by crystallic rain
Notes: There's a lot of want for Cheerio!Kurt and football!Blaine going around, so.. I thought I'd switch it up. Enjoy. (:
It had started out as a simple conversation. Now that Blaine was in McKinley, he was trying to slowly involve himself in the school. Glee Club was the obvious choice, and he was quickly accepted. However, he was hoping for something a little more.
Kurt's eyes brightened and the corners of his lips curled up, signaling that he had an idea. At this, Blaine raised his eyebrows expectantly. It was then that Kurt had mentioned football tryouts were fast approaching, and that just a few days later, there would be auditions for Cheerios.
And, well, Blaine did love football, and Kurt had mentioned once that he'd been a Cheerio.
So they'd come to the agreement that one of them would be one, and the other would be the other.
Blaine hadn't considered the looser terms of the agreement until after he saw Kurt strutting onto the field.
The darker-haired boy tilted his head slightly. "Are you here for me?" he asked.
Kurt merely smiled. "Oh, no," he said.
Blaine frowned slightly. "Kurt..."
"Dude, did he never tell you?" Blaine turned to Finn, who was also on the field, as Coach Bieste had once again made it necessary to re-try for the team. "Kurt was on the team in sophomore year."
Puck was at Finn's shoulder. "He was pretty sick at it, but..."
"But that was before you stopped throwing me into dumpsters," Kurt offered.
Almost immediately Blaine hooked his hand around Kurt's elbow, and dragged him away from the other boys. Kurt was frowning at him.
"I—I thought you were trying for the Cheerios, Kurt," Blaine hissed, and Kurt arched an eyebrow.
"I will," he said. "If I don't make the football team."
"Blaine," Kurt sighed. "I really thought this through. Last year, I was named prom queen. Becoming a Cheerio would only fuel their argument that I'm not truly a male, no matter how many other guys are on the team. And besides, Finn said that the team was looking for a kicker. Last year, the biggest problem the team had was with field goals, and if I could earn my spot back and help the team win a second championship... maybe they wouldn't hate me so much."
"These are the guys that made your life hell, Kurt," Blaine said gently, but Kurt only sighed again.
"Yeah, they did," he said. "But thanks to Karofsky and Santana, the hatred they showed by brute force has completely disappeared. Maybe I can earn that letterman jacket—though god knows I'd never wear it because it's terribly unfashionable. But maybe then I could be part of a team more than just glee club. Maybe this will be that final little step I can take to truly make things better for me. For both of us."
There was a moment of silence, and Kurt merely frowned. "Why do you still look so down about this?"
Blaine glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough everyone else was distracted amongst themselves. He pulled Kurt close to him, breathing in his ear, "Honestly, I was really liking the idea of you in a cheerleading uniform."
Kurt laughed, pressing a kiss to Blaine's lips, quick and chaste. "Did you think Coach Sylvester let us borrow them? Please, I had to buy that uniform," he said with a smirk. "I still have it. It's hanging in my closet."
"If I say that I don't believe you, will you show me?" Blaine asked cheekily, and Kurt smacked him playfully on the arm.
Blaine's sneakers squeaked slightly on the polished gymnasium floor. He should have seen it coming. Really, he should have.
The moment that Kurt had bounced onto that field, he should have known that he would be the one who would end up auditioning for the Cheerios. But he wasn't about to back down. He'd made the deal with Kurt, and he was determined to keep his end of the bargain.
He'd have to try his best to be a cheerleader.
The moment he stepped into the center of the floor, Sue Sylvester shook her head and held up her hand. "I'm stopping you right now," she said, "on the grounds that you aren't even a McKinley student. Not that that's the first time this has happened in one of my Cheerio tryouts—"
"With all due respect, Coach," Blaine said quickly, "I am a McKinley student. I transferred here from Dalton to be with Kurt, and—"
"Sweet Porcelain," she muttered under her breath, and Blaine merely raised an eyebrow. "Very well, Tom Thumb, go on."
The woman watched him carefully as he did the routine Kurt had helped him prepare, and the moment he finished, he checked her face for any sign of approval or disgust, but she remained expressionless. She simply put on her reading glasses, glancing back at some of her notes, then back at the boy.
"Tell me, Blaine Warbler—"
"Actually, it's Anderson—"
"I don't really care," she said plainly. "So tell me, why are you trying to be one of my Cheerios? And don't tell me it's because of how amazing they are, because I already know that."
Blaine swallowed. "I made a deal with Kurt, that should one of us make the football team, the other would try out for Cheerio," he admitted, and Sue pulled off her reading glasses with a smirk.
"Well-played on his part," she said. "Fine. Samwise, you're on the team. On one condition." She raised her eyes slightly to the top of his head. "You wash out every ridiculous ounce of margarine in your hair, and you never let it return, because I'm pretty sure it's worse than Schuester's."
Blaine frowned in the mirror on the locker room wall, hopelessly tugging and pushing at his hair, trying to make it a little less unsightly. He sighed, wishing he had his tub of styling gel, but he'd promised that he wouldn't touch it anymore. 'For the sake of the team and Sue Sylvester's sanity', or something like that.
"I'm a little jealous that Coach Sylvester convinced you so quickly to stop using product when I never could." Blaine whipped around, his boyfriend entering the deserted locker room, still in his practice gear. Blaine forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight because, dear god, his boyfriend looked amazing.
"You use product," Blaine shrugged, trying to sound casual as he gaped at his boyfriend, a little surprised at just how good the boy looked in his gear. But then again, no, he wasn't surprised because, not only did Kurt make anything look good, but Blaine always did have a bit of a thing for football players (at least, the hot ones, not that ones that were 300 pounds with tattoos on their shaved heads). He could even honestly compare this moment, with the bead of sweat sliding down Kurt's forehead, making its way down the side of his face, to the first time he'd paid a visit to the Hummel garage over the summer, where Kurt said he was working (he assumed he'd find his boyfriend doing paperwork for his father, not wearing overalls, a small smudge of grease on his flawless skin—but damn his boyfriend looked really kind of sexy when he was a little dirtied up).
"I use it well," Kurt said haughtily adjusting his hair meticulously as he always did. "Don't come near me right now, though, I'm disgusting."
Quickly Blaine took the taller boy into his arms, and Kurt made a disgruntled noise.
"Blaine," he murmured. "I look and smell awful right now, and—"
But Blaine merely covered his mouth with his, kissing him hungrily. "You don't know what you're doing to me," he groaned.
Kurt smirked. "Oh, I don't know about that," he mumbled, pulling away slightly. "I kind of really like my view as well..."
"If it wasn't for this stupid hair—"
"I like it," Kurt repeated, his hand on the back of Blaine's neck twitching ever-so-slightly. "Now I can do this properly..."
At last his hand moved up into Blaine's curls, tangling his fingers in them. Blaine hummed softly and moved in to kiss Kurt hard on the mouth once more, causing the other boy to give his hair a light tug. Again, Blaine groaned.
"Maybe," he breathed out, "I could get used to this."
Kurt smiled. "Oh, I'll make sure you do."