Hey everyone! :D
Hope you enjoy this fic! New Directions banter, Klaine fluffiness, and…well, read on… :D
I'll be starting another Klaine fic soon, so look out for that one too! :D Thank you! :Dxxx
Even they themselves were unsure of precisely how this event came to be, but somehow it happened that the New Directions boys-all seven of them-ended up locked in the music store cupboard at McKinley.
It was pitch black, the whole place no more than eight square feet, maybe even less. In ordinary light, you could have seen the place was stuffed with music stands, endless stacks of sheet music and a number djembe drums with varying degrees of damage, along with a few ancient dusty keyboards and battered guitars, each with at least two missing strings. Yeah, there wasn't much of a music budget. There were no windows, no light source; no way out.
Well, of course there was a way out: the door. But it had ceased to operate.
The Glee club had been rehearsing after school on Friday, preparing their killer sectionals number. But the boys made the decision to stay on a little longer to perfect the steps-mostly for Finn Hudsen's benefit. The girls and Mr Schue had long since gone home, and the school was empty. Anyway, predictably, things got a little out of hand. Well, they must have-no one was really clear on the exact circumstance of this occurring.
For reasons unknown, when all seven guys had found themselves gathered in the cupboard-probably having a laugh about something-the stubborn blue door had made the decision to slam shut with a bang like a gunshot-and the old rusty key rammed in the lock on the other side had turned.
In conclusion: they were trapped.
The very first thing that hit them in the first few seconds was the sheer claustrophobia. You couldn't breathe without bumping into someone or upsetting a music stand. In the obsidian darkness-you literally could not see your hand in front of your face-the boys were crammed in like rush hour on the tube, shoved against each other and pushed around until no one was sure who was who-or where anyone was. And Artie Abram's wheelchair did not help.
Instantaneously, panic set in.
Noah "Puck" Puckerman banged hard with his large fist on the door. "Anyone out there!" he yelled through the wood, his voice echoing. The clutter stopped, everyone listening hard.
"Oh crap," Finn Hudsen's voice had become an octave higher than usual, a jittery, breathy edge creeping in. "Crap,"
Mike Chang made his way to the door and slammed his slim fist against it. The whole door shook with the force of his impact.
"Kurt, do you have a hairpin?" the dancer immediately asked, trying to keep his head as he studied the keyhole.
"Why would I have a hairpin?" Kurt Hummel's high, musical voice came from near the back, sounding annoyed-but with a similar panicky quality. He'd never liked the dark.
"You're the most likely-"
"Even if he did, it would be no use on this lock," Artie Abrams had pushed his wheelchair forwards to analyse the only possible escape route.
"Ow!" Puck complained. "That was my foot, Stubbles,"
"Sorry," Artie apologised meekly, not wanting trouble. He peered into the keyhole. "No, we can't manipulate this sort of lock,"
Puck swore loudly, banging his fist against the cupboard wall. "Well, a whole lot of use that is!" He kicked the door again with his trainer. "I could try and break it down?" he volunteered.
"Noah, I doubt even with your superior strength you could take that door down," Artie sounded pretty calm. "Now, we need to think about this rationally. Why don't we just call somebody?"
There were enlightened "Ah!"s and scrabbling for phones in the darkness.
"Oh crap, I left it in the choir room," Mike groaned.
"Me too," Artie and Puck chorused.
"Mine's dead," Finn moaned, slamming it shut.
A phone screen shone, like a holy light-then went out. "Mine just died," Kurt sighed.
"Sold mine," said Sam Evans quietly-but no one heard.
Another phone screen shone, the latest iPhone-illuminating Blaine Anderson's handsome face. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he grinned as he tapped in his pass code.
"My honey bear saves the day, as always," Kurt beamed adoringly at his boyfriend.
"Honey bear, Kurt? Really?" Finn groaned, shaking his head.
"Hey, Honey Bear holds your ticket out of here, so shush," Blaine continued scrolling through his contacts while everyone waited anxiously. He found the one he was looking for and pressed dial. The guys all held their breath-then Blaine's face changed dramatically. "No credit,"
Everyone groaned and swore; Puck kicked over a bucket on the floor. "You don't need credit to phone emergency services,"
"We are not phoning the emergency services," Artie said firmly.
"We'd better-on on Monday six corpses will fall out of this cupboard-and one more will roll out in a wheelchair," Puck drawled, dripping with sarcasm-but Kurt clutched Blaine's arm.
"You're not helping, Noah," Blaine shot him a warning look-which was probably missed in the dark. "No one is going to die," he gently re-assured his boyfriend.
"Yes, Kurtykins, pay no attention to big, nasty Puck," Puck mocked in a stupid voice.
"Shut up," Artie snapped. "Sarcasm will get us nowhere. Now, gentlemen," he said, with the air of an expedition leader preparing his troops. "Here is our situation. We're locked in this cupboard with little space and no way of getting out,"
"No shit, Sherlock," Puck sneered.
"Noah, you can't see me, but I am giving you a death stare," As usual, Artie took a logical approach. "Now, in a worse case scenario, we'll be stuck here until Monday morning at about eight-that's the first time someone will walk this way. So, if it's…" He consulted Blaine's iPhone. "seven o'clock on the dot now, we'll be in here for…sixty-one hours,"
"Oh crap," Finn groaned, to similar expressions of sentiments from everyone else.
"Okay," said Artie calmly. He wheeled himself with difficulty over to the biggest djembe. "We can get through this. Right," he said in a business-like manner, getting right to the point. "If anyone has any food or water, put it on the drum,"
Everyone searched themselves. Luckily, several had their bags on them. A minute later, every pocket had been turned out.
"Right, so we have…" Artie inspected the collection. Everyone's eyes were now adjusting, with the light from Blaine's iPhone. "six litres of bottled water, four and a half packets of gum, a screwed-up tissue, a half-eaten sandwich, a can of Coke, a bag of tortilla chips and a dollar. Well…we could have done worse. We'll be fine if we ration carefully-particularly the water. Because this place is going to get very hot very quickly from our combined body heat, my suggestion to decrease the risk of dehydration and for comfort, we all remove our shirts,"
"No way," Finn came in with straight away.
"Artie has a point," Sam said. "Come on, guys, it's a smart idea," He took of his own shirt, without a hint of being uncomfortable, folding it neatly. Everyone else gradually followed suit.
"Da-da-da da!" Puck sang, pretending to be a stripper, removing his shirt dramatically and throwing it across the room. "Da-da-da-da!" Everyone laughed weakly.
"I feel like the werewolves in Twilight," Mike commented, flexing his skinny arms.
"Remus Lupin all the way!" Blaine protested, laughing.
Mike looked at Sam and Puck's huge muscles. "It's times like this I wish I was butcher,"
"Me too," Artie crossed his matchstick arms over his too-thin chest and sighing a little.
"If you'd have told me yesterday I'd be sat in a dark cupboard with six other shirtless guys, I'd have said you were mental," Sam snickered, slouching down to the floor, leant against the wall.
"Okay, everyone try and keep cool-that way you won't get thirsty so fast," Artie said.
In time, each boy spread out as much as they could in the tight cupboard, mentally preparing themselves for the next sixty-one hours… Kurt had not let go of Blaine's arm.
"Hang on, Artie-what if we need to pee?" Finn asked.
Artie just looked at the bucket Puck had kicked over.
Hours later, the cupboard was already beginning to get very close and stuffy. The air seemed thick-though Artie had re-assured a worried Finn they would not run out of oxygen. Everyone was trying to move as little as possible-but it was hard. Mike was naturally very restless and fidgeted, tapping out dance moves with his feet on the floor. Sam sat, leant on one arm, next to him, constantly, annoyingly, flicking his floppy blonde hair out of his eyes. Finn still looked panicky and uncomfortable, eyes darting around everywhere as if expecting to drop dead any second, though everyone else had sort of got over it by now. Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, the latter boy carefully curling his eyelashes with a metal thing that looked like a medieval instrument of torture. The only one seemingly unaffected was Puck, who'd been in this kind of situation before, when Lauren had rescued him. Maybe that had cured him of his claustrophobia. He yawned lazily, throwing a crumpled-up page of sheet music in the air and catching it.
Boredom was the main peeve in there. And tempers were already starting to get a little high.
"Will you quit it?" Artie snapped-heat always made him cranky.
"What are you going to do, kick me out of the cupboard?" Puck snorted. "That'd make my day!"
"Look, guys," Blaine cut in quickly, keen for there to be no fights. "We're in here for another fifty-seven or so hours, so can't you try and get along? It would make life so much easier,"
Puck rolled his eyes and threw the paper ball at Finn. "Happy?"
"Much better," Artie closed his eyes again, as if meditating.
"No, not really!" Finn complained, throwing the paper right back, so it bounced off Puck's mohawk.
"Well, this isn't exactly Fun City," Sam said reasonably.
"What do you suggest we do, have a sing song?" Puck drawled.
Ten minutes later
"Na, na, na, na-na-na-na…na-na-na-na…hey Jude!" The singing had become half-laughing as they shouted their way through the chorus once again.
"We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine," Sam started, and everyone joined in, miming the lyrics and cracking up every few seconds. The cupboard suddenly seemed a lot more fun, loud and lively. They'd even forgotten about the heat, laughing and enjoying the Beatles jamming session.
"What would you think if I sang out of tune…" Finn coined, finally calming down.
"I get by with a little help from my friends!" everyone sang, adding killer harmonies.
"These songs are epic!" Mike declared. "We have to press them on Schue-we don't do enough Beatles!"
"Yes, but we must remember-there has to be a long solo for Miss Berry at some point," Artie rolled his eyes. "I swear, we've only done a few numbers ever that don't prominently feature her vocals,"
There were general noises of agreement.
"I know right?" Kurt piped up. "If Jesse St Sucks had his way, she'd have been more or less the only one on stage at Nationals,"
"I bet New York was amazing," Blaine grinned, squeezing Kurt's hand. "Wish the Warblers had got through," he said, a little wistfully.
"No offence, but we kicked your butt at Regionals," Puck said.
"Wasn't that when that nun was calling Dalton a "gay school"?" Sam asked. "I think that was a big reason why you guys didn't place,"
"Some people are just…" Blaine made a violent gesture.
"I know, right?" Artie nodded, as everyone else agreed.
"I apologise for being one of them," Puck said sheepishly.
"Seconded," Finn looked embarrassed.
"No, Finn, you tried to help me," Kurt protested.
"Kurt, I held your jacket while they threw you in the dumpster,"
"They threw you in the dumpster?" Blaine's eyes widened with shock.
"It's okay, that was years ago," Kurt gave a half-smile to show all was forgotten-and Puck and Finn both shot him grateful looks.
"You know, I'm amazed that that David Karofsky isn't still at it," Sam said thoughtfully.
"Wouldn't it be great if he came out as gay!" Puck laughed. Kurt and Blaine exchanged looks.
The banter continued. To be honest, everyone was getting along pretty well. It was almost like a camp-out-only less fresh air and more unpleasant smells. Blaine snuggled into Kurt's shoulder. "You okay, baby?"
"Fine," Kurt smiled. He loved it when Blaine called him that. But certainly wouldn't have been fine if Blaine wasn't with him. The countertenor did not like the dark…but it was easier with Blaine close. He would have told his boyfriend this-but it would only cue vomiting noises from Puck, and he could really do without those.
"Come on, guys, we should get some sleep," Artie said, a while and a few Beatles albums later. "The more we sleep, the faster time goes,"
"Who are you, our mother?" Puck yelled, lobbing a pen at him.
"Attacking a handicapped person-shameful," Artie tutted-but he grinned. Somehow, moods had improved. Everyone had sort of accepted-this was how it was. The goal was simply to make it through, then get out.
But after another hour, they decided that Artie had the right idea. It was like his passions for directing-what Artie really liked was being in charge. So he was delighted to be the sort-of leader of the pack here. Everyone was certainly looking to him for guidance-so this couldn't be a better situation for him. Well, it could. He could be at home in bed. But hey. Making the best of situations was something someone with a disability had to put up with a lot…
The New Directions boys all curled up on the floor, except Artie who remained in his chair, leant against the wall. They tried to get as comfortable as they could, using their discarded shirts as makeshift pillows-except Kurt, who used Blaine.
"I hope no one snores," Mike said seriously. Blaine flicked off the backlight on his iPhone, plunging the cupboard once again into darkness. You couldn't see a thing, just gloomy blackness all around.
"Goodnight, everyone," Kurt called, his voice echoing slightly off the walls. Everyone grunted in response.
"Night," Blaine whispered to his boyfriend, gently stroking his hair. Kurt went to kiss him. His grew wings as their lips met. Tasting the honey-musk of his breath, the countertenor's head swam dizzily, flying far away from this dingy cupboard. It dissolved around him, leaving just he and Blaine, together.
"Hope you're not making out over there," came Finn's voice from the other side. "That's my little brother, Blaine,"
Kurt rolled his eyes, but Blaine laughed a little. "Don't worry, man,"
A while later, everyone had quietened down, and Finn had begun to snore.
"I love you," Kurt whispered, resting his head on Blaine's chest. He kissed him just above the heart.
"I love you too," Blaine whispered back. "So much," "Sweet dreams," Kurt whispered. Blaine smiled. He loved it when Kurt used cutesy phrases like that.
"Right back at you,"
And so, the young men of the Glee club started the seemingly impossible task: sixty-one hours in a cupboard.
Thank you so much for reading, and please review! Thank you! :D PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx