why don't you sign me up to sell me out?
Fight or Flight
AU Fic - in which Kurt is a Cheerio, Blaine is his tutor, and an anonymous student is dealing karmic justice at McKinley High.
Rating - T (yeah, going by FF.net ratings. Shoot me.)
Fight or Flight
Summary: AU Glee fic. Blaine is the co-head of New Directions along with Quinn. Kurt and Rachel are Cheerios. When Blaine has to tutor Kurt, they find that they aren’t so different after all. Meanwhile, mysterious notes and messages are appearing in lockers around McKinley – not all of them nice. Secrets will be spilled.
Chapter One
When Kurt Hummel had walked into McKinley High on the first day of his freshman year, his thoughts hadn’t been on what classes he would have or what teachers he’d be stuck with. His mind had been firmly fixated on one thing and one thing only – what extra-curricular he would apply to. He knew from listening to the older kids in Lima that whatever choice he made would decide his entire school career. Sometimes, he had thought, you make a choice, and it’s the right one. Sometimes you make a choice and it’s the wrong one. Sometimes you make the only choice you can, wrong or right. The thing is, you make a choice, and you live with the consequences. You don’t get a second chance to go back and make that choice again; you can only deal with what follows.
So when he walked up to the notice board in the main corridor and scanned the mess of flyers, he ignored the blue Science Club leaflet. He skimmed over the white sheet proclaiming that Chess Club was the place to be and rolled his eyes at the Glee Club poster. Finally, his eyes alighted on a red and white sheet, already covered in scribbled signatures, and fumbled for a pen. He scrawled his name on one of the free spots and one week and a very tiring tryout later, he was a Cheerio.
That had been three years ago, and Kurt had never looked back.
“Stop wriggling, Rachel,” he ordered. The brunette glared at him from her position in front of the mirror and he gave her his best ice queen stare in return. “You know what? You’re going to be sorry when I tear off your eyebrow.” Scowling, Rachel stilled and allowed him to apply another wax strip. She gave a little squeak of pain as he tore off the wax and dumped the strip in the trash, wiping his hands and giving her a satisfied once-over.
“How do I look?” she asked, studying her reflection.
“Better,” Kurt said dismissively. “Coach Sylvester should stop with the eyebrow jokes now. For a while, anyway. Of course she’ll probably just move onto another feature you don’t like – maybe your nose this time. That’s something I can’t fix. At least not without a medical degree and some surgical tools.”
Rachel touched her nose protectively and smoothed her freshly waxed eyebrows. “Maybe Coach Sue will pick another victim. Brittany Pierce is getting a little chubby around the edges, don’t you think?”
“I heard that it’s baby fat, if you know what I mean,” Kurt said, waggling his brows. Rachel’s mouth became an ‘o’ of surprise. “According to Jacob Ben Israel, Brittany and Puckerman have been canoodling in the choir room after school.”
Rachel wrinkled up her nose. “Who says canoodling anymore?”
“The point is,” Kurt said, throwing a pillow at his friend, “that rumour has it that Brittany’s pregnant and Puck’s the father.”
“Lies,” Rachel said, waving her hand. “There was a rumour going around last month that he got Quinn Fabray pregnant.”
“Yeah, well. Like that would ever happen.”
Kurt and Rachel shared a laugh. Quinn Fabray was the solo singing, tantrum throwing head of the McKinley High Glee Club. She was also head of the celibacy club and frequently on the receiving end of slushie facials. When the rumour about Quinn and Puck had gotten out, Kurt had known it was a lie – because he had it on good authority that Quinn Fabray had never even kissed anyone. Jacob Ben Israel was a low life leech, but he was a useful one.
“I should get going,” Rachel said, glancing down at her watch. She got to her feet and smoothed down her Cheerios uniform before leaning forward and kissing Kurt once on each cheek. “My dads are making tapas. I’ll see you at school. Don’t forget to study for your English test – remember what Coach Sue said.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt said. “See you tomorrow, Berry.” He waved Rachel out of his bedroom, rolling his eyes as she made one last comment about his English test. It wasn’t a big deal – sure, Coach Sylvester had warned him that if he got less than a B he’d be off the Cheerios, but it was English. He spoke the language fluently. He was hardly going to fail.
And since it was only seven o’clock, that meant that Kurt had plenty of time to study and relax. He stretched out luxuriously on his bed as he thought about the night ahead – maybe he could have a Grey’s Anatomy marathon. He could try out some new recipes. He reached absent-mindedly for his laptop and logged into his instant messenger account, a small smile tugging at his lips as a new option for the evening opened up.
He could talk to Curls.
Porcelain - hi. what’s up?
Curls - oh, hi :) i’m just catching up on homework.
Kurt knew that having an online boyfriend was sad beyond belief. It was the type of thing that Quinn Fabray did, not Kurt Hummel, head Cheerio. But there weren’t many out guys in Lima, Ohio, and even though no-one would dare mess with Kurt, most guys were afraid to date him. He’d met Curls in a chat room about Vogue and had been surprised to find out that they both went to McKinley. Of course, Curls refused to tell Kurt his real name. All Kurt knew was that they were in different grades but they shared a few classes, but that wasn’t much to go on at all. Kurt was in a lot of mixed grade classes, since his test results usually weren’t too great. He’d tried to guess who Curls could be a million times, but he’d never managed to work it out.
Porcelain - going to study for the english test tomorrow?
Curls - already did it. i can’t get less than a b on this test or my dad will kill me.
Porcelain - ha, me too. except my dad doesn’t really care. it’s just coach sylvester. she said i’m off the squad of i don’t get my grades up.
Curls - so shouldn’t you be studying?
Porcelain - i like talking to you more ;)
There was a pause, just like there always was whenever Kurt tried to be flirty. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the keyboard while he waited for a reply.
Curls - i like talking to you too, but i don’t want you to lose your spot on the cheerios. then i’d never see you in your uniform ;)
Kurt grinned. That was more like it. Usually Curls would make some excuse and then log off. He typed out a response, deciding to try his luck.
Porcelain - if you’d tell me who you are, you could see me in a lot less ;)
Curls - sorry. don’t think it’s a good idea.
Porcelain - you always say that. why?
Curls - i’m not your type.
Porcelain - how do you know?
Curls - i’ve got to go study. bye, kurt.
Curls has logged off.
Kurt sighed and closed the lid of his laptop. It was always the same. He would flirt and sometimes Curls would respond, but whenever Kurt asked who he was, he clammed up. He wondered if Curls was a girl and maybe that was why he refused to tell Kurt who he was. No – that was crazy. With a sigh, Kurt shook his head and decided to put Curls out of his mind for the time being. He had more important things to do. He glanced around his room, his eyes skimming over the stack of English textbooks in the corner and the pile of homework on his desk, before finally alighting on his season six box set of Grey’s Anatomy.
It was going to be a good night.
*
Blaine Anderson wasn’t a bad kid. He rarely got in trouble, he got good grades, and he had never been sent to the principal’s office. So when Ms. Pillsbury had come to his Spanish class and asked Mr. Schuester if she could borrow him, needless to say, he was confused. He followed the guidance counsellor to Principal Figgins office, where he assumed things would become clearer – however, they just got even more confusing from the moment they reached the glass-walled office. Sitting in front of Figgins’s desk was a boy that Blaine recognised at once. It was hard not to. With his smooth, white skin and perfectly coiffed brown hair, Kurt Hummel stood out. Not to mention the bright red and white Cheerios uniform.
He also had a voice like an angel and his screen-name was Porcelain, but Kurt didn’t know that Blaine knew that. Blaine hesitated outside the door, remembering his online conversation with Kurt the night before and wondering if somehow the Cheerio would realise it was him. However, he couldn’t stand outside the office forever. Prompted by Ms. Pillsbury, Blaine knocked on the door and let himself in, flushing a little when Kurt looked in his direction. He focused his gaze on Principal Figgins. “Er, Ms. Pillsbury said you wanted to see me, sir.”
“Mr. Anderson,” Principal Figgins said, beaming. “Come in, come in, have a seat.” The only available seat in the room was beside Kurt. Blaine swallowed hard and slowly sank into it, draping his messenger bag over the back of the chair.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not really sure–” Blaine began, but found himself cut off by Kurt.
“Him?” the Cheerio snapped, jerking a thumb in Blaine’s direction. “You want him to tutor me? He’s a year younger than me, Principal Figgins. And he has a permanently glazed over expression. He’s moronic. I doubt he can tie his shoelaces, let alone tutor me.”
Blaine felt a hot spike of anger, but reminded himself that Kurt was a Cheerio – in school, at least, he wasn’t able to be anything more than vapid and bitchy and shallow. He composed himself and looked at Principal Figgins. “What’s this about tutoring?”
“Mr. Hummel,” Principal Figgins said, shooting a disapproving look in Kurt’s direction, “has failed his last three English exams.” For the first time, Blaine noticed the paper clutched in Kurt’s hand. Their English test from the week before, probably. “We have a strict policy here at McKinley High when it comes to grades and extra-curricular activities. Coach Sylvester has previously warned Mr. Hummel that he would be removed from the cheerleading squad if he couldn’t maintain a B average in all of his classes. Now that he has failed to do so, however, Coach Sylvester has informed me that she can’t afford to remove him from the squad.”
Kurt looked smug. Blaine darted a quick glance at him and then looked back at the principal. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“Coach Sylvester and I have reached a compromise,” Figgins said. “If Kurt agrees to daily tutoring sessions, he will be allowed to remain on the Cheerios and compete with them. Mr. Anderson, you are a model student and your teacher informs me that you haven’t received a lower grade than a B since freshman year. I’m volunteering you to be Mr. Hummel’s tutor.”
“Me?” Blaine squeaked. He tried to imagine meeting with Kurt every day, teaching him how to memorise quotes and analyse Shakespeare, maybe leaning over his shoulder to point out a reference, or brushing aside his hair to – Blaine stopped himself, feeling his cheeks grow red. “I’m not sure if I’m the best choice, Principal Figgins.”
“See?” Kurt sneered.
“It’s settled,” Principal Figgins said, glaring at the two boys. “You will meet every day after school until Mr. Hummel’s grades pick up. And if they don’t, Mr. Hummel, you’ll be off the Cheerios. I won’t be offering you a deal like this one again.” He looked down at his desk, wordlessly dismissing the boys.
Blaine got to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder, making a beeline for the door in an attempt to get away without having to talk to Kurt. He’d barely made it three feet down the hallway before Kurt shouted after him.
“Hey, Anderson,” he called. Blaine froze, pivoting to look at the other boy. Kurt was standing with his arms folded, hip popped. His eyebrows were raised. He gave a resigned sigh. “Look, listen to me, hobbit. I’m not happy about this arrangement. I doubt you’re happy about this arrangement. But I really need to stay on the Cheerios, so here’s my offer – you help me get my grades up, and I’ll help you get a date with any Cheerio on the squad. Deal?”
Blaine nodded quickly and then hurried away, clutching his books to his chest. He waited until he was sure he was out of Kurt’s sight before stopping and slumping onto the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. “Deal,” he whispered.
I just can’t be the only one freaking out about this stuff. Please, please if someone else is panicking like I am, leave something in my ask so we can freak out together. Because none of my friends are freaking out. Not one of them.
So it’s just about 4 in the morning and I’m lying in bed feeling like absolute shit and now I’m freaking out because it just hit me that I don’t know what I want to do with my life. At all. I dunno where I wanna go to college or what I want to study or what I want to be. And it’s a really random time to be worrying about this and I don’t know why I am worrying about it. I don’t even know why I’m posting this because it’s not like anyone’s going to see it and give me all of the answers I’m looking for. I just wish there was some guide I could follow and ugh. I HATE GROWING UP.
So I’m gonna sleep now but if anybody wants to leave a prompt in my ask for a Dalton fic, go ahead. And by that I mean PLEASE OH PLEASE PROMPT ME SOME JOGAN AND RANE!
Like seriously, guys, I just need to write more drabbles, mmkay? The ask box is open.
In Which Logan Can’t Cook
“Oh, shit.”
Logan stared in horror at the toaster, his eyes widening at the sight of the flames licking across the blackened bread. He hadn’t known that it was possible to set fire to toast. Cursing under his breath, Logan scrambled for a dishcloth and fanned it over the flames, his voice rising to a shriek as the curtains caught fire.
“SHIT!” he yelled, dropping the cloth and looking around for the emergency fire extinguisher. By the time he spotted the small red cylinder with the Stuart crest emblazoned on the side, the flames had spread up the curtains and were starting to lick at the cupboards. Logan moaned under his breath and closed his eyes, pressing his hands over his face.
“Logan?” Julian’s voice came through the open kitchen door, sounding amused. “Did you burn your - HOLY CRAP.”
“Help!” Logan hissed. Julian grabbed the fire extinguisher and tugged on the nozzle, sending white foam spurting over the flames. Logan breathed a sigh of relief as they flickered and died, leaving behind a tattered pair of curtains and two badly charred slices of toast.
Julian tucked the fire extinguisher under his arm and plucked the toast out of the toaster, dropping it into the trash with one swift movement. With that taken care of, he yanked the curtains off the rail and tossed them into the trash as well, before turning around to Logan with a tight-lipped glare.
“I know you’re a bad cook,” he said, “but who the hell manages to set the kitchen on fire when they’re making toast?”
“A really bad cook?” Logan said, grinning sheepishly. Julian rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. No more unsupervised culinary activities. I don’t want to have to play knight in shining armour again.”
Logan’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Yeah, you’d much rather play the damsel in distress, right, Princess?”
“Shut up,” Julian replied.
“Well, you’re certainly better suited for the role than I am,” Logan said, trying to get a rise out of him. Julian raised his eyebrows and stepped towards the blond until they were almost chest to chest.
“Oh, really? Are you sure about that?”
“Pretty sure.”
“I don’t know, Lo. I think you’d make a very pretty damsel…”
The fire extinguisher clattered to the floor, forgotten.
Before
“How long will you be gone for this time?”
Julian stopped in the act of folding one of his shirts, his shoulders slumping at the sound of Logan’s subdued voice. They’d been fighting on and off since Julian’s agent had called about his new movie deal. He was meant to be leaving tomorrow - he didn’t want another argument.
“Four or five months,” Julian said, carefully pressing the folded shirt into his suitcase. “Depending on the production schedule.”
“Five months is a long time,” Logan said sullenly.
“I know it is, Lo.”
“Can’t you ever stay in one place?” the blond said, lips pulling into a frown.
“We’ve had this argument before,” Julian replied, sighing. “Look, I’m leaving in the morning and I won’t see you for months - a long time, remember? Can’t we just not fight until then?”
Logan was silent for a moment. Julian returned to his packing, determined to block Logan out if he was going to act like such a kid. The bed creaked and suddenly Julian felt Logan’s arms wrap around his waist and his chin pressed against the actor’s shoulder. “I’m just going to miss you, alright?”
Julian couldn’t resist giving a snarky response. “It never bothered you this much before.”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to Julian’s neck. “That was before.”
I have so many plot bunnies for Jogan fics running around in my head and I don’t know what to do D:
Paparazzi
“I don’t know why I agreed to do this,” Logan grumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as Julian tugged him behind a pillar. “Shopping with you always turns into a game of hide and seek. And not the fun kind.”
“There’s a fun kind?” Julian muttered, tugging his baseball cap down over his eyes and peering around the pillar. “Crap, there’s a girl wearing a Something Damaged t-shirt by the water fountain. Okay, maybe if we go back-“
“JULIAN!”
“Too late,” Logan said, his eyes widening with horror as a group of girls suddenly started charging their way.
“Come on!” Julian grabbed Logan’s hand and tugged him down a hallway, well-versed in the art of running away from rabid fangirls. Although Julian was shorter than him, Logan had trouble keeping up with the actor as he pulled him through the endless twists and turns of the mall.
Eventually, they came to a stop outside an empty, boarded up retail unit. The two boys were both panting. Logan leaned against the wall and slid down it slowly until he was sitting on the floor and then glared up at Julian, green eyes flashing.
“I am never,” he said vehemently, “going shopping with you. Ever. Again.”
Julian settled into a sitting position beside Logan and gave him a sidelong look and a snarky grin. “Come on,” he said. “That was kind of fun.”
“Aren’t celebrities supposed to hate that kind of stuff?” Logan retorted.
“What, being followed around?” Julian replied. “Of course. But it’s worse when you’re alone.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Cheesy.”
“It’s my hidden romantic side,” Julian said, grin widening. He leaned in and kissed Logan, feeling the usual adrenaline kick in, intensified this time because they were actually kissing in public, where anyone could see them, and-
FLASH!
Julian and Logan pulled away from each other just in time to see the girl who had taken their picture disappear around the corner, pigtails flying.
“Well,” Julian said. “Crap.”
