From The Start [5/?]
Title: From The Start 05
Genre: Drama/romance/LGBT study
Ratings/Warnings: T
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt-centric; ensemble / Kurtofsky (main), Brittanna, Davetana friendship, etc.
Summary: Relationships are messy and teenagers are confusing. Kurt tries to make sense of all of this, but maybe it's better if it doesn't make sense. (Vague summary subject to change as I get more planned.)
Other:
-Spoilers up to “Original Song,” and some of what has been confirmed/rumored about future episodes.
Chapter notes: I’m really not fully satisfied with this but it’s honestly not going to get any better and I feel like I’ve taken long enough with it. Remind me to never write a performance again (although, I will inevitably try to.)
Also, I am mean. Like, really mean. But it was just so damn funny that I couldn’t not add it. You’ll see what I mean.
“Seven-two-two-four-three-five?” Rachel stood up and Finn tossed her the box. “Uh… Jeez, Kurt, write more like a girl… Five-eight-seven-eight-four-eight?” Dave’s head snapped up and he caught the box one-handed, staring at it like it was going to hurt him. “Last one. One-two-three-four-five-six.” Puck grabbed the last box and Finn turned and called Kurt and Mercedes in.
Mr. Schue started cleaning up the sheet music he’d been looking over. “Okay. I guess… go change and get to class. Remember, jackets on all day. No one sees the shirts until the show.”
“Do we have to wear them all day?” Dave asked, inching very close to whining.
“Yes,” Mr. Schue answered. “The point of this lesson is to make our secrets tangible. We always have something to hide, and we’re always afraid of people finding them. But now you have to hide it physically, not just metaphorically.”
“But what if someone jumps us before the performance?” Puck asked. “They might try to get our jackets off and they’ll see our shirts.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would someone jump you just to see a shirt? Who even knows about this aside from us?”
“Guys! Not the point!” Mr. Schue put his hands up. “The point is, you’re all going to wear the shirts and you have about five minutes to get to class.”
000
The day went quite well, all things considered. Brittany nearly flashed her shirt when changing for P.E., but luckily Lauren was rushing out at the time and stopped her. At lunch, Rachel narrowly avoided getting her shirt ruined in a slushie shower by ducking behind a conveniently placed Principal Figgins. Sam had his jacket halfway off before the pothead in his Chemistry class pointed at the shirt and slurred out “Great band, maaaaaaaaan…”
It must have been some incredible stroke of good fortune that nothing worse had happened. Either that, or it was the calm before the storm.
The bell for the final period rang. The students were ushered into the theater minutes later by annoyed teachers unhappy with their loss of valuable class time. The half of New Directions that didn’t come in until the second verse took seats inconspicuously and pretended to have nothing to do with the assembly. Dave even sat way up near the back with the rest of the team, risking not making it to stage on time for the sake of keeping everyone in the dark about the performance.
Figgins came up to the microphone, making his usual incredibly awkward opening announcements.
“…And will Nicole Crowther please report to the main office? Your car has been… er… damaged.”
A familiar-looking girl walked out calmly, shouting, “Whatever! I didn’t even like that car anymore!”
“Now to introduce today’s speaker, our very own William Schuester.”
Mr. Schue took the mic and just stood there for several minutes until the entire theater went silent. He nodded, then began.
“Everyone close your eyes.” He waited a few moments before continuing. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever been told that something was wrong with you.” A few hands shot up, and, slowly, almost the entire student body raised their hands. “Open your eyes.” They did so, then looked around quickly. The hands slowly went down.
Mr. Shcue nodded again. “I don’t think I need to say anything more.” He left the stage, taking the microphone and stand with him.
Then the curtains went up.
Artie said the opening words, rolling across the stage before coming to a stop and opening his jacket to reveal Four Eyes. Mike, standing front-and-center, turned to face the crowd and unzipped his own jacket -- Can’t Sing -- and started his improvised dancing part. Kurt started unbuttoning his jacket and turned around, starting to sing. He pulled off the jacket while he walked down the stairs -- Likes Boys on his shirt, of course -- and tossed it to the side (the dry cleaners were definitely going to have some extra work to do this week).
Kurt ignored the loud laughter from the back of the theater at the line about putting makeup on, because, really, why should I even give a damn? Finn (Can’t Dance) and Brittany (I’m With Stoopid, with an arrow pointing up) came down the steps after him, and Puck, Sam, Lauren, and Tina (I’m With Stoopid and an arrow pointing down, Trouty Mouth, Bad Ass, and Brown Eyes) spun on the spot.
Mercedes (No My Weave!) and Santana (Sweet Lady Kisses, so that’s whose it was…) came up the side stairs just before the chorus started, tossing their jackets out to the audience. Mercedes sang the chorus, backed up by Santana.
Dave gripped the arms of his seat on the first “Don’t be a drag, just be a queen” and pushed himself up, switching on his microphone.
Azimio smacked his arm and said, “I’m with you, man, this is way too gay for me.” He started to get up, but stopped when a spotlight moved to Dave. “What the hell--?”
Dave sang without really thinking about it, walking up the center aisle towards the stage -- or, more specifically, towards Kurt. He didn’t see the shocked faces of his fellow students as he passed them, or Quinn and Rachel (Lucy Caboosey and Bossy & Nosy) in the right and left aisles.
He did notice that Kurt was on the wrong side of the stage, and his eyes found Santana on the opposite side. He knew instantly what it meant, and he couldn’t say he was surprised. There will be hell to pay if this goes badly, he thought, before jumping onstage just in time for Mercedes and Santana to jump back into the chorus.
He realized he was the only one with his jacket on, and nearly tripped -- no, no, no, no way am I going to take it off now, oh crap Kurt’s looking at me like he’s going to punch me what do I do --
He managed to catch his cue to run off into the wings before Artie started the next speaking part. Santana moved past Dave, smiling at him before going up to the top step while Artie wheeled off.
Kurt gave Dave a look from the opposite side of the stage -- don’t screw this up now -- and they moved in while Santana proclaimed acceptance from the highest point in the room.
Dave pulled off his jacket and shoved it into Finn’s arms, and walked out.
Don’t look at the crowd, don’t look at the crowd-- The mantra worked surprisingly well, given the practice he’d gotten from using it during hockey and football.
Their hands deliberately brushed as they passed each other. They meant it as a sort of I’m here; Dave promising he was ready to dance with Kurt, and Kurt promising to help him with the inevitable shitstorm that would follow. They turned to face each other and walked backwards. Kurt saw Rachel absolutely beaming and wondered if she had made sense of Dave’s shirt. He didn’t doubt it.
I’m on the right track--
Kurt started running.
--baby, I was born this way.
Dave picked him up at the waist, right on cue.
Kurt hadn’t really practiced this part -- Santana couldn’t lift him high enough, despite the formidable strength she’d gained from months at the bottom of the pyramid -- so he freaked out for a moment before landing like his ex-Cheerio reflexes told him to. He tried not to get caught up in the fact that Dave continued to lead him through the lifts and turns as if he weighed absolutely nothing, or that Dave was smiling and having fun with it and most certainly not angry and obviously not thinking about what ‘the guys’ would say. This proved difficult, except for when Dave tossed Kurt over his head, and Kurt’s mind went completely blank in a moment of terror. His brain restarted just in time for him to land (again, perfectly) and move seamlessly into the end of the dance.
They ended the number just as the Lady herself had ended it at the Grammys, raising their clawed hands into the air.
The applause was late by a single heartbeat, but tremendous once it started. Kurt beamed. He grabbed Santana’s still-raised hand once the curtains closed and pulled her into a hug. “We did it! We did it!”
Santana patted his back. “Let’s just hope the team decided to up and leave once Dave made it to the stage.”
Kurt’s heart sank. Oh yeah. The team. Crap.
000
Music:
-“Born This Way” by Lady GaGa
Genre: Drama/romance/LGBT study
Ratings/Warnings: T
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt-centric; ensemble / Kurtofsky (main), Brittanna, Davetana friendship, etc.
Summary: Relationships are messy and teenagers are confusing. Kurt tries to make sense of all of this, but maybe it's better if it doesn't make sense. (Vague summary subject to change as I get more planned.)
Other:
-Spoilers up to “Original Song,” and some of what has been confirmed/rumored about future episodes.
Chapter notes: I’m really not fully satisfied with this but it’s honestly not going to get any better and I feel like I’ve taken long enough with it. Remind me to never write a performance again (although, I will inevitably try to.)
Also, I am mean. Like, really mean. But it was just so damn funny that I couldn’t not add it. You’ll see what I mean.
“Seven-two-two-four-three-five?” Rachel stood up and Finn tossed her the box. “Uh… Jeez, Kurt, write more like a girl… Five-eight-seven-eight-four-eight?” Dave’s head snapped up and he caught the box one-handed, staring at it like it was going to hurt him. “Last one. One-two-three-four-five-six.” Puck grabbed the last box and Finn turned and called Kurt and Mercedes in.
Mr. Schue started cleaning up the sheet music he’d been looking over. “Okay. I guess… go change and get to class. Remember, jackets on all day. No one sees the shirts until the show.”
“Do we have to wear them all day?” Dave asked, inching very close to whining.
“Yes,” Mr. Schue answered. “The point of this lesson is to make our secrets tangible. We always have something to hide, and we’re always afraid of people finding them. But now you have to hide it physically, not just metaphorically.”
“But what if someone jumps us before the performance?” Puck asked. “They might try to get our jackets off and they’ll see our shirts.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would someone jump you just to see a shirt? Who even knows about this aside from us?”
“Guys! Not the point!” Mr. Schue put his hands up. “The point is, you’re all going to wear the shirts and you have about five minutes to get to class.”
000
The day went quite well, all things considered. Brittany nearly flashed her shirt when changing for P.E., but luckily Lauren was rushing out at the time and stopped her. At lunch, Rachel narrowly avoided getting her shirt ruined in a slushie shower by ducking behind a conveniently placed Principal Figgins. Sam had his jacket halfway off before the pothead in his Chemistry class pointed at the shirt and slurred out “Great band, maaaaaaaaan…”
It must have been some incredible stroke of good fortune that nothing worse had happened. Either that, or it was the calm before the storm.
The bell for the final period rang. The students were ushered into the theater minutes later by annoyed teachers unhappy with their loss of valuable class time. The half of New Directions that didn’t come in until the second verse took seats inconspicuously and pretended to have nothing to do with the assembly. Dave even sat way up near the back with the rest of the team, risking not making it to stage on time for the sake of keeping everyone in the dark about the performance.
Figgins came up to the microphone, making his usual incredibly awkward opening announcements.
“…And will Nicole Crowther please report to the main office? Your car has been… er… damaged.”
A familiar-looking girl walked out calmly, shouting, “Whatever! I didn’t even like that car anymore!”
“Now to introduce today’s speaker, our very own William Schuester.”
Mr. Schue took the mic and just stood there for several minutes until the entire theater went silent. He nodded, then began.
“Everyone close your eyes.” He waited a few moments before continuing. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever been told that something was wrong with you.” A few hands shot up, and, slowly, almost the entire student body raised their hands. “Open your eyes.” They did so, then looked around quickly. The hands slowly went down.
Mr. Shcue nodded again. “I don’t think I need to say anything more.” He left the stage, taking the microphone and stand with him.
Then the curtains went up.
Artie said the opening words, rolling across the stage before coming to a stop and opening his jacket to reveal Four Eyes. Mike, standing front-and-center, turned to face the crowd and unzipped his own jacket -- Can’t Sing -- and started his improvised dancing part. Kurt started unbuttoning his jacket and turned around, starting to sing. He pulled off the jacket while he walked down the stairs -- Likes Boys on his shirt, of course -- and tossed it to the side (the dry cleaners were definitely going to have some extra work to do this week).
Kurt ignored the loud laughter from the back of the theater at the line about putting makeup on, because, really, why should I even give a damn? Finn (Can’t Dance) and Brittany (I’m With Stoopid, with an arrow pointing up) came down the steps after him, and Puck, Sam, Lauren, and Tina (I’m With Stoopid and an arrow pointing down, Trouty Mouth, Bad Ass, and Brown Eyes) spun on the spot.
Mercedes (No My Weave!) and Santana (Sweet Lady Kisses, so that’s whose it was…) came up the side stairs just before the chorus started, tossing their jackets out to the audience. Mercedes sang the chorus, backed up by Santana.
Dave gripped the arms of his seat on the first “Don’t be a drag, just be a queen” and pushed himself up, switching on his microphone.
Azimio smacked his arm and said, “I’m with you, man, this is way too gay for me.” He started to get up, but stopped when a spotlight moved to Dave. “What the hell--?”
Dave sang without really thinking about it, walking up the center aisle towards the stage -- or, more specifically, towards Kurt. He didn’t see the shocked faces of his fellow students as he passed them, or Quinn and Rachel (Lucy Caboosey and Bossy & Nosy) in the right and left aisles.
He did notice that Kurt was on the wrong side of the stage, and his eyes found Santana on the opposite side. He knew instantly what it meant, and he couldn’t say he was surprised. There will be hell to pay if this goes badly, he thought, before jumping onstage just in time for Mercedes and Santana to jump back into the chorus.
He realized he was the only one with his jacket on, and nearly tripped -- no, no, no, no way am I going to take it off now, oh crap Kurt’s looking at me like he’s going to punch me what do I do --
He managed to catch his cue to run off into the wings before Artie started the next speaking part. Santana moved past Dave, smiling at him before going up to the top step while Artie wheeled off.
Kurt gave Dave a look from the opposite side of the stage -- don’t screw this up now -- and they moved in while Santana proclaimed acceptance from the highest point in the room.
Dave pulled off his jacket and shoved it into Finn’s arms, and walked out.
Don’t look at the crowd, don’t look at the crowd-- The mantra worked surprisingly well, given the practice he’d gotten from using it during hockey and football.
Their hands deliberately brushed as they passed each other. They meant it as a sort of I’m here; Dave promising he was ready to dance with Kurt, and Kurt promising to help him with the inevitable shitstorm that would follow. They turned to face each other and walked backwards. Kurt saw Rachel absolutely beaming and wondered if she had made sense of Dave’s shirt. He didn’t doubt it.
I’m on the right track--
Kurt started running.
--baby, I was born this way.
Dave picked him up at the waist, right on cue.
Kurt hadn’t really practiced this part -- Santana couldn’t lift him high enough, despite the formidable strength she’d gained from months at the bottom of the pyramid -- so he freaked out for a moment before landing like his ex-Cheerio reflexes told him to. He tried not to get caught up in the fact that Dave continued to lead him through the lifts and turns as if he weighed absolutely nothing, or that Dave was smiling and having fun with it and most certainly not angry and obviously not thinking about what ‘the guys’ would say. This proved difficult, except for when Dave tossed Kurt over his head, and Kurt’s mind went completely blank in a moment of terror. His brain restarted just in time for him to land (again, perfectly) and move seamlessly into the end of the dance.
They ended the number just as the Lady herself had ended it at the Grammys, raising their clawed hands into the air.
The applause was late by a single heartbeat, but tremendous once it started. Kurt beamed. He grabbed Santana’s still-raised hand once the curtains closed and pulled her into a hug. “We did it! We did it!”
Santana patted his back. “Let’s just hope the team decided to up and leave once Dave made it to the stage.”
Kurt’s heart sank. Oh yeah. The team. Crap.
000
Music:
-“Born This Way” by Lady GaGa