How Hard You're Trying (fic)
Title: How Hard You're Trying
Main Character: Kurt Hummel (as part of Kurt/Blaine)
Spoilers: 3.20 and 3.21 ("Props" and "Nationals")
Rating: PG-13 for implied sexytimes
Length: ~5,000 words
Summary: Every year, the seniors at McKinley High School vote for Teacher of the Year. Rachel and Finn are campaigning for Mr. Schuester, but Kurt wants to make up his own mind.
Author's Notes: In just before the deadline: an episode reaction to "Props" and "Nationals." This is very different from anything I've written before. Needless to say, the opinions of characters in this story are not necessarily my own, and most of the characters are definitely not my own - they belong to Glee and various corporate powers that be.
Thanks to lavender_love00 for encouraging me and reading through parts of this, to punkkitten2113 for reading through all of it, and to insatiablyyours and sin_fuego for help with Señor Martinez's Spanish. Any errors are mine. Or maybe Kurt's.
Title from Patty Griffin's "Nobody's Crying," which is not at all related to the themes of this story, and yet kind of is.
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How Hard You're Trying
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"Who would you vote for, if you could vote?"
Kurt and Blaine stand outside the cafeteria on Monday, studying the sample ballot posted on the wall beneath the large, hand-lettered sign: Seniors, Vote for Staff Superlatives This Week!
"I don't know." Blaine shrugs. "I mean, I don't think I'll ever be qualified to vote for some of these." He runs his index finger over the categories of Favorite Detention Monitor and Favorite Juvie Officer.
"Well, the juvie officers aren't even school staff, technically speaking."
"They're around enough, though."
"Anyway, I was more concerned about Teacher of the Year. I'm not really sure who to write in."
Blaine turns his face toward Kurt. "You're not going to vote for Mr. Schue?"
Kurt tries not to roll his eyes. "Would you?"
Blaine tilts his head, no doubt pooling the thoughts together in his brain. "No. I mean, I like him, but … he's a little disorganized. I think I'd vote for Coach Beiste. I really liked working with her on West Side Story."
"That's just because she cried every time you sang," Kurt teases. Blaine blushes, his mouth quirking up into a smile that's seductive in its innocence. Kurt wants to press a kiss to the corner of that smile, but instead puts a hand on the small of Blaine's back and rubs it lightly before pulling away.
"Only a little," Blaine says, which is more than he ever would have admitted a year ago. "But mostly I just like her because she's … her, you know? I mean, people try to shoehorn her, but she doesn't let them." Blaine glances down at Kurt's chest and runs his thumb over the lapel of Kurt's jacket, as if it's out of place and needs to be laid flat, even though Kurt just adjusted it in front of the mirror two minutes ago. "Like someone else I know."
Kurt sighs. It's true, about Beiste not being easily shoe-horned. Kurt had shoehorned her into the category of "ally" and "person who would understand" long ago, because she, like him, was an obvious gender outlaw, by dint of genetics as much as choice.
But she had wriggled herself right out of that ally category during the West Side Story auditions, when she called Kurt "too much of a lady" to play Tony.
Kurt never told Blaine about that - for the most part, worried that Blaine would reject his own casting as Tony on principle. And once Kurt got over his own feelings of rejection and rage, he started to feel sorry for Beiste, wondered if her hang-ups about him were really hang-ups about herself. Began to hope that one day, she'd overcome all of it.
Kurt's not going to mention it now, either. Blaine has had a hard enough time finding his place at McKinley, and he doesn't want to alienate him from one of the few teachers he respects. So he changes the subject.
"Ms. Pillsbury's pretty good," Kurt says, and Blaine leans in closer to Kurt at that, touching shoulders. He gives Kurt another of his soft-eyed looks that makes Kurt want to kiss him.
"Yeah."
Kurt sighs. "But she's not a teacher." He shrugs. "Well, it's not like I have to decide today. I've got until Friday."
Blaine smiles. "Come on, let's go have lunch. I brought you something special."
Kurt raises his eyebrows as he follows Blaine into the cafeteria. "Besides yourself?"
Blaine doesn't answer, just leads him to the round table where most of the New Directions usually gather. They brought their lunches today, so they're the first to sit down. Blaine sets his bag on the floor and pulls out a bento box and thermos.
"Nori rolls," Blaine says as he lifts the lid off the box, "and a mocha from the Lima Bean." He pushes the thermos toward Kurt, who gasps in delight.
"You didn't."
Blaine blushes. "I did. On my way to school today. I just thought, with all the stupid stuff going on in Glee, you deserved a pick-me-up."
Kurt feels his whole chest warm. He thinks about taking his jacket off, but he doesn't. He considers grabbing Blaine and kissing him senseless, but he doesn't do that, either. Instead, he says, "I love you."
He wraps his hand around the thermos, his hand brushing against Blaine's. Just a tiny touch, compared to all the other touches they've had, but it still makes Kurt's heart go kathunk in his chest.
"Actually," says Blaine, "you always deserve a pick-me-up."
---
"I don't understand," Blaine says as they leave glee practice on Wednesday, self-consciously readjusting his cardigan to cover the hole in his polo shirt where a stray spark landed during their Flashdance routine. "Didn't Coach Sylvester see you with that grinder? You're the manliest guy I know."
They're walking across the school lawn toward Kurt's car, and Kurt is twirling the key ring in his fingers, fidgety fidgety fidgety, ready to flee.
"That's nice of you to say, Blaine, but that's apparently not how most people see it." He picks up his pace and Blaine shuffles to keep up. Kurt's ready to drive away from McKinley, away from Lima - just away.
Blaine touches Kurt's elbow. It's barely a touch, really, more the brushing of fingers over cloth, but it's enough to jolt Kurt into the present. He stops and turns to face Blaine.
"Most people have blinders on," Blaine says. His eyes are so sincere, and Kurt loves it and hates it when Blaine looks at him like this, because it breaks his heart open, making him feel scared and wonderful at the same time.
Kurt looks down at Blaine's feet.
"Kurt, look at me." Blaine puts his hand on Kurt's shoulder - solid, there.
Kurt does.
"Finn, Puck, Sam, me - Mr. Schue, even, I think - we all want to be men. We want to be grown up. We want to be fearless. We want be confident, and to be ourselves, and not to care so much what people think." Blaine lowers his hand to hold on to Kurt's. "But we're all scared little boys compared to you."
Kurt blinks, forces himself not to look away from Blaine's eyes.
"I know you think I'm biased because I'm in love with you, Kurt, but I'm in love with you because you're - you're strong and fierce and courageous. You're not afraid to stand up for yourself, or for other people. You don't let other people tell you who you should be, or what you should do with your life. And you're so - I feel so brave around you, Kurt. You make me feel safe."
"Blaine -" Kurt feels like he should stop this onslaught of praise, but he doesn't have the words.
"And also," Blaine adds, eyes flitting down to Kurt's lips, "I'm one-hundred percent gay, and I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'm pretty sure that makes you masculine by definition. I mean, I could start listing all the masculine things about you that turn me on, but I'm not sure that here is the appropriate place."
"Blaine." Kurt wants to sweep Blaine up into his arms, dip him down low the way he does when they're dancing, kiss and kiss and kiss him until their lips are chapped and sore.
But there are students milling about in the parking lot. Kurt's not ashamed of what he and Blaine have, but he doesn't want to share it with people who might not understand. He doesn't want their love tarnished by other people's reactions.
So he squeezes Blaine's hand and leads him the rest of the way to the car.
He'll kiss Blaine the way he deserves to be kissed soon, when they're in his room, in the sacred space of alone.
----
It's almost seven, and they should probably have dinner, but Finn's over at Rachel's and Sam is at the mall with Rory and Carol is at work, which means that they have the house to themselves, and can make as much noise as they want, and so they did, for the hour after they got here, and then they fell asleep, and now they're awake again, and even though they're not doing any noise-making activity, it's hard for Kurt to pull away from Blaine's naked body.
"You know," Kurt says, nuzzling his face into Blaine's shoulder. "A year ago, I probably would have voted for Coach Sylvester. For Teacher of the Year, I mean."
"Really?" Blaine says. "But she's so … awful."
"Yeah, I know. But she was the only faculty who really knew what to do when David was bullying me."
Blaine rubs his thumb over Kurt's elbow.
"And anyway, even though she's rude and horrible and still hasn't learned my name after three years, she trusted me enough to lead the Cheerios to the national title. I can't imagine Mr. Schuester ever doing that. For all his talk about how great it is to be different, he doesn't know what to do with my voice."
Blaine sighs. "You deserve so much better, Kurt. You're the only one of us that has a three-octave vocal range."
Kurt kisses Blaine's collarbone. "I had a lot of hope when I first joined Glee Club. There were only five of us, and only two of us were boys, and I - I'm glad that the other guys are in it, too, but it's just like Mr. Schue fell in love with Finn and that was that. Well, not in love - but you know what I mean."
"I think he sees himself in Finn."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, really. It's just a feeling I have. Like, they both try to be leaders, but they're not always good at leading, and they both try to be nice, but a lot of times they're really not. And they both seem a little, well … befuddled a lot of the time."
"Befuddled," Kurt says. "I like that word."
They're silent for a minute. Kurt gazes at the five o'clock shadow growing on Blaine's jaw, pretty like velvet but nowhere near as smooth.
"I think," Kurt says, "what frustrates me most about Mr. Schue is that he seems to make progress, and then he slips back to where he was before. Like, when Mercedes and I joined the Cheerios that first year because we weren't getting any solos, he started giving us solos in rehearsal and said he'd give everyone a fair shake at them for regionals, but - well, you know how that story ended. We switch it up a little in Sectionals every year and then we're back to the Rachel and Finn show."
"I wish you could be here next year," Blaine says. "So you could have one year when it wasn't."
"And not just so you could keep me around?"
"Well, maybe that, too." Blaine turns his head to kiss Kurt and the movement stirs up the sweet smells of Blaine, sandalwood and cinnamon and skin.
"You know," Kurt says after he pulls away from the kiss. "When I was at Dalton, he asked about you."
Blaine jerks his head back in surprise. "Wait. Really?"
"Yeah. The first time he met you - when he came to visit me at campus and he found me with you in the commons. We'd just been singing 'Baby It's Cold Outside.'"
"I remember," Blaine says.
"Well, after you left the room, he asked if you were someone special, and I was so excited - I couldn't believe that he'd asked about my love life because usually he just seemed freaked out by me in general, but especially by my being girly and gay -"
"You're not girly."
"Yeah, I know, but I mean, that's how he thinks of me - except when it's our annual girls-against-boys mash-off. Anyway. I was just beside myself. I thought he was going to end up treating me like everyone else in the Glee Club, the way Coach Sylvester did with the Cheerios - except that Coach Sylvester is equally mean to everyone and I figured Mr. Schue was going to be equally nice, but - well, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do."
"But he doesn't. Treat us equally, I mean. I think he thinks he does, but - he doesn't."
"No, he doesn't."
"We're a family, but we're not all equal."
---
Rachel takes up so much space at the lunch table on Thursday with her spreadsheets that Blaine, who is sitting next to her, can't even fit his tray in front of him. He's moved all of his food on top of Kurt's, setting the empty tray at the center of the table, and he's eating with his left hand (the one closest to Kurt) because his right hand can barely reach the tray, and Kurt is feeling slightly resentful because all this maneuvering is preventing Kurt from surreptitiously holding his boyfriend's hand under the table.
"Okay," says Rachel with a big, dramatic (because it wouldn't be Rachel if it weren't dramatic) gust of breath. "Thanks to my newfound popularity as reigning Prom Queen, I've been able to use my superior sense of discernment to influence the student body in a positive direction."
Kurt raises one eyebrow. "Oh, really?"
"Yes." Rachel's tone is chirpy and decisive. "Finn's and my quiet campaign for Mr. Schuester as Teacher of the Year is having its effect. Jacob Ben Israel's exit polls show that he's in the lead." She points to the spreadsheets in front of her.
"I'm not exactly sure I would call your campaign 'quiet,'" Kurt says. Every lunch period this week has been interrupted by Rachel and Finn performing her original compositions singing Mr. Schue's praises (Kurt has to admit that her lyrics have come a long way in the past year, but he still gets a little queasy about the message every time she belts out, "Teacher, you've taught me so much/You've helped me see/That I can never do anything wrong/When I am me.")
And Finn is taking on the campaign with way too much enthusiasm. Kurt has yet to find a urinal or toilet in any of the boys' bathrooms that doesn't have a "Vote for Mr. Schue, He Knows What's Good for You" flyer posted right above it. It's pretty disconcerting to have Mr. Schue's eyes on you every time you pee.
Rachel reaches across Blaine to put her hand on the back of Kurt's. "Kurt, I know you're nervous because the best candidate doesn't always win." Rachel's right, of course. What he can't tell her is that, in his mind, the wrong candidate is Mr. Schue.
But Kurt doesn't say that. It's not the time. And anyway, Rachel's eyes go doe-like, and it's clear she's not thinking about the Schue campaign anymore. "The student body didn't exactly display good judgment in the presidential election last fall," she says. "I still wish I'd done more to support you. You would have made a great president, Kurt Hummel."
Kurt turns his hand over in hers to give hers a light squeeze. This is why he loves her. When she decides to think about someone other than herself, she really is a wonderful friend.
----
It's not that Kurt isn't grateful for Mr. Schue. When Sandy Ryerson was in charge of Glee Club, there was no way that Kurt would have ever joined it. Being alone with Sandy Ryerson was much more dangerous than being tossed into the dumpster by the football team.
Mr. Schue has made Glee Club a safe space in that way, but it's still dangerous in other ways.
Mr. Schue's been listening for a week to Dragon Lady calling Kurt "he/she" and trying to get him into a flapper dress (one which might look nice if split down the center and altered into a vest to be paired with a form-fitting henley and tight jeans - but that's beside the point) without a peep in his defense. Not that Kurt can't stand up to Coach Sylvester on his own, but he shouldn't have to. Most kids can't.
Kurt wonders, too, if Mr. Schue doesn't start half the wars that go on within Glee Club. Not intentionally, of course. But being the band of outcasts that they are, they each crave approval, and Mr. Schue gives it more freely to some than to others. Mercedes might have been being a little selfish when she joined the Cheerios or The Troubletones, but mostly, she was trying to find a place in this world where she would be heard.
And that's just Glee Club. It doesn't include Mr. Schue's actual classes. As nice as Mr. Schue can be at times, it's hard to see how someone who spent years teaching his students bad Spanish really has their best interests at heart.
Kurt cares about Mr. Schue. He even loves Mr. Schue, in a way. But Kurt has a tendency to love people in spite of and because of their flaws. Just because you care about someone doesn't mean that they're always what you need.
---
On Friday, Kurt can put voting off no longer. He walks up to the student government table outside the cafeteria and requests his ballot sheet from Brittany, who hands it to him with a smile.
"Vote Mr. Schuester for everything," she says. Apparently the student government has no rules against poll workers campaigning for their favorite candidates.
Thanks to Rachel's stuffing of the ballot boxes this past fall, there are no private voting booths. He sits down in an empty chair at the end of the student government table and begins to fill out his form, glancing up frequently to make sure that Finn and Rachel don't pop out of nowhere to peer over his shoulder.
He skips Juvie Officer of the Year and Detention Monitor of the Year.
Guidance Counselor of the Year is an easy one. Ms. Pillsbury is the only guidance counselor who has encouraged his interest in performing and, honestly, he's a little afraid of where his relationship with Blaine would be right now if it weren't for her.
Plus, she thinks Kurt's manly and has the soul of a poet, and while he wouldn't vote for her on only those counts, they certainly don't go against her.
He votes for Holly Holiday as Substitute of the Year even though he's never had her for one of his own classes and he's not even sure she's been around this year at all. But he can't even remember any of the names of the substitutes he had this year other than Señor Martinez, who became permanent, and he always remembers - mostly because he was quite impressed by the story of her teaching sex ed with the help of a cucumber and a condom, and because Artie said she helped Santana to come out. So Kurt writes her in, anyway.
He skips Athletic Coach of the Year because the only one he's worked with in that capacity is Dragon Lady, and he's incapable of saying anything good about her after a week of being called "he/she."
For Custodian of the Year, he writes in Mrs. Markum, who taught Kurt how to get red slushie stains out of rayon his freshman year and who, the one time she walked in on him making out with Blaine in the cleaning supplies closet, calmly said, "I know you guys don't have anywhere else to kiss in this school, but I've got a chalk explosion to clean up in the chemistry room. When I'm back in two minutes, you'll be gone," then closed the door and walked away.
For Cafeteria Worker of the Year, he puts down Birdie - he still doesn't know if it's her first name, last name or nickname, or if "Birdie" is even how it's spelled - because she lets him get extra carrots instead of fries with his lunch for no additional charge.
The only blank left is Teacher of the Year. He's had an idea for this one in the back of his head since February, when he got his first-ever C at McKinley High.
He'd walked up to Señor Martinez after class, holding the red-marked composition in his hand, trying his best to sound reasonable instead of outraged.
"Señor Martinez, I don't understand. I had an A average in Mr. Schuester's class."
"Sí, yo sé," [i] answered Señor Martinez with a flash of his blindingly white teeth. Kurt couldn't decide if they were sexy or threatening. There was something Big Bad Wolf-ish about them.
"So, I'm not sure what I've done differently here."
"¿Por qué me estás hablando en inglés?" [ii] The look on Señor Martinez's face was friendly, but Kurt couldn't stop looking at the incisors revealed by his smile. He'd never noticed before how sharp they were.
Kurt coughed. Mr. Schuester had never expected his students to speak to him in Spanish after the bell rang. He looked away from Señor Martinez's incisors and translated the thing he wanted to say in his head. "Porque no estoy acostumbrado hablar el español," [iii] he finally said, tentatively.
"Aquí, siempre hablamos español. ¿Estamos de acuerdo?" [iv]
"Sí, de acuerdo." [v]
"No te preocupes. Pero debes volver a escribir la composición con las correcciones si quieres mejorar. Siempre estoy aquí para ayudarte, si quieres ayuda. ¿Tienes algunas preguntas?" [vi] Maybe Señor Martinez's incisors weren't so sharp, after all.
"No, señor. Pero … ¿mañana? Después de … de la clase última? ¿Reunimos?" [vii]
For the next month, Kurt was in Señor Martinez's classroom for a half hour before or after school most days of the week. He learned that he'd been accidentally conjugating his verbs as if they were French a quarter of the time, that "el desque" isn't the Spanish word for desk, and that he was capable of speaking entire paragraphs in (flawed, but comprehensible) Spanish if he didn't let himself get too nervous about making a mistake.
Señor Martinez corrected him less and less, and Kurt's grade improved, and when the occasional Spanish-speaking customer came into his father's shop, Kurt would talk to them to find out what needed fixing, and they would teach him the names of any car parts that they knew.
He ended up writing lots of essays about auto repair.
Kurt was so immersed in improving his Spanish that he started to forget that Señor Martinez was incredibly hot. He stopped making extra visits to his locker to touch up his hairspray before every visit to the Spanish classroom, and when he preened under Señor Martinez's praise, it was mostly because señor was a native speaker of Spanish and knew what he was talking about, and hardly at all because the apples of his cheeks looked biteable when he smiled.
And there was something else about Señor Martinez, in addition to being Kurt's first teacher at McKinley to consistently hold him to high academic standards.
It became apparent in the second week of their tutoring, when they were going over the parts of the face, and Señor Martinez asked about Blaine: "¿Cómo está tu novio? ¿Qué tal su ojo?" [viii]
For all Mr. Schue's talk about diversity, he had never called Blaine Kurt's novio, [ix] only his amigo, [x] even though he'd started referring to Shane Tinsley as Mercedes' novio as soon as they started going out. And even though everyone in the school knew about Blaine's eye, Señor Martinez was the first teacher to ask Kurt about him. When Blaine had been out for two weeks, the closest Mr. Schue came was pursing his lips and blinking slowly in that I should probably say something, but I'm not really sure what to do with you look, followed by, "How are you, Kurt?"
When Señor Martinez called Blaine Kurt's novio, Kurt went from kind of hoping that señor was gay to kind of hoping that he was straight. The world needs more straight teachers like that.
Kurt looks over his shoulder once more to make sure none of the New Directions are around and writes "Señor Martinez" in the blank next to Teacher of the Year. He folds his ballot and places it the box on top of the student government table.
Brittany leans forward and whispers to Kurt conspiratorially. "Mr. Schue is gonna totally win Teacher of the Year. I have a good feeling about this." She bites her bottom lip and lifts crossed fingers at him.
Kurt just nods. "See you at Glee Club, Brittany."
---
Chicago is huge and beautiful, but Kurt's seen Lake Michigan before, and he'll see skyscrapers again in the fall.
So he doesn't sneak out of the hotel room like he did last year at Nationals to gape at the city and its people, at the women in mink and the men in $4,000 suits.
He stays inside the hotel with the rest of the Glee Club, because that's one thing he won't have for much longer. He takes a break from them only long enough to shut himself in the bathroom with Blaine for their rigorous nighttime skin-sloughing regimen (and, okay, maybe a few minutes of something else rigorous, since the other guys have Super 8 on at top volume and won't be able to hear a thing).
The girls crash into the room at 10:30, all except Mercedes, who they report is sound asleep thanks to Coach Sylvester's drug-and-vitamin regimen. Someone gets the brilliant idea to shove the beds together, and after a frightening moment in which Blaine and Puck lift the solid wood nightstand above their heads (it's absolutely not the way to carry furniture, and makes Kurt so nervous he doesn't even notice the sweat breaking out on Blaine's brow and the way that the muscles of his forearm ripple and clench), the suggestion comes to fruition, and all of New Directions minus one is piled onto the combined mattresses.
To see them all now, you never would have known that they had spent half the day fighting with each other. It's all cuddles and sweet words and sentimental stories now, the insecurities of the day washed away.
No one looks and no one avoids looking when Blaine leans his back against the headboard and pulls Kurt in next to him. Artie, who is sitting next to them, smiles when Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt's forehead, but that's the most attention they get. Puck doesn't tell them to get a room (although he does say that to Rachel and Finn at one point), and Finn doesn't look away like he used to when Kurt and Blaine first started dating and would kiss each other a chaste goodnight in the doorway of the Hummel-Hudson home.
Kurt remembers what Blaine said, about the guys in New Directions wanting to grow into men. Blaine's right - they're not quite there yet. But they're getting there -becoming less frightened of the world, less worried about what other people think, becoming unafraid of loving and of receiving love back.
For a million different reasons, those were things that Mr. Schue couldn't teach Kurt, but he helped Finn learn them, and he helped Puck learn them - or at least he created the space where they could learn those things for themselves and try to teach them to each other, where Finn could learn to be a friend and brother to the eccentric queer kid, and the eccentric queer kid could learn to love the bumbling imperfection of humanity.
So when Finn says he wants to win Nationals for Mr. Schue, Kurt nods, even though it's not exactly the reason Kurt wants to win Nationals. He wants to win it for Finn, and for Rachel, and for Puck, and for Blaine. A year ago, he wanted to win it for himself, but he doesn't need it anymore.
Ever since his NYADA audition, he knows he's worth it. He doesn't need to hear it from anyone else.
----
Finn addresses Mr. Schue in the pep circle before they go on stage in Chicago. "Remember, you told us once that, you know, a teacher's job is done once his students don't need him anymore,"
Kurt has thought for a while that he doesn't need Mr. Schue anymore. He doesn't need Schue to give him an opportunity to sing (which is a good thing, since he hardly gives him those opportunities, anyway). He doesn't need Schue to stand up for him (and that's good, too, because he was never really good at it, even when he tried). He doesn't need Schue's unconditional acceptance, and he doesn't need Schue to push him to be better (he gets those things from himself, and his dad, and Blaine, and Señor Martinez).
But there's a new thing Kurt doesn’t need from Mr. Schue anymore, and that's for Mr. Schue to be who Kurt wanted him to be.
Mr. Schue is the exact teacher that Finn needed, and Rachel needed, and Puck needed. And he's close to the exactly right thing for Mike and Rory and Sam, and maybe Quinn.
Today, that's enough.
----
Mr. Schue goes down the line of students as they sing to him at the teacher awards ceremony, giving the girls emotional but appropriately short hugs and doing the same with most of the boys, except when Finn nearly lifts him off the ground with the force of his embrace. His face is on the ledge between a smile and tears the rest of the line down until he gets to Kurt, when it shifts into something harder to pinpoint. Kurt reads it as remorse.
Before New Directions, Kurt didn't even bother being disappointed in people; there wasn't any reason to be when he expected nothing good of them in the first place. But New Directions changed that. For all the ways in which Mr. Schue has failed, he created a place in the school that Kurt could call home, a family of people that could disappoint him only because he loved them.
So Kurt hugs him hard - not dramatically the way Finn did, but firmly and confidently and reassuringly, hoping that the touch will convey all the forgiveness and gratitude he wants to give.
It wouldn't come across the right way if Kurt took this chance to whisper "You're just what they needed" or "Your incompetence isn't all of you" or "I forgive you" or "I love you" into his ear, so he doesn't.
The band is so loud that there's no way Mr. Schue would hear anything he said, anyway.
Still, when Mr. Schue wraps both hands around Kurt's back and squeezes like his life depends on it, Kurt whispers, "We're okay."
----Fin----
Translations:
[i] "Yeah, I know."
[ii] "Why are you speaking to me in English?"
[iii] "I'm not used to speaking Spanish." (said with imperfect grammar)
[iv] "We always speak Spanish here. Do you understand?"
[v] "Yes, I understand."
[vi] "Don't worry about it. But you should rewrite the essay with the corrections if you want to improve. I'm always here to help, if you need help. Do you have any questions?"
[vii] "No, sir. But … tomorrow? After … after the last class? We meet?"
[viii] "How's your boyfriend? How's his eye?" (It doesn't sound this awkward in Spanish. Really.)
[ix] "steady boyfriend"
[x] "friend" or "casual boyfriend"
------------
Comments are love. I am unspoiled for future episodes as of this minute, so please don't mention spoilers or speculation. Thanks!
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