Fanfiction: Out of the Frying Pan (Glee)
Glee fanfiction! Unfortunately, as even the header contains spoilers for the episode 'Furt' (2.08) and I know there are people on my flist who haven't yet watched that, I've had to hide the header beneath the cut. All I can tell you here is that it's called Out of the Frying Pan, it's about 1,500 words long, it features Kurt and Blaine and it's a ridiculous crackfic. I cannot explain why I wrote this.
Title: Out of the Frying Pan
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine preslash
Wordcount: 1,500
Summary: Dalton is an amazing school. There's just one problem. Unfortunately, it's kind of a big one.
Warnings: This is ridiculous. (Now has a sequel!)
He misses his friends at McKinley, of course, but Kurt can’t deny that Dalton is amazing. Nobody shoves him into lockers; nobody throws slushies in his face. Fashion-wise, the uniform is extremely limiting, but at least it’s reasonably stylish; he’s not being forced to dress in heliotrope and puce every day. The food is good. The entire building is beautiful. And, of course, there’s Blaine.
Kurt can’t stop thinking that it all feels a little too perfect, too good to be true. Something has to be wrong with this place, and when he finds out what it is it’s only going to hurt more in contrast to all the beauty around it. Maybe Dalton’s the base of an underground drug ring. Maybe the Warblers have a ban on Broadway hits.
Something is wrong with this place, it turns out, but it’s not really any of the possibilities Kurt has considered.
-
Kurt’s first session as a Warbler doesn’t go exactly as planned, to say the least.
“Slight problem with the rehearsal,” Wes says, indicating the hall with a tilt of his head. “Dragon.”
Blaine gives an obviously exaggerated sigh. “You’re serious? Again?”
“We had three last week,” David says quietly to Kurt. It sounds like it’s supposed to be an explanation, but it doesn’t really explain anything at all.
“I’ll deal with it,” Blaine says. “Kurt, you want to back me up?”
The ‘dragon’ is probably a really intimidating teacher or something. Well, that’s fine; Kurt can provide backup for that. He’s not about to let Blaine down. Courage, he tells himself. “I will.”
Blaine grins blindingly at him and pushes open the door, and Kurt follows him through, feeling, incorrectly, that seeing that expression is probably enough to make up for whatever might be on the other side.
The dragon in question isn’t exactly difficult to miss, but it’s so incredibly weird that it takes Kurt’s brain a moment to register what his eyes are telling him. The moment it does, he stops dead.
“Oh, my God, that’s a dragon.”
“It is a dragon,” Blaine agrees. “You know, I thought you might have got that from Wes saying it was a dragon.”
It’s a dragon. It’s black and scaly and it has to duck its head to avoid brushing the high ceiling of the rehearsal hall (how did it even get in here?) and maybe it breathes fire and it definitely has claws and why is there a dragon in this school?
“Does this happen a lot at Dalton?” Kurt asks, faintly.
The dragon snarls and spreads its wings.
“Well,” Blaine says, “not, like, every day.”
Kurt sways on his feet. He thinks he might pass out. Blaine looks over at him and makes a dismayed sound.
“Are you telling me you didn’t even bring a sword?”
“You’ll have to forgive me; I didn’t realise it would be necessary.” It’s what Kurt means to say, at least, but his throat seems to be paralysed and it all comes out in a kind of garbled mess. Even more worrying is the fact that his legs don’t seem to be working properly either, and the dragon is looking extremely unfriendly.
“Look,” Blaine says. “You have bullies; we have dragons. You can’t tell me you thought your new school wasn’t going to have any problems.”
And then the dragon lunges and Kurt screams and there’s a clattering of metal and the next moment Kurt is crouched on the floor and staring up at Blaine, who stands over him, the blade of his sword (and where did that come from?) between the dragon’s teeth.
Part of Kurt thinks that in this moment, grim and determined and holding off a mythical monster, Blaine looks incredibly striking. The rest of him is mostly just hyperventilating.
“You might want to put one of those over your uniform,” Blaine says, nodding towards the corner of the room while simultaneously, and Kurt cannot mentally stress this enough, holding back a snarling dragon. With a sword. In its mouth. Blaine is gripping the handle of a sword inches away from a dragon’s teeth, and he is giving Kurt suggestions in the same tone in which he might say ‘hey, you should probably be holding onto the sides of the rollercoaster’. “There’s going to be a lot of blood.”
Kurt allows himself to take his eyes off the enraged dragon for a quarter of a second in order to glance in the direction indicated. There’s what looks like a pile of labcoats against the wall. While he doesn’t really want to get dragon blood (assuming Blaine is referring to the dragon’s blood; Kurt certainly hopes it’s not going to be Blaine’s or his own) on his new uniform, his legs are strongly opposed to performing their duties at the moment, and so he stays where he is.
“Well,” Blaine says, “if you’re sure. Do you think you’d be able to go around and stamp on its tail for me?”
So much no, Kurt is presently incapable of saying.
“Don’t worry about it,” Blaine says. He high-kicks the dragon’s neck, pulls his sword free when the dragon opens its mouth to roar and then drives the blade into the dragon’s throat.
-
Blaine has to physically support Kurt out of the room, where ‘physically support’ means ‘practically carry’. Had Kurt been left to his own devices, he’d probably have stayed in there for days, just staring at the enormous corpse. Actually, had Kurt been left to his own devices, he’d have been torn apart by the dragon before any corpse-staring became possible, but you know.
David raises his eyebrows when he sees them. “Always knew slaying a dragon together could be romantic.”
“He kind of freaked out,” Blaine says. “I think maybe we dropped him in at the deep end. I don’t think there were any dragons at his old school.”
There is a moment’s silence.
“Seriously?” David asks.
“And you took him in there?” Wes asks. “On his own? You were so blasé about asking him to be your backup, we just assumed he’d done this before.”
“You should have let us go in with you, man,” David says.
“I know,” Blaine says. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” He’s looking at Wes and David as he says it, but he tightens his hold on Kurt’s side, so Kurt thinks maybe the apology is directed at him as well. And that’s something, although it’s not nearly enough to make up for what he just had to live through in there.
“You okay, Kurt?” Wes asks, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.
Kurt still feels incapable of speaking, but he gives Wes a look that he hopes will convey his sincere combination of gratitude for the concern and incredulity at the fact that nobody told him about the dragons, seriously, how is that not the sort of thing that people mention?
“I’ll call the cleaners in to deal with it,” David says.
“Thanks,” Blaine says. “C’mon, Kurt; it looks like you need something to eat.”
-
Some of the boys make sympathetic faces at Blaine and Kurt as they walk through the hallways, arms around each other, covered in drying dragon blood. Not a single one of them looks remotely taken aback. Apparently, this really is a relatively common occurrence at Dalton. ‘Relative’ here, of course, meaning ‘relative to the rest of the world’, where, Kurt is fairly certain, people never have to slay dragons that are getting in the way of an acapella rehearsal.
They reach the dining hall, and Blaine, on an unspoken agreement, buys Kurt approximately all the food in there. Halfway through his second helping of potatoes, Kurt feels he’s finally regained enough mental and physical strength to speak.
“I can’t believe you didn’t mention this before.”
“Mention what?”
Kurt stares at him. “Blaine, are you actually asking? Are you telling me you honestly can’t think of anything I might have wanted to know before I came here?”
“Oh, that,” Blaine says. “Yeah, sorry for not telling you. I guess it kind of slipped my mind.”
“It slipped your mind?”
“I didn’t realise it was that big a deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Kurt hadn’t even realised that his own voice could go that high. If Blaine says one more ridiculous thing, it’ll be in serious danger of leaving the stratosphere entirely. “I told you I was being bullied. You said this was a great place to get away from that.”
“And it is! That’s not a problem here. At all.”
“You have dragons here, Blaine. Dragons. You have flying monsters that are trying to kill you. And you suggested that I come here to get away from bullying?”
“Dragons aren’t prejudiced,” Blaine says, as if it should be obvious. “It doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight; they’re going to try and eat you just the same. We’re all on a level playing field here.”
Kurt stares at him. In some insane way, it almost makes sense.
“So,” Blaine says, folding his arms on the table, “what do you say I give you some swordsmanship lessons?”
Title: Out of the Frying Pan
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine preslash
Wordcount: 1,500
Summary: Dalton is an amazing school. There's just one problem. Unfortunately, it's kind of a big one.
Warnings: This is ridiculous. (Now has a sequel!)
He misses his friends at McKinley, of course, but Kurt can’t deny that Dalton is amazing. Nobody shoves him into lockers; nobody throws slushies in his face. Fashion-wise, the uniform is extremely limiting, but at least it’s reasonably stylish; he’s not being forced to dress in heliotrope and puce every day. The food is good. The entire building is beautiful. And, of course, there’s Blaine.
Kurt can’t stop thinking that it all feels a little too perfect, too good to be true. Something has to be wrong with this place, and when he finds out what it is it’s only going to hurt more in contrast to all the beauty around it. Maybe Dalton’s the base of an underground drug ring. Maybe the Warblers have a ban on Broadway hits.
Something is wrong with this place, it turns out, but it’s not really any of the possibilities Kurt has considered.
-
Kurt’s first session as a Warbler doesn’t go exactly as planned, to say the least.
“Slight problem with the rehearsal,” Wes says, indicating the hall with a tilt of his head. “Dragon.”
Blaine gives an obviously exaggerated sigh. “You’re serious? Again?”
“We had three last week,” David says quietly to Kurt. It sounds like it’s supposed to be an explanation, but it doesn’t really explain anything at all.
“I’ll deal with it,” Blaine says. “Kurt, you want to back me up?”
The ‘dragon’ is probably a really intimidating teacher or something. Well, that’s fine; Kurt can provide backup for that. He’s not about to let Blaine down. Courage, he tells himself. “I will.”
Blaine grins blindingly at him and pushes open the door, and Kurt follows him through, feeling, incorrectly, that seeing that expression is probably enough to make up for whatever might be on the other side.
The dragon in question isn’t exactly difficult to miss, but it’s so incredibly weird that it takes Kurt’s brain a moment to register what his eyes are telling him. The moment it does, he stops dead.
“Oh, my God, that’s a dragon.”
“It is a dragon,” Blaine agrees. “You know, I thought you might have got that from Wes saying it was a dragon.”
It’s a dragon. It’s black and scaly and it has to duck its head to avoid brushing the high ceiling of the rehearsal hall (how did it even get in here?) and maybe it breathes fire and it definitely has claws and why is there a dragon in this school?
“Does this happen a lot at Dalton?” Kurt asks, faintly.
The dragon snarls and spreads its wings.
“Well,” Blaine says, “not, like, every day.”
Kurt sways on his feet. He thinks he might pass out. Blaine looks over at him and makes a dismayed sound.
“Are you telling me you didn’t even bring a sword?”
“You’ll have to forgive me; I didn’t realise it would be necessary.” It’s what Kurt means to say, at least, but his throat seems to be paralysed and it all comes out in a kind of garbled mess. Even more worrying is the fact that his legs don’t seem to be working properly either, and the dragon is looking extremely unfriendly.
“Look,” Blaine says. “You have bullies; we have dragons. You can’t tell me you thought your new school wasn’t going to have any problems.”
And then the dragon lunges and Kurt screams and there’s a clattering of metal and the next moment Kurt is crouched on the floor and staring up at Blaine, who stands over him, the blade of his sword (and where did that come from?) between the dragon’s teeth.
Part of Kurt thinks that in this moment, grim and determined and holding off a mythical monster, Blaine looks incredibly striking. The rest of him is mostly just hyperventilating.
“You might want to put one of those over your uniform,” Blaine says, nodding towards the corner of the room while simultaneously, and Kurt cannot mentally stress this enough, holding back a snarling dragon. With a sword. In its mouth. Blaine is gripping the handle of a sword inches away from a dragon’s teeth, and he is giving Kurt suggestions in the same tone in which he might say ‘hey, you should probably be holding onto the sides of the rollercoaster’. “There’s going to be a lot of blood.”
Kurt allows himself to take his eyes off the enraged dragon for a quarter of a second in order to glance in the direction indicated. There’s what looks like a pile of labcoats against the wall. While he doesn’t really want to get dragon blood (assuming Blaine is referring to the dragon’s blood; Kurt certainly hopes it’s not going to be Blaine’s or his own) on his new uniform, his legs are strongly opposed to performing their duties at the moment, and so he stays where he is.
“Well,” Blaine says, “if you’re sure. Do you think you’d be able to go around and stamp on its tail for me?”
So much no, Kurt is presently incapable of saying.
“Don’t worry about it,” Blaine says. He high-kicks the dragon’s neck, pulls his sword free when the dragon opens its mouth to roar and then drives the blade into the dragon’s throat.
-
Blaine has to physically support Kurt out of the room, where ‘physically support’ means ‘practically carry’. Had Kurt been left to his own devices, he’d probably have stayed in there for days, just staring at the enormous corpse. Actually, had Kurt been left to his own devices, he’d have been torn apart by the dragon before any corpse-staring became possible, but you know.
David raises his eyebrows when he sees them. “Always knew slaying a dragon together could be romantic.”
“He kind of freaked out,” Blaine says. “I think maybe we dropped him in at the deep end. I don’t think there were any dragons at his old school.”
There is a moment’s silence.
“Seriously?” David asks.
“And you took him in there?” Wes asks. “On his own? You were so blasé about asking him to be your backup, we just assumed he’d done this before.”
“You should have let us go in with you, man,” David says.
“I know,” Blaine says. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” He’s looking at Wes and David as he says it, but he tightens his hold on Kurt’s side, so Kurt thinks maybe the apology is directed at him as well. And that’s something, although it’s not nearly enough to make up for what he just had to live through in there.
“You okay, Kurt?” Wes asks, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.
Kurt still feels incapable of speaking, but he gives Wes a look that he hopes will convey his sincere combination of gratitude for the concern and incredulity at the fact that nobody told him about the dragons, seriously, how is that not the sort of thing that people mention?
“I’ll call the cleaners in to deal with it,” David says.
“Thanks,” Blaine says. “C’mon, Kurt; it looks like you need something to eat.”
-
Some of the boys make sympathetic faces at Blaine and Kurt as they walk through the hallways, arms around each other, covered in drying dragon blood. Not a single one of them looks remotely taken aback. Apparently, this really is a relatively common occurrence at Dalton. ‘Relative’ here, of course, meaning ‘relative to the rest of the world’, where, Kurt is fairly certain, people never have to slay dragons that are getting in the way of an acapella rehearsal.
They reach the dining hall, and Blaine, on an unspoken agreement, buys Kurt approximately all the food in there. Halfway through his second helping of potatoes, Kurt feels he’s finally regained enough mental and physical strength to speak.
“I can’t believe you didn’t mention this before.”
“Mention what?”
Kurt stares at him. “Blaine, are you actually asking? Are you telling me you honestly can’t think of anything I might have wanted to know before I came here?”
“Oh, that,” Blaine says. “Yeah, sorry for not telling you. I guess it kind of slipped my mind.”
“It slipped your mind?”
“I didn’t realise it was that big a deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Kurt hadn’t even realised that his own voice could go that high. If Blaine says one more ridiculous thing, it’ll be in serious danger of leaving the stratosphere entirely. “I told you I was being bullied. You said this was a great place to get away from that.”
“And it is! That’s not a problem here. At all.”
“You have dragons here, Blaine. Dragons. You have flying monsters that are trying to kill you. And you suggested that I come here to get away from bullying?”
“Dragons aren’t prejudiced,” Blaine says, as if it should be obvious. “It doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight; they’re going to try and eat you just the same. We’re all on a level playing field here.”
Kurt stares at him. In some insane way, it almost makes sense.
“So,” Blaine says, folding his arms on the table, “what do you say I give you some swordsmanship lessons?”