fic - How Kurt Gets His Groove Back (1/1)
Media: Fic
Title: How Kurt Gets His Groove Back
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to A Very Glee Christmas
Word Count: 1,703
Summary: Kurt gets his groove back and brings Blaine along for the ride.
A.N. Not the best thing I've ever written (I need to work on condensing and cohesiveness. lol), but this plot bunny begged to be written. Anyway, it's more Kurt-centric, but we still have some of our favorite Blaine. :D
How Kurt Gets His Groove Back
Contrary to popular belief, Kurt actually likes the Dalton uniforms.
He likes the idea of wearing the same thing every day, that extra half hour of sleep he can get by not having to meticulously organize his outfit. There is something poetic in how the sea of blue blazers idles at a slow pace down the hallway, pouring into classroom doors and sweeping into the cafeteria. (Well, maybe "pouring" and "sweeping" are a bit of a stretch, but he only sings lyrics, he doesn't write them.) All in all though, the uniforms aren't too bad.
At least, that's how he feels for the first week.
After that, he starts to miss the individuality he prided himself on. He misses the scandalized looks from Quinn, the befuddled sighs from fashionally-challenged Rachel, the friendly roll of Mercedes' eyes. His scarf collection is literally gathering dust and that's just simply a sin in Vogue-world. (He cleans them outside because Pavarotti squeaks with disgust when there's too much dust in the air.) He polishes his designer shoes out of habit, not because they're actually scuffed. After all, how can they be scratched when they are safe under the confinements of his bed?
He doesn't say a word to anyone at Dalton, not wanting anyone (Blaine) to worry that he's not happy. Because he is happy (He's safe here, and for right now, safety is synonymous with happy.). He would just be happier if he could wear a bow-tie and skinny jeans.
But it only takes a few days of complaining over Skype to Mercedes for his roommate Clark to look up from his homework with a sigh and an understanding glance. Kurt doesn't even notice until Clark is directly behind him and smiling casually at Mercedes.
"Mercedes, hi," he directs into the webcam with a little wave of his hand. "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to talk to Kurt for a moment," he explains as he shuts the laptop cover before Mercedes can even say good-bye to Kurt.
Clark then settles himself down on the edge of his bed and looks at Kurt in such a meaningful manner that Kurt immediately has a flashback to when his father tried to explain to him the birds and the bees (That was before Kurt had come out of the closet, so it had been an even more mortifying conversation about what he would have to do to a girl to make her pregnant. Gross.).
With a fond smile and a sort of nostalgic look in his blue eyes, Clark explains how everyone faces that same feeling of conformity when they start at Dalton.
"The joy," he states with a growing grin, "is finding out how to break the rules just enough."
Clark then regales an intrigued Kurt with stories about how each boy finds some small way to break out of the mold and to make themselves individuals in that sea of blue (See, even Clark said "sea" so there must be some truth to that metaphor.).
One freshman that Kurt recognizes by name only apparently has the largest crazy sock collection in the state and none of them can be seen by the teachers under the heavy fabric of his slacks.
Clark's best friend, another sophomore, wears belt buckles that double as bottle openers or have Batman insignias or are covered in rhinestones.
And then, of course, there's the legend of Firecrotch. Kurt had heard stories of the daring rogue Blaine had told him with a sort of dreamy look in his eye that made Kurt sure Blaine had completely crushed on him before he graduated two years prior (Yes, he's a little jealous, but moony-eyed Blaine is just too adorable.). Apparently, Firecrotch, a natural brunette, dyed his pubic hair a brilliant shade of vermillion despite school policy that no hair should be dyed an unnatural color.
Well, that explains the nickname, if nothing else.
"What about you?" Kurt asks curiously as he smiles through Clark's stories.
Clark's grin grows playfully vicious and suddenly he's standing up from the bed and dropping trough.
Kurt actually lets out a yelp (And it was definitely a yelp, not a scream or an undignified squeal.) before realizing that Clark's just showing him his outrageously printed satin boxers with neon green and pink naked ladies.
Well. That's… interesting.
And just like that, Kurt starts to notice the little differences in his fellow students' attire. Wes, he realizes, wears Swatches instead of a standard wristwatch. David is guilty of affixing indie-band pins on the inside of his laptop case.
Kurt's still not quite sure about Blaine, but he figures it might be something he can't actually see. Like Firecrotch or Clark's boxers. It's awkward to ask, "so hey, what's under your pants?" but that doesn't completely stop him from wondering all the same.
All the time he's not wondering what's going in Blaine's pants (which is really starting to take up a lot of his time, actually, what with all heart-melting smiles Blaine's been giving him lately) he spends deciding what he wants for himself to stand out.
And then, to quote one of his all-time favorite movies, it hits him like a big yellow school bus.
Brooches.
The only reason he gets a B on that philosophy quiz instead of an A is because he spent an hour the previous night scouring through his rule book, looking for any sort of Dalton degree that says he cannot wear brooches. The only mandate that comes even close to what he is looking for is the statement that no pins can be larger than three inches in diameter.
So basically, Kurt has three inches of absolute freedom to wear proudly. It's not an entire outfit, but it's a step in the right direction.
Within a week, he amasses quite the collection of brooches. Immediately after his decision to bedazzle himself in that manner, he called home to Carol who laughed and approved of his idea and asked her to send him his mother's old brooches. Carol obliged and even sent a few of her own to help his individuality cause.
That next day after receiving the care package in the mail, he wears with pride his mother's cameo pin on his lapel.
"Nice look," Blaine whispers to him that day at lunch, causing Kurt's neck to heat up with a blush.
"Thanks," he returns, his eyes finding his meal suddenly very interesting. "The rest are decorating Pavarotti's house. He's getting used to that cage now."
"It was never meant as a cage," Blaine explains, carrying on the extended metaphor despite David and Wes's rolling eyes across from them.
Kurt averts his gaze from his meal and meets Blaine's deep hazel eyes. Warmth washes over him as he takes in the sight of Blaine's protocol-controlled hair and clean lines of his uniform.
"I know."
It's the weekend before Christmas break and Kurt has two reasons to go shopping: One, he needs to buy some last-minute Christmas gifts; two, shopping clears his head and he does so surely need it after the whole "Baby, It's Cold Outside" sha-bang from a few day's past.
Plus, (this barely counts as a reason anymore, now that he's known fondly as the Brooch-Boy) this is a chance for him to wear his own clothes instead of his Dalton uniform when he goes out to town.
He does leave the Dalton blazer on, though. He's always admired how he looks in blue, and there's something prideful to be said about how the store clerks treat him with an ounce more respect when they spy the prestigious logo. Kurt's always been vain and this is no exception.
So with his favorite mustache shirt on beneath his blazer and a fabulous zebra brooch (courtesy of Mercedes who sent it to him immediately upon seeing the flamingo pin he had received from Carol) secured jauntily on his chest, he heads to town to gather his gifts.
An hour later, he's fairly certain he's bought something for everyone. Minus Blaine, of course. He had been planning on buying Blaine some tea from that Teavana store Blaine had mentioned a few times. But after that saucy song of theirs? Even if it had just been practice, Kurt knows something lingers between them.
So with a few too many bags in his arms, he walks aimlessly up and down the street of stores, mildly disapproving of himself because normally when he shops, it's never this disorganized or unplanned.
Just when he's sure that he's walked a dent into the nearly frozen sidewalk beneath him, he spots it. There, right there, in the window front of a store he had passed over several times because really, who, other than pre-teen girls, shops at Claire's anymore? Seriously.
But his grin is reaching 100-watt status as he spots The Perfect Gift and he nearly barrels over one of those pre-teen girls he had moments ago scoffed at in his hurry to enter the glittery store.
Oops. Well, these things happen. All's fair in love and war, after all.
They're sitting in the same study where they had sung together when Kurt gives Blaine the gift (Atmosphere is everything, after all.). He watches eagerly, nearly toppling out of his chair when Blaine digs through the package, a perfect ratio of gift to bag to tissue paper.
Blaine laughs, really and fully laughs when he extracts the gift and it's quite possibly the best sound in the world (Okay, it's definitely the best sound in the world. Ever. Hands down.).
Pink sunglasses. Pink. Lurid and bright and flashy and not at all what the Dalton rule book suggests for proper eye care.
Blaine's grin grows wider as he meets eyes with Kurt, not once blinking as he slides the sunglasses up his nose. He raises a single perfect eyebrow, seen just above the rim of the sunglasses. In this moment, Kurt's positive that non-conformist-Blaine is the hottest Blaine he's ever seen.
"After all," Kurt provides, his voice teetering between cocky and flirtatious, "what's life without a little bit of whimsy?"