Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic (1/4)
Title: Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic (1/4)
Rating: PG -13
Spoilers: Through 2.12
Warnings: Language; Sexual Innuendo
Word Count: ~3,000 this chapter
Pairings: Eventual Kurt/Blaine; but the emphasis is on the Warblers/New Directions ensemble
Summary: Due to unsafe asbestos levels at Dalton Academy, the Warblers transfer to McKinley and join New Directions. Nope, not kidding. Note the "Crackfic" part of the title.
A/N: This fic was written to express my love (and yes, it is a cracktastic love) for shia_labeouf (She also supplied me with this delightful prompt, so thanks for that!) Thanks to heartsasmagnets for being awesome and to poire_gourmande for translating Kurt's horrified outburst into French.
Just as an FYI: My sister and I love each other to pieces. We are also shamelessly evil to each other. It is in this same spirit that I make fun of Glee. I adore the show, and I mock it in this fic only because I love it. GLEE = MY LITTLE SISTER. The two are remarkably similar, really, except that my sister never causes me to go on rants about continuity and character development and “oh, for crying out loud, will someone on the writing staff please look at GoogleMaps?” And Glee never snuck into my bedroom to hang all of my underwear from my ceiling fan right before I brought David Spencer* up to work on a math project with me in the 10th grade.
*Name changed to protect our friendship. I’m amazed he didn’t disown me then, actually - although he did come out of the closet shortly afterward and I have always wondered if this incident somehow sped the process along.
Now onto the crack! Please enjoyyyy!
Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic
Will Schuester runs a hand through his curls in frustration and then winces - ucch. As much as he hates to admit that Sue could have a point, maybe he does use too much product in his hair.
“William, I understand that the situation isn’t ideal, but”-
“Not ideal?” he echoes in astonishment. “It doesn’t even make any sense!”
Principal Figgins shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Schu, but my hands are tied! The school board has already approved the measure.”
“But the kids”-
“The children will be fine. You’ll see. You should look at this as an opportunity, Schu! I certainly am. We’ve been offered generous financial compensation in exchange for the relatively minor inconvenience”-
“Minor inconvenience?”
0000
0000
In the end, it had been pointless to argue. Will had known that from the moment Figgins had called him into his office.
The only thing to do now is accept the situation with good grace, and encourage the kids to follow his example. He walks along the hallway that leads to the choir room, pausing when he nears the trophy case.
“Will?” The breathy, chirruping voice, accompanied by the staccato click-clack of high heels can only be heralding the approach of one person:
He turns. “Emma?”
Will tries his best not to notice how her doe-eyes glisten slightly, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. He purposely ignores the way her lilac-colored skirt swishes around her knees as she steps toward him. The way her hair glints red-gold like the sunset-
“Hi, Will! I was just - I was, um, in your hallway - well, not your hallway, I guess it’s the school’s hallway, really, but, um, I was in the - near the hallway, or - my office, the - the hallway near my office, you know”-
Will’s head already hurts, so this really isn’t helping. “Emma.” He cuts her off gently. He continues to head toward the choir room, but he purposely slows his gait to allow her to walk with him.
“Anyway, I was nearby,” she says in a rush, her cheeks flushing prettily. “And I thought I heard some strange noises coming from the choir room. Are the kids okay? Is something going on in there?”
They reach the choir room. Will exchanges a quick glance with Emma, and then cautiously opens the door, peering inside. He sweeps his eyes over the room and takes in the scene before him:
Mike and Mercedes are in the center of the room. Mike is coaching her through one of their dance routines, which she’s apparently having trouble learning because she keeps elbowing him violently in the shoulder every time she tries to spin into his arms.
Sam is sitting in the front row of chairs, belting out a Justin Bieber song at the top of his lungs as Artie beatboxes next to him.
Quinn is holding a backpack aloft in the air and laughing as Rachel stands on her tip-toes and jumps for it, squealing: “Give it back, Quinn! I mean it. Give it back!” Quinn bolts suddenly, running around the edges of the choir room in a wide circle, and Rachel gives chase.
Brittany and Santana are sitting in adjacent chairs toward the front, spitting gum out of their mouths and swapping it with one another. Brittany’s eyes glaze over slightly as she chews Santana’s gum. “Okay. Let’s see. You made out with… Trey? And… Danny and… Marcus? And…” She chews thoughtfully. “Is that Antonio I’m tasting?”
Santana shakes her head. “Nope. It’s Nicole Torres. Girl, you are way off your game today.”
Finn is in the third row, cowering behind a chair as Tina shouts furiously at him, punctuating her rant by periodically hitting whatever body parts she can reach with a folder.
“Get it through your head, Finn Hudson!” - smack! “Mike and I are not” - smack! - “going to have a three-eyed” - smack! - “baby”- smack! - “because we are not”- smack! “- related to each other! So will you please” - smack! - “stop telling people”- smack! - “that we are!”
“Sorry!” yelps Rachel as she knocks into Mercedes during one of her loops around the room, still breathlessly racing after Quinn. “Come on, Quinn, please!”
Lauren Zizes is by the piano, holding Jacob ben Israel upside down by his ankles and shaking him roughly. “ - swear to God, Jacob, if you don’t take that blog post down now I will show you what happens to sorry little dweebs who mess with my man. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER?”
Jacob is shrieking: “Yes! Yes! I’ll take it down, I swear. Please let me go. I’m sorry!”
Puck is standing next to Lauren, gazing at her with something akin to awe. “Your arms must be getting tired,” he says thoughtfully to her. “Do you want me to take over for awhile?”
Lauren’s eyelashes flutter. “Nah. I got this.” She shakes Jacob again. “And none of this ‘protecting your source’ crap, Jacob - I WANT NAMES!”
“I'm sorry, Tina, really! I just thought that your mothers looked kinda the same,” says Finn rather desperately. “Maybe it’s just that all Asian people look kinda the same? W-wait - no! I didn’t mean that. I - no - please! Somebody help!” he shouts as Tina now grabs a textbook and draws her arm back to swing, a manic glint in her eyes.
Will crinkles his eyes in confusion and turns to look at Emma.
“The kids are totally fine, Emma,” he says, puzzled by her stunned expression. “I just wish all our glee practices could start off this low-key.”
And with that, Will strides into the room, leaving a gaping guidance counselor in his wake.
“Listen up, guys,” he says, clapping his hands together. Jacob falls to the floor with a crash, pulls himself to his feet, and runs out of the room at full-speed as the New Directions take their seats.
“Guys, I have a really big announcement to make.”
“You’re pregnant,” says Brittany flatly.
Will coughs uncomfortably. “Um. No, Brittany. It’s… well, you know how at the beginning of the year I mentioned that it might be a good idea to get some new members in glee?”
A few of the kids nod in confusion. Rachel crosses her arms defensively, glaring at Will with deep suspicion.
“Well…” He takes a deep breath and braces himself for the onslaught.
0000
0000
The choir practice room at Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio is a scene of utter pandemonium.
There are no less than three Warblers looking out the window instead of staring ahead at the Council Table as is required. Two of the junior members have the top button of their uniform blazer flagrantly unbuttoned. The Warbler fourth from the left in the second row has a non-regulation pencil clipped to his sheet music. And one pitifully foolish freshman with allergies sneezes - right in the middle of practice! - openly flouting Decree 46-B (Subsection iii) concerning the suppression of involuntary bodily functions.
Senior Council Member Wes Koh clears his throat.
“Gentlemen,” he says imperiously, appearing momentarily gratified when every eye in the room snaps mechanically up to his face. “No doubt, you’re all feeling concerned about the announcement made at the beginning of practice in which we announced that there would be an announcement made at the end of practice.”
He pauses and shakes his head sorrowfully from side to side. “But I think you’ll agree that there is no excuse for the chaos I have witnessed this afternoon.”
The Warblers hang their collective heads in shame, and even Pavarotti chirps rather apologetically.
“Well, the time for the announcement,” he announces ominously, “is now.”
The Warblers shoot each other nervous glances, some shifting restlessly in their seats.
“Dalton Academy,” intones Thad, sitting to the right of Wes, “has recently undergone extensive testing for environmental hazards. The school has been shown to have extremely unsafe levels of asbestos.”
“This being the case,” says David, “it has been decided that the Warblers will no longer be able to continue taking classes in this building. As of Monday, March the seventh, we will be attending classes and joining forces with the glee club at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio.”
“What?” gasps Kurt, sounding shell-shocked. And he’s not alone -
The jaw of every Warbler in the room drops precipitously and Pavarotti keels over in a dead faint, falling directly into his glitter tray.
“But - but”- splutters Nick. “You mean the entire school is going to transfer to McKinley?”
“Certainly not,” says Thad pompously. “Just the Warblers.”
“But if the asbestos”-
“Gentlemen,” says David, “the Warblers are like rock stars. The administration can’t afford to transfer every student, but they need at least us to be healthy. We bring in a lot of revenue for the school - and let’s face it, asbestos severely diminishes lung capacity. Who needs lung capacity more than singers?”
The Warblers nod thoughtfully. That does make sense.
“But why in the world are we going to McKinley?” asks Jeff. “It’s, like, two hours away, isn’t it?”
“Well, Kurt’s been driving that distance twice a day for the past three-and-a-half months,” points out Blaine.
“What?” asks Nick, his eyes narrowing. “No. That’s ridiculous. Kurt boards at Dalton, doesn’t he?” He spins around in his seat. “Don’t you, Kurt?”
Kurt casually examines his fingernails, giving a non-committal shrug. “It’s possible that I do," he says airily.
“You live at home,” says Blaine authoritatively. “You told me as much. Warm milk, remember?”
“No way!” argues Nick in disbelief, looking around the room for validation. “He has to board at Dalton. There’s no way he drives two hours up and two hours back to get to school in Ohio during the dead of winter - while hauling a canary along with him every single day!” he says vehemently, gesturing to Pavarotti, who is feebly starting to stir after the severe shock he sustained.
The third member of the Senior Council, David, furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he looks out at the sea of boys. “Why are we even having this discussion? Dalton is not a boarding school, you guys.”
About half of the Warblers nod in agreement - while the rest look absolutely stunned.
“What?” splutters a sophomore named Gabriel. “But - but I’ve been living here for the last two years!”
“Me, too!” says a stricken-sounding senior named Jonathan. “I don’t even think I know where my parents live anymore!”
“Don't know what to tell you. Definitely not a boarding school, dude,” says Jeff apologetically.
“But”-
“Can we please stop discussing these asinine details?” snaps Kurt. “And return to the fact that I am now being forced to return to the school from which I fled in terror?”
Blaine, who is sitting next to Kurt, puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Kurt,” he says soothingly. “We’ll all be there with you. We can keep you safe.”
“I don’t know, Blaine…” says Kurt, sounding highly unconvinced.
“When have I ever steered you wrong?”
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Well, there was that time that you told me to confront my bully and I ended up getting forcibly kissed in a locker room.”
Blaine nods. “Right, but besides that.”
“Well, then you told me you’d fix the situation with Karofsky by ‘talking to him.’ But all that happened was that he freaked out horribly and I had to throw myself between the two of you to keep you from getting your ass pummeled”-
Blaine waves that away. “Sure, sure. But I’m saying aside from that, when have I ever -?”
“-and then you told me that if I just kept quiet and waited for him to come to me, he’d open up eventually. But instead he threatened to kill me and so I had to transfer here”-
-“but aside from that, when have I ever - ?”
“-and then you told me when I first got here that I should stop being myself and it shook my self-confidence considerably”-
“- okay, but besides that”-
“-and then you nearly got me arrested after Jeremiah’s manager at the GAP wanted to press charges for noise violations. I had to convince them that the store was being filmed for a reality TV show”-
“Well, sure,” says Blaine, nodding. “Everyone makes mistakes. But - putting the numerous incidents you just mentioned aside - I have never steered you wrong, Kurt.”
Kurt mulls that over for a few seconds. Then he smiles tentatively at Blaine. “I guess that’s true,” he admits.
Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “So you’ll trust me?”
Kurt nods. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent,” says Thad, speaking from the Council Table. “We should really look at this as an opportunity, fellow Warblers! And Kurt can show us the ropes. What advice can you give us for Monday, Kurt?”
“The most important piece of advice by far,” says Kurt fervently, “is to have a change of clothes available at all times. That way, whether it’s a dumpster toss or a slushie, you’ll be prepared, and…” He trails off, seeing the befuddled expressions around him. “What? What is it?”
Every Warbler in the room is looking down at his uniform.
Jeff frowns uncertainly at Kurt. “What exactly do you mean by… change of clothes?” he asks. “I’m unfamiliar with this phrase.”
Kurt closes his eyes in frustration, glancing over at Blaine when he finally opens them. “We really could have used that fifty-percent discount from the GAP, Romeo.” Blaine shrugs apologetically.
Kurt sighs. “Don’t any of you have additional clothing?”
“Well,” says Wes hesitantly. “I have a Dalton uniform made out of a slightly less abrasive fabric that I use for sleepwear.”
Jonathan nods. “I have one made out of flannel.”
Kurt pivots to his right. “Blaine? What about you?”
“I don’t have Dalton sleepwear, no.”
“So you have normal pajamas?”
“No.”
Kurt frowns. “So what do you wear to bed, then? Unless you - oh…” says Kurt, eyes widening in realization. “Oh.” He completely loses his train of thought.
Blaine just smiles steadily at him, the very picture of innocence.
“Um… what was I saying?” asks Kurt, trying desperately to collect himself. “Oh - right. Well, I guess we’re all going on a shopping field trip tomorrow.”
“Good thinking,” says David. “Where should we go? Wal-Mart?”
Kurt nearly falls out of his seat. He just barely manages to stay upright, although he finds himself having to place a shaking hand over his heart and take several deep, steadying breaths. “Excuse-moi?” he gasps finally. “Qu'est-ce que tu as dit? Wal-Mart?”
“My French isn’t the best, but I think that translates roughly to, ‘Hell, no,’ opines Blaine.
“So where do you suggest we go, Kurt?” asks Wes.
Kurt’s breathing has mostly normalized by this point. “I was thinking the North Hills Mall,” he says, before catching sight of Blaine’s horrified expression and quickly backtracking. “...before I remembered that that would be a terrible idea, so forget I said it, okay? Um - how about the mall in Lima? I mean, it’s pretty sucktastic but at least I can give you guys a tour of the town.”
Thad sweeps his eyes across the room. “Are we in agreement, fellow Warblers?”
Everyone is.
“Fabulous!” says Kurt brightly. “We’ll set out tomorrow at 10:30 in the morning. Bring a credit card, a sense of adventure, and your listening ears - I will be giving out all the information you’ll need to get by at McKinley.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “Surely McKinley isn’t that different from Dalton.”
Kurt gulps. “Um… well… actually, guys…?”
The Warblers all turn to face him, wide-eyed and expectant.
Kurt smiles nervously. “You’ll… you’ll all do just great there!” he says, lying through his teeth and hoping that things have changed really drastically in the short time he’s been gone.
Part Two: community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/878555.html
Rating: PG -13
Spoilers: Through 2.12
Warnings: Language; Sexual Innuendo
Word Count: ~3,000 this chapter
Pairings: Eventual Kurt/Blaine; but the emphasis is on the Warblers/New Directions ensemble
Summary: Due to unsafe asbestos levels at Dalton Academy, the Warblers transfer to McKinley and join New Directions. Nope, not kidding. Note the "Crackfic" part of the title.
A/N: This fic was written to express my love (and yes, it is a cracktastic love) for shia_labeouf (She also supplied me with this delightful prompt, so thanks for that!) Thanks to heartsasmagnets for being awesome and to poire_gourmande for translating Kurt's horrified outburst into French.
Just as an FYI: My sister and I love each other to pieces. We are also shamelessly evil to each other. It is in this same spirit that I make fun of Glee. I adore the show, and I mock it in this fic only because I love it. GLEE = MY LITTLE SISTER. The two are remarkably similar, really, except that my sister never causes me to go on rants about continuity and character development and “oh, for crying out loud, will someone on the writing staff please look at GoogleMaps?” And Glee never snuck into my bedroom to hang all of my underwear from my ceiling fan right before I brought David Spencer* up to work on a math project with me in the 10th grade.
*Name changed to protect our friendship. I’m amazed he didn’t disown me then, actually - although he did come out of the closet shortly afterward and I have always wondered if this incident somehow sped the process along.
Now onto the crack! Please enjoyyyy!
Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic
Will Schuester runs a hand through his curls in frustration and then winces - ucch. As much as he hates to admit that Sue could have a point, maybe he does use too much product in his hair.
“William, I understand that the situation isn’t ideal, but”-
“Not ideal?” he echoes in astonishment. “It doesn’t even make any sense!”
Principal Figgins shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Schu, but my hands are tied! The school board has already approved the measure.”
“But the kids”-
“The children will be fine. You’ll see. You should look at this as an opportunity, Schu! I certainly am. We’ve been offered generous financial compensation in exchange for the relatively minor inconvenience”-
“Minor inconvenience?”
0000
0000
In the end, it had been pointless to argue. Will had known that from the moment Figgins had called him into his office.
The only thing to do now is accept the situation with good grace, and encourage the kids to follow his example. He walks along the hallway that leads to the choir room, pausing when he nears the trophy case.
“Will?” The breathy, chirruping voice, accompanied by the staccato click-clack of high heels can only be heralding the approach of one person:
He turns. “Emma?”
Will tries his best not to notice how her doe-eyes glisten slightly, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. He purposely ignores the way her lilac-colored skirt swishes around her knees as she steps toward him. The way her hair glints red-gold like the sunset-
“Hi, Will! I was just - I was, um, in your hallway - well, not your hallway, I guess it’s the school’s hallway, really, but, um, I was in the - near the hallway, or - my office, the - the hallway near my office, you know”-
Will’s head already hurts, so this really isn’t helping. “Emma.” He cuts her off gently. He continues to head toward the choir room, but he purposely slows his gait to allow her to walk with him.
“Anyway, I was nearby,” she says in a rush, her cheeks flushing prettily. “And I thought I heard some strange noises coming from the choir room. Are the kids okay? Is something going on in there?”
They reach the choir room. Will exchanges a quick glance with Emma, and then cautiously opens the door, peering inside. He sweeps his eyes over the room and takes in the scene before him:
Mike and Mercedes are in the center of the room. Mike is coaching her through one of their dance routines, which she’s apparently having trouble learning because she keeps elbowing him violently in the shoulder every time she tries to spin into his arms.
Sam is sitting in the front row of chairs, belting out a Justin Bieber song at the top of his lungs as Artie beatboxes next to him.
Quinn is holding a backpack aloft in the air and laughing as Rachel stands on her tip-toes and jumps for it, squealing: “Give it back, Quinn! I mean it. Give it back!” Quinn bolts suddenly, running around the edges of the choir room in a wide circle, and Rachel gives chase.
Brittany and Santana are sitting in adjacent chairs toward the front, spitting gum out of their mouths and swapping it with one another. Brittany’s eyes glaze over slightly as she chews Santana’s gum. “Okay. Let’s see. You made out with… Trey? And… Danny and… Marcus? And…” She chews thoughtfully. “Is that Antonio I’m tasting?”
Santana shakes her head. “Nope. It’s Nicole Torres. Girl, you are way off your game today.”
Finn is in the third row, cowering behind a chair as Tina shouts furiously at him, punctuating her rant by periodically hitting whatever body parts she can reach with a folder.
“Get it through your head, Finn Hudson!” - smack! “Mike and I are not” - smack! - “going to have a three-eyed” - smack! - “baby”- smack! - “because we are not”- smack! “- related to each other! So will you please” - smack! - “stop telling people”- smack! - “that we are!”
“Sorry!” yelps Rachel as she knocks into Mercedes during one of her loops around the room, still breathlessly racing after Quinn. “Come on, Quinn, please!”
Lauren Zizes is by the piano, holding Jacob ben Israel upside down by his ankles and shaking him roughly. “ - swear to God, Jacob, if you don’t take that blog post down now I will show you what happens to sorry little dweebs who mess with my man. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER?”
Jacob is shrieking: “Yes! Yes! I’ll take it down, I swear. Please let me go. I’m sorry!”
Puck is standing next to Lauren, gazing at her with something akin to awe. “Your arms must be getting tired,” he says thoughtfully to her. “Do you want me to take over for awhile?”
Lauren’s eyelashes flutter. “Nah. I got this.” She shakes Jacob again. “And none of this ‘protecting your source’ crap, Jacob - I WANT NAMES!”
“I'm sorry, Tina, really! I just thought that your mothers looked kinda the same,” says Finn rather desperately. “Maybe it’s just that all Asian people look kinda the same? W-wait - no! I didn’t mean that. I - no - please! Somebody help!” he shouts as Tina now grabs a textbook and draws her arm back to swing, a manic glint in her eyes.
Will crinkles his eyes in confusion and turns to look at Emma.
“The kids are totally fine, Emma,” he says, puzzled by her stunned expression. “I just wish all our glee practices could start off this low-key.”
And with that, Will strides into the room, leaving a gaping guidance counselor in his wake.
“Listen up, guys,” he says, clapping his hands together. Jacob falls to the floor with a crash, pulls himself to his feet, and runs out of the room at full-speed as the New Directions take their seats.
“Guys, I have a really big announcement to make.”
“You’re pregnant,” says Brittany flatly.
Will coughs uncomfortably. “Um. No, Brittany. It’s… well, you know how at the beginning of the year I mentioned that it might be a good idea to get some new members in glee?”
A few of the kids nod in confusion. Rachel crosses her arms defensively, glaring at Will with deep suspicion.
“Well…” He takes a deep breath and braces himself for the onslaught.
0000
0000
The choir practice room at Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio is a scene of utter pandemonium.
There are no less than three Warblers looking out the window instead of staring ahead at the Council Table as is required. Two of the junior members have the top button of their uniform blazer flagrantly unbuttoned. The Warbler fourth from the left in the second row has a non-regulation pencil clipped to his sheet music. And one pitifully foolish freshman with allergies sneezes - right in the middle of practice! - openly flouting Decree 46-B (Subsection iii) concerning the suppression of involuntary bodily functions.
Senior Council Member Wes Koh clears his throat.
“Gentlemen,” he says imperiously, appearing momentarily gratified when every eye in the room snaps mechanically up to his face. “No doubt, you’re all feeling concerned about the announcement made at the beginning of practice in which we announced that there would be an announcement made at the end of practice.”
He pauses and shakes his head sorrowfully from side to side. “But I think you’ll agree that there is no excuse for the chaos I have witnessed this afternoon.”
The Warblers hang their collective heads in shame, and even Pavarotti chirps rather apologetically.
“Well, the time for the announcement,” he announces ominously, “is now.”
The Warblers shoot each other nervous glances, some shifting restlessly in their seats.
“Dalton Academy,” intones Thad, sitting to the right of Wes, “has recently undergone extensive testing for environmental hazards. The school has been shown to have extremely unsafe levels of asbestos.”
“This being the case,” says David, “it has been decided that the Warblers will no longer be able to continue taking classes in this building. As of Monday, March the seventh, we will be attending classes and joining forces with the glee club at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio.”
“What?” gasps Kurt, sounding shell-shocked. And he’s not alone -
The jaw of every Warbler in the room drops precipitously and Pavarotti keels over in a dead faint, falling directly into his glitter tray.
“But - but”- splutters Nick. “You mean the entire school is going to transfer to McKinley?”
“Certainly not,” says Thad pompously. “Just the Warblers.”
“But if the asbestos”-
“Gentlemen,” says David, “the Warblers are like rock stars. The administration can’t afford to transfer every student, but they need at least us to be healthy. We bring in a lot of revenue for the school - and let’s face it, asbestos severely diminishes lung capacity. Who needs lung capacity more than singers?”
The Warblers nod thoughtfully. That does make sense.
“But why in the world are we going to McKinley?” asks Jeff. “It’s, like, two hours away, isn’t it?”
“Well, Kurt’s been driving that distance twice a day for the past three-and-a-half months,” points out Blaine.
“What?” asks Nick, his eyes narrowing. “No. That’s ridiculous. Kurt boards at Dalton, doesn’t he?” He spins around in his seat. “Don’t you, Kurt?”
Kurt casually examines his fingernails, giving a non-committal shrug. “It’s possible that I do," he says airily.
“You live at home,” says Blaine authoritatively. “You told me as much. Warm milk, remember?”
“No way!” argues Nick in disbelief, looking around the room for validation. “He has to board at Dalton. There’s no way he drives two hours up and two hours back to get to school in Ohio during the dead of winter - while hauling a canary along with him every single day!” he says vehemently, gesturing to Pavarotti, who is feebly starting to stir after the severe shock he sustained.
The third member of the Senior Council, David, furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he looks out at the sea of boys. “Why are we even having this discussion? Dalton is not a boarding school, you guys.”
About half of the Warblers nod in agreement - while the rest look absolutely stunned.
“What?” splutters a sophomore named Gabriel. “But - but I’ve been living here for the last two years!”
“Me, too!” says a stricken-sounding senior named Jonathan. “I don’t even think I know where my parents live anymore!”
“Don't know what to tell you. Definitely not a boarding school, dude,” says Jeff apologetically.
“But”-
“Can we please stop discussing these asinine details?” snaps Kurt. “And return to the fact that I am now being forced to return to the school from which I fled in terror?”
Blaine, who is sitting next to Kurt, puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Kurt,” he says soothingly. “We’ll all be there with you. We can keep you safe.”
“I don’t know, Blaine…” says Kurt, sounding highly unconvinced.
“When have I ever steered you wrong?”
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Well, there was that time that you told me to confront my bully and I ended up getting forcibly kissed in a locker room.”
Blaine nods. “Right, but besides that.”
“Well, then you told me you’d fix the situation with Karofsky by ‘talking to him.’ But all that happened was that he freaked out horribly and I had to throw myself between the two of you to keep you from getting your ass pummeled”-
Blaine waves that away. “Sure, sure. But I’m saying aside from that, when have I ever -?”
“-and then you told me that if I just kept quiet and waited for him to come to me, he’d open up eventually. But instead he threatened to kill me and so I had to transfer here”-
-“but aside from that, when have I ever - ?”
“-and then you told me when I first got here that I should stop being myself and it shook my self-confidence considerably”-
“- okay, but besides that”-
“-and then you nearly got me arrested after Jeremiah’s manager at the GAP wanted to press charges for noise violations. I had to convince them that the store was being filmed for a reality TV show”-
“Well, sure,” says Blaine, nodding. “Everyone makes mistakes. But - putting the numerous incidents you just mentioned aside - I have never steered you wrong, Kurt.”
Kurt mulls that over for a few seconds. Then he smiles tentatively at Blaine. “I guess that’s true,” he admits.
Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “So you’ll trust me?”
Kurt nods. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent,” says Thad, speaking from the Council Table. “We should really look at this as an opportunity, fellow Warblers! And Kurt can show us the ropes. What advice can you give us for Monday, Kurt?”
“The most important piece of advice by far,” says Kurt fervently, “is to have a change of clothes available at all times. That way, whether it’s a dumpster toss or a slushie, you’ll be prepared, and…” He trails off, seeing the befuddled expressions around him. “What? What is it?”
Every Warbler in the room is looking down at his uniform.
Jeff frowns uncertainly at Kurt. “What exactly do you mean by… change of clothes?” he asks. “I’m unfamiliar with this phrase.”
Kurt closes his eyes in frustration, glancing over at Blaine when he finally opens them. “We really could have used that fifty-percent discount from the GAP, Romeo.” Blaine shrugs apologetically.
Kurt sighs. “Don’t any of you have additional clothing?”
“Well,” says Wes hesitantly. “I have a Dalton uniform made out of a slightly less abrasive fabric that I use for sleepwear.”
Jonathan nods. “I have one made out of flannel.”
Kurt pivots to his right. “Blaine? What about you?”
“I don’t have Dalton sleepwear, no.”
“So you have normal pajamas?”
“No.”
Kurt frowns. “So what do you wear to bed, then? Unless you - oh…” says Kurt, eyes widening in realization. “Oh.” He completely loses his train of thought.
Blaine just smiles steadily at him, the very picture of innocence.
“Um… what was I saying?” asks Kurt, trying desperately to collect himself. “Oh - right. Well, I guess we’re all going on a shopping field trip tomorrow.”
“Good thinking,” says David. “Where should we go? Wal-Mart?”
Kurt nearly falls out of his seat. He just barely manages to stay upright, although he finds himself having to place a shaking hand over his heart and take several deep, steadying breaths. “Excuse-moi?” he gasps finally. “Qu'est-ce que tu as dit? Wal-Mart?”
“My French isn’t the best, but I think that translates roughly to, ‘Hell, no,’ opines Blaine.
“So where do you suggest we go, Kurt?” asks Wes.
Kurt’s breathing has mostly normalized by this point. “I was thinking the North Hills Mall,” he says, before catching sight of Blaine’s horrified expression and quickly backtracking. “...before I remembered that that would be a terrible idea, so forget I said it, okay? Um - how about the mall in Lima? I mean, it’s pretty sucktastic but at least I can give you guys a tour of the town.”
Thad sweeps his eyes across the room. “Are we in agreement, fellow Warblers?”
Everyone is.
“Fabulous!” says Kurt brightly. “We’ll set out tomorrow at 10:30 in the morning. Bring a credit card, a sense of adventure, and your listening ears - I will be giving out all the information you’ll need to get by at McKinley.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “Surely McKinley isn’t that different from Dalton.”
Kurt gulps. “Um… well… actually, guys…?”
The Warblers all turn to face him, wide-eyed and expectant.
Kurt smiles nervously. “You’ll… you’ll all do just great there!” he says, lying through his teeth and hoping that things have changed really drastically in the short time he’s been gone.
Part Two: community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/878555.html