His Perfect Partner (32/?)
Title: His Perfect Partner (32/?)
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Burt/Carole, Tina/Mike, Mercedes/Sam, Brittany/Santana, Rachel/Finn
Spoilers: None, but assume that anything through Season Three is fair game for inspiration.
Word Count: 2234
Summary: After five disappointing seasons on the show, professional dancer Kurt Hummel finally has his chance at ballroom glory. With actress and fan favorite Kim Schrodinger as his partner, Kurt vows to channel all his focus into winning that mirrorball trophy - distractions, including men, be damned. Enter Blaine Anderson, a gorgeous, confusing pop star who may turn out to be the biggest distraction of them all.
In This Chapter: Emotions run high as the four remaining couples dance for a spot in the finals.
Author's Note: This is a Dancing with the Stars/Glee crossover AU, in which Kurt grew up dancing and became a professional on the show in his mid-twenties, and Blaine is a pop star with a very private private life. Other familiar Glee faces, some actual DWTS pros, and a couple of OCs appear to round out the cast of characters. For the summer, I'm posting once a week so that I can keep up with real life things! I have a master glee post here, or follow my bff's tumblr for updates and fun multi-media extras that will go along with some chapters. Thanks to
samzgurl,
wintercreek, and
gypsyangel25 for the beta as well as for general cheer-leading and fun times.
“You don’t like the jive much, do you, Porcelain?” Sue stared down at Kurt from her chair behind the judges’ table.
“Not particularly, no,” he answered, gripping Kim’s hand more tightly. They’d just finished performing, and his adrenaline was still running high.
“Well, it didn’t suck,” Sue announced, “but it could have been crisper and more daring. You don’t win anything by playing it safe. I should know!”
“Eight?” Kim whispered in Kurt’s ear as Sue wrapped up her comments and Bruno began flailing as he talked.
“Nine if we’re lucky,” Kurt whispered back. “It went pretty well, but that was no tango.”
“Amen, brother,” Kim said. She smiled widely at Bruno, who appeared to be done with his rant, and then waited politely for Tom to send them to commercial. The moment the cameras turned away, she wrapped herself around one of Kurt’s arms and let him pull her up the stairs.
Back in the celebraquarium, Santana gave them a wink that was somehow sympathetic, Maks clapped Kurt on the back, Lacey kissed both their cheeks, and Blaine communicated an entire supportive and adorable paragraph through eye contact alone. Puck said something nonsensical but ultimately kind, and Bitsy even rushed over to hug Kim and squeeze Kurt’s hand. It didn’t bode well.
Sure enough, they scored an 8 and two 9s, which would have been great three weeks ago, but was now terrifying. Their samba would have to be impeccable in order for Kurt to be able to sleep tonight.
Backstage, Kurt and Kim stumbled out of one costume and into the next while Sam and Cedes hovered and looked suitably concerned. They made it back out to the balcony with a few minutes to spare before Blaine and Bitsy’s foxtrot. Kim sank down onto the nearest seat, and Kurt tucked himself into the space between her and Santana.
“Well?” Kurt asked, looking at Santana expectantly.
“Planning to sell yourself on the open market? Or is there another reason you don’t believe in shirts for the samba?” Santana smirked at Kurt, her eyes running up and down his bare chest in a way designed to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he felt a little proud.
“Says the woman who regularly wears a couple of band-aids and some glitter and calls it a costume,” he retorted, already feeling more relaxed.
“Unlike you, I don’t even attempt to dress myself for this show. And the profound lack of fabric in my ‘gowns’ is about the only reason Sam doesn’t ping my gaydar. That and his inability to keep his tongue to himself when Mercedes is around. I mean, it’s one thing to be into the opposite sex, but there’s no reason to go rubbing my face in it like that.” Santana reached up to smooth her hair back, her lips pursed. Kurt thought she was probably holding back a smile.
“Straight people,” Kurt said, attempting to match her dry tone. “What can you do?”
Kurt bumped Santana’s shoulder, and she winked at him, her grin appearing and then disappearing again just as quickly.
“Three 8s, by the way. They were a hot mess - Lacey had the ‘hot’ covered; Puckerman was the ‘mess.’” Santana said in an undertone.
“Not that surprising,” Kurt agreed. He took a deep breath, forcing his shoulders down. At least he and Kim weren’t in last place.
“Looks like your boy’s about to blow everyone out of the water,” Santana said, motioning toward the floor, where Blaine and Bitsy had just taken their opening pose. “I saw them run this during dress. Pocket Gay certainly makes a dashing leading man.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Kurt replied. He tried to keep his tone from getting too saccharine. Judging from Santana’s snort, he hadn’t quite managed it.
Kurt’s gaze stayed locked on the dance floor as the music started up, the singer making an admirable effort to channel both Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble as he launched into For Once in My Life. Blaine and Bitsy glided across the floor, looking every inch the classy ballroom couple.
“Nice song choice, Blainers,” Kim said approvingly as she leaned in to rest her cheek on Kurt’s shoulder.
“What makes you think he picked it?” Kurt asked, distracted by the way Blaine and Bitsy twirled as the singer crooned “for once I can touch what my heart used to dream of.”
“Elizabeth mentioned it. Said he was really adamant.” Kim said. Kurt could hear the smile in her voice. “Wonder why?”
“Shut up, Kim,” Kurt said, his cheeks heating. He knew what Kim was implying, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to trust her or the way his heart was beating faster from the thought.
Mercifully, Kim didn’t say anything more, even when they could clearly see Blaine mouthing the lyrics to the end of the song. The song - and their performance - ended with a flourish, and Blaine dipped Bitsy so low her hair swept the ground. When he pulled her back up, the audience was on its feet cheering. Blaine grinned around at them, and Kurt could have sworn that his smile got a little bit wider when he glanced up to the balcony Kurt was standing on.
The judges were effusive in their praise: Len called them the height of Old Hollywood glamour and grace, Bruno trilled something about it being no wonder that all of America was in love with Blaine, and even Sue found nothing to gripe about in their performance. Blaine smiled bashfully, his eyes bright, while Bitsy bounced and clapped next to him. It took them forever to get back up to the celebraquarium because they kept getting stopped by well-wishers. Kurt just kept clapping for them, his smile so wide his cheeks were starting to hurt.
No one but Blaine was surprised when each of the judges waved a shiny 10 paddle, and everyone crowded around him and Bitsy to congratulate them. In the middle of their group hug, Kurt found Blaine’s hand with his, squeezing it briefly to try to convey some of the pride and excitement he was feeling. Blaine caught his eye, his gaze so full of happiness and emotion that Kurt had to look away before he started to cry. There was no use denying it now - Kurt was falling hard for this wonderful, impossible, adorable man. It felt overwhelming and right.
Kurt was left with his thoughts and feelings while Santana and Maks went down to perform and Blaine and Bitsy headed backstage to change. Kim gave him a minute alone before grabbing his hand so that they could go warm up for their samba. Then she gave him another minute just to breathe, knowing without asking that he needed to get more settled and focused.
“You ok?” she finally asked, holding both his hands in hers.
“I’m…great, actually,” Kurt replied, his smile returning. Kim laughed.
“I’m sure you are, Kurtsie. Think you can come down from the clouds long enough to party on the dance floor?” Kim swung her hips to demonstrate.
“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” Kurt took another deep breath, willing all extraneous thoughts out of his mind. “Let’s run through it.”
They fell into their normal pre-performance routine, running the number once while Kurt hummed the song. There were a couple of small adjustments to make, and then it was time to get out on the floor. As they walked to their starting places, Kurt called on all of his professional experience to keep himself grounded and in the moment. It was a big night in so many ways, but right now he needed to focus on getting through the next couple of minutes. Blaine - and Kurt’s feelings for him - would have to wait.
Kurt turned to look at Kim, who was across the floor from him, shimmying in place while the audience members closest to her laughed and clapped. Then she looked up at Kurt, sending him a smile and a wink. Just like that, Kurt was in the moment.
The music began, a steady beat that set his hips swinging as he made his way to the middle of the floor to meet Kim. Her steps were perfectly timed, with just the right balance of bounce and control. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d gotten a solid handle on the samba, and it showed.
Within moments, the audience was clapping along, and both Kurt and Kim were grinning widely as they flew around the floor. This performance was light years away from their jive earlier in the night, and they both knew it. Kim turned into Kurt, her back to his front, and they undulated together, right arms twined and lifted as they circled in a samba roll. The audience went crazy and then cheered even louder when Kurt whipped Kim into a series of turns, ending with a dip so low Kim was practically on the floor. Then, as the music came to its final crescendo, Kurt pulled her back up, only to drop her into a split at his feet.
When Kurt leaned down to help Kim up, she was grinning at him. He thought she tried to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear her over the applause and whistles of the crowd. He shook his head, smiling apologetically, so she just squeezed his hand and smiled some more. He didn’t need to hear her, not really, because he knew what she was trying to say. They’d done well, done all they could, and now it was up to the judges and the voters.
The judges’ comments were good, though Sue looked murderous when she kept getting interrupted by whoops from the crowd. Kurt felt good about their performance in a way he definitely hadn’t about the jive, and he hoped it was enough. When Tom sent them back to the celebraquarium during the commercial, Kurt slung his arm around Kim’s shoulders and squeezed tight.
“I’m choosing to interpret all that yelling as a sign of good things to come,” Kim said, leaning into Kurt.
“Works for me,” Kurt said. He tried to push down his remaining doubts. There’d be time enough for that during the results show the next night. He didn’t need to get ahead of himself.
Their scores, when they came, were good. Bruno and Len both gave them 10s, while Sue - probably in a fit of pique - gave them a 9. Their grand total for the night was 55 out of 60, which wasn’t quite as perfect as Kurt would have liked, but solid all the same. He could live with it. He had to live with it, at least for the next twenty-four hours.
Kurt got lost in his thoughts until Santana and Kim grabbed him by the elbows and steered him out onto the balcony for Blaine and Bitsy’s Argentine tango. They sat down on either side of him, Kim exclaiming over Bitsy’s dress, a deep burgundy shift under black lace, while Santana wondered aloud if Blaine thought anyone would really be intimidated by a pint-sized gangster.
“I like the hat,” Kurt said, understating just how much he responded to Blaine’s dark and dangerous look.
“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘and he’s fun-sized, not pint-sized,’ I will vomit on the two rows in front of us, so help me God,” Santana shot back. “Keep your kinky sex games to yourself.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you shared stories, but for some reason you seem to value your privacy,” Kim said, and Kurt spluttered uselessly at her. Santana snorted, and Kim smiled benignly at both of them.
“Why am I friends with you two again?” Kurt finally asked, rubbing one hand over his face.
“Because we’re lovely,” Kim said.
“And a damn good time,” Santana added. “Now pay attention, or you’ll miss your little nightclub fantasy come to life.”
Kurt decided to leave well enough alone and turned his attention back to the dance floor, where Blaine and Bitsy were circling one another as the first notes of music began to build. They came together, and their movements were sharp but sensual, somehow both caressing and attacking at once. Next to Kurt, both Santana and Kim sat transfixed, drawn into the dance just as he was.
Kurt held his breath when Blaine lifted Bitsy overhead, her back arched into his hands. Then he brought her slowly down and wrapped his arms around her as they moved as one. The dance was a measured and steady seduction, occasional quick movements offset by the push of feet across the floor and the slow arc of arms as they rose and fell. By the end, when the silence before the applause held them all enraptured, Kurt wanted nothing more than to be with Blaine, to dance with him, to be touched by his hands. Their performance had fully worked its magic on him, just as it had on everyone in the ballroom.
When the moment finally broke with cheers and whistles, Kurt felt as though he was surfacing after a long time underwater. Both Kim and Santana had gotten up to stand at the railing, leaving Kurt to his thoughts, which raced through his brain unheeded. He needed the night - the stress and the strain of it - to end. He needed a chance to process everything in his own time. He needed quiet space and dark night. He needed Blaine.
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Burt/Carole, Tina/Mike, Mercedes/Sam, Brittany/Santana, Rachel/Finn
Spoilers: None, but assume that anything through Season Three is fair game for inspiration.
Word Count: 2234
Summary: After five disappointing seasons on the show, professional dancer Kurt Hummel finally has his chance at ballroom glory. With actress and fan favorite Kim Schrodinger as his partner, Kurt vows to channel all his focus into winning that mirrorball trophy - distractions, including men, be damned. Enter Blaine Anderson, a gorgeous, confusing pop star who may turn out to be the biggest distraction of them all.
In This Chapter: Emotions run high as the four remaining couples dance for a spot in the finals.
Author's Note: This is a Dancing with the Stars/Glee crossover AU, in which Kurt grew up dancing and became a professional on the show in his mid-twenties, and Blaine is a pop star with a very private private life. Other familiar Glee faces, some actual DWTS pros, and a couple of OCs appear to round out the cast of characters. For the summer, I'm posting once a week so that I can keep up with real life things! I have a master glee post here, or follow my bff's tumblr for updates and fun multi-media extras that will go along with some chapters. Thanks to
samzgurl,
wintercreek, and
gypsyangel25 for the beta as well as for general cheer-leading and fun times.
“You don’t like the jive much, do you, Porcelain?” Sue stared down at Kurt from her chair behind the judges’ table.
“Not particularly, no,” he answered, gripping Kim’s hand more tightly. They’d just finished performing, and his adrenaline was still running high.
“Well, it didn’t suck,” Sue announced, “but it could have been crisper and more daring. You don’t win anything by playing it safe. I should know!”
“Eight?” Kim whispered in Kurt’s ear as Sue wrapped up her comments and Bruno began flailing as he talked.
“Nine if we’re lucky,” Kurt whispered back. “It went pretty well, but that was no tango.”
“Amen, brother,” Kim said. She smiled widely at Bruno, who appeared to be done with his rant, and then waited politely for Tom to send them to commercial. The moment the cameras turned away, she wrapped herself around one of Kurt’s arms and let him pull her up the stairs.
Back in the celebraquarium, Santana gave them a wink that was somehow sympathetic, Maks clapped Kurt on the back, Lacey kissed both their cheeks, and Blaine communicated an entire supportive and adorable paragraph through eye contact alone. Puck said something nonsensical but ultimately kind, and Bitsy even rushed over to hug Kim and squeeze Kurt’s hand. It didn’t bode well.
Sure enough, they scored an 8 and two 9s, which would have been great three weeks ago, but was now terrifying. Their samba would have to be impeccable in order for Kurt to be able to sleep tonight.
Backstage, Kurt and Kim stumbled out of one costume and into the next while Sam and Cedes hovered and looked suitably concerned. They made it back out to the balcony with a few minutes to spare before Blaine and Bitsy’s foxtrot. Kim sank down onto the nearest seat, and Kurt tucked himself into the space between her and Santana.
“Well?” Kurt asked, looking at Santana expectantly.
“Planning to sell yourself on the open market? Or is there another reason you don’t believe in shirts for the samba?” Santana smirked at Kurt, her eyes running up and down his bare chest in a way designed to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he felt a little proud.
“Says the woman who regularly wears a couple of band-aids and some glitter and calls it a costume,” he retorted, already feeling more relaxed.
“Unlike you, I don’t even attempt to dress myself for this show. And the profound lack of fabric in my ‘gowns’ is about the only reason Sam doesn’t ping my gaydar. That and his inability to keep his tongue to himself when Mercedes is around. I mean, it’s one thing to be into the opposite sex, but there’s no reason to go rubbing my face in it like that.” Santana reached up to smooth her hair back, her lips pursed. Kurt thought she was probably holding back a smile.
“Straight people,” Kurt said, attempting to match her dry tone. “What can you do?”
Kurt bumped Santana’s shoulder, and she winked at him, her grin appearing and then disappearing again just as quickly.
“Three 8s, by the way. They were a hot mess - Lacey had the ‘hot’ covered; Puckerman was the ‘mess.’” Santana said in an undertone.
“Not that surprising,” Kurt agreed. He took a deep breath, forcing his shoulders down. At least he and Kim weren’t in last place.
“Looks like your boy’s about to blow everyone out of the water,” Santana said, motioning toward the floor, where Blaine and Bitsy had just taken their opening pose. “I saw them run this during dress. Pocket Gay certainly makes a dashing leading man.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Kurt replied. He tried to keep his tone from getting too saccharine. Judging from Santana’s snort, he hadn’t quite managed it.
Kurt’s gaze stayed locked on the dance floor as the music started up, the singer making an admirable effort to channel both Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble as he launched into For Once in My Life. Blaine and Bitsy glided across the floor, looking every inch the classy ballroom couple.
“Nice song choice, Blainers,” Kim said approvingly as she leaned in to rest her cheek on Kurt’s shoulder.
“What makes you think he picked it?” Kurt asked, distracted by the way Blaine and Bitsy twirled as the singer crooned “for once I can touch what my heart used to dream of.”
“Elizabeth mentioned it. Said he was really adamant.” Kim said. Kurt could hear the smile in her voice. “Wonder why?”
“Shut up, Kim,” Kurt said, his cheeks heating. He knew what Kim was implying, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to trust her or the way his heart was beating faster from the thought.
Mercifully, Kim didn’t say anything more, even when they could clearly see Blaine mouthing the lyrics to the end of the song. The song - and their performance - ended with a flourish, and Blaine dipped Bitsy so low her hair swept the ground. When he pulled her back up, the audience was on its feet cheering. Blaine grinned around at them, and Kurt could have sworn that his smile got a little bit wider when he glanced up to the balcony Kurt was standing on.
The judges were effusive in their praise: Len called them the height of Old Hollywood glamour and grace, Bruno trilled something about it being no wonder that all of America was in love with Blaine, and even Sue found nothing to gripe about in their performance. Blaine smiled bashfully, his eyes bright, while Bitsy bounced and clapped next to him. It took them forever to get back up to the celebraquarium because they kept getting stopped by well-wishers. Kurt just kept clapping for them, his smile so wide his cheeks were starting to hurt.
No one but Blaine was surprised when each of the judges waved a shiny 10 paddle, and everyone crowded around him and Bitsy to congratulate them. In the middle of their group hug, Kurt found Blaine’s hand with his, squeezing it briefly to try to convey some of the pride and excitement he was feeling. Blaine caught his eye, his gaze so full of happiness and emotion that Kurt had to look away before he started to cry. There was no use denying it now - Kurt was falling hard for this wonderful, impossible, adorable man. It felt overwhelming and right.
Kurt was left with his thoughts and feelings while Santana and Maks went down to perform and Blaine and Bitsy headed backstage to change. Kim gave him a minute alone before grabbing his hand so that they could go warm up for their samba. Then she gave him another minute just to breathe, knowing without asking that he needed to get more settled and focused.
“You ok?” she finally asked, holding both his hands in hers.
“I’m…great, actually,” Kurt replied, his smile returning. Kim laughed.
“I’m sure you are, Kurtsie. Think you can come down from the clouds long enough to party on the dance floor?” Kim swung her hips to demonstrate.
“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” Kurt took another deep breath, willing all extraneous thoughts out of his mind. “Let’s run through it.”
They fell into their normal pre-performance routine, running the number once while Kurt hummed the song. There were a couple of small adjustments to make, and then it was time to get out on the floor. As they walked to their starting places, Kurt called on all of his professional experience to keep himself grounded and in the moment. It was a big night in so many ways, but right now he needed to focus on getting through the next couple of minutes. Blaine - and Kurt’s feelings for him - would have to wait.
Kurt turned to look at Kim, who was across the floor from him, shimmying in place while the audience members closest to her laughed and clapped. Then she looked up at Kurt, sending him a smile and a wink. Just like that, Kurt was in the moment.
The music began, a steady beat that set his hips swinging as he made his way to the middle of the floor to meet Kim. Her steps were perfectly timed, with just the right balance of bounce and control. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d gotten a solid handle on the samba, and it showed.
Within moments, the audience was clapping along, and both Kurt and Kim were grinning widely as they flew around the floor. This performance was light years away from their jive earlier in the night, and they both knew it. Kim turned into Kurt, her back to his front, and they undulated together, right arms twined and lifted as they circled in a samba roll. The audience went crazy and then cheered even louder when Kurt whipped Kim into a series of turns, ending with a dip so low Kim was practically on the floor. Then, as the music came to its final crescendo, Kurt pulled her back up, only to drop her into a split at his feet.
When Kurt leaned down to help Kim up, she was grinning at him. He thought she tried to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear her over the applause and whistles of the crowd. He shook his head, smiling apologetically, so she just squeezed his hand and smiled some more. He didn’t need to hear her, not really, because he knew what she was trying to say. They’d done well, done all they could, and now it was up to the judges and the voters.
The judges’ comments were good, though Sue looked murderous when she kept getting interrupted by whoops from the crowd. Kurt felt good about their performance in a way he definitely hadn’t about the jive, and he hoped it was enough. When Tom sent them back to the celebraquarium during the commercial, Kurt slung his arm around Kim’s shoulders and squeezed tight.
“I’m choosing to interpret all that yelling as a sign of good things to come,” Kim said, leaning into Kurt.
“Works for me,” Kurt said. He tried to push down his remaining doubts. There’d be time enough for that during the results show the next night. He didn’t need to get ahead of himself.
Their scores, when they came, were good. Bruno and Len both gave them 10s, while Sue - probably in a fit of pique - gave them a 9. Their grand total for the night was 55 out of 60, which wasn’t quite as perfect as Kurt would have liked, but solid all the same. He could live with it. He had to live with it, at least for the next twenty-four hours.
Kurt got lost in his thoughts until Santana and Kim grabbed him by the elbows and steered him out onto the balcony for Blaine and Bitsy’s Argentine tango. They sat down on either side of him, Kim exclaiming over Bitsy’s dress, a deep burgundy shift under black lace, while Santana wondered aloud if Blaine thought anyone would really be intimidated by a pint-sized gangster.
“I like the hat,” Kurt said, understating just how much he responded to Blaine’s dark and dangerous look.
“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘and he’s fun-sized, not pint-sized,’ I will vomit on the two rows in front of us, so help me God,” Santana shot back. “Keep your kinky sex games to yourself.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you shared stories, but for some reason you seem to value your privacy,” Kim said, and Kurt spluttered uselessly at her. Santana snorted, and Kim smiled benignly at both of them.
“Why am I friends with you two again?” Kurt finally asked, rubbing one hand over his face.
“Because we’re lovely,” Kim said.
“And a damn good time,” Santana added. “Now pay attention, or you’ll miss your little nightclub fantasy come to life.”
Kurt decided to leave well enough alone and turned his attention back to the dance floor, where Blaine and Bitsy were circling one another as the first notes of music began to build. They came together, and their movements were sharp but sensual, somehow both caressing and attacking at once. Next to Kurt, both Santana and Kim sat transfixed, drawn into the dance just as he was.
Kurt held his breath when Blaine lifted Bitsy overhead, her back arched into his hands. Then he brought her slowly down and wrapped his arms around her as they moved as one. The dance was a measured and steady seduction, occasional quick movements offset by the push of feet across the floor and the slow arc of arms as they rose and fell. By the end, when the silence before the applause held them all enraptured, Kurt wanted nothing more than to be with Blaine, to dance with him, to be touched by his hands. Their performance had fully worked its magic on him, just as it had on everyone in the ballroom.
When the moment finally broke with cheers and whistles, Kurt felt as though he was surfacing after a long time underwater. Both Kim and Santana had gotten up to stand at the railing, leaving Kurt to his thoughts, which raced through his brain unheeded. He needed the night - the stress and the strain of it - to end. He needed a chance to process everything in his own time. He needed quiet space and dark night. He needed Blaine.