(no subject)
(This is mostly chasingkerouac's fault. Ignore me, this is plotless, pretty much just a stream of consciousness character study for a character we haven't learned much about yet, *hides*. Also? I've realized that I haven't written fic in something like three years, so I'm probably way out of practice, gah.)
Title: Unruffled
Rating: PG
Spoilers: through 2.10 ('A Very Glee Christmas')
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1,280
Summary: Blaine is not the type to pine. He doesn't blush and stammer and yearn like a teenage girl, not at all. [character study, through 2.10]
---
Blaine is not the type to pine. He doesn't blush and stammer and yearn like a teenage girl, not at all. He went through that awkward teenage crush stage at his old school, and it only made things epically worse for him in the long run, so he's hardly fitted for a Dalton blazer before he resolves to never put himself in that position again. Dalton is his fresh start, his chance to be the person he wants to be, instead of the resident punching bag and object of scorn he'd been before he ran away -- no, before he transferred.
The person he wants to be is cool. Calm, collected. Unruffled. And he's not going to pull off 'unruffled' if he's constantly blushing and stammering, or if he can't get ahold of himself when faced with a cute boy. It takes work, of course -- confidence doesn't develop overnight, and the one thing he's learned is that the best way to keep the teasing in check is to practically ooze confidence. He practices that amused little half-smile in the mirror until he can do it in his sleep, and trains himself to keep his shoulders back, his head high, even after months of bending under the pressure until he's afraid he might break.
He's finally at the point where he thinks he has himself under control -- eventually, if you fake confidence long enough, you start to believe it, and it gets easier to let everything slide off his back. He's perfectly capable of functioning around any boy he finds attractive, finally, and that more than anything gives him a little perverse sense of glee at his own progress.
So he absolutely, positively, does NOT pine when he meets Kurt.
Kurt amuses him. He's a walking contradiction -- a sarcastic, stylish, smugly superior boy who can't quite hide the shadows of past hurts in his eyes. Blaine doesn't obsess about the color of those eyes, either -- he's more concerned with the fact that Kurt never quite looks people in the eye when he's talking to them, not unless they startle him into making eye contact. It's a sign of nerves, something he can't seem to control, even when he pulls on his thin cloak of biting humor and superiority to hide it. Blaine's barely known him for an hour before he crumbles under the strain of it, and that more than anything is what convinces Blaine to do something. He's only just met Kurt, but he'd bet anything that this is a side of him that no one at his own school ever gets to see, not if Kurt has anything to say about it.
It's not that Blaine doesn't think Kurt is attractive, either -- just because he can control himself doesn't mean he's blind, after all. He flirts with Kurt shamelessly in the senior commons, at any rate, spinning and soft-shoeing through 'Teenage Dream' with the kind of loose freedom he only allows himself when he's performing. It's kind of exhilarating, letting go long enough to see Kurt's eyes light up with surprise and pleasure, and if he shows off a little ('when you look at me'), well, that's hardly the same as making a gibbering idiot of himself in public over a complete stranger.
Blaine's outgrown that phase, anyway.
And then there's Karofsky, and Kurt needs a friend -- someone who understands, who won't judge him when things get so bad he has to leave. It's his safety at stake, after all, not just his peace of mind and his pride, and Blaine gets that better than anyone else could. He ran away, but Kurt removed himself from an unacceptable situation, and there's a difference. Kurt didn't want to leave McKinley -- he had friends there, people he cared about, and if it helps him to have a friend already at Dalton, Blaine is totally okay with that. He's not about to jeopardize his friendship with Kurt, not when he needs it just as much as Kurt does. He loves the Warblers, loves Dalton, but Kurt somehow makes him laugh and cringe and crack stupid jokes that none of his other friends would appreciate, and Blaine has missed that more than he realized.
And just because Blaine thinks it's kind of hilarious when Kurt puts on his bitch-face to deliver some caustic witticism, that doesn't mean they can't be friends. He absolutely doesn't think it's adorable or endearing -- just kind of hilarious.
Settling in is a bit tougher on Kurt than Blaine anticipated, but he has full confidence that Kurt will manage. He survived much worse at McKinley, after all, so learning how to function in a group like the Warblers shouldn't be nearly as traumatic. He just has to learn the group's style, how to work the crowd and insert his opinions without pissing off the upperclassmen. Kurt has an amazing voice, even if Evita isn't really the Warblers' style, and Blaine's sure that he'll adapt without losing that biting humor that makes him Kurt, and if he can develop a layer of polish and tact to go with that fierce intensity Blaine is learning to associate with Kurt, he's going to end up running the Warblers before he's through with them.
Dalton's not so much a cage as a safe haven, after all -- Blaine wasn't kidding about Pavarotti finding his voice again, and he wasn't kidding about Kurt, either. There were hawks out there like Karofsky, after all, and Dalton didn't so much keep Kurt in as keep his enemies out. He's a strong kid, stronger than Blaine, and Blaine admires him for it.
And really, he does have an amazing voice, so it shouldn't really be a surprise when Blaine asks him to help him rehearse for the Kings Island gig. He's got the range, and Blaine knows he's got the stage presence to give him something to work against. He's already sung to Kurt, after all, and it wasn't awkward or weird at all, and if he's going to have to sing with a girl he's never met before, he could really use the practice getting into character.
Only this time it is a little awkward, a little weird -- just for a second, a split second when they're both laughing and sitting a little too close and Blaine glances over and Kurt is smiling at him, and for just a second, he forgets that he's supposed to be playing a character. Because it's too easy, it's too comfortable, singing with Kurt, and he's starting to realize that alone might be something he should worry about.
He covers quickly, of course. This is Kurt, after all, who's become a better friend than Blaine had anticipated, and he's not about to jeopardize that. Blaine doesn't pine, he doesn't waste his time on what ifs and if onlys, not anymore. So he laughs softly, pushing himself to his feet and tossing off a casual compliment as he brushes past Kurt on the way out, nodding politely to Will Schuester as he passes and not thinking to question why Kurt's old glee teacher is wandering around Dalton unescorted.
When Blaine realizes he left his CD player behind, he doesn't bother to go back for it. It'll be there later, and he doesn't want to bother Kurt while Mr. Schuester is here. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's got a nagging feeling that he's no longer completely in control, no longer perfectly steady and composed.
He's had two years to make sure he isn't that boy anymore, and he can't go back to that -- not even for Kurt.
Title: Unruffled
Rating: PG
Spoilers: through 2.10 ('A Very Glee Christmas')
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1,280
Summary: Blaine is not the type to pine. He doesn't blush and stammer and yearn like a teenage girl, not at all. [character study, through 2.10]
---
Blaine is not the type to pine. He doesn't blush and stammer and yearn like a teenage girl, not at all. He went through that awkward teenage crush stage at his old school, and it only made things epically worse for him in the long run, so he's hardly fitted for a Dalton blazer before he resolves to never put himself in that position again. Dalton is his fresh start, his chance to be the person he wants to be, instead of the resident punching bag and object of scorn he'd been before he ran away -- no, before he transferred.
The person he wants to be is cool. Calm, collected. Unruffled. And he's not going to pull off 'unruffled' if he's constantly blushing and stammering, or if he can't get ahold of himself when faced with a cute boy. It takes work, of course -- confidence doesn't develop overnight, and the one thing he's learned is that the best way to keep the teasing in check is to practically ooze confidence. He practices that amused little half-smile in the mirror until he can do it in his sleep, and trains himself to keep his shoulders back, his head high, even after months of bending under the pressure until he's afraid he might break.
He's finally at the point where he thinks he has himself under control -- eventually, if you fake confidence long enough, you start to believe it, and it gets easier to let everything slide off his back. He's perfectly capable of functioning around any boy he finds attractive, finally, and that more than anything gives him a little perverse sense of glee at his own progress.
So he absolutely, positively, does NOT pine when he meets Kurt.
Kurt amuses him. He's a walking contradiction -- a sarcastic, stylish, smugly superior boy who can't quite hide the shadows of past hurts in his eyes. Blaine doesn't obsess about the color of those eyes, either -- he's more concerned with the fact that Kurt never quite looks people in the eye when he's talking to them, not unless they startle him into making eye contact. It's a sign of nerves, something he can't seem to control, even when he pulls on his thin cloak of biting humor and superiority to hide it. Blaine's barely known him for an hour before he crumbles under the strain of it, and that more than anything is what convinces Blaine to do something. He's only just met Kurt, but he'd bet anything that this is a side of him that no one at his own school ever gets to see, not if Kurt has anything to say about it.
It's not that Blaine doesn't think Kurt is attractive, either -- just because he can control himself doesn't mean he's blind, after all. He flirts with Kurt shamelessly in the senior commons, at any rate, spinning and soft-shoeing through 'Teenage Dream' with the kind of loose freedom he only allows himself when he's performing. It's kind of exhilarating, letting go long enough to see Kurt's eyes light up with surprise and pleasure, and if he shows off a little ('when you look at me'), well, that's hardly the same as making a gibbering idiot of himself in public over a complete stranger.
Blaine's outgrown that phase, anyway.
And then there's Karofsky, and Kurt needs a friend -- someone who understands, who won't judge him when things get so bad he has to leave. It's his safety at stake, after all, not just his peace of mind and his pride, and Blaine gets that better than anyone else could. He ran away, but Kurt removed himself from an unacceptable situation, and there's a difference. Kurt didn't want to leave McKinley -- he had friends there, people he cared about, and if it helps him to have a friend already at Dalton, Blaine is totally okay with that. He's not about to jeopardize his friendship with Kurt, not when he needs it just as much as Kurt does. He loves the Warblers, loves Dalton, but Kurt somehow makes him laugh and cringe and crack stupid jokes that none of his other friends would appreciate, and Blaine has missed that more than he realized.
And just because Blaine thinks it's kind of hilarious when Kurt puts on his bitch-face to deliver some caustic witticism, that doesn't mean they can't be friends. He absolutely doesn't think it's adorable or endearing -- just kind of hilarious.
Settling in is a bit tougher on Kurt than Blaine anticipated, but he has full confidence that Kurt will manage. He survived much worse at McKinley, after all, so learning how to function in a group like the Warblers shouldn't be nearly as traumatic. He just has to learn the group's style, how to work the crowd and insert his opinions without pissing off the upperclassmen. Kurt has an amazing voice, even if Evita isn't really the Warblers' style, and Blaine's sure that he'll adapt without losing that biting humor that makes him Kurt, and if he can develop a layer of polish and tact to go with that fierce intensity Blaine is learning to associate with Kurt, he's going to end up running the Warblers before he's through with them.
Dalton's not so much a cage as a safe haven, after all -- Blaine wasn't kidding about Pavarotti finding his voice again, and he wasn't kidding about Kurt, either. There were hawks out there like Karofsky, after all, and Dalton didn't so much keep Kurt in as keep his enemies out. He's a strong kid, stronger than Blaine, and Blaine admires him for it.
And really, he does have an amazing voice, so it shouldn't really be a surprise when Blaine asks him to help him rehearse for the Kings Island gig. He's got the range, and Blaine knows he's got the stage presence to give him something to work against. He's already sung to Kurt, after all, and it wasn't awkward or weird at all, and if he's going to have to sing with a girl he's never met before, he could really use the practice getting into character.
Only this time it is a little awkward, a little weird -- just for a second, a split second when they're both laughing and sitting a little too close and Blaine glances over and Kurt is smiling at him, and for just a second, he forgets that he's supposed to be playing a character. Because it's too easy, it's too comfortable, singing with Kurt, and he's starting to realize that alone might be something he should worry about.
He covers quickly, of course. This is Kurt, after all, who's become a better friend than Blaine had anticipated, and he's not about to jeopardize that. Blaine doesn't pine, he doesn't waste his time on what ifs and if onlys, not anymore. So he laughs softly, pushing himself to his feet and tossing off a casual compliment as he brushes past Kurt on the way out, nodding politely to Will Schuester as he passes and not thinking to question why Kurt's old glee teacher is wandering around Dalton unescorted.
When Blaine realizes he left his CD player behind, he doesn't bother to go back for it. It'll be there later, and he doesn't want to bother Kurt while Mr. Schuester is here. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's got a nagging feeling that he's no longer completely in control, no longer perfectly steady and composed.
He's had two years to make sure he isn't that boy anymore, and he can't go back to that -- not even for Kurt.