From the Desk of The Fourth Writer...
Title: From the Desk of The Fourth Writer...
Fandom: Glee
Written: December, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Words: 13,500 [total]
Summary: Jesse St. James was at Sectionals. He overheard Rachel's song for Finn in the auditorium. Blaine plotted with Wes and David to sing with Kurt. Blaine's a dork who fails at confessing his feelings. Mr. Schuester did have a reason to be at Dalton, I promise. Jesse's kind of a stalker, but with good intentions. Also, Christmas spirit. He and Kurt like bearing gifts. Puck and Quinn remember their daughter's first Christmas. And Blaine is still a complete dork who doesn't fail at confessing his feelings. tl;dr: A complete re-write of 2x10.
Notes: SPOILERS for episodes 2x09 and 2x10. No, really.
Posted in two parts.
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Jesse would never admit it, but he’s been facebook stalking Rachel Berry - and, by extension, the rest of New Directions - since last year’s Regionals. He can't help that he was curious to see how they’re doing and more than a little concerned for Rachel’s well being. He saw first hand how she dealt with rejection, and now that he had some sense knocked into him from college, he’s realized just how much he cares about her.
So he decided to show how much he cares by facebook creeping.
At first he just checked her wall at almost alarmingly regular and frequent intervals. He would watch the occasional videos she still posted of herself singing Broadway showstoppers and pop tunes. He would gag over her and Finn’s wall-to-wall posts. He would smile whenever one of her status updates mentioned glee club and just how happy she was.
Then he worked up the courage to ‘like’ one of her videos. It was her singing What I did for Love from A Chorus Line, and the emotion in her voice was so poignant it was almost painful. He waited an hour before actually commenting on it, saying a simple, ‘Nice work,’ even though he wanted to rave about her range and her grasp on the meaning of the song and how perfectly her inflections mirrored the imagery the song presented.
And he didn’t spend the next week re-watching it obsessively and waiting for some indication that she had seen his comment.
Well, he hadn’t been de-friended, at any rate.
He tried commenting on her status next. Rachel Berry needs suggestions for what song to sing for her next video. Finn had posted that she should sing something from a Disney movie. Jesse (who wasn’t at all trying to one-up Finn, so stop looking at him like that) posted, ‘Try looking up something by Jason Robert Brown or Kerrigan & Lowdermilk. They all have an uncanny knack for putting real life into lyrics.’
He had not under any circumstances walked around grinning for the next week because she had taken him up on that suggestion, posting a rather heartbreaking rendition of Not a Love Story that he immediately ‘liked.’
From there, their online relationship had blossomed. Rachel posted videos and he commented on them. She asked about college and he told her all about the student production of Zanna Don’t! he had somehow landed the lead in. (Kurt had butted in on that one, asking Jesse how on earth he managed to play a gay stereotype and not doubt his own masculinity, to which Jesse had replied with, ‘I’m a theatre kid. We’re all gay until proven straight anyway.’) Their relationship progressed until they were actually using facebook chat rather than wall-to-wall posts, leading up to the point where he told her good night daily for almost a week.
It was like having an online, long-distance girlfriend, except that his profile still said ‘single’ while hers said ‘in a relationship with Finn Hudson.’
Except one day Rachel’s profile suddenly said ‘in a relationship.’ Jesse had immediately gone to Finn’s page, noticing that he had hidden his relationship status. He scoured both their walls, not seeing any sympathetic posts from concerned friends or anything to indicate the start of a new relationship for one of them.
He kept his facebook window open all night, constantly checking it and noticing a post on Finn’s wall from Santana (Now that Man Hands is out of the picture, want to go back to that motel?) before it was deleted minutes later.
Oh.
He had to restrain himself from posting a very long, drawn-out, and lyrical rant on Finn’s wall about treating women with respect and not going behind someone’s back. Then he realized that, coming from him, that would seem a tad hypocritical. Besides, he didn’t know the whole story. He wasn’t about to make a facebook ass of himself just because he was upset on Rachel’s behalf.
Besides, he was coming back to Ohio for Thanksgiving break. He counted himself lucky that New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline were both competing in their Sectionals competitions on different days, so he could go watch both.
He had planned his post on Rachel’s wall for weeks. Guess who’s coming back to Ohio! You’ll find me front row center at Sectionals watching you lead your club to victory with a smile on my face and a bouquet of flowers waiting for you in my arms. He almost posted it, too, but there was something about her unchanged relationship status that stopped him.
No. He wasn’t going to push. He was going to be respectful. He was going to support both of his old clubs, all of his old teammates. He didn’t have to be the center of attention anymore - his constant casting as ‘swing/ensemble’ after Zanna Don’t! had done wonders for the size of his head - and besides, this was Rachel’s turn to shine. He was going to let her shine all the brighter because he wasn’t going to do anything to take attention away from her.
He ended up sitting near the back, watching in horror as the curtain opened on the Dalton Warblers and he recognized Kurt on their lead singer’s left side.
Clearly his facebook creeping skills needed some help if he hadn’t known about this. Transferring schools was a big deal, much bigger than he had made it out to be. His parents had all but bribed Figgins to let him into McKinley, egged on by Shelby’s promise to pay for half his college tuition if he did that for her. He wondered why Kurt had left McKinley, deciding to send the boy a lengthy message via facebook after the competition. They were good enough friends to warrant curiosity, weren’t they?
But Jesse would re-evaluate his and Kurt’s friendship status later, because he was more concerned with how the boy looked onstage. He looked uncomfortable and nervous, not at all like himself. The Warbler’s lead singer was selling it like nobody’s business, but nothing could hide the fact that at some points, Kurt was a full step off his choreography.
Jesse clapped politely anyway. The Warblers were very good, even he had to admit. He even let a, “Yeah Kurt!” escape his lips, attracting the attention of those in his immediate vicinity. The woman sitting next to him raised her eyebrow at him, so he mirrored her expression, not missing the muttered, “Homo,” she said to her lap.
Gay until proven straight, even here, apparently, Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle.
And then it was New Directions’ turn. Jesse turned in his seat expectantly, watching the rear of the auditorium. If he knew the club like he thought he did, Rachel or Finn would come bursting through those doors any minute. A couple people in the seats around him turned as well, most likely out of curiosity.
He didn’t know the boy who was singing and walking down the aisle, but he recognized Quinn. Jesse’s nose wrinkled, not in disgust, but confusion. This song really did not suit Quinn’s voice at all. He couldn’t imagine why they had chosen Quinn over Rachel for this particular song. Admittedly Sam’s voice was more pleasing to the ear than Finn’s, but the boy’s nerves were on display for all to see. Jesse watched the pair walk down their aisles, singing in each other’s faces once they met onstage.
Once the rest of the club entered, Jesse had eyes only for Rachel.
She looked unhappy. He kept blinking hard, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no, Rachel definitely did not look happy. Her usual confident stage persona was gone, replaced by an insecure sixteen year old who wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.
Come on, Rachel, he found himself coaching her in his head. Chin up. You can do this. I know you can. Come on.
Regardless of what was the cause, Rachel looked much more confident come the second song. Which, strangely enough, she did not have the lead for. Jesse was shaking his head, for while Santana’s voice was suited for this song, it made no sense for New Directions to pick Quinn and Santana over Rachel. Rachel was their best singer and she always had been, so why were they choosing now to put her voice on the backburner?
He didn’t get a chance to ask.
Once the Warblers and New Directions had tied, things had gotten chaotic. The woman sitting next to him turned out to be the daughter of one of the Hipsters, so she had gotten all fired up about them losing. When Jesse had tried to squeeze past her to head for the exit, she had rounded on him, asking why his boyfriend should be allowed to go to Regionals when he had his whole life in front of him to achieve something. His reaction - loud, obnoxious, snorting laughter - hadn’t helped matters.
By the time he had finally freed himself from her ranting, New Directions had all boarded their bus and were at the far end of the parking lot, turn signal blinking as they headed back to Lima. Jesse shrugged a shoulder and kicked a stone, listening to it clatter on the concrete.
“Jesse?”
He turned, a smile breaking across his face when he recognized Kurt. He was standing with the rest of the Warblers, all of whom were standing on the sidewalk close to the curb, no doubt waiting for their own bus.
“Hi, Kurt,” he stepped over to the group of boys, feeling out of place next to their matching blazers. “You were all wonderful in there.” He didn’t mention how Kurt had looked like he was going to shit his pants.
“Thanks,” Kurt smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jesse was instantly curious, but he quashed the desire to ask by chuckling and telling Kurt all about the angry daughter of one of the Hipsters, including the comment she had made about them being boyfriends.
“I’m so sorry,” Kurt looked positively mortified, which hadn’t been what Jesse had been going for at all. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing. I’m sorry, Jesse.”
“Nah,” Jesse waved this away, echoing his previous thought. “I’m a musical theatre major. We’re all gay until proven straight anyway.” That earned him a light chuckle.
One of the boys standing with his back to Kurt turned, no doubt wanting in on the joke. Jesse recognized him as the Warblers’ lead singer, so he stuck out a hand, saying, “Great job.”
“Thanks,” the boy was looking at him with an expression halfway between remembrance and confusion. “I’m Blaine. You’re from Vocal Adrenaline, right?”
“Was,” Jesse corrected him, giving Blaine’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “Jesse St. James. I’m at UCLA now. Musical theatre major.”
“That’s right, you’re the guy who stomped us last year at Sectionals,” Blaine’s voice was light and it didn’t sound like he held a grudge.
“We tend to do that,” Jesse couldn’t help the smirk that broke across his face. “I’m sure they’ll kick both your asses once Regionals come around.”
“Both?” Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed.
“You,” Jesse gestured to Blaine, “and New Directions,” he gestured towards Kurt. “Oh, wait,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Nevermind. I keep forgetting you’re not at McKinley anymore.”
“I’m a Warbler now,” Kurt shrugged one shoulder, “with Blaine.” This time the smile did meet his eyes.
“What made you change schools?” Jesse asked, figuring now was as good a time as any, but right then a charter bus pulled up and a slender Asian boy called out, “Okay, Warblers, this is us!”
“It was nice meeting you. Officially,” Blaine gave Jesse’s arm a little pat before turning to board the bus. Kurt, however, lingered back.
“Bullying,” he tried to sound offhand, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It just got to be too much, and Dalton has a no tolerance policy. So I switched and here I am.” His eyes seemed to sparkle, and Jesse suspected that had nothing to do with Dalton and everything to do with the shorter boy with slicked back hair who was now boarding the bus.
“I’m sorry to hear that. About the bullying, I mean. I’m sorry it reached that point. But I’m glad you’re happy.” He put a hand on Kurt’s arm, steering him over to the bus, where the line of waiting-to-board Warblers was dwindling. “Listen, I’ll be in for the holiday if you want to catch up at all. I know we were never really close, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone removed from the situation to talk to. Especially when that someone is a musical theatre major at UCLA, meaning he’s been on the receiving end of quite a few gay jokes. I never really understood just how hard you had it, but now I think I have an idea.”
Kurt’s eyes were sparkling for an entire different reason now.
“Too much?” Jesse asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“You’re supposed to be a dick who’s bent on crushing all our hopes and dreams with your band of soulless robots,” Kurt reminded him. “Who are you and what have you done with Jesse St. James?”
“I’m Jesse two-point-oh,” he grinned. “The one that got his ass handed to him courtesy of his college friends who weren’t willing to put up with his crap. I’m really nice now.” He nodded enthusiastically, then gave Kurt a little pat on the back and a nudge towards the bus. “Now get going back to gay Hogwarts.”
He walked away before Kurt could ask where the hell he had come up with that name.
When his phone buzzed five minutes later, announcing that he had a text from Kurt, he smiled, pleased that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t done a mass purging of phone numbers after the whole ND vs VA showdown last year.
Gay Hogwarts? Really, Jesse?
He laughed, texting back, Have you seen those uniforms? Please. Totally gay Hogwarts.
So maybe he hadn’t accomplished his goal of meeting up with Rachel and rekindling a friendship, at least, but he had successfully gotten himself on good terms with Kurt. He would say speaking terms, except that it was more like texting terms, if anything else.
Small victories.
And those were the ones that mattered in the end, anyway. Besides, it was thanks to Kurt that he was filled in on all the Finn and Rachel drama. Admittedly Kurt had heard the story from Mercedes rather than watching the whole thing unfold, but that was better than nothing. Now he actually could rationalize his desire to punch Finn’s face in, seeing how he had been the one to break things off.
He went back to California after Thanksgiving feeling only a little bit miserable that he hadn’t been able to meet up with Rachel.
But maybe that was for the best. What kind of guy would that make him if he swooped in right after a big breakup, trying to make things better? Even if his intentions were admirable and he was perfectly content to have nothing more than friendship, that would probably do more harm than good.
He went back to obsessively facebook stalking Rachel between classes and studying for finals and rehearsals for the winter show. They were doing a musical adaptation of A Christmas Carol, and he had amused both Kurt and Blaine one night after rehearsals by sending Kurt a picture of himself in costume as the ghost of Jacob Marley with the caption, “Do I get a prize for worst dressed?” Kurt had replied with a picture of himself and Blaine, their faces twisted with disgust.
It was an interesting friendship, the relationship between the three of them. Jesse genuinely liked both of them, but he knew that both had their own preconceived notions of him. To Blaine, he was the guy that beat them at Sectionals. To Kurt, he was the guy that broke Rachel’s heart and beat them at Regionals. And somehow, he had managed to convince both of them that he really was being genuine.
It was probably the gay Hogwarts joke.
He’d have to call up Danny and thank him for that one. Danny had come to Carmel after going to Dalton for two years, telling anyone who would listen about how the school looked like a castle and how the uniforms were like something out of a Harry Potter movie and how, at Christmastime, mistletoe lined the hallways and everyone was sucking face with everyone else, regardless of the gender of their preferred sexual partner.
Totally gay Hogwarts.
He kept contact with the two even though finals week kept him busier than he had ever been in his life. It felt like he had slept on a Sunday, woken up on Monday, spent five whole days awake and cramming for his tests and drinking endless cups of coffee, and then suddenly it was Friday and his first semester at college was over. That was definitely going to take some getting used to.
He slept the entire flight home, and then had passed out on his bed for at least two days after that. His parents had called a doctor and everything. But he’d just laughed, shrugging it away and telling them that college is hard and that he’ll be a pro at finals week in no time.
And then he’d driven out to McKinley to find Rachel.
Okay, in retrospect, not one of his better plans. It was really, really stupid of him to come to the school unannounced, but it’s not like there were men guarding the doors so he couldn’t get in. All he had to do was circle the school once looking for a cracked door and slip inside. Easy.
But coming unannounced meant he had absolutely no idea where everyone would be. He tried the choir room first, assuming that the glee club would be there rehearsing, but no such luck. Then he tried the auditorium and he had to give himself a high-five. The stage was decorated with artificial Christmas trees, all blue in color, lit with white lights with ornaments dangling off their branches artfully. It was beautiful, and Jesse felt his smile soften as he slipped into one of the seats at the back of the auditorium, hoping to get an explanation for the décor before he revealed himself.
He didn’t have to wait long. A few members of the band came onstage, Rachel following closely at their heels, pointing to where they were to situate themselves. Jesse’s heartbeat picked up at the sight of her, causing him to breathe a little shallower than was normal. It would have been mortifying if anyone had actually seen him.
Rachel looked beautiful, perfect from every angle, even at this distance. She looked even smaller, if that were possible, hair curled and shorter than he remembered. She wore a simple dress that framed her form and a red beret in her hair, no doubt pinned back and in place. She fit in with the Christmas trees and looked so at home on the stage that Jesse thought that maybe sitting here and watching her from the shadows would make up for the lackluster performance at Sectionals.
“Now remember, it has to be lush and romantic,” Rachel told the nearest band member. Jesse straightened in his seat, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out why Rachel was requesting such a song.
“Why?” Fin weaved his way through the trees, his height magnified by the way he was taller than all the little trees. Jesse almost laughed; their height difference certainly was comical enough.
“Because I’m very specific when I give a gift,” Rachel explained, turning to Finn and muttering something about kittens. Jesse could tell she was nervous from the way she clasped her hands behind her back and the insecurity and plea for approval that was in her voice when she asked, “Do you like my winter wonderland?”
“I don’t really like artificial Christmas trees. I like real ones,” Finn started, and Jesse almost jumped up from where he sat to yell at the other boy. Didn’t he realize what she was doing for him? Rachel didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here she had decked out the entire stage with trees just for him. And he had the nerve to complain that they weren’t real. Jesse’s hands clenched on the seat in front of him, gripping it so tightly it started to hurt, leaning forward and cringing as Finn continued to make excuses.
And now Rachel was giving the clueless boy a gift. The little box had an intricate bow on it, too, matching the hue of the Christmas trees. Rachel had clearly spent a lot of time planning this, color coordinating the entire thing while trying to ensure that it was something Finn would enjoy.
“The bearer of this note,” Finn began to read, “is entitled to one song of Rachel Berry’s choosing, sung to him or her with love.”
Jesse wondered if he should leave. He was probably about to watch a vomit-inducing solo-turned-duet, having to bleach his brain afterwards to rid himself of the mental image of the two singing to each other. But as he watched, he realized that Finn wasn’t interested in what Rachel had to say. He didn’t care that she was sorry - for what, Jesse didn’t know - or that she had put this all together for him. He left the auditorium, stuffing the gift back in her hands, leaving her alone onstage with the band members.
“Should we, like, leave?” the boy with the guitar asked, making Jesse want to leap up and punch him in the face. You never talk to a girl after she’s been stormed out on. Not that quickly, anyway.
“No,” Rachel decided. “Whether it’s a heart attack or heartbreak, just like on Broadway, the show must go on.”
“Now there’s the attitude of a true performer,” Jesse murmured to himself, grip on the chair in front of him slackening. A gentle, almost dopey, smile crossed his face as Rachel started singing to what she thought was an empty auditorium. He didn’t miss the softened look of adoration the guitar player shot her way, either. He was observant like that.
Even though Finn had left and the song no longer had an intended recipient, Jesse still felt like he was intruding. This was Rachel’s moment, the moment she hadn’t had at Sectionals, and it wasn't fair of him to linger where he didn’t belong. This song didn’t belong to him, so why was he sitting here letting himself pretend that it did?
So he closed his eyes, letting Rachel’s voice flow through his mind, swirling around him like the fake snow that was falling on the stage, tricking him into thinking that maybe she was singing to him. He swayed back and forth in time to the music, mind playing him out a scene where Rachel noticed him sitting back here and walked up to him, still singing, slowing the tempo of the song so he could join her. She would pull him up onstage with her, where they would sing together, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her close as the fake snow dusted their heads.
But that didn’t happen. When Jesse opened his eyes at the close of the song, Rachel was still alone onstage with just the band members for company. She gave them a weak smile, which they interpreted as a goodbye, eyes darting back and forth across the snow-covered stage. He could hear the band members packing their instruments away and watched as Rachel wiped her eyes, posture straightening with an audible huff. She walked firmly from the auditorium, leaving it silent and deserted.
Jesse waited a full thirty seconds, then got up from his seat, walking up onto the stage. He walked through the little forest of artificial, blue trees, tapping a silver ball with his finger and listening to it brush against the needles as it swung back and forth. Then he walked over to the stool, re-opening the little box Rachel had given Finn. The note was still there.
He slipped it out of the box, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket before leaving the auditorium.
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Everyone at Dalton Academy knew Blaine as that cool, suave guy who could talk his way out of any problem and could sing Disney better than any Disney hero in the history of Walt Disney’s reign of terror.
Well, except for Wes and David.
They knew Blaine as the guy that tried to be suave and cool and somehow managed to worm out of anything if he tried hard enough and just so happened to have a voice that made people melt. And when he wasn’t trying to be suave and cool, he was terribly skittish and nervous and it made Wes want to whack him upside the head with a gavel.
In fact, that was how the gavel had come to be an integral part of Warblers meetings. Until its introduction, Blaine would ramble on and on about every possible song they could do until someone finally managed to shut him up by either talking over him or making their disinterest so obvious that even he couldn’t ignore it. The gavel was much more effective, and now they actually accomplished things in a timely manner.
But that was beside the point.
The point was that Blaine had been coming to Wes and David for advice ever since Kurt had transferred, wanting to know the best way to ease Kurt into a more-than-friends relationship, seeing how both Wes and David had managed to do just that with their current girlfriends. And even though Wes and David had all but drawn him out a pie chart with step-by-step instructions on the other side, Blaine still hadn’t done anything about it.
“It’s almost Christmas break,” Blaine whined, coming into Wes and David’s room uninvited and plopping himself down in his usual spot at the foot of Wes’s bed.
“I know,” David’s voice was even and he was still looking down at his history textbook. Wes chose to ignore Blaine in favor of keeping up a facebook chat with his girlfriend.
“And I haven’t told Kurt how I feel yet,” Blaine elaborated on why this was such a oh-no-the-world-is-ending tragedy.
“That’s nice,” Wes said absently, as he typed the same thing into his chat with his girlfriend.
“No it’s not!” Blaine covered his face with his hands. “We’re about to go on break for two whole weeks, and who knows what will happen then? And besides, I heard one of the seniors talking about putting the mistletoe up tomorrow. And you two know how Dalton gets about mistletoe.”
Wes and David looked up from their respective book and laptop, turning to make eye contact with each other for a split second before wincing in unison.
“We agreed never to speak of that ever again, Blaine,” David reminded him. “Keep that sort of thing up and we won’t help you.”
“Come on, guys,” Blaine pleaded. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Serenade him,” Wes told his laptop. “That seemed to work well last time.”
“What am I, a dog with only one trick?” Blaine rolled onto his stomach, taking up all of Wes’s bed now, hands balling into fists on Wes’s sheets.
“Yes, you are,” Wes told his laptop again. “If your performances in here are anything to go off of.” He laughed suddenly, saying, “Emma thinks you should just tell him how you feel.”
“Right, because that won’t scare him away or anything,” Blaine started, but both Wes and David tuned him out. They’d heard this particular rant about fifteen times each. It was the one where Blaine explained how he was trying to be a gentleman, and gentlemen never come on too strong. They are always polite and subtle and let the other person set the mood. Gentlemen never took advantage.
And Wes and David knew better than to argue with determined-to-be-a-gentleman Blaine.
So they let him keep talking, neither one of them paying any attention to him. When he finished, he was slightly out of breath.
“That’s nice,” David said to his textbook serenely. “And tell us again why waiting for the mistletoe to go up and then accidentally stumbling under some with him was a bad idea, again?”
That particular rant always got Blaine way more fired up. He had this weird notion that Kurt didn’t want to be kissed at all, by anyone, ever. So he would go off on a rant about it, talking about how kisses are sacred and giving one up so freely should be condemnable, and Wes and David just shook their heads, choosing not to remind Blaine how he had been running around last year, kissing everyone who so much as looked like he was about to stumble under mistletoe.
“Kelly says you should sing something together,” David, who had started texting his girlfriend when history got boring, held up his phone, breaking off Blaine’s rant.
The abrupt silence made Wes look away from his laptop, eyes going from Blaine to David then back to Blaine, asking, “What did you do to him?”
“I gave him a new idea,” David said smugly. “Pity you never thought of that, huh Wesbot?”
“I’ve given him plenty of ideas,” Wes crossed his arms. “What did you tell him this time, then?”
“I told him to sing with Kurt rather than at Kurt,” David shrugged. “Well, Kelly did.” He held up his phone again.
Before Wes or David realized what was going on, Blaine had made a grab for David’s phone, wrenching it out of his hands and pressing and holding the number three. He had a manic glint in his eye that they had only seen once before, and that had been when he had been plotting to ask out his ex-boyfriend. David grunted in protest, standing up in an attempt to re-claim his phone, but Blaine danced out of reach, finger in one ear and phone pressed against the other.
“Hi, Kelly!” he said enthusiastically. “Yeah, sorry to surprise you like that.” David and Wes rolled their eyes. No way was Blaine actually sorry. “Yeah, David just told me about that idea. Any song suggestions? Because I’m thinking that just might work.”
“He’s so grabby when he wants something,” Wes commented, scooting his chair closer to David’s and watching as Blaine started pacing the room. He had removed the finger from his ear and was now tugging at the curls escaping from their gelled hold behind his ear.
“And he’s even doing the hair thing,” David noticed. “You know it’s serious when he does the hair thing. He hasn’t done the hair thing since he asked Sam out.”
“That was a fun time,” Wes groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I think the entirety of Dalton was suffering from a case of secondhand embarrassment by the time he finally asked that boy out. At least this time the feelings are mutual.”
“They were mutual with Sam, too,” David reminded him.
“But Blaine didn’t know that,” Wes was now practically kneading his forehead. “Poor guy spent at least three whole days making up a chart and putting every single idiosyncrasy Sam had under ‘gay’ or ‘straight.’ Remember?”
“I’m pretty sure I still have that somewhere,” David looked over to their closet, which was practically spilling over with junk. “He wanted to pitch it after the successful seduction of Sam Evans, but I stole it. Think of it as collateral in case he ever does something to one of us.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Blaine shot them both an annoyed look, still on the phone with Kelly.
“Your point being?”
Blaine flipped them off.
“Use that finger to read your Bible, sir,” Wes quoted back, remembering the story Blaine had told them about the rather zealous protestor at a pride parade he had attended last summer. David chuckled and Blaine just glared at them. Wes smiled innocently, though he and David were totally high-fiving behind their backs. They were good at sneaky high-fives.
“Thanks, Kelly, you’ve been a huge help,” Blaine said into the phone, smiling sweetly even though Kelly wasn’t in the room to see it. “Yeah, I’ll tell him to call you back later. Bye.” He tossed the phone back to David, saying, “Your girl wants you to call her back in an hour. Family dinner time.”
“You dick, you hogged all our pre-dinner time,” David launched himself at Blaine, putting him in a headlock and mussing the boy’s hair until it no longer had any sense of style to it. “I’m just kidding; you know I don’t really care.”
“Yeah, you say that after you’re done messing up my hair,” Blaine put a hand on his head, trying to flatten the curls.
“Shut up, you look better like that,” Wes insisted. “Less like a smarm ball and more like a dork. Trust me, it’s an improvement.”
Blaine flipped them off again, other hand going to tug on the hair behind his ear again.
“Oh shit, he must really be invested in this cause, David,” Wes said, going into a mock-thinking pose. “”Look at him. Hair thing again and the constant misuse of his middle finger? He’s terrified that this will go wrong.”
“No, it’s all going to be fine,” Blaine said to himself more than the other two, starting to pace again. “I’ll sing the duet with Kurt and then afterwards I’ll tell him how I feel and he’ll be so in the moment that he’ll tell me that he feels the same way and - hang on, what if he doesn’t and he only says it because he’s in the moment?”
Wes and David collectively groaned. Then David stood up and slapped Blaine across the face.
“Stop it,” he ordered, towering over the smaller boy, even though he really wasn’t all that much taller. “Get a grip. Jesus, Blaine, it’s not like you’re asking a straight boy to have gay sex with you. You’re trying to tell a boy who’s smitten with you that you feel the same.”
Blaine didn’t even try to argue that point like he normally did. He just put a hand on his cheek, pouting and saying, “You hit me.”
“You deserved it,” Wes piped up.
------
It took Blaine a full ten minutes to pick up the boom box.
Then it took him fifteen more to actually go into the room where Kurt was studying.
He was just really nervous, okay? Which was totally normal when you’re about to go sing a duet with the boy you’re completely head-over-heels for. So the jittery butterflies were to be expected, and the sweaty palms were nothing to worry about, even if it did mean that he was switching the boom box from one hand to the other every minute or so.
Steeling himself, he walked into the room, expression softening immediately upon seeing Kurt. He was bent low over the desk, reading one of his textbooks with such concentration that he hadn’t even noticed Blaine coming in. He set the boom box down harder than he had anticipated, making Kurt jump.
“Hey,” his voice sounded loud, and it wasn’t just because of the high ceilings and the vastness of the room.
“You scared me,” Kurt’s voice sounded breathless, but he didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he had straightened up in his seat, clouds of worry completely gone from his face. Now he was curious, obviously wondering why Blaine had decided to come interrupt his homework.
“Well, good, ‘cause I’m actually Marley’s ghost,” Blaine found himself saying, his mind somehow remembering that stupid picture Jesse had sent Kurt a while back, “and I’m here to tell you to stop studying so hard.” What possessed him to whisper it and walk forward like he was balancing on a tightrope, he didn’t know, but it got a smile out of Kurt. Question answered, probably. He took the seat opposite Kurt right as the other boy asked, “What’s with the boom box?”
His tongue moved of its own accord, not saying his planned speech (“Remember how you told me about that duets competition back at McKinley? Well, I’ve been thinking, and I think that it’s about time you got a proper duet with a boy. Shall we?”) but instead blurting out, “I need you to sing with me.”
And then his tongue took a giant leap ahead of his brain and he was suddenly telling Kurt a bullshit story about how he was singing a duet in the King’s Island Christmas Spectacular, which would have been true if he had told Kurt this four years ago. Four years ago before he had been at Dalton and was still far enough in denial enough to ask a pretty girl in his grade to sing a Christmas duet with him, thinking that maybe upping his exposure to intimacy might do the trick.
Thankfully it hadn’t and the girl had been quite lovely about it when he had confessed that he didn’t really like her after all.
But what made him say that now? He didn’t know. He’d have to have a stern talking-to with his tongue later that evening. Well, that or he would just drink scalding hot chocolate and burn himself as a punishment.
“A personal favorite,” Kurt was smiling, though, so that had to count for something. “Too bad they’d never let us sing it together, though.”
The frown that creased his face had nothing to do with confusion at Kurt’s words, though that’s how the other boy interpreted it. It was confusion as to why Kurt thought they wouldn’t be allowed to perform the song together. Well, maybe not here, admittedly, but one day when they both ran away to big cities full of acceptance and people like them, they could sing it all they wanted. But rather than tell Kurt all about his rather unrealistic and slightly stalker-ish daydreams about the pair of them eloping to Iowa, he just made a noise of understanding and asked, “So you gonna help me out here?”
“Anything to get me to stop reading about Charlemagne.”
“Very good, then,” he closed Kurt’s book for him, already standing up to turn on the music. He didn’t trust himself to keep talking any longer. He just needed to get the music on, now, and hope that Kurt would be able to see through this shaky and completely false pretense. Because, really, Blaine could have gone to any of the boys to rehearse, and he picks Kurt? Hopefully Kurt would think something of that, at least.
He started the music, doing a couple shuffling dance steps towards Kurt, gesturing for him to start the song. And when he did, Blaine felt all pretenses fade away. It didn’t matter how he had gotten Kurt to sing the song. All that mattered was the two of them singing the song together. And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
He let his voice linger subtly on the terms of endearment throughout the song, eyes locked on Kurt for almost the entire time. The boy was a whole new person when he performed - and Blaine meant really performed, not singing washed-out versions of Broadway showstoppers in an attempt to land a solo. But then, maybe this wasn’t really a performance, because there was nothing fake about the way he was singing, so maybe there was nothing fake about the way Kurt was singing either.
And the other boy really seemed to be having a good time. He danced around the room, letting Blaine chase him, catch up with him, then chase him again. His voice had a coyness to it that made something shift in Blaine’s stomach. (Though it was probably just the jittery butterflies again.) The way Kurt shied away from eye contact and the way his cheeks were flushed told Blaine that this did mean something to him. If the way his cheeks flared redder than before when Blaine caught his arm, spun him in, and sang, “Ooh, your lips are delicious,” with his breath ghosting across Kurt’s lips was anything to go off of, there was definitely a mutual attraction.
Kurt was positively glowing by the time they collapsed on the sofa together, still lost in the moment of the song as they looked at each other. He was smiling, too, and not one of those tight-lipped smiles that he had perfected. This was the kind of smile that he only used when he wasn’t thinking about it. This was his I’m-so-happy-that-I-don’t-even-care-that-you-can-see-my-teeth-for-once smile, the kind that Blaine loved best.
They blinked and broke eye contact in unison, both looking away from the other as a little nervous cough worked its way up from Blaine's throat. He forced himself to keep his hands away from the hair behind his ear, looking back at Kurt as the boy said, “I think you’re ready.”
His smile faded slightly as he remembered that stupid, idiotic, bullshit story he had used as a cover. All hopes of them being caught in the moment and forgetting the pretenses were abandoned, and Blaine looked away, not entirely sure how this was supposed to segue into him telling Kurt that he might be kind of in love with him.
“Well, for the record,” he said, giving a little sigh and standing up, “you are much better than that girl’s gonna be.” He winked as he moved around the sofa to pick up the boom box, wondering frantically if there was any way to salvage this failed plan. He almost set the boom box back down, ready to confess the whole thing, but there was suddenly a man at the door. Blaine recognized him as New Directions’ director, but that didn’t explain why he was here, two hours away from McKinley, at Dalton coming into this room right as he was about to confess his undying, rainbow-covered, Disney love.
But Blaine was still a gentleman, so he smiled at the man, continuing in his trek towards the door, muttering a polite, “Hi,” which the man returned. As soon as he was out of the man’s line of sight, his face darkened. Great timing, McKinley man. Thanks a lot. He set the boom box down on one of the tables lining the hallway, leaning his head back against the wall and doing one of those pathetic, clichéd, slow-motion slide-down-the-wall things that you see in every chick flick ever.
He could hear Kurt laughing with the man in there, both clearly happy to see each other. Blaine felt bitter and upset and he half-wanted to listen in on a conversation where Kurt chewed the man out for not standing up for him back at McKinley, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This man had just driven two hours just to see Kurt, and even if there was resentment, Kurt wasn’t the type to give him a hard time.
“Good to see you, Kurt,” the man said, and Blaine could hear the smile in his voice. Then, “Someone special?”
Blaine’s ears were suddenly hyper-sensitive to noise. There was a weird buzzing in his head and the jittery butterflies from before were probably engaging in a re-enactment of the Civil War or something, because it was almost painful. And since when had the heating vent been so noisy?
“No, just a friend,” Kurt all but sighed, and Blaine’s eyes closed, head drooping to rest on his knees. “But on the upside, I’m in love with him and he’s actually gay. Call that progress.”
It took every ounce of self-restraint that Blaine had to not burst back into the room, grab Kurt, and eat his face.
Instead, he somehow managed to stand up, pick up the boom box, and walk silently down the hall, grinning so wide that it was physically painful. When he reached the end of the hallway and turned down towards the main entrance, he started running.
Blaine threw the doors open, bursting out of the building and skipping through the snow, feeling so lighthearted that he could probably start flying if he tried hard enough. He started humming the chorus to A Wonderful Guy as he skipped back towards his dorm building, actually breaking into the chorus once he was inside.
One of the seniors was standing on a stepladder, putting up sprigs of mistletoe. Blaine danced past him, not even stopping to give an explanation for his behavior, singing the entire way up to his room.
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CLICK ME FOR PART TWO.
Fandom: Glee
Written: December, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Words: 13,500 [total]
Summary: Jesse St. James was at Sectionals. He overheard Rachel's song for Finn in the auditorium. Blaine plotted with Wes and David to sing with Kurt. Blaine's a dork who fails at confessing his feelings. Mr. Schuester did have a reason to be at Dalton, I promise. Jesse's kind of a stalker, but with good intentions. Also, Christmas spirit. He and Kurt like bearing gifts. Puck and Quinn remember their daughter's first Christmas. And Blaine is still a complete dork who doesn't fail at confessing his feelings. tl;dr: A complete re-write of 2x10.
Notes: SPOILERS for episodes 2x09 and 2x10. No, really.
Posted in two parts.
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Jesse would never admit it, but he’s been facebook stalking Rachel Berry - and, by extension, the rest of New Directions - since last year’s Regionals. He can't help that he was curious to see how they’re doing and more than a little concerned for Rachel’s well being. He saw first hand how she dealt with rejection, and now that he had some sense knocked into him from college, he’s realized just how much he cares about her.
So he decided to show how much he cares by facebook creeping.
At first he just checked her wall at almost alarmingly regular and frequent intervals. He would watch the occasional videos she still posted of herself singing Broadway showstoppers and pop tunes. He would gag over her and Finn’s wall-to-wall posts. He would smile whenever one of her status updates mentioned glee club and just how happy she was.
Then he worked up the courage to ‘like’ one of her videos. It was her singing What I did for Love from A Chorus Line, and the emotion in her voice was so poignant it was almost painful. He waited an hour before actually commenting on it, saying a simple, ‘Nice work,’ even though he wanted to rave about her range and her grasp on the meaning of the song and how perfectly her inflections mirrored the imagery the song presented.
And he didn’t spend the next week re-watching it obsessively and waiting for some indication that she had seen his comment.
Well, he hadn’t been de-friended, at any rate.
He tried commenting on her status next. Rachel Berry needs suggestions for what song to sing for her next video. Finn had posted that she should sing something from a Disney movie. Jesse (who wasn’t at all trying to one-up Finn, so stop looking at him like that) posted, ‘Try looking up something by Jason Robert Brown or Kerrigan & Lowdermilk. They all have an uncanny knack for putting real life into lyrics.’
He had not under any circumstances walked around grinning for the next week because she had taken him up on that suggestion, posting a rather heartbreaking rendition of Not a Love Story that he immediately ‘liked.’
From there, their online relationship had blossomed. Rachel posted videos and he commented on them. She asked about college and he told her all about the student production of Zanna Don’t! he had somehow landed the lead in. (Kurt had butted in on that one, asking Jesse how on earth he managed to play a gay stereotype and not doubt his own masculinity, to which Jesse had replied with, ‘I’m a theatre kid. We’re all gay until proven straight anyway.’) Their relationship progressed until they were actually using facebook chat rather than wall-to-wall posts, leading up to the point where he told her good night daily for almost a week.
It was like having an online, long-distance girlfriend, except that his profile still said ‘single’ while hers said ‘in a relationship with Finn Hudson.’
Except one day Rachel’s profile suddenly said ‘in a relationship.’ Jesse had immediately gone to Finn’s page, noticing that he had hidden his relationship status. He scoured both their walls, not seeing any sympathetic posts from concerned friends or anything to indicate the start of a new relationship for one of them.
He kept his facebook window open all night, constantly checking it and noticing a post on Finn’s wall from Santana (Now that Man Hands is out of the picture, want to go back to that motel?) before it was deleted minutes later.
Oh.
He had to restrain himself from posting a very long, drawn-out, and lyrical rant on Finn’s wall about treating women with respect and not going behind someone’s back. Then he realized that, coming from him, that would seem a tad hypocritical. Besides, he didn’t know the whole story. He wasn’t about to make a facebook ass of himself just because he was upset on Rachel’s behalf.
Besides, he was coming back to Ohio for Thanksgiving break. He counted himself lucky that New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline were both competing in their Sectionals competitions on different days, so he could go watch both.
He had planned his post on Rachel’s wall for weeks. Guess who’s coming back to Ohio! You’ll find me front row center at Sectionals watching you lead your club to victory with a smile on my face and a bouquet of flowers waiting for you in my arms. He almost posted it, too, but there was something about her unchanged relationship status that stopped him.
No. He wasn’t going to push. He was going to be respectful. He was going to support both of his old clubs, all of his old teammates. He didn’t have to be the center of attention anymore - his constant casting as ‘swing/ensemble’ after Zanna Don’t! had done wonders for the size of his head - and besides, this was Rachel’s turn to shine. He was going to let her shine all the brighter because he wasn’t going to do anything to take attention away from her.
He ended up sitting near the back, watching in horror as the curtain opened on the Dalton Warblers and he recognized Kurt on their lead singer’s left side.
Clearly his facebook creeping skills needed some help if he hadn’t known about this. Transferring schools was a big deal, much bigger than he had made it out to be. His parents had all but bribed Figgins to let him into McKinley, egged on by Shelby’s promise to pay for half his college tuition if he did that for her. He wondered why Kurt had left McKinley, deciding to send the boy a lengthy message via facebook after the competition. They were good enough friends to warrant curiosity, weren’t they?
But Jesse would re-evaluate his and Kurt’s friendship status later, because he was more concerned with how the boy looked onstage. He looked uncomfortable and nervous, not at all like himself. The Warbler’s lead singer was selling it like nobody’s business, but nothing could hide the fact that at some points, Kurt was a full step off his choreography.
Jesse clapped politely anyway. The Warblers were very good, even he had to admit. He even let a, “Yeah Kurt!” escape his lips, attracting the attention of those in his immediate vicinity. The woman sitting next to him raised her eyebrow at him, so he mirrored her expression, not missing the muttered, “Homo,” she said to her lap.
Gay until proven straight, even here, apparently, Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle.
And then it was New Directions’ turn. Jesse turned in his seat expectantly, watching the rear of the auditorium. If he knew the club like he thought he did, Rachel or Finn would come bursting through those doors any minute. A couple people in the seats around him turned as well, most likely out of curiosity.
He didn’t know the boy who was singing and walking down the aisle, but he recognized Quinn. Jesse’s nose wrinkled, not in disgust, but confusion. This song really did not suit Quinn’s voice at all. He couldn’t imagine why they had chosen Quinn over Rachel for this particular song. Admittedly Sam’s voice was more pleasing to the ear than Finn’s, but the boy’s nerves were on display for all to see. Jesse watched the pair walk down their aisles, singing in each other’s faces once they met onstage.
Once the rest of the club entered, Jesse had eyes only for Rachel.
She looked unhappy. He kept blinking hard, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no, Rachel definitely did not look happy. Her usual confident stage persona was gone, replaced by an insecure sixteen year old who wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.
Come on, Rachel, he found himself coaching her in his head. Chin up. You can do this. I know you can. Come on.
Regardless of what was the cause, Rachel looked much more confident come the second song. Which, strangely enough, she did not have the lead for. Jesse was shaking his head, for while Santana’s voice was suited for this song, it made no sense for New Directions to pick Quinn and Santana over Rachel. Rachel was their best singer and she always had been, so why were they choosing now to put her voice on the backburner?
He didn’t get a chance to ask.
Once the Warblers and New Directions had tied, things had gotten chaotic. The woman sitting next to him turned out to be the daughter of one of the Hipsters, so she had gotten all fired up about them losing. When Jesse had tried to squeeze past her to head for the exit, she had rounded on him, asking why his boyfriend should be allowed to go to Regionals when he had his whole life in front of him to achieve something. His reaction - loud, obnoxious, snorting laughter - hadn’t helped matters.
By the time he had finally freed himself from her ranting, New Directions had all boarded their bus and were at the far end of the parking lot, turn signal blinking as they headed back to Lima. Jesse shrugged a shoulder and kicked a stone, listening to it clatter on the concrete.
“Jesse?”
He turned, a smile breaking across his face when he recognized Kurt. He was standing with the rest of the Warblers, all of whom were standing on the sidewalk close to the curb, no doubt waiting for their own bus.
“Hi, Kurt,” he stepped over to the group of boys, feeling out of place next to their matching blazers. “You were all wonderful in there.” He didn’t mention how Kurt had looked like he was going to shit his pants.
“Thanks,” Kurt smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jesse was instantly curious, but he quashed the desire to ask by chuckling and telling Kurt all about the angry daughter of one of the Hipsters, including the comment she had made about them being boyfriends.
“I’m so sorry,” Kurt looked positively mortified, which hadn’t been what Jesse had been going for at all. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing. I’m sorry, Jesse.”
“Nah,” Jesse waved this away, echoing his previous thought. “I’m a musical theatre major. We’re all gay until proven straight anyway.” That earned him a light chuckle.
One of the boys standing with his back to Kurt turned, no doubt wanting in on the joke. Jesse recognized him as the Warblers’ lead singer, so he stuck out a hand, saying, “Great job.”
“Thanks,” the boy was looking at him with an expression halfway between remembrance and confusion. “I’m Blaine. You’re from Vocal Adrenaline, right?”
“Was,” Jesse corrected him, giving Blaine’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “Jesse St. James. I’m at UCLA now. Musical theatre major.”
“That’s right, you’re the guy who stomped us last year at Sectionals,” Blaine’s voice was light and it didn’t sound like he held a grudge.
“We tend to do that,” Jesse couldn’t help the smirk that broke across his face. “I’m sure they’ll kick both your asses once Regionals come around.”
“Both?” Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed.
“You,” Jesse gestured to Blaine, “and New Directions,” he gestured towards Kurt. “Oh, wait,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Nevermind. I keep forgetting you’re not at McKinley anymore.”
“I’m a Warbler now,” Kurt shrugged one shoulder, “with Blaine.” This time the smile did meet his eyes.
“What made you change schools?” Jesse asked, figuring now was as good a time as any, but right then a charter bus pulled up and a slender Asian boy called out, “Okay, Warblers, this is us!”
“It was nice meeting you. Officially,” Blaine gave Jesse’s arm a little pat before turning to board the bus. Kurt, however, lingered back.
“Bullying,” he tried to sound offhand, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It just got to be too much, and Dalton has a no tolerance policy. So I switched and here I am.” His eyes seemed to sparkle, and Jesse suspected that had nothing to do with Dalton and everything to do with the shorter boy with slicked back hair who was now boarding the bus.
“I’m sorry to hear that. About the bullying, I mean. I’m sorry it reached that point. But I’m glad you’re happy.” He put a hand on Kurt’s arm, steering him over to the bus, where the line of waiting-to-board Warblers was dwindling. “Listen, I’ll be in for the holiday if you want to catch up at all. I know we were never really close, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone removed from the situation to talk to. Especially when that someone is a musical theatre major at UCLA, meaning he’s been on the receiving end of quite a few gay jokes. I never really understood just how hard you had it, but now I think I have an idea.”
Kurt’s eyes were sparkling for an entire different reason now.
“Too much?” Jesse asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“You’re supposed to be a dick who’s bent on crushing all our hopes and dreams with your band of soulless robots,” Kurt reminded him. “Who are you and what have you done with Jesse St. James?”
“I’m Jesse two-point-oh,” he grinned. “The one that got his ass handed to him courtesy of his college friends who weren’t willing to put up with his crap. I’m really nice now.” He nodded enthusiastically, then gave Kurt a little pat on the back and a nudge towards the bus. “Now get going back to gay Hogwarts.”
He walked away before Kurt could ask where the hell he had come up with that name.
When his phone buzzed five minutes later, announcing that he had a text from Kurt, he smiled, pleased that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t done a mass purging of phone numbers after the whole ND vs VA showdown last year.
Gay Hogwarts? Really, Jesse?
He laughed, texting back, Have you seen those uniforms? Please. Totally gay Hogwarts.
So maybe he hadn’t accomplished his goal of meeting up with Rachel and rekindling a friendship, at least, but he had successfully gotten himself on good terms with Kurt. He would say speaking terms, except that it was more like texting terms, if anything else.
Small victories.
And those were the ones that mattered in the end, anyway. Besides, it was thanks to Kurt that he was filled in on all the Finn and Rachel drama. Admittedly Kurt had heard the story from Mercedes rather than watching the whole thing unfold, but that was better than nothing. Now he actually could rationalize his desire to punch Finn’s face in, seeing how he had been the one to break things off.
He went back to California after Thanksgiving feeling only a little bit miserable that he hadn’t been able to meet up with Rachel.
But maybe that was for the best. What kind of guy would that make him if he swooped in right after a big breakup, trying to make things better? Even if his intentions were admirable and he was perfectly content to have nothing more than friendship, that would probably do more harm than good.
He went back to obsessively facebook stalking Rachel between classes and studying for finals and rehearsals for the winter show. They were doing a musical adaptation of A Christmas Carol, and he had amused both Kurt and Blaine one night after rehearsals by sending Kurt a picture of himself in costume as the ghost of Jacob Marley with the caption, “Do I get a prize for worst dressed?” Kurt had replied with a picture of himself and Blaine, their faces twisted with disgust.
It was an interesting friendship, the relationship between the three of them. Jesse genuinely liked both of them, but he knew that both had their own preconceived notions of him. To Blaine, he was the guy that beat them at Sectionals. To Kurt, he was the guy that broke Rachel’s heart and beat them at Regionals. And somehow, he had managed to convince both of them that he really was being genuine.
It was probably the gay Hogwarts joke.
He’d have to call up Danny and thank him for that one. Danny had come to Carmel after going to Dalton for two years, telling anyone who would listen about how the school looked like a castle and how the uniforms were like something out of a Harry Potter movie and how, at Christmastime, mistletoe lined the hallways and everyone was sucking face with everyone else, regardless of the gender of their preferred sexual partner.
Totally gay Hogwarts.
He kept contact with the two even though finals week kept him busier than he had ever been in his life. It felt like he had slept on a Sunday, woken up on Monday, spent five whole days awake and cramming for his tests and drinking endless cups of coffee, and then suddenly it was Friday and his first semester at college was over. That was definitely going to take some getting used to.
He slept the entire flight home, and then had passed out on his bed for at least two days after that. His parents had called a doctor and everything. But he’d just laughed, shrugging it away and telling them that college is hard and that he’ll be a pro at finals week in no time.
And then he’d driven out to McKinley to find Rachel.
Okay, in retrospect, not one of his better plans. It was really, really stupid of him to come to the school unannounced, but it’s not like there were men guarding the doors so he couldn’t get in. All he had to do was circle the school once looking for a cracked door and slip inside. Easy.
But coming unannounced meant he had absolutely no idea where everyone would be. He tried the choir room first, assuming that the glee club would be there rehearsing, but no such luck. Then he tried the auditorium and he had to give himself a high-five. The stage was decorated with artificial Christmas trees, all blue in color, lit with white lights with ornaments dangling off their branches artfully. It was beautiful, and Jesse felt his smile soften as he slipped into one of the seats at the back of the auditorium, hoping to get an explanation for the décor before he revealed himself.
He didn’t have to wait long. A few members of the band came onstage, Rachel following closely at their heels, pointing to where they were to situate themselves. Jesse’s heartbeat picked up at the sight of her, causing him to breathe a little shallower than was normal. It would have been mortifying if anyone had actually seen him.
Rachel looked beautiful, perfect from every angle, even at this distance. She looked even smaller, if that were possible, hair curled and shorter than he remembered. She wore a simple dress that framed her form and a red beret in her hair, no doubt pinned back and in place. She fit in with the Christmas trees and looked so at home on the stage that Jesse thought that maybe sitting here and watching her from the shadows would make up for the lackluster performance at Sectionals.
“Now remember, it has to be lush and romantic,” Rachel told the nearest band member. Jesse straightened in his seat, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out why Rachel was requesting such a song.
“Why?” Fin weaved his way through the trees, his height magnified by the way he was taller than all the little trees. Jesse almost laughed; their height difference certainly was comical enough.
“Because I’m very specific when I give a gift,” Rachel explained, turning to Finn and muttering something about kittens. Jesse could tell she was nervous from the way she clasped her hands behind her back and the insecurity and plea for approval that was in her voice when she asked, “Do you like my winter wonderland?”
“I don’t really like artificial Christmas trees. I like real ones,” Finn started, and Jesse almost jumped up from where he sat to yell at the other boy. Didn’t he realize what she was doing for him? Rachel didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here she had decked out the entire stage with trees just for him. And he had the nerve to complain that they weren’t real. Jesse’s hands clenched on the seat in front of him, gripping it so tightly it started to hurt, leaning forward and cringing as Finn continued to make excuses.
And now Rachel was giving the clueless boy a gift. The little box had an intricate bow on it, too, matching the hue of the Christmas trees. Rachel had clearly spent a lot of time planning this, color coordinating the entire thing while trying to ensure that it was something Finn would enjoy.
“The bearer of this note,” Finn began to read, “is entitled to one song of Rachel Berry’s choosing, sung to him or her with love.”
Jesse wondered if he should leave. He was probably about to watch a vomit-inducing solo-turned-duet, having to bleach his brain afterwards to rid himself of the mental image of the two singing to each other. But as he watched, he realized that Finn wasn’t interested in what Rachel had to say. He didn’t care that she was sorry - for what, Jesse didn’t know - or that she had put this all together for him. He left the auditorium, stuffing the gift back in her hands, leaving her alone onstage with the band members.
“Should we, like, leave?” the boy with the guitar asked, making Jesse want to leap up and punch him in the face. You never talk to a girl after she’s been stormed out on. Not that quickly, anyway.
“No,” Rachel decided. “Whether it’s a heart attack or heartbreak, just like on Broadway, the show must go on.”
“Now there’s the attitude of a true performer,” Jesse murmured to himself, grip on the chair in front of him slackening. A gentle, almost dopey, smile crossed his face as Rachel started singing to what she thought was an empty auditorium. He didn’t miss the softened look of adoration the guitar player shot her way, either. He was observant like that.
Even though Finn had left and the song no longer had an intended recipient, Jesse still felt like he was intruding. This was Rachel’s moment, the moment she hadn’t had at Sectionals, and it wasn't fair of him to linger where he didn’t belong. This song didn’t belong to him, so why was he sitting here letting himself pretend that it did?
So he closed his eyes, letting Rachel’s voice flow through his mind, swirling around him like the fake snow that was falling on the stage, tricking him into thinking that maybe she was singing to him. He swayed back and forth in time to the music, mind playing him out a scene where Rachel noticed him sitting back here and walked up to him, still singing, slowing the tempo of the song so he could join her. She would pull him up onstage with her, where they would sing together, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her close as the fake snow dusted their heads.
But that didn’t happen. When Jesse opened his eyes at the close of the song, Rachel was still alone onstage with just the band members for company. She gave them a weak smile, which they interpreted as a goodbye, eyes darting back and forth across the snow-covered stage. He could hear the band members packing their instruments away and watched as Rachel wiped her eyes, posture straightening with an audible huff. She walked firmly from the auditorium, leaving it silent and deserted.
Jesse waited a full thirty seconds, then got up from his seat, walking up onto the stage. He walked through the little forest of artificial, blue trees, tapping a silver ball with his finger and listening to it brush against the needles as it swung back and forth. Then he walked over to the stool, re-opening the little box Rachel had given Finn. The note was still there.
He slipped it out of the box, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket before leaving the auditorium.
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Everyone at Dalton Academy knew Blaine as that cool, suave guy who could talk his way out of any problem and could sing Disney better than any Disney hero in the history of Walt Disney’s reign of terror.
Well, except for Wes and David.
They knew Blaine as the guy that tried to be suave and cool and somehow managed to worm out of anything if he tried hard enough and just so happened to have a voice that made people melt. And when he wasn’t trying to be suave and cool, he was terribly skittish and nervous and it made Wes want to whack him upside the head with a gavel.
In fact, that was how the gavel had come to be an integral part of Warblers meetings. Until its introduction, Blaine would ramble on and on about every possible song they could do until someone finally managed to shut him up by either talking over him or making their disinterest so obvious that even he couldn’t ignore it. The gavel was much more effective, and now they actually accomplished things in a timely manner.
But that was beside the point.
The point was that Blaine had been coming to Wes and David for advice ever since Kurt had transferred, wanting to know the best way to ease Kurt into a more-than-friends relationship, seeing how both Wes and David had managed to do just that with their current girlfriends. And even though Wes and David had all but drawn him out a pie chart with step-by-step instructions on the other side, Blaine still hadn’t done anything about it.
“It’s almost Christmas break,” Blaine whined, coming into Wes and David’s room uninvited and plopping himself down in his usual spot at the foot of Wes’s bed.
“I know,” David’s voice was even and he was still looking down at his history textbook. Wes chose to ignore Blaine in favor of keeping up a facebook chat with his girlfriend.
“And I haven’t told Kurt how I feel yet,” Blaine elaborated on why this was such a oh-no-the-world-is-ending tragedy.
“That’s nice,” Wes said absently, as he typed the same thing into his chat with his girlfriend.
“No it’s not!” Blaine covered his face with his hands. “We’re about to go on break for two whole weeks, and who knows what will happen then? And besides, I heard one of the seniors talking about putting the mistletoe up tomorrow. And you two know how Dalton gets about mistletoe.”
Wes and David looked up from their respective book and laptop, turning to make eye contact with each other for a split second before wincing in unison.
“We agreed never to speak of that ever again, Blaine,” David reminded him. “Keep that sort of thing up and we won’t help you.”
“Come on, guys,” Blaine pleaded. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Serenade him,” Wes told his laptop. “That seemed to work well last time.”
“What am I, a dog with only one trick?” Blaine rolled onto his stomach, taking up all of Wes’s bed now, hands balling into fists on Wes’s sheets.
“Yes, you are,” Wes told his laptop again. “If your performances in here are anything to go off of.” He laughed suddenly, saying, “Emma thinks you should just tell him how you feel.”
“Right, because that won’t scare him away or anything,” Blaine started, but both Wes and David tuned him out. They’d heard this particular rant about fifteen times each. It was the one where Blaine explained how he was trying to be a gentleman, and gentlemen never come on too strong. They are always polite and subtle and let the other person set the mood. Gentlemen never took advantage.
And Wes and David knew better than to argue with determined-to-be-a-gentleman Blaine.
So they let him keep talking, neither one of them paying any attention to him. When he finished, he was slightly out of breath.
“That’s nice,” David said to his textbook serenely. “And tell us again why waiting for the mistletoe to go up and then accidentally stumbling under some with him was a bad idea, again?”
That particular rant always got Blaine way more fired up. He had this weird notion that Kurt didn’t want to be kissed at all, by anyone, ever. So he would go off on a rant about it, talking about how kisses are sacred and giving one up so freely should be condemnable, and Wes and David just shook their heads, choosing not to remind Blaine how he had been running around last year, kissing everyone who so much as looked like he was about to stumble under mistletoe.
“Kelly says you should sing something together,” David, who had started texting his girlfriend when history got boring, held up his phone, breaking off Blaine’s rant.
The abrupt silence made Wes look away from his laptop, eyes going from Blaine to David then back to Blaine, asking, “What did you do to him?”
“I gave him a new idea,” David said smugly. “Pity you never thought of that, huh Wesbot?”
“I’ve given him plenty of ideas,” Wes crossed his arms. “What did you tell him this time, then?”
“I told him to sing with Kurt rather than at Kurt,” David shrugged. “Well, Kelly did.” He held up his phone again.
Before Wes or David realized what was going on, Blaine had made a grab for David’s phone, wrenching it out of his hands and pressing and holding the number three. He had a manic glint in his eye that they had only seen once before, and that had been when he had been plotting to ask out his ex-boyfriend. David grunted in protest, standing up in an attempt to re-claim his phone, but Blaine danced out of reach, finger in one ear and phone pressed against the other.
“Hi, Kelly!” he said enthusiastically. “Yeah, sorry to surprise you like that.” David and Wes rolled their eyes. No way was Blaine actually sorry. “Yeah, David just told me about that idea. Any song suggestions? Because I’m thinking that just might work.”
“He’s so grabby when he wants something,” Wes commented, scooting his chair closer to David’s and watching as Blaine started pacing the room. He had removed the finger from his ear and was now tugging at the curls escaping from their gelled hold behind his ear.
“And he’s even doing the hair thing,” David noticed. “You know it’s serious when he does the hair thing. He hasn’t done the hair thing since he asked Sam out.”
“That was a fun time,” Wes groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I think the entirety of Dalton was suffering from a case of secondhand embarrassment by the time he finally asked that boy out. At least this time the feelings are mutual.”
“They were mutual with Sam, too,” David reminded him.
“But Blaine didn’t know that,” Wes was now practically kneading his forehead. “Poor guy spent at least three whole days making up a chart and putting every single idiosyncrasy Sam had under ‘gay’ or ‘straight.’ Remember?”
“I’m pretty sure I still have that somewhere,” David looked over to their closet, which was practically spilling over with junk. “He wanted to pitch it after the successful seduction of Sam Evans, but I stole it. Think of it as collateral in case he ever does something to one of us.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Blaine shot them both an annoyed look, still on the phone with Kelly.
“Your point being?”
Blaine flipped them off.
“Use that finger to read your Bible, sir,” Wes quoted back, remembering the story Blaine had told them about the rather zealous protestor at a pride parade he had attended last summer. David chuckled and Blaine just glared at them. Wes smiled innocently, though he and David were totally high-fiving behind their backs. They were good at sneaky high-fives.
“Thanks, Kelly, you’ve been a huge help,” Blaine said into the phone, smiling sweetly even though Kelly wasn’t in the room to see it. “Yeah, I’ll tell him to call you back later. Bye.” He tossed the phone back to David, saying, “Your girl wants you to call her back in an hour. Family dinner time.”
“You dick, you hogged all our pre-dinner time,” David launched himself at Blaine, putting him in a headlock and mussing the boy’s hair until it no longer had any sense of style to it. “I’m just kidding; you know I don’t really care.”
“Yeah, you say that after you’re done messing up my hair,” Blaine put a hand on his head, trying to flatten the curls.
“Shut up, you look better like that,” Wes insisted. “Less like a smarm ball and more like a dork. Trust me, it’s an improvement.”
Blaine flipped them off again, other hand going to tug on the hair behind his ear again.
“Oh shit, he must really be invested in this cause, David,” Wes said, going into a mock-thinking pose. “”Look at him. Hair thing again and the constant misuse of his middle finger? He’s terrified that this will go wrong.”
“No, it’s all going to be fine,” Blaine said to himself more than the other two, starting to pace again. “I’ll sing the duet with Kurt and then afterwards I’ll tell him how I feel and he’ll be so in the moment that he’ll tell me that he feels the same way and - hang on, what if he doesn’t and he only says it because he’s in the moment?”
Wes and David collectively groaned. Then David stood up and slapped Blaine across the face.
“Stop it,” he ordered, towering over the smaller boy, even though he really wasn’t all that much taller. “Get a grip. Jesus, Blaine, it’s not like you’re asking a straight boy to have gay sex with you. You’re trying to tell a boy who’s smitten with you that you feel the same.”
Blaine didn’t even try to argue that point like he normally did. He just put a hand on his cheek, pouting and saying, “You hit me.”
“You deserved it,” Wes piped up.
------
It took Blaine a full ten minutes to pick up the boom box.
Then it took him fifteen more to actually go into the room where Kurt was studying.
He was just really nervous, okay? Which was totally normal when you’re about to go sing a duet with the boy you’re completely head-over-heels for. So the jittery butterflies were to be expected, and the sweaty palms were nothing to worry about, even if it did mean that he was switching the boom box from one hand to the other every minute or so.
Steeling himself, he walked into the room, expression softening immediately upon seeing Kurt. He was bent low over the desk, reading one of his textbooks with such concentration that he hadn’t even noticed Blaine coming in. He set the boom box down harder than he had anticipated, making Kurt jump.
“Hey,” his voice sounded loud, and it wasn’t just because of the high ceilings and the vastness of the room.
“You scared me,” Kurt’s voice sounded breathless, but he didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he had straightened up in his seat, clouds of worry completely gone from his face. Now he was curious, obviously wondering why Blaine had decided to come interrupt his homework.
“Well, good, ‘cause I’m actually Marley’s ghost,” Blaine found himself saying, his mind somehow remembering that stupid picture Jesse had sent Kurt a while back, “and I’m here to tell you to stop studying so hard.” What possessed him to whisper it and walk forward like he was balancing on a tightrope, he didn’t know, but it got a smile out of Kurt. Question answered, probably. He took the seat opposite Kurt right as the other boy asked, “What’s with the boom box?”
His tongue moved of its own accord, not saying his planned speech (“Remember how you told me about that duets competition back at McKinley? Well, I’ve been thinking, and I think that it’s about time you got a proper duet with a boy. Shall we?”) but instead blurting out, “I need you to sing with me.”
And then his tongue took a giant leap ahead of his brain and he was suddenly telling Kurt a bullshit story about how he was singing a duet in the King’s Island Christmas Spectacular, which would have been true if he had told Kurt this four years ago. Four years ago before he had been at Dalton and was still far enough in denial enough to ask a pretty girl in his grade to sing a Christmas duet with him, thinking that maybe upping his exposure to intimacy might do the trick.
Thankfully it hadn’t and the girl had been quite lovely about it when he had confessed that he didn’t really like her after all.
But what made him say that now? He didn’t know. He’d have to have a stern talking-to with his tongue later that evening. Well, that or he would just drink scalding hot chocolate and burn himself as a punishment.
“A personal favorite,” Kurt was smiling, though, so that had to count for something. “Too bad they’d never let us sing it together, though.”
The frown that creased his face had nothing to do with confusion at Kurt’s words, though that’s how the other boy interpreted it. It was confusion as to why Kurt thought they wouldn’t be allowed to perform the song together. Well, maybe not here, admittedly, but one day when they both ran away to big cities full of acceptance and people like them, they could sing it all they wanted. But rather than tell Kurt all about his rather unrealistic and slightly stalker-ish daydreams about the pair of them eloping to Iowa, he just made a noise of understanding and asked, “So you gonna help me out here?”
“Anything to get me to stop reading about Charlemagne.”
“Very good, then,” he closed Kurt’s book for him, already standing up to turn on the music. He didn’t trust himself to keep talking any longer. He just needed to get the music on, now, and hope that Kurt would be able to see through this shaky and completely false pretense. Because, really, Blaine could have gone to any of the boys to rehearse, and he picks Kurt? Hopefully Kurt would think something of that, at least.
He started the music, doing a couple shuffling dance steps towards Kurt, gesturing for him to start the song. And when he did, Blaine felt all pretenses fade away. It didn’t matter how he had gotten Kurt to sing the song. All that mattered was the two of them singing the song together. And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
He let his voice linger subtly on the terms of endearment throughout the song, eyes locked on Kurt for almost the entire time. The boy was a whole new person when he performed - and Blaine meant really performed, not singing washed-out versions of Broadway showstoppers in an attempt to land a solo. But then, maybe this wasn’t really a performance, because there was nothing fake about the way he was singing, so maybe there was nothing fake about the way Kurt was singing either.
And the other boy really seemed to be having a good time. He danced around the room, letting Blaine chase him, catch up with him, then chase him again. His voice had a coyness to it that made something shift in Blaine’s stomach. (Though it was probably just the jittery butterflies again.) The way Kurt shied away from eye contact and the way his cheeks were flushed told Blaine that this did mean something to him. If the way his cheeks flared redder than before when Blaine caught his arm, spun him in, and sang, “Ooh, your lips are delicious,” with his breath ghosting across Kurt’s lips was anything to go off of, there was definitely a mutual attraction.
Kurt was positively glowing by the time they collapsed on the sofa together, still lost in the moment of the song as they looked at each other. He was smiling, too, and not one of those tight-lipped smiles that he had perfected. This was the kind of smile that he only used when he wasn’t thinking about it. This was his I’m-so-happy-that-I-don’t-even-care-that-you-can-see-my-teeth-for-once smile, the kind that Blaine loved best.
They blinked and broke eye contact in unison, both looking away from the other as a little nervous cough worked its way up from Blaine's throat. He forced himself to keep his hands away from the hair behind his ear, looking back at Kurt as the boy said, “I think you’re ready.”
His smile faded slightly as he remembered that stupid, idiotic, bullshit story he had used as a cover. All hopes of them being caught in the moment and forgetting the pretenses were abandoned, and Blaine looked away, not entirely sure how this was supposed to segue into him telling Kurt that he might be kind of in love with him.
“Well, for the record,” he said, giving a little sigh and standing up, “you are much better than that girl’s gonna be.” He winked as he moved around the sofa to pick up the boom box, wondering frantically if there was any way to salvage this failed plan. He almost set the boom box back down, ready to confess the whole thing, but there was suddenly a man at the door. Blaine recognized him as New Directions’ director, but that didn’t explain why he was here, two hours away from McKinley, at Dalton coming into this room right as he was about to confess his undying, rainbow-covered, Disney love.
But Blaine was still a gentleman, so he smiled at the man, continuing in his trek towards the door, muttering a polite, “Hi,” which the man returned. As soon as he was out of the man’s line of sight, his face darkened. Great timing, McKinley man. Thanks a lot. He set the boom box down on one of the tables lining the hallway, leaning his head back against the wall and doing one of those pathetic, clichéd, slow-motion slide-down-the-wall things that you see in every chick flick ever.
He could hear Kurt laughing with the man in there, both clearly happy to see each other. Blaine felt bitter and upset and he half-wanted to listen in on a conversation where Kurt chewed the man out for not standing up for him back at McKinley, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This man had just driven two hours just to see Kurt, and even if there was resentment, Kurt wasn’t the type to give him a hard time.
“Good to see you, Kurt,” the man said, and Blaine could hear the smile in his voice. Then, “Someone special?”
Blaine’s ears were suddenly hyper-sensitive to noise. There was a weird buzzing in his head and the jittery butterflies from before were probably engaging in a re-enactment of the Civil War or something, because it was almost painful. And since when had the heating vent been so noisy?
“No, just a friend,” Kurt all but sighed, and Blaine’s eyes closed, head drooping to rest on his knees. “But on the upside, I’m in love with him and he’s actually gay. Call that progress.”
It took every ounce of self-restraint that Blaine had to not burst back into the room, grab Kurt, and eat his face.
Instead, he somehow managed to stand up, pick up the boom box, and walk silently down the hall, grinning so wide that it was physically painful. When he reached the end of the hallway and turned down towards the main entrance, he started running.
Blaine threw the doors open, bursting out of the building and skipping through the snow, feeling so lighthearted that he could probably start flying if he tried hard enough. He started humming the chorus to A Wonderful Guy as he skipped back towards his dorm building, actually breaking into the chorus once he was inside.
One of the seniors was standing on a stepladder, putting up sprigs of mistletoe. Blaine danced past him, not even stopping to give an explanation for his behavior, singing the entire way up to his room.
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CLICK ME FOR PART TWO.