Fic: Of Pavarotti and Other Golden Things (2/12)
Title: Of Pavarotti and Other Golden Things (2/12)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Glee: none, Tangled: whole film
Warnings: Vague violence, Dave being a bit of an idiot.
Word Count: 1,839
Previous Chapter: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I own neither Glee nor Tangled, they belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Blaine Anderson-sorry, Brynn Rider-was just trying to hide from that damn horse. And Kurt-well, he just wants to get out of his tower. Is that too much to ask? Well, yeah, but that’s not the point.
A/N: So, this is the second chapter! Now we actually get to meet some characters :D I hope you guys like it! Un-beta’d, so any mistakes are mine.
"Oh, Pavarotti!"
A lanky, long-haired figure dropped from the rafters of the ancient tower and crumpled into a heap on the floor. He leapt up again quickly, brushing dust from his knees and looking around.
“Pavarotti? Pav?”
Sighing, the boy stomped over to the open shutters and stuck his head outside. “Pavarotti! I was calling you!”
The little yellow Warbler cheeped and fluttered towards the boy’s head, wheeling around once or twice and then dipping to perch on his shoulder. He nipped affectionately at the boy’s ear and settled himself down comfortably.
“Ok, Pav, I spent a long time on this, so you have to tell me if it’s good. Ok?”
The bird twittered and shook itself.
“Alright. So, this is called...well, I haven’t named it yet. But I will. Anyway, it’s called Unnamed, and it’s by Kurt I-don’t-know-my-last-name-but-I-think-it’s-Karofsky. You ready?”
The warbler gave a bored whistle. Kurt shook out the paper and stood up straight.
“Seven am, the usual morning line-up,” he sang, uncertainly starting a few hesitant steps around the room, “Start on the chores, and sweep ‘til the floor’s all clean! Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up, sweep again and by then it’s like seven twenty-“
Pavarotti gave a disproving tweet and Kurt paused. “No? What about seven fifteen?”
The bird bobbed in a motion that was probably the same as a nod and Kurt smiled, starting his twirling dance and continuing the song.
“And so I’ll read a book, or maybe two or three, I’ll add a few more drawings to my gallery-“
Kurt’s dance increased in speed until he was whirling around the room, skilfully avoiding tripping over his hair and jumping random articles of clothing lying on the floor until a peach scarf caught his feet and he tripped.
“And then I’ll brush and brush and brush my-agh!”
Pavarotti jumped into the air above Kurt’s head and wheeled above him slowly, waiting for the boy to get up off the floor.
“Ow,” Kurt groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his elbows where they were a little scratched. The bird chirped and settled on the chair above him as Kurt pulled himself upright.
“So,” he laughed lightly, “I don’t think I should try that again, huh Pav? Maybe I should get on to drawing instead.”
Pavarotti cheeped and flew over to the window, landing unsteadily on one of the loose slats of the shutters. He jerked his head towards the horizon.
“I know, Pav, I know,” Kurt sighed, “It’s two nights away. I’ve been thinking about asking Dave if I can go. I mean, I’m almost eighteen, right? I can take care of myself.”
Kurt wandered over to the window. “I can take care of myself. Right, Pav?”
The bird tweeted quietly and dug his toes into Kurt’s shirt, pulling him towards the desk covered in paper and pencils. Kurt rubbed his nose and sat down on the rickety chair, shifting slightly and making the wood creak.
“Ok, Pav, I was thinking I would work on the-gah!”
The chair collapsed under Kurt and he fell to the floor, pulling half of the sheets with him. Pavarotti jumped to the desk and perched there calmly, watching as Kurt untangled himself from the splintered remains of the chair and glared at the mess scattered over the wooden floorboards.
“Today,” he snarled, “Is not my day. I can’t believe-“
“Kurt! Kurt! Let down your hair!”
Kurt’s head snapped up and he scrambled to pick up the sheets from the floor.
“Pav, give me a hand,” he whispered, piling them onto the desk, “Dave hates it when I leave the floor a mess, and it’s my birthday tomorrow! I need to get on his good side!”
“Kurt! Hurry the hell up!”
Kurt whimpered and shoved the rest of the papers under the desk, sprinting to the window and throwing countless, golden-brown loops of hair out. Before he could slide the rest into the hoop that made it easier to haul Dave up, his neck jerked painfully as his hair was yanked down.
“Ow,” he hissed, frantically bouncing onto his toes in order to slide the hair through the loop. After three tries he made it, hauling on the makeshift rope with shaky arms.
“Kurt, honey,” Dave said scathingly as he stepped out of the loop of hair and into the room, “I don’t understand why you don’t pull me up faster. You’ve got all this arm strength, why don’t you put it to good use?”
David Karofsky was a huge man, and by huge I mean huge. He stood at six-one, and towered over Kurt’s measly five-ten. He was muscled to the point of it being strange, the way veins bulged from under his burned skin. His hair lay flat against his forehead, and his eyes were small and glared out at you menacingly, apart from when he looked at Kurt. His face was wide, with a thick neck sloping into wide, boulder-like shoulders.
Kurt smiled nervously. “S-sorry, Dave, I fell on my shoulder today. I think I might need some-“
Dave clapped him on his shoulder and Kurt flinched. “You’re so clumsy, babe. So, guess what I bought today?”
Kurt shrugged, a smile lighting up his face. He loved it when Dave bought him surprise presents, even if he wasn’t sure he could hold it right now. His arms were still shaking from the exertion of hauling Dave up the tower.
“Um, Dave, could I talk to you about something-“
Dave flexed his bicep and Kurt wrinkled his nose a little. Sure, muscles are nice, but in abundance they’re also kinda gross.
“Kurt, sweetie, Dave’s feeling a little run-down. Why don’t you do some singing and then I can tell you what I bought you?”
Kurt grimaced, because now he’d never get to ask. “Um, ok. Wait riiiight there.”
He dashed across the room and hauled the old armchair over with unsteady arms. In front of that he placed a stool and then he steered Dave over to it, already humming under his breath.
As usual, he could hear Dave mumbling under his breath as he sang. Kurt ignored it and concentrated on getting through the song as quickly as possible without his voice cracking. Once he was finished, Dave stood up with a happy sigh and stretched, his back clicking loudly and making Kurt feel uncomfortable.
“Ok!” he announced, “So, I was going to tell you earlier, but-“
“Kurt, I bought you some new gunk!” Dave announced proudly, holding out the pot. Kurt took it gingerly and resisted the urge to tell him that this wasn’t ‘gunk’, it was face cream.
“Thank you, Dave,” he said, inching closer, “So, like I was saying...”
Dave was flexing his muscles again, looking at himself in the mirror. “Uh-huh, honey-bun?”
Kurt mimed gagging to Pavarotti, who tweeted quietly. As much as Kurt loved Dave, the constant nicknames were embarrassing. He was seventeen, for gods sakes!
“So, um, it’s a really really big day for me in two days...” Kurt took a deep breath, “It’s my birthday! And so, I was wondering if-“
“Kurt,” Dave frowned, “I’ve already got you a birthday present. That gunk.”
Kurt’s shoulders slumped. “But-but-it’s not even good gunk, I mean, face cream. And this is a really big birthday, Dave, I’m going to be eighteen!”
Dave stopped his flexing and turned to face Kurt. “What do you want, then? I can get you more gunk. Or that weird stuff you put on your legs.”
“Hairy legs are ugly,” Kurt grumbled, “And actually, I had something really specific in mind.”
“Yeah? A special kind of gunk?”
“Actually...” Kurt backed up and grabbed a picture off his desk, “I really really want you to take me to see the singing lights?”
Dave’s face screwed up like a crumpled piece of paper and then smoothed out again. “You mean the canaries?”
“What?”
“The canaries. Big, yellow birds that sing?”
Kurt shook his head. “No, I’ve got a book on birds, and I know that none grow big enough to see from that kind of distance. Plus, I studied all their migrating habits, and no species of bird migrates just in one day. One night, even. It’s every year, on my birthday, Dave, and I just want to see them once.”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “You want to go outside?”
“Well-“
“Oh, Kurt. Look at you, breakable little thing. You can’t go outside alone, you’ll get hurt!”
Kurt sighed. “But you’d be with me...”
Dave pulled the collar of Kurt’s shirt slowly over his shoulder, exposing the nasty bruise from falling out of the rafters that morning. “You bruise like a peach,” he said, stroking the darkened skin, “Within a few hours you’d be virtually unrecognisable.”
“But-“
“Shh, Kurt. Remember, Davie knows best!”
Dave swung Kurt in a circle, the thinner boy tripping over his own hair in the process and sprawling on the floor.
“You know what’s out there, don’t you Kurt?”
“Not really,” Kurt spat dust out of his mouth and tried to get up.
“It’s a scary world out there, honey!” Dave picked him up was if he were nothing but a twig and placed him on the table.
“Ruffians and thugs,” he listed, “Poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals, snakes, the plague-“
“No, but-“
“Yes! Also large bugs, men with pointy teeth and-“
“Stop it, Dave, it’s really not funny!”
Dave pulled him roughly down from the table and Kurt almost somersaulted, landing in such a way that made his ankle twinge. Dave smirked.
“It’s alright, I understand,” he laughed, and Kurt pushed his hair out of his face helplessly as Dave spun him around.
“You wouldn’t last a minute, Kurt, just look at you! Sloppy, underdressed-“ Kurt pulled the shoulder of his shirt up again, blushing, “-immature, clumsy, please-they’ll eat you up a like a hawk eats a warbler!”
Kurt cast a nervous glance at Pavarotti.
“You don’t even have any shoes-“
“That’s because you never buy me any!” Kurt snapped, pulling away and grabbing a lock of hair from Dave’s hand.
“Kurt, don’t you dare snap at me,” Dave said, his tone changing from light and teasing to dark and sinister.
“Why won’t you let me out?” Kurt shouted, “I’m nearly eighteen, Dave! I can’t stay here forever!”
“Yes, you can!” Dave shouted back, his hands slamming into Kurt’s shoulders hard enough to make him fall.
Kurt let out a little, strangled sob as he crumpled, and Dave’s face went white.
“Look-look what you made me do! Look!” he snarled, turning on his heel and grabbing his cloak from where it was lying on the ground.
Kurt felt a tug as his hair was thrown out of the window, and then his head jerked back and he was dragged across the floor as Dave slid down it.
Helpless, Kurt grabbed onto anything he could to keep himself stationary until his shoulders lodged painfully under the windowseat, sticking there and keeping him firmly anchored to the floor, even as his neck was pulled at an odd angle against the edge of the old wood. The pressure stopped a few seconds after that, allowing Kurt to lift his head from its painful position and rub the back of his neck.
Curling his knees to his chest, he let out a strangled sob. He was stuck here. He’d tried his best, and he’d failed.
**************
A/N number 2: So, I hope you guys liked this version of Dave? I tried to make him...less mindlessly violent. Also, these chapters will get longer, I promise-it’s hard to make everything make sense and keep it long without going into too much detail, gah D:
I’m also sorry this took so long. I had exams and then my dad was in hospital twice in two months, and I was just like AJKSHKSDH I want to write but I don’t have TIEMM.
So. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I’ll see you in the next chapter!
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Glee: none, Tangled: whole film
Warnings: Vague violence, Dave being a bit of an idiot.
Word Count: 1,839
Previous Chapter: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I own neither Glee nor Tangled, they belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Blaine Anderson-sorry, Brynn Rider-was just trying to hide from that damn horse. And Kurt-well, he just wants to get out of his tower. Is that too much to ask? Well, yeah, but that’s not the point.
A/N: So, this is the second chapter! Now we actually get to meet some characters :D I hope you guys like it! Un-beta’d, so any mistakes are mine.
"Oh, Pavarotti!"
A lanky, long-haired figure dropped from the rafters of the ancient tower and crumpled into a heap on the floor. He leapt up again quickly, brushing dust from his knees and looking around.
“Pavarotti? Pav?”
Sighing, the boy stomped over to the open shutters and stuck his head outside. “Pavarotti! I was calling you!”
The little yellow Warbler cheeped and fluttered towards the boy’s head, wheeling around once or twice and then dipping to perch on his shoulder. He nipped affectionately at the boy’s ear and settled himself down comfortably.
“Ok, Pav, I spent a long time on this, so you have to tell me if it’s good. Ok?”
The bird twittered and shook itself.
“Alright. So, this is called...well, I haven’t named it yet. But I will. Anyway, it’s called Unnamed, and it’s by Kurt I-don’t-know-my-last-name-but-I-think-it’s-Karofsky. You ready?”
The warbler gave a bored whistle. Kurt shook out the paper and stood up straight.
“Seven am, the usual morning line-up,” he sang, uncertainly starting a few hesitant steps around the room, “Start on the chores, and sweep ‘til the floor’s all clean! Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up, sweep again and by then it’s like seven twenty-“
Pavarotti gave a disproving tweet and Kurt paused. “No? What about seven fifteen?”
The bird bobbed in a motion that was probably the same as a nod and Kurt smiled, starting his twirling dance and continuing the song.
“And so I’ll read a book, or maybe two or three, I’ll add a few more drawings to my gallery-“
Kurt’s dance increased in speed until he was whirling around the room, skilfully avoiding tripping over his hair and jumping random articles of clothing lying on the floor until a peach scarf caught his feet and he tripped.
“And then I’ll brush and brush and brush my-agh!”
Pavarotti jumped into the air above Kurt’s head and wheeled above him slowly, waiting for the boy to get up off the floor.
“Ow,” Kurt groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his elbows where they were a little scratched. The bird chirped and settled on the chair above him as Kurt pulled himself upright.
“So,” he laughed lightly, “I don’t think I should try that again, huh Pav? Maybe I should get on to drawing instead.”
Pavarotti cheeped and flew over to the window, landing unsteadily on one of the loose slats of the shutters. He jerked his head towards the horizon.
“I know, Pav, I know,” Kurt sighed, “It’s two nights away. I’ve been thinking about asking Dave if I can go. I mean, I’m almost eighteen, right? I can take care of myself.”
Kurt wandered over to the window. “I can take care of myself. Right, Pav?”
The bird tweeted quietly and dug his toes into Kurt’s shirt, pulling him towards the desk covered in paper and pencils. Kurt rubbed his nose and sat down on the rickety chair, shifting slightly and making the wood creak.
“Ok, Pav, I was thinking I would work on the-gah!”
The chair collapsed under Kurt and he fell to the floor, pulling half of the sheets with him. Pavarotti jumped to the desk and perched there calmly, watching as Kurt untangled himself from the splintered remains of the chair and glared at the mess scattered over the wooden floorboards.
“Today,” he snarled, “Is not my day. I can’t believe-“
“Kurt! Kurt! Let down your hair!”
Kurt’s head snapped up and he scrambled to pick up the sheets from the floor.
“Pav, give me a hand,” he whispered, piling them onto the desk, “Dave hates it when I leave the floor a mess, and it’s my birthday tomorrow! I need to get on his good side!”
“Kurt! Hurry the hell up!”
Kurt whimpered and shoved the rest of the papers under the desk, sprinting to the window and throwing countless, golden-brown loops of hair out. Before he could slide the rest into the hoop that made it easier to haul Dave up, his neck jerked painfully as his hair was yanked down.
“Ow,” he hissed, frantically bouncing onto his toes in order to slide the hair through the loop. After three tries he made it, hauling on the makeshift rope with shaky arms.
“Kurt, honey,” Dave said scathingly as he stepped out of the loop of hair and into the room, “I don’t understand why you don’t pull me up faster. You’ve got all this arm strength, why don’t you put it to good use?”
David Karofsky was a huge man, and by huge I mean huge. He stood at six-one, and towered over Kurt’s measly five-ten. He was muscled to the point of it being strange, the way veins bulged from under his burned skin. His hair lay flat against his forehead, and his eyes were small and glared out at you menacingly, apart from when he looked at Kurt. His face was wide, with a thick neck sloping into wide, boulder-like shoulders.
Kurt smiled nervously. “S-sorry, Dave, I fell on my shoulder today. I think I might need some-“
Dave clapped him on his shoulder and Kurt flinched. “You’re so clumsy, babe. So, guess what I bought today?”
Kurt shrugged, a smile lighting up his face. He loved it when Dave bought him surprise presents, even if he wasn’t sure he could hold it right now. His arms were still shaking from the exertion of hauling Dave up the tower.
“Um, Dave, could I talk to you about something-“
Dave flexed his bicep and Kurt wrinkled his nose a little. Sure, muscles are nice, but in abundance they’re also kinda gross.
“Kurt, sweetie, Dave’s feeling a little run-down. Why don’t you do some singing and then I can tell you what I bought you?”
Kurt grimaced, because now he’d never get to ask. “Um, ok. Wait riiiight there.”
He dashed across the room and hauled the old armchair over with unsteady arms. In front of that he placed a stool and then he steered Dave over to it, already humming under his breath.
As usual, he could hear Dave mumbling under his breath as he sang. Kurt ignored it and concentrated on getting through the song as quickly as possible without his voice cracking. Once he was finished, Dave stood up with a happy sigh and stretched, his back clicking loudly and making Kurt feel uncomfortable.
“Ok!” he announced, “So, I was going to tell you earlier, but-“
“Kurt, I bought you some new gunk!” Dave announced proudly, holding out the pot. Kurt took it gingerly and resisted the urge to tell him that this wasn’t ‘gunk’, it was face cream.
“Thank you, Dave,” he said, inching closer, “So, like I was saying...”
Dave was flexing his muscles again, looking at himself in the mirror. “Uh-huh, honey-bun?”
Kurt mimed gagging to Pavarotti, who tweeted quietly. As much as Kurt loved Dave, the constant nicknames were embarrassing. He was seventeen, for gods sakes!
“So, um, it’s a really really big day for me in two days...” Kurt took a deep breath, “It’s my birthday! And so, I was wondering if-“
“Kurt,” Dave frowned, “I’ve already got you a birthday present. That gunk.”
Kurt’s shoulders slumped. “But-but-it’s not even good gunk, I mean, face cream. And this is a really big birthday, Dave, I’m going to be eighteen!”
Dave stopped his flexing and turned to face Kurt. “What do you want, then? I can get you more gunk. Or that weird stuff you put on your legs.”
“Hairy legs are ugly,” Kurt grumbled, “And actually, I had something really specific in mind.”
“Yeah? A special kind of gunk?”
“Actually...” Kurt backed up and grabbed a picture off his desk, “I really really want you to take me to see the singing lights?”
Dave’s face screwed up like a crumpled piece of paper and then smoothed out again. “You mean the canaries?”
“What?”
“The canaries. Big, yellow birds that sing?”
Kurt shook his head. “No, I’ve got a book on birds, and I know that none grow big enough to see from that kind of distance. Plus, I studied all their migrating habits, and no species of bird migrates just in one day. One night, even. It’s every year, on my birthday, Dave, and I just want to see them once.”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “You want to go outside?”
“Well-“
“Oh, Kurt. Look at you, breakable little thing. You can’t go outside alone, you’ll get hurt!”
Kurt sighed. “But you’d be with me...”
Dave pulled the collar of Kurt’s shirt slowly over his shoulder, exposing the nasty bruise from falling out of the rafters that morning. “You bruise like a peach,” he said, stroking the darkened skin, “Within a few hours you’d be virtually unrecognisable.”
“But-“
“Shh, Kurt. Remember, Davie knows best!”
Dave swung Kurt in a circle, the thinner boy tripping over his own hair in the process and sprawling on the floor.
“You know what’s out there, don’t you Kurt?”
“Not really,” Kurt spat dust out of his mouth and tried to get up.
“It’s a scary world out there, honey!” Dave picked him up was if he were nothing but a twig and placed him on the table.
“Ruffians and thugs,” he listed, “Poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals, snakes, the plague-“
“No, but-“
“Yes! Also large bugs, men with pointy teeth and-“
“Stop it, Dave, it’s really not funny!”
Dave pulled him roughly down from the table and Kurt almost somersaulted, landing in such a way that made his ankle twinge. Dave smirked.
“It’s alright, I understand,” he laughed, and Kurt pushed his hair out of his face helplessly as Dave spun him around.
“You wouldn’t last a minute, Kurt, just look at you! Sloppy, underdressed-“ Kurt pulled the shoulder of his shirt up again, blushing, “-immature, clumsy, please-they’ll eat you up a like a hawk eats a warbler!”
Kurt cast a nervous glance at Pavarotti.
“You don’t even have any shoes-“
“That’s because you never buy me any!” Kurt snapped, pulling away and grabbing a lock of hair from Dave’s hand.
“Kurt, don’t you dare snap at me,” Dave said, his tone changing from light and teasing to dark and sinister.
“Why won’t you let me out?” Kurt shouted, “I’m nearly eighteen, Dave! I can’t stay here forever!”
“Yes, you can!” Dave shouted back, his hands slamming into Kurt’s shoulders hard enough to make him fall.
Kurt let out a little, strangled sob as he crumpled, and Dave’s face went white.
“Look-look what you made me do! Look!” he snarled, turning on his heel and grabbing his cloak from where it was lying on the ground.
Kurt felt a tug as his hair was thrown out of the window, and then his head jerked back and he was dragged across the floor as Dave slid down it.
Helpless, Kurt grabbed onto anything he could to keep himself stationary until his shoulders lodged painfully under the windowseat, sticking there and keeping him firmly anchored to the floor, even as his neck was pulled at an odd angle against the edge of the old wood. The pressure stopped a few seconds after that, allowing Kurt to lift his head from its painful position and rub the back of his neck.
Curling his knees to his chest, he let out a strangled sob. He was stuck here. He’d tried his best, and he’d failed.
**************
A/N number 2: So, I hope you guys liked this version of Dave? I tried to make him...less mindlessly violent. Also, these chapters will get longer, I promise-it’s hard to make everything make sense and keep it long without going into too much detail, gah D:
I’m also sorry this took so long. I had exams and then my dad was in hospital twice in two months, and I was just like AJKSHKSDH I want to write but I don’t have TIEMM.
So. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I’ll see you in the next chapter!