A/N: I did this for Star Trek and now I've done it for Glee:D Basically, I'd ask people on lj to prompt me a letter of the alphabet. I'd then write a 100-150 word drabble based on that prompt, using every letter except for the one being prompted. Seriously fun and challenging.

The Glee Alphabet

A: Ace (prompter: shellieholmes)

It's the best kind of bonding experience, I'm sure. Well, the best experience which involves most everyone involved loosing lots of money. Lucky for these boys they're so rich.

Me, though, I don't need luck. Luck is for those with no skill, my mom used to tell me. Up until now I've mostly come out on top. Poker night's where I get roughly one third of my monthly income. Wes detests me for it.

But tonight is something different.

"Is this good?"

Kurt's expression is innocent, but there's something sinister behind it. No wonder, since he's just won his third round of the evening. I grudgingly fold.

Wes just snickers. Jerk.

B: Beautiful (prompter: hazyjane)

It's kind of weird how Kurt can go from 'Precious moments doll' to 'hot like Mexico' with a simple change of hairstyle or a different pair of pants. The good kind of weird though. He's ridiculously versatile, really. I'm pretty sure that in my roughly thousand different rants to Wes and David centering around Kurt, I've used every positive adjective under the sun.

Cute. Hot. Pretty. Sexy…


I'm smitten, I know. It's really hard to care though when Kurt smiles that sweet smile of his I swear I've only ever seen directed at me, or when he stretches and his shirt lifts to show just the smallest sliver of pale, perfect skin…

God, I'm pathetic.

C: Cry (prompter: dante_s_hell)

In all five months Kurt had known Blaine, the older boy had never let down his shields. He was always poised and nothing seemed to ruffle him. It was both frustrating and a little worrying. Surely it's impossible for anyone to be put together all the time?

Kurt felt there had to be something hiding underneath, but he never really imagined he'd get to see it.

But there he was, in Blaine's dorm room, with a red-eyed, openly weeping Blaine.

Slowly, Kurt sat down next to Blaine and gingerly put his arms around him. Blaine sobbed into his shoulder and Kurt felt his heart break a little. He wanted to find whoever did this and hurt them.

But for now, he'd be fine with just being there for Blaine.

D: Duet (prompter: scripps)

Their voices mix so perfectly together, silky-smooth like velvet. Never before has Kurt felt this unity singing with anyone, he now finally recognizes what true harmony means. It's not even a love song, but nonetheless Kurt has never felt this close to Blaine before.

Kurt can practically feel their relationship changing with every note. He's not sure how, only that it's what he's been waiting for since he first met Blaine. He can tell the feeling is mutual.

The final note seems to go on forever, but it finally trails off, leaving two teenage boys in love in its wake.

E: Electric (prompter: shellieholmes)

It's just a touch. I'm just holding his hand, kind of awkwardly I might add (why did I grab his right hand with my right hand?). I'm just doing it to show him to our choir room, so it's not as if it's romantic or anything. I hardly know this kid at all.

But still… just holding his hand is making sparks shoot up and down my arm, just touching him is making my soul sing. Which sounds kind of stupid now that I think about it that way, but it also sounds right.

Kurt grasps my hand tightly and I grin. So right.

F: Forever
(prompter: crazedwolf)

They don't talk about it. It's not necessary really, not since that third date when they laid the ground rules. Neither Kurt nor Blaine has had much experience when it comes to relationships, but they've yet to run into a problem that they can't solve with a simple look or a kiss.

It's a little strange, Kurt has to admit. This connection is something completely new to him. Something about Blaine makes everything so easy, but not in a bad way. Right when everything else seems to be going wrong, Blaine is there, a steady, reassuring presence and Kurt knows it's mutual.

No, they don't talk about it. But that doesn't mean that they don't both know exactly what it is.

G: GaGa (prompter: musiclover48)

It starts as payback. Blaine's had Katy Perry's newest album loudly on repeat in their dorm room for the past few days, despite (or maybe because of) Kurt's multiple protests. Kurt just wants to return the favor.

The Fame is a much superior record anyway, so really, Blaine should be thankful. And he is. But not for the reasons Kurt thinks.

Because Kurt always, always dances to The Fame. And really, Blaine doesn't know whether to thank the Lord or the devil for those sinful, unbearably sexy hip movements. When he eventually tells Kurt so, in between lustful kisses, the taller boy smirks.

"Thank Mama Monster."

H: Hands (prompter: naderegen)

It's a rainy day.

Usually I would worry about getting my new Armani coat wet. Now I'm pressed to feel any emotions at all. I'm just… numb.

Blaine's standing next to me as it goes down. Finn and Carol are standing opposite us, Finn clinging to Carol's arm like a lifeline.

I close my eyes and struggle to stay standing against a sudden wave of pain and grief, and now I'm not so numb anymore. I can't do it. Not again. I try to distance myself – it's just one more casket.

But it's not. It's my dad. My dad is in a casket, being lowered into a wet, soggy ground.

I let out a strangled sob and Blaine moves closer, a warm, solid, comforting presence. A new emotion overtakes me, one I didn't image I'd ever feel again and I allow myself to cry. I feel safe.

I: Italian
(prompter: bathycolpian)

"How's your pasta?"

"Okay. Sort of bland, probably needs more salt. How 'bout your lasagna?"

"Hot. Cheesy."


Eyes meet across the table. They laugh nervously.

"Why are we so awkward?"

"Don't ask me. We've gone out to lunch together before, haven't we?"

"But those weren't dates."

Another short bout of awkward laughter.



"Do you want to get desert? Some gelato?"

"No thanks. We should probably head back to Dalton."



"…We'll probably do better on the second date."

"Probably," Kurt agreed. "Let's just hope the Warblers don't follow us then, too."

J: Julie Andrews (prompter: naderegen)

"They do those here?"

Kurt looks from his homework at Blaine, who is reading a newspaper. "Do what?"

Blaine gestures at the paper. "Oh, there's an ad in here for a Sound of Music sing-along next month. I didn't realize they held these in small towns."

Kurt gaped at his boyfriend. How could he not know about the Sound of Music sing-along? Had his assurance that he and Blaine were soul mates been a rash verdict after all?

"What?" Blaine asked.

"We are going," Kurt decided.


"No buts."

"…do I have to wear a costume?"

Kurt grinned, his victory assured. "As long as you don't show up in your uniform, it's fine."

K: King (prompter: mannadisanicola)

It was a while before I really believed it, but Blaine was right. The Warblers weren't just considered cool at Dalton, they were the most popular school club. Apparently Dalton was some sort of mirror world in which talent was valued over the ability to beat people into a bloody pulp.

It was a refreshing change of pace, I'll admit.

And Blaine, being the Warblers' unofficial front man, practically ruled the student body. Everybody loved him. It didn't hurt that he was one of the most genuinely nice people you'll ever meet. If Dalton had to be a monarchy, it couldn't have had a better leader.

L: Lucky (prompter: jan_rea)

"Good morning," I chirped and pinched Kurt's arm.

Kurt smacked me.

"Ow, what was that for?" I whined.

"You pinched me!"

I rubbed my poor head. "Yeah, but I had the right to. It's St. Patrick's Day and you're not wearing any green."

"Oh." Kurt gave me an once-over. "Neither are you!"

I unbuttoned my shirt to show him my bright green 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' t-shirt underneath.

"You're Irish?" Kurt asked confused.

I grinned. "My dad is."

Kurt seemed to consider this. Then he smirked and before I knew, he had bent forward and given me a soft peck on the cheek.

My face reddened.

"I'd give you a proper kiss," Kurt said with a shrug, "but, since you're just part Irish…"

I cursed my Asian heritage.

M: Menagerie
(prompter: bathycolpian)

"You are such a dork," Kurt said affectionately.

"Hush, it's starting," Blaine said. The two boys curled up on the sofa and turned their attention to the television.

They sat in relative silence for a good half hour before Kurt began to fidget.

"This is boring," he whined. "The production values are terrible, the plot is stupid and why is that guy in a wheelchair and why should I care?"

"You just haven't given it a proper chance yet," Blaine protested.

Kurt pouted.

Another half-hour passed by before he spoke again.

"You said this show aired in the sixties, right?"

Blaine nodded.

Kurt frowned. "How could they get away with that back then?"


"Spock and Kirk," Kurt said as if it were obvious. And, as Blaine turned to the screen to catch Kirk grinning dopily at his First Officer, it kind of was.

"It's all subtext," he answered.

"It's not very subtle."

"No it is not."

N: Nerves (prompter: scripps)

I shuffled my feet as I waited for Kurt to wake up. This was it. The big day.

My palms were sweaty, my hair a mess. I briefly thought about Mercedes, who had helped me with the set up, what to say, where to say it, etc. If Kurt said yes, I'd gladly pay her back with my soul.

Speak of the devil; Kurt exited the bedroom, his eyes bleary. His hair was perfectly coiffed though, as if he'd ever come out otherwise.


"Hmm?" He walked over to the coffee maker.

I had a whole speech ready. It was beautiful. Epic, really.

But I just blurted it out.

"Will you marry me?"

Kurt stared at me. I stared back.

Slowly, he smiled, that sweet, special smile reserved just for me. "Do you have to ask?"

O: Own/Obedient
(prompter: jan_rea)

He was a beautiful specimen. Silky, black hair that curled just the right way and big, bright eyes. He had muscles, but they were lean, and hardly any fat at all. He'd be playful but submissive, and dependable. A perfect first pet.

"I'll take him," Kurt decided.

The cashier seemed happy with this. "A fantastic pick. He is purebred, well trained and very friendly."

"And expensive as well," Kurt added sarcastically.

"Well, naturally. Can't just give him away, can I?"

Kurt patted the animal's head. It leaned in and hummed, clearly pleased with its new master. "What's his name?" Kurt asked, already taken with his pet.


Kurt smiled. "Blaine," he repeated. "It suits him."

P: Party (prompter: dante_s_hell)

Kurt is wasted.

It's okay though, because really he's meant to be. It's his informal 'initiation' into the Warblers and as far as he can tell, almost every one of them is just as drunk as he is.

But not Blaine, as Kurt soon discovers.

"We should make out," Kurt tells the older teen determinedly. He then immediately doubles over the nearest trashcan and hurls. He hears Blaine say something unintelligible and the next he knows he's being half-dragged, half-carried out of the room.

"I don' wanna leave," Kurt whines.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," Blaine tells him. "If you're drunk enough to be retching and randomly asking boys to make out with you-"

"Not boys," Kurt cuts in, "you."

"Oh." A beat. "Well, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

Kurt quietly agrees. He hasn't made out much before, but he imagines it's a lot better when one's mouth doesn't taste like vomit.

Q: Queen
(prompter: mannadisanicola)

Wes blamed David. He blamed David for a lot of things.

Make the new kid feel welcome, he said. You were kind of an asshole to him, he said. We need more theatricality to beat New Directions, he said, so this way we'll be killing two birds with one stone.

Look, Wes was all for team spirit and making everyone feel needed and all, and he genuinely did like Kurt, but did they seriously have to let him take over the costume department? Because the Warblers had a fairly big budget, but the kid was doing a good job of completely obliterating said budget, and he hadn't even gotten to the footwear yet.

Plus, they'd look ridiculous. No one could pull off the bright, glittery, exotic-feather look and still keep their dignity intact. No one.

R: Rendezvous
(prompter: xxxwicked)

The blindfold on my face feels loose and I know that if I nudge it just a bit, I'll be able to see. I don't give in the temptation though, because I know Blaine's spent at least a week planning this night.

He leads me down some steps and now we have left the building, judging by the light wind I feel blowing past my head.

"Wait," Blaine says gleefully. He lets go of my hand and I shuffle my feet, feeling a little lost.

The blindfold is suddenly yanked off and I squeeze my eyes shut, getting used to the light. When I open them again I see a yellow blanket laid down on the lawn, with a picnic basket on top.

I smile at Blaine. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," he says dismissively. "But if you need one, happy 22nd of May."

S: Safe
(prompter: crazedwolf)

He didn't really feel caged. Not anymore. Fitting in proved natural once he didn't fight it and the protection he gained turned out to be well worth the price he paid to get it.

He fully planned on returning to McKinley though. The people there needed him more than the people at Dalton did, and frankly, Kurt loved that they did. He needed to regroup and feel protected for a while, but then he'd be back, tougher and prouder than ever.

For now though, he enjoyed that relative feeling of wellbeing Dalton provided. Who knew when he'd have it again?

T: Tied (prompter: hazyjane)

I can feel his gaze on me. He's always around, whenever I'm walking down a hallway or across school grounds. His eyes follow me even when he's nowhere close.

I feel sullied. Unclean. How can Blaine bear being around me? He should be sickened by me. I know I am.

I have dreams where I'm incapable of moving even one inch, as he advances on me and he grins and I know I'll never be safe again.

He approaches me in school, in a crowded hallway. He lays one finger on me, a single finger, and I'm shaking. I've never been so scared in my life. People shuffle by and no one sees us.

I am helpless.

U: Understanding (prompter: spockollama)

It's a cold, the doctor tells me. It'll be gone within a week and I'll be able to talk and sing again.

I feel helpless and annoyed with my condition. Losing my voice has always been one of my worst nightmares. Rachel's panic last year makes a lot more sense to me now.

The only bright side is that Blaine is being even nicer than normal (which I didn't even think was possible). He brings me my homework, along with chicken noodles and ice cream and then he stays and watches old Disney movies with me. He's the only person I let inside my room, since trying to talk to people sans a voice can get pretty tiring pretty fast. Blaine's different, he can tell exactly what I want and I don't even have to say it.

It's times like this I really love having a boyfriend.

V: Volcano (prompter: pyroclastic)

Film nights with the Warblers were usually something of a catastrophe. Cram twenty teenage boys in one room for an entire night, with only about half of the snacks needed to feed them all and really, you're just asking for it. But the films picked were usually good choices.

But not tonight.

"Why are we watching a bad disaster film from the 90s?" Kurt asked.

"Because it's hilariously awful," Blaine responded, spewing small kernels of popcorn as he spoke. Kurt wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "And because Wes has an unhealthy obsession with Tommy Lee Jones."

"Do not!"

"Search you heart, you know it to be true!"

Still, it wasn't all bad. Once Blaine finished the pop corn and it was safe to come within four feet of him again, Kurt could spend the night cuddling his boyfriend.

W: Whenever
(prompter: museofpics)

Blaine enters the dorm room to an interesting sight.

Kurt is dancing, and David is sitting on the bed, concentrating on Blaine's boyfriend's hips in a manner Blaine'd probably castrate him for if not for the fact that David is completely, irrevocably straight.


Kurt looks up, just noticing him. He turns of the music (is that Shakira?) and nods in greeting. "You're early."

"Yeah, I finished my project sooner than expected…" Blaine must look confused, because Kurt takes mercy on him.

"I'm teaching David to dance," he explains.

"It's for soccer practice," David adds earnestly.

"I tried to teach him the Single Ladies dance, but he didn't really get it," Kurt says. "So I'm using Shakira as a substitute."

Blaine decides it's probably best that he doesn't understand it.

X: X-Ray
(prompter: anonymous)

"Are you nervous?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not really. I've twisted my ankle before; this is sort of similar."

Kurt bit his lip. "But your arm might be broken."

"It's no big deal," Blaine dismissed it and leaned on his boyfriend's shoulder. They had been waiting to see the doctor for an hour now, and he was getting tired. Probably had something to do with those pain-meds he'd taken before coming here.

"You'd better not drool on my blazer," Kurt threatened.

Blaine closed his eyes. "I won't." Something occurred to him. "Hey Kurt?"


"If my arm is broken, will you still love me?"

Kurt laughed at his very serious concern. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I won't be able to play the guitar and serenade you."

Kurt patted his hair comfortingly. "You'll be able to serenade me fine with just your voice. And even if you couldn't, I'd still love you."

Blaine smiled sleepily. "Yeah?"


Y: Yelling
(prompter: sinkwriter)

It's something all couples go through, he tells himself. When spending one's life with someone else, a little clashing is natural. It is.

It's killing him inside though, all the arguing, the screaming and the insults. When not shouting at Kurt, Blaine is apologizing and Kurt knows he feels awful, but it's not enough. He misses their old, effortless relationship. It used to be so simple; all arguments were solved with a look or a kiss and then he'd be more in love with Blaine than ever. Right now it takes effort not to hate him.

He wants to work it out though, and he knows Blaine does too. Kurt clings to that and hopes. Their relationship is still forever; the road to getting there is just a little rougher than expected. Despite it all, Kurt just can't imagine his life without Blaine in it.

Z: Zombie
(prompter: pyroclastic)

"The apocalypse?"

Kurt finished inspecting his flamethrower. Functioning and fabulous (painted in the Dalton colors, never let it be said that Kurt Hummel did not have school spirit). "Get with the program, Blaine. It's been nearly three hours since it started."


"It's fun," David said cheerfully. "We get to use hand-grenades. Do you want one?"

Blaine ignored his friend's outstretched arm. "Is no one else worried about this?"

"We finished panicking two hours and forty-five minutes ago," Wes told him. "Now we're in the lock-and-load phase. We'll be heading out soon though, if you're not gonna take one of David's hand-grenades you'll need some other weapon."

"…I have a baseball bat," Blaine said weakly.

"Perfect," Kurt intoned. "Are we ready?"

"Ready," Wes said, grabbing his sniper rifle.

David grinned. "The countless hours I spent playing Dead Rising 2 instead of studying will not have been in vain."