GLEE: (Day Four) Of Seven
Title: (Day Four) Of Seven
author: infraredphaeton
summary: Liam goes to McKinley. David can't speak French. Kurt tutors Blaine in Spanish. Wes and David finally play TF2. Santana flirts with Liam. Eric declares that Liam is his boyfriend.
(HA NOW I KNOW YOU WANT TO READ IT)
warnings: Eric. OC!Warblers, head!canon, flirting without relationship progression, implied angst, bullying, crack
rating: PG-13
“Tell me when class finishes,” David told Kurt, leaning back in his chair. A pencil was balanced between his upper lip and his nose, and his eyes were following the lazy turn of the ceiling fan, completely ignoring the class.
“David! En Francais!” snapped their French teacher, a dark haired woman with her hair in a neat and elegant bun and a fantastically European sense of style.
If Kurt was straight, he would have proposed the second he saw her outfit.
“Oui, Madame.” David droned, and sat up properly, “Kurt, est-ce-que tu parle-moi quand la classe...est finis?”
Kurt winced, and Madame Lamberte looked pained.
“I have been teaching you French for four years, David Hardison!”
“Oui, Madame. Je sais.”
“Je ramasse les devoirs,” she gestured, putting a hand to her temple in a particularly Gallic display of frustration.
There was a shuffle of papers as various boys gathered their work.
“Madame?”
“Oui, David?”
“Je suis oublie mes devoirs.”
Kurt winced again.
“Liam! Range ton portable!”
Liam guiltily put his phone away.
Mme. Lamberte shook her head, and sat down. “I give up. Boys, silence, s’il vous plait! On regarde la video.”
Kurt leaned over to David and muttered, “You are the worst language student ever.”
“The only french I know is voulez vous couchez avec moi, c’est soir,” David admitted cheerfully.
“Tais-toi, David!”
“Oui Madame!” David chirped.
“So, did you enjoy French with David the Monolinguistic?” Blaine asked, when Kurt greeted Wes and him at the door to the Spanish room.
“That makes me sound like a knight!” David grinned, and Wes patted the top of his head.
“Sometimes, I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a baby,” Blaine said crankily, falling into step with Kurt.
“Just because you failed your oral, there’s no need to be mean to David,” Wes chided him, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“You failed your Spanish?”
Blaine shrugged unhappily, “Probably. I’m not fussed about it.” He tucked a stray hair back, “It’s just a stupid oral. It’s not important.”
“I mean, it’s not like it’s one that’s being recorded properly or anything. The rest of my grades are good enough to make up for it.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Wow, Blaine. You’re so relaxed and unbothered by that presentation. You’re obviously completely fine with that failing grade,” Wes said in a dead pan tone of voice.
“I’m not going to fail!” Blaine snapped, “I’m fine! It’ll be fine! I’ve got a make-up oral tomorrow.”
“You know, I’m fluent in Spanish,” Kurt said, “I can help you, if you like?”
Blaine darted a look at him, and smiled charmingly, “I’d like that.”
Kurt smiled back.
“They’re adorable.” Wes whispered in David’s ear.
“I think they’re going to give me diabetes,” David agreed.
“So, what’s your oral on?” Kurt asked, and Blaine shrugged.
“I was going to do it on Spanish culture, music in particular, but I don’t know that much about it.”
“Well, why don’t you two sickeningly adorable love birds go do some research, then,” Wes suggested, “while David and I go...do something...else.”
“Far away from the library.”
“Where you will be researching.”
“It’ll take us a while to do that something, won’t it, Wes?”
“Indeed it will. That something may take us up to an hour.” Wes agreed, nodding.
“So go. Research. We will not be watching. Feel free to be as romantic as you like!” David said solemnly, clapping each boy on the back with one hand.
Kurt nodded agreeably, and grabbed Blaine by the hand, “The library is this way, right?”
Blaine, who reddened when Kurt grabbed his hand, nodded, allowing him to tug them down a hallway.
“You know, something about that hallway makes everything look weirdly slow.”
Wes shook his head in bemusement at David’s comment.
“Wes, shall we?” David asked, offering his friend his arm.
“Let’s shall, David.” Wes replied, looping his hand through it, “Ice cream and Team Fortress waits for no man.”
“I want chocolate chip cookie dough.”
“We can do that,” Wes agreed magnanimously.
“Does it ever occur to you that we eat too much ice cream?” David asked, as they walked back towards the cafeteria.
“Bite your tongue, heathen.” Wes scolded him.
Blaine carried Kurt’s books for him until they found seats in one of the quieter parts of the library, waving to Mrs. Neog on the way past the desk. She nodded back, and waved them on.
“That’s your librarian?” Kurt asked, “She doesn’t look happy with you.”
“No kidding. Wes and David have given me a bad reputation in these parts.”
“Causing a ruckus in the library,” Kurt grinned, thinking back to the GList, “You bad boy.”
“I can’t help it. It’s just the way I roll,” Blaine smiled charmingly, and guided him past a set of shelves with a hand on the small of Kurt’s back.
“Oh yeah. I can tell. You’re such a rebel,” Kurt said dryly, looking at Blaine’s neatly tied tie and fully buttoned shirt.
Blaine just kept smiling, and set their text books down at one of the larger carrels, with enough desk space for two to sit, if they were friendly.
Or three, if two of the three were Wes and David.
“This is... nice,” Kurt said to Blaine, taking a seat next to him.
“What is?” Blaine asked, smiling, as Kurt pulled a well-thumbed notebook out of his satchel, “Studying Spanish?”
Kurt coloured a little, “Spending time with you. It’s nice being here for school and everything, and Wes and David are really fun, but..”
“It’s not the same,” Blaine finished for him, pulling out his own notebook.
“Yeah.” Kurt smiled.
“So, uh. Spanish.” Blaine coughed, opening the book.
“Right, Spanish. Let me see your oral.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow.
“...Presentation.” Kurt finished, “Your oral presentation on Spanish music.”
“Of course,” Blaine gave him a warm smile, and flicked through the pages.
“You study European Spanish, right?” Kurt asked, fiddling with a pen, and Blaine nodded.
“España es famosa para su música. Utilizan mucha guitarra y...”
“Uh, hey, I’m looking for Eric?”
Santana looked up from her nails to see a hot specimen of man meat standing in the door jamb, smiling confidently.
Dark, curling hair, cut just short enough to stop it looking preppy. The body of a boy who’d joined every sport known to the American school system. The face of a movie star- quite literally. He looked like Robert Downey Jr.’s farm grown clone.
And the uniform of a private school boy, with the top button flicked open and the tie loose, so she could see the top of his collar bones. They were very nice collar bones, and his chest looked equally impressive, from what she could see.
“Hi. I’m Santana.” she said flirtily, “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”
Soon to be boy-toy frowned appealingly, “I’m Liam? Liam Van Shriek? I’m looking for Eric Lennhardt. I was told he’d be here for Glee club now?”
“He’ll get here eventually, if he doesn’t get lost in the air shafts.” Santana dismissed, waving a freshly manicured hand in the air and crossing her legs, so her skirt rode up another few extra inches, “Do you want to ask me out?”
Liam blinked, “You’re really hot, and some other time, I totally would?”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I’m looking for Eric?” he prompted. She shrugged dismissively. “You know what? I’ll just...go look for him myself?”
“Your loss,” Santana said, and flipped her ponytail, “Call me!”
Liam nodded, and slipped out of the room.
“Hey! Fancy boy!”
“Really, Johnson, you can just call me Eric,” Eric told the group of jocks gathered around the base of the trophy case.
“When you come down here, we’re gonna kill you!”
“Really. That’s really what you think will happen?” Eric asked boredly, “This tactic hasn’t worked any other time. You tried tossing a slushie at me- I ducked at it hit your good friend Azimio. You tried beating me up. I am sitting eight feet up in the air, and you are, at most, six and three inches. By the way, you’re developing a premature bald spot. You should look into that.”
“Eric?” said a familiar, and, at the moment, unwelcome voice.
“Liam?” Eric blinked, and cocked his head to one side, “Are you dead?”
“...No. I came to check up on you because you haven’t called in over a day.”
“Obviously this is a sign of distress.” Eric said dryly.
“From anyone else, no. From you...” Liam straightened his tie, “I was a little worried.”
“Hey, fancy boy, is this your boyfriend?” asked Karofsky, and the group turned to face Liam.
“Yes.” Eric said.
“No,” Liam shook his head, at exactly the same time.
“Sounds like you need to come out of the closet,” Azimio smirked, “or maybe we oughta put you in one.”
“Or a porta-potty!” Johnson suggested.
“What are you going to do?” Eric sneered, “You can’t touch me.”
Liam sighed heavily, “Yes, Eric. But I’m on the ground, yeah?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, little bit.”
“In that case...” Eric jumped off the trophy case, rolling upon landing, and coming up right next to Liam, “I suggest we run.”
Liam looked at the five jocks, “I think I could take them.”
“Liam, Wes Heely couldn’t take them, and he knows Krav Maga. We run.”
Liam frowned, but as the group stampeded towards them, he sighed.
“Okay, we run.”
“You know, this is why I wanted to teach you parkour.”
“Shut up and run, Eric.”
“So you think they’ve kissed yet?” David asked Wes, sniping a rather irritating Red spy.
“Blaine? Kiss somebody without written permission from their parents?” Wes gasped in shock, shooting some sticky grenades at the edge of the payload.
“True,” David agreed, “ooh, headshot! SPAH DOWN!”
Wes shook his head, and hit a soldier in the face with his broken bottle, “The boy has no game.”
“You know that’s right. Boy needs help.”
“I know just the pair of devastatingly handsome young men to help him.” Wes grinned.
“We’re going to ask Harry and Liam to help?”
“...No. No, Davey, I meant us.”
“Oh. Right.” David shrugged, and hit the space bar furiously, “Ooh, stupid pyros.”
“Eric, why did you say I was your boyfriend?” Liam asked.
They were sitting at the top of the bleachers, watching a squad of cheerleaders practice their basket tosses. Eric had been shivering, so Liam had given him the blazer off his back- far too big for him in length and the breadth of the shoulders, so it puddled around his legs on the seat. Liam had pulled off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, and was leaning forward, resting his head in his hands.
“Because you are?” Eric asked slowly, like it was a trick question.
“They don’t mean friend who is a boy, Eric. They mean...” Liam tried to think of a parallel Eric would understand, “They mean like Blaine and Kurt.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Eric’s eyes widened, “They think we? With the? And...kissing?”
“I think you’re getting it now.”
“What if Rachel thinks I’m gay, and decides not to leave Finn after all?” Eric panicked.
“She’s leaving Finn?” Liam asked in surprise.
“Well, no. She hasn’t said so. But I’m sure she will, soon enough.”
“Right.” Liam smiled a little, and bumped Eric with his shoulder, “I’ve kinda missed you, man.”
“I’m not gay.”
“That was being friendly?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah...” Liam ran a hand through his hair, “awkward.”
Eric clumsily bumped him back.
“I kinda missed you too.”
They sat in silence for a little while.
It was nice.
“Alright. I think you’ve slaughtered the topic of flamenco enough to get an A. Just remember, it’s por. Not para. You keep writing para where it should say por.” Kurt finished correcting Blaine’s paper.
“Por, not para.” Blaine nodded, “Understood.”
Kurt twitched a smile, “No doubt.”
The two boys’ heads were close together as they read over the paper one last time.
“It looks good, Blaine,” Kurt announced, turning away from the paper. Blaine was very close. Close enough that Kurt could smell mint on his breath and count his eye lashes, if he felt so inclined.
“Thanks, Kurt. This means a lot to me.” Blaine smiled. This close, the effect was magnified, and Kurt felt himself beginning smile back ridiculously.
“No problem.” Kurt whispered, not moving back, and Blaine’s smile grew warmer. Kurt held his breath as Blaine put a hand on his shoulder, and...
Blaine pulled back, putting the corrected oral into his bag, and zipped the case up, not looking at Kurt.
“Thanks for your help, Kurt, really.”
Kurt’s smile weakened a little bit. “Really, it was no problem.”
author: infraredphaeton
summary: Liam goes to McKinley. David can't speak French. Kurt tutors Blaine in Spanish. Wes and David finally play TF2. Santana flirts with Liam. Eric declares that Liam is his boyfriend.
(HA NOW I KNOW YOU WANT TO READ IT)
warnings: Eric. OC!Warblers, head!canon, flirting without relationship progression, implied angst, bullying, crack
rating: PG-13
“Tell me when class finishes,” David told Kurt, leaning back in his chair. A pencil was balanced between his upper lip and his nose, and his eyes were following the lazy turn of the ceiling fan, completely ignoring the class.
“David! En Francais!” snapped their French teacher, a dark haired woman with her hair in a neat and elegant bun and a fantastically European sense of style.
If Kurt was straight, he would have proposed the second he saw her outfit.
“Oui, Madame.” David droned, and sat up properly, “Kurt, est-ce-que tu parle-moi quand la classe...est finis?”
Kurt winced, and Madame Lamberte looked pained.
“I have been teaching you French for four years, David Hardison!”
“Oui, Madame. Je sais.”
“Je ramasse les devoirs,” she gestured, putting a hand to her temple in a particularly Gallic display of frustration.
There was a shuffle of papers as various boys gathered their work.
“Madame?”
“Oui, David?”
“Je suis oublie mes devoirs.”
Kurt winced again.
“Liam! Range ton portable!”
Liam guiltily put his phone away.
Mme. Lamberte shook her head, and sat down. “I give up. Boys, silence, s’il vous plait! On regarde la video.”
Kurt leaned over to David and muttered, “You are the worst language student ever.”
“The only french I know is voulez vous couchez avec moi, c’est soir,” David admitted cheerfully.
“Tais-toi, David!”
“Oui Madame!” David chirped.
“So, did you enjoy French with David the Monolinguistic?” Blaine asked, when Kurt greeted Wes and him at the door to the Spanish room.
“That makes me sound like a knight!” David grinned, and Wes patted the top of his head.
“Sometimes, I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a baby,” Blaine said crankily, falling into step with Kurt.
“Just because you failed your oral, there’s no need to be mean to David,” Wes chided him, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“You failed your Spanish?”
Blaine shrugged unhappily, “Probably. I’m not fussed about it.” He tucked a stray hair back, “It’s just a stupid oral. It’s not important.”
“I mean, it’s not like it’s one that’s being recorded properly or anything. The rest of my grades are good enough to make up for it.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Wow, Blaine. You’re so relaxed and unbothered by that presentation. You’re obviously completely fine with that failing grade,” Wes said in a dead pan tone of voice.
“I’m not going to fail!” Blaine snapped, “I’m fine! It’ll be fine! I’ve got a make-up oral tomorrow.”
“You know, I’m fluent in Spanish,” Kurt said, “I can help you, if you like?”
Blaine darted a look at him, and smiled charmingly, “I’d like that.”
Kurt smiled back.
“They’re adorable.” Wes whispered in David’s ear.
“I think they’re going to give me diabetes,” David agreed.
“So, what’s your oral on?” Kurt asked, and Blaine shrugged.
“I was going to do it on Spanish culture, music in particular, but I don’t know that much about it.”
“Well, why don’t you two sickeningly adorable love birds go do some research, then,” Wes suggested, “while David and I go...do something...else.”
“Far away from the library.”
“Where you will be researching.”
“It’ll take us a while to do that something, won’t it, Wes?”
“Indeed it will. That something may take us up to an hour.” Wes agreed, nodding.
“So go. Research. We will not be watching. Feel free to be as romantic as you like!” David said solemnly, clapping each boy on the back with one hand.
Kurt nodded agreeably, and grabbed Blaine by the hand, “The library is this way, right?”
Blaine, who reddened when Kurt grabbed his hand, nodded, allowing him to tug them down a hallway.
“You know, something about that hallway makes everything look weirdly slow.”
Wes shook his head in bemusement at David’s comment.
“Wes, shall we?” David asked, offering his friend his arm.
“Let’s shall, David.” Wes replied, looping his hand through it, “Ice cream and Team Fortress waits for no man.”
“I want chocolate chip cookie dough.”
“We can do that,” Wes agreed magnanimously.
“Does it ever occur to you that we eat too much ice cream?” David asked, as they walked back towards the cafeteria.
“Bite your tongue, heathen.” Wes scolded him.
Blaine carried Kurt’s books for him until they found seats in one of the quieter parts of the library, waving to Mrs. Neog on the way past the desk. She nodded back, and waved them on.
“That’s your librarian?” Kurt asked, “She doesn’t look happy with you.”
“No kidding. Wes and David have given me a bad reputation in these parts.”
“Causing a ruckus in the library,” Kurt grinned, thinking back to the GList, “You bad boy.”
“I can’t help it. It’s just the way I roll,” Blaine smiled charmingly, and guided him past a set of shelves with a hand on the small of Kurt’s back.
“Oh yeah. I can tell. You’re such a rebel,” Kurt said dryly, looking at Blaine’s neatly tied tie and fully buttoned shirt.
Blaine just kept smiling, and set their text books down at one of the larger carrels, with enough desk space for two to sit, if they were friendly.
Or three, if two of the three were Wes and David.
“This is... nice,” Kurt said to Blaine, taking a seat next to him.
“What is?” Blaine asked, smiling, as Kurt pulled a well-thumbed notebook out of his satchel, “Studying Spanish?”
Kurt coloured a little, “Spending time with you. It’s nice being here for school and everything, and Wes and David are really fun, but..”
“It’s not the same,” Blaine finished for him, pulling out his own notebook.
“Yeah.” Kurt smiled.
“So, uh. Spanish.” Blaine coughed, opening the book.
“Right, Spanish. Let me see your oral.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow.
“...Presentation.” Kurt finished, “Your oral presentation on Spanish music.”
“Of course,” Blaine gave him a warm smile, and flicked through the pages.
“You study European Spanish, right?” Kurt asked, fiddling with a pen, and Blaine nodded.
“España es famosa para su música. Utilizan mucha guitarra y...”
“Uh, hey, I’m looking for Eric?”
Santana looked up from her nails to see a hot specimen of man meat standing in the door jamb, smiling confidently.
Dark, curling hair, cut just short enough to stop it looking preppy. The body of a boy who’d joined every sport known to the American school system. The face of a movie star- quite literally. He looked like Robert Downey Jr.’s farm grown clone.
And the uniform of a private school boy, with the top button flicked open and the tie loose, so she could see the top of his collar bones. They were very nice collar bones, and his chest looked equally impressive, from what she could see.
“Hi. I’m Santana.” she said flirtily, “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”
Soon to be boy-toy frowned appealingly, “I’m Liam? Liam Van Shriek? I’m looking for Eric Lennhardt. I was told he’d be here for Glee club now?”
“He’ll get here eventually, if he doesn’t get lost in the air shafts.” Santana dismissed, waving a freshly manicured hand in the air and crossing her legs, so her skirt rode up another few extra inches, “Do you want to ask me out?”
Liam blinked, “You’re really hot, and some other time, I totally would?”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I’m looking for Eric?” he prompted. She shrugged dismissively. “You know what? I’ll just...go look for him myself?”
“Your loss,” Santana said, and flipped her ponytail, “Call me!”
Liam nodded, and slipped out of the room.
“Hey! Fancy boy!”
“Really, Johnson, you can just call me Eric,” Eric told the group of jocks gathered around the base of the trophy case.
“When you come down here, we’re gonna kill you!”
“Really. That’s really what you think will happen?” Eric asked boredly, “This tactic hasn’t worked any other time. You tried tossing a slushie at me- I ducked at it hit your good friend Azimio. You tried beating me up. I am sitting eight feet up in the air, and you are, at most, six and three inches. By the way, you’re developing a premature bald spot. You should look into that.”
“Eric?” said a familiar, and, at the moment, unwelcome voice.
“Liam?” Eric blinked, and cocked his head to one side, “Are you dead?”
“...No. I came to check up on you because you haven’t called in over a day.”
“Obviously this is a sign of distress.” Eric said dryly.
“From anyone else, no. From you...” Liam straightened his tie, “I was a little worried.”
“Hey, fancy boy, is this your boyfriend?” asked Karofsky, and the group turned to face Liam.
“Yes.” Eric said.
“No,” Liam shook his head, at exactly the same time.
“Sounds like you need to come out of the closet,” Azimio smirked, “or maybe we oughta put you in one.”
“Or a porta-potty!” Johnson suggested.
“What are you going to do?” Eric sneered, “You can’t touch me.”
Liam sighed heavily, “Yes, Eric. But I’m on the ground, yeah?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, little bit.”
“In that case...” Eric jumped off the trophy case, rolling upon landing, and coming up right next to Liam, “I suggest we run.”
Liam looked at the five jocks, “I think I could take them.”
“Liam, Wes Heely couldn’t take them, and he knows Krav Maga. We run.”
Liam frowned, but as the group stampeded towards them, he sighed.
“Okay, we run.”
“You know, this is why I wanted to teach you parkour.”
“Shut up and run, Eric.”
“So you think they’ve kissed yet?” David asked Wes, sniping a rather irritating Red spy.
“Blaine? Kiss somebody without written permission from their parents?” Wes gasped in shock, shooting some sticky grenades at the edge of the payload.
“True,” David agreed, “ooh, headshot! SPAH DOWN!”
Wes shook his head, and hit a soldier in the face with his broken bottle, “The boy has no game.”
“You know that’s right. Boy needs help.”
“I know just the pair of devastatingly handsome young men to help him.” Wes grinned.
“We’re going to ask Harry and Liam to help?”
“...No. No, Davey, I meant us.”
“Oh. Right.” David shrugged, and hit the space bar furiously, “Ooh, stupid pyros.”
“Eric, why did you say I was your boyfriend?” Liam asked.
They were sitting at the top of the bleachers, watching a squad of cheerleaders practice their basket tosses. Eric had been shivering, so Liam had given him the blazer off his back- far too big for him in length and the breadth of the shoulders, so it puddled around his legs on the seat. Liam had pulled off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, and was leaning forward, resting his head in his hands.
“Because you are?” Eric asked slowly, like it was a trick question.
“They don’t mean friend who is a boy, Eric. They mean...” Liam tried to think of a parallel Eric would understand, “They mean like Blaine and Kurt.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Eric’s eyes widened, “They think we? With the? And...kissing?”
“I think you’re getting it now.”
“What if Rachel thinks I’m gay, and decides not to leave Finn after all?” Eric panicked.
“She’s leaving Finn?” Liam asked in surprise.
“Well, no. She hasn’t said so. But I’m sure she will, soon enough.”
“Right.” Liam smiled a little, and bumped Eric with his shoulder, “I’ve kinda missed you, man.”
“I’m not gay.”
“That was being friendly?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah...” Liam ran a hand through his hair, “awkward.”
Eric clumsily bumped him back.
“I kinda missed you too.”
They sat in silence for a little while.
It was nice.
“Alright. I think you’ve slaughtered the topic of flamenco enough to get an A. Just remember, it’s por. Not para. You keep writing para where it should say por.” Kurt finished correcting Blaine’s paper.
“Por, not para.” Blaine nodded, “Understood.”
Kurt twitched a smile, “No doubt.”
The two boys’ heads were close together as they read over the paper one last time.
“It looks good, Blaine,” Kurt announced, turning away from the paper. Blaine was very close. Close enough that Kurt could smell mint on his breath and count his eye lashes, if he felt so inclined.
“Thanks, Kurt. This means a lot to me.” Blaine smiled. This close, the effect was magnified, and Kurt felt himself beginning smile back ridiculously.
“No problem.” Kurt whispered, not moving back, and Blaine’s smile grew warmer. Kurt held his breath as Blaine put a hand on his shoulder, and...
Blaine pulled back, putting the corrected oral into his bag, and zipped the case up, not looking at Kurt.
“Thanks for your help, Kurt, really.”
Kurt’s smile weakened a little bit. “Really, it was no problem.”