AN: I hope you guys enjoy this story. It starts from episode 9, Special Education, and goes from there. It will focus, of course, on Blaine and Kurt, but I think Pavarotti is planning on hogging the spotlight. Chirp.

Special thanks to GraniaMhaol, who kindly offered to beta this for me. Without her help, you would have to suffer from my constant mistakes and awkward words. She takes the bullet for us, guys.

This story is based on Glee's characters, Glee's general plotline (for now), and FreePavarotti's tweets (Or some of them, or the IDEA of Pavarotti), thus, the Disclaimer stands as follows: I do not own Glee's characters, nor the plotline, not even Pavarotti, and much less FreePavarotti's twitter. I only own this story, which is made for fan purposes only, and no money is or shall be gained from this. 'Nuff said, read, chirp and enjoy!

Ruffled Feathers


I'm not saying this isn't a nice setting, don't get me wrong. I think the tree with the long, twisted branches is a nice touch: it offers a lot of nest locations and privacy, but doesn't let you get isolated, which is good. There's a lot of space for flying around without bumping into anyone, too. And there's good lighting. And a fantastic view to the Dalton gardens through the glass. All I'm saying is that, while we can agree that this is a very nice setting, it gets kind of boring. Once in a while, I would love to try those rose bushes further north. They look really leafy, and classy. They would make a lovely nest.

All the Warblers are in frenzy since this morning, and I for once don't get what the big deal is. Someone heard from a student that a new kid was arriving, and there are high chances that he'll make it as a Warbler. This means, of course, that one of us is getting picked for him. It means a great deal to be picked, as you can probably guess, since we were raised sorely for that purpose. All I see of this whole tradition, though, is getting into a smaller cage and being cared by a teenager human who probably has no idea how to keep one of us properly alive. I think it's actually kind of scary.

The only thing that keeps me calm about it today is being busy with my constant fret over this one feather that won't stay put on my left wing, and the fact that I know the human whos duty it is to pick one of us this time. In proper Warbler tradition, the last Warbler incorporated into their ranks has to pick the bird for the new kid, and I really like Blaine. He's actually kind of cool, for a human, and he brings Domingo often to visit his bird pals, letting him fly relatively free around this place, before taking him back with him. And he knows how to take care of birds. I mean, Domingo looks properly groomed every time he visits, and he chirps only awesome things about him, minus the one or two bad habits, but who hasn't got some, really? So he'll make sure to warn the new kid, right? He'll make sure that the bird he picks is well taken care of, and Domingo is really popular around here, so he'll tell us if he knows something is not going well. We could like, form a warbler rebellion of something.

Ah, I can already see him heading this way through campus. I could recognize that prim trot anywhere, and he has his usual super adorable smile. It's really hard not to like him. 'Specially his hair, seriously, it looks like it could be a wonderful nesting place. With only some minor changes that involve a lot less gel.

Hm, pity. He didn't bring Domingo along this time.

And this feather simply won't stay put! I'm going to hurt myself with my own beak, I swear!

Remember what I said about being ok this time because it was Blaine, and he would pick a good candidate? Well, he picked me. And it's most definitely NOT ok. I'm fretting. I'm panicking. I'm downright suffering from a full blown hysteria right now! What in the world am I going to do! I don't even know this new kid! What if he starves me to death? What if he is really messy and forgets to clean my cage? What if he doesn't like me!

"You sure sound excited. Ready to meet your new Warbler human counterpart?" He said, with that smiled I told you about, which is really hard not to like, but seriously, this guy is so oblivious to my panic, it's not even funny.

"I feel like smacking you right now, Blaine. If I had hands, I most definitely would," I chirp in the most acid tone I can manage, which I figured long ago it didn't made much of a difference to human ears. But here's hoping, right?

"Don't worry, you'll get a keeper. Be good to him, ok? He's had a hard time, you'll be good company. I'd like to stay in this guy's good side, you know?" He added, in a conspiratorial tone, and my curiosity was piqued. What can I say? I like a good gossip.

"Well, you are always welcome to bring Domingo to play. I sure would like someone to chat with," I replied, trying desperately to fix my strayed feather in a last and desperate try to look at my best. It was rather futile.

"And now let's welcome the newest addition to the warblers, Kurt Hummel!"

Finally! They had me in this table for minutes now, and no one would discuss anything about the new kid except for things that mattered little to me. Sure, it was nice to know the kid could sing such a high and unusual range, it would make a good addition to my cheerful tone, but that wasn't what I needed to know about the boy at all. I needed some sort of reassurance that my future would be somehow protected, and not left in the hands of some rampant and uncaring teenaged human.

And as far as first impressions went, this Kurt Hummel looked… Ok.

His clothes looked fine, so he seemed rather tidy. Boy did the kid look nervous, though. I couldn't blame him, I was a nervous wreck myself, I can't even stand on my twig and keep balance, I've been reduced to prancing around the floor of my golden cage.

"And in our oldest tradition for our newest warbler, an actual warbler." That's me alright, and now the moment I've been waiting for…

"Kurt, meet Pavarotti." I turned my head to look at Blaine, almost emitting a laughing chirp of disbelief. Pavarotti, that's what he's naming me? I heard about the three Tenors from Domingo, you know? I'm not ignorant. Blaine really wants to be liked by this new kid. I can't help but wonder why. I don't really mind the name, but I bet Domingo will laugh at me. In a good way, he'll probably joke about us finding ourselves a Carreras and make the trio complete. We're kind of friends, I guess.

"This bird is a member of an unbroken line of canaries who have been at Dalton since 1891." I puffed out my chest with pride at the boy's words, even if I wasn't all that big on the whole idea of legacy and tradition, but I figured I might as well play the part, with all eyes on me. "It's your job to take care of him so he can live to carry on the warbler legacy."

"And so I can, you know, live, too," I added, thinking that I didn't care that much about carrying any sort of legacy, but I was rather attached to my life. I worried at the frightened look this Kurt kid wore. Would he really be up to the job of taking care of a delicate and demanding warbler such as myself?

"Protect him. That bird is your voice." Yes, it sounds really important if you say it like that, guy with the weird wooden tool. Watch the cage, Kurt, unstable footing here. Oh, I think the anxiety is getting to me. At least he has a nice smile.

"Hey, I'll bring him to work with me." Oooh, so I'm not getting stuck into a room forever, nice. I like this kid already. "Weekends I volunteer at a stray cat rescue."

…What! He's laughing. That means he's joking right? Right? Why is nobody laughing? Why is everyone so serious, he can't possibly mean that, can he? "It's at the bottom of a coal mine."

"You're completely insane!" I chirped, aggravated. I can't live in that environment! I need peace, and being taken care of, and light and good air and most definitely NOT having those fur balls of insane elliptical pupils staring at me hungrily and hissing and… Oh god I think I worked myself into a panic attack again.

"That was a joke. I-I don't, I don't work at a coal mine." Yes, thank you for the almost heart attack, Kurt. I'll keep your brand of humor in mind. Blaine's laughing? I'll have to have a talk with Domingo. What will become of us, under the care of these creatures!

And that boy is unhealthily attached to that wooden thing. It's making my head pound every time he hits it.

"Let the council come to order. Today we discuss the set list for sectionals."

"Council?" Ahh solid surface under my cage, that's good. Good boy, Kurt. I forgive you for your terrible attempt at humor back there.

"We don't have a director. Every year, we elect three upperclassmen to lead the group. But don't worry, we all get a say." Blaine explained, and I actually started to pay attention to how the whole thing works. I heard from the others how the human Warblers were something like a flock of humans that got together to chirp tunes at other people to entertain them, and they compete to see who chirps better. It all sounded very incoherent to me, but considering I'm contemplating my future days in cohabitation with one of them, I might as well start learning. And I don't know what a director is, but it sounds like these guys have some sort of strange method for picking a leader, which seems to be more than one, and I can't see how that could work, but yes, humans are strange. The idea of teenagers without a leader still does little to help my peace of mind, just saying.

"Oh, fantastic. I have a lot of ideas. Warblers, if I may?" Not my call, but you may. I for one can't wait to see what you are like, considering we're stuck together forever. "Now, I can't deny that the warblers' vocals are absolutely dreamy—" Understatement of the year, but go on. "But I believe our set for sectionals this year should have a little more showbiz panache. I think we should open with "Rio" by Duran Duran." That's a human song, right? I'm not well versed in human music, but maybe we could hear it and see what you mean?

"Uh, the council is responsible for song selection." I turned my little head to the side, trying to frown at the guy with the amiable smile with my small, black, beady and evidently not much intimidating eyes. I could see the smile and excitement fading from my new human buddy and, what can I say? I bond quickly. I feel protective now.

"But we appreciate your enthusiasm, Kurt. It'll come in handy one day when you're sitting behind this desk." Oh. So the desk is some sort of leadership mark or something like that? I'm getting confused by humans.

"Now, I propose we do our entire set at sectionals in eight-part harmony."

And now it's back to talk about things that I absolutely will not pretend to even understand. I feel my cage being raised, and I turn around as much as I can without falling. I've been having an awful balance lately. Must be the weather.

Aww, look at that face! He was all smiles a few seconds ago and now I can see he's shaken, if the rattling of my cage is any sign.

Don't worry, buddy. We can hear the song and practice together. I don't even know what sectionals are, anyway, I won't care.

Oh and for the love of nature, put me down somewhere stable before I faint. I think I need to see a doctor.

Dalton from inside is actually kind of nice. It has very warm decorations, and I think I already spotted about thirty awesome nesting spots, and we only walked down a few hallways. I think we're heading for Kurt's room, but he hasn't said anything since the warbler reunion, and I think what the others said has gotten to him. I need to remind myself of what Blaine said, that this kid is new, and had a rough time. Maybe I can cheer him up with my singing voice?

Ohh the room looks nice! There's a lot of boxes lying around, looks like he has his belongings there. I wonder if he has anything that will help improve my cage. He's placing me next to the window, smart guy, but it's also kind of sad. I want to go out there. Don't look now, but I'm trying to surreptitiously analyze the latch of my trapdoor. It looks easy to lift, maybe it's worth a try, just to get a nice flight and come back, of course. Wouldn't want to ruin the Warbler's perfect record of being the best raised birds.

He's looking out the window too, and I wonder for a second if he wants to go outside as well. It's a bit chilly, though. Maybe we should stay inside? Or maybe he's just really down about his idea being shot down like that.

"Hey, don't worry," I chirped, trying to lift the mood. "I used to have the same problems with my feathered pals. They would always refuse my ideas for nesting places, saying they were too extravagant. They said making a nest of glittering wool was too much. I digress, but anyway, they'll come around." He looked at me after that and if anything, he looked even more worried than before. I might need to get better at this whole cheering up, I think.

"How in the world am I supposed to take care of you, Pavarotti?" For a moment there, I panicked again. But he looked worried, so he was probably going to figure it out sooner or later, right? If he cared enough to be worried about it, I mean.

"I was kind of hoping you would solve that," I chirped, a bit huffy. Maybe it's not the best moment to tell him I'm feeling rather under the weather lately?

"Well, that's what Google is for, right?" He said, laughing a bit, and I chirped a small laughter, mostly to be a good pal. I have absolutely no idea what "Google" is supposed to be, or how could it possibly help us. He opened a flat device that looked like one of those human things, what was the name again?

Ah, computers. I started to pay more attention when an image of a yellow warbler came up on the upper half of the object.

"Oh, look at that. They always take photos of the pretty ones," I said, a little envious, and I self consciously tried to make that stray feather of mine less noticeable.

"Ok, fresh water every day, proper food, regular cleaning of the cage, toys, and room to spread the wings," he listed. I particularly liked the mention of toys. I'm currently lacking in the decoration department. I only have this branch, and it doesn't provide much amusement. He turned to me and smiled, and I couldn't help but twist my head to the side, expectant, and thinking his smile and eyes were rather pretty.

"Sounds fairly simple!"

Oh, you say that now, Kurt. You haven't really met me yet.

I mean, I promised Blaine to be a good pet and everything, but I never signed anything about changing who I am.

I have my eyes set on that stray wool on your duvet, and my door trap looks really easy to lift.