"Revolution" (Kurt and Artie gen)
I'm still reposting stuff from ff.net. This is the last one. It's a little less relevant, post-"Wheels," but I still think it makes sense.
Title: Revolution
Author: chronic_lady
Character(s): Kurt, Artie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,561
Spoilers: None
Summary: Kurt and Artie have a man-to-man.
Artie is on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him, the unplugged electric guitar held close to his body. Kurt could hear him playing from out in the hall, but it's not until he's standing in the door of the empty music classroom that he can make out what Artie is singing in his solid tenor, almost under his breath: “'You say you got a real solution, well, you know. We'd all love to see the plan.'”
He breaks off when he sees Kurt in the doorway. His very unfortunate pleated jeans have ridden up, showing more of his socks than usual, but his position looks comfortable and his chair is upright a few feet away, like it's waiting for him. He must be sitting there on purpose.
“What happened to jazz band practice?”
“Not sure.” Artie grins up at him. “Mr. Dixon's AWOL. The other kids left already.”
“So he just didn't show?”
“My best guess is he's smoking up behind the equipment shed with Coach Tanaka.”
“Well. That would explain a lot about football today.” Kurt brushes his hand across his smooth wet hair. He loves the feeling of his own clothes and a shower after practice. “Do you think I can get a ride from your mom?”
“Sure. She's coming at 4:30.”
“I'll keep you company.” Kurt looks at the dirty white linoleum. There's no way. He briefly considers sitting in the vacant wheelchair, but that seems wrong. He settles for the piano bench instead, straddling it to face Artie. “Did someone help you get down there?”
“No.” Artie doesn't look insulted, but then, he never does.
“My bad. I see Tina pushing you around all the time,” he says, to explain himself.
“True. She does do that. But not because I need her to.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not really. I mean, she's my friend and she's having a rough time right now. I think it's comforting for her to have some area of her life she can control. Or something like that.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow, picturing Tina C. in her bondage pants with the chains, and makes a whip-crack sound with his mouth. “Is that how it is?”
“OK, that came out wrong. You know what I mean.” Artie gently lifts the guitar out of his lap and lays it down on the floor next to him. “She needs someone to take care of, I guess.”
“Do you like her?”
“I don't know. Do I have to, just because she likes me?”
It's hard for Kurt not to be jealous of all the straight kids at school. It seems to him like it should be so easy for them to figure out their Dawson's Creek messes and be happy. Ever since the thing with Mercedes, though, he's realized that it's not that simple for everyone. Some of them don't have that many options, not when everyone around here is dumb and shallow and sixteen. A couple of times, he thinks he's seen Artie stealing glances at the side of the room where Santana Lopez sits, and that's never going to happen for him, not in high school at least.
“No, you don't,” Kurt says. “But it's probably something you and Tina should work out or things will get messy -- believe me.”
“I didn't say I didn't like her, necessarily.”
“Is 'Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat', like, your personal motto now?”
“I did sing it for my try-out. It's a great song, dramatic irony or no.”
“And here I always thought you were so incredibly well-adjusted.”
“Oh, I am. Incredibly. What did you audition with?”
“'Mr. Cellophane.'” Kurt stands, hands on hips. “You know. 'Cause you can look right through me -'”
“Hey,” Artie says. The bantering tone is gone, all of a sudden. He looks pained. “That's not true.” Absently, he touches the guitar next to him, scraping his thumbnail up the low E string. “I've been wanting to say. I saw them throw you in that dumpster. More than once. And I never tried to do anything about it. But I saw you.”
If there's anyone at McKinley who Kurt doesn't blame for not protecting him, it's Artie Abrams. He doesn't know what to say. He shrugs gracefully. “Well. I heard they locked you in a Porta-Potty.”
“That's different. They pushed my chair in there, you know, and maybe they were going to tip it, but no one's ever going to touch me, not really.” Artie waves a hand toward his legs. “They don't want to see me out of the chair, ever. Just the idea freaks everybody out. I'm off-limits.”
Maybe he's right. Still, what could he have done against the football team?
Artie catches his eye, probably guessing what he's thinking. “There's no good excuse for not being brave, Kurt.”
Artie's hands are in his lap, fingers loosely curled. Kurt doesn't need this apology. He's waiting for one from Puck, but he's not holding his breath, obviously. He chooses to think of Artie and the rest of the Glee kids - the real Glee kids, Tina and Mercedes and Rachel - as allies and covictims, not collaborators. He needs to. It's the only way he can stand it.
The yellow bike gloves totally clash with Artie's shirt. If it were him, Kurt thinks irrelevantly, he'd probably have about twenty different pairs.
“Why did you choose this part?” he asks. “'When you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me OUT?'” He sings the words, an octave higher than John Lennon. “How depressing.”
“Oh, it's not for me,” Artie says. “I just like the guitar solo. Finn'll sound good, don't you think?”
“What's that supposed to mean?” He sounds defensive because of course he can imagine it. Practically all thinks about these days is Finn singing -- in the huddle, in the shower, on stage, in bed. Right now in his mind, he hears Finn doing the “Oh oh oh, AHHHH'LL right” part from the White Album Sessions version of the song. It's humiliating.
Finn was the one who let Artie out of the Porta-Potty, but Kurt doesn't say that. “I think you should tell Mr. Schue that you want to sing it.”
Artie picks up the Gibson again and strums a chord, ignoring him. “My guitar solo still needs some more work, but I think it would be a good song for the group.”
“Do you ever miss singing lead?”
“Nope.”
Apparently, Artie is the one person in Glee Club completely without ego. But he still needs someone to call him on his shit every once in a while.
“Yes, it's a bitching guitar part,” Kurt says. “By the time you show all of them what you can do with it, they'll be so impressed they won't feel guilty parking you in the corner next to the drum kit.” He flicks a speck of dirt from his immaculate khakis. “No one will think twice about bothering to choreograph for you, will they?”
Artie rolls his eyes. “Which is, after all, my secret goal.”
“It is,” Kurt says. He knows it's true. The boy looks ridiculous when he's dancing, but Kurt can see his potential, the true way he follows the rhythm with his body. It makes him sad - not that Artie can't walk, but the fact that he won't take himself seriously. He could be a good, if he tried - or better at least. “Please don't think you're holding us back. We like having you in the dance numbers. It makes it more complicated sometimes, figuring out moves you can do, but -” here, Kurt mimes throwing up on the piano “- our limitations end up making us a stronger ensemble, right?”
“Right. All of us freaks should be proud of who we are.” Artie pretends to throw up too, but they sit there in silence together for a minute, thinking about that.
“You are,” Artie says, finally. “Proud of who you are. And you're braver than anyone else in Glee. Or any of those football assholes,” he adds pointedly. “You deserve better.”
“What you you mean?”
“Don't cut anyone any slack he doesn't deserve, OK.”
“You're one to talk.”
Artie grins at him again, adjusting his glasses. “I'm just saying.”
He is not Kurt's type at all, but Kurt likes that big white unselfconscious smile. “You really should consider different frames.”
“Duly noted.” Artie reaches for the wheelchair, positioning it closer to him.
“Need a hand?”
“Just take the guitar for a sec.”
Kurt holds it by the neck while Artie sets the breaks on his chair and pulls himself up. It doesn't take him long at all.
“Someday you're going to snap,” Kurt says. “If you keep letting people do things to you. Pushing you around.”
“Yeah, sure,” Artie says, putting his guitar in its case. “We all want to change the world.”
(the end)
Title: Revolution
Author: chronic_lady
Character(s): Kurt, Artie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,561
Spoilers: None
Summary: Kurt and Artie have a man-to-man.
Artie is on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him, the unplugged electric guitar held close to his body. Kurt could hear him playing from out in the hall, but it's not until he's standing in the door of the empty music classroom that he can make out what Artie is singing in his solid tenor, almost under his breath: “'You say you got a real solution, well, you know. We'd all love to see the plan.'”
He breaks off when he sees Kurt in the doorway. His very unfortunate pleated jeans have ridden up, showing more of his socks than usual, but his position looks comfortable and his chair is upright a few feet away, like it's waiting for him. He must be sitting there on purpose.
“What happened to jazz band practice?”
“Not sure.” Artie grins up at him. “Mr. Dixon's AWOL. The other kids left already.”
“So he just didn't show?”
“My best guess is he's smoking up behind the equipment shed with Coach Tanaka.”
“Well. That would explain a lot about football today.” Kurt brushes his hand across his smooth wet hair. He loves the feeling of his own clothes and a shower after practice. “Do you think I can get a ride from your mom?”
“Sure. She's coming at 4:30.”
“I'll keep you company.” Kurt looks at the dirty white linoleum. There's no way. He briefly considers sitting in the vacant wheelchair, but that seems wrong. He settles for the piano bench instead, straddling it to face Artie. “Did someone help you get down there?”
“No.” Artie doesn't look insulted, but then, he never does.
“My bad. I see Tina pushing you around all the time,” he says, to explain himself.
“True. She does do that. But not because I need her to.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not really. I mean, she's my friend and she's having a rough time right now. I think it's comforting for her to have some area of her life she can control. Or something like that.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow, picturing Tina C. in her bondage pants with the chains, and makes a whip-crack sound with his mouth. “Is that how it is?”
“OK, that came out wrong. You know what I mean.” Artie gently lifts the guitar out of his lap and lays it down on the floor next to him. “She needs someone to take care of, I guess.”
“Do you like her?”
“I don't know. Do I have to, just because she likes me?”
It's hard for Kurt not to be jealous of all the straight kids at school. It seems to him like it should be so easy for them to figure out their Dawson's Creek messes and be happy. Ever since the thing with Mercedes, though, he's realized that it's not that simple for everyone. Some of them don't have that many options, not when everyone around here is dumb and shallow and sixteen. A couple of times, he thinks he's seen Artie stealing glances at the side of the room where Santana Lopez sits, and that's never going to happen for him, not in high school at least.
“No, you don't,” Kurt says. “But it's probably something you and Tina should work out or things will get messy -- believe me.”
“I didn't say I didn't like her, necessarily.”
“Is 'Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat', like, your personal motto now?”
“I did sing it for my try-out. It's a great song, dramatic irony or no.”
“And here I always thought you were so incredibly well-adjusted.”
“Oh, I am. Incredibly. What did you audition with?”
“'Mr. Cellophane.'” Kurt stands, hands on hips. “You know. 'Cause you can look right through me -'”
“Hey,” Artie says. The bantering tone is gone, all of a sudden. He looks pained. “That's not true.” Absently, he touches the guitar next to him, scraping his thumbnail up the low E string. “I've been wanting to say. I saw them throw you in that dumpster. More than once. And I never tried to do anything about it. But I saw you.”
If there's anyone at McKinley who Kurt doesn't blame for not protecting him, it's Artie Abrams. He doesn't know what to say. He shrugs gracefully. “Well. I heard they locked you in a Porta-Potty.”
“That's different. They pushed my chair in there, you know, and maybe they were going to tip it, but no one's ever going to touch me, not really.” Artie waves a hand toward his legs. “They don't want to see me out of the chair, ever. Just the idea freaks everybody out. I'm off-limits.”
Maybe he's right. Still, what could he have done against the football team?
Artie catches his eye, probably guessing what he's thinking. “There's no good excuse for not being brave, Kurt.”
Artie's hands are in his lap, fingers loosely curled. Kurt doesn't need this apology. He's waiting for one from Puck, but he's not holding his breath, obviously. He chooses to think of Artie and the rest of the Glee kids - the real Glee kids, Tina and Mercedes and Rachel - as allies and covictims, not collaborators. He needs to. It's the only way he can stand it.
The yellow bike gloves totally clash with Artie's shirt. If it were him, Kurt thinks irrelevantly, he'd probably have about twenty different pairs.
“Why did you choose this part?” he asks. “'When you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me OUT?'” He sings the words, an octave higher than John Lennon. “How depressing.”
“Oh, it's not for me,” Artie says. “I just like the guitar solo. Finn'll sound good, don't you think?”
“What's that supposed to mean?” He sounds defensive because of course he can imagine it. Practically all thinks about these days is Finn singing -- in the huddle, in the shower, on stage, in bed. Right now in his mind, he hears Finn doing the “Oh oh oh, AHHHH'LL right” part from the White Album Sessions version of the song. It's humiliating.
Finn was the one who let Artie out of the Porta-Potty, but Kurt doesn't say that. “I think you should tell Mr. Schue that you want to sing it.”
Artie picks up the Gibson again and strums a chord, ignoring him. “My guitar solo still needs some more work, but I think it would be a good song for the group.”
“Do you ever miss singing lead?”
“Nope.”
Apparently, Artie is the one person in Glee Club completely without ego. But he still needs someone to call him on his shit every once in a while.
“Yes, it's a bitching guitar part,” Kurt says. “By the time you show all of them what you can do with it, they'll be so impressed they won't feel guilty parking you in the corner next to the drum kit.” He flicks a speck of dirt from his immaculate khakis. “No one will think twice about bothering to choreograph for you, will they?”
Artie rolls his eyes. “Which is, after all, my secret goal.”
“It is,” Kurt says. He knows it's true. The boy looks ridiculous when he's dancing, but Kurt can see his potential, the true way he follows the rhythm with his body. It makes him sad - not that Artie can't walk, but the fact that he won't take himself seriously. He could be a good, if he tried - or better at least. “Please don't think you're holding us back. We like having you in the dance numbers. It makes it more complicated sometimes, figuring out moves you can do, but -” here, Kurt mimes throwing up on the piano “- our limitations end up making us a stronger ensemble, right?”
“Right. All of us freaks should be proud of who we are.” Artie pretends to throw up too, but they sit there in silence together for a minute, thinking about that.
“You are,” Artie says, finally. “Proud of who you are. And you're braver than anyone else in Glee. Or any of those football assholes,” he adds pointedly. “You deserve better.”
“What you you mean?”
“Don't cut anyone any slack he doesn't deserve, OK.”
“You're one to talk.”
Artie grins at him again, adjusting his glasses. “I'm just saying.”
He is not Kurt's type at all, but Kurt likes that big white unselfconscious smile. “You really should consider different frames.”
“Duly noted.” Artie reaches for the wheelchair, positioning it closer to him.
“Need a hand?”
“Just take the guitar for a sec.”
Kurt holds it by the neck while Artie sets the breaks on his chair and pulls himself up. It doesn't take him long at all.
“Someday you're going to snap,” Kurt says. “If you keep letting people do things to you. Pushing you around.”
“Yeah, sure,” Artie says, putting his guitar in its case. “We all want to change the world.”
(the end)