through the looking glass (interlude)
title: ttgl: Dominoes (traits, not pizza)
summary: blaine believed. blaine believed so much that he didn't doubt for a second that this guy making out with him was not his boyfriend. why can't doppelgangers just stay in their parallel universes?
rating: T
pairing: klaine; altverse kinn & blina
genre: borderline crack
warnings: mentions of drug use, infidelity. teacher/student relationship, unhealthy relationships.
notes: written for a prompt over the kurt_blaine prompt meme -- also completely wacky, so please be warned. sorry this took so long, personal issues and all that jazz, which explains the noticeably less upbeat tone of this interlude. we'll get back to our regularly scheduled zaniness before long. this interlude will take a look at the altverse kids, around late season two.
first chapter | previous chapter
(break it until you make it)
Rachel bit her lip, watching as Will left, aware of Artimus' stare. Sometimes, she had no idea how she ended up with such a hot, hot hot guy. A guy who happened to be her teacher.
Sometimes she didn't know why she had accepted the offer he had made while under the guise of coaching her for her next solo. (Rachel was grateful. She had only gotten that solo because he wanted in to her pants, since the other girls and Kurt normally got the lead female roles.) Her teacher should have been off-limits, creepy.
The thing was, Rachel couldn't do any better, could she? She had always liked Finn, but Finn was gayer than Rachel's two dads. She had also liked Kurt for a little while, but Kurt proved that while willing to have sex with a cardboard tube on video he would never be able to get it up for Rachel. Noah had been dating Lauren since middle school. Mike was a complete mess who spent his time lighting up and refused to date a "sober". Sam was a rich snob who claimed to be above all the girls in Ohio. Artimus was the coolest guy in school and about as likely to go out with Rachel as he was to give up dancing.
That was all the boys in the club, and Rachel would rather yank her teeth out then date someone outside the exclusive Nude Erections.
That left Will. Good looking, charismatic, prone to debt, tight abs, hand warm as it ghosted over her ass. The goatee was a little weird but she had learned to handle the tickle while they kissed. He had plenty of good qualities, certainly.
It was all fine.
(gimme gimme strangely gets)
Will bent down, rubbing at a scuff on his otherwise clean shoes. After all they had cost, he intended to keep them in top condition -- he couldn't afford to be put back into debt. The Glee club was starting to get a little suspicious about where all the money they raised for "charities" was going
From his kneeling position on the floor, Will could also admire Rachel's toned legs and her short skirt. When she first came to the school she wasn't his type -- dark-haired and poorly dressed and not classically pretty -- but after the nose job and the wardrobe rework she caught his eye for sure.
Of course, he wasn't a bad guy. He never looked twice until she was sixteen, then he made his intentions clear. It was just his luck that apparently Rachel had always wanted him right back, and they had started up a little affair on the side. Terri had divorced him when she found out, but she was meek enough to not turn him in.
Rachel was above the age of consent, after all. It was only him being her teacher that would get some raised eyebrows. She liked him, and he was all kinds of crazy for her (they were going to move to New York together when she graduated, and take Broadway by storm.) Luckily for Will, nobody knew -- and he intended to keep it that way.
Grinning, he rose back to his feet and continued down the hall, ghosting a hand over Rachel's pert rear as he went. Rachel started and blushed, but kept on talking to Artimus like nothing had happened.
Oh yes, Will was the master of getting what he wanted, and keeping it too.
(all you needed to be cool was to walk to school)
Artie frowned, watching as Rachel stared after a retreating Mr Schue. It was an open secret that the two were sleeping together -- they were both about as subtle as a turtle through a window, and Kurt had once pitch-perfectly mimicked both Mr Schue and Rachel's moans as he had overheard them one day while they were doing the dirty. The whole thing turned Artie's stomach.
He considered himself an okay guy. He was the best dancer at this school -- his only real competition was Brittany, who had given up dance after he turned her down and Mike, who for some reason turned away from his talent in exchange for drugs. Artie also thought he was nice, and cute enough, and that his muscles were certainly impressive enough. Kurt enjoyed feeling them up after all.
It didn't really make sense that Rachel had never been interested in him.
Artie had a serious thing for her, he did. He had turned down Brittany in face of his long-standing crush. He had teared up when she "fixed" her nose, he had held her when she cried about losing out on solos to the other girls and Kurt. He tried to be there for her without being the jerk who pressures a girl into more than she was ready for, and then suddenly it was one of those unspoken things about Glee club that she was sleeping with their director.
Artie hoped it was a good relationship, that Mr Schue treated her right. That was the only thing that could make up for the abuse of power that the whole arrangement reeked of. Really, all Artie wanted was for Rachel to be happy.
(don't risk getting your feet wet)
Mike scowled, snubbing out his cigarette in the water fountain. Mr Schue was striding by, wearing that creepy smirk he always had on after bumping into Rachel. Mike didn't get how nobody in this school saw how fucked everything was. How did they live in a world where teachers slept with students and everybody knew but nobody cared, a world where Kurt's best friends knew Finn wasn't genuine but didn't say anything.
Yeah, Mike hadn't said anything either, but fuck that. Fuck everything. Kurt didn't respect boundaries and he was one of many people at this school who didn't deserve anything more than what they got. Mike had been disillusioned a long time ago, and at this point lighting up was the only thing that made things a little better. It sorta made his life feel like Kid Cudi -- "so whatever, whatever". Whatever; it made things easier to deal with.
As Mike turned the hall he saw Artimus talking to Rachel, and his frown deepened. Truth be told, he thought Artimus was alright and that Rachel was only a victim, but they made him feel bitter. Rachel could have anything she wanted, but she never aimed high, and Artimus aimed high and took everything Mike wanted. To be able to dance, to enjoy life ... well, whatever. Fuck that. What would Mike be able to do with dancing? Nothing, so it was a waste to pursue it.
So what if Artimus always looked like he was having fun. Whatever.
(long live the Queen)
Tina smiled at Mike -- she was Queen, and Queens doted on their subjects -- but he only scowled at her, per usual. She wondered when he lost that middle school-cheerfulness, but in the end who cared. It wasn't like she was his therapist.
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out, smiling at boytoy on the screen. She had taught Blaine to call at lunch, and he was well-trained. "Hey babe, how's my favourite hottie?" She made sure to pitch her voice a little on the loud side, just to remind everyone that she had a gorgeous boyfriend who called her to see how she was even though they were at the same school.
"Favourite yo? Does that mean you got others up in this thing?" Blaine asked, not sounding particularly jealous. Tina giggled, batting her fake lashes at some random boy, who turned red, hand spasming on his backpack strap. Blaine didn't have to worry -- she knew neither of them were the type to cheat.
"No silly!" Tina internally winced at how sugary her voice sounded, which happened every now and again when her guards weren't up. Tina was above worrying about that sort of thing though: she was Queen after all. "You're the only one for me."
"I diggit." There was some rustling on the other end and Tina rolled her eyes. Yeesh, she could handle Blaine's descent into white rapping territory as long as he was attentive and charming -- checking homework while on the phone with her did not fall under those areas. "Sorry, gotta go. I'm doing extra work for class."
"Love you," Tina purred, squashing down her annoyance.
"Yeah, sure." Blaine said, before hanging up. Tina pulled her phone from her ear, glaring at it. Only for a split-second though -- she couldn't let her subjects doubt the strength or their Queen, of their Queen and her King. She and Blaine power coupled the hell of the school, and Tina wasn't about to lose the cred that gave her.
Smile in place, she began to head to the cafeteria, adding a swing to her hips to catch all the boys' looks and all the girls' jealousy.
It was good to be Queen.
(following you is the best thing to do)
Quinn sighed, dragging her knees a little closer to her chest and watching as Tina walked by, eyes guiltily straying down her hips and following their wiggle. Quinn would never come out about her bisexuality, since Brittany wanted their relationship to be a secret, but it was okay to look, right? Quinn hoped so. She would have to ask Brittany.
Speak of the devil (and He won't come, that was a misconception, but He will take notice of you). Brittany was stalking down the hall, making sure to clip Tina with her elbow as they passed each other by. Tina shot a nasty look over her shoulder but didn't say anything, and Brittany was smirking when she reached Quinn. "Why are you on the floor?"
"Ms Brittany." Quinn rose to her feet, brushing down her dress. "I was waiting for you."
"Like a dog." Brittany said, brow raised. Quinn flushed, biting her lip and eyeing Brittany uncertainly. Sometimes she wasn't sure if Brittany liked her-liked her and was just playing mean as part of some weird sex game or if she actually didn't like her. Quinn was the only one who had stayed by her side all these years: Brittany should appreciate her.
"Sorry." Quinn didn't know what she was apologizing for, but she was used to it. "Want to get lunch?"
"Already ate, darling," Brittany drawled, expression condescending. Quinn didn't take that one personally: Brittany gave everyone that look before long. "Run along if you want some though, I need to research some parallel universe theory."
Brittany glanced around at the hall -- nearly empty now, everyone having headed off to lunch eat elsewhere -- and skimmed a hand down Quinn's neck, thumb just brushing the cord of her blair witch pendant.
"See you," Quinn said as she beamed, brushing a hand along Brittany's waist as the other girl pulled away. Brittany only smirked, and left. Quinn watched her go.
(bury me in your sweetness)
Lauren buried her face in Noah's neck, laughing breathlessly. Her lips were still tingling from his kisses, and his hands were warm on her waist. "We should go eat."
"Kissing you keeps me stronger than food ever could," Noah murmured in her ear, and Lauren giggled again. The wonderful think about Noah was how poetic he could get. She knew he wasn't the smartest, but she didn't notice or care when he spoke so beautifully.
"You're sweet, but I know the caf is serving your favourite ..." Lauren kissed his neck and he laughed softly into her hair.
"You're my favourite."
"No, you're my favourite." Lauren kissed his neck again, and Noah pulled back so he could kiss her on the lips. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, pressed together. Lauren felt about ready to die of happiness. It seemed her life was perfect: she was part of the most popular club in school, she was the best wrestler around, she had a long-term boyfriend who never got tired of her. There was nothing that could ruin this, nothing.
Slowly Noah pulled back, and rested his forehead against hers. "Alright. Shall I treat my lady to lunch?"
"He shall."
(firing neurons burning at the softness)
Brittany felt a certain buoyancy whenever she finished up an encounter with Quinn, one that made her walk with a slight bounce and toss her head a little more. It was only hormones, of course. Endorphins. Flooding her body because of the sexual promise, the excitement of touching someone in a more than friendly way at school. Chemicals hardly indicated emotion, though Brittany supposed she felt some sort of detached affection for her sidekick, the same way some people enjoyed slinkies and plants.
A door opened to her left, and Brittany's well-tuned reflexes allowed her to swirl out of the way of a red Lauren, exiting the closet with Noah. Brittany gave them her most haughty glance, well aware that they were just beasts at their most base right now: it was one thing to enjoy sexual situations, but letting lust consume you was foolish. "Plebeians," Brittany said, knowing that with people of a lesser intellect the implication of a glare was pointless.
"Oh." Lauren just stood there awkwardly, ducking her gaze. It was eerily reminiscent of Quinn and made Brittany feel a rush of power. She knew, intellectually, that she wasn't being the nicest but who the hell cared? She subscribed to much of existentialism, and in her eyes the world was karmaless and you made of it what you wanted: if Lauren didn't want to be mocked, she should relearn how to be a badass, instead of relying on her status and hot boyfriend to make things easier for her. Brittany believed in being independent.
"Screw off Brittany." Noah snapped, taking a small step forward. Brittany blinked, but it wasn't all that surprising -- she had long since learned that everyone could get nasty, and he was protection his long-time mate. That was just natural.
"If only because I have important work to do, work far above your heads." Brittany sniffed, turning on her heel and stalking off. Picking a fight with Noah right now was hardly a useful addition to her time, and Brittany liked to be efficient. She could hear them murmuring gently to each other and pushed down an admittedly rational but unwanted surge of jealousy. Brittany knew she did not need such romantic entanglements -- she only needed herself, and whatever tools she chose to apply to the task at hand.
Quinn could come along for the ride, maybe.
(thou art more lovely and more temperate)
Noah sighed, pressing another kiss to the side of Lauren's head. She was frowning into her fries and if there was one thing Noah hated, it was to see his other half looking so sad. Lauren was everything to him -- he was like, ninety-nine percent sure she made the sun rise and set, and she was the only reason his heart kept beating. Noah knew they were just in highschool, but he knew they would make it.
"Don't frown. I like your smile." Noah kissed her temple again, and Lauren quirked a weak smile.
"It's just ... I wish I could still stand up to her. I used to do it ... but it seems pointless. I'm happy, she's not, why bother looking for energy to get snarky?" Lauren grabbed a fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Noah grinned.
"Not fighting is good. I wouldn't want you hurt." Noah's heart broke at the thought, and squeezed her a little more tightly. Lauren rolled her eyes like she always did when he got touchy-feely in public, but leaned into his touch.
"I don't have to worry about that with you around." Lauren said, and Noah smiled fondly.
"You really don't."
(a diva is a female version of a hustla)
Mercedes took a sip of her pop, choking a little as she laughed at Tina's story about her earlier phone call with her boyfriend. "So he's reciting me this love letter over the phone, and I'm just like, Blaine, babe, I gotta get to lunch!" Tina shook her blonde hair out, amused.
"Needy little bitch." Kurt eyed his clean nails boredly. Mercedes nodded in agreement -- whenever you saw Tina and Blaine together, he was incredibly attentive and caring and nearly died of pleasure when Tina would give him a kiss or acknowledge him. It was pretty pathetic. Mercedes had had a few boyfriends over the years but none of them had tripped over themselves like that, and she was glad.
"Hush, Kurt. Like Finn isn't just as bad." Tina glanced in the direction of Finn, who was staring their way sad puppy expression. Mercedes felt her smile fall a little. Sam was sitting behind them, enjoying his specially prepared fancy food, and Mercedes would bet that Finn was staring at Richie Rich, not Kurt. She sometimes thought she should tell Kurt, but Kurt wasn't exactly loyal to Finn so he probably didn't care if Finn was fooling around on the side. Mercedes had learned one hard lesson in the course of her life: never embarrass yourself, just do what will make you look good. It had landed her solos and boyfriends, so she fully believed in it.
"True enough." Kurt leaned back, grinning. "Wouldn't Finn fucking Anderson be like, really hot? Especially if they were both super needy?"
Mercedes shot a look at Tina, judging by her reaction. When Tina laughed, nodding in agreement, Mercedes chimed in as well. It was funny after all.
(i wish i could quit you)
Finn sighed happily, watching the way Sam's full lips wrapped around his silver fork, eating some fancy food Finn couldn't even pronounce. Ever since Sam had transferred at the beginning of the year, Finn had wanted him. Badly. Sam had a body cut like a diamond, and was Finn's real type, more than Kurt ever could be.
It wasn't that Kurt wasn't attractive. Sure, he was. He wore all that leather and could do the sort of things with his body that felt incredibly good. Looks weren't everything though, and Finn needed more than that. He needed for his lover to not make him want to scream -- it was just something about Kurt that made him want to punch the guy in the face. He was grating, he was obsessive, and he cheated on Finn on a regular basis and when Finn tried to complain, just accused Finn of being too clingy. Finn might have liked him well enough when they first started dating, but by now he hated Kurt with a passion.
"Hey man." Finn looked up to see Karofsky standing there, looking a little anxious. Finn didn't blame him -- Kurt's favourite target to bully was Karofsky, and just being in the same room would be worrisome.
"What's up?" Finn asked. He had nothing against Karofsky -- sure, he was only in the middle of the social ladder and had been one of the guys Kurt had cheated on him with, but the guy had always been a friend.
"I have a proposition." Karofsky took a seat, glancing at Kurt's table nervously. Kurt was playing with Mercedes hair, suggesting a new haircut or something (he thought he was so great, best at everything, even if he wasn't.) "You want Sam, right?"
Finn nodded. Karofsky was always watching, of course he knew. "I'm going to dump Kurt soon. It'll just be way awkward, since we're like, step-brothers." That was the only reason Finn had waited this long -- he was sort of thinking that after they moved out would be a great time to go for it.
"Don't do it." Finn looked at Karofsky, frowning, and Karofsky rushed to explain. "Stay with him. Marryn him. Then break his heart. I'll pay you."
"Are you serious?" Finn stared. Karofsky nodded. "How much?"
"Trust me," Karofsky muttered. "More than enough."
Finn looked at Kurt, who was flirtily patting the arm of Artimus, who had just walked in with Rachel. Past them, he could just see Sam, shoulders broad against his shirt.
"Cool."
(don't need money when you look like that do you honey)
Sam liked McKinley. Sam liked Nude Erections. Sam liked Kurt, as weird as the guy was. Sam liked Mercedes -- really, really liked Mercedes. Sam used to really like Quinn, until he learned that she was serious about the devil worship. Overall, he liked everything about Lima, Ohio -- except for the very important factor of it not having his family's graves.
It wasn't exactly a secret that Sam's family was dead, but everyone assumed it had happened a long time ago. It hadn't though, in fact it had only been a few years. Sam missed them with a kind of ferocity that surprised him, since he had been at odds with his family for most his life. The grief made it hard to act on all the liking he did. He only wanted to scream, to hit people. He wanted to throw all the money he had inherited into a fire, but at the same time he was too greedy and scared of what he would do without it to ever follow through on that plan.
Sam would give it up if it meant having his family back. He could skips lunch, stomach growling because they couldn't afford it, if it meant having Stacey and Stevie there to bug him or have his parents send him to bed at night. Poverty would be an easy price for his family's lives, but he knew that it would never happen.
So he spent it -- what the hell, who cared? He got nice lunches and he helped pay for hotel rooms when they were at Nationals. He let it get to his head, because it was easier to be a snob casually nicknamed Richie Rich by Kurt instead of a freak who broke down crying everywhere like Santana. Much easier.
(do you ever feel like a plastic bag)
Santana sighed, dropping her trash in the garbage and stalking out the cafeteria. She needed to get herself to the library and finish up some extra work for one of her classes. Not her favourite class because she sucked at it like she sucked at everything else, but there was one very nice thing about it: Blaine Anderson. He sat next to her, since they were fellow Glee clubbers and they were elite, and Santana stared at him. A lot.
He was incredibly gorgeous, she knew. She could appreciate those eyelashes, his curls, the set of his shoulders, his tan fingers. She found his rapping obsession oddly endearing, and like every other person capable of breath she swooned a little when he turned on the charm -- that is to say, all the time. If there was any guy at this school she could see herself dating, it was him.
She just wished he did something for her, that she still didn't feel her heart beat a little faster when she saw Brittany change for gym. She hated Brittany, after all. That wasn't something eternal enemies did, check each other out, repressed lesbian or not. Santana was so stupid, so incapable to do anything right, even her attractions.
Santana wasn't even sure she could land Blaine. He was dating Tina (a girl who inspired so much envy in Santana) and was King of the school. He was as likely to date "Santa Stalker" as he was to return to Dalton or declare himself gay. She wasn't even his type -- she wasn't blonde, she wasn't confident, she cried too much.
Still, he did these little things that made her feel that things might not be hopeless. He always shared notes with her, touched the small of her back as they left class, laughed at her cautious jokes. He made her feel stronger, just by showing that he didn't mind everything that was wrong about her.
There he was, seated at one of the library tables, scribbling at his worksheets. Taking a deep breath, Santana walked up. "Hey," she said softly. He glanced at her, then smiled. "Can I sit down?"
"Sure shawty, ain't no biggie." Blaine pulled the chair next to him out, and Santana sat down carefully. "Need something?"
"I need you." Santana's hands flew to her mouth, horrified. How had that slipped out? She had managed to sit on her stupid infatuation for weeks now, and she blurted it just like that? Blaine was going to hate her, he wouldn't want to sit near her, he was going to reject her --
"Santana." Santana looked up cautiously. Blaine's expression was strange, eyes unsure and mouth a tight line. "Santana, I care about you, I do." Santana felt a flicker of hope that was quickly put out. "But you aren't my type. I need someone ... more like me."
"Oh." Santana looked down, feeling wetness burning at her eyes. "Alright. I get it. It's okay." She jumped to her feet, pushing the chair away and trying to blink back the tears. "Sorry to bother you, I'll go."
"Santana--"
"Sorry," Santana repeated, beating a quick retreat. To make things worse she could see Brittany standing in the Physics section, smirking at her. This rejection would be all over the school in about five minutes -- the only thing that could make it better would to get Blaine. She would have to try, prove to everyone that she wasn't a complete failure. Prove to Brittany that she wasn't a complete failure.
(there's a river in egypt)
Blaine watched Santana run off, fiddling with his pen anxiously. He wanted to chase after her, but that would give her the wrong idea. He didn't want that -- he just wanted to be friends. He had been so sure that Santana wasn't interested in him, and it felt nice to take a break from having every single girl in school fawn over him. Not that Blaine didn't want to be a stud -- he totally did. He just sometimes wanted something a little ... different.
Tina wasn't different. She was like all the others, only after his looks and status and charm. She didn't really care about who he was none of them did. Not the girls, not the boys. They just let themselves fall for him and didn't think twice about the man behind the greatness.
Kurt didn't do that, not really. Blaine couldn't stand the guy, but he appreciated that. Kurt never hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking, all the time, and that had come in a series of comments aimed to cutting Blaine down to size. His clothes, his hair, his attitude -- "god, Anderson, why are you such a douchebag?" There was something weirdly refreshing about the snarkiness, which was Blaine's only excuse for my he thought so much about a guy he hated.
Otherwise, it was a mystery. Why Blaine couldn't stop admiring the way those leather pants laced up the sides of Kurt's long legs, or his beautiful voice. Why Blaine couldn't explain that feeling he got when Kurt bodychecked him during basketball in gym class and managed to slide a hand down Blaine's arm in his usual inappropriate way -- if it was disgust, it was a new kind to Blaine.
Sometimes, late at night, Blaine allowed himself to wonder if he might be -- no. He had never felt like that, never. Blaine liked girls, and he was attracted to girls. Tina just wasn't his type, or Santana -- maybe Blaine should try with other girls, see what would happen. It wasn't like Tina would dump him -- she needed him, just as much as he needed her.
(and it's called denial)
Kurt tilted his chin this way and that, examining his jawline in the mirror, the hickey Finn had left him. Being marked like that, claimed, actually did strange things to Kurt's heart, a fact that bothered him deeply. Finn was just for sex, and free dinners and movie dates. At most, Kurt could care for him in capacity of a step-brother, but when it came to their relationship-relationship, Kurt was too sex addicted to be tied down.
Next to him Tina was reapplying her blush, eyes distant. Kurt nodded in approval -- Tina had asked him for a makeover ages ago, and he thought he had done an excellent job and was glad to see her upkeeping it properly. "You've gotten so good at that," Kurt complimented.
"Thanks." Tina winked, closing her blush with a snap and tucking everything away in her makeup bag. "So how are things with Finn?" For a second he thought her tone sounded off, but he brushed it off as his imagination. "Why was he talking to Karofsky?"
No idea. "Probably agreeing to my threesome suggestion -- he's been weirdly hesitant about it for like, forever." Kurt shook his head sadly. "Not that I have any intention of letting Karofsky near this--" Kurt gestured at his ass "--again. Loser had his chance, and he doesn't do it for me anymore." Little bit of a lie there, since nearly every guy did it for Kurt, but he wasn't going to admit that.
"Work it." Tina nodded in approval, tucking a strand of her blonde hair into place. She needed to touch up her roots. "Boys gotta know that we're in charge, right?"
Kurt wasn't a girl, a fact Tina liked to forget. It didn't really bother him though. "I wear he pants, for sure. You need to touch up your roots, by the way."
"Appointment this Saturday," Tina replied immediately, making a face in the mirror. "I'm all over that. Date with Blaine afterward." Tina's taste in men could use some work -- the only appealing thing about Blaine was that his face was built for blowjobs.
"Work it," Kurt said, a little snarky. "C'mon, let's go find Mercedes."
(interlude end)
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