FIC: "At the End of Each Day" (4b/?)
Chapter too long LJ.
First part is HERE.
6.
"You know, Hummel, I think you called the wrong number. Why the hell do you think I'd be interested in your Sergeant Pepper's Preppy Sparrows' Pity Party?"
"It's the Warblers' Lonely Hearts Club dinner, Santana. And I thought you might not want to be the only one from the New Directions not to come."
"Then you thought wrong, 'cause I certainly don't mind being the only one with something better to do on Valentine's Day than watching a bunch of Lady Larks swaying their fannies and chirruping about never-ending love."
"I am so disappointed in you. For someone who claims to have impeccable gaydar... Really, Azimio's might be more reliable than yours." Kurt snorted, and added in a lower tone, "And that's saying something."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Kurt shook his head and refocused on the present conversation. "It means what it means. Your gay jokes only serve to make you look ignorant. Of course, I'm talking to someone who thinks misconjugating verbs makes her sound tough, so why am I surprised?"
"And when have I ever cared about your opinion? Oh, that's right... Never!"
"Good for you. Because I also don't think much of your weak attempt at pretending your current social life is any more exciting than watching the hands move around a clock all day long. You forget I still have several trustworthy informants at McKinley High."
The sound that came from the other end of the line sounded positively like a growl. "Fine! So maybe I'm not playing my A-game right now. And yet, still I'd rather die than go to your stupid glee mixer. What does that tell you?"
Kurt saw his own brow frown in his vanity mirror and then clear up as a wicked smile twisted his lips. "Oh. I'm sorry, Santana. I hadn't realized it. You have an extremely good reason not to come."
"I have a thousand reasons. Which one are you talking about?"
"Puck, of course. He's coming with someone else. Not just someone else, but Lauren Zizes. That must be soooooo embarrassing to you."
"Wait, what?!"
"I totally get it. You need to protect your heart from the pain of seeing them together."
"Hummel, are you stoned? The most I get from seeing Puck with the white hippopotamus is heartburn."
"Of course, Puck will probably realize that he was the reason why you're the only one who didn't go. That you care for him so much that you'd rather spend Valentine's Day at home, all alone, crying in your bed, than face the fact that he likes someone else."
"That is a colossal load of bullshit!"
"And anyway, I suppose your heart is not the only thing you should protect. I mean, I heard how Zizes scrubbed the floor of the school with your hair yesterday."
"WHAT?! I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent, you hear me? I grew up sharpening my teeth on the bones of girls like Zizes. Whatever you heard is a lie from people who piss themselves whenever I walk into a room. I put Zizes in. Her. Place. Have fun picking out her bones in tomorrow's meatloaf surprise."
"I see. Anyway, you're absolutely right. There's no way Puck will think you're heartbroken because of him. I mean, it's not like he's a conceited prick who thinks everyone wants to get in his shorts. Deep down, he's a very humble, unpretentious guy. And Zizes, she'll know better than to think you're afraid of her. Right?"
There was a very, very long pause. Kurt merely waited.
"Hummel?" Santana hissed.
"Yes?"
"You're a despicable manipulative bitch. I'm almost proud of you."
"Why, Santana, I think that might have been the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!" Kurt picked up a pen a ticked off Santana's name from the list in front of him. "Tomorrow, Breadstix, 8:00 sharp. See you there."
"Some of those Warblers had better be straight to make it worth my time."
"Most of them are," Kurt assured her. "Most of them have girlfriends too, though."
"Entirely irrelevant. By the way, Kurt... How's Finn?"
"Finn? He's not home yet, so you must have seen him the latest. Why?"
"Oh, just curious."
"If you're thinking of asking Finn to be your last resource date for Valentine's..."
"Oh, please! If I were interested in lame reruns, I'd stay home and watch Little House on the Prairie. Just thought he looked a little green earlier. You know, serial kissing is not for the untrained rookie, there's technique to it."
"Trust you to make kissing sound like a sport."
"Don't knock it 'til you try it, Cherry Lips." Next, Kurt heard the noise of Santana hanging up.
He put down his cell with a sigh. "I have tried it," he muttered. "So far, it has failed to live up to the hype."
"Who were you talking to?"
Kurt turned on his seat and found Finn standing at his door, bringing their two mugs of milk. "That must have been a very long and entertaining pyrotechnical spectacle if you only got home now."
"What?"
"Fireworks, Finn?"
"Oh. Yeah, lots of fireworks," said Finn with a lopsided smile. "I even lost track of time."
"Well, you didn't miss dinner, so it can't have been that exciting."
Finn set one of the mugs on the vanity, and sat down on Kurt's bed. "So who were you talking to? I heard my name."
"Santana. She asked about you."
"Really?" Finn's smile turned into a smirk. "I think she might have a thing for me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Think about it. Why else would she ask about me?"
"I don't know, and if I were you, I'd be afraid to find out."
"That's because you don't know what happened between us today." Finn eyed Kurt suspiciously. "Do you?"
"Uh... Hmm. It's possible that my informants might have failed me this time. I should have a serious conversation with them. So what happened?"
"She kissed me."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right. And this actually might be significant, if you hadn't set up a kissing booth at school."
"Yeah, but it wasn't a kissing booth kiss."
"Oh. You were not at the booth when it happened?"
"Well, no, I was. But she didn't wait in line."
"She never does."
"And she was wearing a sexy candy striper costume."
"Bizarre, but still..."
"And she didn't pay me!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly.
"Not necessarily a compliment."
"She said she couldn't help herself."
"Not necessarily personal."
"Why are you being so negative?" Finn grimaced. "Is it because she used to be with Puck? Because no girl who's been with him could possibly be interested in me?"
"No, it's because it's Santana. That girl doesn't breathe without an ulterior motive. You'd better watch your back."
"I can handle Santana."
Kurt gazed at Finn with fond exasperation, but said nothing, choosing to drink his milk instead.
"Did she call you to ask what I'll be doing on Valentine's?"
"No, I called her to tell her what she'll be doing on Valentine's," Kurt retorted. "The Warblers will be putting on a little show at Breadstix. They were pretty excited about the positive response we got from the shoppers at the Gap, and Blaine and I managed to convince the council that we have a lot to gain from offering more informal performances like that. We'll be singing songs that were voted out from the setlist for Sectionals, so we don't need much preparation. I already invited... or blackmailed... almost everyone from the New Directions. Except for you and Quinn, of course, I knew you'd be too busy to answer your phones. All of the others have confirmed their presence."
Finn frowned suspiciously. "Kurt, what are you planning?"
Kurt blinked. "Haven't I just explained it all at length?"
"Yeah, and it sounds like you found a sneaky way to spend Valentine's with Blaine. Only with two glee clubs worth of chaperones."
"It's not like that. Blaine and I talked. We cleared the whole thing up."
Finn snorted. "No, you didn't."
"Yes, we did."
"Does he know you like him?" Finn asked with a challenging tone.
"Yes."
Finn's eyes widened in shock. "You told him you like him?"
"I told him I thought he was going to ask me out."
"And...?"
"And he let me know the thought has never crossed his mind."
"Ouch."
"I know. Not exactly good news. But our friendship is too important for the both of us, and we agreed not to let it be ruined by mixed signals and foolish romantic fantasies."
"Yeah, but... won't it be weird now?"
"It doesn't have to be. I think it's better this way, with all in the open. Now he knows that I was interested, and I know he never was. We move on from that."
"Can you?"
Kurt shrugged. "If I can be your brother, then I can be his friend. It shouldn't be half as complicated. In a way, I'm relieved."
"Relieved? Why?"
"I didn't want my relationship with Blaine to be like my relationship with you last year," said Kurt frankly.
Finn looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "What?"
"I didn't know... if you knew... that I..." Kurt took a deep breath, braced himself and went on. "You wouldn't say anything. I suppose you were pretending you didn't notice how I felt... but at the time I thought you legitimately didn't understand it. Only when you yelled at me, that day when I redecorated the basement... then I knew you knew. Then I knew you had known all along."
"I... I thought that if I didn't say anything..."
"That it would all go away? That I would go away?"
"I didn't want you to go away," Finn countered. "If I did, I'd have pushed you away right from the start, without a second thought. But you've always been super smart, so I was hoping I wouldn't have to. That you'd give up eventually, and go for someone like you. Who could like you back in that way. I didn't want to say the words that would hurt your feelings, okay?"
"Why, thank you. Because it's really much more agreeable to be addressed by a homophobic slur than to be let down gently."
Finn gazed at his brother sadly. "Do we really need to keep doing this? I screwed up that day. You were getting crazy intense, and you know that, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. And okay, maybe things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand if I had manned up and told you to stop as soon as I noticed your flirting. But I can't say I'm sorry. I just can't."
"You're not sorry," Kurt echoed acidly.
"No. And you shouldn't be either. We both screwed up, and because of that, our parents are together. And they're, like, chick-movie-ending happy. And you and I, we have... this." Finn clinked their mugs together in a toast.
Kurt stared at their mugs, his face touched by a mix of surprise, affection and sadness. He remained a good couple of minutes completely still and silent, seemingly lost in thoughts. Finn tried not to fidget as he waited for his brother to show some kind of reaction.
"So, basically, 'All's well that ends well'?" Kurt murmured eventually.
"Something like that."
Kurt bit down his lower lip. "I didn't think I was still angry about this. I told you, forgiving isn't my forte."
"Are you really angry? I'm not sure you sounded angry."
"Bitter? Resentful? Whiny?"
"How about scared?"
Kurt raised his eyes to face Finn, startled.
"It's like... my left arm. I broke it jumping from a swing when I was ten. Right here." Finn changed his mug from one hand to the other, and traced a line with his finger, crossing his forearm roughly in the middle of the bone. "It's fixed now, it doesn't bother me at all. I remember that at the time I thought maybe it'd hurt when it's about to rain, like my old neighbor Mr. Koontz's hips, but no. Most of the time I don't even remember it happened. But sometimes, you know, walking past a playground, or watching Mom debone a chicken, or for whatever reason, it kinda comes back, you know? Not exactly the pain but the fear of pain?"
Kurt frowned in concentration. "So, if I’m translating your analogy correctly, the swing is you, your fractured arm is my broken heart, and Blaine is the chicken."
Finn blinked. "Uh. Yes?"
"And I'm lashing out at you because I'm petrified that I'm going to make the same mistakes I've made before, or that Blaine will do things that will dramatically sour our friendship, as it happened to us last year."
Finn gave him a big smile. "See? You totally get me."
Kurt returned the smile more timidly. "I try. There are still things about you I find rather incomprehensible, though."
"Like what?"
"Never mind."
"No, what?"
Kurt shrugged and sipped his milk.
"Come on, Kurt. What?"
"Finn... you do realize that those fireworks with Quinn might end up causing major burns for a lot of people, don't you?"
Finn's smile vanished instantly. "You mean Sam."
"For starters. I was on the phone with him about half an hour ago, and he seemed convinced that he'll be taking Quinn as his date to Breadstix tomorrow."
"He probably will," Finn grumbled. "She hasn't decided to break up with him. Yet."
"What makes you think she will?"
"She's cheating on him with me. If she loved him, she wouldn't risk hurting him."
"She's cheated on you too," Kurt pointed out.
"Before. Things are different between us now. I can feel it."
"And just how do you feel walking a mile in Puck's boots?"
"Wait, what?"
"I know you've wondered what kind of person seduces a friend's girlfriend. Now you know the answer."
Finn looked grim. "It's different. Puck's been my friend since forever. I've known Sam for, like, five months."
"And hasn't he been your friend for those five months?"
"Not the same."
"Has he done anything to deserve being hurt by you?"
Finn started saying something, but shut his mouth and looked away.
Kurt's eyes widened. "Oh my... I'm so stupid! Of course he did something. He questioned your leadership!"
"That has nothing to do with it!" Finn protested.
"Really? And you're sure those fireworks weren't actually celebrating you getting one up on the guy who's been challenging you both on glee and on the football team?"
"Quinn was my girlfriend first, remember? Sam didn't even exist back then. So don't you dare say that what I have with her isn't real."
Finn was about to stand up when Kurt grasped his wrist, squeezing it just for a moment before letting go. "Finn, I just want you to realize that this could turn into a really messy fight inside the glee club, so I hope you're sure that what you're fighting for is really worth the consequences. Okay? I don't want you to get hurt. Especially because, apparently, being the older brother implies beating up the people who hurts my younger brother, and while I'm perfectly comfortable slaughtering whoever I have to with my razor-sharp words, I don't really enjoy the thought of inflicting physical violence."
Finn's lips quirked in a lopsided smile, and nodded.
"But, let me warn you, Finn Hudson. When you see Sam and Quinn together at Breadstix tomorrow night, you are not to cause any scenes. Make no mistake, I am not so opposed to violence that I won't kick your ass into next season if you do something to mess up my Lonely Hearts Club dinner."
Finn merely rolled his eyes and sipped his milk.
7.
"It was for charity, Mom!"
"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?"
"I'm serious. The money goes to pay for the glee club's trip to Nationals."
Carole silenced her son by sticking a thermometer in his mouth. "First, I wouldn't call it charity if you're going to benefit from it yourself. Fund-raising, yes. Charity, not so much. Second, I'm sure there are other ways to raise funds that are far more effective, not to mention safer, than a kissing booth."
Finn garbled something unintelligible.
"Quiet. And third, just give me a break. You are a sweet, generous boy, but you did not come up with that scheme out of the goodness of your heart. And I'm surprised any of the teachers in that school could fall for that sorry excuse."
Finn pressed his head against the pillow, closing his eyes tightly.
"Honey, remember when you told me the thing you wanted the most in the world was a giant pool full of Skittles?"
"I wash zhust a 'ittle kidz..." said Finn around the thermometer.
"Hush... Remember what I told you then? About how that much candy would give you a tummy ache for sure?" Carole pushed her fingers through Finn's hair in a gentle caress. "And how after a while you'd get so fed up with Skittles, you wouldn't even want to see one ever again?"
Finn blushed a little and nodded.
"Anything you love won't be as enjoyable anymore if you don't treat it as something special. Kisses are to be treasured! If you kiss someone and you don't feel the butterflies in your stomach, and your heart doesn't try to jump out of your chest, and your head doesn't start spinning and your feet don't lift off the floor... oh, sweetie, then you're just not doing it right."
"Vireworgz?"
Carole smiled. "Yes. There needs to be fireworks. Lots and lots of them." She pulled out the thermometer from his mouth and checked it. "101°F. Well, it's come down a little bit. Still a long way to go, though. When I had mono, I couldn't drag myself out of bed for about three weeks. Let's hope you're luckier."
"You had mono?" Finn croaked. "But... you're a mom!"
Caroled giggled. "Moms aren't immune, you know. Especially when they're still young and careless and not moms yet."
"Here's the tea."
Carole and Finn turned to find Burt walking into the boy's room, carefully carrying a steaming mug with both hands. Finn made a face. "Ugh! Tell me that's not Kurt's green tea..."
"No, this is Kurt's honeysuckle flower tea," said Burt. "Only thing he'll drink when he has a sore throat. Apparently it's some Chinese millennial remedy, or something like that."
With a moody grunt and a lot of effort, Finn sat up on his bed, and received the mug from Burt's hands. He sniffed the liquid, and sent a pleading look to his mother.
"Come on, honey, give it a try," urged Carole. "Nothing better for a sore throat than drinking something warm."
A little sip, another grimace, and Finn tried the puppy-dog look on his stepfather instead.
Burt snorted. "Oh, you're getting no sympathy from me, kid. Not after fooling me into building that kissing booth for you."
"How could you lie to Burt like that?" asked Carole with a wounded tone.
"I didn't lie," Finn murmured.
"You said it was for the glee club," Burt pointed out.
"And it was."
Carole and Burt exchanged a wry look.
"It really was," Finn mumbled dejectedly.
"Even if I were buying that, which I'm not," said Burt seriously, "it doesn't change the fact that you knew I thought it was some sort of prop for a musical or a play, and you let me go on thinking that."
"Still, not an actual lie..."
"Really? Because I remember asking you about that 'Kiss the Quarterback' sign, and you telling me about adapting Friday Night Lights to musical theater."
Finn took a long drink of his tea without complaint.
"Okay, here I am to relieve you," announced Kurt as he barged into Finn's room, still in Dalton uniform minus the blazer, bringing another mug. "Time to go on your über-romantic date, whatever it is, so shoo!"
Carole eyed Finn with concern. "I don't know, maybe I should stay..."
"No, no, no, no!" Kurt took her by the hand and pulled her up and away from the bed. "Come on, I left my own Lonely Hearts Club dinner earlier just so you two could salvage at least some of the night. Now go, your respective outfits are waiting for you at the master bedroom. I selected them this morning before going to school. I've just laid them on the bed for you, so there's no confusion."
Burt hadn't moved. "Kurt, are you sure you can handle it? We don't have to go..."
"Yes, you do! You guys already missed your honeymoon because of one son, you're not going to miss Valentine's because of the other. Thanks to you, Dad, I have plenty experience taking care of grouchy patients. Besides, look at that sorry picture." Kurt pointed unceremoniously at Finn. "Does he look strong enough to give me trouble?"
Finn tried to glare at Kurt, but even that came out a little weak.
Burt patted Kurt on the shoulder. "All right. Come on, Carole. If we run, we can still catch Carrieri's open."
As the couple left the room, Kurt sat at the end of the bed, next to Finn's feet, grinning broadly. "I missed you tonight, you know. When I said I didn't want you to cause a scene, I didn't mean I didn't want you to be there."
"Go on, you can say it," Finn muttered. "I know you want to. Say it. 'I told you so.' Go on."
"Finn Hudson, I'll let you know that my life isn't as bleak and devoid of personal successes that I would ever feel the need to take pleasure on your misery."
Finn relaxed a little, slumping against the headboard.
"However," Kurt went on, "just for the sake of your education, I will point out that yes, you would not be in this sad situation if you had just listened to my wisdom."
Finn sent him a baleful look. "You suck."
"Oh, come on... Aren't I here, to watch over and commiserate with you?" He raised his mug. "See, I even made some honeysuckle tea for myself as well!"
"Yeah, but I bet you actually like this stuff."
Kurt shrugged. "It has a nice scent and a slight, pleasant sweetness to the palate."
Finn tried another sip, much reluctantly, and his grimace this time was just a little less emphatic than before.
Kurt breathed in the steam spiraling up from his mug, and took a drink as well. He smiled fondly at Finn. "I'm serious, you know. I'm not here to torment you. I'm sorry things didn't turn out as well as you hoped."
"Things did turn out as I hoped, actually," Finn retorted. "Up until Santana decided to meddle."
"So... what, that's your one regret? Letting Santana slip you the tongue and her germs and not even pay you for your trouble?"
"Pretty much," Finn shrugged.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! It was totally worth it." Finn smirked at his brother. "Hey, you should set up a kissing booth at Dalton."
Kurt was horrified. "Absolutely not!"
"Why not? You're telling me you wouldn't like to have hundreds of boys lining up to kiss you?"
"For starters, the boys at Dalton might be accepting, but that doesn't make them gay. Most of them wouldn't feel any more eager to kiss me than would, say, Artie or Mike."
"Blaine would come to your booth for sure."
"No, he wouldn't. Blaine would do his best to talk me out of it. And even if he did come to the booth... if he let me kiss him under the excuse of a social event... what would that mean? Charity? Friendship? Pity? Nothing? Why would I even want any more kisses devoid of feeling?"
"Any more...? Oh, you mean Brittany?"
Kurt gulped. "Yes. Brittany." He took a long sip of his tea.
"But what if Blaine showed up at your booth, you know, not expecting anything, just to do his duty and contribute to the fund-raising... and then the moment you kissed him, boom! Fireworks!"
"Finn... You and Quinn have a history together. And she kissed you, no booth or excuse, just a week ago. Blaine and I... we don't have that. And there's nothing romantic at all about a kissing booth. Money changing hands, a line of impatient people waiting for their turn... Sorry, I just fail to see the appeal."
"So you're saying you wouldn't have come to mine if I had set it up last year?"
Kurt opened his mouth for an instant reply, but closed it a moment later. He lowered his eyes, seeming deep in thought, and didn't speak for a long while. Then, finally, he let out a little giggle.
"What?" Finn prompted.
"I was going to say, no, of course not, no frigging way. But then I realized that... after all we've talked about this week... after your putting up with my less than cheerful mood... you've earned the right to an honest, thought-out answer to that, not just a knee-jerk reaction."
Finn nodded solemnly.
"And the truth is..." Kurt gave him a tight smile. "No. I wouldn't have."
"Oh. Okay."
"Not back then, I wouldn't. But I might have now."
Finn's eyebrows climbed to meet his hairline.
"I told you, Finn, back then I thought you were clueless about me. And while part of me dreamed that you would figure it all out and give me a chance and that we'd live happily ever after in a castle of silk and mother-of-pearl, a lot of the time I was petrified that you would figure it all out and... well... that you'd react the way you did when I redecorated the basement in the old house. So... sure, I'd have thought about it, probably daydreamed about it. But if I were to come out and risk rejection, I definitely wouldn't have done it in front of the whole school. Mostly I don't care about what people think or say of me. But that doesn't mean I'm a glutton for public humiliation."
"I wouldn't have..." Finn began.
"Last year, you'd have reacted as you always did when you feared you were about to lose popularity points. And even if your response weren't as bad as I imagine it'd have been... It would still be a kissing booth, Finn. Sure, it'd have been awesome if the school could see the star quarterback being that open-minded. But as far as romance goes... Even in the best case scenario, I'd still end up with a one-dollar worth of a kiss, nothing more. And that wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted you to see me and think of me as an option." Kurt's tone was frank and even warm, with no signs of bitterness of regret.
"But now...?"
Kurt shrugged. "There is absolutely no reason why a kissing booth should be gender-oriented. If you're going to sell your kisses with no regard to race, religion or oral health, it'd be discrimination to deny me service on the account of my gender or sexuality."
Finn blinked. Several times. "You'd come to my kissing booth to... make a statement?"
"Of course!"
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Oh, we'd have long, heated arguments about it. Before, during, after, here at home and at school. And for what is worth, Dad would probably take your side, just like he did over my unsung duet with Sam. I know he wants me to be more careful not to offend heterosexuals' sensibilities. But there's a line, you know. I'm not going to hide in a corner just waiting for straight guys to finally realize that not all my dealings with the male sex are moved by romantic or lustful aspirations."
Finn arched an eyebrow. "Dude, it's a kissing booth."
"Exactly. A kissing booth. That's about as romantic and lustful as last year's cupcake baking sale. So why should I not be allowed to go up there, hand you a dollar bill and get a kiss on my forehead?"
"Oh. Oh! On the forehead? I thought you meant..."
"Well, I think you should be ready to kiss a guy on the lips if he paid for it at a kissing booth. It's only fair."
"Some other guy, though. Not you?"
Kurt shuddered. "Who knows where that mouth of yours has been. Besides, if I ever get to kiss someone again, I want it to actually mean something. Not just my brother reluctantly giving into my pro-equality argument." He sipped his tea.
"Okay, kids, we're going."
The two boys raised their heads to see Burt and Carole at the threshold, he in a dark green dress shirt and gray woven wool trousers, she in a cobalt blue tweed dress and gray crochet scarf. Kurt looked at them up and down and nodded approvingly.
"You're sure you two can manage all by yourselves?" asked Burt.
"Yeah," said Finn, staring at Kurt with a mix of wonder and affection. "We're cool."
Carole turned to Kurt. "Please check his fever at every half an hour, and call me if it starts rising again. Or if any rashes appear. Or if there's any problem. Or if..." She sighed. "Just call me, okay?"
"Will do," Kurt promised. "Don't worry."
"And you, mister," she told Finn, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, "just rest and obey your brother. Try to come up with constructive things to do at home while you're grounded."
"Grounded?! But, Mom..."
"Yes, grounded. As soon as you get better."
"Can't I serve my time while I'm sick?"
Carole patted his hand. "Nice try, sweetie."
"We shouldn't take long," said Burt.
"Yes, you should," Kurt retorted. "It's Valentine's Day."
"Either way, it's also school night, so don't be up too late." Burt placed a gentle hand on his wife's back as they stepped out of the room.
"Don't forget your coats," Kurt called after them. "Not the nylon jacket, Dad!"
The couple was already too far away for Burt's moody grumble to be understood.
When Kurt turned back to Finn, his brother still kept on staring at him with the same amazed look.
"What?" Kurt prompted.
"We really are cool, aren't we?" said Finn, as if only now realizing it.
Kurt winked at him. "Are you referring to our fabulousness as individuals, or to the relative peace in our relationship?"
Finn let out a chortle, regretting it immediately and raising his hand to circle his aching throat.
"Tea," Kurt reminded him.
Finn obeyed by having three more sips, and took a long breath before speaking again. "We still fight. Brothers do, I suppose. But that's the thing, we... we can fight. Because we're brothers, so it's okay."
"Does that mean you're not afraid of me anymore?"
"I'm afraid you might burn my clothes or poison me with your healthy food," Finn admitted. "You can be a real... uh... well..." He shrugged. "Really, you can be a real bitch when you're pissed."
Kurt waved the insult away. "Guilty as charged."
"Other than that... I don't even know why I was so freaked."
Kurt gave him a little smile and patted his socked feet in a friendly gesture. "I believe you said I was 'intense'? Poor Finn. Between me, Rachel and Quinn, you seem to really attract 'intensity'."
Finn sighed. "Rachel came to see me in the infirmary today. After Quinn left."
"And...?"
"I broke up with her."
"Again?"
"I think she really understood we're done now."
"That's what you said last time."
Finn groaned something under his breath.
"No breakup presents this time around, I hope?" Kurt asked.
"I told her about Quinn."
"Your being with Quinn never stopped Rachel from pursuing you. Not even when we all thought Quinn's baby was yours."
"But I told her... about the fireworks."
"Oh."
"With Quinn. Not with her."
"Oh..."
"And then she thanked me."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "She did?"
"She said I gave her the strength to move on and that she was going to focus on her dreams and..."
"Right. I know how the rest of that speech goes."
"You don't think she means it?"
"I... I guess she believes she does."
Finn sighed. "Anyway. Quinn told me to figure things out with Rachel, and I did. That's done."
"Are you sure?"
"What do you mean?"
Kurt toed off his shoes and stretched his legs on the bed, crossing them at the ankles. "I don't know, it's just peculiar, Rachel and you. It's not like you're really on and off, you're just always saying goodbye. Makes me think of a couple of sweethearts on the phone that goes from midnight to the first hours of the morning saying, 'You hang up first', 'No, you hang up first', 'No, you', and on and on and on."
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. "Could we not talk about Rachel? Please?"
Kurt smiled. "Fine. I did promise not to torment you, after all. What should we talk about instead? Mind you, it'd better be something I can discuss at length, because when I say 'talk', I actually mean 'I speak, you listen'. You have to give your throat a rest."
"Tell me what happened at your Valentine's-with-the-Warblers thing. Details. All the drama, the diva meltdowns, the Warbler oddities, the New Directions' craziness... Was there a glee-off?"
"Actually, it couldn't have gone any better. It totally exceeded my own expectations. The place was crowded, the diners were all very supportive - including those I didn't blackmail into going there to support me! And we did great, if I say so myself. I was pleasantly surprised, given how hard it was to convince the Warblers to fly off the nest and let loose for a change, and how tense rehearsals were. They wanted to practice every single interaction with the diners, prepare for every single eventuality, as if the thought of having to behave naturally and spontaneously absolutely terrified them. Really, I half expected them to act like shy little robots."
"Soulless automatons."
"Finn!" Kurt slapped him on the shins. "I do not believe you've just compared the Warblers to Vocal Adrenaline! That's like comparing..." He struggled to find a suitable comparison.
"Mogwais and gremlins?"
Kurt blinked. "So I'm only a late night snack short from turning into Jesse St. James?"
"No, I mean... the Warblers could potentially become like Vocal Adrenaline... because they kinda have the whole wanting-to-be-super-perfect-and-precise thing going too... but they're better than that. They have heart." Finn grimaced. "Maybe they do multiply with water, though..."
"Finn, I beg you, don't you start with the monster-making fountain water again."
Finn smirked. "Wouldn't that be kinda cool, though? Toss one singer into the fountain and get a whole glee club..." His voice caught on his throat and he winced.
"You're supposed to be listening quietly, remember?"
With a little pout, Finn drank his tea without waiting to be told.
"Anywaaaay..." Kurt drawled. "As I was saying, rehearsals were long and detailed to the point of being a little manic. And there we were, performing the first song of the night, Silly Love Songs. The planned choreography would have us come down the stage during the bridge to walk around the tables and interact with the diners, and back when we were discussing this, the guys were so reticent... Wes kept saying it wasn't dignified, Trent said it was too cabaret, and if Blaine hadn't insisted on it with the persistence of a telemarketer, the idea would've been dismissed in the first voting round. Yes, because, you see, there were four voting rounds to decide just that."
Finn snickered.
"But when it was actually time to do it," Kurt went on, "I could barely recognize them. They were really into it. They practically ran down to shake hands with the New Directions. And I mean 'shake hands' as a euphemism. Wes the Honorable Gavel Yielder practically jumped onto Santana's lap."
"Hope he didn't kiss her."
Kurt snorted. "I don't think it went that far. A good thing, given the fact that he has a steady girlfriend. I don't know, I think it'd really ruin my image of him if I found out he was a cheater. He's so... proper! Anyway, I heard David tease him about it later, and Wes replied, with a completely straight face, that he was merely performing in character." Kurt stretched a little, trying to get more comfortable as he leaned back against the footboard. "David is one to talk, though. When we did Eagle Eye Cherry's Save Tonight, Mike got up to dance and David joined him, and the two practically waltzed all over the place."
Finn picked one of the many pillows stacked behind him and handed it to Kurt.
"Thanks," said Kurt, fluffing it a little before placing it at his back. "Of course, the weirdest moment was when we did I'm a Believer. We hadn't got to the first chorus yet when I realized I was the only one still following the choreography we had rehearsed. Everyone else was just running around and jumping up and down... I even overheard one of the diners compare us to monkeys!"
Finn's eyes widened, and he started laughing even as he winced due to the sore throat.
"What?" asked Kurt.
"The Monkees! The band, the Monkees! You know everything about music, how can you not know the Monkees?"
Kurt looked a little affronted. "I do know who they are. What's that got to do with anything?"
"I'm a Believer! It's a Monkees' song."
"No, it's Neil Diamond's. It said so in the music sheet."
"Whatever, they recorded it. It's, like, one of their biggest hits. It's the most famous version of the song."
Kurt shrugged petulantly. "I'm more familiar with the one on the first Shrek movie myself."
"Are you serious? They played it in, like, every other episode of the TV show."
"I never watched the show."
"Why not? Their stuff is like the early Beatles, and you like the Beatles."
"They're not like the Beatles. That's like saying a knockoff Gucci is like real Gucci!"
Finn rolled his eyes. "They're not a knockoff. And you'd better not dis them around Mom, 'cause she's a fan. She has all the episodes and all."
"Three words for you," said Kurt, counting them off his fingers. "Acid. Washed. Jeans. I love Carole, but she's no great arbiter of good taste."
"Well, I'm sure she loves you too, even though you're a snob."
The two brothers glared at each other.
"So," said Finn eventually. "What else did you guys sing?"
Kurt let out a long breath. "Pretty Woman. We were supposed to come down the stage after the second verse, and each of us find a lady to sing to. I sang to Mercedes, Blaine sang to Rachel, Trent sang to Tina, David sang to Brittany, Thad sang to Jeanine the waitress..."
"Isn't she, like, super old?"
"Nick and Jeff were fighting for Zizes' attention, something that didn't please Puck. The others went farther back to sing to the other diners... and Santana looked pissed that there weren't enough guys singing to her."
"Hah!" Finn grinned, pleased.
"Things got considerably calmer when we did The Police's Every Breath You Take. Slow song, and we just stood together and sang, simple as that. I think Tina was tearing up a bit."
"She's been very... emotional this week," said Finn dryly.
"It was interesting to observe all the... staring going on among the New Directions."
"Staring how?"
"Uh... Artie watching every breath Brit took, Mike watching every move Tina made, Puck watching every claim Zizes staked, Santana watching every word Brit said... to Artie... and Sam watching every smile Santana faked..."
"Sam was watching Santana?"
"Or Santana was watching him... or maybe it was nothing and I was just too focused on the lyrics. It's hard for me to just stand in place and sing, you know? I keep wanting to perform the words. Even if I'm just doo-wopping in the background."
Finn nodded.
"We also did Teenage Dream and all the songs we performed at Sectionals. And, oddly enough, our encore was When I Get You Alone."
"Wasn't that...?"
"The song we serenaded Mr. Gap with? Yes."
"And Blaine was okay with it?"
"It was his own suggestion, actually. Believe me, I was surprised too. But he said we did such a good job of it at the store, it'd be a shame not to include it in the program. I don't know, maybe he wanted to link it to better memories?" Suddenly, Kurt let out a little giggle. "At least I managed to convince him not to climb on the tables this time around."
Finn raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Blaine has a... thing," Kurt explained. "For jumping onto the furniture while he performs. Tables, chairs, benches, sofas... I even saw him walk on the keys of a piano once." His smile vanished. "I might have slapped him on the back of his head then."
Finn snorted.
"Mangling of musical instruments aside, it's usually sort of cute. But I don't think those people would want to eat on those tables after he'd danced on them, no matter how pristine clean he keeps his shoes. Anyway... after the performance, the two glee clubs sat down and ate together, mostly peacefully."
"Mostly?"
"Thad ended up at Sam's table and they seemed to be hitting it off, but then their conversation got a little too animated... I couldn't quite hear them over the general ruckus of too many glee clubbers in one space, but I think they were talking about, uh... mountain banshees?" Kurt shrugged. "I'm not sure they were speaking entirely in English. But they got to an agreement soon enough, or so it seemed. Meanwhile, Nick and Jeff were having what appeared to be a very deep conversation with Brittany and Artie about bullfighters and bullfinches, David and Mike talked sneakers, and Wes told Mercedes, Rachel and Tina... and me, I should say... the history of the evolution of the Dalton uniform. I must say, that was fascinating. Short on the evolution per se, given that the uniform hasn't gone through that many changes over the decades, but rich on the significance of every detail and fabric option. Sadly, it was getting late and I needed to get home, so I had to leave before he got to the point when the pants went from cadet gray to battleship gray."
"You're falling in love."
"What?"
"With the Warblers. With Dalton. Your new friends. You're falling in love with your new life."
Kurt gazed at Finn in surprise, a ghost of sadness shadowing his eyes.
"It's not a bad thing," Finn reassured him. "I mean... I wouldn't want for you to be there and be miserable and friendless. You transferred there so you could be happy. Are you?"
"I... I don't know."
Finn smiled. "Getting there, then?"
Kurt twitched his lips, trying not to smile back. "I might be. Maybe. They are sort of adorable. With their own peculiar and... fussy brand of charm."
"Warbling monkeys," Finn snickered, poking Kurt's side with a gentle kick.
Kurt kicked back. "Shut up."
###
A/N: The Warblers' set list was taken from my own playlist of a capella songs: I'm a Believer and Every Breath You Take, both by The Other Guys, Pretty Woman by Rockapella, and Save Tonight by unknown artists. (If you recognize this version, please let me know who the performers are.)
First part is HERE.
6.
"You know, Hummel, I think you called the wrong number. Why the hell do you think I'd be interested in your Sergeant Pepper's Preppy Sparrows' Pity Party?"
"It's the Warblers' Lonely Hearts Club dinner, Santana. And I thought you might not want to be the only one from the New Directions not to come."
"Then you thought wrong, 'cause I certainly don't mind being the only one with something better to do on Valentine's Day than watching a bunch of Lady Larks swaying their fannies and chirruping about never-ending love."
"I am so disappointed in you. For someone who claims to have impeccable gaydar... Really, Azimio's might be more reliable than yours." Kurt snorted, and added in a lower tone, "And that's saying something."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Kurt shook his head and refocused on the present conversation. "It means what it means. Your gay jokes only serve to make you look ignorant. Of course, I'm talking to someone who thinks misconjugating verbs makes her sound tough, so why am I surprised?"
"And when have I ever cared about your opinion? Oh, that's right... Never!"
"Good for you. Because I also don't think much of your weak attempt at pretending your current social life is any more exciting than watching the hands move around a clock all day long. You forget I still have several trustworthy informants at McKinley High."
The sound that came from the other end of the line sounded positively like a growl. "Fine! So maybe I'm not playing my A-game right now. And yet, still I'd rather die than go to your stupid glee mixer. What does that tell you?"
Kurt saw his own brow frown in his vanity mirror and then clear up as a wicked smile twisted his lips. "Oh. I'm sorry, Santana. I hadn't realized it. You have an extremely good reason not to come."
"I have a thousand reasons. Which one are you talking about?"
"Puck, of course. He's coming with someone else. Not just someone else, but Lauren Zizes. That must be soooooo embarrassing to you."
"Wait, what?!"
"I totally get it. You need to protect your heart from the pain of seeing them together."
"Hummel, are you stoned? The most I get from seeing Puck with the white hippopotamus is heartburn."
"Of course, Puck will probably realize that he was the reason why you're the only one who didn't go. That you care for him so much that you'd rather spend Valentine's Day at home, all alone, crying in your bed, than face the fact that he likes someone else."
"That is a colossal load of bullshit!"
"And anyway, I suppose your heart is not the only thing you should protect. I mean, I heard how Zizes scrubbed the floor of the school with your hair yesterday."
"WHAT?! I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent, you hear me? I grew up sharpening my teeth on the bones of girls like Zizes. Whatever you heard is a lie from people who piss themselves whenever I walk into a room. I put Zizes in. Her. Place. Have fun picking out her bones in tomorrow's meatloaf surprise."
"I see. Anyway, you're absolutely right. There's no way Puck will think you're heartbroken because of him. I mean, it's not like he's a conceited prick who thinks everyone wants to get in his shorts. Deep down, he's a very humble, unpretentious guy. And Zizes, she'll know better than to think you're afraid of her. Right?"
There was a very, very long pause. Kurt merely waited.
"Hummel?" Santana hissed.
"Yes?"
"You're a despicable manipulative bitch. I'm almost proud of you."
"Why, Santana, I think that might have been the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!" Kurt picked up a pen a ticked off Santana's name from the list in front of him. "Tomorrow, Breadstix, 8:00 sharp. See you there."
"Some of those Warblers had better be straight to make it worth my time."
"Most of them are," Kurt assured her. "Most of them have girlfriends too, though."
"Entirely irrelevant. By the way, Kurt... How's Finn?"
"Finn? He's not home yet, so you must have seen him the latest. Why?"
"Oh, just curious."
"If you're thinking of asking Finn to be your last resource date for Valentine's..."
"Oh, please! If I were interested in lame reruns, I'd stay home and watch Little House on the Prairie. Just thought he looked a little green earlier. You know, serial kissing is not for the untrained rookie, there's technique to it."
"Trust you to make kissing sound like a sport."
"Don't knock it 'til you try it, Cherry Lips." Next, Kurt heard the noise of Santana hanging up.
He put down his cell with a sigh. "I have tried it," he muttered. "So far, it has failed to live up to the hype."
"Who were you talking to?"
Kurt turned on his seat and found Finn standing at his door, bringing their two mugs of milk. "That must have been a very long and entertaining pyrotechnical spectacle if you only got home now."
"What?"
"Fireworks, Finn?"
"Oh. Yeah, lots of fireworks," said Finn with a lopsided smile. "I even lost track of time."
"Well, you didn't miss dinner, so it can't have been that exciting."
Finn set one of the mugs on the vanity, and sat down on Kurt's bed. "So who were you talking to? I heard my name."
"Santana. She asked about you."
"Really?" Finn's smile turned into a smirk. "I think she might have a thing for me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Think about it. Why else would she ask about me?"
"I don't know, and if I were you, I'd be afraid to find out."
"That's because you don't know what happened between us today." Finn eyed Kurt suspiciously. "Do you?"
"Uh... Hmm. It's possible that my informants might have failed me this time. I should have a serious conversation with them. So what happened?"
"She kissed me."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right. And this actually might be significant, if you hadn't set up a kissing booth at school."
"Yeah, but it wasn't a kissing booth kiss."
"Oh. You were not at the booth when it happened?"
"Well, no, I was. But she didn't wait in line."
"She never does."
"And she was wearing a sexy candy striper costume."
"Bizarre, but still..."
"And she didn't pay me!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly.
"Not necessarily a compliment."
"She said she couldn't help herself."
"Not necessarily personal."
"Why are you being so negative?" Finn grimaced. "Is it because she used to be with Puck? Because no girl who's been with him could possibly be interested in me?"
"No, it's because it's Santana. That girl doesn't breathe without an ulterior motive. You'd better watch your back."
"I can handle Santana."
Kurt gazed at Finn with fond exasperation, but said nothing, choosing to drink his milk instead.
"Did she call you to ask what I'll be doing on Valentine's?"
"No, I called her to tell her what she'll be doing on Valentine's," Kurt retorted. "The Warblers will be putting on a little show at Breadstix. They were pretty excited about the positive response we got from the shoppers at the Gap, and Blaine and I managed to convince the council that we have a lot to gain from offering more informal performances like that. We'll be singing songs that were voted out from the setlist for Sectionals, so we don't need much preparation. I already invited... or blackmailed... almost everyone from the New Directions. Except for you and Quinn, of course, I knew you'd be too busy to answer your phones. All of the others have confirmed their presence."
Finn frowned suspiciously. "Kurt, what are you planning?"
Kurt blinked. "Haven't I just explained it all at length?"
"Yeah, and it sounds like you found a sneaky way to spend Valentine's with Blaine. Only with two glee clubs worth of chaperones."
"It's not like that. Blaine and I talked. We cleared the whole thing up."
Finn snorted. "No, you didn't."
"Yes, we did."
"Does he know you like him?" Finn asked with a challenging tone.
"Yes."
Finn's eyes widened in shock. "You told him you like him?"
"I told him I thought he was going to ask me out."
"And...?"
"And he let me know the thought has never crossed his mind."
"Ouch."
"I know. Not exactly good news. But our friendship is too important for the both of us, and we agreed not to let it be ruined by mixed signals and foolish romantic fantasies."
"Yeah, but... won't it be weird now?"
"It doesn't have to be. I think it's better this way, with all in the open. Now he knows that I was interested, and I know he never was. We move on from that."
"Can you?"
Kurt shrugged. "If I can be your brother, then I can be his friend. It shouldn't be half as complicated. In a way, I'm relieved."
"Relieved? Why?"
"I didn't want my relationship with Blaine to be like my relationship with you last year," said Kurt frankly.
Finn looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "What?"
"I didn't know... if you knew... that I..." Kurt took a deep breath, braced himself and went on. "You wouldn't say anything. I suppose you were pretending you didn't notice how I felt... but at the time I thought you legitimately didn't understand it. Only when you yelled at me, that day when I redecorated the basement... then I knew you knew. Then I knew you had known all along."
"I... I thought that if I didn't say anything..."
"That it would all go away? That I would go away?"
"I didn't want you to go away," Finn countered. "If I did, I'd have pushed you away right from the start, without a second thought. But you've always been super smart, so I was hoping I wouldn't have to. That you'd give up eventually, and go for someone like you. Who could like you back in that way. I didn't want to say the words that would hurt your feelings, okay?"
"Why, thank you. Because it's really much more agreeable to be addressed by a homophobic slur than to be let down gently."
Finn gazed at his brother sadly. "Do we really need to keep doing this? I screwed up that day. You were getting crazy intense, and you know that, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. And okay, maybe things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand if I had manned up and told you to stop as soon as I noticed your flirting. But I can't say I'm sorry. I just can't."
"You're not sorry," Kurt echoed acidly.
"No. And you shouldn't be either. We both screwed up, and because of that, our parents are together. And they're, like, chick-movie-ending happy. And you and I, we have... this." Finn clinked their mugs together in a toast.
Kurt stared at their mugs, his face touched by a mix of surprise, affection and sadness. He remained a good couple of minutes completely still and silent, seemingly lost in thoughts. Finn tried not to fidget as he waited for his brother to show some kind of reaction.
"So, basically, 'All's well that ends well'?" Kurt murmured eventually.
"Something like that."
Kurt bit down his lower lip. "I didn't think I was still angry about this. I told you, forgiving isn't my forte."
"Are you really angry? I'm not sure you sounded angry."
"Bitter? Resentful? Whiny?"
"How about scared?"
Kurt raised his eyes to face Finn, startled.
"It's like... my left arm. I broke it jumping from a swing when I was ten. Right here." Finn changed his mug from one hand to the other, and traced a line with his finger, crossing his forearm roughly in the middle of the bone. "It's fixed now, it doesn't bother me at all. I remember that at the time I thought maybe it'd hurt when it's about to rain, like my old neighbor Mr. Koontz's hips, but no. Most of the time I don't even remember it happened. But sometimes, you know, walking past a playground, or watching Mom debone a chicken, or for whatever reason, it kinda comes back, you know? Not exactly the pain but the fear of pain?"
Kurt frowned in concentration. "So, if I’m translating your analogy correctly, the swing is you, your fractured arm is my broken heart, and Blaine is the chicken."
Finn blinked. "Uh. Yes?"
"And I'm lashing out at you because I'm petrified that I'm going to make the same mistakes I've made before, or that Blaine will do things that will dramatically sour our friendship, as it happened to us last year."
Finn gave him a big smile. "See? You totally get me."
Kurt returned the smile more timidly. "I try. There are still things about you I find rather incomprehensible, though."
"Like what?"
"Never mind."
"No, what?"
Kurt shrugged and sipped his milk.
"Come on, Kurt. What?"
"Finn... you do realize that those fireworks with Quinn might end up causing major burns for a lot of people, don't you?"
Finn's smile vanished instantly. "You mean Sam."
"For starters. I was on the phone with him about half an hour ago, and he seemed convinced that he'll be taking Quinn as his date to Breadstix tomorrow."
"He probably will," Finn grumbled. "She hasn't decided to break up with him. Yet."
"What makes you think she will?"
"She's cheating on him with me. If she loved him, she wouldn't risk hurting him."
"She's cheated on you too," Kurt pointed out.
"Before. Things are different between us now. I can feel it."
"And just how do you feel walking a mile in Puck's boots?"
"Wait, what?"
"I know you've wondered what kind of person seduces a friend's girlfriend. Now you know the answer."
Finn looked grim. "It's different. Puck's been my friend since forever. I've known Sam for, like, five months."
"And hasn't he been your friend for those five months?"
"Not the same."
"Has he done anything to deserve being hurt by you?"
Finn started saying something, but shut his mouth and looked away.
Kurt's eyes widened. "Oh my... I'm so stupid! Of course he did something. He questioned your leadership!"
"That has nothing to do with it!" Finn protested.
"Really? And you're sure those fireworks weren't actually celebrating you getting one up on the guy who's been challenging you both on glee and on the football team?"
"Quinn was my girlfriend first, remember? Sam didn't even exist back then. So don't you dare say that what I have with her isn't real."
Finn was about to stand up when Kurt grasped his wrist, squeezing it just for a moment before letting go. "Finn, I just want you to realize that this could turn into a really messy fight inside the glee club, so I hope you're sure that what you're fighting for is really worth the consequences. Okay? I don't want you to get hurt. Especially because, apparently, being the older brother implies beating up the people who hurts my younger brother, and while I'm perfectly comfortable slaughtering whoever I have to with my razor-sharp words, I don't really enjoy the thought of inflicting physical violence."
Finn's lips quirked in a lopsided smile, and nodded.
"But, let me warn you, Finn Hudson. When you see Sam and Quinn together at Breadstix tomorrow night, you are not to cause any scenes. Make no mistake, I am not so opposed to violence that I won't kick your ass into next season if you do something to mess up my Lonely Hearts Club dinner."
Finn merely rolled his eyes and sipped his milk.
7.
"It was for charity, Mom!"
"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?"
"I'm serious. The money goes to pay for the glee club's trip to Nationals."
Carole silenced her son by sticking a thermometer in his mouth. "First, I wouldn't call it charity if you're going to benefit from it yourself. Fund-raising, yes. Charity, not so much. Second, I'm sure there are other ways to raise funds that are far more effective, not to mention safer, than a kissing booth."
Finn garbled something unintelligible.
"Quiet. And third, just give me a break. You are a sweet, generous boy, but you did not come up with that scheme out of the goodness of your heart. And I'm surprised any of the teachers in that school could fall for that sorry excuse."
Finn pressed his head against the pillow, closing his eyes tightly.
"Honey, remember when you told me the thing you wanted the most in the world was a giant pool full of Skittles?"
"I wash zhust a 'ittle kidz..." said Finn around the thermometer.
"Hush... Remember what I told you then? About how that much candy would give you a tummy ache for sure?" Carole pushed her fingers through Finn's hair in a gentle caress. "And how after a while you'd get so fed up with Skittles, you wouldn't even want to see one ever again?"
Finn blushed a little and nodded.
"Anything you love won't be as enjoyable anymore if you don't treat it as something special. Kisses are to be treasured! If you kiss someone and you don't feel the butterflies in your stomach, and your heart doesn't try to jump out of your chest, and your head doesn't start spinning and your feet don't lift off the floor... oh, sweetie, then you're just not doing it right."
"Vireworgz?"
Carole smiled. "Yes. There needs to be fireworks. Lots and lots of them." She pulled out the thermometer from his mouth and checked it. "101°F. Well, it's come down a little bit. Still a long way to go, though. When I had mono, I couldn't drag myself out of bed for about three weeks. Let's hope you're luckier."
"You had mono?" Finn croaked. "But... you're a mom!"
Caroled giggled. "Moms aren't immune, you know. Especially when they're still young and careless and not moms yet."
"Here's the tea."
Carole and Finn turned to find Burt walking into the boy's room, carefully carrying a steaming mug with both hands. Finn made a face. "Ugh! Tell me that's not Kurt's green tea..."
"No, this is Kurt's honeysuckle flower tea," said Burt. "Only thing he'll drink when he has a sore throat. Apparently it's some Chinese millennial remedy, or something like that."
With a moody grunt and a lot of effort, Finn sat up on his bed, and received the mug from Burt's hands. He sniffed the liquid, and sent a pleading look to his mother.
"Come on, honey, give it a try," urged Carole. "Nothing better for a sore throat than drinking something warm."
A little sip, another grimace, and Finn tried the puppy-dog look on his stepfather instead.
Burt snorted. "Oh, you're getting no sympathy from me, kid. Not after fooling me into building that kissing booth for you."
"How could you lie to Burt like that?" asked Carole with a wounded tone.
"I didn't lie," Finn murmured.
"You said it was for the glee club," Burt pointed out.
"And it was."
Carole and Burt exchanged a wry look.
"It really was," Finn mumbled dejectedly.
"Even if I were buying that, which I'm not," said Burt seriously, "it doesn't change the fact that you knew I thought it was some sort of prop for a musical or a play, and you let me go on thinking that."
"Still, not an actual lie..."
"Really? Because I remember asking you about that 'Kiss the Quarterback' sign, and you telling me about adapting Friday Night Lights to musical theater."
Finn took a long drink of his tea without complaint.
"Okay, here I am to relieve you," announced Kurt as he barged into Finn's room, still in Dalton uniform minus the blazer, bringing another mug. "Time to go on your über-romantic date, whatever it is, so shoo!"
Carole eyed Finn with concern. "I don't know, maybe I should stay..."
"No, no, no, no!" Kurt took her by the hand and pulled her up and away from the bed. "Come on, I left my own Lonely Hearts Club dinner earlier just so you two could salvage at least some of the night. Now go, your respective outfits are waiting for you at the master bedroom. I selected them this morning before going to school. I've just laid them on the bed for you, so there's no confusion."
Burt hadn't moved. "Kurt, are you sure you can handle it? We don't have to go..."
"Yes, you do! You guys already missed your honeymoon because of one son, you're not going to miss Valentine's because of the other. Thanks to you, Dad, I have plenty experience taking care of grouchy patients. Besides, look at that sorry picture." Kurt pointed unceremoniously at Finn. "Does he look strong enough to give me trouble?"
Finn tried to glare at Kurt, but even that came out a little weak.
Burt patted Kurt on the shoulder. "All right. Come on, Carole. If we run, we can still catch Carrieri's open."
As the couple left the room, Kurt sat at the end of the bed, next to Finn's feet, grinning broadly. "I missed you tonight, you know. When I said I didn't want you to cause a scene, I didn't mean I didn't want you to be there."
"Go on, you can say it," Finn muttered. "I know you want to. Say it. 'I told you so.' Go on."
"Finn Hudson, I'll let you know that my life isn't as bleak and devoid of personal successes that I would ever feel the need to take pleasure on your misery."
Finn relaxed a little, slumping against the headboard.
"However," Kurt went on, "just for the sake of your education, I will point out that yes, you would not be in this sad situation if you had just listened to my wisdom."
Finn sent him a baleful look. "You suck."
"Oh, come on... Aren't I here, to watch over and commiserate with you?" He raised his mug. "See, I even made some honeysuckle tea for myself as well!"
"Yeah, but I bet you actually like this stuff."
Kurt shrugged. "It has a nice scent and a slight, pleasant sweetness to the palate."
Finn tried another sip, much reluctantly, and his grimace this time was just a little less emphatic than before.
Kurt breathed in the steam spiraling up from his mug, and took a drink as well. He smiled fondly at Finn. "I'm serious, you know. I'm not here to torment you. I'm sorry things didn't turn out as well as you hoped."
"Things did turn out as I hoped, actually," Finn retorted. "Up until Santana decided to meddle."
"So... what, that's your one regret? Letting Santana slip you the tongue and her germs and not even pay you for your trouble?"
"Pretty much," Finn shrugged.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! It was totally worth it." Finn smirked at his brother. "Hey, you should set up a kissing booth at Dalton."
Kurt was horrified. "Absolutely not!"
"Why not? You're telling me you wouldn't like to have hundreds of boys lining up to kiss you?"
"For starters, the boys at Dalton might be accepting, but that doesn't make them gay. Most of them wouldn't feel any more eager to kiss me than would, say, Artie or Mike."
"Blaine would come to your booth for sure."
"No, he wouldn't. Blaine would do his best to talk me out of it. And even if he did come to the booth... if he let me kiss him under the excuse of a social event... what would that mean? Charity? Friendship? Pity? Nothing? Why would I even want any more kisses devoid of feeling?"
"Any more...? Oh, you mean Brittany?"
Kurt gulped. "Yes. Brittany." He took a long sip of his tea.
"But what if Blaine showed up at your booth, you know, not expecting anything, just to do his duty and contribute to the fund-raising... and then the moment you kissed him, boom! Fireworks!"
"Finn... You and Quinn have a history together. And she kissed you, no booth or excuse, just a week ago. Blaine and I... we don't have that. And there's nothing romantic at all about a kissing booth. Money changing hands, a line of impatient people waiting for their turn... Sorry, I just fail to see the appeal."
"So you're saying you wouldn't have come to mine if I had set it up last year?"
Kurt opened his mouth for an instant reply, but closed it a moment later. He lowered his eyes, seeming deep in thought, and didn't speak for a long while. Then, finally, he let out a little giggle.
"What?" Finn prompted.
"I was going to say, no, of course not, no frigging way. But then I realized that... after all we've talked about this week... after your putting up with my less than cheerful mood... you've earned the right to an honest, thought-out answer to that, not just a knee-jerk reaction."
Finn nodded solemnly.
"And the truth is..." Kurt gave him a tight smile. "No. I wouldn't have."
"Oh. Okay."
"Not back then, I wouldn't. But I might have now."
Finn's eyebrows climbed to meet his hairline.
"I told you, Finn, back then I thought you were clueless about me. And while part of me dreamed that you would figure it all out and give me a chance and that we'd live happily ever after in a castle of silk and mother-of-pearl, a lot of the time I was petrified that you would figure it all out and... well... that you'd react the way you did when I redecorated the basement in the old house. So... sure, I'd have thought about it, probably daydreamed about it. But if I were to come out and risk rejection, I definitely wouldn't have done it in front of the whole school. Mostly I don't care about what people think or say of me. But that doesn't mean I'm a glutton for public humiliation."
"I wouldn't have..." Finn began.
"Last year, you'd have reacted as you always did when you feared you were about to lose popularity points. And even if your response weren't as bad as I imagine it'd have been... It would still be a kissing booth, Finn. Sure, it'd have been awesome if the school could see the star quarterback being that open-minded. But as far as romance goes... Even in the best case scenario, I'd still end up with a one-dollar worth of a kiss, nothing more. And that wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted you to see me and think of me as an option." Kurt's tone was frank and even warm, with no signs of bitterness of regret.
"But now...?"
Kurt shrugged. "There is absolutely no reason why a kissing booth should be gender-oriented. If you're going to sell your kisses with no regard to race, religion or oral health, it'd be discrimination to deny me service on the account of my gender or sexuality."
Finn blinked. Several times. "You'd come to my kissing booth to... make a statement?"
"Of course!"
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Oh, we'd have long, heated arguments about it. Before, during, after, here at home and at school. And for what is worth, Dad would probably take your side, just like he did over my unsung duet with Sam. I know he wants me to be more careful not to offend heterosexuals' sensibilities. But there's a line, you know. I'm not going to hide in a corner just waiting for straight guys to finally realize that not all my dealings with the male sex are moved by romantic or lustful aspirations."
Finn arched an eyebrow. "Dude, it's a kissing booth."
"Exactly. A kissing booth. That's about as romantic and lustful as last year's cupcake baking sale. So why should I not be allowed to go up there, hand you a dollar bill and get a kiss on my forehead?"
"Oh. Oh! On the forehead? I thought you meant..."
"Well, I think you should be ready to kiss a guy on the lips if he paid for it at a kissing booth. It's only fair."
"Some other guy, though. Not you?"
Kurt shuddered. "Who knows where that mouth of yours has been. Besides, if I ever get to kiss someone again, I want it to actually mean something. Not just my brother reluctantly giving into my pro-equality argument." He sipped his tea.
"Okay, kids, we're going."
The two boys raised their heads to see Burt and Carole at the threshold, he in a dark green dress shirt and gray woven wool trousers, she in a cobalt blue tweed dress and gray crochet scarf. Kurt looked at them up and down and nodded approvingly.
"You're sure you two can manage all by yourselves?" asked Burt.
"Yeah," said Finn, staring at Kurt with a mix of wonder and affection. "We're cool."
Carole turned to Kurt. "Please check his fever at every half an hour, and call me if it starts rising again. Or if any rashes appear. Or if there's any problem. Or if..." She sighed. "Just call me, okay?"
"Will do," Kurt promised. "Don't worry."
"And you, mister," she told Finn, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, "just rest and obey your brother. Try to come up with constructive things to do at home while you're grounded."
"Grounded?! But, Mom..."
"Yes, grounded. As soon as you get better."
"Can't I serve my time while I'm sick?"
Carole patted his hand. "Nice try, sweetie."
"We shouldn't take long," said Burt.
"Yes, you should," Kurt retorted. "It's Valentine's Day."
"Either way, it's also school night, so don't be up too late." Burt placed a gentle hand on his wife's back as they stepped out of the room.
"Don't forget your coats," Kurt called after them. "Not the nylon jacket, Dad!"
The couple was already too far away for Burt's moody grumble to be understood.
When Kurt turned back to Finn, his brother still kept on staring at him with the same amazed look.
"What?" Kurt prompted.
"We really are cool, aren't we?" said Finn, as if only now realizing it.
Kurt winked at him. "Are you referring to our fabulousness as individuals, or to the relative peace in our relationship?"
Finn let out a chortle, regretting it immediately and raising his hand to circle his aching throat.
"Tea," Kurt reminded him.
Finn obeyed by having three more sips, and took a long breath before speaking again. "We still fight. Brothers do, I suppose. But that's the thing, we... we can fight. Because we're brothers, so it's okay."
"Does that mean you're not afraid of me anymore?"
"I'm afraid you might burn my clothes or poison me with your healthy food," Finn admitted. "You can be a real... uh... well..." He shrugged. "Really, you can be a real bitch when you're pissed."
Kurt waved the insult away. "Guilty as charged."
"Other than that... I don't even know why I was so freaked."
Kurt gave him a little smile and patted his socked feet in a friendly gesture. "I believe you said I was 'intense'? Poor Finn. Between me, Rachel and Quinn, you seem to really attract 'intensity'."
Finn sighed. "Rachel came to see me in the infirmary today. After Quinn left."
"And...?"
"I broke up with her."
"Again?"
"I think she really understood we're done now."
"That's what you said last time."
Finn groaned something under his breath.
"No breakup presents this time around, I hope?" Kurt asked.
"I told her about Quinn."
"Your being with Quinn never stopped Rachel from pursuing you. Not even when we all thought Quinn's baby was yours."
"But I told her... about the fireworks."
"Oh."
"With Quinn. Not with her."
"Oh..."
"And then she thanked me."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "She did?"
"She said I gave her the strength to move on and that she was going to focus on her dreams and..."
"Right. I know how the rest of that speech goes."
"You don't think she means it?"
"I... I guess she believes she does."
Finn sighed. "Anyway. Quinn told me to figure things out with Rachel, and I did. That's done."
"Are you sure?"
"What do you mean?"
Kurt toed off his shoes and stretched his legs on the bed, crossing them at the ankles. "I don't know, it's just peculiar, Rachel and you. It's not like you're really on and off, you're just always saying goodbye. Makes me think of a couple of sweethearts on the phone that goes from midnight to the first hours of the morning saying, 'You hang up first', 'No, you hang up first', 'No, you', and on and on and on."
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. "Could we not talk about Rachel? Please?"
Kurt smiled. "Fine. I did promise not to torment you, after all. What should we talk about instead? Mind you, it'd better be something I can discuss at length, because when I say 'talk', I actually mean 'I speak, you listen'. You have to give your throat a rest."
"Tell me what happened at your Valentine's-with-the-Warblers thing. Details. All the drama, the diva meltdowns, the Warbler oddities, the New Directions' craziness... Was there a glee-off?"
"Actually, it couldn't have gone any better. It totally exceeded my own expectations. The place was crowded, the diners were all very supportive - including those I didn't blackmail into going there to support me! And we did great, if I say so myself. I was pleasantly surprised, given how hard it was to convince the Warblers to fly off the nest and let loose for a change, and how tense rehearsals were. They wanted to practice every single interaction with the diners, prepare for every single eventuality, as if the thought of having to behave naturally and spontaneously absolutely terrified them. Really, I half expected them to act like shy little robots."
"Soulless automatons."
"Finn!" Kurt slapped him on the shins. "I do not believe you've just compared the Warblers to Vocal Adrenaline! That's like comparing..." He struggled to find a suitable comparison.
"Mogwais and gremlins?"
Kurt blinked. "So I'm only a late night snack short from turning into Jesse St. James?"
"No, I mean... the Warblers could potentially become like Vocal Adrenaline... because they kinda have the whole wanting-to-be-super-perfect-and-precise thing going too... but they're better than that. They have heart." Finn grimaced. "Maybe they do multiply with water, though..."
"Finn, I beg you, don't you start with the monster-making fountain water again."
Finn smirked. "Wouldn't that be kinda cool, though? Toss one singer into the fountain and get a whole glee club..." His voice caught on his throat and he winced.
"You're supposed to be listening quietly, remember?"
With a little pout, Finn drank his tea without waiting to be told.
"Anywaaaay..." Kurt drawled. "As I was saying, rehearsals were long and detailed to the point of being a little manic. And there we were, performing the first song of the night, Silly Love Songs. The planned choreography would have us come down the stage during the bridge to walk around the tables and interact with the diners, and back when we were discussing this, the guys were so reticent... Wes kept saying it wasn't dignified, Trent said it was too cabaret, and if Blaine hadn't insisted on it with the persistence of a telemarketer, the idea would've been dismissed in the first voting round. Yes, because, you see, there were four voting rounds to decide just that."
Finn snickered.
"But when it was actually time to do it," Kurt went on, "I could barely recognize them. They were really into it. They practically ran down to shake hands with the New Directions. And I mean 'shake hands' as a euphemism. Wes the Honorable Gavel Yielder practically jumped onto Santana's lap."
"Hope he didn't kiss her."
Kurt snorted. "I don't think it went that far. A good thing, given the fact that he has a steady girlfriend. I don't know, I think it'd really ruin my image of him if I found out he was a cheater. He's so... proper! Anyway, I heard David tease him about it later, and Wes replied, with a completely straight face, that he was merely performing in character." Kurt stretched a little, trying to get more comfortable as he leaned back against the footboard. "David is one to talk, though. When we did Eagle Eye Cherry's Save Tonight, Mike got up to dance and David joined him, and the two practically waltzed all over the place."
Finn picked one of the many pillows stacked behind him and handed it to Kurt.
"Thanks," said Kurt, fluffing it a little before placing it at his back. "Of course, the weirdest moment was when we did I'm a Believer. We hadn't got to the first chorus yet when I realized I was the only one still following the choreography we had rehearsed. Everyone else was just running around and jumping up and down... I even overheard one of the diners compare us to monkeys!"
Finn's eyes widened, and he started laughing even as he winced due to the sore throat.
"What?" asked Kurt.
"The Monkees! The band, the Monkees! You know everything about music, how can you not know the Monkees?"
Kurt looked a little affronted. "I do know who they are. What's that got to do with anything?"
"I'm a Believer! It's a Monkees' song."
"No, it's Neil Diamond's. It said so in the music sheet."
"Whatever, they recorded it. It's, like, one of their biggest hits. It's the most famous version of the song."
Kurt shrugged petulantly. "I'm more familiar with the one on the first Shrek movie myself."
"Are you serious? They played it in, like, every other episode of the TV show."
"I never watched the show."
"Why not? Their stuff is like the early Beatles, and you like the Beatles."
"They're not like the Beatles. That's like saying a knockoff Gucci is like real Gucci!"
Finn rolled his eyes. "They're not a knockoff. And you'd better not dis them around Mom, 'cause she's a fan. She has all the episodes and all."
"Three words for you," said Kurt, counting them off his fingers. "Acid. Washed. Jeans. I love Carole, but she's no great arbiter of good taste."
"Well, I'm sure she loves you too, even though you're a snob."
The two brothers glared at each other.
"So," said Finn eventually. "What else did you guys sing?"
Kurt let out a long breath. "Pretty Woman. We were supposed to come down the stage after the second verse, and each of us find a lady to sing to. I sang to Mercedes, Blaine sang to Rachel, Trent sang to Tina, David sang to Brittany, Thad sang to Jeanine the waitress..."
"Isn't she, like, super old?"
"Nick and Jeff were fighting for Zizes' attention, something that didn't please Puck. The others went farther back to sing to the other diners... and Santana looked pissed that there weren't enough guys singing to her."
"Hah!" Finn grinned, pleased.
"Things got considerably calmer when we did The Police's Every Breath You Take. Slow song, and we just stood together and sang, simple as that. I think Tina was tearing up a bit."
"She's been very... emotional this week," said Finn dryly.
"It was interesting to observe all the... staring going on among the New Directions."
"Staring how?"
"Uh... Artie watching every breath Brit took, Mike watching every move Tina made, Puck watching every claim Zizes staked, Santana watching every word Brit said... to Artie... and Sam watching every smile Santana faked..."
"Sam was watching Santana?"
"Or Santana was watching him... or maybe it was nothing and I was just too focused on the lyrics. It's hard for me to just stand in place and sing, you know? I keep wanting to perform the words. Even if I'm just doo-wopping in the background."
Finn nodded.
"We also did Teenage Dream and all the songs we performed at Sectionals. And, oddly enough, our encore was When I Get You Alone."
"Wasn't that...?"
"The song we serenaded Mr. Gap with? Yes."
"And Blaine was okay with it?"
"It was his own suggestion, actually. Believe me, I was surprised too. But he said we did such a good job of it at the store, it'd be a shame not to include it in the program. I don't know, maybe he wanted to link it to better memories?" Suddenly, Kurt let out a little giggle. "At least I managed to convince him not to climb on the tables this time around."
Finn raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Blaine has a... thing," Kurt explained. "For jumping onto the furniture while he performs. Tables, chairs, benches, sofas... I even saw him walk on the keys of a piano once." His smile vanished. "I might have slapped him on the back of his head then."
Finn snorted.
"Mangling of musical instruments aside, it's usually sort of cute. But I don't think those people would want to eat on those tables after he'd danced on them, no matter how pristine clean he keeps his shoes. Anyway... after the performance, the two glee clubs sat down and ate together, mostly peacefully."
"Mostly?"
"Thad ended up at Sam's table and they seemed to be hitting it off, but then their conversation got a little too animated... I couldn't quite hear them over the general ruckus of too many glee clubbers in one space, but I think they were talking about, uh... mountain banshees?" Kurt shrugged. "I'm not sure they were speaking entirely in English. But they got to an agreement soon enough, or so it seemed. Meanwhile, Nick and Jeff were having what appeared to be a very deep conversation with Brittany and Artie about bullfighters and bullfinches, David and Mike talked sneakers, and Wes told Mercedes, Rachel and Tina... and me, I should say... the history of the evolution of the Dalton uniform. I must say, that was fascinating. Short on the evolution per se, given that the uniform hasn't gone through that many changes over the decades, but rich on the significance of every detail and fabric option. Sadly, it was getting late and I needed to get home, so I had to leave before he got to the point when the pants went from cadet gray to battleship gray."
"You're falling in love."
"What?"
"With the Warblers. With Dalton. Your new friends. You're falling in love with your new life."
Kurt gazed at Finn in surprise, a ghost of sadness shadowing his eyes.
"It's not a bad thing," Finn reassured him. "I mean... I wouldn't want for you to be there and be miserable and friendless. You transferred there so you could be happy. Are you?"
"I... I don't know."
Finn smiled. "Getting there, then?"
Kurt twitched his lips, trying not to smile back. "I might be. Maybe. They are sort of adorable. With their own peculiar and... fussy brand of charm."
"Warbling monkeys," Finn snickered, poking Kurt's side with a gentle kick.
Kurt kicked back. "Shut up."
###
A/N: The Warblers' set list was taken from my own playlist of a capella songs: I'm a Believer and Every Breath You Take, both by The Other Guys, Pretty Woman by Rockapella, and Save Tonight by unknown artists. (If you recognize this version, please let me know who the performers are.)