fic: let it snow (1/3)
Title: Let It Snow
Media: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Finn
Word Count: ~1400 for this part
Summary: Oh the weather outside is frightful, but Finn's thoughts on zombie apolocolypse are so delightful...
Author's Note: Inspired by a conversation with certaintendencies, so you can blame her. Thank you blueb1rd for the beta. :D
“Zombies?”
“Zombies.“
Finn and Kurt are in the midst of, well, a bit of a face-off in the Hummel-Hudson foyer. Blaine is watching the scene unfold with two pairs of ice skates slung over one shoulder. The couple had originally planned on an idyllic day of ice skating at the nearby lake, followed shortly after by hot cocoa and cuddling on the couch. (No, really. There was a schedule. Blaine had gotten the alert on his blackberry the previous afternoon.) That was until Finn had blocked their path, of course.
“You don’t understand,” Finn says in a panicked tone. “This is the event I have been training for my entire life. I know what I’m talking about. It would be like telling that McKing dude that he knows nothing about Fashion Week.”
“Well, he’s halfway right,” Blaine adds unhelpfully.
Kurt’s boot collides with the ground right next to Blaine’s toes. “Not helping, Blaine,” he hisses. “There are no zombies, Finn. Now move your inconveniently-sized self out of my way, or I’m afraid that I’ll have to introduce you to the business side of my ice skates.”
But before he can retrieve the aforementioned boots from Blaine, a rotted hand collides with the window beside the front door.
“Braaaaaains.”
“Holy-”
“-snow ball fight!” Blaine cuts in, gesturing out the window. A few more zombies loom in the distance, the occasional snowball colliding with them. “Look, they’re hitting some of the zombies with snowballs. Neat!”
Finn scrubs an hand down his face. “Not an effective tactic. Come on, this isn’t rocket science, people.”
“Clearly,” Kurt scoffs, “or else you wouldn’t be the brains behind the operation.”
Blaine knows better than to get between the two brothers, and has taken to pressing his face against the window, watching the scene outside unfold. The zombie on the porch is still grumbling and clawing at the door. His name tag soon catches Blaine’s eye. Howard.
“He taught me how to fold a fitted sheet,” Blaine says as he strokes his fingers down the windowpane mournfully. “He changed my life.”
“Blaine, quit that.” Kurt smacks his hand away from the window. “I just washed those windows yesterday.”
Finn throws his hands up in exasperation. “Who cares? There aren’t going to be any windows when the zombies take over!”
“Finn, I highly doubt a couple of disgusting flesh bags are going to have any major effect on the infrastructure of our lovely home,” Kurt drawls. Despite his previous insistence on the non-existence of zombies, he has already moved on to filing his nails.
“Dude, how do you always have one of those nail thingys anyway?” Finn asks, entranced by the precise movements of the emery board.
“Sponsorship,” he answers without missing a beat.
Finn can never tell when he’s being sarcastic. It’s kind of a problem.
-
Despite Kurt’s initial hesitance, it’s not long before the three boys have regrouped in the basement. Finn is pacing back and forth in front of an easel that looks suspiciously like the one that had gone missing from the choir room before winter break.
“Is that--”
“My five step plan for surviving a zombie apocalypse?” Finn makes a gun gesture with one hand, waving his pen dangerously with the other. “You got it, Pleasantville. That’s your code name, by the way. Makes radio communications easier.”
Blaine frowns. “But I wanted a cool code name.”
“Mine’s Prom Queen,” Kurt sighs, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “I’ve already decided that I’m not answering to it, fate of the universe be damned.”
“What if we let you wear the tiara?” Finn offers, twirling the tiara with his pen. Where had it even come from?
“Ahhh, the trinket best representing my humiliation. Tempting.” Kurt makes a dismissive gesture. “I’ll pass. I’m still trying to channel my rage from that evening into the prologue for my autobiography.”
Blaine pats him on the shoulder in that way that makes Finn assume that something super kinky is going on behind the scenes to make up for the fact that they act like monks in public. “Don’t forget the chapter about our memorable courtship.”
“Wish I could, Blaine.”
“Okay, so I hate to break up the trip down memory who-the-fuck-cares, but there’s kind of some crazy shit going on outside right now,” Finn reminds them with a tight lipped smile. “Remember?”
Blaine directs his attention back to Finn with renewed focus. “So they’re zombies, right? Rotten corpses, live on the flesh of the living--”
“Yes, Blaine. We get it,” Kurt cuts in, sparing them all from the redundant babbling that would have ensued otherwise.
“How fast can they move?” he asks, knitting his brows together like he’s still trying to work out the logistics. “I mean, they’re zombies. I feel like we could easily outrun them.”
Finn mutters something about ‘stubby legs’ but is only met with twin glares from his less than enthused audience.
“Well, you have your Dawn of the Dead zombies, but then you have to keep the remake in mind,” Kurt tells him as though he is speaking to a small child. “And don’t get be started on 28 Days Later. Come to think of it, the lab-generated sort of strain of the virus seems more than likely in this situation.”
Blaine looks flustered. (Finn mostly wonders if he has to poop.) “Who are you?” he asks, tugging Kurt in by shirt collar and pulling him in for a needy kiss.
“So much for being monks.” His commentary, however, has fallen upon deaf ears. Kurt is halfway into Blaine’s lap and it seems that the last thing on their mind is the five step plan.
And Finn will gloat about the benefits of that horror movie marathon they had last years at a later time, you know, when the entire staff of Sheets ‘n’ Things wasn’t currently trying to bring down their front door. “Um, guys?”
He turns his attention back to the board for a moment, looking over his game plan with a broad smile on his face.
Step 1: Arm yourselves
Blaine, who it turns out is an excellent multi-tasker, jumps right in with his suggestion. “Burt has a shotgun, right?”
Kurt pulls away momentarily from what has to be the World’s Most Obvious Hickey and smiles sheepishly. “No, sweetie. You just assumed he did. And he never corrected you.”
“Yeah, dude. I think he gets a kick out of how scared you are of him,” Finn snorts. “Besides, it doesn’t even matter. That’s why we’re going to go loot the Walmart.”
“I’m not stepping foot inside of a Walmart,” Kurt sniffs. “Synthetic fabrics give me hives.”
“Then why are you always asking to borrow my Dalton hoodie?”
Kurt is out of Blaine’s lap faster than Finn can blink. Or maybe he just blinked for a really long time. These everyday mysteries often escape him. “Right. So step two...”
“Build a barricade?” Kurt reads, not sounding too concerned. “Well, as long as the builders didn’t use Chinese drywall, I’m sure we’ll be fine. This house was built last year, Finn.”
“And what’s this about recruiting an army of zombie hunters?” Blaine adds. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“We can use the phone tree Rachel made for Glee Club!” Finn says, flipping to the next page on the easel, where the list of contact numbers has been reproduced in large, blocky lettering. “See! We can get the whole gang together.”
“Who’s Matt Rutherford?”
Kurt thinks on it for a moment, unable to come up with an answer. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”
“Like I said,” Blaine sighs. “It’s sounds like a lot of work. And it’s cold outside.”
“Also zombies!” Kurt nods.
“Yeah, zombies. And they aren’t even doing anything to us, you know? Why can’t we just all agree to co-exist peacefully?”
“Blaine?” Finn smiles, crossing the room and crouching down to the boy’s level. “You’re kind of an idiot.”
Media: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Finn
Word Count: ~1400 for this part
Summary: Oh the weather outside is frightful, but Finn's thoughts on zombie apolocolypse are so delightful...
Author's Note: Inspired by a conversation with certaintendencies, so you can blame her. Thank you blueb1rd for the beta. :D
“Zombies?”
“Zombies.“
Finn and Kurt are in the midst of, well, a bit of a face-off in the Hummel-Hudson foyer. Blaine is watching the scene unfold with two pairs of ice skates slung over one shoulder. The couple had originally planned on an idyllic day of ice skating at the nearby lake, followed shortly after by hot cocoa and cuddling on the couch. (No, really. There was a schedule. Blaine had gotten the alert on his blackberry the previous afternoon.) That was until Finn had blocked their path, of course.
“You don’t understand,” Finn says in a panicked tone. “This is the event I have been training for my entire life. I know what I’m talking about. It would be like telling that McKing dude that he knows nothing about Fashion Week.”
“Well, he’s halfway right,” Blaine adds unhelpfully.
Kurt’s boot collides with the ground right next to Blaine’s toes. “Not helping, Blaine,” he hisses. “There are no zombies, Finn. Now move your inconveniently-sized self out of my way, or I’m afraid that I’ll have to introduce you to the business side of my ice skates.”
But before he can retrieve the aforementioned boots from Blaine, a rotted hand collides with the window beside the front door.
“Braaaaaains.”
“Holy-”
“-snow ball fight!” Blaine cuts in, gesturing out the window. A few more zombies loom in the distance, the occasional snowball colliding with them. “Look, they’re hitting some of the zombies with snowballs. Neat!”
Finn scrubs an hand down his face. “Not an effective tactic. Come on, this isn’t rocket science, people.”
“Clearly,” Kurt scoffs, “or else you wouldn’t be the brains behind the operation.”
Blaine knows better than to get between the two brothers, and has taken to pressing his face against the window, watching the scene outside unfold. The zombie on the porch is still grumbling and clawing at the door. His name tag soon catches Blaine’s eye. Howard.
“He taught me how to fold a fitted sheet,” Blaine says as he strokes his fingers down the windowpane mournfully. “He changed my life.”
“Blaine, quit that.” Kurt smacks his hand away from the window. “I just washed those windows yesterday.”
Finn throws his hands up in exasperation. “Who cares? There aren’t going to be any windows when the zombies take over!”
“Finn, I highly doubt a couple of disgusting flesh bags are going to have any major effect on the infrastructure of our lovely home,” Kurt drawls. Despite his previous insistence on the non-existence of zombies, he has already moved on to filing his nails.
“Dude, how do you always have one of those nail thingys anyway?” Finn asks, entranced by the precise movements of the emery board.
“Sponsorship,” he answers without missing a beat.
Finn can never tell when he’s being sarcastic. It’s kind of a problem.
-
Despite Kurt’s initial hesitance, it’s not long before the three boys have regrouped in the basement. Finn is pacing back and forth in front of an easel that looks suspiciously like the one that had gone missing from the choir room before winter break.
“Is that--”
“My five step plan for surviving a zombie apocalypse?” Finn makes a gun gesture with one hand, waving his pen dangerously with the other. “You got it, Pleasantville. That’s your code name, by the way. Makes radio communications easier.”
Blaine frowns. “But I wanted a cool code name.”
“Mine’s Prom Queen,” Kurt sighs, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “I’ve already decided that I’m not answering to it, fate of the universe be damned.”
“What if we let you wear the tiara?” Finn offers, twirling the tiara with his pen. Where had it even come from?
“Ahhh, the trinket best representing my humiliation. Tempting.” Kurt makes a dismissive gesture. “I’ll pass. I’m still trying to channel my rage from that evening into the prologue for my autobiography.”
Blaine pats him on the shoulder in that way that makes Finn assume that something super kinky is going on behind the scenes to make up for the fact that they act like monks in public. “Don’t forget the chapter about our memorable courtship.”
“Wish I could, Blaine.”
“Okay, so I hate to break up the trip down memory who-the-fuck-cares, but there’s kind of some crazy shit going on outside right now,” Finn reminds them with a tight lipped smile. “Remember?”
Blaine directs his attention back to Finn with renewed focus. “So they’re zombies, right? Rotten corpses, live on the flesh of the living--”
“Yes, Blaine. We get it,” Kurt cuts in, sparing them all from the redundant babbling that would have ensued otherwise.
“How fast can they move?” he asks, knitting his brows together like he’s still trying to work out the logistics. “I mean, they’re zombies. I feel like we could easily outrun them.”
Finn mutters something about ‘stubby legs’ but is only met with twin glares from his less than enthused audience.
“Well, you have your Dawn of the Dead zombies, but then you have to keep the remake in mind,” Kurt tells him as though he is speaking to a small child. “And don’t get be started on 28 Days Later. Come to think of it, the lab-generated sort of strain of the virus seems more than likely in this situation.”
Blaine looks flustered. (Finn mostly wonders if he has to poop.) “Who are you?” he asks, tugging Kurt in by shirt collar and pulling him in for a needy kiss.
“So much for being monks.” His commentary, however, has fallen upon deaf ears. Kurt is halfway into Blaine’s lap and it seems that the last thing on their mind is the five step plan.
And Finn will gloat about the benefits of that horror movie marathon they had last years at a later time, you know, when the entire staff of Sheets ‘n’ Things wasn’t currently trying to bring down their front door. “Um, guys?”
He turns his attention back to the board for a moment, looking over his game plan with a broad smile on his face.
Step 1: Arm yourselves
Blaine, who it turns out is an excellent multi-tasker, jumps right in with his suggestion. “Burt has a shotgun, right?”
Kurt pulls away momentarily from what has to be the World’s Most Obvious Hickey and smiles sheepishly. “No, sweetie. You just assumed he did. And he never corrected you.”
“Yeah, dude. I think he gets a kick out of how scared you are of him,” Finn snorts. “Besides, it doesn’t even matter. That’s why we’re going to go loot the Walmart.”
“I’m not stepping foot inside of a Walmart,” Kurt sniffs. “Synthetic fabrics give me hives.”
“Then why are you always asking to borrow my Dalton hoodie?”
Kurt is out of Blaine’s lap faster than Finn can blink. Or maybe he just blinked for a really long time. These everyday mysteries often escape him. “Right. So step two...”
“Build a barricade?” Kurt reads, not sounding too concerned. “Well, as long as the builders didn’t use Chinese drywall, I’m sure we’ll be fine. This house was built last year, Finn.”
“And what’s this about recruiting an army of zombie hunters?” Blaine adds. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“We can use the phone tree Rachel made for Glee Club!” Finn says, flipping to the next page on the easel, where the list of contact numbers has been reproduced in large, blocky lettering. “See! We can get the whole gang together.”
“Who’s Matt Rutherford?”
Kurt thinks on it for a moment, unable to come up with an answer. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”
“Like I said,” Blaine sighs. “It’s sounds like a lot of work. And it’s cold outside.”
“Also zombies!” Kurt nods.
“Yeah, zombies. And they aren’t even doing anything to us, you know? Why can’t we just all agree to co-exist peacefully?”
“Blaine?” Finn smiles, crossing the room and crouching down to the boy’s level. “You’re kind of an idiot.”