Hi, everyone! This is littlemusings. This is the first in a series of one-shots/episodes of our favorite couple, Klaine (with splashes of our other lovable Glee pairings as well). I'll be updating this either every other day or at least once a week with a new little tale about our boys! I hope you guys enjoy. Each chapter will be completely random - some will be based on a song or whatever comes to mind.
I got inspiration for this first chapter from listening to Ingrid Michaelson's adorable and sweet song, 'The Way I Am' and the lack of focus on Dalton/Klaine after Silly Love Songs. I wanted to explore their feelings after Kurt told Blaine that he thought Bee wanted to serenade him on Valentine's Day. This is just a little bit before Original Song...probably a few days before Pavarotti (/sob) died and Kurt sang 'Blackbird', in which Blaine starts to sort of *feel* something for our boy, Kurt and attempts to explain how he feels. This is before Blaine's amazing epiphany. Enjoy!
(Oh, and I used Google Translator for the parts that are in French. Please, bear with me. I have no knowledge of the French language. Haha.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, there would be more Kloulder moments. And rainbows. And...and just a lot of other crack!things.
I. Of French and Notebooks
Time Frame: Pre-Kliss / Pre-RIP Pavarotti and Born This Way / Post-Silly Love Songs
I love the way you say good morning
And you take me the way I am
Ingrid Michaelson, 'The Way I Am'
Kurt Hummel was in love. It was obvious – Mercedes knew it, Mr. Schue knew it (dear Gaga), Wes, David, and the other Warblers obviously knew it – everyone knew, period. He tried to deny it, of course (Who the heck could resist Blaine?), but it was impossible to do so. He was in love with Blaine Anderson. Madly in love, it seemed. And there he was, sitting in the junior commons of Dalton Academy, supposedly doing his homework during lunch break.
Except, he wasn't. He gazed longingly at the two names he had written in his leather planner:
Kurt + Blaine
Oh, yes, he was in love. (Why else would I be doodling his name with mine?)
"Good morning, Kurt."
(Oh. My. God.)
Kurt looked up and saw Blaine Anderson in all his glory, smiling down on him. It took all of his willpower not to blush – Blaine was making it very difficult not to do so. He immediately sat up in his seat, slamming his notebook shut—God forbid Blaine saw his heart doodles—and nodded curtly, his lips pursed in a nervous smile.
"Good morning to you too, Blaine," he said brightly. (I'm so stupid. Say something else, dummy!)
"You look a bit tired. What time did you get up to get to school today?" the shorter boy asked, leaning against the wall by Kurt's armchair. (This is awkward. This is so awkward. Oh my McQueen, we're the only ones in here – damn it!)
"Five. I had to get out of the house by five forty-five to make the drive here. Unfortunately, I had to rush my moisturizing routine." (He might think you're a freak. Stop mentioning your moisturizing routine; stop being stupid overall!) Kurt responded, maintaining his ramrod posture as he sat. Blaine walked over and sat next to him. "Now I think my pores are going to get bigger. It's depressing. I'll have holes all over my face," Kurt said, raising his hands and dropping them in faux defeat.
(…What did I just say?)
"Kurt, don't worry, your face is perfectly fine," Blaine laughed, folding his arms. "Which brings me to ask – why don't you just board here at Dalton?"
"As you said, the tuition here at Dalton is steep, and 'not everyone can pay it'," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "My dad and step-mom were able to pay for the school tuition, but we didn't have enough for room and board. And, about my face, going one day without completing my routine is just—just facial injustice."
"Your face is fine, and about boarding, that's too bad," Blaine sighed, his lips pursed into a pout. Kurt let out a rattling breath, his face getting redder.
"Yes, yes it is," Kurt mumbled. "My face is dry," he added, touching his face with a pale hand.
"Kurt, you look wonderful. Don't worry about it; your face still looks exactly the same. You are fine, just the way you are."
"…You really think so?" Kurt asked, his cheeks flushing a deep tone of red.
"Yes," Blaine said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his face also flashing shades of scarlet.
Silence filled the space between them.
"Anyway…aren't you supposed to be in the cafeteria?" Kurt asked suspiciously to dissolve the silence, his eyes narrowing. "Usually your prompt and dapper attitude seems to run your daily life. Why are you going off-schedule for once, may I ask, Warbler Blaine?"
Blaine rolled his eyes and smiled. "I was looking for you," he shrugged. "You're usually at lunch with Wes, David, Jeff, the rest of the Warblers, and I."
"I was…doing homework. French essay for Mrs. Elliot."
"C'est étrange," Blaine began. "En general, vous finir votre travail avant la clase."
["That's strange. You usually finish your work before class."]
Kurt felt his heart beat faster; luckily he covered his inner-freak out. (He's speaking to me in French. He only does that in class. Now he's speaking to me in French outside of class – calm down, Kurt, calm down!)
"Je suis allé à la maison tard la nuit dernière," Kurt responded back coyly, keeping himself composed. "Nous avons eu la Warbler pratique, rappelez-vous, Monsieur Anderson?"
["I went home late last night. We had Warbler practice, remember, Mr. Anderson?"]
"Of course I remember," Blaine laughed. "It's just a surprise seeing you work on homework."
(Jeez, Blaine, so eloquent an answerer.)
"What, you think I don't do my work? Shame on you," Kurt snapped, frowning. (I sound like a mother.)
"No, I'm just saying," Blaine said quickly, "You usually do your work at home and relax at lunch with us rather than work on it here."
(Oh no, he got me.)
"Pourquoi êtes-vous curieux?" Kurt remarked suspiciously.
["Why are you so curious?"]
"Just…just looking out for a friend," Blaine nodded, obviously reassuring himself more than Kurt. "And Kurt, you've been acting a bit peculiar since the GAP Attack and that day at the Lima Bean."
"To be honest, Blaine, it's been you who has been avoiding me since then. You're not exactly ninja, remember, Mr. Eurasian? Your attempts to hide from me have been duly noted."
After the Warblers' insane debacle at the GAP, and after Kurt had confessed to Blaine that he thought it was he – Kurt, that is – was the one Blaine wanted to serenade on Valentine's Day, the pair had been slightly distant. Blaine had taken to his dormitory more after school and right after Warbler practices, which bothered Kurt, because it was usually Blaine who accompanied him to his Navigator after practices. So, Kurt obliged and decided to do the same, starting today with his skipping lunch.
"That's crazy," Blaine said, sniffing indifferently. "Why would I avoid you? You—you're my best friend, Kurt. I wouldn't let you go for the world. You really do mean a lot to me."
('I wouldn't let you go for the world.' 'You really do mean a lot to me.' Oh my God, Blaine, make up your fricking mind and stop being so uptight about every single thing!)
Kurt came to the firm consensus that if he had been given a heart monitor at that moment in time, it would have broken by now.
"That's sweet," he began, biting his lower lip. (I think I should check in at the nurse's office—damn, Blaine.) "But I think you have been avoiding me. Anything on your mind? This…this 'best friendship' isn't exactly one-sided, you know."
"…Before I tell you, I would like to ask you why you're here and not in the cafeteria. I know that's not your French notebook," Blaine said, his eyes targeting Kurt's leather planner. "You were drawing designs for Wicked in that a few weeks ago."
Kurt quickly stuffed the notebook behind his back and cleared his throat. "I've transferred notebooks."
"That's impossible, because your French notebook is blue and you haven't finished all the pages in it yet."
(Dear God, he knows exactly how my notebook looks and how many pages I've filled in. God, Blaine, what on earth is your problem? First, you know my coffee order, second, you remember my excuses from weeks ago, third, you went looking for me, and fourthly, you've memorized my notebook color scheme—)
"Times change. I was bored with the type of plastic the cover was made of. Leather seems classier. More sheek. More French." (Good excuse. Very good excuse! Good job, Hummel!)
"Personally, I perceive the French to be more into fabrics rather than leather. Leather's out this season. I watched clips from Paris Fashion Week. No signs of leather jackets or anything."
Kurt froze. (Holy sh—of course he'd know! Stupid Hummel!)
"And judging by the size of your leather notebook, it's more pocket-sized and planner-esque. You surely can't fit an entire essay in a notebook you'll use for the rest of the year—"
"Who are you to judge notebook sizes? Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" Kurt cut in, agitated. Blaine raised his eyebrows and looked absolutely taken aback at Kurt's sudden change in character. Kurt internally slapped himself and softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I'm just a bit sleepy."
(Sleepy. Right. Good excuse. Again. You are really a trooper. Watch as this one goes down the drain like your notebook one. 'Leather'. Stupide! Vous êtes stupide, Kurt Hummel!)
"It's no problem. I'm sorry I questioned you," Blaine said apologetically, biting his lower lip.
(You do that one more time, and I will skewer you. Or something else. Whatever works.)
"Now, about the answer to my question before you turned all CSI on me…"
"To be perfectly honest with you, Kurt," Blaine began hesitantly. "I've been thinking that…"
(Here it comes: he's going to tell me he loves me, or something along the lines of that!)
Unfortunately, the sounds of loud footsteps sliding into the junior commons interrupted Blaine and Kurt's discussion. Wes and David entered the room, followed by Jeff and Thad, fellow members of the Warblers, suspicious and grinning.
"Warbler…" Wes began.
"…Blaine Anderson," David followed, eyebrows narrowing.
"Yes?" Blaine said, his teeth gritted into a smile.
"It was weird, not seeing you at lunch, so we looked all over the place. You missed it; they made gourmet Asian food. It's not as good as your mom's or Wes' mom's, Blaine, but it was delicious anyway. They made that pan-sheet noodle stuff—" Jeff began excitedly. David and Wes rolled their eyes.
"It's called pancit, Jeffrey," Wes said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, even Headmaster Crenshaw was questioning your location since you're always prompt and on time for lunch, Blaine."
(Okay. I forgot Wes was more uptight than Blaine for about thirty minutes.)
"And you too, Kurt," David added, looking towards a frozen and blinking Kurt.
"You make us sound like a pair of soulless automatons," Blaine grumbled.
Kurt was appalled. Of all the times for Super Wes and Supposedly-Equally-Super David and their special sidekicks, Jeffrey and Thad to interrupt his happy moments – this was absolutely the worst.
"Hey, we're just stating facts," Thad sniggered. "You know us."
(Soulless automatons, ha!)
"I was just talking to Kurt about Mrs. Elliot's French essay," Blaine said coolly, retaining his incredibly dapper and polite personality. "We were discussing about the historical figures we chose to write about."
"Thank God I'm taking Spanish," Jeff grinned, sitting on a nearby armchair. "Elliot would have murdered me." The other boys took seats in random areas around the room.
"Warbler practice tonight at six," David called as he searched through bookshelves.
"I thought you guys came here to scold us?" Kurt said loudly.
"We were just messing with you two lovers," Wes said coyly. "A bit peculiar, isn't it? Blaine and Kurt, both missing from lunch. I find it intriguing."
"We…we are not lovers," Blaine said indignantly, though Kurt could hear hesitation in his voice.
"Absolutely not," Kurt nodded fervently. David turned around from the book he was looking at and raised a speculative eyebrow.
"Okay, keep pretending," Thad called out.
Just then, the bell rang, and they could hear the sound of the rest of the Dalton boys leaving the canteen. Frustrated, Kurt picked up his bag, stuffed his planner in it, and dashed out of the junior commons before anyone could say anything. "See you in French" was the last thing he said.
(Always, those four, always, always, always! I hate this, I hate this feeling, oh my Gaga, what on earth am I going to do?)
But, even though he couldn't get an answer out of Blaine as to why they weren't as close as before, he knew one thing was for sure: Blaine was fine with every fiber of his being. Dry face and all.
Next Time: "Under The Sea" - Klaine, with background Finchel / Summer 2011, post-New York
Blaine doesn't know how to swim. Kurt obliges to teach him how. Plus, Rachel wants to prove to the boys, especially Finn, that she can be sexy without the actions.
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