Fic: Glee: A Goal Without a Plan is Just a Wish (Kurt/Blaine, G)
I was sure I wasn't going to write a reaction/missing scene fic for "The Purple Piano Project" (Glee 3x01). And then I did, anyway.
Title: "A Goal Without a Plan is Just a Wish"
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: G
Word count: 1600
Summary: A missing phone call between Kurt and Blaine from "The Purple Piano Project"
Spoilers: set during 3x01 “The Purple Piano Project” and referring to events in that episode, with no spoilers beyond it
Notes: the title is a quotation by Antoine de Saint-Exupery; huge thanks to stoney321 for being my extra brain and set of eyes (and for just generally being the Blaine to my Kurt, the Darren to my Chris, the chocolate to my peanut butter, etc.)
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
Blaine answered his phone on the third ring. “Hey, Kurt. How did it go tonight?” he asked with his usual brightness, and the optimism in his voice made Kurt feel worse instead of better for the first time ever, because now that belief in him seemed misplaced.
Kurt closed his eyes and sank back against the pile of pillows at the head of his bed. “It was educational.”
“Educational? I thought this was a mixer.”
“It was, but we also learned quite a bit.”
“That’s great,” Blaine said. Kurt could hear the smile in his voice and how much he meant it. The positivity sat on his chest like one of Finn’s gym weights. “It’s good to learn about the school. Was your performance amazing?”
“Their performance was amazing,” Kurt told him and tormented himself by replaying the finale of their routine once more in his mind.
“Oh,” Blaine said, taking that in before the cheer came back into his voice. “Well, I’m sure you and Rachel were also - “
“Please don’t,” Kurt asked in a whisper.
Blaine was quiet for a surprised moment. “Don’t what? Don’t tell you how great you are?” He sounded a little hurt, and Kurt didn’t know what to do with that. He knew he’d want to be supportive, too, if their positions were reversed, but he didn’t want the automatic encouragement. He needed to live in reality for a little while.
Kurt opened his eyes and looked up at the expanse of his eggshell white ceiling. He remembered how he’d stayed up late one night giving it a third coat before he’d moved into the room to make sure its smooth surface was perfect. It wasn’t, of course, because paint alone couldn’t fix the faint flaws and bumps in the plaster, and the effort seemed a bit pointless now. “Tonight made it clear just how great I am. Or am not.”
“Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Blaine said with forced, confused humor.
“I know,” Kurt said as he drew a shaky breath. “Although if we ever break up I know where you can find an even more talented clone or six to replace me.”
“What?”
Kurt shook his head and shut his eyes again. “Never mind. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, if you want. Or better yet, have Rachel tell you. She’ll probably be filled with fire and spite by morning. She’ll deliver quite the monologue.”
“I’d rather hear your version,” Blaine said. He sounded a little tentative about what to say, which wasn’t surprising because he had to be unsure of what Kurt wanted if it wasn’t encouragement, but still absolutely certain of him.
“Okay,” Kurt said, and he could feel himself relaxing from Blaine’s steady presence in his ear. He wished it weren’t so late so they could be talking in person, because that would be even better. “Anyway, our pity party ended before we left the parking lot, but still. It was not the night I’d expected.”
“I’m sorry.” There was the sound of fabric and movement on the line, like Blaine was sliding around on his bed to get comfortable.
“I am, too, if only because now I have more work ahead of me.”
“Oh? Are you going to get a vocal coach? I mean, you sound amazing already, but Thad knows this coach in Westerville who he swears can push his students to a whole new level.”
“No,” Kurt said. “Well, possibly. That’s not a bad idea.” He drew up his legs and then let them slide down the bedspread again. “But I was talking about something else. I’ve decided to run for student government.”
“You’re - “ He could hear Blaine take a long breath. “You’re running for student government?”
“Yes. Senior class president, actually, because there’s no point in not aiming for the top.”
“I mean this in the most supportive way possible, but... why?” Blaine sounded beyond confused.
Kurt turned onto his side to draw comfort from the smiling picture of Blaine on his bedside table. Blaine's eyes sparkled at him from behind the glass. “I need more extracurriculars if I’m going to get into the school I want.”
“Okay, that’s - Okay.” There was more rustling, and Blaine’s voice was clearer when he continued. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Kurt.” It wasn’t quite the mentor voice of the previous year, but Kurt could tell from his tone that Blaine was readying himself to listen seriously.
“I don’t know. I’m still working on a plan, but I need extracurriculars, and this feels right to me.”
“Right in what way?”
“Well, I want to do something that capitalizes on my strengths. Student government is about giving the students a voice, and I certainly am known for mine. And if anyone knows about the problems in this school it’s me.”
Blaine laughed a little, although there wasn’t much humor to it. “That’s true. But - I’m not going to ask you if you’re sure you want to do this, because I know you, and I know you are. But I remember your prom last year. I remember the viciousness of the competition beforehand for the prom court, and I remember what happened in the end.”
Kurt’s eyes drifted to where the prom queen crown sat in all its cheap plastic glory on his shelf. “That shows I already have a leg up on much of the competition; everybody in the class knows me. My name recognition transcends cliques. That’s a huge advantage.”
“Kurt.”
“I know,” Kurt said more softly, and he wished again that they were together in person. “I know it’s not going to be pretty. But I already know how they feel about me. What else could they say that they haven’t already? And I’m good at thinking on my feet and getting my point across. I’m good at pointing out how stupid other people are. I’m good at making people notice me. Those are all excellent qualities for a political race at any level.”
“I can’t really argue with that,” Blaine said, and this time there was definitely humor in the fondness of his laugh. “And you’d made a great class president.”
“I know,” Kurt said. He could feel it in his gut, in his heart. He was as sure of its rightness for him as he was for which boots he should pair with his new jeans to make his legs look like they went on forever. He knew it. “Because all of those things would also make it easy for me to stand up for what I believe in, for what’s right, after I get it. I could fight for all of the kids who don’t have a voice, who are ignored or pushed around. I could fight for a better anti-bullying policy, one that’s more permanent than the whims of the Bully Whips. I could fight for more respect for the arts and for individual expression. I could fight for more emphasis on all non-athletic extracurriculars to encourage the kids who have gifts beyond sports.”
He paused to draw a quick breath, barely able to stop the words tumbling out of him for even that long. “I could make changes, Blaine, changes that mean the gay kids who aren’t out yet or the theatrical kids who aren’t even here yet will feel safer and freer and prouder to be themselves when they walk down those halls. I could make things better.” He brought his hand up to his chest and was surprised to find it trembling.
Blaine was quiet for a long moment, his breathing shallow and fast over the line. “You’re amazing, Kurt,” he said. He sounded bowled over, choked up, and it made Kurt’s eyes prickle with a hint of grateful tears, because Blaine got it. He got it. “Anything you want me to do to help, I will. Decorating posters, handing out buttons, writing you a catchy campaign jingle, anything.”
Kurt laughed and for the first time that night felt the knot in his stomach finally come loose. “Thank you,” he said. “I will absolutely take advantage of your foolishly open-ended offer. I’m going to need help. This will be a fight, I know it. But I’m going to win.”
“You really are incredible, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice filled with everything. “I’m glad I get to be there to see it every single day.”
“I am, too,” Kurt said, smiling, and they were quiet for the span of a few happy breaths.
Blaine broke the silence with a chuckle. “When you win, does that mean I’ll be your first lady?”
“First gentleman,” Kurt told him, and he took a giddy moment to picture the two of them striding the halls hand-in-hand as the most important and best-dressed power couple in the school. He could see it. He could feel the respect they would command. He could imagine the looks of gratitude and admiration they’d be given from the kids who wanted to be themselves and now were brave enough to do so because of the models they saw. It would happen.
“I can do that. I’m drawing the line at having to wear a state of Ohio pin on all of my shirts, though,” Blaine said. “Or even one of Lima.”
“Oh, no. No,” Kurt agreed. “But we may have to start coordinating our outfits. I’ll start a spreadsheet. We should catalog your wardrobe. What are you doing this weekend?”
“I’m starting the Kurt Hummel for Senior Class President Committee.”
Kurt’s smile burst out of him, and he reached for his laptop. He needed to start making lists. “Okay, but I have final say on the color scheme for the logo.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Blaine said; Kurt could hear his grin.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Blaine. You can wait to call me that until after I win,” Kurt told him. “Now, let’s talk slogans.”
~end~
(I am unspoiled beyond TPPP; please do not spoil me. Thank you.)
Title: "A Goal Without a Plan is Just a Wish"
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: G
Word count: 1600
Summary: A missing phone call between Kurt and Blaine from "The Purple Piano Project"
Spoilers: set during 3x01 “The Purple Piano Project” and referring to events in that episode, with no spoilers beyond it
Notes: the title is a quotation by Antoine de Saint-Exupery; huge thanks to stoney321 for being my extra brain and set of eyes (and for just generally being the Blaine to my Kurt, the Darren to my Chris, the chocolate to my peanut butter, etc.)
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
Blaine answered his phone on the third ring. “Hey, Kurt. How did it go tonight?” he asked with his usual brightness, and the optimism in his voice made Kurt feel worse instead of better for the first time ever, because now that belief in him seemed misplaced.
Kurt closed his eyes and sank back against the pile of pillows at the head of his bed. “It was educational.”
“Educational? I thought this was a mixer.”
“It was, but we also learned quite a bit.”
“That’s great,” Blaine said. Kurt could hear the smile in his voice and how much he meant it. The positivity sat on his chest like one of Finn’s gym weights. “It’s good to learn about the school. Was your performance amazing?”
“Their performance was amazing,” Kurt told him and tormented himself by replaying the finale of their routine once more in his mind.
“Oh,” Blaine said, taking that in before the cheer came back into his voice. “Well, I’m sure you and Rachel were also - “
“Please don’t,” Kurt asked in a whisper.
Blaine was quiet for a surprised moment. “Don’t what? Don’t tell you how great you are?” He sounded a little hurt, and Kurt didn’t know what to do with that. He knew he’d want to be supportive, too, if their positions were reversed, but he didn’t want the automatic encouragement. He needed to live in reality for a little while.
Kurt opened his eyes and looked up at the expanse of his eggshell white ceiling. He remembered how he’d stayed up late one night giving it a third coat before he’d moved into the room to make sure its smooth surface was perfect. It wasn’t, of course, because paint alone couldn’t fix the faint flaws and bumps in the plaster, and the effort seemed a bit pointless now. “Tonight made it clear just how great I am. Or am not.”
“Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Blaine said with forced, confused humor.
“I know,” Kurt said as he drew a shaky breath. “Although if we ever break up I know where you can find an even more talented clone or six to replace me.”
“What?”
Kurt shook his head and shut his eyes again. “Never mind. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, if you want. Or better yet, have Rachel tell you. She’ll probably be filled with fire and spite by morning. She’ll deliver quite the monologue.”
“I’d rather hear your version,” Blaine said. He sounded a little tentative about what to say, which wasn’t surprising because he had to be unsure of what Kurt wanted if it wasn’t encouragement, but still absolutely certain of him.
“Okay,” Kurt said, and he could feel himself relaxing from Blaine’s steady presence in his ear. He wished it weren’t so late so they could be talking in person, because that would be even better. “Anyway, our pity party ended before we left the parking lot, but still. It was not the night I’d expected.”
“I’m sorry.” There was the sound of fabric and movement on the line, like Blaine was sliding around on his bed to get comfortable.
“I am, too, if only because now I have more work ahead of me.”
“Oh? Are you going to get a vocal coach? I mean, you sound amazing already, but Thad knows this coach in Westerville who he swears can push his students to a whole new level.”
“No,” Kurt said. “Well, possibly. That’s not a bad idea.” He drew up his legs and then let them slide down the bedspread again. “But I was talking about something else. I’ve decided to run for student government.”
“You’re - “ He could hear Blaine take a long breath. “You’re running for student government?”
“Yes. Senior class president, actually, because there’s no point in not aiming for the top.”
“I mean this in the most supportive way possible, but... why?” Blaine sounded beyond confused.
Kurt turned onto his side to draw comfort from the smiling picture of Blaine on his bedside table. Blaine's eyes sparkled at him from behind the glass. “I need more extracurriculars if I’m going to get into the school I want.”
“Okay, that’s - Okay.” There was more rustling, and Blaine’s voice was clearer when he continued. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Kurt.” It wasn’t quite the mentor voice of the previous year, but Kurt could tell from his tone that Blaine was readying himself to listen seriously.
“I don’t know. I’m still working on a plan, but I need extracurriculars, and this feels right to me.”
“Right in what way?”
“Well, I want to do something that capitalizes on my strengths. Student government is about giving the students a voice, and I certainly am known for mine. And if anyone knows about the problems in this school it’s me.”
Blaine laughed a little, although there wasn’t much humor to it. “That’s true. But - I’m not going to ask you if you’re sure you want to do this, because I know you, and I know you are. But I remember your prom last year. I remember the viciousness of the competition beforehand for the prom court, and I remember what happened in the end.”
Kurt’s eyes drifted to where the prom queen crown sat in all its cheap plastic glory on his shelf. “That shows I already have a leg up on much of the competition; everybody in the class knows me. My name recognition transcends cliques. That’s a huge advantage.”
“Kurt.”
“I know,” Kurt said more softly, and he wished again that they were together in person. “I know it’s not going to be pretty. But I already know how they feel about me. What else could they say that they haven’t already? And I’m good at thinking on my feet and getting my point across. I’m good at pointing out how stupid other people are. I’m good at making people notice me. Those are all excellent qualities for a political race at any level.”
“I can’t really argue with that,” Blaine said, and this time there was definitely humor in the fondness of his laugh. “And you’d made a great class president.”
“I know,” Kurt said. He could feel it in his gut, in his heart. He was as sure of its rightness for him as he was for which boots he should pair with his new jeans to make his legs look like they went on forever. He knew it. “Because all of those things would also make it easy for me to stand up for what I believe in, for what’s right, after I get it. I could fight for all of the kids who don’t have a voice, who are ignored or pushed around. I could fight for a better anti-bullying policy, one that’s more permanent than the whims of the Bully Whips. I could fight for more respect for the arts and for individual expression. I could fight for more emphasis on all non-athletic extracurriculars to encourage the kids who have gifts beyond sports.”
He paused to draw a quick breath, barely able to stop the words tumbling out of him for even that long. “I could make changes, Blaine, changes that mean the gay kids who aren’t out yet or the theatrical kids who aren’t even here yet will feel safer and freer and prouder to be themselves when they walk down those halls. I could make things better.” He brought his hand up to his chest and was surprised to find it trembling.
Blaine was quiet for a long moment, his breathing shallow and fast over the line. “You’re amazing, Kurt,” he said. He sounded bowled over, choked up, and it made Kurt’s eyes prickle with a hint of grateful tears, because Blaine got it. He got it. “Anything you want me to do to help, I will. Decorating posters, handing out buttons, writing you a catchy campaign jingle, anything.”
Kurt laughed and for the first time that night felt the knot in his stomach finally come loose. “Thank you,” he said. “I will absolutely take advantage of your foolishly open-ended offer. I’m going to need help. This will be a fight, I know it. But I’m going to win.”
“You really are incredible, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice filled with everything. “I’m glad I get to be there to see it every single day.”
“I am, too,” Kurt said, smiling, and they were quiet for the span of a few happy breaths.
Blaine broke the silence with a chuckle. “When you win, does that mean I’ll be your first lady?”
“First gentleman,” Kurt told him, and he took a giddy moment to picture the two of them striding the halls hand-in-hand as the most important and best-dressed power couple in the school. He could see it. He could feel the respect they would command. He could imagine the looks of gratitude and admiration they’d be given from the kids who wanted to be themselves and now were brave enough to do so because of the models they saw. It would happen.
“I can do that. I’m drawing the line at having to wear a state of Ohio pin on all of my shirts, though,” Blaine said. “Or even one of Lima.”
“Oh, no. No,” Kurt agreed. “But we may have to start coordinating our outfits. I’ll start a spreadsheet. We should catalog your wardrobe. What are you doing this weekend?”
“I’m starting the Kurt Hummel for Senior Class President Committee.”
Kurt’s smile burst out of him, and he reached for his laptop. He needed to start making lists. “Okay, but I have final say on the color scheme for the logo.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Blaine said; Kurt could hear his grin.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Blaine. You can wait to call me that until after I win,” Kurt told him. “Now, let’s talk slogans.”
~end~
(I am unspoiled beyond TPPP; please do not spoil me. Thank you.)