it could have been. "Actually," he says, trying to work his way around to it, but Rachel lifts her shoulder a little bit and turns away from him, staring out the window like she's pissed, and it kind of makes him forget how to talk.
Sometimes he wonders why he always winds up liking girls that scare him a lot.
"Maybe," Rachel says, a little bitterly. "Although I have to say that if those are our only other options, that says something awful about the state of McKinley in general, and I for one find it quite depressing."
"Totally," Finn says, because okay, he can get on board with that. "Look, Rachel, I know you're worried. And I am too, don't get me wrong, but --"
And for just a second, he realizes that he could make a totally awesome speech right now about how sometimes they're best when they're loose, like last year at Sectionals when they had to learn their songs like half an hour before the performance and Mr. Schue wasn't there for that either but he and Rachel figured it all out and they won and so it all worked out, but then Rachel grabs his arm and she's like super-strong and it actually kind of hurts a little, and he forgets what he was going to say.
"Finn!" Rachel hisses, stabbing at the window with her finger. "Finn! We're being infiltrated."
He blinks at her, then at the window, trying to remember what infiltrated means. He's pretty sure it has something to do with cars, maybe, but then he's also pretty sure that his car windows don't have filters, so --
"That boy," Rachel says, leaning so close to the window that her nose presses against the glass, dragging Finn along with her until he almost falls into her lap and has to catch himself with one arm against the back of her seat. "That boy is wearing a Dalton Academy uniform. He's a spy, Finn. A spy."
Oh. That's what infiltrated means. Now he remembers.
"We sent Kurt to spy on them," he reasons. "They probably just figured they should spy back." But he stays where he is, leaning over Rachel and peering out the window, trying to figure out who he's supposed to be looking at. There's a lot of people in the parking lot -- all the glee kids getting back from Taco Bell, everyone else on their way out to go home (or maybe go to Taco Bell themselves -- he'd totally head off for Taco Bell after classes if he hadn't already been), and it takes him a while to figure out which person is the spy. Finally, he spots a kid in a blazer and tie, which wouldn't be that unusual if it were Kurt, but he's pretty sure this guy's too short to be Kurt. Also, he's talking to someone who Finn is pretty sure is one of the math teachers, and Kurt hates math, so.
Except then he sees Kurt hurrying across the parking lot to join them, so maybe Kurt likes math more than he thought.
Although at least now he knows that Kurt didn't change into a blazer sometime between going to Taco Bell and heading back to the school, and also that Kurt is, in fact, as tall as he thought he was. Which is reassuring.
Rachel's hand tightens on his arm. "Oh my God," she whispers. "He's been turned."
"Rachel," Finn says, and tries not to roll his eyes. "Just because Kurt's talking to a math teacher doesn't mean that he's --"
"What math teacher?" Rachel asks, then shakes her head and cuts Finn off before he can answer. "Never mind. Honestly, I don't know what you were thinking, sending Kurt to an all-boys school to spy. It's like throwing a lamb into a lions' den. He never had a chance." She sniffles dramatically. (And it blows Finn's mind sometimes, how she can sniffle dramatically. He just sounds gross when he does it.) "Poor Kurt. It'll break his heart when he realizes that prep-school Lothario is just using him to get to our set list."
Finn frowns out the window. It's hard to tell from here, but he kind of feels like the short kid in the Dalton uniform isn't particularly interested in using Kurt. Mostly, he seems interested in the math teacher guy next to him. "I don't know, Rachel," he says, slowly. "I mean, if he's here to use Kurt, why was Kurt the one to talk to him? And how come he's been hanging out with one of our teachers? Look, see? They're getting in a car together." Because they are -- the blazer kid opens the door for the math teacher, then watches him climb in, then closes the door. Then, and only then, does he turn back to Kurt. They talk a little -- not touching or anything, just talking, and then the blazer kid climbs in the driver's side. Kurt gives him a little wave, then folds his arms, watching as the car pulls away.
Rachel presses her lips together, staring intently out the window. "This must be part of their master plan," she whispers. "But what is it?" She straightens up, pushing back on Finn's shoulders until he stops leaning across her lap. Which is a shame, because it was kind of a good position to be in, even if it was, like, spy drama and stuff, and not really sexy. "Right," she says. "Okay. It's fine. We can counter this. But we need more information. You need to talk to Kurt. Find out who's been seducing him. Be discreet."
"Seducing him?" Finn repeats, a little bewildered, and also a little... Because, okay, it's not like he thinks it's gross in general or anything, but Kurt's like almost practically his brother at this point, and the point of being brothers with someone is that you don't think about them doing sex stuff. It's, like, in the rules. "Rachel, I really don't think --"
"And I'll work on figuring out who his accomplice is," Rachel says, rummaging through her purse. "You said you thought he was a math teacher, right?"
She pulls out a pen and a pad of paper, like a detective. It's kind of sexy, in a weird way.
"Yeah," Finn says. "Yeah, I think Artie has class with him, or something. They were talking in the hall the other day. Hey, Rachel, you don't really think that guy... I mean, you don't think he'd actually, like... seduce Kurt, or..."
"It's okay," Rachel says, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. "We'll stop him before he breaks Kurt's heart. I promise you, Finn. No more Jesse St. James scenarios."
"Okay," Finn says. Because yeah, the kid doesn't seem like he's trying to break Kurt's heart, not like Jesse really obviously seemed like he was trying to break Rachel's. But if he is, then Finn needs to stop him, because that's also part of the point of being someone's brother. You don't let their hearts get broken. It's in the rules. "Okay, cool."
Rachel beams at him, and kisses him again, and Finn decides he's totally down for this whole saving Kurt thing. It's going to be great.
*
Hummel's still watching the parking lot, staring at where the Andersons' car used to be; it's easy for Dave to come up right behind him, lean in, and whisper, "Boyfriend's not here to save you now, Hummel," and watch Kurt jump, turning a little bit as he does so, the shift in his weight making him stumble and almost fall into a parked car next to him.
It's pointless, of course. If the goal is to get Anderson's attention, there's no reason for him to go after Hummel right now, with no one there to see them.
It's just that there's something really satisfying in watching the last of the color drain from Hummel's face.
He straightens up, like he always does, grabbing the strap of his bag with one hand. "What do you want, Karofsky?" he snaps, but he's backing away the entire time, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure he doesn't run into anything.
Dave stays with him, still leaning in. For just a couple of seconds, it's like the parking lot isn't there at all, like there's no other people around. It's just him, and Hummel, the way it should've been from the start. "What do I want?" he repeats, and realizes he doesn't know what to say. Maybe he should say something about Hummel's clothes, or Hummel's stupid glee club; maybe he should say something about how Hummel's always fagging up the place, about how Hummel and his boyfriend are fagging up the place and the two of them together are so gay it kind of physically hurts; maybe he should just forget all that stupid shit and tell the truth, that he doesn't know what he wants anymore, that he thought he knew, that he thought it was his father, but now he's got it and it's nothing like he thought it would be and he can't -- "What do I want?" he asks again, and it's there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to say it, but --
"Kurt! There you are!" And then the stupid fucking substitute is running over to them, with the wheelchair kid and that black chick and a bunch of other freaks trailing along behind her. "I've been looking for you. Hey, listen, I know you've probably got places to be -- God knows I don't want to hang around this school any longer than I have to, either -- but we were just talking about this really great number you guys could do for Sectionals, and I wanted to see if I could maybe get your input?"
"Sure," Hummel says, his voice a little breathy and high-pitched; he turns away from Dave without even looking back. The substitute does, though; she reaches out and puts her arm around Hummel and as she does so, she stares at Dave like she knows everything, like she knows and she's going to get him for it.
The funny thing is, yeah, it's freaky, but the idea is almost a relief after everything's been going on so long.
Not that he actually thinks anything's going to happen, though. She's just a substitute; she doesn't know anything. Anyway, nothing's going to stop him now. He’s been thinking about it all weekend, and he’s realized: this is what's supposed to happen. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.
"What do you want?" Hummel asked him.
The truth is, what he wants doesn't matter anymore.
*
He waits until Blaine's gone back into the living room (to check on his father, again) before he lets himself slump forward, burying his head in his hands.
It's funny; it's still easier to be with Blaine than it is to spend time with just about anyone else. Especially when he's so obviously distracted by his dad; honestly, Kurt half thinks he could burst into tears right now, and Blaine would just mutter something about checking on his father and then wander out of the room. But at the same time, it's harder now than it was at the start. Because it's obvious that Blaine's got his own things to think about, his own worries and fears, and Kurt doesn't want to burden him any more than he has to. He doesn't want Blaine coming back to McKinley to confront Karofsky and getting beaten up -- he never wanted that, but he especially doesn't want it now, not if Blaine's dad needs him. But he doesn't want to confront Karofsky himself, and he doesn't want anyone else confronting Karofsky, either. He just wants it to stop. He just...
He just wants it to stop.
"Kurt?"
Kurt freezes up at the sound of Blaine's voice, soft and gentle and so, so worried. Apparently, Blaine is paying attention, more than Kurt thought. And apparently Kurt isn't, because he didn't even hear Blaine coming into the room. Still, maybe he can get out of this, somehow; maybe if he --
"Sorry," he says, quickly, straightening up and letting his hands fall back down against Blaine's kitchen table. "Sorry, I'm just... It's been a long day, and I guess I just --"
"Kurt," Blaine says again, and so maybe he's not buying it, but at least Kurt tried. Blaine sits down, tugging his chair close enough to Kurt's that they're knee-to-knee. "Is it Karofsky? Did something... did he do something?”
Kurt turns away, hoping to buy himself a little time to think of a lie, and doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s just given everything away with that one gesture.
“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine’s voice is mournful; his hand lands on Kurt’s, clasping tight like an apology. “What happened? What did he do?”
"He didn't..." Kurt presses his lips together, keeps his eyes fixed on Blaine's refrigerator. There's a whiteboard with a shopping list scribbled on it, pictures of Blaine in his Dalton uniform, a flyer advertising upcoming UNOH lectures, with that apocalypse math thing highlighted. It's so weirdly normal. "He just... "
"Kurt," Blaine says, obviously pleading.
Kurt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "It was after you left," he says, and Blaine's hand tightens instinctively around his. "He didn't do anything; he just snuck up behind me and... He just startled me. That's all. I just..." And if his throat closes up, if he has to squeeze his eyes even tighter shut just to keep the tears in, it's not because he's still frightened; it's because he feels stupid that he was frightened at all, because he feels stupid that he was...
Not was. Is. He is frightened. So, so frightened, and he just wants it to stop; he'd do anything...
"Kurt," Blaine says one more time, aching now; his hand slips away from Kurt's, up to his shoulder and pulling him forward. It's an awkward sort of hug, the two of them still planted in their chairs, just leaning forward until their bodies are resting together, but it helps, somehow. When Kurt sucks in a shuddering breath, he can smell Blaine's cologne and laundry soap and shampoo, and when he lets it out again he slumps a little further into Blaine's warmth. Blaine's hands rub at Kurt's shoulders, gentle and soothing, and it's not quite what Kurt wants, maybe, but it helps anyway.
"It's okay," Blaine says, quietly. "Kurt, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
And Kurt's not totally sure how Blaine knows, but he knows he believes him, and that's enough for the moment.
*
Blaine doesn't need to look up to know that his father is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, feet poised right at the spot where the carpet ends and the tile begins, one hand braced against the wall.
He doesn't need to look up, but he does anyway, sees his father watching them, his eyes on Kurt, his mouth set into a thin line. He looks tired, a little bit, worn out from doctors and blood tests and CAT scans and needle biopsies, but there's still that something there; Blaine doesn't know what it is, not really, but he knows that it's what got them off the Island in the first place. It's what's kept them alive ever since, what's kept them safe no matter how many times they find themselves starting over with nothing but their wits to survive on. It's what makes his dad the most dangerous person Blaine's ever met.
(blaine can't help but wonder, briefly, what would happen if his dad didn't like kurt. )
(fortunately, that doesn't seem to be a problem.)
"It's okay," he says, keeping his voice low. His dad hears him anyway, of course; his gaze shifts from Kurt's bowed head to Blaine's face, their eyes locking. "Kurt, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
And Blaine's father nods, just once, but that nod is everything. He knows what Blaine is asking; he knows what needs to happen next. And he’s going to take care of it.
(there’s a scar on his forehead the exact size and shape of the corner of his old locker, back in fort wayne.)
(the school never punished anyone for giving blaine that scar, but that’s okay.)
(his dad took care of it.)
"It's going to be okay, Kurt," Blaine says again, and pulls Kurt in a little bit closer, rests his cheek against Kurt's hair and closes his eyes.
Pairing/Character(s): In this chapter -- Ben, Blaine, Kurt, Juliet, Holly Holliday, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, and Karofsky. Other glee-clubbers mentioned.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Karofsky harassing Kurt, implied threats of retaliation, possible mood whiplash
Word Count: About 7,000
Spoilers: Potential spoilers (kind of) for all six seasons of LOST, and up to Glee 2X07, "The Substitute"
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee or LOST, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this.
Summary: Everyone is suspicious, and yet no one suspects a thing.
Author's Notes: This is a Glee/LOST AU crossover. Fic is a work in progress, but I do have a substantial backlog of chapters to post while I work on the newest ones. I hope to post once a week, on Sundays, barring fire, flood, corset-related disasters, and/or LJ outages. Previous chapters and supplemental materials can be found on the masterpost.
None of this would be possible without rena_librarian, who has corrected my typos, cheered me when I was in despair, put up with all of my whining, and listened to me go on and on about how the baby they found for Ji Yeon was like the prettiest baby ever. (Seriously, though. That was one pretty baby.)
"I'm a terrible person," Kurt sighs, sinking down on Blaine's neatly made bed.
"No, you're not," Blaine says, and it could almost be too quick, like he's saying it on reflex. But then it could not be, either, and Blaine's been pretty sincere so far, and God knows it's not like Kurt can't be too suspicious sometimes, so he figures maybe he should take it on faith.
"It's just..." Kurt sighs again, taking one last look at the terrifying number of Missed Call messages on his phone before setting it face down on the bed next to him. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with Mercedes. I do. Of course I do. I just... I feel like the entire time, I'm going to just be sitting there, thinking about it, and wondering if I should tell her or if I shouldn't, because if I don't she'll know I'm hiding something but if I do then it'll be all over the school by Monday and I just can't do that. I mean, even if it didn't go horribly wrong and end in me getting killed, which it probably would, he’d probably get killed and I know I shouldn't... It's not that I feel sorry for him, because I don't, but that doesn't mean... That doesn't mean I want to hurt him."
"'Course not," Blaine murmurs, and sits down next to him, his hands folded in his lap.
"But it's all I can think about and right now I just... It's stupid, I know, but it's hard enough just being around my father, or Carole and Finn, or whatever. I just need ten minutes with someone who... With someone who knows. You know?" And Kurt looks up, expecting to see Blaine looking back at him with wide, hazel eyes, full of sincerity and promise. Instead, he gets Blaine staring at his hands, lost in thought. "Okay," he says, briskly. "What's wrong?"
That makes Blaine look up, quickly, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Kurt," he says. "Sorry. I wasn't -- it's not you, I promise. I just..."
"Blaine, if I thought it was me, I'd ask you what I'd done wrong," he says, although that's not strictly true and he knows it. Blaine doesn't, so he feels it's something he can get away with. "You've been distracted all afternoon. What's wrong? You're not... I mean, your dad's not weird about having me over, is he? He's not upset about the -- You know, about me being --"
"No!" Blaine says, and this time it is pretty quick, but Kurt decides to let him get away with it just this once. "No, Kurt, that's not -- It's not a problem, believe me. My dad, he's... he's really good about me being gay, and you being..." Blaine sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "It's not a problem. Really. Okay, Kurt?"
"Okay," Kurt says, quietly, and watches Blaine's face. He's so transparent sometimes; not all the time, but sometimes. Like every feeling is just right there, and Kurt has to wonder how he can get through the day sometimes, with everything so much on the surface.
"I just..." Blaine gives Kurt the oddest look, then, something longing and conflicted and scared, and Kurt wants to reach out but he can't quite make himself do it; he doesn't know if Blaine would pull back or lash out or what, and he's not sure he could take that right now. "It's this dream. It's... Ever since I was a little kid, I've been having the same dream -- not all the time, but, you know, enough that I remember it by now. And every time I have it, it's like... I know that something's going to happen. Something bad." He glances up at Kurt. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds crazy. I just..."
"It doesn't," Kurt says, and places one hand over both of Blaine's before he can talk himself out of it. Blaine blinks at him, then blinks down at Kurt's hand covering his, like he can't quite figure out what Kurt is doing. "It doesn't sound crazy at all."
Because Kurt knows about things like this, about the weird associations people make sometimes, and how they can take hold and make people push their memories into patterns, remembering what fits and then forgetting what doesn't. And maybe that means he doesn't believe that Blaine's dreams can predict the future, or anything, but it doesn't mean that he thinks Blaine is crazy either. He's just normal, doing what normal people do. That's all.
"Can I ask..." And he shouldn't, really, but Blaine's looking at him like he can't quite believe he's real, and it's making Kurt get ahead of himself. "What kind of bad things happen? When you have the dream?"
Blaine shudders, staring at his hands again. "Bad," he whispers, sounding frightened enough to send a shudder up Kurt's spine, even if he doesn't really believe in premonitions or anything. "I can't... It's not like I don't trust you, Kurt, because I do, I promise, I just..."
"Hey," Kurt says, trying to say it the way Blaine said it to him, kind and patient and soothing. He's pretty sure it doesn't sound as good coming from him. "Hey, no, it's okay. I mean, you just met me, so I'm not... You don't have to tell me everything. I understand."
"But you've trusted me," Blaine says, and his hands shift a little so that Kurt's is trapped between them. "You've trusted me with so much, and I don't want to -- it's not that I don't want to, I just --"
"Whenever you're ready," Kurt says, and Blaine exhales, his body slumping a little into Kurt's and making Kurt want to promise more, promise everything. "It doesn't have to be right now. When you're ready."
"I just..." And it's funny, how Blaine is getting heavier against Kurt's shoulder and Kurt feels like he should really be hating that, but he can't hate it at all. "I kind of don't want to think about it right now. You know?"
It's kind of a stupid question; of course, Kurt knows, didn't he just say -- "Then don't," he suggests, and leans back into Blaine just a little, propping him up. Actually, he really doesn't hate this at all. It's actually really pretty nice. He's been leaning on everyone else for God knows how long now, and it's just not like him; he feels better when he's got someone to support. "I won't think about things either. We can not-think together. Watch a movie or something."
Blaine's gratitude is so obvious that it almost hurts to see it. "Really?" he asks, then shakes his head. "Sorry. I mean, yeah. Of course. We'll... we'll watch a movie." He stands up without letting go of Kurt's hand, dragging him up, too, then drops Kurt's hand as soon as he realizes what he's doing. "Sorry! Sorry, I was just... I..."
"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt says, laughing a little, and smooths his clothing out before reaching out to take Blaine's hand again. Blaine squeezes his fingers tight, and gives him that look of unbearable gratitude that kind of makes Kurt want to wrap himself around Blaine and give the rest of the world the finger. "Come on. Let's go watch a movie. Unless you think your dad would mind?"
"He doesn't mind, Kurt," Blaine says again, but now he sounds a little uncertain. "I mean... he shouldn't, because he likes to work in the kitchen, but his back's been hurting him a lot lately, so he might need to be somewhere more comfortable for a while, so maybe we shouldn't... Or we could..."
And it's the weirdest thing, but Kurt suddenly feels like he knows exactly what Blaine's dream was about, and what Blaine is so frightened of now. "We could pick something he likes?" he suggests. "And then if he wants to, he can take a break and watch it with us. I wouldn't mind."
Blaine's eyes are huge; he looks at Kurt like he can't believe he's real, and it makes Kurt want to preen, just a little bit. "Really?" he asks again.
"Really," Kurt says, and tugs Blaine out towards the living room. "Come on. Let's see what your dad wants to do."
*
"I was wondering when you'd come to apologize," Ben says, barely glancing up from his book as Juliet settles down at his table in the faculty lounge.
She doesn't answer right away, just reaches out to lift the spine of the book, raising it off the table so she can see the cover. "Carrie," she says, quietly. "One of my favorites."
Ben lifts his eyes from the page, looking at her. She seems calm enough, but there's that little pinched something around the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Really?" he asks. "It's pretty depressing. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I'm reading it."
"Ben," Juliet says, but doesn't keep going. She presses her lips together, looks at the table, looks back up at Ben. "No lunch today?"
Ben just shrugs and turns the page. "I'm fasting."
"For religious reasons?" she asks, and Ben can't quite resist giving her a look at that. The only relief is that she doesn't seem particularly pleased with herself over finally eking out a reaction from him. "Tests today?"
"You knew that already," Ben reminds her, stopping just shy of pointing out the fact that she's obviously chosen today to talk to him again for that reason and that reason only. Because honestly, he could stand to talk to someone with a bit of knowledge about these things, and she knows that. He could use some comfort, or at least some information, something to ease his mind. He's vulnerable. And Juliet knows and she's attempting to take advantage of it.
She could be slightly less obvious about it, at least.
"Are you nervous?" she asks, leaning in a little bit.
Ben scoffs. "Nervous? About the large, quite possibly cancerous mass surrounding the base of my spine?" He keeps his eyes on the page, even though he hasn't actually managed to read any of the words on it. "Of course not, Juliet. Don't be silly. I'm perfectly calm about my tumor."
"Ben," Juliet says again, a little more desperately, and covers the book with her hand.
"Ben Anderson," someone else says, cheerfully, and Ben looks up, blinking. There's a woman standing at the edge of the table; a blonde, with a short skirt and long legs. She's attractive enough, Ben thinks. She's also a total stranger to him. "Am I right? You're Ben Anderson. Blaine's dad." The woman holds out her hand, and Ben stands to take it. "Signora Holliday. I subbed for Blaine's Italian class for a few weeks. Nice kid. Really good accent."
"Oh," Ben says, still a little perplexed. "Yes. Well. I'm sorry I don't quite recall meeting you, but..."
"Oh, we never really met met," Miss Holliday says, sliding into Ben's empty seat, and Ben has to pull a chair from a nearby table just to be able to sit down, squeezed awkwardly between Juliet and Miss Holliday. "But I saw you when you came to pick him up sometimes. And I figured you weren't dressed well enough to be a butler or a chauffeur, so that pretty much meant you had to be his dad. Or, you know, a pedophile. One of the two."
For the first time in a long time, Ben actually feels his jaw drop. Just a little, but still.
"Not that I really thought you were --" Miss Holliday laughs. "Sorry. I don't know why I always say things like that. Fortunately it doesn't happen in the classroom. I mean, not that often. There was this one time -- I was subbing for a history class and we were talking about J. Edgar Hoover and I kind of got carried away, you know, and ... Long story short, that was the last time I was invited to teach a class at Defiance Christian Academy. But apart from that and the... you know, the incident over in Fostoria, I'm usually pretty good. In the classroom."
She beams at Ben.
He turns to Juliet for assistance, only to find her pushing her chair back and standing up. "Well," she says, clearing her throat. "On that note. I've still got that monkey flu outbreak to deal with, so. Nice to meet you, Signora Holliday." She takes a few steps away from the table, then turns and looks back at Ben for just a moment. "Good luck today, Ben," she says, quietly.
It sobers him up instantly, reminds him that he's got far worse things to deal with today than a slightly unusual substitute teacher. "Thank you," he replies, and watches her walk away.
As soon as she's gone, Miss Holliday is leaning over the table, pushing into Ben's space, her eyes wide. "Monkey flu?"
"Our new principal is... somewhat prone to exaggeration," Ben says, as gently as he can. There's no possible way for him to explain to this woman what Principal Sue is like; she'd never believe him. She'll have to see for herself. "It's an ordinary flu virus, the same thing we deal with every year. Nothing too terrible."
"That's a shame." Ben blinks at her, and she backtracks again. "Sorry, sorry. I mean, it's not like I get excited by infectious diseases or anything, although they are kind of crucial to my ability to actually get a job, so. But it would be kind of exciting, wouldn't it? Like Outbreak or something."
She seems genuinely enthused by the idea, and Ben can't quite keep himself from frowning. "Perhaps," he says, as politely as possible. "Anyway, I have some... some grading to do." He stands, not bothering to grab his book; it really was depressing, anyway. He'll find another way to occupy himself for the remainder of his lunch period. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Holliday. I'll... I'll see you around, I'm sure."
She winks at him. "You bet you will," she says, grinning. "And call me Holly."
"Holly," Ben says, managing to smile back at her.
"You know," she says, as he turns to leave. "I've always kind of had this thing for single dads. Which is weird, because I hate stability. So I don't even know what that's about. But there's just something about a guy who cares that much about someone else. I don't know. It just... It does it for me."
Two tables away, the football coach lets out a choking noise that might be laughter, shock, or both.
Ben turns back and nods at Miss Holliday; it's a little stiff, perhaps, but at least it's a gesture. "Have a good day, Miss Holliday," he says, as politely as possible.
Then he basely flees the room.
*
"Okay," Kurt says, reaching across the table to snag a chip from Mercedes' nachos, one with just the barest amount of cheese on it. It's always been a little weird eating with Kurt, but ever since his dad had that heart attack, it's been super weird. It's like he's convinced himself that if he eats anything bad, it's like his dad is eating it too. So just seeing him in Taco Bell is kind of really strange at this point, let alone watching him actually eat something. "So was this the best idea ever, or was this the best idea ever?"
"Miss Holliday's pretty cool," Mercedes admits, watching their substitute lean over the table she's sharing with Santana and Quinn, whispering to them and making them burst into giggles. "But what about Mr. Schue? I mean, we do want him back. Don't we?"
"Oh, of course we do," Kurt says, brushing nacho crumbs off on a napkin and reaching out to take a sip of his diet Pepsi. He hasn't had pop for a while, either. It's been water, mostly. Water or tea. She's been trying to get him to go out for Orange Julius with her for weeks, but he won't. "I just... I mean, he'll probably be gone for at least a week, Mercedes, and what would you rather do? Spend every day wondering if this is the day that Satan finally manages to break free and claw Rachel's eyes out? Or would you rather have fun?" He snags another chip, this one with a little more cheese. "Seriously, Mercedes, it's not like this year's been great so far. We could use some kind of... a vacation. Don't you think? Just to let our hair down. Just for a little while."
The thing is, Mercedes knows exactly who needs the vacation right now. She knows who's been having the worst year out of all of them, who's under the most pressure right now, who's most in need of a break. And he's sitting right in front of her, sneaking her chips. “Yeah," she says. "Yeah, you're right."
Kurt leans back in his chair, smiling. He has been smiling a lot more lately, at least. Ever since last week, when he went to Dalton. When he met Blaine. "Of course I'm right," he says, easily. "I'm always right." He grabs one last chip and pops it into his mouth with a self-satisfied expression, and for just a second, Mercedes thinks she gets it. This is Kurt's vacation; this is the break he needs in order to come back to them and be himself again. And she's okay with that. She really is.
Then Kurt's phone buzzes, and his face lights up when he pulls it out to check his texts, and maybe Mercedes isn't as quite as okay with this as she'd like to be. But she's gonna try. "So," she says, and plasters a smile on her face. "Big plans with Blaine?"
Kurt frowns down at his phone a little bit, eyebrows drawing together. "Oh, just trying to figure out when to meet, really. His dad's got a doctor's appointment today; he's not sure when it gets over, and then Blaine's still got to take him home, so..." He starts punching out his message, immediately lost in it, like Mercedes isn't there at all.
But the thing is, she’s not jealous. Yeah, she’s upset right now, a little, but it’s not because she’s jealous. It just... It seems a little weird, Blaine taking his dad home instead of Blaine's dad taking him home. Kind of suspicious. But then, maybe it's a single-parent kind of thing, like with Kurt going to all his dad's appointments.
Except, even Kurt didn't do that, really. Not before the heart attack, anyway. After it, of course he did. But never before. "Is he sick?" she asks, leaning in a little bit. "Blaine's dad; is there something wrong with him?"
"I don't know." Kurt's voice is absent, a little, thoughtful. He types out one last thing, then sets his phone down. "Blaine hasn't really said anything about it. But I kind of get this feeling that maybe he might be, you know? Or that Blaine thinks he is. He seems..." Kurt shakes his head. "I don't know. I'm sure Blaine will say something, sooner or later."
"Maybe," Mercedes says, but she can't help but feel a little doubtful. Not jealous, not at all. Just doubtful. "I don't know, though. Wouldn't he tell you? You told us about your dad."
Kurt just shakes his head. "I told you about my dad," he says, giving her a funny, sad little smile. "I didn't exactly go around telling everyone else. The way Finn talks about it, it's like he and I never spoke about it at all, which is ridiculous, but whatever." He sighs and sips his pop. "And... I mean, yes, Blaine and I have connected on a certain level, but still. He's only known me for a week. If something serious is going on... I don't know if I'd talk to me either."
"I would," Mercedes says, partially because it's true and partially because she knows it'll make Kurt's smile broaden and his eyes brighten. And even if it's not the same way that a text from Blaine makes him light up... Well, it's still something. "And if something's wrong and he doesn't talk to you about it, then he's a dummy."
"Hmmm." But Kurt's smile is exactly the way Mercedes wants it to be, full and real and just for her.
It's not enough, though, so she pushes it a little further. "And if he keeps acting strange, you bring him to me and I'll tell him what's what."
That makes Kurt laugh a little, and this time, when he reaches across the table, he leaves his hand over hers, palm down, waiting patiently until her hand turns palm up, and they can flutter their fingers together before sweeping back imaginary bangs. Once again, Mercedes thinks that she can be happy for Kurt. If this guy is legit, if he's good to her boy, she can be happy for him.
As long as it means she gets her Kurt back, in the end.
*
"I just can't figure this out. I mean, why would Kurt do this to me? To us? He knows how close we are to Sectionals, and how important it is that we --"
"Rachel," Finn says, and it kind of comes out more like a sigh, which makes her give him a dirty look. Which he doesn't like, like at all, but on the other hand, he's kind of starting to feel like maybe she's overreacting a little bit. On the other other hand, they're sitting in his truck right now, which means that if she gets mad at him it's going to be really hard for him to get away. But on the other other other hand, it is kind of weird that he's this scared of making Rachel mad, and while he knows better than to take relationship advice (or any kind of advice) from Puckerman, he's starting to think that all those comments about him being "whipped" might be kind of a little maybe true. "Look, maybe this is a good thing. I mean, we kind of have to have a teacher, right? It's like, the rules or something. If we didn't, Principal Sue would probably ban glee club forever. I mean, yeah, Miss Holliday's not the most serious teacher ever --"
"She took us to Taco Bell, Finn!"
"But she did have us sing first," Finn says, trying to sound reasonable. He should have practiced with Kurt, first. Kurt's good at sounding reasonable, except for when he isn't. "And she probably won't do that every day." Which is kind of a bummer, really, because Finn could totally get used to scarfing down a few burritos before football practice. He thinks it's probably a good thing, like people who eat pasta before they run (although the one time he tried that, he totally barfed everywhere, but he figures that was just because he hadn't let his body get used to the idea). "Look, at least she's not actively trying to destroy us, right? Or actively trying to... you know. Like... Mr. Ryerson, or whatever."
He wonders if maybe he should point out that Puck said that Mike said that Artie said he saw Mr. Ryerson being dragged out of the building by Coach Beiste today. Artie's a reliable source. Maybe Rachel would feel better if she knew how much worse it could have been. "Actually," he says, trying to work his way around to it, but Rachel lifts her shoulder a little bit and turns away from him, staring out the window like she's pissed, and it kind of makes him forget how to talk.
Sometimes he wonders why he always winds up liking girls that scare him a lot.
"Maybe," Rachel says, a little bitterly. "Although I have to say that if those are our only other options, that says something awful about the state of McKinley in general, and I for one find it quite depressing."
"Totally," Finn says, because okay, he can get on board with that. "Look, Rachel, I know you're worried. And I am too, don't get me wrong, but --"
And for just a second, he realizes that he could make a totally awesome speech right now about how sometimes they're best when they're loose, like last year at Sectionals when they had to learn their songs like half an hour before the performance and Mr. Schue wasn't there for that either but he and Rachel figured it all out and they won and so it all worked out, but then Rachel grabs his arm and she's like super-strong and it actually kind of hurts a little, and he forgets what he was going to say.
"Finn!" Rachel hisses, stabbing at the window with her finger. "Finn! We're being infiltrated."
He blinks at her, then at the window, trying to remember what infiltrated means. He's pretty sure it has something to do with cars, maybe, but then he's also pretty sure that his car windows don't have filters, so --
"That boy," Rachel says, leaning so close to the window that her nose presses against the glass, dragging Finn along with her until he almost falls into her lap and has to catch himself with one arm against the back of her seat. "That boy is wearing a Dalton Academy uniform. He's a spy, Finn. A spy."
Oh. That's what infiltrated means. Now he remembers.
"We sent Kurt to spy on them," he reasons. "They probably just figured they should spy back." But he stays where he is, leaning over Rachel and peering out the window, trying to figure out who he's supposed to be looking at. There's a lot of people in the parking lot -- all the glee kids getting back from Taco Bell, everyone else on their way out to go home (or maybe go to Taco Bell themselves -- he'd totally head off for Taco Bell after classes if he hadn't already been), and it takes him a while to figure out which person is the spy. Finally, he spots a kid in a blazer and tie, which wouldn't be that unusual if it were Kurt, but he's pretty sure this guy's too short to be Kurt. Also, he's talking to someone who Finn is pretty sure is one of the math teachers, and Kurt hates math, so.
Except then he sees Kurt hurrying across the parking lot to join them, so maybe Kurt likes math more than he thought.
Although at least now he knows that Kurt didn't change into a blazer sometime between going to Taco Bell and heading back to the school, and also that Kurt is, in fact, as tall as he thought he was. Which is reassuring.
Rachel's hand tightens on his arm. "Oh my God," she whispers. "He's been turned."
"Rachel," Finn says, and tries not to roll his eyes. "Just because Kurt's talking to a math teacher doesn't mean that he's --"
"What math teacher?" Rachel asks, then shakes her head and cuts Finn off before he can answer. "Never mind. Honestly, I don't know what you were thinking, sending Kurt to an all-boys school to spy. It's like throwing a lamb into a lions' den. He never had a chance." She sniffles dramatically. (And it blows Finn's mind sometimes, how she can sniffle dramatically. He just sounds gross when he does it.) "Poor Kurt. It'll break his heart when he realizes that prep-school Lothario is just using him to get to our set list."
Finn frowns out the window. It's hard to tell from here, but he kind of feels like the short kid in the Dalton uniform isn't particularly interested in using Kurt. Mostly, he seems interested in the math teacher guy next to him. "I don't know, Rachel," he says, slowly. "I mean, if he's here to use Kurt, why was Kurt the one to talk to him? And how come he's been hanging out with one of our teachers? Look, see? They're getting in a car together." Because they are -- the blazer kid opens the door for the math teacher, then watches him climb in, then closes the door. Then, and only then, does he turn back to Kurt. They talk a little -- not touching or anything, just talking, and then the blazer kid climbs in the driver's side. Kurt gives him a little wave, then folds his arms, watching as the car pulls away.
Rachel presses her lips together, staring intently out the window. "This must be part of their master plan," she whispers. "But what is it?" She straightens up, pushing back on Finn's shoulders until he stops leaning across her lap. Which is a shame, because it was kind of a good position to be in, even if it was, like, spy drama and stuff, and not really sexy. "Right," she says. "Okay. It's fine. We can counter this. But we need more information. You need to talk to Kurt. Find out who's been seducing him. Be discreet."
"Seducing him?" Finn repeats, a little bewildered, and also a little... Because, okay, it's not like he thinks it's gross in general or anything, but Kurt's like almost practically his brother at this point, and the point of being brothers with someone is that you don't think about them doing sex stuff. It's, like, in the rules. "Rachel, I really don't think --"
"And I'll work on figuring out who his accomplice is," Rachel says, rummaging through her purse. "You said you thought he was a math teacher, right?"
She pulls out a pen and a pad of paper, like a detective. It's kind of sexy, in a weird way.
"Yeah," Finn says. "Yeah, I think Artie has class with him, or something. They were talking in the hall the other day. Hey, Rachel, you don't really think that guy... I mean, you don't think he'd actually, like... seduce Kurt, or..."
"It's okay," Rachel says, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. "We'll stop him before he breaks Kurt's heart. I promise you, Finn. No more Jesse St. James scenarios."
"Okay," Finn says. Because yeah, the kid doesn't seem like he's trying to break Kurt's heart, not like Jesse really obviously seemed like he was trying to break Rachel's. But if he is, then Finn needs to stop him, because that's also part of the point of being someone's brother. You don't let their hearts get broken. It's in the rules. "Okay, cool."
Rachel beams at him, and kisses him again, and Finn decides he's totally down for this whole saving Kurt thing. It's going to be great.
*
Hummel's still watching the parking lot, staring at where the Andersons' car used to be; it's easy for Dave to come up right behind him, lean in, and whisper, "Boyfriend's not here to save you now, Hummel," and watch Kurt jump, turning a little bit as he does so, the shift in his weight making him stumble and almost fall into a parked car next to him.
It's pointless, of course. If the goal is to get Anderson's attention, there's no reason for him to go after Hummel right now, with no one there to see them.
It's just that there's something really satisfying in watching the last of the color drain from Hummel's face.
He straightens up, like he always does, grabbing the strap of his bag with one hand. "What do you want, Karofsky?" he snaps, but he's backing away the entire time, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure he doesn't run into anything.
Dave stays with him, still leaning in. For just a couple of seconds, it's like the parking lot isn't there at all, like there's no other people around. It's just him, and Hummel, the way it should've been from the start. "What do I want?" he repeats, and realizes he doesn't know what to say. Maybe he should say something about Hummel's clothes, or Hummel's stupid glee club; maybe he should say something about how Hummel's always fagging up the place, about how Hummel and his boyfriend are fagging up the place and the two of them together are so gay it kind of physically hurts; maybe he should just forget all that stupid shit and tell the truth, that he doesn't know what he wants anymore, that he thought he knew, that he thought it was his father, but now he's got it and it's nothing like he thought it would be and he can't -- "What do I want?" he asks again, and it's there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to say it, but --
"Kurt! There you are!" And then the stupid fucking substitute is running over to them, with the wheelchair kid and that black chick and a bunch of other freaks trailing along behind her. "I've been looking for you. Hey, listen, I know you've probably got places to be -- God knows I don't want to hang around this school any longer than I have to, either -- but we were just talking about this really great number you guys could do for Sectionals, and I wanted to see if I could maybe get your input?"
"Sure," Hummel says, his voice a little breathy and high-pitched; he turns away from Dave without even looking back. The substitute does, though; she reaches out and puts her arm around Hummel and as she does so, she stares at Dave like she knows everything, like she knows and she's going to get him for it.
The funny thing is, yeah, it's freaky, but the idea is almost a relief after everything's been going on so long.
Not that he actually thinks anything's going to happen, though. She's just a substitute; she doesn't know anything. Anyway, nothing's going to stop him now. He’s been thinking about it all weekend, and he’s realized: this is what's supposed to happen. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.
"What do you want?" Hummel asked him.
The truth is, what he wants doesn't matter anymore.
*
He waits until Blaine's gone back into the living room (to check on his father, again) before he lets himself slump forward, burying his head in his hands.
It's funny; it's still easier to be with Blaine than it is to spend time with just about anyone else. Especially when he's so obviously distracted by his dad; honestly, Kurt half thinks he could burst into tears right now, and Blaine would just mutter something about checking on his father and then wander out of the room. But at the same time, it's harder now than it was at the start. Because it's obvious that Blaine's got his own things to think about, his own worries and fears, and Kurt doesn't want to burden him any more than he has to. He doesn't want Blaine coming back to McKinley to confront Karofsky and getting beaten up -- he never wanted that, but he especially doesn't want it now, not if Blaine's dad needs him. But he doesn't want to confront Karofsky himself, and he doesn't want anyone else confronting Karofsky, either. He just wants it to stop. He just...
He just wants it to stop.
"Kurt?"
Kurt freezes up at the sound of Blaine's voice, soft and gentle and so, so worried. Apparently, Blaine is paying attention, more than Kurt thought. And apparently Kurt isn't, because he didn't even hear Blaine coming into the room. Still, maybe he can get out of this, somehow; maybe if he --
"Sorry," he says, quickly, straightening up and letting his hands fall back down against Blaine's kitchen table. "Sorry, I'm just... It's been a long day, and I guess I just --"
"Kurt," Blaine says again, and so maybe he's not buying it, but at least Kurt tried. Blaine sits down, tugging his chair close enough to Kurt's that they're knee-to-knee. "Is it Karofsky? Did something... did he do something?”
Kurt turns away, hoping to buy himself a little time to think of a lie, and doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s just given everything away with that one gesture.
“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine’s voice is mournful; his hand lands on Kurt’s, clasping tight like an apology. “What happened? What did he do?”
"He didn't..." Kurt presses his lips together, keeps his eyes fixed on Blaine's refrigerator. There's a whiteboard with a shopping list scribbled on it, pictures of Blaine in his Dalton uniform, a flyer advertising upcoming UNOH lectures, with that apocalypse math thing highlighted. It's so weirdly normal. "He just... "
"Kurt," Blaine says, obviously pleading.
Kurt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "It was after you left," he says, and Blaine's hand tightens instinctively around his. "He didn't do anything; he just snuck up behind me and... He just startled me. That's all. I just..." And if his throat closes up, if he has to squeeze his eyes even tighter shut just to keep the tears in, it's not because he's still frightened; it's because he feels stupid that he was frightened at all, because he feels stupid that he was...
Not was. Is. He is frightened. So, so frightened, and he just wants it to stop; he'd do anything...
"Kurt," Blaine says one more time, aching now; his hand slips away from Kurt's, up to his shoulder and pulling him forward. It's an awkward sort of hug, the two of them still planted in their chairs, just leaning forward until their bodies are resting together, but it helps, somehow. When Kurt sucks in a shuddering breath, he can smell Blaine's cologne and laundry soap and shampoo, and when he lets it out again he slumps a little further into Blaine's warmth. Blaine's hands rub at Kurt's shoulders, gentle and soothing, and it's not quite what Kurt wants, maybe, but it helps anyway.
"It's okay," Blaine says, quietly. "Kurt, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
And Kurt's not totally sure how Blaine knows, but he knows he believes him, and that's enough for the moment.
*
Blaine doesn't need to look up to know that his father is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, feet poised right at the spot where the carpet ends and the tile begins, one hand braced against the wall.
He doesn't need to look up, but he does anyway, sees his father watching them, his eyes on Kurt, his mouth set into a thin line. He looks tired, a little bit, worn out from doctors and blood tests and CAT scans and needle biopsies, but there's still that something there; Blaine doesn't know what it is, not really, but he knows that it's what got them off the Island in the first place. It's what's kept them alive ever since, what's kept them safe no matter how many times they find themselves starting over with nothing but their wits to survive on. It's what makes his dad the most dangerous person Blaine's ever met.
(blaine can't help but wonder, briefly, what would happen if his dad didn't like kurt. )
(fortunately, that doesn't seem to be a problem.)
"It's okay," he says, keeping his voice low. His dad hears him anyway, of course; his gaze shifts from Kurt's bowed head to Blaine's face, their eyes locking. "Kurt, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
And Blaine's father nods, just once, but that nod is everything. He knows what Blaine is asking; he knows what needs to happen next. And he’s going to take care of it.
(there’s a scar on his forehead the exact size and shape of the corner of his old locker, back in fort wayne.)
(the school never punished anyone for giving blaine that scar, but that’s okay.)
(his dad took care of it.)
"It's going to be okay, Kurt," Blaine says again, and pulls Kurt in a little bit closer, rests his cheek against Kurt's hair and closes his eyes.