Fic Glee: Burn This Town Down Tonight (2/4), Lauren/Puck, ensemble (Marching Band AU)
Title: Burn This Town Down Tonight
Author: escritoireazul
Written for: sotto_voice who loves marching band AUs.
Characters/Pairings: Lauren Zizes/Noah Puckerman, Tina Cohen-Chang/Mike Chang, Mercedes Jones, Quinn Fabray, Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Matt Rutherford, Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez, Brittany S. Pierce, Sam Evans, Will Schuester (later stories will include Blaine/Kurt, Santana/Brittany, and Artie Abrams, plus other pairings)
Author's note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Glee. It is also an alternate universe in which they are all in marching band instead of glee club. I've played pretty fast with their ages, but most of the glee club members we know are juniors, except for Matt, a senior. This is story one.
Rating: 16+ for underage sexual activity
Word count: 13,500+
Summary: You'd think by now they would be prepared for how wild band camp gets, but Lauren Zizes didn't see these two weeks coming.
Burn This Town Down Tonight
Part One LJ, DW | Part Two LJ, DW
Part Three LJ, DW | Part Four LJ, DW
2.
Drumline and color guard are the last two sections off the field for lunch break, too. Tina angles over the fifty yard line at a diagonal to catch up with Lauren, and together they cross the track surrounding the practice field and toward the shed where the drumline and the color guard locks up their equipment during lunch breaks.
Once Lauren sets her quads on their stand and Tina tucks her practice flag into the corner where she’ll be able to grab it quickly, they head out, looking for the others. Only Mercedes is waiting for them in the parking lot, and the gravel crunches under their feet as they head toward her, already too tired to talk much.
Mercedes has her head down, looking at something on her phone, but when they reach her big SUV, she looks up and pulls a face. “Whoever decided band camp should be in August sucks. It’s so fucking hot.”
“Sing it,” Tina says and slumps against the SUV on one side of her, Lauren on the other. “It’s been a long summer.”
“You gonna give us any details?” Lauren asks. She pulls off her sunglasses so she can swipe at her face with the edge of her t-shirt, then shoves them back into place, because it is way too bright to go without.
“Details about what?” Mercedes asks. She clicks something on her phone and shoves it into her pocket. “You’d better start talking.”
“Over lunch,” Tina promises. “Let’s go to Sonic so no one can overhear us.”
Lauren looks around for their missing friends. Quinn’s with Wes and David, talking about whatever the hell drum majors talk about. She doesn’t have a whole lot of respect for them. Quinn’s her girl, and she’s got her back, but all drum majors do is stand there and wave their arms. Everyone knows the drumline is the rhythm of the band, the sound that keeps everyone on beat.
Finally Quinn pulls herself away and heads toward them. She’s actually wearing a shirt that covers the waistband of her pants, not the mid-drift baring tank tops she used to wear, and Lauren is suddenly struck by the way Quinn sort of frames her stomach with her arms, protecting herself even now.
She glances over at Mercedes and Tina quickly, not sure if she’s actually seeing what she thinks she is. They’re watching Quinn too, their expressions serious.
“Our poor girl,” Mercedes says, her voice low, and then Quinn is close enough to hear them, so they don’t say anything else about it.
“Where’s Kurt?” Tina asks, shifting her weight. “I’m starving.”
Mercedes rolls her eyes and jerks her hand toward the cluster of boys standing around on the track. Hudson’s the tallest and he stands out, especially when he laughs long and loud at something someone else says, but she quickly picks out Kurt next to him.
“Brotherly bonding?” Tina asks. Kurt’s dad married Finn’s mom back in May, and it was an interesting part of summer, watching as the Hudmels (so named by Mercedes, whose love for portmanteaus has lead to stranger names) tried to become a family. Kurt still complains a lot about straight boys being gross, but mostly he seems pretty happy.
Mercedes laughs. “That’s his cover. Really he’s checking out the new boy.”
“New boy?” Lauren squints, trying to pick him out. There’s a couple freshman hanging around, looking way younger than everyone else, but then Hudson moves just right, and she gets an eyeful of some guy she doesn’t know, his dark hair curly and his mouth turned up in a wide open grin. He’s not a freshman, that’s for damn sure. “Where’d he transfer from?”
“Dalton, that prep school down in Westerville,” Quinn says, and they all turn to look at her sharply. This time last year, it wouldn’t have been a surprise for her to have the best gossip already, but many things have changed. “Wes is friends with him.”
“Wait, what? Wes has friends?” Mercedes teases, then raises her eyebrows. “And he just told you all about him?”
Quinn shrugs. “His name’s Blaine.”
“Oh!” Tina turns to look at him again and nods. “I thought he looked familiar. My parents know his parents. I’ve seen pictures of him at their house. The Asian community’s pretty tight around here.”
“So why’d he go to Dalton?” Lauren asks.
Mercedes snorts. “Why’d he leave to come here?”
Tina shakes her head. “I’ve never met him, just his parents.”
As one, they all turn to Quinn again. She’s rubbing her stomach absentmindedly; when they look at her, she stops and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Wes didn’t say. He was more interested in talking about all the instruments Blaine plays. There’re a lot, apparently.”
“Sounds like Wes has a bit of a crush.”
“He’s not the only one. Kurt took one look at him when we got here, said he was gay, and took off to see what else he could find out.” Mercedes grins. “He’ll be pissed you hit up an excellent resource before he did, Q.”
Quinn bites her lower lip, but doesn’t say anything else.
“Dude, he’s taking forever.” Lauren steps forward and cups her hands around her mouth. “Yo, Hummel, get your little woodwind ass in gear, we’re headed out.” He’s not too far away to see his shoulders go tense or the serious fuck off look he shoots her way.
Blaine says something to him that has Kurt turning around fast. Lauren slumps against the SUV again and tilts back her head, staring up at the sky. There are no clouds, just an unending expanse of blue and the searing sun.
She’s got spots in her vision when she looks down again, and she blinks hard to clear them. That’s when she catches Puck watching them. He’s wearing sunglasses now too, but she’s pretty sure he’s not looking at her this time. Quinn’s got one hand on her stomach again, and Lauren would bet a lot of money that his eyes are there.
And that’s just another reason she needs to nip these stupid emotions right in the bud. What a freaking mess they all are.
Kurt finally joins them, but he’s not alone. “This is Blaine,” he says. “He’s marching a bari sax, can you believe it? He’s a junior too, a transfer.” He spins through their names and sections fast.
Lauren squints at him, because damn, that’s a heavy saxophone for marching, and he’s pretty scrawny.
“Hi.” Blaine’s grin is friendly and easy despite the way they’re all staring at him. He doesn’t look too stressed to be the new guy, even though it has to be hard to change schools halfway through high school, to try to join a band made up of scared little freshman and groups of friends already firmly established. “Do you mind if I join you for lunch?”
They don’t, of course, especially not when Kurt keeps looking at him with this hopeful, yearning look that he promptly hides about half a second after he does it. He even gives up the front seat to Lauren, which is just another sign of how bad he’s got it already, because Mercedes is his girl and so he always gets shotgun.
(Sometimes Lauren wonders if Quinn ever feels left out. It’s been Mercedes&Kurt and Lauren&Tina and just Quinn for as long as they’ve been friends, but Lauren doesn’t know if Quinn’s ever wished for a best friend of her own to round things out. As much as they’re friends, Quinn is cool and unruffled and plays things close to her chest.)
In the backseat, Tina and Blaine talk a little about the people they both know while Kurt watches them just a little too close. Mercedes turns up the radio with a vicious twist of the knob. Her mouth is set in a thin line.
Oh, shit. Mercedes swore she was over her crush on Kurt, but then, Kurt hasn’t looked at a guy the way he’s looking at Blaine, not since that weird month when he was strangely fixated on Finn. (Thank god that ended. How weird would it be if they were hooking up and then their parents got married? She’s read a lot of super hot fic about just that, but it doesn’t hold the same appeal when one of the guys is her friend.) If Lauren were Tina, she’d reach over and hold Mercedes’ hand and whisper something helpful and sweet and understanding, but she’s not, so she crosses her arms over her chest and stares out the window.
Sometimes, she thinks she fails at being a friend.
#
They end up at Wendy’s instead, because it has a salad Kurt will eat without too much complaining, and the privacy of Sonic doesn’t really matter now that Blaine’s tagging along. They won’t get the good gossip out of Tina with him around.
Blaine is nice enough, friendly, and he easily engages Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes in conversation. Quinn focuses hard on her fries, and Lauren doesn’t talk to strangers, thank you very much. But she does listen.
“Did you march bari sax at your old school?” Kurt asks and takes a sip of his bottled water.
“We didn’t have a marching band. I didn’t think I would march here, but I wanted to play in concert band, and Mr. Schuester said I have to participate both semesters.”
“Yeah, that’s his way of making sure he doesn’t lose half his musicians when marching band ends.”
“Really? People would rather march than perform perfect arrangements in a concert hall?” Blaine looks honestly perplexed by this.
“You really haven’t marched before, have you?” Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Boy, you are in for a whole new world.”
“You like it that much?”
“You have no idea.” Mercedes shares a little grin with Kurt.
“And it’s adorable that you think McKinley is going to give you concert halls,” Kurt adds. “More like gyms that still smell like sweat.”
“Oh.” Blaine slurps some soda, but when he’s done drinking, he’s smiling again. “Tell me, what’s so wonderful about marching band?”
They all rush to tell him.
Kurt: Big, showy performances, and the cheers from the crowd.
Mercedes: The wail of that perfect trumpet solo, played by yours truly.
Kurt: Winning lots of trophies.
Quinn: Perfect formations on the field.
Tina: Spinning things.
(Lauren elbows her and mouths hot dancers. Tina grins and elbows her right back.)
Mercedes: That moment of anticipation right before our fearless leaders call us to attention and count off.
Tina: Dancing to pep band music in the stands.
Quinn: Cheering even though the football team sucks.
(She looks a little sad, and Lauren puts her hand on Quinn’s wrist, a light, brief touch.)
Kurt: Designing the color guard uniforms.
Blaine looks at Lauren expectantly. She doesn’t talk to strangers, and what she says is far too personal to give him, but she hears herself say it anyway, caught up in her friends’ enthusiasm.
Lauren: Being the heartbeat of the band.
(It’s true the drumline is the driving pulse of any marching band, but even as she says it, she realizes she’s not just thinking about her role, or the drumline as a whole, but also of the deep bass of the biggest bass drum, echoing the steady beat of her heart. Goddamnit, she is so screwed.)
Then Mercedes does a little fist pump and shimmy in her chair. “Band parties and bus rides, baby.”
Blaine shrugs and shakes his head a little.
“Oh, you are in for an experience,” Kurt promises him, leaning closer. “Where else will you see heavy brass idiots fall all over themselves for a beer and get the pleasure of doing shots with us?”
“Well if that’s the draw,” Blaine tips his head toward Kurt, “how can I resist?”
Flirting? Tina mouths at Lauren, and Lauren shrugs. Mercedes, watching them, nods a little, trying not to draw attention to herself. Blaine and Kurt grin at each other just a little too long, and then Kurt looks away, flushing.
Mercedes is quick to cover for her boy. “Why’d you leave Dalton?” she asks.
Blaine straightens and shrugs, dragging three fries through ketchup. “Couldn’t stand the uniform anymore.” He laughs it off, but it’s not really an answer. Mercedes and Tina exchange a look, and then Tina glances at Lauren, who gives the shallowest nod she can and catches Quinn’s eyes. There’s a story there, and they want to know what it is.
“Tell me about McKinley,” Blaine says. “Is there a gay-straight alliance? I was in it at my old school, though only a couple of us were out. Or no, that leaves out lesbians.” His nose crinkles a little with his frown. “What do you call it at a co-ed school? Gay-lesbian-straight alliance?” He takes a bite out of his burger, all noncha-fucking-lant, like he’s got no idea what he just said.
And probably, he doesn’t.
“Still leaves out a lot of sexualities,” Tina says and grips her cup so tight the lid pops up on one side. Across the table, Kurt looks down at his salad. Lauren hooks her foot against Tina’s ankle, tucking their legs together. “There’s more than just gay, lesbian, and straight.”
Blaine’s eyes widen, and he chews quickly, swallowing a couple times. “I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, well, no one ever does.” She doesn’t look pointedly at Kurt. She doesn’t have to. The end of the school year party hangs over them, too much alcohol and Kurt’s nasty little comment about bisexual just being a label people used until they were comfortable enough coming out. Tina, normally giddy and dancing when she drank, turned on him for saying something so stupid and told them all she liked girls just as much as guys, thank you very much. She sighs. “No way we’d be allowed to have a queer alliance at school.”
“That sucks,” Blaine says. He sets down his burger. “And I really am sorry.”
Tina carefully presses down the lid to her cup and nods. “Okay.” This time she does look at Kurt, staring hard until he meets her eyes. “It really is okay. We all say cruel stuff without thinking about it sometimes.”
He gives a half-hearted smile, but the silence that follows is still awkward and uncomfortable. The skin on the back of Lauren’s neck feels tight -- or maybe that’s sunburn, she really needs to reapply sunscreen more often -- and no one really looks at each other.
Finally Quinn makes a show of glancing down at her watch. “Finish up,” she says. “We need to head back soon.”
“Yes, because God forbid our precious leader be late returning to her stepstool on the thirty yard line,” Mercedes teases. Quinn sniffs and lifts her chin, looking every inch the ice queen she was this time last year, head cheerleader and first chair flutist and a shoe-in for Homecoming Princess and Valentine’s Day Dance Sweetheart. Then she grins and tosses a fry at Mercedes.
“I do what it takes to keep the minions in line,” she says, and then it’s on.
Well, they won’t be going back to Wendy’s anytime soon after that food fight.
#
They’re playing through a basic cadence for the fiftieth time while the band marches in one big block, working on perfecting their eight to five steps -- even though the freshmen, and Blaine, she guesses, had fundamentals all last week, the rest of the band needs practice before they can start actually doing work -- when Lauren realizes she’s not really paying attention to what she’s doing. She doesn’t need to, she could play this pattern in her sleep, but that’s not what gets to her.
What gets to her is how hard she’s listening for the sound of Puck’s drum. She knows the bass drum parts too, knows each beat that is his, and the fact that she’s focusing on it, the fact that she freaking cares about which beat in each pattern is his, kills her.
#
The sun is setting when Mr. Schue finally calls an end to practice. Once Matt lets the line go, Lauren trudges with the others over to the equipment truck and puts away her quads. Even with a summer of practice, she’s worn out, so tired she can feel it in her goddamn bones.
(Which is, she has to admit, pretty freaky. Bones aren’t supposed to have feelings. And that sounds a lot like Brittany. She’s spending way too much time with the color guard if B’s in her head like that.)
She’s looking around to see if any of her friends need a ride when Puckerman saunters over. He’s between her and her car, so she stops and crosses her arms over her chest. No way in hell he’s going to out stubborn her.
He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, all nonchalant and shit. “Bass line’s headed to Nelson’s. You should come.”
She considers it before she can stop herself. Not to spend time with Puckerman, but she did spend two years marching a bass drum, and she likes the other guys on the line well enough. Nelson’s place is pretty sweet, too. He’s got the whole finished basement to himself, and it’s full of games and speakers and racks of dvds. Hanging out with the guys, drinking beers and killing zombies sounds like a hell of a time.
Puckerman gives her a little grin, her insides twists, and she remembers it’s a bad idea.
“Can’t. I’ve already got plans.” It’s not a lie, either. She just doesn’t elaborate on those plans, which involve the longest, hottest shower ever -- though if Puckerman keeps looking at her like that, all hopeful and slightly smirking and just plain sexy as hell, she’ll need a cold shower instead -- and faceplanting on her bed for awhile.
His face falls, the smile gone, but then he shrugs. “Whatever. Later, Zizes.”
No fucking way Puckerman gets upset at being shot down, but she can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s hurt his feelings. She hooks one hand along the back of her neck, kneading her fingers into her skin. Shower, faceplant, and some really loud music. Maybe then she can ignore all these damn unwanted feelings.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/330270.html with
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Author: escritoireazul
Written for: sotto_voice who loves marching band AUs.
Characters/Pairings: Lauren Zizes/Noah Puckerman, Tina Cohen-Chang/Mike Chang, Mercedes Jones, Quinn Fabray, Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Matt Rutherford, Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez, Brittany S. Pierce, Sam Evans, Will Schuester (later stories will include Blaine/Kurt, Santana/Brittany, and Artie Abrams, plus other pairings)
Author's note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Glee. It is also an alternate universe in which they are all in marching band instead of glee club. I've played pretty fast with their ages, but most of the glee club members we know are juniors, except for Matt, a senior. This is story one.
Rating: 16+ for underage sexual activity
Word count: 13,500+
Summary: You'd think by now they would be prepared for how wild band camp gets, but Lauren Zizes didn't see these two weeks coming.
Burn This Town Down Tonight
Part One LJ, DW | Part Two LJ, DW
Part Three LJ, DW | Part Four LJ, DW
2.
Drumline and color guard are the last two sections off the field for lunch break, too. Tina angles over the fifty yard line at a diagonal to catch up with Lauren, and together they cross the track surrounding the practice field and toward the shed where the drumline and the color guard locks up their equipment during lunch breaks.
Once Lauren sets her quads on their stand and Tina tucks her practice flag into the corner where she’ll be able to grab it quickly, they head out, looking for the others. Only Mercedes is waiting for them in the parking lot, and the gravel crunches under their feet as they head toward her, already too tired to talk much.
Mercedes has her head down, looking at something on her phone, but when they reach her big SUV, she looks up and pulls a face. “Whoever decided band camp should be in August sucks. It’s so fucking hot.”
“Sing it,” Tina says and slumps against the SUV on one side of her, Lauren on the other. “It’s been a long summer.”
“You gonna give us any details?” Lauren asks. She pulls off her sunglasses so she can swipe at her face with the edge of her t-shirt, then shoves them back into place, because it is way too bright to go without.
“Details about what?” Mercedes asks. She clicks something on her phone and shoves it into her pocket. “You’d better start talking.”
“Over lunch,” Tina promises. “Let’s go to Sonic so no one can overhear us.”
Lauren looks around for their missing friends. Quinn’s with Wes and David, talking about whatever the hell drum majors talk about. She doesn’t have a whole lot of respect for them. Quinn’s her girl, and she’s got her back, but all drum majors do is stand there and wave their arms. Everyone knows the drumline is the rhythm of the band, the sound that keeps everyone on beat.
Finally Quinn pulls herself away and heads toward them. She’s actually wearing a shirt that covers the waistband of her pants, not the mid-drift baring tank tops she used to wear, and Lauren is suddenly struck by the way Quinn sort of frames her stomach with her arms, protecting herself even now.
She glances over at Mercedes and Tina quickly, not sure if she’s actually seeing what she thinks she is. They’re watching Quinn too, their expressions serious.
“Our poor girl,” Mercedes says, her voice low, and then Quinn is close enough to hear them, so they don’t say anything else about it.
“Where’s Kurt?” Tina asks, shifting her weight. “I’m starving.”
Mercedes rolls her eyes and jerks her hand toward the cluster of boys standing around on the track. Hudson’s the tallest and he stands out, especially when he laughs long and loud at something someone else says, but she quickly picks out Kurt next to him.
“Brotherly bonding?” Tina asks. Kurt’s dad married Finn’s mom back in May, and it was an interesting part of summer, watching as the Hudmels (so named by Mercedes, whose love for portmanteaus has lead to stranger names) tried to become a family. Kurt still complains a lot about straight boys being gross, but mostly he seems pretty happy.
Mercedes laughs. “That’s his cover. Really he’s checking out the new boy.”
“New boy?” Lauren squints, trying to pick him out. There’s a couple freshman hanging around, looking way younger than everyone else, but then Hudson moves just right, and she gets an eyeful of some guy she doesn’t know, his dark hair curly and his mouth turned up in a wide open grin. He’s not a freshman, that’s for damn sure. “Where’d he transfer from?”
“Dalton, that prep school down in Westerville,” Quinn says, and they all turn to look at her sharply. This time last year, it wouldn’t have been a surprise for her to have the best gossip already, but many things have changed. “Wes is friends with him.”
“Wait, what? Wes has friends?” Mercedes teases, then raises her eyebrows. “And he just told you all about him?”
Quinn shrugs. “His name’s Blaine.”
“Oh!” Tina turns to look at him again and nods. “I thought he looked familiar. My parents know his parents. I’ve seen pictures of him at their house. The Asian community’s pretty tight around here.”
“So why’d he go to Dalton?” Lauren asks.
Mercedes snorts. “Why’d he leave to come here?”
Tina shakes her head. “I’ve never met him, just his parents.”
As one, they all turn to Quinn again. She’s rubbing her stomach absentmindedly; when they look at her, she stops and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Wes didn’t say. He was more interested in talking about all the instruments Blaine plays. There’re a lot, apparently.”
“Sounds like Wes has a bit of a crush.”
“He’s not the only one. Kurt took one look at him when we got here, said he was gay, and took off to see what else he could find out.” Mercedes grins. “He’ll be pissed you hit up an excellent resource before he did, Q.”
Quinn bites her lower lip, but doesn’t say anything else.
“Dude, he’s taking forever.” Lauren steps forward and cups her hands around her mouth. “Yo, Hummel, get your little woodwind ass in gear, we’re headed out.” He’s not too far away to see his shoulders go tense or the serious fuck off look he shoots her way.
Blaine says something to him that has Kurt turning around fast. Lauren slumps against the SUV again and tilts back her head, staring up at the sky. There are no clouds, just an unending expanse of blue and the searing sun.
She’s got spots in her vision when she looks down again, and she blinks hard to clear them. That’s when she catches Puck watching them. He’s wearing sunglasses now too, but she’s pretty sure he’s not looking at her this time. Quinn’s got one hand on her stomach again, and Lauren would bet a lot of money that his eyes are there.
And that’s just another reason she needs to nip these stupid emotions right in the bud. What a freaking mess they all are.
Kurt finally joins them, but he’s not alone. “This is Blaine,” he says. “He’s marching a bari sax, can you believe it? He’s a junior too, a transfer.” He spins through their names and sections fast.
Lauren squints at him, because damn, that’s a heavy saxophone for marching, and he’s pretty scrawny.
“Hi.” Blaine’s grin is friendly and easy despite the way they’re all staring at him. He doesn’t look too stressed to be the new guy, even though it has to be hard to change schools halfway through high school, to try to join a band made up of scared little freshman and groups of friends already firmly established. “Do you mind if I join you for lunch?”
They don’t, of course, especially not when Kurt keeps looking at him with this hopeful, yearning look that he promptly hides about half a second after he does it. He even gives up the front seat to Lauren, which is just another sign of how bad he’s got it already, because Mercedes is his girl and so he always gets shotgun.
(Sometimes Lauren wonders if Quinn ever feels left out. It’s been Mercedes&Kurt and Lauren&Tina and just Quinn for as long as they’ve been friends, but Lauren doesn’t know if Quinn’s ever wished for a best friend of her own to round things out. As much as they’re friends, Quinn is cool and unruffled and plays things close to her chest.)
In the backseat, Tina and Blaine talk a little about the people they both know while Kurt watches them just a little too close. Mercedes turns up the radio with a vicious twist of the knob. Her mouth is set in a thin line.
Oh, shit. Mercedes swore she was over her crush on Kurt, but then, Kurt hasn’t looked at a guy the way he’s looking at Blaine, not since that weird month when he was strangely fixated on Finn. (Thank god that ended. How weird would it be if they were hooking up and then their parents got married? She’s read a lot of super hot fic about just that, but it doesn’t hold the same appeal when one of the guys is her friend.) If Lauren were Tina, she’d reach over and hold Mercedes’ hand and whisper something helpful and sweet and understanding, but she’s not, so she crosses her arms over her chest and stares out the window.
Sometimes, she thinks she fails at being a friend.
#
They end up at Wendy’s instead, because it has a salad Kurt will eat without too much complaining, and the privacy of Sonic doesn’t really matter now that Blaine’s tagging along. They won’t get the good gossip out of Tina with him around.
Blaine is nice enough, friendly, and he easily engages Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes in conversation. Quinn focuses hard on her fries, and Lauren doesn’t talk to strangers, thank you very much. But she does listen.
“Did you march bari sax at your old school?” Kurt asks and takes a sip of his bottled water.
“We didn’t have a marching band. I didn’t think I would march here, but I wanted to play in concert band, and Mr. Schuester said I have to participate both semesters.”
“Yeah, that’s his way of making sure he doesn’t lose half his musicians when marching band ends.”
“Really? People would rather march than perform perfect arrangements in a concert hall?” Blaine looks honestly perplexed by this.
“You really haven’t marched before, have you?” Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Boy, you are in for a whole new world.”
“You like it that much?”
“You have no idea.” Mercedes shares a little grin with Kurt.
“And it’s adorable that you think McKinley is going to give you concert halls,” Kurt adds. “More like gyms that still smell like sweat.”
“Oh.” Blaine slurps some soda, but when he’s done drinking, he’s smiling again. “Tell me, what’s so wonderful about marching band?”
They all rush to tell him.
Kurt: Big, showy performances, and the cheers from the crowd.
Mercedes: The wail of that perfect trumpet solo, played by yours truly.
Kurt: Winning lots of trophies.
Quinn: Perfect formations on the field.
Tina: Spinning things.
(Lauren elbows her and mouths hot dancers. Tina grins and elbows her right back.)
Mercedes: That moment of anticipation right before our fearless leaders call us to attention and count off.
Tina: Dancing to pep band music in the stands.
Quinn: Cheering even though the football team sucks.
(She looks a little sad, and Lauren puts her hand on Quinn’s wrist, a light, brief touch.)
Kurt: Designing the color guard uniforms.
Blaine looks at Lauren expectantly. She doesn’t talk to strangers, and what she says is far too personal to give him, but she hears herself say it anyway, caught up in her friends’ enthusiasm.
Lauren: Being the heartbeat of the band.
(It’s true the drumline is the driving pulse of any marching band, but even as she says it, she realizes she’s not just thinking about her role, or the drumline as a whole, but also of the deep bass of the biggest bass drum, echoing the steady beat of her heart. Goddamnit, she is so screwed.)
Then Mercedes does a little fist pump and shimmy in her chair. “Band parties and bus rides, baby.”
Blaine shrugs and shakes his head a little.
“Oh, you are in for an experience,” Kurt promises him, leaning closer. “Where else will you see heavy brass idiots fall all over themselves for a beer and get the pleasure of doing shots with us?”
“Well if that’s the draw,” Blaine tips his head toward Kurt, “how can I resist?”
Flirting? Tina mouths at Lauren, and Lauren shrugs. Mercedes, watching them, nods a little, trying not to draw attention to herself. Blaine and Kurt grin at each other just a little too long, and then Kurt looks away, flushing.
Mercedes is quick to cover for her boy. “Why’d you leave Dalton?” she asks.
Blaine straightens and shrugs, dragging three fries through ketchup. “Couldn’t stand the uniform anymore.” He laughs it off, but it’s not really an answer. Mercedes and Tina exchange a look, and then Tina glances at Lauren, who gives the shallowest nod she can and catches Quinn’s eyes. There’s a story there, and they want to know what it is.
“Tell me about McKinley,” Blaine says. “Is there a gay-straight alliance? I was in it at my old school, though only a couple of us were out. Or no, that leaves out lesbians.” His nose crinkles a little with his frown. “What do you call it at a co-ed school? Gay-lesbian-straight alliance?” He takes a bite out of his burger, all noncha-fucking-lant, like he’s got no idea what he just said.
And probably, he doesn’t.
“Still leaves out a lot of sexualities,” Tina says and grips her cup so tight the lid pops up on one side. Across the table, Kurt looks down at his salad. Lauren hooks her foot against Tina’s ankle, tucking their legs together. “There’s more than just gay, lesbian, and straight.”
Blaine’s eyes widen, and he chews quickly, swallowing a couple times. “I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, well, no one ever does.” She doesn’t look pointedly at Kurt. She doesn’t have to. The end of the school year party hangs over them, too much alcohol and Kurt’s nasty little comment about bisexual just being a label people used until they were comfortable enough coming out. Tina, normally giddy and dancing when she drank, turned on him for saying something so stupid and told them all she liked girls just as much as guys, thank you very much. She sighs. “No way we’d be allowed to have a queer alliance at school.”
“That sucks,” Blaine says. He sets down his burger. “And I really am sorry.”
Tina carefully presses down the lid to her cup and nods. “Okay.” This time she does look at Kurt, staring hard until he meets her eyes. “It really is okay. We all say cruel stuff without thinking about it sometimes.”
He gives a half-hearted smile, but the silence that follows is still awkward and uncomfortable. The skin on the back of Lauren’s neck feels tight -- or maybe that’s sunburn, she really needs to reapply sunscreen more often -- and no one really looks at each other.
Finally Quinn makes a show of glancing down at her watch. “Finish up,” she says. “We need to head back soon.”
“Yes, because God forbid our precious leader be late returning to her stepstool on the thirty yard line,” Mercedes teases. Quinn sniffs and lifts her chin, looking every inch the ice queen she was this time last year, head cheerleader and first chair flutist and a shoe-in for Homecoming Princess and Valentine’s Day Dance Sweetheart. Then she grins and tosses a fry at Mercedes.
“I do what it takes to keep the minions in line,” she says, and then it’s on.
Well, they won’t be going back to Wendy’s anytime soon after that food fight.
#
They’re playing through a basic cadence for the fiftieth time while the band marches in one big block, working on perfecting their eight to five steps -- even though the freshmen, and Blaine, she guesses, had fundamentals all last week, the rest of the band needs practice before they can start actually doing work -- when Lauren realizes she’s not really paying attention to what she’s doing. She doesn’t need to, she could play this pattern in her sleep, but that’s not what gets to her.
What gets to her is how hard she’s listening for the sound of Puck’s drum. She knows the bass drum parts too, knows each beat that is his, and the fact that she’s focusing on it, the fact that she freaking cares about which beat in each pattern is his, kills her.
#
The sun is setting when Mr. Schue finally calls an end to practice. Once Matt lets the line go, Lauren trudges with the others over to the equipment truck and puts away her quads. Even with a summer of practice, she’s worn out, so tired she can feel it in her goddamn bones.
(Which is, she has to admit, pretty freaky. Bones aren’t supposed to have feelings. And that sounds a lot like Brittany. She’s spending way too much time with the color guard if B’s in her head like that.)
She’s looking around to see if any of her friends need a ride when Puckerman saunters over. He’s between her and her car, so she stops and crosses her arms over her chest. No way in hell he’s going to out stubborn her.
He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, all nonchalant and shit. “Bass line’s headed to Nelson’s. You should come.”
She considers it before she can stop herself. Not to spend time with Puckerman, but she did spend two years marching a bass drum, and she likes the other guys on the line well enough. Nelson’s place is pretty sweet, too. He’s got the whole finished basement to himself, and it’s full of games and speakers and racks of dvds. Hanging out with the guys, drinking beers and killing zombies sounds like a hell of a time.
Puckerman gives her a little grin, her insides twists, and she remembers it’s a bad idea.
“Can’t. I’ve already got plans.” It’s not a lie, either. She just doesn’t elaborate on those plans, which involve the longest, hottest shower ever -- though if Puckerman keeps looking at her like that, all hopeful and slightly smirking and just plain sexy as hell, she’ll need a cold shower instead -- and faceplanting on her bed for awhile.
His face falls, the smile gone, but then he shrugs. “Whatever. Later, Zizes.”
No fucking way Puckerman gets upset at being shot down, but she can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s hurt his feelings. She hooks one hand along the back of her neck, kneading her fingers into her skin. Shower, faceplant, and some really loud music. Maybe then she can ignore all these damn unwanted feelings.
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