Fic: The Epic True Impending Love Story of Fishlips and Ladyface (Part Forty)
In Which Baby is Not Cold Outside
Sam stared at the first place trophy in awe. He still couldn’t believe they had won. The Hipsters had performed a moving rendition of the Living Years while the girls from the Jane Adams School had produced some hip gyrating number. He wasn’t able to actually catch the singing, being too distracted by the hair flying and trust him, there had been a lot of it. When their name had been announced as the winners, he might have yelled “YES” loud enough for the rest of the team to turn to him as if he was crazy, but he wasn’t telling.
“All right guys! We have Sectionals won and out of the way!” The club cheered at Schue’s statement. “But Regionals is still coming up in April! We need to be well prepared if we want to beat Vocal Adrenaline and make it to Nationals, but I think we can do it. I know we can do it!”
He quieted down the club before starting again. “Now we all know the holidays are around the corner.” Sam rolled his eyes. Around the corner, indeed. Christmas break was looming at the end of the week. “And what better way to get us into the Christmas spirit than with a Christmas song? Take it away, Blaine and Kurt!” Sam’s head shot up as he announced the names. Not again. He glanced at Quinn and Puck who were staring back at him with alarm.
Kurt and Blaine made their way to the front of the room, Kurt coyly perching himself on a chair. Right away, Sam knew this wasn’t going to be fun to watch. The band began to play and he shut his eyes. Not this song. He most certainly recognized it from past Warbler Christmas concerts. It was one of Blaine’s favorites, usually sung with a guy that he had his eye on.
I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside
He groaned in frustration. He knew the pattern: Blaine would take up the part of the pursuer typically chasing the other boy around the stage playfully, begging him to stay until reaching the end where he would lean in for a kiss. And if the rumors were true, typically something more after the show was over. What the hell had he done to upset someone upstairs enough that they would do this to him?
The song was taking its typical fashion, Kurt strolling pointedly away from him and Blaine following like a love sick puppy with a strange glint in his eye. He knew that glint. This was not happening.
He whispered to Quinn, “I’m going to kill him.”
“Why?”
“I need a reason at this point?”
She shrugged. “For the jury, yes.”
“This is the song that Blaine uses to seduce guys.”
Quinn turned to him slightly, eyebrows raised. “And you think that-“
“I know that he will. They do anything he says after they sing this song.”
“Oh no.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He turned back to the front, watching Blaine seduce the boy that he loved. What was fair about that? He had seen Kurt first, gotten close to Kurt first. Really this was his own fault for making up that stupid story about Billy in the first place. He could hardly bring himself to imagine what would be happening now if he hadn’t. Would he and Kurt be cuddled up beside each other, trading short pecks when they thought no one was looking? Would he still be conflicted about his feelings? He seethed as his thought process continued. One thing was for certain though: he wouldn’t have had to live through this performance.
I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move closer
At least I'm gonna say-
“HE SAID NO!” The entire club turned to Sam in shock. His eyes doubled in size. What had he just said? “Um…I mean…that in the song…yeah.”
Blaine looked slightly irritated while Kurt simply seemed concerned. “Sam, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Not. He pasted a grin hoping to sell it.
Kurt shook his head. “I don’t think so. C’mon. We’re going to go talk.”
Blaine began protesting, but Kurt silenced him with quiet murmurs. He sighed, but allowed Kurt to go. He traipsed to the door of Schue’s office and turned back expectantly. “Sam? C’mon.”
Quinn patted his back as he stood up and steeled himself for this. He was probably about to get yelled at for ruining the duet. But his reasoning was good. In a way. In a completely jealous sort of way, but it was there. “Good luck, Evans.”
“Thanks, Puck. I’ll need it.” He traveled slowly to the door where Kurt waited expectantly, feeling like a man condemned. May God or whoever else was out there have mercy on his soul.