Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic (3/4)
Title: Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic (3/4)
Author: Caroline-Shea
Rating: PG -13
Spoilers: Through 2.12
Warnings: Language; Sexual Innuendo
Word Count: ~4,000 this chapter (~10,000 total)
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: So… the Warblers and New Directions bond over the cheesiest thing I could think of and Kurt and Blaine bond over the most cracktastic thing I could think of! Thanks a million to irraeni for being my amazing GleeYoda, and thanks a zillion to everyone who has given this insanity a chance!!! It means a ridiculous amount to me. Please enjoy!!!
Part One - Part Two
Canary in a Coal Mine: A Warblerections Crossover Crackfic (3/4)
By the time Brittany, Jeff, and a thoroughly traumatized Pavarotti re-enter the choir room, Mr. Schuester has moved on to a new topic of conversation - the Glee Club budget.
“I’m sure you’re all aware of how sadly underfunded the arts are in public schools - I’m sorry to say that that holds true at McKinley.” Mr. Schuester sighs heavily. “But we manage. We do the best we can with what we’ve been given, and we find a way to make it work.”
The Warblers all look suitably sympathetic, and Wes shakes his head gravely. “How bad is the situation? If you don’t mind us asking, Mr. Schuester?”
“Not at all, Wes. But there’s not much to tell.” He looks around the choir room. “This is basically it - we have a room in which we can practice. Other than that-”
“We have a rain machine,” says Artie.
“And a fog machine,” adds Quinn.
“Actually, it’s just the rain machine,” corrects Artie. “It has different settings - rain, fog, fake snow… I think maybe a few other simulated meteorological effects?”
“We also possess a state of the art lighting system,” points out Rachel.
“But those things are essentially it. That’s all we have, boys,” says Mr. Schuester sadly.
“Wait,” says Kurt, “aren’t we forgetting the three seamstresses we have on retainer who provide us with elaborate costuming for impromptu performances?”
“There are only two now,” says Quinn sorrowfully. “Budget cuts.”
“Oh, and plus we have a full-time piano player on salary. His name is Brad - you’ll be introduced to him shortly,” Rachel explains.
“And a rotating staff of musicians who own a wide range of instruments, can appear at a moment’s notice, and possess a seemingly unlimited song repertoire,” adds Kurt.
“Oh - and we have an entire auditorium exclusively for our use that was gifted to us by a millionaire benefactress,” adds Rachel.
“But that’s it,” says Mr. Schuester. “That’s all Glee Club has to its name.”
A long, awkward silence follows this declaration.
“It’s all right, boys,” Mr. Schuester says comfortingly. “We’re upset by it, too - the arts don’t get nearly the attention or financial backing that they should, and it’s perfectly okay to express those opinions here. You’re among friends.”
Nick clears his throat. “I have some feelings I’d like to express”-
“Nick,” says David warningly.
“Well, I’m sorry, but are you listening to”-
“I think,” says Blaine, swiftly cutting off Nick’s retort, “what my fellow Warblers are wondering… is, um… well, what exactly is it that you have trouble affording?”
“Handicapped buses and tickets to Nationals,” answers Mr. Schuester sorrowfully. “Guys, I think we may have to hold another bake sale.”
Blaine opens his mouth and then shuts it quickly, apparently thinking better of what he’d been planning to say.
“What is it, Blaine?” asks Kurt.
Blaine swallows. “Well - um - and this is in no way meant to sound critical,” he says, eyeing Mr. Schuester somewhat nervously. “But it seems to me that if one was forced, for monetary reasons, to choose between an effects machine and a full-time piano player versus a handicapped bus and tickets to Nationals…”
Mr. Schuester cocks his head to the side, his eyes crinkling in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
“I just meant - if you had to decide which of those things is most important… do you see where I’m going with this?”
Mr. Schuester shakes his head. “I’m sorry. No.”
Blaine glances to his right and exchanges a helpless look with David. “Uh... Okay. I guess just - never mind, then.”
“Guys, believe me. I know what you’re saying. You’re still getting used to how things operate here. We do run things differently and it’s normal to have concerns - and even fears. But let me assure you,” says Mr. Schuester steadily, “that McKinley High School is a warm and welcoming environment. It won’t be as different from Dalton as you guys think. Trust me.”
And with that, he reaches for a notebook lying on the table behind him. “Okay! Next order of business: In the interests of safety, and in consideration of your perceived status as ‘prep-school new kids,’ I’ve taken the liberty of assigning each of you Warblers a New Directions bodyguard. Finn, you’ll be protecting Jeff. Tina, you’ll be protecting Gabriel. Mercedes,”-
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” protests Jonathan loudly. “Wait. What do you mean you’ve ‘assigned us a bodyguard?’”
“Well, there shouldn’t really be any life-threatening incidents. Those are extremely rare. But you’ll need someone to, you know, pull you out of dumpsters and wash corn syrup out of your hair and distract the bullies when they’re looking to shove you into lockers”-
“What?” gasps Gabriel. “You’re saying those things could actually happen to us?”
Puck rolls his eyes. “Dude, no - he’s saying they will happen to you. Get with the program.”
“But - isn’t that kind of problematic? I mean, shouldn’t we be concerned about the fact that we need bodyguards just to get through”-
“Well,” says Mr. Schuester thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t really think of it like that. Think of it as, like, a bonding activity! You’ll be learning valuable tips from the people at this school with the most bullying experience - some of us from having been bullies, and some of us from having been bullied.”
“Wait,” says Wes slowly. “If the situation’s bad enough that we need bodyguards”-
“That may have been an unfortunate word choice on my part,” Mr. Schuester says regretfully. “Let’s not call them ‘bodyguards.’ I know - we’ll call them ‘buddyguards!’ That’s much friendlier.”
The Warblers collectively gape at Mr. Schuester.
“Okay - so continuing with our list. Santana, you’ll be protecting Wes”-
“Wanky.” She drops Wes a sultry wink.
“Kurt, as both a New Directions member and a Warbler, you’ll be protecting yourself”-
Kurt sighs bitterly. “Yeah, yeah. What else is new?”
“Brittany, you’ll be protecting David.”
She claps her hands delightedly. “Yaaay, Jonathan!”
“Quinn, you’ll be protecting”-
By the time the ‘buddyguards’ have all been assigned, the Warblers are not feeling any more comfortable about their situation.
In fact, it’s entirely safe to say that they feel much, much worse.
0000
0000
As the week continues, it becomes readily apparent that Mr. Schuester’s precautions are no match for the bullies of McKinley.
The New Directions members exhaust themselves trying to keep the Warblers at least semi-safe:
“Okay, this is Latin Lover establishing contact with Stretch-Marks. Stretch-Marks, can you hear me? Over.”
“Santana, I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling me that”-
“Whatever,” says Santana into her cell phone. “Frankenteen tells me we have a Code Red down in C hallway?”
“Negative. That’s a Code Purple. Send reinforcements.”
“Dammit!” hisses Santana. “A grape slushie? Man, so we’re going to need to send in”-
“Porcelain. He has the stain remover. And we’ll need Mohawk to provide cover.”
Santana sighs. “Which Warbler is it?”
Quinn turns to her left. “Brittany, do you know who got hit with the grape slushie?”
Brittany nods. “It was Jonathan.”
Quinn grits her teeth and holds the phone back up to her ear. “Yeah, we have no idea.”
Santana shrugs. “I’ll alert back-up, anyway.” The second she hangs up the phone, she’s nearly bowled over by Sam and Mike, who are both running fast and breathing heavily.
“We have a situation,” Sam says to her, panting. “Two Warblers cornered in the stairwell by the library, another one’s been thrown into a dumpster, two are hanging from the coat racks in the teacher’s lounge, and Blaine’s trapped inside the vending machine.”
“Again?” asks Santana, her jaw dropping.
“Yeah,” says Mike. “We sent Lauren out to the dumpsters, me and Sam are headed to the teacher’s lounge, Kurt’s going up to the vending machine”-
“Shit! We need Kurt in C Hallway with the stain remover.”
Mike shrugs. “It’s Blaine, Santana. You’re not going to convince Kurt”-
“Yeah, yeah,” snaps Santana. “Spare me from his pathetic homoerotic delusions of a relationship.”
“Anyway - Finn’s cleaning up a Code Blue in E Hallway. Can you send Puck up to the library stairwell?”
Santana shakes her head. “We need Puck to stand guard in C Hallway. But don’t worry - I got this.”
“You and Brittany?” asks Sam, eyebrows raised slightly.
“Me and Brittany,” confirms Santana. “I’ll go grab her. Best of luck, boys.”
Santana runs down to C Hallway - on the way she passes Rachel, who appears to be duct-taping cushions of various sizes to the nearest row of lockers - and quickly finds Quinn and Brittany standing outside the boys bathroom.
“I need her upstairs,” she says to Quinn, grabbing Brittany by the arm.
“Make it fast,” says Quinn warningly. “The bell’s about to ring, and last time we had four locker shoves in this hallway alone.”
“I think Man-Hands might already be on that, but we’ll hurry, anyway.”
The girls sprint up the stairs just in time to see four football players closing in on Jeff and Nick.
“Oh, bo-ys,” Santana sing-songs flirtatiously.
The football players spin around just as Santana pulls Brittany into her arms and seals her mouth over the blonde’s. Brittany lets out a contented hmm against Santana’s lips and twines her arms around the dark-haired girl’s neck delicately.
Almost immediately, they hear a chorus of strangled gulping noises, followed a few seconds later by the soft pitter-patter of feet moving in the opposite direction.
Crisis averted!
They wait about thirty seconds before breaking apart. Santana waves jauntily to the football players. “Well, we just stopped by to say hello. We’ll make sure to catch you boys later,” she purrs.
The second she and Brittany are out of their sight, she rolls her eyes. “Ugh - could those guys seriously be any dumber?”
Brittany looks up at her quizzically. “Do you think the Jonathans are okay? And are there squirrels on my teeth, Santana?”
Santana sighs to herself. “Yes. They could be dumber.”
“Hey, Brittany! Santana!” The girls whip around to see Finn racing up to them. “Sorry - Tina was supposed to get you guys sooner, but she threw herself in front of a cherry slushie meant for Gabriel and Rachel and Mercedes are cleaning her off.”
Santana shudders. “The cherry ones are the worst. You end up looking like something that escaped from a slaughterhouse.”
“Well, anyway - we need you to come and make out with each other in Hallway D. Thad and Devonte just got thrown into a dumpster.”
“Who do you need us to distract?” asks Santana.
Finn shrugs. “Nobody. But the dudes just got thrown into a dumpster - a little girl-on-girl action always cheers me up. It seems like the least we can do.”
Santana turns to Brittany, who nods her approval. She shrugs. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right down.”
0000
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But - as upset as the Warblers are by the multiple daily assaults they’re receiving - it’s impossible not to feel gratitude toward the members of New Directions, who are clearly doing everything in their power to stem the constant flow of harassment.
And to the collective surprise of everyone, the ‘buddyguard’ system does work better than expected, at least in terms of glee club bonding.
Tina and Gabriel get to spend some quality time together hiding out in the library from Karofsky.
Puck and Marc are able to bond while plotting increasingly outlandish revenge scenarios for the McKinley bullies.
Wes and Santana get to know each other very well while locked in a janitor’s closet for two hours - before Santana remembers that Coach Sylvester gives her star cheerleaders skeleton keys to every door in the school and that the aforementioned key had been hidden in her bra the whole time. Whoops. What a silly mistake on her part.
But the true bonding moment comes on Thursday afternoon, when the Warblers and New Directions members are waiting in the choir room for Mr. Schuester.
They’d been seated for about five minutes, talking in small groups, when Puck pulls out a guitar and starts absently strumming some chords, the sound of which is mostly muffled amid the commotion in the room.
Eventually, however, he stands up - still playing - and approaches Lauren, who is seated in the front row. The chords change into something recognizable, and Lauren blushes as she begins to realize that Puck is making his second attempt to serenade her.
Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you’re so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks, now I'm tryin’ to get back
The Warblers glance at each other uncomfortably - no doubt remembering the last time one of them had tried serenading a potential significant other in public. But to their surprise, not only does Lauren seem very appreciative of the gesture, but the New Directions kids are actually getting into it as well.
Before the cool done run out I'll be givin’ it my bestest
and nothin's gonna stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn… to win some or learn some
The boys - first Finn, then Sam, and then Artie and Kurt - begin harmonizing in the background, and the girls begin swaying lightly to the beat. By the time they reach the pre-chorus, most of the New Directions kids are out of their seats, singing along and dancing with one another.
But I won't hesitate no more, no more,
It cannot wait - I'm yours...
Quinn, Rachel, and Mercedes run over to Nick, Jeff, Gabriel, David, and Jonathan, who are clustered together on the far end of the second and third row.
“Come on - dance with us!” says Quinn, laughing.
“But - we don’t know what to do!” protests David.
Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Neither do we, guys. We just go with it. Come on!”
She pulls a flustered David to his feet, just as Kurt drags Blaine up out of his chair.
“Dance with me,” he says, eyes sparkling happily.
Blaine blinks at him. “I don’t understand - we’re not, like, doing this song for a competition or anything. Are we?”
Kurt sighs fondly. “It’s not always about that, Blaine. Sometimes it’s just about singing and dancing with your friends. Just… because.”
“But”-
“Just relax, Blaine. Let go. Live a little.”
And before long, the Warblers have all been dragged out of their chairs and have allowed themselves to enter into the beautiful chaos that is the New Directions.
Santana spins herself into Wes’ arms and smiles up at him as she sings:
Well, open up your mind and see like me…
Quinn grabs David by the hands and holds their arms up so that they form a bridge, which Rachel and Mercedes laughingly duck underneath and then motion for Jonathan and Gabriel to follow.
Open up your plans, and damn - you're free…
Kurt pulls Blaine into a hug and sways with him, slow-dancing style, leaning down to sing softly into his ear:
Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love, love…
Finn grabs a tambourine and shoves it into a protesting Thad’s hands, before heading over to the drum-set. “Come on, dude - back me up!” he says as he reaches for the drumsticks.
The Warblers have begun joining in on the lyrics as well, their voices swelling loudly and blending beautifully.
Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing - we’re just one big family…
“Will? Will?” says a voice. “Are the kids okay? I thought I heard a loud commotion coming from”-
The door to the choir room opens. “Hey, guys, sorry I’m…” Mr. Schuester stops and takes in the scene before him. A few seconds later, he lets the door swing open wider to reveal Ms. Pillsbury-Howell beside him.
They stand in the doorway together for a long moment, drinking in the sights and sounds of the choir room - a happy tangle of teenagers, dancing badly and singing loudly:
…there's no need to complicate, our time is short -
This is our fate - I'm yours…
He glances sideways at her. “The kids are totally fine, Emma.”
“Yes, Will,” she says, smiling softly. “I can see.”
0000
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“Fellow Warblers,” says Thad pompously, “I’m sure you’re all aware of why I called this meeting.”
“Thad,” says David, rolling his eyes. “No one’s aware of why you called this meeting. We tried to ask you, like, a million times, remember? And you wouldn’t tell us?”
The fifteen Dalton boys are standing huddled in the McKinley parking lot on Thursday afternoon, about half an hour after practice had ended. The boys are still a bursting bundle of energy:
“That was so much fun!”
“Did you see that dance move I did with Brittany, where I kind of twirled her - ?”
“God, we didn’t even know what we were doing”-
“It felt so weird”-
“It felt awesome!”
“I just made up that harmony on the spot, can you believe it?”
“Gentlemen,” Thad booms. “Your attention, please.”
It takes another few seconds before they manage to calm themselves to Thad’s satisfaction.
“Thank you,” he says finally, before drawing in a deep breath. “My purpose in calling this impromptu meeting is the following. While we have certainly had our share of troubles at McKinley, even I am forced to admit that the members of New Directions have been exceptionally gracious hosts. Gentlemen, I find myself wondering - isn’t there something we can do to improve the situation here? Not just for ourselves - but for them?”
The Warblers look perplexed.
“Like what?” asks Gabriel.
Thad shrugs. “I don’t exactly know. But we’re smart, capable young men. Surely we can come up with some ideas. I think we owe it - both to ourselves and to the New Directions - to at least try. Remember the Dalton school motto: Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem.*”
*In the good old days, children like you were left on windswept crags to die.
The Warblers nod thoughtfully.
“I have always found that saying to be very inspirational,” admits David.
“So we’re agreed, then?” asks Thad. “We’ll come up with some ideas?”
Blaine clears his throat quietly.
“Yes, Blaine?” asks Wes.
“I have a really dumb idea, actually.”
David raises an eyebrow. “Like… as in… so dumb that it’s genius?”
Blaine shrugs. “Maybe?”
Thad sighs. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
0000
0000
By a narrow margin of votes, it had been decided that the plan would be adopted and implemented the following day during lunch in the cafeteria.
At noon on Friday, a tight knot of Warblers are clustered by one of the front tables. Several of the New Directions members make their way over as well.
“What is it?” asks Rachel. “What’s everyone doing?”
Wes looks grave. “We are about to do something that could change all of our lives for the better.”
“Or possibly get Blaine killed,” says Nick.
Wes nods. “Or possibly get Blaine killed, yes.”
Kurt, who has just shown up, looks at Blaine with wide, startled eyes. “Wh- what do they mean, Blaine? What’s going on?”
Blaine places his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and gazes steadily at him. “Kurt,” he says. “I know this might be difficult for you to understand. But this is something that I have to do. For you. For us. For all of glee club.”
Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t understand, Blaine. What”-
Blaine leans forward and tilts his head up suddenly, cutting off Kurt’s reply by pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Just as suddenly, Blaine pulls away.
“In case I don’t come back,” he says quietly.
Kurt’s eyes are practically bugging out of his sockets now. “What the hell - ?”
But Blaine has already turned and begun walking toward - oh, no! - the slushie machine. The same slushie machine, in fact, that Karofsky, Azimio, and Mitchell are walking toward, with malice in their eyes.
“Oh my god,” breathes Kurt. “Guys, what’s he doing? He’s not seriously going to confront them, is he? That’s suicide!”
“Sssh,” says Wes. “Just watch, Kurt.”
Blaine, looking much braver than he’s probably feeling, approaches the slushie machine just as the football players do. They look down at the much-shorter Blaine. He stares right back up at them -
- and then, quick as a flash, Blaine reaches down into his messenger bag and pulls something out of it. He slaps whatever it is against the slushie machine and then stands aside, to reveal a white piece of paper scotch-taped prominently to the front, with one word written in large black lettering: BROKEN.
The football players squint at the sign and then look at each other.
“Dude,” says Karofsky. “That fucking sucks.”
“Just our luck, man,” sighs Azimio, shaking his head.
“Whatever,” says Mitchell. “I have, like, homework or some shit that I should be finishing, anyway.”
And the three of them turn and walk away, in the same direction from which they’d come.
An exceptionally smug-looking Blaine returns to the throng of Warblers, who are all tripping over themselves to hug and congratulate him. A white-faced Kurt looks as though he isn’t sure whether to kiss or kill him.
As for the New Directions?
Rachel turns around to face the McKinley kids who have gathered to watch the scene, placing her hands on her hips and staring at them ferociously.
“All right, guys,” she says evenly, “why the hell didn’t we think of that?”
0000
0000
In celebration of the glee club’s first slushie-free day in living memory, Mr. Schuester lets them out of their Friday afternoon practice.
Blaine asks Kurt to go for a walk with him at a nearby park, and Kurt - who is not so much a nature-person, but is very much a Blaine-person - readily agrees.
It’s fairly chilly, but neither Blaine nor Kurt seem to mind huddling close together, their hands intertwined and their bodies pressed close as they walk along one of the quieter trails.
“Hey, Kurt - can I ask you something?” asks Blaine shyly.
“Anything,” says Kurt honestly.
“Well - it’s not a big deal or anything. But when we were talking to Mercedes yesterday, she mentioned something about your dad getting you a car for your 16th birthday a year-and-a-half ago….”
Kurt’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay. Um - correct me if I’m wrong - but didn’t we just celebrate your 16th birthday a few months ago?”
Kurt sighs. “Yeah. I - sorry. This is kind of awkward.” He inhales sharply. “Here’s the thing. I was 16 at the beginning of last year. I was a junior and this should be my senior year. But when I woke up for my first day of school this year, I discovered that I’d actually regressed to being a sophomore. Everything had changed - my birth certificate, my driver’s license, my high school transcripts…”
“Wow…” breathes Blaine.
“Yeah,” says Kurt. “I mean, you hear about this sort of thing happening to other people, but you just never think it’ll be you, you know?”
Blaine nods. “Yeah.”
“My friends were very understanding,” says Kurt. “And my dad told me that it had happened to a friend of his in high school, too. But even so - I’m still kind of adjusting.”
“So it was what - two years?”
“Yep,” says Kurt. “It’s still kind of confusing doing the mental math. And I get mixed up about dates - like sometimes I’ll say that my mom died eight years ago and sometimes I’ll say that she died ten years ago. I keep forgetting how old I am and then I'll have to recalculate.”
Blaine absorbs this for a minute, before taking a deep breath and confessing: “It happened to me, too.”
Kurt looks up at him in shock. “It did?”
“Yeah. Just one year, though. I started out this year as a junior, and I was seventeen - but then right before you came - blam. Sixteen and a sophomore.”
“You’re kidding,” says Kurt. “I - I’ve never met anyone else who…”
“Me, neither,” says Blaine.
“Wow. My god - it's so nice to be with someone who understands...”
Blaine brings Kurt’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it softly. "I know just what you mean. We're so lucky to have found each other, Kurt."
Kurt's smile rivals the late afternoon sun in its brightness and intensity.
“We really, really are.”
TO BE CONT’d…
Additional A/N: An exciting "Behind-the-Scenes" look at the making of this chapter!
The following is the basic gist of a conversation that occurred on Friday while I was covering Mrs. L's study hall (she owes me BIG TIME!):
Giggly Girl #1: Ohmygod. (giggles) Did you watch Glee this week??
Me: (pricks up ears; tries to appear uninterested)
GG#2: Ohmygod, yesss! (giggles) It was so, so awesome. Wasn't it, like, the best ever?
GG#1: Totally. But you know the only thing that sucked? That Blaine didn't turn out to be straight.
Me: (makes unintelligible, horrified wheezing sound)
GG#2: I know! I was, like, so pissed off. He and Rachel would make the cutest coupl-
Me: THERE WILL BE NO TALKING DURING STUDY HALL!!!
GG#1: Um, I thought you said that we could talk quietly as long as we-
Me: Sorry. Changed my mind. I'm working on some extremely important FANFICTION paperwork and your INSANE FANGIRL BLASPHEMY IS MAKING ME WANT TO RUTHLESSLY DESTROY YOU IN A SHIPPING WAR conversation is distracting me.
Me: (goes back to writing "Warblerections," pausing every so often to glare pointedly at blasphemous giggly girls)
The End