FIC: "At The End of Each Day" (3a/?)
Title: At the End of Each Day (3/?)
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Finn + Kurt, canonical pairings (Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Finn/Quinn, Burt/Carole, brief Blaine/Rachel, etc.)
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters belong to Ryan Murphy Television and 20th Century Fox Television.
Spoilers: For this chapter, up until 2.11. Eventually, everything.
Thanks: To my beta, the lovely tekalynn. I don't know what I'd do without her.
Summary: At the end of each day, they go home and talk. Except for the days when they don't. My own spin on the "lady chats over warm milk".
A/N: A "week" in an episode of Glee rarely lasts 7 days. Observing changes of clothes and things that obviously couldn't have happened on the same day, I counted 9 school days between the two football games in The Sue Sylvester Shuffle, even though they're supposedly one week apart, according to the characters. So, yeah, I'm aware my dates make no sense. I did my best.
Previously:
Chapter 1 - Of Parties and Betrayals
Chapter 2 - Of Ornaments and Adjustments
At the End of Each Day
by Morgan D.
Chapter 3 - Of Décor and Miscommunication
1.
"Die! Die! You freaking creepy bastard! Just die already!"
"You know, your mom wanted to bet that the first thing you'd take out of the boxes after we moved here would be the X-Box. I'm so glad I didn't take the bet."
Finn glanced away from the screen for just a second. "Oh, hey, Burt. I didn't hear you arrive."
"Kid, I don't think you'd have heard a tank knocking down the walls! Bring down the volume, will ya?"
Finn paused the game to comply. "Sorry."
"Bad day?"
"Why do you ask?"
Burt indicated the screen with a nod of his head. "That was my bad day therapy too when I was about your age. Of course, for me it was Defender at the arcade. Much simpler. Still, the same idea. Put all the crap you're feeling inside into pulverizing aliens."
"Yeah, you get it," said Finn meekly. "Although these are brain-sucking plants."
Burt looked around at the room still crammed with boxes, and found a place to sit on the edge of Christopher Hudson's old recliner. "So. What happened? Titans lost the game?"
"Oh man..." Finn put the controllers down with a huff. "We were three points ahead with five seconds to go... We had it! But that maniac Karofsky just had to ruin it for all of us!"
Burt tensed up immediately. "What did he do?"
Finn shook his head. "I shouldn't have let him get to me."
"Finn? What. Did. He. Do?"
"He threatened to let the linebacker through to sack me. On purpose."
"Are you serious?! That kid is a psychopath!"
"Well, yeah... except that when the play started, he did try to block the linebacker. I mean, the guy came through after two seconds, so I'm not sure how much effort Karofsky put into blocking him... but then it'd have been too late if only I had done my job right. I let myself get distracted by freaking Karofsky and his stupid rants about glee club... and I dropped the ball. They won, 20-17."
"Damn," grumbled Burt in sympathy. "You guys still made it to the championship, though, right?"
"Yeah. But the team is divided between glee clubbers and non-glee clubbers, and it's getting to the point where we don't work as a team anywhere. And I'm the captain, I should know how to fix this, but I don't."
"Talked to your coach about it?"
"Oh, she saw firsthand how bad things are," said Finn wryly. "Karofsky flat out told her he would not block for me."
Burt was astonished. "And her?"
"She yelled at him, yelled at all of us, ordered us to get out of her sight. Don't know what she's gonna do, though."
"And Karofsky... the reason why he's badgering you... is it just the glee club?"
Finn looked away, visibly uncomfortable.
"Finn, you need to tell me those things. Or your mom. Kurt has this crazy instinct to protect me when it's supposed to be the other way around, and you just saw how that went down."
"He... he's acting like he's won," Finn said tiredly. "He's proud that Kurt's left. Keeps going on and on about how if he keeps giving me a hard time I'll run away the same way Kurt did."
Burt eyed Finn with a measuring look. "Is that what you think?"
Finn blinked. "What?"
"That Kurt ran away? You think he should've stayed and... and fought? Resisted? Manned up?"
"No," said Finn a little too quickly. Then, after a sigh, "No. I was pissed at first, when I found out about the transfer... but not because... It's just... It shouldn't be like this!" Finn shouted in frustration. "I get why he had to leave. School sucks enough as it is, he shouldn't have to risk his life just to be there, that's insane! It doesn't make him a coward." He snorted. "Whatever anyone says about Kurt, no one can call him a coward."
"All right," Burt nodded. "I needed to be sure you understood that."
"I do. It's like with the plants," said Finn, pointing at the frozen image on the screen. "When they're brown or green, you shoot them up with the Omicron Plasma Rifle, or cut them down with the Laser Machete, and you just keep going. But when they turn red, that means their roots found lava under the ground, and if you hit them they'll bleed blistering sap all over you, and wherever it touches you, your flesh will melt off. So you need to retreat and be smart and find another way through." He shrugged. "I mean, there's bravery, and then there's being a total moron."
Burt smiled. "I couldn't have put it better myself." He patted Finn on the shoulder and got on his feet. "I think I hear Kurt's car."
"Burt?"'
"Hmm?"
"Please don't tell him about Karofsky. It's not his problem anymore. He shouldn't have to think about him."
Burt considered the request for a minute. "I won't mention it to him... if you give me your word that you will tell me or your mom if Karofsky makes any new threats against you. Immediately."
"I promise."
Burt patted his shoulder again and left.
Finn resumed the game, but his concentration was lost, and his avatar suffered a rather gruesome demise ten minutes later. He was about to restart the level when Kurt showed up at the threshold, carrying two steaming mugs.
"May I interest you in some warm milk?"
Finn grinned and reached out to take one of the mugs. "Thanks, dude."
Kurt looked around the room in dismay. "Honestly, Finn, I don't know how you manage. It's been six days already, and you haven't even unpacked your clothes!"
"Don't have anywhere to put them," said Finn, taking a first cautious sip of the milk to check its temperature.
"Because you haven't assembled your wardrobe yet! Would you like me to help? We'd be done in a few minutes..."
"No!"
Kurt frowned. "I'm not talking about redecorating, Finn. It's your own old wardrobe, I'm just offering some help putting it back together."
"I know," said Finn, a little calmer. "I just... It's my bedroom, okay? I want to do this on my own."
Kurt's posture stiffened, but he didn't argue. "So... anything interesting happen today?"
Finn restarted the game. "Not really."
"I see."
"The Titans lost."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
Finn kept on massacring virtual monster vegetables. Not finding anything else to say, Kurt went to his own room to check on Pavarotti.
2.
"Hi..."
"I just want you to know that all of us are mad as hell right now!"
"...Mercedes?"
"I mean it, Kurt, we're this close to going all Jason Voorhees and doing some serious cutting!"
"What did I do?!"
"Not you! Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste, of course!"
"Mercedes, what are you talking about?"
A pause. "Finn didn't tell you?"
"All Finn said when I got home today was 'Grumble-grumble-grumble-grumble,' which is Finn for 'Hello, how are you?' when he's in a pissy mood. What happened?"
"Well, guess who we have now as new members of New Directions?"
"New members, plural?" Kurt put the cell on speakerphone and placed it on the kitchen island as he picked the milk carton from the fridge. "I thought Puck had to whore himself out just to get Zizes for Sectionals."
"Oh, they didn't want to join. And we don't want them in either. It's all Schue and Beiste's doing."
"What is? Mercedes..."
"Karofsky."
The carton slipped from Kurt's fingers, fortunately landing upside up on the counter. "Wha-what?!"
"Azimio. Briggs. Strando. McCulloch. Rashad. All the meatheads from the football team."
"Rashad is a decent guy," Kurt protested, looking for clean mugs in one of the cupboards. "I wouldn't have gotten you a date with him if he was a real meathead."
"Fine!" Mercedes' tone was dismissive. "At least he seemed to be digging Puck and Rachel's Lady Antebellum number... until Karofsky caught him swaying to the beat and made him stop. You know what, I'm glad I didn't go out with him after all. Any guy who lets creepy-ass Karofsky order him around is no man for Mercedes Jones!"
"Are you really serious? The whole football team is in glee club?"
"That's what I'm telling you, boy! Can you believe it?"
Kurt started opening every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, unable to find any mugs. "Wow. Just... wow. I'm sorry to say this, honey, but I think the Warblers' chances at Regionals have just improved dramatically."
"Oh, no, at least it's not that bad. They'll only stay for a week, thank God."
"Then what's the point?!" Kurt tried the dishwasher, didn't see the mugs he wanted, and banged the machine closed.
"I don't know, something about creating unity between the jocks in glee and the jocks not in glee. They have the big championship game next week... Finn told you that, right?"
"Yeah. Well, no. Blaine did. I mean, he's more interested in college football, but when I told him my stepbrother was the quarterback, he... well... he likes to know what's going on in my life, I guess." Kurt smiled to himself, giving the search a rest. That was when he spotted the two mugs on the kitchen island, right next to the phone.
"Well, apparently there's been tons of fighting inside the team, and Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue think spending a week with us will make things better."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Because of the power of the music in soothing wild beasts?"
"Because maybe we all can find some common ground or, I don't know, become friends by making music together?"
"You don't sound very optimistic."
Mercedes snorted. "Should I be?"
"You'll have to admit that some rather unlikely friendships were born in New Directions."
"Well, first, that did not happen overnight or in a week. It took us all a long time to get to know each other and even more to admit that we're really friends. And second, I do not want to be friends with Dave Karofsky! Not in a million years!"
Kurt stared thoughtfully at the two mugs, as if he couldn't remember what they were for. "I... cannot imagine Karofsky in glee. It's like... picturing a life-sized trumpeting mammoth in the ball scene of Sense and Sensibility."
"Oh, Kurt, I never thought I'd ever say that, but for the first time, and for this week only, I am glad you transferred. I really can't understand how Mr. Schue thought we'd be okay with any of this."
Kurt shook himself out of his stupor, and poured the milk into the mugs. "What's the assignment of the week? Songs about football? Blaine probably knows some, I could ask him for suggestions. Unless it's for the Regionals program, of course."
"Mr. Schue didn't have the chance to give us an assignment. The whole choir room broke into a fight as soon as Puck and Rachel finished singing. And I'll tell you this: that puny McCulloch will be coming to school tomorrow with the mark of the sole of my sneakers on his face!"
"Well, I'd say that'd be a major improvement," said Kurt with a smirk. He put the milk carton back in the fridge, placed the mugs in the microwave, set the time and turned it on.
"Damn." Mercedes sounded sad now, all anger gone from her voice. "I really miss you, Kurt."
Kurt picked the phone up, silencing the speaker, and murmured into it. "I miss you too. You have no idea."
"Let's do something together. When can we meet?"
"Oh, we should. And I want to. But with the move and all, I'm so behind with my homework, it's not even funny. And parts of the house still look like a disaster zone."
"It doesn't have to be a big thing. Let's just have coffee or something."
"Well, Blaine and I go to the Lima Bean every day after rehearsal."
"Blaine, huh?"
"Come on, Mercedes, give him a chance."
"Say what, you bring Blaine, and I'll bring Rachel. She keeps him busy yakking about her favorite subject..."
"Herself."
"...while you and I catch up."
Kurt giggled. "Perfect. I'm looking forward to properly introducing Rachel to Blaine. He never believes any of my stories about her."
"Says you're exaggerating?"
"Exactly."
"Oh, poor thing, he won't know what hit him," said Mercedes with a laugh.
"So, how about Thursday? 5:30?"
"It's a date, boo."
The timer in the microwave beeped. "Gotta go. Love you."
"Love you too, bye."
Kurt pocketed his cell, removed the mugs from the microwave and made his way upstairs, to Finn's room. He found his brother lying on his back on the unmade bed. "Hey."
Finn turned his head towards the doorway for a brief moment, then went back to staring at the ceiling. "Hi."
"I brought warm milk."
"Just put it on the nightstand," said Finn distractedly.
"You don't have a nightstand."
"Just... put it on the top of this box, okay?" He pointed at the box marked 'Finn's school books' right next to his bed.
Kurt did as he was told, and tried to find a place to sit. He couldn't find any. Even the recliner was under a heap of clothes now. So he remained standing, shifting from one foot to the other. "So..."
Finn didn't move or say a word.
"Are you worried about what's going to happen?" asked Kurt. "New Directions and the Titans in one tiny room for a whole week? That can't be good."
Finn propped up on his elbows, scowling at Kurt. "How the hell do you know about that?"
"Mercedes."
"Man, you can't drop a pencil without her telling everyone about it before the day ends!"
"It's Mercedes," said Kurt with a shrug. "What are you going to do?"
"There's nothing to do," said Finn, falling back on the bed. "It's not a problem. They'll be gone after the game, and that's it."
"Yeah, but..."
"I'm not even thinking about it."
"Oh?" Kurt was taken aback for a moment, then an expression of understanding took his face. "Oh."
Finn frowned. "What do you mean, 'oh'?"
"So... you're upset about Rachel. And Puck. And Lady Antebellum."
Finn rolled his eyes. "Right now, I'm getting really upset about Mercedes."
"You know... it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Rachel is a performer. If she sings a love song, she'll make it look like the one she's singing to is her one true love to the end of eternity and then some. But it's just acting."
"I know that," said Finn curtly.
"In fact, knowing Rachel, chances are it was all an act. Did you notice if she kept glancing at you from time to time? Trying to gauge your reaction?"
"Kurt, I really don't want to talk about Rachel, okay?"
"Right," Kurt whispered. He wrapped his fingers around his mug, bringing it close to his chest as he looked nervously around the room. "Have you decided if you're going to keep your drums here? Or down in the room behind the garage along with my piano? I think we could turn it into a fabulous music room..."
"I haven't decided," Finn grunted.
Kurt bit down his lower lip and turned his gaze back to his brother. Finn's feet pressed against the footboard, which creaked a little ominously. "You know, we could get you a bigger bed."
"I like my bed."
"You barely fit in it."
"I like my bed."
"I'm not talking about changing your... style, or anything. I'll let you borrow my IKEA catalog, you pick what you want, and I won't say a word about it. Just find something big enough..."
"I. Like. My. Bed."
Kurt sighed and turned to leave. "Your milk is going to get cold."
Finn rolled over, away from the door, away from the cooling mug.
3.
"I don't think slashing their tires is gonna help, Puck."
"It'd make me feel better. It'd probably be good for your stepfather too, they'd probably go to his shop to get new ones."
"Yeah, I don't think Burt would see things that way."
"Dude, I'm running out of ideas here. You've already shot down all my frontal attack plans, all my ambush schemes, and you didn't like any of my stealth plots either."
Finn paced anxiously in his bedroom, pressing his cell against his ear. "That's because you keep coming up with ideas to screw them over. We need plans to get them on our side."
"Hey, that's how I roll! I want people to do something, they do it. If they don't, Puckasaurus makes them do it."
"Well, that strategy isn't going so great right now, is it? The team is already at war. We need to get out of it."
"So you want peace conference ideas? Because those are so not my thing. I wouldn't know where to start."
"Well, I think most peace conferences are about reaching a... a compromise. Each side sees what the other want, then each side gives in a little."
"We want them to become more like us."
"And they want us to become like them."
"So... what? They sing a few songs and we go back to slushing the dweebs?"
"No! No frigging way! Haven't you learned anything?!"
"Relax, man, I'm kidding."
"Mr. Schue said we needed to show them that being in glee can be cool," Finn remembered.
"Schue is delusional."
"No, think about it. We used to think glee was a waste of time, but not anymore. So maybe the key is thinking about what brought us to glee club. You know, us other jocks-slash-glee clubbers. Me, you, Mike, Sam. And Matt."
"Okay, what made you join? Because I never really bought that story about Mr. Schue giving you extra credit in Spanish. I mean, he was desperate for more guys to join, and he never offered that to anyone else. And I could have used some extra credit, that's for sure."
"He's..." Finn glanced at the closed door, then hissed into the phone. "He found pot in my locker."
"Whoa! Finn, I'm impressed! Never thought you had it in you."
"It wasn't mine!"
"Of course it wasn't." Puck's tone was amused.
"No, I mean it, I don't know how it got there, someone must have put it there."
"Yeah, sure, because that happens aaaaaaall the time."
"Puck, I'm telling you, if you tell my mom about this, I'm kicking your ass."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Wait. Mr. Schue found pot in your locker... and he didn't call your mom? Seriously?"
"Yeah, I begged him not to, and he agreed. He said I could do six weeks of detention and have it on my permanent record, or do glee. So of course I chose glee."
This time the pause was even longer.
"Puck? You still there?"
"Yeah, just... I don't know. I just had this crazy idea... and if we were talking about Coach Sylvester, I'd be thinking that you're serious and the pot really did just appear in your locker... But Mr. Goody Two-Schues?"
"I am serious! It. Wasn't. Mine!"
"Okay, okay, never mind. Is that still why you're in glee? Is Mr. Schue still holding that over your head?"
"No. No, no. Actually... he's never mentioned that incident ever again."
"Right..." Puck's tone was very suspicious.
"I stuck with glee because I realized I was good at it. And it feels good to be good at something."
"Yeah, well, I don't know if that argument is going to work with those guys. First, we don't know if any of them have a single musical bone in their bodies. Second, Kurt was a damn good kicker, and that wasn't enough to convince him to stay, or even learn the rules of the game."
"He might have stayed," said Finn, almost to himself. "If the rest of the team had made him feel more welcome."
"What's your point? You throw them the welcome mat, make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, they'll stop being assholes and we'll sing What A Wonderful World?"
"No, that's not... Okay, forget that. Why did you join glee?"
"You know why," said Puck dryly.
Finn sighed. "Quinn."
"Of course, I told the team it was because of the Single Ladies play that got us that victory. I said I was there to learn more tactics. But then that trick never worked again, we lost every single game that season, and a month later Karofsky was slushing me."
"What about Matt and Mike?"
"They liked to dance. And they were the only ones that actually learned the whole Single Ladies choreography. Sam?"
"I told him glee club would make him popular."
"So you lied to the newbie."
"I didn't lie! Well, not really..."
"Hey, I'm not judging you. We needed someone to replace Matt and that did the trick, I don't care about moral implications or whatever. And by now he must've figured out that being in glee only means being popular in Loserville, and still he hasn't left, so..."
"Yeah, why hasn't he left?"
"Quinn?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "Right."
Puck snorted. "You know, I don't think this is helping."
"Yeah. If only Karofsky would fall in love with someone in glee..."
"Wha-what did you say?!"
Finn blinked and turned towards the door, where he found Kurt gaping at him in shock. The milk in the mugs he was holding swirled dangerously with the shaking of his hands. "Kurt! Can't you knock?!"
"My hands are busy and your door was ajar. What's this story about Karofsky?"
"Nothing! Nothing, okay? Puck was just making a joke about him and I went with it."
Kurt frowned. "Puck? Puck's on the phone?"
"Yeah, why? You have a problem with that?"
"I thought you guys weren't talking."
"Well, we made up. He apologized, and now we're cool."
"Oh."
"Hey, Finn! What's going on?" called the voice on the phone.
"Just a sec, Puck," Finn said into the phone. "Kurt, would you mind?" he asked impatiently. "This is a private call."
Kurt held one of the mugs up. "I just came to..."
Finn crossed the room in three steps and took the mug from him. "Thanks. Call me for dinner, okay?"
Kurt stepped back into the corridor, just in time not to be hit by the closing door. He stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do, until he finally took his own cell phone from his pocket, hitting the speed-dial as he made his way to his room.
"Hey, Kurt, I was just thinking of you."
"You... you were?" said Kurt, a little breathless.
"I am looking at this gorgeous gray and scarlet pashmina scarf, and I just can't decide if I should get it for me or for you."
"Oh! Oh, well." Kurt sat at his vanity, putting his mug down a little clumsily. "Why get it for me, Blaine? I mean, it's not my birthday or anything."
"No, but it's really beautiful and I know how you love scarves."
"That I do," Kurt admitted.
"On the other hand, it's scarlet and gray. Buckeyes' colors."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "So how could you possibly not have it?"
"I see you understand my dilemma. And I suppose getting one for each of us is out of the question."
"Absolutely! Coordinate outfits, never match them. That's a cardinal rule."
"So how about this? I get it for you, and you promise to let me borrow it on game days."
Kurt smiled. "I guess I could live with that. Where are you and my new beautiful scarf?"
"Well, your new beautiful scarf is actually in the window of Wanda's Weaving World, right across the hallway. I, on the other hand, am at the Gap."
"Again?!"
"Well, yeah, I decided I needed a new pair of jeans."
Kurt sipped his milk. "I seriously don't understand your fascination with the Gap."
"Hey, if Michelle Obama can wear a Gap tee shirt/cardigan combo to meet Nancy Reagan... So what's up? You're not worried about tomorrow, are you?"
"No, that's not why I... Wait, why, you think I should be?"
"Relax, Kurt," Blaine laughed. "It'll work, you'll see."
"Are you sure? Because the Warblers don't strike me as being very welcoming to change."
"If the Warblers were that immutable, we'd still be singing nineteenth century ballads, and you know that's not the case. It's all in the way you introduce your ideas to the group. Of course, convincing them to do Destiny's Child will be a lot easier than persuading them to... bust a move."
"Even after Sectionals and seeing what the New Directions can do?"
"Well, that's your way in right there. Use logical arguments, give them facts about our competitors' dancing skills, and be patient. Let them realize on their own that you have a point, don't badger them into it, but also don't lose spirit when you hear the first denials. Take it slow, respect all the council's rules, and by no means single out anyone's bad dancing, because that's the surest and quickest way to get the entire group to close their minds to whatever else you say."
Kurt sighed. "Maybe you should be the one to present the proposal to the council."
"Me? Why?"
"Because they like you. They'll be more open to it if it comes from you."
"Don't you want credit for the brilliant suggestion that might give us Regionals?"
Kurt frowned. "I... No. I don't care about that right now. I just want us to have a shot at going to New York."
"Well, then I think you're in the right frame of mind to talk to the council. But don't worry, okay? I will be there to back you up."
"Thanks..."
"But you were saying this was not why you called?"
"No, it wasn't. I..." Kurt gazed sadly into the mirror. "I think I figured out why Finn's been weird with me."
"Why?"
"He and Puck made peace."
"What does that have to do with you? I thought you said their fight was over Rachel?"
"Yeah, but now that he has his best friend back, he doesn't need a... a fake brother to talk to."
"You're not serious, are you?"
"Well, think about it! They've known each other for ages, and they... speak the same grammatically challenged language. Puck probably gets Finn in a way that I just don't."
"Kurt, I don't really know either of them, but I seriously doubt that's the case."
"He's just kicked me out of his room because he was on the phone with Puck!"
"There're probably subjects Finn feels more comfortable discussing with him..."
"Exactly!"
"...as I'm sure there're subjects he discusses with you that he'd never broach with Puck. You and Puck are different people. You mean different things for Finn. One relationship doesn't replace the other."
"What can't he talk to me about?" asked Kurt disappointedly. "He'd even talk to me about his feelings for Rachel before, and I can't imagine a more painful topic of conversation for either of us..."
"When you were at Finn's room... Did you happen to... inadvertently, of course... overhear any part of their conversation?"
"They were talking about Karofsky."
"Well, that explains it, doesn't it?"
"Explains what?"
"Finn probably doesn't want to upset you with a topic that he has to know would upset you."
"You really think so?"
"Sure!"
"But why would Finn want to discuss Karofsky's love life with Puck?"
Suddenly, Kurt heard a third voice cut in. "Blaine, what about this sweater? I think orange is totally your color."
"Oh, wow... Just give me a sec... Listen, Kurt, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?"
"Wait, Blaine!" But he could already hear the beep of the ended call.
He sighed. "Orange is so not your color," he murmured to the empty room.
4.
"So, you decided to keep your drums in here."
Finn didn't reply. Kurt could barely see him crouched behind the boxes piled in the middle of the room, attaching the pedal to the bass drum.
"Warm milk?" asked Kurt, offering a mug.
"Just..." Finn made a vague gesture towards the boxes.
Kurt placed the mug on the one that looked the sturdiest, and sat daintily on the corner of Finn's bed, drinking from his own mug. "I had a really great day today."
"Hmm?"
"I suggested a new song to the Warblers' council, and they accepted it!"
"Hmm."
"And it's a really big deal. The Warblers are not like the New Directions. You don't just go in there and say, 'Let's sing this!' There's a whole protocol, and you need the council's approval, and the support of the majority of the group. It's a very long process, infuriating at times... but... it has a certain charm to it. Blaine says it's the beauty of the ritual. I think it's the way those guys are, actually. They have class and poise, in a way I never saw out of books or movies."
Finn grunted something under his breath as he finished setting the first tom on the top of the bass drum, and picked up the second one from the floor.
"It's not easy to persuade them to try something new. And they can be a little snobbish. Some of them, anyway. Things have been done in a certain way for a hundred years, so that way must surely be the best way, because if there were a better way, another Warbler from days past would have suggested it already." Kurt giggled. "So my task was to convince them that I am the Warbler from days present that is only there to improve our already august traditions. It took some effort and a lot of gavel-banging from Wes, but it worked."
With both toms mounted on the Y-shaped arm, Finn lowered the whole assembly so the toms were as close as possible to the bass drum without actually touching it, and tightened the arm in place.
"It's a sharp contrast with the New Directions, really," Kurt admitted. "My first week with them, just before Sectionals... Severe cultural shock. I seriously questioned whether I'd learn to adapt. And I'm not saying it's a perfect fit yet. Far from it. But I guess I'm finally seeing how this may work. And that's a good thing, right?"
Moving to the floor tom, Finn inserted each of its three legs in the proper side brackets, then adjusted their height so the instrument stood at a slight angle.
"When you think about it, getting the council to approve my proposal today was really hard... but it was nothing compared to the Britney Spears fiasco last September. Day after day, Mr. Schuester wouldn't even hear about it, and even sent me to..." Kurt drew air quotes. "...'discuss my attitude problem with Principal Figgins'. I know he changed his mind later... and then he changed his mind back again... but somehow I don't think that had anything to do with anything I said. At least I could tell the Warblers were listening to what I was saying. Even when they disagreed, they didn't simply... tune me out, you know?"
Finn raised the base for the snare and spread out its legs.
"It's a nice feeling," Kurt murmured. "Having someone... listen."
The snare basket was beginning to rust, and it took Finn some effort to open it until it was totally flat.
"Blaine was wonderful," said Kurt dreamily. "Just when I was about to give up, he managed to calm everybody down and give me another shot to defend my request. He intervened when I needed him to, but he didn't take over, you know? He let me be the one to do it."
Placing the snare on the basket, Finn twisted the knob underneath until it was firm around the drum.
"I guess he understood how important this was for me. He's good at that. At understanding things. Understanding me."
Finn picked up one of the cymbal stands and opened its tripod base.
Kurt smiled naughtily. "I think David is actually looking forward to working on the new choreography. Remember that whole stick-your-head-in-the-freezing-water-and-run-around-like-a-maniac thing I told you about after the tie at Secionals?"
On the tripod, Finn set the boom arm that would stretch over the drums to put the cymbal in his reach.
"Well," Kurt went on, "I did notice David doing some crazy acrobatics in his attempts to get warm. I don't know, I think that boy actually has some pretty good moves in him!"
First cymbal stand done, another to go.
"Who knows? Maybe the Warblers have their own Mike Chang."
"What song is it?"
Kurt jumped, as if he had forgotten Finn was still there. "Well, I can't tell you that. There's a good chance we'll perform it at Regionals, so..."
"Huh." Finn's attention went back to his drum set, as he started putting together the hi-hat base.
"I heard the New Directions will be doing a mash-up of Thriller and Heads Will Roll?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "Mercedes?"
"Tina, actually. She sounded really excited about playing a zombie."
"Huh."
"Did you guys clear that up with Figgins? I mean, the man believes vampires are real. You might want to check his stance on other undead creatures, just to be safe." Kurt let out a strained giggle, which died quickly as Finn showed no reaction. The taller boy just checked the clutches on both sides of the hi-hat top cymbal, and put the cymbal above its counterpart on the proper stand.
"Sucks I can't be there. I could totally pull off Vincent Price's monologue." Kurt glanced at Finn, as if expecting the quarterback to contradict him. "I mean, if I can do Riff Raff, I can do Vincent Price."
Finn stepped lightly on the hi-hat pedal and tightened the clutch on the top, setting the initial distance between the two cymbals.
"It won't be easy, will it? I mean, playing the first half, then performing, then playing the second half... Blaine was very, very impressed when I told him."
"Why are you talking to Blaine about any of that? It's none of his business!"
"He loves football! He's coming to watch the game on Saturday and cheer for you."
"It's not his school."
"Well, it's not mine either!" Kurt snapped. "So maybe I shouldn't bother to go either."
"Don't be stupid," said Finn flatly. "You're my brother."
Kurt backpedaled, too many emotions crossing his face at once. "Well. Blaine is my plus-one."
"Fine, whatever." Finn attached the ride cymbal to its base, and then the crash cymbal. Next he moved the boom stands closer to the rest of the set, adjusting the position of the arms to his taste.
"What about the club's... new members?" asked Kurt. "How are they... integrating themselves into the group?"
"We're... working things out."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Finn opened the base of the drum throne and adjusted its height before setting the seat cushion on it.
Kurt cocked his head to one side. "That's good to know, I guess."
Finn placed the throne behind the drum set and started looking around for the sticks.
"You know, Dad asked me to find him a recliner just like yours for the living room. I guess he got used to watching TV on it."
"Hmmm."
"You don't mind, do you?"
"Why would I mind?"
"I don't know, I just... wanted to be sure... you're okay with it. I mean... I don't want you to feel like the decoration of the house is... trampling on your feelings in any way."
"As long as my room is my room, I don't care about the rest."
"Right," Kurt murmured.
Finn found the sticks among his bed sheets, and made his way over the boxes to get back to his drum set. He started playing even before sitting down on the throne.
"You might want to tune your drums," Kurt yelled over the noise.
There was no indication that Finn heard him, as he kept on playing loud and moodily. Kurt decided that was his cue to leave.
5.
"The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty thousand years,
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive..."
"So you're the one doing Vincent Price's monologue."
Finn, sitting cross-legged on his bed, was startled by the abrupt interruption. "Uh... you mean, the rap part?"
Kurt entered Finn's room with a determined look in his face, and practically shoved one of the mugs he was carrying in Finn's hand. "Try to add some guttural raspiness to your voice." He cleaned his throat and recited with an eerie, low tone. "Darkness falls across the land..."
Finn smiled, impressed. "Dude, that's creepy! You sound like a totally different person! But I'm still trying to memorize the words," he said, indicating the lyrics paper in his hand.
"Well, it's time for a break," said Kurt, unceremoniously taking the paper from Finn's hands. "You and I are going to talk."
"Uh... About what?"
Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, away from Finn but staring straight into his eyes. "You're going to tell me about Karofsky."
Finn gasped. "What?"
"You heard me. Dave Karofsky. What's going on with him?"
"Nothing!"
"Oh, please!" Kurt exclaimed. "He's in glee club, against his will. With all his Neanderthals buddies. Nothing? That's like saying that Greeks and Persians met at the pass of Thermopylae and simply had a nice cup of tea and scones. Now out with it. What's going on in there?"
Finn opened his mouth and did a fish impression for a few moments. He took a sip of his milk, then another, then a third one, before mumbling, "This is pretty good."
"I'll send your compliments to the cow. Karofsky?"
"I didn't think you'd be interested in him."
"I'm not interested in him!" Kurt shouted. "Who says I'm interested in him?"
"You're the one asking about him! I thought, after all that happened, that he'd be a major sore subject for you."
Kurt took a drink of his milk, taking the time to regain his composure. "He is a very sore subject. But that's all he is. I don't want him to be a ghost haunting me wherever I go. I'm out from his reach now."
"Still... why talk about him?"
"Acne is a sore subject as well, but I'll discuss it when necessary. Karofsky is on your team. Actually, now he's on both your teams, the Titans and the New Directions. They're both important to you. So..."
Finn drank more milk.
Kurt kept on staring unrelentingly at him, waiting.
"He's... he's terrible," said Finn eventually.
"Terrible how?"
"Just terrible. Most of the time he refuses to participate... and when he does, he can't sing, and he's like the worst dancer ever. Mr. Schue keeps yelling at him, but it makes no difference."
"Mr. Schue? Really? That's not really his style. He's more the encouraging type. I'd expect that from Beiste."
"Just to show you how bad he is! Mr. Schue is the one yelling, while Coach Beiste just gave up on him. He's that bad."
"Wow."
"And later we were learning how to put on some cool zombie makeup, and he wouldn't take part in that either. He said makeup is for..." Finn's eyes widened. "Uh..."
"Some slur for gay men?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. That."
Kurt's jaw was tense. "Well, that's hardly unexpected, is it? What else?"
"He... I suggested doing a different number, just the guys, also in zombie mode. Like, practice for the big number on Saturday. And he... he tried to get the other guys from the team to vote me down. But the New Directions outvoted them. So we'll be doing that tomorrow."
"But what happens if he keeps on being a nuisance?"
"It'll be okay."
"How?"
"We'll put him in the back, where no one will pay much attention to him. If Mr. Schue doesn't cut him from the number entirely. We'd probably be better off anyway."
"What about the football team?"
"What about it?"
"I thought the whole purpose of getting the Titans to join glee club was to pacify the team in time for the next game?"
"Ah. It is. And... Well. I think it's working."
"It is?" Kurt sounded incredulous.
"Yeah, they're all very motivated. It's the championship game, after all. And glee is helping. The power of the song and all that."
"Even Karofsky?"
"I... Yeah! I mean... no, he doesn't like glee, and he doesn't like me, and he doesn't like that I'm the quarterback... but it's the championship game! He'll come through. I have... I have no doubt about it."
Kurt arched an eyebrow at Finn's words, but didn't dispute them. "If you say so."
Finn went to drink more, but found his mug empty.
"Want some more?" asked Kurt wryly.
"No, I'm good."
"You can talk to me, Finn." Kurt's voice was softer now. "About playing zombies on stage, and about dealing with real life monsters. And stage makeup. You know you can always talk to me about makeup."
Finn gave him a half-smile. "I know, bro. Thanks."
Kurt grinned and stood up, taking Finn's mug. "I should go. The midnight hour is close at hand..."
Finn checked his watch. "It's not even eight yet."
"The monologue, Finn. The rap."
"Oh, right."
6.
"Dude, why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"
"Well... Actually, yes, there is."
Finn rubbed the back of his hand on his lips. "And now?"
"Now you at least got rid of the milk moustache, but that was not what I was looking at. Are you wearing makeup?"
"No. Well, not now, I'm not."
"Oh, right!" Kurt smiled. "You said the glee guys would do a zombie practice number today. How did that go?"
"It was pretty great, actually. Mr. Schue loved it."
"May I ask what song..."
"She's Not There by The Zombies."
"I see. Appropriate, I guess. Anyway, you still have some black shadow on the inner corner of your eyelids, and some reddish smears on your neck."
"Oh. I guess not everything got out in the shower."
Kurt looked pained. "Shower? And with regular soap, I bet!"
"What?"
"I'll be right back." Kurt set his half-full mug on one of the still closed boxes that still crowded Finn's room and left, returning about a minute later with a little round box and two small bottles, one white and the other blue. But as he stepped into the room, he froze, looking nervously between Finn and the objects in his hands.
Finally, he placed the box and the bottles on the bed, within Finn's reach, and stepped back. "Moist towelettes," he croaked. "And the white bottle is regular makeup remover, while the blue one is eye makeup remover. The skin around the eyes is much more sensitive, so you need a special cream for it. Don't rub, just..." He demonstrated with his fingers on his own face how to wipe it clean. "Gently."
Finn eyed the offered items with a haunted expression.
With a sigh, Kurt picked up his mug and turned to the door. "I have homework, so..."
"Kurt?"
"Yes?"
"What do you think of me as a leader?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You played for the Titans. You were a member of New Directions. And now you're in neither of those groups, so... you can be more objectionable."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I hope you mean 'objective'. And since we're living together, I'm not sure I have enough emotional distance to guarantee I can leave all subjectivity aside."
"Still," Finn shrugged timidly. "I'd like to know what you think."
Kurt hesitated for a moment, then sat on one of the arms of the old recliner. He took a sip of milk before answering the question. "Finn... I think you could be a great leader."
"Could be," Finn repeated. "Meaning I'm not."
"Meaning you have your moments. And then you have... your other moments."
"Kurt, come on, just give it to me straight, okay? You think I suck."
"No, I don't," Kurt retorted. "I didn't say that."
"Well, you're not saying much of anything here."
"Let me ask you this, Finn. What exactly do you want? Do you want to be a leader? Or do you want to be in the lead?"
Finn's brows knitted in confusion. "What's the difference?"
"If all you want is to be in the lead, you don't need to do that much. You only need to figure out where people want to go, and place yourself ahead of them. To everyone it'll seem like you're guiding them."
"But I'm not?"
"No, because you're just going where they want to go. You're letting their will lead you."
"And the leader...?"
"The leader guides people through paths they might not want to cross at all. Paths that seem too hard, or that seem to go nowhere. The leader convinces them that the goal and the journey are worth all the effort and hardship."
"So one is the real thing, and the other is just a pretender."
"In short, yes."
Finn scowled at his brother. "And you're asking me if I want to be the real thing or just a fake. Do you really need to ask?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I've seen you display moments of true leadership. And moments of true fakery."
"When?! When was I ever a fake?"
"Come on, you know very well when! All those times you took the lead of the bullies in their dumpster-tossing routine. They'd do it no matter if you were there or not. But you showed up and made a point of being the one to give the final word, so it seemed like they were following your orders." Kurt shrugged. "That was your modus operandi for the longest time. You wanted the jocks to like you, so you did what they wanted to do, and pretended you were their ring leader. Throwing eggs, slushies and pee balloons, whatever horrible idea they came up with, you took the lead. But if you'll notice, they didn't stop when you stopped, and when you told them to stop, they turned against you."
Finn looked away. "That's not what I was talking about."
"But it is central to the matter of your question. You're always talking about being popular and about being a leader, Finn. Well, those two things aren't necessarily the same."
Finn drank his milk, taking a moment to absorb that thought. Kurt waited in silence.
"So... when was I a real leader?" asked Finn eventually.
"When you convinced the Titans to go along with the Single Ladies play, even though some of them preferred being perpetual losers to dancing on the field. And all those times in glee when we felt like giving up and you talked us out of it, kept us focused on what really matters. You have that kind of unwise optimism that inspires people to be better, to do better, to dream higher."
"Thanks." Finn frowned. "I think. Did you say 'unwise'?"
Kurt smirked. "Well, if you're going to lead people across the Red Sea, being crazy stupid enough to believe it can be done probably helps."
"I'm not planning to do that."
"Some would say that leading a glee club to social glory at a school like McKinley would be just as miraculous. Finn... why are you asking me this?"
"Nothing. Just... something Sam said today."
"Ah."
Finn sent a suspicious look at Kurt. "Ah?"
"You and Sam have so much in common. Such as this vibrant need to be popular. I'm surprised you guys haven't butted heads before."
"Is he a leader or a faker?"
Kurt frowned, considering the question. "I don't know. I don't feel like I have enough data to judge."
"I thought... I thought you might like him better than me."
Kurt's eyes widened in shock. "Why?"
"He stood up for you. Got a black eye for you. I wasn't even there."
"Neither was I. So while I am thankful to Sam for what he did, I'm not sure defending me was his only motivation. Maybe Karofsky said something to upset him. Maybe he did it to impress Quinn. Maybe he wanted to impress the other jocks, prove he can be the alpha male." Kurt shrugged. "I just don't really know him that well."
"He wanted to do that duet with you," Finn admitted in a small voice. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he said he'd given you your word, and he wouldn't go back on that."
Kurt did not look pleased at the slight change of subject. "So?"
"So you have good reason to like him better than me."
"He's not a homophobe. And okay, when I was at McKinley, maybe I thought that alone made him wonderful. But really, not being a hateful ignorant is not an accomplishment, it's the minimum requirement for any decent human being."
Finn cringed, his hand reaching to grasp the box of moist towelettes. "I'm not a homophobe," he mumbled.
Kurt's lips were set in a thin line as he stared at the little box as well. "I told you, I can't be entirely objective about this." He got on his feet again. "And I really do have homework to deal with. So... good night."
He was at the door when Finn called after him. "Kurt?"
"What?" said Kurt impatiently.
"Blue bottle is for the eyes, white one is for the rest, is that it?"
Kurt let out a deep breath, and as he gazed at Finn again, he seemed a little calmer. "Yes. Remember, don't rub, okay?"
Finn nodded. "Thanks, bro."
"You're welcome."
7.
"Oh, hey, you finally opened another box. At that pace, you might actually manage to unpack all your stuff by next Christmas, and maybe, just maybe, have your room fully decorated before you move away for college."
"It's my room," Finn grumbled. "Maybe I want to keep it like this."
"I might respect it more if I thought this was a deliberate attempt at minimalism. But I don't know, something tells me it has more to do with you being lazy and easily distracted."
"Dude! You're here just to insult me?"
"No, I came to see how you're doing. You were very quiet at dinner."
"I'm okay," Finn muttered, unpacking an old football trophy.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," said Kurt with a careless shrug.
"Hey, is that milk?" asked Finn, nodding at the mug Kurt was drinking from.
"Oh yes, warm and delicious."
"And where's my mug?"
"Still in the kitchen, I'd imagine."
"You didn't bring me milk? You always bring me milk!"
"I decided that if I'm going to keep talking to myself, I should be drinking by myself as well."
Finn looked perplexed. "What do you mean, talking to yourself? You're talking to me."
"And you respond by either giving me the silent treatment or telling me a bunch of lies. So maybe it's even worse than talking to myself, because I at least do the courtesy of trying to be honest to myself as much as possible."
Finn put the trophy down on the floor beside him. "Mercedes again?"
"And Rachel. Blaine and I had coffee with them at the Lima Bean this afternoon, and they were full of interesting stories."
"Great," said Finn bitterly. "I should've imagined."
"Yes, you should! And maybe you should have also remembered that I said I'd be there on the stands to watch the game. You thought I wasn't going to notice at some point that there was nothing to be watched? That I wouldn't wonder why none of the non-glee Titans showed up to play?"
"I thought I could fix all this in time for the game!" Finn huffed.
"So Rachel is right? Is this all about you being too proud to complain?"
"Is that what she said?"
"Yes. Accompanied by the obligatory 'Oh, Finn would feel so much better if we were still dating' spiel. One can't have a conversation with Rachel nowadays without hearing it at least twice."
Finn ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in dismay. "Listen, Kurt..."
"No. Sorry. I won't."
"What?"
"You're too proud to talk, I'm too proud to listen. Good night."
"Kurt, come on!"
But the other boy had already left, closing the door behind him.
--
(Chapter 3 continues HERE)
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Finn + Kurt, canonical pairings (Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Finn/Quinn, Burt/Carole, brief Blaine/Rachel, etc.)
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters belong to Ryan Murphy Television and 20th Century Fox Television.
Spoilers: For this chapter, up until 2.11. Eventually, everything.
Thanks: To my beta, the lovely tekalynn. I don't know what I'd do without her.
Summary: At the end of each day, they go home and talk. Except for the days when they don't. My own spin on the "lady chats over warm milk".
A/N: A "week" in an episode of Glee rarely lasts 7 days. Observing changes of clothes and things that obviously couldn't have happened on the same day, I counted 9 school days between the two football games in The Sue Sylvester Shuffle, even though they're supposedly one week apart, according to the characters. So, yeah, I'm aware my dates make no sense. I did my best.
Previously:
Chapter 1 - Of Parties and Betrayals
Chapter 2 - Of Ornaments and Adjustments
At the End of Each Day
by Morgan D.
Chapter 3 - Of Décor and Miscommunication
1.
"Die! Die! You freaking creepy bastard! Just die already!"
"You know, your mom wanted to bet that the first thing you'd take out of the boxes after we moved here would be the X-Box. I'm so glad I didn't take the bet."
Finn glanced away from the screen for just a second. "Oh, hey, Burt. I didn't hear you arrive."
"Kid, I don't think you'd have heard a tank knocking down the walls! Bring down the volume, will ya?"
Finn paused the game to comply. "Sorry."
"Bad day?"
"Why do you ask?"
Burt indicated the screen with a nod of his head. "That was my bad day therapy too when I was about your age. Of course, for me it was Defender at the arcade. Much simpler. Still, the same idea. Put all the crap you're feeling inside into pulverizing aliens."
"Yeah, you get it," said Finn meekly. "Although these are brain-sucking plants."
Burt looked around at the room still crammed with boxes, and found a place to sit on the edge of Christopher Hudson's old recliner. "So. What happened? Titans lost the game?"
"Oh man..." Finn put the controllers down with a huff. "We were three points ahead with five seconds to go... We had it! But that maniac Karofsky just had to ruin it for all of us!"
Burt tensed up immediately. "What did he do?"
Finn shook his head. "I shouldn't have let him get to me."
"Finn? What. Did. He. Do?"
"He threatened to let the linebacker through to sack me. On purpose."
"Are you serious?! That kid is a psychopath!"
"Well, yeah... except that when the play started, he did try to block the linebacker. I mean, the guy came through after two seconds, so I'm not sure how much effort Karofsky put into blocking him... but then it'd have been too late if only I had done my job right. I let myself get distracted by freaking Karofsky and his stupid rants about glee club... and I dropped the ball. They won, 20-17."
"Damn," grumbled Burt in sympathy. "You guys still made it to the championship, though, right?"
"Yeah. But the team is divided between glee clubbers and non-glee clubbers, and it's getting to the point where we don't work as a team anywhere. And I'm the captain, I should know how to fix this, but I don't."
"Talked to your coach about it?"
"Oh, she saw firsthand how bad things are," said Finn wryly. "Karofsky flat out told her he would not block for me."
Burt was astonished. "And her?"
"She yelled at him, yelled at all of us, ordered us to get out of her sight. Don't know what she's gonna do, though."
"And Karofsky... the reason why he's badgering you... is it just the glee club?"
Finn looked away, visibly uncomfortable.
"Finn, you need to tell me those things. Or your mom. Kurt has this crazy instinct to protect me when it's supposed to be the other way around, and you just saw how that went down."
"He... he's acting like he's won," Finn said tiredly. "He's proud that Kurt's left. Keeps going on and on about how if he keeps giving me a hard time I'll run away the same way Kurt did."
Burt eyed Finn with a measuring look. "Is that what you think?"
Finn blinked. "What?"
"That Kurt ran away? You think he should've stayed and... and fought? Resisted? Manned up?"
"No," said Finn a little too quickly. Then, after a sigh, "No. I was pissed at first, when I found out about the transfer... but not because... It's just... It shouldn't be like this!" Finn shouted in frustration. "I get why he had to leave. School sucks enough as it is, he shouldn't have to risk his life just to be there, that's insane! It doesn't make him a coward." He snorted. "Whatever anyone says about Kurt, no one can call him a coward."
"All right," Burt nodded. "I needed to be sure you understood that."
"I do. It's like with the plants," said Finn, pointing at the frozen image on the screen. "When they're brown or green, you shoot them up with the Omicron Plasma Rifle, or cut them down with the Laser Machete, and you just keep going. But when they turn red, that means their roots found lava under the ground, and if you hit them they'll bleed blistering sap all over you, and wherever it touches you, your flesh will melt off. So you need to retreat and be smart and find another way through." He shrugged. "I mean, there's bravery, and then there's being a total moron."
Burt smiled. "I couldn't have put it better myself." He patted Finn on the shoulder and got on his feet. "I think I hear Kurt's car."
"Burt?"'
"Hmm?"
"Please don't tell him about Karofsky. It's not his problem anymore. He shouldn't have to think about him."
Burt considered the request for a minute. "I won't mention it to him... if you give me your word that you will tell me or your mom if Karofsky makes any new threats against you. Immediately."
"I promise."
Burt patted his shoulder again and left.
Finn resumed the game, but his concentration was lost, and his avatar suffered a rather gruesome demise ten minutes later. He was about to restart the level when Kurt showed up at the threshold, carrying two steaming mugs.
"May I interest you in some warm milk?"
Finn grinned and reached out to take one of the mugs. "Thanks, dude."
Kurt looked around the room in dismay. "Honestly, Finn, I don't know how you manage. It's been six days already, and you haven't even unpacked your clothes!"
"Don't have anywhere to put them," said Finn, taking a first cautious sip of the milk to check its temperature.
"Because you haven't assembled your wardrobe yet! Would you like me to help? We'd be done in a few minutes..."
"No!"
Kurt frowned. "I'm not talking about redecorating, Finn. It's your own old wardrobe, I'm just offering some help putting it back together."
"I know," said Finn, a little calmer. "I just... It's my bedroom, okay? I want to do this on my own."
Kurt's posture stiffened, but he didn't argue. "So... anything interesting happen today?"
Finn restarted the game. "Not really."
"I see."
"The Titans lost."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
Finn kept on massacring virtual monster vegetables. Not finding anything else to say, Kurt went to his own room to check on Pavarotti.
2.
"Hi..."
"I just want you to know that all of us are mad as hell right now!"
"...Mercedes?"
"I mean it, Kurt, we're this close to going all Jason Voorhees and doing some serious cutting!"
"What did I do?!"
"Not you! Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste, of course!"
"Mercedes, what are you talking about?"
A pause. "Finn didn't tell you?"
"All Finn said when I got home today was 'Grumble-grumble-grumble-grumble,' which is Finn for 'Hello, how are you?' when he's in a pissy mood. What happened?"
"Well, guess who we have now as new members of New Directions?"
"New members, plural?" Kurt put the cell on speakerphone and placed it on the kitchen island as he picked the milk carton from the fridge. "I thought Puck had to whore himself out just to get Zizes for Sectionals."
"Oh, they didn't want to join. And we don't want them in either. It's all Schue and Beiste's doing."
"What is? Mercedes..."
"Karofsky."
The carton slipped from Kurt's fingers, fortunately landing upside up on the counter. "Wha-what?!"
"Azimio. Briggs. Strando. McCulloch. Rashad. All the meatheads from the football team."
"Rashad is a decent guy," Kurt protested, looking for clean mugs in one of the cupboards. "I wouldn't have gotten you a date with him if he was a real meathead."
"Fine!" Mercedes' tone was dismissive. "At least he seemed to be digging Puck and Rachel's Lady Antebellum number... until Karofsky caught him swaying to the beat and made him stop. You know what, I'm glad I didn't go out with him after all. Any guy who lets creepy-ass Karofsky order him around is no man for Mercedes Jones!"
"Are you really serious? The whole football team is in glee club?"
"That's what I'm telling you, boy! Can you believe it?"
Kurt started opening every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, unable to find any mugs. "Wow. Just... wow. I'm sorry to say this, honey, but I think the Warblers' chances at Regionals have just improved dramatically."
"Oh, no, at least it's not that bad. They'll only stay for a week, thank God."
"Then what's the point?!" Kurt tried the dishwasher, didn't see the mugs he wanted, and banged the machine closed.
"I don't know, something about creating unity between the jocks in glee and the jocks not in glee. They have the big championship game next week... Finn told you that, right?"
"Yeah. Well, no. Blaine did. I mean, he's more interested in college football, but when I told him my stepbrother was the quarterback, he... well... he likes to know what's going on in my life, I guess." Kurt smiled to himself, giving the search a rest. That was when he spotted the two mugs on the kitchen island, right next to the phone.
"Well, apparently there's been tons of fighting inside the team, and Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue think spending a week with us will make things better."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Because of the power of the music in soothing wild beasts?"
"Because maybe we all can find some common ground or, I don't know, become friends by making music together?"
"You don't sound very optimistic."
Mercedes snorted. "Should I be?"
"You'll have to admit that some rather unlikely friendships were born in New Directions."
"Well, first, that did not happen overnight or in a week. It took us all a long time to get to know each other and even more to admit that we're really friends. And second, I do not want to be friends with Dave Karofsky! Not in a million years!"
Kurt stared thoughtfully at the two mugs, as if he couldn't remember what they were for. "I... cannot imagine Karofsky in glee. It's like... picturing a life-sized trumpeting mammoth in the ball scene of Sense and Sensibility."
"Oh, Kurt, I never thought I'd ever say that, but for the first time, and for this week only, I am glad you transferred. I really can't understand how Mr. Schue thought we'd be okay with any of this."
Kurt shook himself out of his stupor, and poured the milk into the mugs. "What's the assignment of the week? Songs about football? Blaine probably knows some, I could ask him for suggestions. Unless it's for the Regionals program, of course."
"Mr. Schue didn't have the chance to give us an assignment. The whole choir room broke into a fight as soon as Puck and Rachel finished singing. And I'll tell you this: that puny McCulloch will be coming to school tomorrow with the mark of the sole of my sneakers on his face!"
"Well, I'd say that'd be a major improvement," said Kurt with a smirk. He put the milk carton back in the fridge, placed the mugs in the microwave, set the time and turned it on.
"Damn." Mercedes sounded sad now, all anger gone from her voice. "I really miss you, Kurt."
Kurt picked the phone up, silencing the speaker, and murmured into it. "I miss you too. You have no idea."
"Let's do something together. When can we meet?"
"Oh, we should. And I want to. But with the move and all, I'm so behind with my homework, it's not even funny. And parts of the house still look like a disaster zone."
"It doesn't have to be a big thing. Let's just have coffee or something."
"Well, Blaine and I go to the Lima Bean every day after rehearsal."
"Blaine, huh?"
"Come on, Mercedes, give him a chance."
"Say what, you bring Blaine, and I'll bring Rachel. She keeps him busy yakking about her favorite subject..."
"Herself."
"...while you and I catch up."
Kurt giggled. "Perfect. I'm looking forward to properly introducing Rachel to Blaine. He never believes any of my stories about her."
"Says you're exaggerating?"
"Exactly."
"Oh, poor thing, he won't know what hit him," said Mercedes with a laugh.
"So, how about Thursday? 5:30?"
"It's a date, boo."
The timer in the microwave beeped. "Gotta go. Love you."
"Love you too, bye."
Kurt pocketed his cell, removed the mugs from the microwave and made his way upstairs, to Finn's room. He found his brother lying on his back on the unmade bed. "Hey."
Finn turned his head towards the doorway for a brief moment, then went back to staring at the ceiling. "Hi."
"I brought warm milk."
"Just put it on the nightstand," said Finn distractedly.
"You don't have a nightstand."
"Just... put it on the top of this box, okay?" He pointed at the box marked 'Finn's school books' right next to his bed.
Kurt did as he was told, and tried to find a place to sit. He couldn't find any. Even the recliner was under a heap of clothes now. So he remained standing, shifting from one foot to the other. "So..."
Finn didn't move or say a word.
"Are you worried about what's going to happen?" asked Kurt. "New Directions and the Titans in one tiny room for a whole week? That can't be good."
Finn propped up on his elbows, scowling at Kurt. "How the hell do you know about that?"
"Mercedes."
"Man, you can't drop a pencil without her telling everyone about it before the day ends!"
"It's Mercedes," said Kurt with a shrug. "What are you going to do?"
"There's nothing to do," said Finn, falling back on the bed. "It's not a problem. They'll be gone after the game, and that's it."
"Yeah, but..."
"I'm not even thinking about it."
"Oh?" Kurt was taken aback for a moment, then an expression of understanding took his face. "Oh."
Finn frowned. "What do you mean, 'oh'?"
"So... you're upset about Rachel. And Puck. And Lady Antebellum."
Finn rolled his eyes. "Right now, I'm getting really upset about Mercedes."
"You know... it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Rachel is a performer. If she sings a love song, she'll make it look like the one she's singing to is her one true love to the end of eternity and then some. But it's just acting."
"I know that," said Finn curtly.
"In fact, knowing Rachel, chances are it was all an act. Did you notice if she kept glancing at you from time to time? Trying to gauge your reaction?"
"Kurt, I really don't want to talk about Rachel, okay?"
"Right," Kurt whispered. He wrapped his fingers around his mug, bringing it close to his chest as he looked nervously around the room. "Have you decided if you're going to keep your drums here? Or down in the room behind the garage along with my piano? I think we could turn it into a fabulous music room..."
"I haven't decided," Finn grunted.
Kurt bit down his lower lip and turned his gaze back to his brother. Finn's feet pressed against the footboard, which creaked a little ominously. "You know, we could get you a bigger bed."
"I like my bed."
"You barely fit in it."
"I like my bed."
"I'm not talking about changing your... style, or anything. I'll let you borrow my IKEA catalog, you pick what you want, and I won't say a word about it. Just find something big enough..."
"I. Like. My. Bed."
Kurt sighed and turned to leave. "Your milk is going to get cold."
Finn rolled over, away from the door, away from the cooling mug.
3.
"I don't think slashing their tires is gonna help, Puck."
"It'd make me feel better. It'd probably be good for your stepfather too, they'd probably go to his shop to get new ones."
"Yeah, I don't think Burt would see things that way."
"Dude, I'm running out of ideas here. You've already shot down all my frontal attack plans, all my ambush schemes, and you didn't like any of my stealth plots either."
Finn paced anxiously in his bedroom, pressing his cell against his ear. "That's because you keep coming up with ideas to screw them over. We need plans to get them on our side."
"Hey, that's how I roll! I want people to do something, they do it. If they don't, Puckasaurus makes them do it."
"Well, that strategy isn't going so great right now, is it? The team is already at war. We need to get out of it."
"So you want peace conference ideas? Because those are so not my thing. I wouldn't know where to start."
"Well, I think most peace conferences are about reaching a... a compromise. Each side sees what the other want, then each side gives in a little."
"We want them to become more like us."
"And they want us to become like them."
"So... what? They sing a few songs and we go back to slushing the dweebs?"
"No! No frigging way! Haven't you learned anything?!"
"Relax, man, I'm kidding."
"Mr. Schue said we needed to show them that being in glee can be cool," Finn remembered.
"Schue is delusional."
"No, think about it. We used to think glee was a waste of time, but not anymore. So maybe the key is thinking about what brought us to glee club. You know, us other jocks-slash-glee clubbers. Me, you, Mike, Sam. And Matt."
"Okay, what made you join? Because I never really bought that story about Mr. Schue giving you extra credit in Spanish. I mean, he was desperate for more guys to join, and he never offered that to anyone else. And I could have used some extra credit, that's for sure."
"He's..." Finn glanced at the closed door, then hissed into the phone. "He found pot in my locker."
"Whoa! Finn, I'm impressed! Never thought you had it in you."
"It wasn't mine!"
"Of course it wasn't." Puck's tone was amused.
"No, I mean it, I don't know how it got there, someone must have put it there."
"Yeah, sure, because that happens aaaaaaall the time."
"Puck, I'm telling you, if you tell my mom about this, I'm kicking your ass."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Wait. Mr. Schue found pot in your locker... and he didn't call your mom? Seriously?"
"Yeah, I begged him not to, and he agreed. He said I could do six weeks of detention and have it on my permanent record, or do glee. So of course I chose glee."
This time the pause was even longer.
"Puck? You still there?"
"Yeah, just... I don't know. I just had this crazy idea... and if we were talking about Coach Sylvester, I'd be thinking that you're serious and the pot really did just appear in your locker... But Mr. Goody Two-Schues?"
"I am serious! It. Wasn't. Mine!"
"Okay, okay, never mind. Is that still why you're in glee? Is Mr. Schue still holding that over your head?"
"No. No, no. Actually... he's never mentioned that incident ever again."
"Right..." Puck's tone was very suspicious.
"I stuck with glee because I realized I was good at it. And it feels good to be good at something."
"Yeah, well, I don't know if that argument is going to work with those guys. First, we don't know if any of them have a single musical bone in their bodies. Second, Kurt was a damn good kicker, and that wasn't enough to convince him to stay, or even learn the rules of the game."
"He might have stayed," said Finn, almost to himself. "If the rest of the team had made him feel more welcome."
"What's your point? You throw them the welcome mat, make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, they'll stop being assholes and we'll sing What A Wonderful World?"
"No, that's not... Okay, forget that. Why did you join glee?"
"You know why," said Puck dryly.
Finn sighed. "Quinn."
"Of course, I told the team it was because of the Single Ladies play that got us that victory. I said I was there to learn more tactics. But then that trick never worked again, we lost every single game that season, and a month later Karofsky was slushing me."
"What about Matt and Mike?"
"They liked to dance. And they were the only ones that actually learned the whole Single Ladies choreography. Sam?"
"I told him glee club would make him popular."
"So you lied to the newbie."
"I didn't lie! Well, not really..."
"Hey, I'm not judging you. We needed someone to replace Matt and that did the trick, I don't care about moral implications or whatever. And by now he must've figured out that being in glee only means being popular in Loserville, and still he hasn't left, so..."
"Yeah, why hasn't he left?"
"Quinn?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "Right."
Puck snorted. "You know, I don't think this is helping."
"Yeah. If only Karofsky would fall in love with someone in glee..."
"Wha-what did you say?!"
Finn blinked and turned towards the door, where he found Kurt gaping at him in shock. The milk in the mugs he was holding swirled dangerously with the shaking of his hands. "Kurt! Can't you knock?!"
"My hands are busy and your door was ajar. What's this story about Karofsky?"
"Nothing! Nothing, okay? Puck was just making a joke about him and I went with it."
Kurt frowned. "Puck? Puck's on the phone?"
"Yeah, why? You have a problem with that?"
"I thought you guys weren't talking."
"Well, we made up. He apologized, and now we're cool."
"Oh."
"Hey, Finn! What's going on?" called the voice on the phone.
"Just a sec, Puck," Finn said into the phone. "Kurt, would you mind?" he asked impatiently. "This is a private call."
Kurt held one of the mugs up. "I just came to..."
Finn crossed the room in three steps and took the mug from him. "Thanks. Call me for dinner, okay?"
Kurt stepped back into the corridor, just in time not to be hit by the closing door. He stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do, until he finally took his own cell phone from his pocket, hitting the speed-dial as he made his way to his room.
"Hey, Kurt, I was just thinking of you."
"You... you were?" said Kurt, a little breathless.
"I am looking at this gorgeous gray and scarlet pashmina scarf, and I just can't decide if I should get it for me or for you."
"Oh! Oh, well." Kurt sat at his vanity, putting his mug down a little clumsily. "Why get it for me, Blaine? I mean, it's not my birthday or anything."
"No, but it's really beautiful and I know how you love scarves."
"That I do," Kurt admitted.
"On the other hand, it's scarlet and gray. Buckeyes' colors."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "So how could you possibly not have it?"
"I see you understand my dilemma. And I suppose getting one for each of us is out of the question."
"Absolutely! Coordinate outfits, never match them. That's a cardinal rule."
"So how about this? I get it for you, and you promise to let me borrow it on game days."
Kurt smiled. "I guess I could live with that. Where are you and my new beautiful scarf?"
"Well, your new beautiful scarf is actually in the window of Wanda's Weaving World, right across the hallway. I, on the other hand, am at the Gap."
"Again?!"
"Well, yeah, I decided I needed a new pair of jeans."
Kurt sipped his milk. "I seriously don't understand your fascination with the Gap."
"Hey, if Michelle Obama can wear a Gap tee shirt/cardigan combo to meet Nancy Reagan... So what's up? You're not worried about tomorrow, are you?"
"No, that's not why I... Wait, why, you think I should be?"
"Relax, Kurt," Blaine laughed. "It'll work, you'll see."
"Are you sure? Because the Warblers don't strike me as being very welcoming to change."
"If the Warblers were that immutable, we'd still be singing nineteenth century ballads, and you know that's not the case. It's all in the way you introduce your ideas to the group. Of course, convincing them to do Destiny's Child will be a lot easier than persuading them to... bust a move."
"Even after Sectionals and seeing what the New Directions can do?"
"Well, that's your way in right there. Use logical arguments, give them facts about our competitors' dancing skills, and be patient. Let them realize on their own that you have a point, don't badger them into it, but also don't lose spirit when you hear the first denials. Take it slow, respect all the council's rules, and by no means single out anyone's bad dancing, because that's the surest and quickest way to get the entire group to close their minds to whatever else you say."
Kurt sighed. "Maybe you should be the one to present the proposal to the council."
"Me? Why?"
"Because they like you. They'll be more open to it if it comes from you."
"Don't you want credit for the brilliant suggestion that might give us Regionals?"
Kurt frowned. "I... No. I don't care about that right now. I just want us to have a shot at going to New York."
"Well, then I think you're in the right frame of mind to talk to the council. But don't worry, okay? I will be there to back you up."
"Thanks..."
"But you were saying this was not why you called?"
"No, it wasn't. I..." Kurt gazed sadly into the mirror. "I think I figured out why Finn's been weird with me."
"Why?"
"He and Puck made peace."
"What does that have to do with you? I thought you said their fight was over Rachel?"
"Yeah, but now that he has his best friend back, he doesn't need a... a fake brother to talk to."
"You're not serious, are you?"
"Well, think about it! They've known each other for ages, and they... speak the same grammatically challenged language. Puck probably gets Finn in a way that I just don't."
"Kurt, I don't really know either of them, but I seriously doubt that's the case."
"He's just kicked me out of his room because he was on the phone with Puck!"
"There're probably subjects Finn feels more comfortable discussing with him..."
"Exactly!"
"...as I'm sure there're subjects he discusses with you that he'd never broach with Puck. You and Puck are different people. You mean different things for Finn. One relationship doesn't replace the other."
"What can't he talk to me about?" asked Kurt disappointedly. "He'd even talk to me about his feelings for Rachel before, and I can't imagine a more painful topic of conversation for either of us..."
"When you were at Finn's room... Did you happen to... inadvertently, of course... overhear any part of their conversation?"
"They were talking about Karofsky."
"Well, that explains it, doesn't it?"
"Explains what?"
"Finn probably doesn't want to upset you with a topic that he has to know would upset you."
"You really think so?"
"Sure!"
"But why would Finn want to discuss Karofsky's love life with Puck?"
Suddenly, Kurt heard a third voice cut in. "Blaine, what about this sweater? I think orange is totally your color."
"Oh, wow... Just give me a sec... Listen, Kurt, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?"
"Wait, Blaine!" But he could already hear the beep of the ended call.
He sighed. "Orange is so not your color," he murmured to the empty room.
4.
"So, you decided to keep your drums in here."
Finn didn't reply. Kurt could barely see him crouched behind the boxes piled in the middle of the room, attaching the pedal to the bass drum.
"Warm milk?" asked Kurt, offering a mug.
"Just..." Finn made a vague gesture towards the boxes.
Kurt placed the mug on the one that looked the sturdiest, and sat daintily on the corner of Finn's bed, drinking from his own mug. "I had a really great day today."
"Hmm?"
"I suggested a new song to the Warblers' council, and they accepted it!"
"Hmm."
"And it's a really big deal. The Warblers are not like the New Directions. You don't just go in there and say, 'Let's sing this!' There's a whole protocol, and you need the council's approval, and the support of the majority of the group. It's a very long process, infuriating at times... but... it has a certain charm to it. Blaine says it's the beauty of the ritual. I think it's the way those guys are, actually. They have class and poise, in a way I never saw out of books or movies."
Finn grunted something under his breath as he finished setting the first tom on the top of the bass drum, and picked up the second one from the floor.
"It's not easy to persuade them to try something new. And they can be a little snobbish. Some of them, anyway. Things have been done in a certain way for a hundred years, so that way must surely be the best way, because if there were a better way, another Warbler from days past would have suggested it already." Kurt giggled. "So my task was to convince them that I am the Warbler from days present that is only there to improve our already august traditions. It took some effort and a lot of gavel-banging from Wes, but it worked."
With both toms mounted on the Y-shaped arm, Finn lowered the whole assembly so the toms were as close as possible to the bass drum without actually touching it, and tightened the arm in place.
"It's a sharp contrast with the New Directions, really," Kurt admitted. "My first week with them, just before Sectionals... Severe cultural shock. I seriously questioned whether I'd learn to adapt. And I'm not saying it's a perfect fit yet. Far from it. But I guess I'm finally seeing how this may work. And that's a good thing, right?"
Moving to the floor tom, Finn inserted each of its three legs in the proper side brackets, then adjusted their height so the instrument stood at a slight angle.
"When you think about it, getting the council to approve my proposal today was really hard... but it was nothing compared to the Britney Spears fiasco last September. Day after day, Mr. Schuester wouldn't even hear about it, and even sent me to..." Kurt drew air quotes. "...'discuss my attitude problem with Principal Figgins'. I know he changed his mind later... and then he changed his mind back again... but somehow I don't think that had anything to do with anything I said. At least I could tell the Warblers were listening to what I was saying. Even when they disagreed, they didn't simply... tune me out, you know?"
Finn raised the base for the snare and spread out its legs.
"It's a nice feeling," Kurt murmured. "Having someone... listen."
The snare basket was beginning to rust, and it took Finn some effort to open it until it was totally flat.
"Blaine was wonderful," said Kurt dreamily. "Just when I was about to give up, he managed to calm everybody down and give me another shot to defend my request. He intervened when I needed him to, but he didn't take over, you know? He let me be the one to do it."
Placing the snare on the basket, Finn twisted the knob underneath until it was firm around the drum.
"I guess he understood how important this was for me. He's good at that. At understanding things. Understanding me."
Finn picked up one of the cymbal stands and opened its tripod base.
Kurt smiled naughtily. "I think David is actually looking forward to working on the new choreography. Remember that whole stick-your-head-in-the-freezing-water-and-run-around-like-a-maniac thing I told you about after the tie at Secionals?"
On the tripod, Finn set the boom arm that would stretch over the drums to put the cymbal in his reach.
"Well," Kurt went on, "I did notice David doing some crazy acrobatics in his attempts to get warm. I don't know, I think that boy actually has some pretty good moves in him!"
First cymbal stand done, another to go.
"Who knows? Maybe the Warblers have their own Mike Chang."
"What song is it?"
Kurt jumped, as if he had forgotten Finn was still there. "Well, I can't tell you that. There's a good chance we'll perform it at Regionals, so..."
"Huh." Finn's attention went back to his drum set, as he started putting together the hi-hat base.
"I heard the New Directions will be doing a mash-up of Thriller and Heads Will Roll?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "Mercedes?"
"Tina, actually. She sounded really excited about playing a zombie."
"Huh."
"Did you guys clear that up with Figgins? I mean, the man believes vampires are real. You might want to check his stance on other undead creatures, just to be safe." Kurt let out a strained giggle, which died quickly as Finn showed no reaction. The taller boy just checked the clutches on both sides of the hi-hat top cymbal, and put the cymbal above its counterpart on the proper stand.
"Sucks I can't be there. I could totally pull off Vincent Price's monologue." Kurt glanced at Finn, as if expecting the quarterback to contradict him. "I mean, if I can do Riff Raff, I can do Vincent Price."
Finn stepped lightly on the hi-hat pedal and tightened the clutch on the top, setting the initial distance between the two cymbals.
"It won't be easy, will it? I mean, playing the first half, then performing, then playing the second half... Blaine was very, very impressed when I told him."
"Why are you talking to Blaine about any of that? It's none of his business!"
"He loves football! He's coming to watch the game on Saturday and cheer for you."
"It's not his school."
"Well, it's not mine either!" Kurt snapped. "So maybe I shouldn't bother to go either."
"Don't be stupid," said Finn flatly. "You're my brother."
Kurt backpedaled, too many emotions crossing his face at once. "Well. Blaine is my plus-one."
"Fine, whatever." Finn attached the ride cymbal to its base, and then the crash cymbal. Next he moved the boom stands closer to the rest of the set, adjusting the position of the arms to his taste.
"What about the club's... new members?" asked Kurt. "How are they... integrating themselves into the group?"
"We're... working things out."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Finn opened the base of the drum throne and adjusted its height before setting the seat cushion on it.
Kurt cocked his head to one side. "That's good to know, I guess."
Finn placed the throne behind the drum set and started looking around for the sticks.
"You know, Dad asked me to find him a recliner just like yours for the living room. I guess he got used to watching TV on it."
"Hmmm."
"You don't mind, do you?"
"Why would I mind?"
"I don't know, I just... wanted to be sure... you're okay with it. I mean... I don't want you to feel like the decoration of the house is... trampling on your feelings in any way."
"As long as my room is my room, I don't care about the rest."
"Right," Kurt murmured.
Finn found the sticks among his bed sheets, and made his way over the boxes to get back to his drum set. He started playing even before sitting down on the throne.
"You might want to tune your drums," Kurt yelled over the noise.
There was no indication that Finn heard him, as he kept on playing loud and moodily. Kurt decided that was his cue to leave.
5.
"The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty thousand years,
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive..."
"So you're the one doing Vincent Price's monologue."
Finn, sitting cross-legged on his bed, was startled by the abrupt interruption. "Uh... you mean, the rap part?"
Kurt entered Finn's room with a determined look in his face, and practically shoved one of the mugs he was carrying in Finn's hand. "Try to add some guttural raspiness to your voice." He cleaned his throat and recited with an eerie, low tone. "Darkness falls across the land..."
Finn smiled, impressed. "Dude, that's creepy! You sound like a totally different person! But I'm still trying to memorize the words," he said, indicating the lyrics paper in his hand.
"Well, it's time for a break," said Kurt, unceremoniously taking the paper from Finn's hands. "You and I are going to talk."
"Uh... About what?"
Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, away from Finn but staring straight into his eyes. "You're going to tell me about Karofsky."
Finn gasped. "What?"
"You heard me. Dave Karofsky. What's going on with him?"
"Nothing!"
"Oh, please!" Kurt exclaimed. "He's in glee club, against his will. With all his Neanderthals buddies. Nothing? That's like saying that Greeks and Persians met at the pass of Thermopylae and simply had a nice cup of tea and scones. Now out with it. What's going on in there?"
Finn opened his mouth and did a fish impression for a few moments. He took a sip of his milk, then another, then a third one, before mumbling, "This is pretty good."
"I'll send your compliments to the cow. Karofsky?"
"I didn't think you'd be interested in him."
"I'm not interested in him!" Kurt shouted. "Who says I'm interested in him?"
"You're the one asking about him! I thought, after all that happened, that he'd be a major sore subject for you."
Kurt took a drink of his milk, taking the time to regain his composure. "He is a very sore subject. But that's all he is. I don't want him to be a ghost haunting me wherever I go. I'm out from his reach now."
"Still... why talk about him?"
"Acne is a sore subject as well, but I'll discuss it when necessary. Karofsky is on your team. Actually, now he's on both your teams, the Titans and the New Directions. They're both important to you. So..."
Finn drank more milk.
Kurt kept on staring unrelentingly at him, waiting.
"He's... he's terrible," said Finn eventually.
"Terrible how?"
"Just terrible. Most of the time he refuses to participate... and when he does, he can't sing, and he's like the worst dancer ever. Mr. Schue keeps yelling at him, but it makes no difference."
"Mr. Schue? Really? That's not really his style. He's more the encouraging type. I'd expect that from Beiste."
"Just to show you how bad he is! Mr. Schue is the one yelling, while Coach Beiste just gave up on him. He's that bad."
"Wow."
"And later we were learning how to put on some cool zombie makeup, and he wouldn't take part in that either. He said makeup is for..." Finn's eyes widened. "Uh..."
"Some slur for gay men?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. That."
Kurt's jaw was tense. "Well, that's hardly unexpected, is it? What else?"
"He... I suggested doing a different number, just the guys, also in zombie mode. Like, practice for the big number on Saturday. And he... he tried to get the other guys from the team to vote me down. But the New Directions outvoted them. So we'll be doing that tomorrow."
"But what happens if he keeps on being a nuisance?"
"It'll be okay."
"How?"
"We'll put him in the back, where no one will pay much attention to him. If Mr. Schue doesn't cut him from the number entirely. We'd probably be better off anyway."
"What about the football team?"
"What about it?"
"I thought the whole purpose of getting the Titans to join glee club was to pacify the team in time for the next game?"
"Ah. It is. And... Well. I think it's working."
"It is?" Kurt sounded incredulous.
"Yeah, they're all very motivated. It's the championship game, after all. And glee is helping. The power of the song and all that."
"Even Karofsky?"
"I... Yeah! I mean... no, he doesn't like glee, and he doesn't like me, and he doesn't like that I'm the quarterback... but it's the championship game! He'll come through. I have... I have no doubt about it."
Kurt arched an eyebrow at Finn's words, but didn't dispute them. "If you say so."
Finn went to drink more, but found his mug empty.
"Want some more?" asked Kurt wryly.
"No, I'm good."
"You can talk to me, Finn." Kurt's voice was softer now. "About playing zombies on stage, and about dealing with real life monsters. And stage makeup. You know you can always talk to me about makeup."
Finn gave him a half-smile. "I know, bro. Thanks."
Kurt grinned and stood up, taking Finn's mug. "I should go. The midnight hour is close at hand..."
Finn checked his watch. "It's not even eight yet."
"The monologue, Finn. The rap."
"Oh, right."
6.
"Dude, why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"
"Well... Actually, yes, there is."
Finn rubbed the back of his hand on his lips. "And now?"
"Now you at least got rid of the milk moustache, but that was not what I was looking at. Are you wearing makeup?"
"No. Well, not now, I'm not."
"Oh, right!" Kurt smiled. "You said the glee guys would do a zombie practice number today. How did that go?"
"It was pretty great, actually. Mr. Schue loved it."
"May I ask what song..."
"She's Not There by The Zombies."
"I see. Appropriate, I guess. Anyway, you still have some black shadow on the inner corner of your eyelids, and some reddish smears on your neck."
"Oh. I guess not everything got out in the shower."
Kurt looked pained. "Shower? And with regular soap, I bet!"
"What?"
"I'll be right back." Kurt set his half-full mug on one of the still closed boxes that still crowded Finn's room and left, returning about a minute later with a little round box and two small bottles, one white and the other blue. But as he stepped into the room, he froze, looking nervously between Finn and the objects in his hands.
Finally, he placed the box and the bottles on the bed, within Finn's reach, and stepped back. "Moist towelettes," he croaked. "And the white bottle is regular makeup remover, while the blue one is eye makeup remover. The skin around the eyes is much more sensitive, so you need a special cream for it. Don't rub, just..." He demonstrated with his fingers on his own face how to wipe it clean. "Gently."
Finn eyed the offered items with a haunted expression.
With a sigh, Kurt picked up his mug and turned to the door. "I have homework, so..."
"Kurt?"
"Yes?"
"What do you think of me as a leader?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You played for the Titans. You were a member of New Directions. And now you're in neither of those groups, so... you can be more objectionable."
Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I hope you mean 'objective'. And since we're living together, I'm not sure I have enough emotional distance to guarantee I can leave all subjectivity aside."
"Still," Finn shrugged timidly. "I'd like to know what you think."
Kurt hesitated for a moment, then sat on one of the arms of the old recliner. He took a sip of milk before answering the question. "Finn... I think you could be a great leader."
"Could be," Finn repeated. "Meaning I'm not."
"Meaning you have your moments. And then you have... your other moments."
"Kurt, come on, just give it to me straight, okay? You think I suck."
"No, I don't," Kurt retorted. "I didn't say that."
"Well, you're not saying much of anything here."
"Let me ask you this, Finn. What exactly do you want? Do you want to be a leader? Or do you want to be in the lead?"
Finn's brows knitted in confusion. "What's the difference?"
"If all you want is to be in the lead, you don't need to do that much. You only need to figure out where people want to go, and place yourself ahead of them. To everyone it'll seem like you're guiding them."
"But I'm not?"
"No, because you're just going where they want to go. You're letting their will lead you."
"And the leader...?"
"The leader guides people through paths they might not want to cross at all. Paths that seem too hard, or that seem to go nowhere. The leader convinces them that the goal and the journey are worth all the effort and hardship."
"So one is the real thing, and the other is just a pretender."
"In short, yes."
Finn scowled at his brother. "And you're asking me if I want to be the real thing or just a fake. Do you really need to ask?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I've seen you display moments of true leadership. And moments of true fakery."
"When?! When was I ever a fake?"
"Come on, you know very well when! All those times you took the lead of the bullies in their dumpster-tossing routine. They'd do it no matter if you were there or not. But you showed up and made a point of being the one to give the final word, so it seemed like they were following your orders." Kurt shrugged. "That was your modus operandi for the longest time. You wanted the jocks to like you, so you did what they wanted to do, and pretended you were their ring leader. Throwing eggs, slushies and pee balloons, whatever horrible idea they came up with, you took the lead. But if you'll notice, they didn't stop when you stopped, and when you told them to stop, they turned against you."
Finn looked away. "That's not what I was talking about."
"But it is central to the matter of your question. You're always talking about being popular and about being a leader, Finn. Well, those two things aren't necessarily the same."
Finn drank his milk, taking a moment to absorb that thought. Kurt waited in silence.
"So... when was I a real leader?" asked Finn eventually.
"When you convinced the Titans to go along with the Single Ladies play, even though some of them preferred being perpetual losers to dancing on the field. And all those times in glee when we felt like giving up and you talked us out of it, kept us focused on what really matters. You have that kind of unwise optimism that inspires people to be better, to do better, to dream higher."
"Thanks." Finn frowned. "I think. Did you say 'unwise'?"
Kurt smirked. "Well, if you're going to lead people across the Red Sea, being crazy stupid enough to believe it can be done probably helps."
"I'm not planning to do that."
"Some would say that leading a glee club to social glory at a school like McKinley would be just as miraculous. Finn... why are you asking me this?"
"Nothing. Just... something Sam said today."
"Ah."
Finn sent a suspicious look at Kurt. "Ah?"
"You and Sam have so much in common. Such as this vibrant need to be popular. I'm surprised you guys haven't butted heads before."
"Is he a leader or a faker?"
Kurt frowned, considering the question. "I don't know. I don't feel like I have enough data to judge."
"I thought... I thought you might like him better than me."
Kurt's eyes widened in shock. "Why?"
"He stood up for you. Got a black eye for you. I wasn't even there."
"Neither was I. So while I am thankful to Sam for what he did, I'm not sure defending me was his only motivation. Maybe Karofsky said something to upset him. Maybe he did it to impress Quinn. Maybe he wanted to impress the other jocks, prove he can be the alpha male." Kurt shrugged. "I just don't really know him that well."
"He wanted to do that duet with you," Finn admitted in a small voice. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he said he'd given you your word, and he wouldn't go back on that."
Kurt did not look pleased at the slight change of subject. "So?"
"So you have good reason to like him better than me."
"He's not a homophobe. And okay, when I was at McKinley, maybe I thought that alone made him wonderful. But really, not being a hateful ignorant is not an accomplishment, it's the minimum requirement for any decent human being."
Finn cringed, his hand reaching to grasp the box of moist towelettes. "I'm not a homophobe," he mumbled.
Kurt's lips were set in a thin line as he stared at the little box as well. "I told you, I can't be entirely objective about this." He got on his feet again. "And I really do have homework to deal with. So... good night."
He was at the door when Finn called after him. "Kurt?"
"What?" said Kurt impatiently.
"Blue bottle is for the eyes, white one is for the rest, is that it?"
Kurt let out a deep breath, and as he gazed at Finn again, he seemed a little calmer. "Yes. Remember, don't rub, okay?"
Finn nodded. "Thanks, bro."
"You're welcome."
7.
"Oh, hey, you finally opened another box. At that pace, you might actually manage to unpack all your stuff by next Christmas, and maybe, just maybe, have your room fully decorated before you move away for college."
"It's my room," Finn grumbled. "Maybe I want to keep it like this."
"I might respect it more if I thought this was a deliberate attempt at minimalism. But I don't know, something tells me it has more to do with you being lazy and easily distracted."
"Dude! You're here just to insult me?"
"No, I came to see how you're doing. You were very quiet at dinner."
"I'm okay," Finn muttered, unpacking an old football trophy.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," said Kurt with a careless shrug.
"Hey, is that milk?" asked Finn, nodding at the mug Kurt was drinking from.
"Oh yes, warm and delicious."
"And where's my mug?"
"Still in the kitchen, I'd imagine."
"You didn't bring me milk? You always bring me milk!"
"I decided that if I'm going to keep talking to myself, I should be drinking by myself as well."
Finn looked perplexed. "What do you mean, talking to yourself? You're talking to me."
"And you respond by either giving me the silent treatment or telling me a bunch of lies. So maybe it's even worse than talking to myself, because I at least do the courtesy of trying to be honest to myself as much as possible."
Finn put the trophy down on the floor beside him. "Mercedes again?"
"And Rachel. Blaine and I had coffee with them at the Lima Bean this afternoon, and they were full of interesting stories."
"Great," said Finn bitterly. "I should've imagined."
"Yes, you should! And maybe you should have also remembered that I said I'd be there on the stands to watch the game. You thought I wasn't going to notice at some point that there was nothing to be watched? That I wouldn't wonder why none of the non-glee Titans showed up to play?"
"I thought I could fix all this in time for the game!" Finn huffed.
"So Rachel is right? Is this all about you being too proud to complain?"
"Is that what she said?"
"Yes. Accompanied by the obligatory 'Oh, Finn would feel so much better if we were still dating' spiel. One can't have a conversation with Rachel nowadays without hearing it at least twice."
Finn ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in dismay. "Listen, Kurt..."
"No. Sorry. I won't."
"What?"
"You're too proud to talk, I'm too proud to listen. Good night."
"Kurt, come on!"
But the other boy had already left, closing the door behind him.
--
(Chapter 3 continues HERE)