Smile & Breathe [Hummelberry Week - Day 1 - Broadway]
Title: Smile & Breathe
Author: panbutnotpeter [tumblr]
Characters/Pairings: Hummelberry (Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel friendship)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~660
Notes: Just a super quick, unbeta'd drabble. Written for Day 1 of Hummelberry Week. The day's theme is Broadway.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Summary: Rachel supports Kurt through his first big Broadway role.
*****
Kurt doesn’t understand why he’s panicking like this. He’s performed in Broadway productions before. As merely a chorus member, but still. Just because this will be his first solo singing role, his first name credit role, doesn’t mean his jaw has any cause to be locking up with sudden terror. He’s spectacular, he knows he is. There’s nothing to be scared about.
His thoughts are a constant loop of those reassurances, the words growing more frantic as a cold sweat begins to bead across the back of his neck. He can hear the audience chattering excitedly as they take their seats. His eyes begin to sting, and he wonders if he’s about to cry, but then he realizes that the burning is due to the fact that his eyes have gone wide and unblinking. With a great effort, he forces his eyelids to open and close several times.
He tries to breathe.
“I know that look, and don’t you dare,” Rachel scolds, sliding up next to him backstage and clutching his nearest bicep tightly. “I’m not going to let your nerves ruin this for you. Yes, this night will make or break your entire Broadway career, but-”
“Oh god, Rachel, so not helping,” he croaks, reaching up to squeeze at the small hands gripping his arm.
“But you were meant for this,” she continues determinedly, ignoring his interruption and gripping him even harder. “You and me. This is our dream, Kurt. This is the goal we meticulously planned our lives around when we stayed up late creating color-coded New York Game Plan binders, and gluing our faces onto Wicked posters, and all of that other silly stuff we did when we could only imagine having this someday. You can’t let down our seventeen-year-old selves.”
He nods a bit frantically and lets a lungful of air whoosh out of him. “I know. You’re right.”
She lets go of his bicep and steps in front of him. “Of course I am,” she says fiercely, wrapping her petite arms around his lean torso and nuzzling her face into his broad chest. “And you’re gonna be amazing.”
“You better not be getting makeup on my costume,” he mutters, but he hugs her back, encircling her shoulders and resting his cheek against the top of her head.
His breathing comes easier after that.
*****
On stage, he doesn’t miss a beat, but his skin begins to prickle unpleasantly as his big peppy solo number draws nearer. He glances into the dim wings of the stage and spots Rachel, bouncing on her heels and smiling somewhat maniacally, pushing up at the corners of her mouth with her pointer fingers, silently urging him to put on his show face.
He steps forward on cue, grinning uncontrollably, and launches into the peppiest damn solo he has ever performed.
*****
The next day they sit together on the floor of their apartment, surrounded by newspapers and scissors and picture frames and the glittering contents of his craft box. They carefully cut out every mention of Kurt. The majority of his reviews are glowing, and most critics agree that his unique talent and boyish charisma outshone all of the lead actors. Only one review is slightly negative, arguing that the way Kurt pulls focus is shameful even if it is unintentional, but they both laugh so hard at it that they end up adding it to all the good clippings in their bedazzled collages.
When they finish, they hang them up on their Wall of Accolades, right next to all of Rachel’s reviews. Then they pull up a chair and sit down together with Rachel curled up on Kurt’s lap, staring at the wall in quiet awe.
“We both made it,” Rachel whispers.
He turns his head to the side and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, a silent declaration of: thank you, I love you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
She cuddles closer, and he knows she understands.
*****
Author: panbutnotpeter [tumblr]
Characters/Pairings: Hummelberry (Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel friendship)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~660
Notes: Just a super quick, unbeta'd drabble. Written for Day 1 of Hummelberry Week. The day's theme is Broadway.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Summary: Rachel supports Kurt through his first big Broadway role.
*****
Kurt doesn’t understand why he’s panicking like this. He’s performed in Broadway productions before. As merely a chorus member, but still. Just because this will be his first solo singing role, his first name credit role, doesn’t mean his jaw has any cause to be locking up with sudden terror. He’s spectacular, he knows he is. There’s nothing to be scared about.
His thoughts are a constant loop of those reassurances, the words growing more frantic as a cold sweat begins to bead across the back of his neck. He can hear the audience chattering excitedly as they take their seats. His eyes begin to sting, and he wonders if he’s about to cry, but then he realizes that the burning is due to the fact that his eyes have gone wide and unblinking. With a great effort, he forces his eyelids to open and close several times.
He tries to breathe.
“I know that look, and don’t you dare,” Rachel scolds, sliding up next to him backstage and clutching his nearest bicep tightly. “I’m not going to let your nerves ruin this for you. Yes, this night will make or break your entire Broadway career, but-”
“Oh god, Rachel, so not helping,” he croaks, reaching up to squeeze at the small hands gripping his arm.
“But you were meant for this,” she continues determinedly, ignoring his interruption and gripping him even harder. “You and me. This is our dream, Kurt. This is the goal we meticulously planned our lives around when we stayed up late creating color-coded New York Game Plan binders, and gluing our faces onto Wicked posters, and all of that other silly stuff we did when we could only imagine having this someday. You can’t let down our seventeen-year-old selves.”
He nods a bit frantically and lets a lungful of air whoosh out of him. “I know. You’re right.”
She lets go of his bicep and steps in front of him. “Of course I am,” she says fiercely, wrapping her petite arms around his lean torso and nuzzling her face into his broad chest. “And you’re gonna be amazing.”
“You better not be getting makeup on my costume,” he mutters, but he hugs her back, encircling her shoulders and resting his cheek against the top of her head.
His breathing comes easier after that.
*****
On stage, he doesn’t miss a beat, but his skin begins to prickle unpleasantly as his big peppy solo number draws nearer. He glances into the dim wings of the stage and spots Rachel, bouncing on her heels and smiling somewhat maniacally, pushing up at the corners of her mouth with her pointer fingers, silently urging him to put on his show face.
He steps forward on cue, grinning uncontrollably, and launches into the peppiest damn solo he has ever performed.
*****
The next day they sit together on the floor of their apartment, surrounded by newspapers and scissors and picture frames and the glittering contents of his craft box. They carefully cut out every mention of Kurt. The majority of his reviews are glowing, and most critics agree that his unique talent and boyish charisma outshone all of the lead actors. Only one review is slightly negative, arguing that the way Kurt pulls focus is shameful even if it is unintentional, but they both laugh so hard at it that they end up adding it to all the good clippings in their bedazzled collages.
When they finish, they hang them up on their Wall of Accolades, right next to all of Rachel’s reviews. Then they pull up a chair and sit down together with Rachel curled up on Kurt’s lap, staring at the wall in quiet awe.
“We both made it,” Rachel whispers.
He turns his head to the side and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, a silent declaration of: thank you, I love you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
She cuddles closer, and he knows she understands.
*****