Work Text:
The message reads, Meet me at the Lima Bean on Saturday at noon. Come alone. Please. It’s crucial that I see you.
It’s the sort of message Kurt would normally delete without a second thought, refusing to be lured into his own beat-down, but something about this one speaks to him. Maybe it’s the offer to meet midday at a coffee shop with a pretty steady crowd. Maybe it’s the archaic use of the word ‘please’.
And a Dalton man arranging to meet on the New Directions’ turf? It’s an olive branch if Kurt’s ever seen one.
And yet, the uncertainty lingers as he types out his reply. A simple See you then shouldn’t be so difficult for him to bang out on his keyboard, but his fingers trail along like every key had its own unique weight. There’s some guilt in his compliance, though he can’t decide whether it’s his own conscience or the thought of Rachel’s voice screaming at him for breaking the rules.
The ‘rules’.
After their colossal failure at Nationals last season, the New Directions have taken on a new approach to handling their rival schools. It hadn’t been a collective decision or one they ever truly discussed. As Mr. Schue has reminded them countless times in recent months, ruthlessness has never been their style.
That sentiment, though, no matter how many times it’s repeated, falls on unhearing ears.
Like most things in glee club, it started with Rachel. Kurt saw the tides shifting on May’s heels. He watched her over the summer, as she poured over her laptop during sleepovers or huddled over her phone when they went to the mall, and beyond trying to pull her attention back to the present, he didn’t think much of her fixation with the internet.
Apparently, that ill-timed kiss, the rip in N.D.’s sail, became the hot topic of the summer on the show choir blogs. In a way, he could see why she would be obsessed with what everyone had to say about it; he’d be a bit paranoid, too, if he were involved in something titled ‘The Kiss Heard ‘Round the World’. She followed every post, read every comment, and studied with an intensity that frightened him a little bit, if he’s being honest.
The first thing she said once they’d settled in for the first glee club meeting of the school year had been, “I’m done being treated like a joke. Becoming a champion starts with acting like one, and what do champions do? They crush the competition like bugs and never look back.”
Mr. Schue had laughed her off and ushered her to a seat, but soon enough, she had the whole club seeing things her way.
And her way, he reminds himself, has a distinct lack of fraternizing with the enemy.
He clicks the send button.
Whoops.
*
As soon as he steps out of his Navigator, he straightens his waistcoat and his spine, raises his chin. He even does a quick check in his side mirror to make sure his hair is perfect and his face expressionless. Whether he made a mistake in coming here or not, intimidating the competition could be what keeps things from getting out of hand – and Kurt can do intimidation.
He opens the coffee shop door to a bell and a volume increase in the buzz of conversation. The smell of coffee hovers around the shop like a cloud, but his senses feel the power-punch of the aroma as he steps inside. He scans the crowd, mindful of how he turns his head so he doesn’t appear frantic or jerky – it really is packed in here, and all these people crammed into a small space are starting to make him anxious.
A barista calls a couple of orders at once, the crowd shifts, and through a gap he sees the boy from the profile picture, gelled hair and blazer and all. He’s at a table for two in the middle of it all, hands clasped on the round table top and eyes glancing around the shop. There’s a cup sitting near his hands; it reminds Kurt to get in line.
It takes a couple of minutes to get through the line, and when he looks back over at the table from his spot as next-in-line, he finds the boy staring at him, his mouth as flat as his eyes.
Kurt doesn’t smile at him, either.
The New Directions have never properly went up against the Warblers – initially, they were supposed to compete at Sectionals last year, but circumstances switched up the dates and the roster and they never faced each other after that. Still, they float in the same sphere, both of them regarded as top show choirs in their area, though the Warblers seem to be an online darling, whereas the New Directions are more of an odd fascination.
Rachel has assured him that the Warblers are the enemy; Kurt can’t say he knows much about them, taking her biases into account, but he has little other choice but to believe her.
The person in front of him shuffles to the side, and Kurt steps up and places his order. When he has his mocha a couple minutes later, he walks over to the table, his heart picking up speed the closer the gets. He wants to look around for other prep school boys hiding between shoulder-high shelves or behind fake potted plants, but he makes sure to maintain steady eye contact. The boy watches him right back, doesn’t move until Kurt’s sitting his cup down on the table.
He holds out his hand. Kurt shakes it, squeezing tight before he lets go.
"Thank you for meeting me here," the boy says. His voice, oddly enough, reminds Kurt of coffee, with how warm it is even when he’s putting on some rigid formality. The sound of it makes the detached expression on his face look unnatural.
"No problem," Kurt says, taking a seat. "I can’t say I remember your name, though."
He’d planned on making a comment like that anyway – knowing the little bit he knows, he recognizes this face, and because of that, his air of cool detachment calls for a certain forgetfulness – but now he can’t remember for sure what it is, only that it started with a ‘B’.
"It’s Blaine. Blaine Anderson? I’m in the Dalton Academy War-"
"Oh, right, right, yeah. I remember now." Kurt busies himself with his coffee, removing the lid to let his mocha cool faster. Kurt bats his hand through the rising steam, and says, "And I guess I should assume you already know me?"
A smile breaks across Blaine’s face as he laughs under his breath, and even as he looks down and away, Kurt can see how much friendlier it makes him look.
"I guess so," Blaine says. He looks back up at him, an easy grin still on his face for a moment before it fades, giving way to a crease between his brows and a tug to one side of his mouth. "Kurt Hummel, right?"
Kurt frowns, thinks, He messaged me, why would he not-? until he sees the quiver of Blaine’s mouth and the light of his brown eyes, and then narrows his own.
“Ha ha.” He watches Blaine snicker and ignores the heat rushing up on his own face. “For the record, I really couldn’t remember.”
"Oh, like you guys don’t brush up on your competition," Blaine says. His disbelief in the drop of his shoulder and the tilt of his head.
Kurt shakes his head, focuses on snapping the lid back on his mocha. “Not my thing.”
“No?” The way he says it makes it sound like he doesn't believe him.
He takes a small sip, testing the heat on his tongue. He flinches; still just this side of too hot. He sits the cup back down.
"Nope, that would be Rachel." Then he lets his eyes rove over Blaine, taking in the broad, boxy shoulders of his blazer, the crest patch on his chest, the way his tie doesn’t try to creep up his shirt and sag over. The closed little grin on his mouth, like his mouth was just made that way. Kurt notices how wide Blaine’s eyes are, and bright, and feels a little put on the spot by how they never waver from him. Having his attention is a little intense. "You remind me of her a little bit, actually."
Blaine’s eyebrows pull together in a quick, bemused motion as he leans forward, leaning on the table on his folded arms. “How so?”
Kurt snorts, mirroring Blaine’s position. Well.
He thinks a moment, wondering how much he can say before his evasiveness is compromised.
After Mr. Schue announced who they would be facing at Regionals, Rachel handed out profiles she made of their competition. Kurt knows this face, but he also knows he isn’t only the face – he is the voice, the presence, the heart of the Warblers. He’s their leading man. He is their Rachel, their Jesse St. James. And, if anything Rachel had written down is true, Blaine very well knows how vital he is.
He glances up at Blaine’s hair, dark and a little shiny but perfectly in place, and says in a voice spoken to stay between them, “You expect everyone to know who you are because you’re talented. You are the star like the Sun is a star — everything revolves around you. I might even venture out and say you’re driven by your need to win and I’m not one hundred percent sure about you yet, but I know how far Rachel would go to keep her limelight. And removing her competition is nothing new to her. So I would really like to know why I’m here.”
He watches Blaine’s eyes narrow with every word, his tongue moving along the back of his parted lips. Neither of them move, and Kurt starts to notice how close they are to each other, how Blaine’s face is all that’s in focus, and the new sharpness in his features, whether he’s insulted or angry or something similar, makes him look reckless, if not dangerous. Kurt waits, waits on rough hands to yank him out of his seat or for Blaine to snap back or threaten him or –something.
(Another part of him wonders how they look to the crowd around them, to the old folks at the tables perimetering the shop or the teenagers huddled in groups by the counter or the workers bustling around. School rivalries have always been so stupid to Kurt because of this reason alone; any one of these people surrounding them would find their problems so ridiculous. It’s just show choir. How can a thing called glee club have this much animosity within its circles?)
"Okay," Blaine says. He passes his tongue along his bottom lip. "I’m going to ignore that, only because I do actually need your help."
"What could you possibly need my help with?" Kurt lifts his weight off of his arms, bringing his cup up to take a drink. "If you know who I am, then you must know there are people in our group that are a little more of an asset than I am."
Blaine pulls back as well, pulling his arms off the table completely while Kurt continues to rest his elbows on it.
"I wouldn’t say that." Blaine picks up his own cup, swirling it a bit with a frown. He hesitates, then lifts it to his mouth for a long sip, before slamming it back down with a shuddering grimace. "I waited too long to do that. Yuck."
Kurt takes another sip of his mocha to mask his grin.
Blaine works his tongue in his mouth for a moment, shakes his head. Kurt wants to ask him what he had meant, but then Blaine starts to speak again.
"You are right, though, in some ways. I do enjoy winning, I would imagine everyone enjoys winning. And I do like to ensure that I’m doing everything I can to keep the Warblers ahead and in the game, so to speak."
Kurt nods, feeling the catch creep closer. He sits up straighter, keeps his eyes trained on Blaine, even though Blaine’s looking off to the side, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Which is why I needed to meet up with you, because we’re- The Warblers are having a bit of a problem."
Kurt tips his head in a nod. “Mm-hmm. And of what variety is this problem?”
Blaine pauses for a moment, just stares at before, before he sighs, quiet and long. There’s something tired in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
"Look, I know you don’t trust me. We’re competing against each other in a couple of weeks, stakes are high, and- I just want to promise you right here and now that I’m not trying to- to get any information out of you. Alright?"
The wheels turning in Kurt’s brain pause, caught off guard by the frank look in Blaine’s eyes.
Blaine grins. “You seem surprised.”
“I-” Kurt loses his words as he feels a blush creep up his neck. He hears Rachel’s voice again, calling Blaine a liar and Kurt a weak link. He blinks, and with his own thoughts, the coffee shop music over the speaker system, the pop and buzz of the machines behind the bar, and the voices around them that suddenly feel so loud, he can’t help but feel distracted, lost in Blaine’s eyes.
“You...?”
“I feel like I have no idea where this conversation is going now.”
Blaine’s laughter lights his face up and squints his eyes, and Kurt’s seen few things cuter than the sight of it.
This is the worst ‘bitter’ rivalry he’s ever been a part of.
“I guess I could have mentioned it over Facebook, but everything’s been so weird lately that I didn’t want to risk it.”
“What’s been going on?” Kurt asks. He feels the ghost of Rachel’s voice started to fade, the tense line of his shoulders loosening. And with this newfound trust comes a curiosity he’d mostly ignored in favor of look for Blaine-the-Enemy’s angle.
Blaine sighs. “Lately, the Warblers have been getting- harassed by that glee club from Carmel High.”
Kurt’s eyes widen. “Vocal Adrenaline?”
“Yeah, that’s them. They’ve just been- They’ve really been getting on our nerves. Sebastian’s, especially. He’s obsessed with retaliation, and it’s all I can do to keep everyone from running wild.” Blaine shrugs a shoulder, one corner of his mouth tugging to the side in a tight half-smile. “I did some snooping and found out that you guys had some stuff going on with them a couple of years ago, and I thought you might be able to help me out.”
“Well. Yes, we did have some problems with them, but that’s only because of Rachel and Jesse’s little fling they had going on- Oh please, dear god, don’t tell me-”
“Nick’s girlfriend moved into their school district over the summer!” Blaine says like a defense through a laugh, a light pink tint to his face. “Sectionals were okay, but when we tied with them, everything sort of went to crap.”
“Did they show up with some number they prepared just to intimidate you?”
Blaine nods. “Yes.”
“Did they T.P. your choir room?”
“Our practice room, yes.”
“Egg any of your members in the parking lot?”
Blaine blinks, his eyebrows furrowing. “Um. No. They- They did that to you guys?”
“Well, they did it because Rachel was a vegan, so- maybe it won’t happen to you? Unless Nick’s also a vegan, then- possibly. I don’t know.”
Blaine’s jaw drops, and Kurt focuses on his mocha just so he can look away from the horror on his face.
“That’s so cruel.”
Kurt takes time swirling his sip around his mouth, swallows and then waits a moment to speak.
“We all felt that way, too. Finn and Puck slashed the tires on every single one of their cars-”
“Whoa, wait, how did they get away with that?”
Kurt bats his hand in dismissal. “Mr. Schue got them out of trouble, I don’t know. In the end, we just- challenged them back. We invited them to our auditorium, threw back everything they gave us, and then- that was that.” He scraps his thumbnail along the bottom curve of the oval Lima Bean logo on his cup. “We used to solve everything with music.”
As hokey as it had been at times, at least he never felt as bad as he does now when they battled it out in song. Mr. Schue has tried to corral them, but he may as well be a ghost to the club these days. Now, all their goals are focused on domination, on defeating everyone rather than letting their unique talents shine. Practices have been torture for that reason, all rigid military style rather than something difficult but fun.
And none of that includes Rachel’s online campaigns. She tried to wrangle him into making an account, even if he never planned on posting, but he knew he had to draw a line somewhere. Not everyone joined in on that part – Finn and Sam had had no idea show choirs blogs were even a thing until Rachel started ranting about them – but Santana, Tina, and (weirdly enough) Puck got a kick out of them.
It was nasty and rude and underhanded, and as surprising as it is to him, Kurt really misses how things used to be.
Blaine’s voice is quiet when he says, “That’s part of the reason why I chose to message you.”
Kurt looks up, sees the drawn in look on Blaine’s face. He doesn’t look as cold as he had when Kurt first sat down, but there’s still that serious quality, even if it’s a little more tender.
“What do you mean?”
Blaine reclines the little that he can in his stiff metal chair, rolling his jaw as he look off toward a top corner of the room.
“Well,” he says, and there’s a sort of reluctance in his voice. “None of you guys have been particularly nice to us this season. You guys mostly take the to internet, but- all the same. And when I say you guys, I mean the ones I’ve noticed from the blogs-”
Kurt groans, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. “What sort of hell do these blogs come from and why do I keep hearing about them?”
“That’s what I mean, though.” Blaine leans forward on the table again. “You’re one of the few that seems rational right now.”
Kurt opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling. It passes through his brain, a sarcastic little quip, but it makes his heart drop like a stone when he realizes the truth in it.
The nastiness, the grueling practices, their total lack of mercy...
“Oh my god, we’ve turned into Vocal Adrenaline.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t go that far-”
Kurt stares at Blaine, can feel the tense look on his face. “What’s the difference between online and in person? None of it’s nice, none of it’s necessary. We’ve become unfeeling monsters. We’re trying to make people take us seriously and all it’s doing is burning bridges.”
“I wouldn’t really say you’ve burned every bridge,” Blaine says. Kurt narrows his eyes; Blaine shrugs, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?”
Kurt shakes his head and rolls his eyes, even if he can’t stop the laugh that bubbles past his lips. He doesn’t want to laugh, feels too weighed down in the gunky, grimy feeling in his stomach and his brain, but it just- falls out of him. Blaine seems to see him as something better than Kurt feels he is, and he wishes he could ignore his guilt and go along with him.
Kurt sighs, says, “I’m no saint, either. I haven’t involved myself in the online stuff like the others have, but it’s not like I’ve tried to stop them. I- I thought you had cronies waiting in the wings to take me behind the building and beat the crap out of me – over a high school show choir competition. I’m hardly the most rational person in this situation.”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll agree with you there.” When he sees how big Kurt’s eyes get, he shrugs, showing his open palms. “What? None of what you said just now made any sense, what kind of power do you think I have? But I know, it’s just an ‘arch enemy’ mentality, I understand that. I just- need to make sure none of my guys get disqualified for dumb, useless reasons, and you feel like my only hope for a solution. Or, at least, a non-revenge-based solution.”
A smile starts to grow on Kurt’s face, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s nice to be trusted by Blaine, especially when he has more reason to not call on Kurt at all. His posture loosens as he leans closer to Blaine and says, “Revenge really is so useless, isn’t it?”
Blaine nods, smiling along with Kurt. "Don't I know that by now."
And then silence settles between them. A sense of dread creeps up on him as Kurt feels their conversation coming to a close. He doesn’t know if Blaine’s found the answers he’s looking for or if he wants Kurt to help him strategizes ways to get Vocal Adrenaline off the Warblers’ backs, and his mind races to find something more to say.
Kurt runs his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “Listen. I’m-” Kurt pauses when Blaine looks at him. Having the attention of Blaine’s bright eyes is so, so distracting. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I- swept in like I did, and I’m sorry for accusing you of being- self-centered and all that. And you should take that apology to heart, because I don’t say that to just anyone.”
Blaine laughs. “Kurt, you really don’t have to apologize-”
“But I feel like I do. I’m just- really embarrassed for myself and for my club, so- on behalf of the New Directions, I promise to help you out.”
“And I promise not to ‘take care’ of your guys mob-boss style.”
It’s Kurt’s turn to laugh as he holds out his hand to Blaine for him to shake.
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
*
On Monday morning, Kurt closes the door of his locker only to find Rachel standing behind it.
He jumps, exclaims, “Jesus Christ,” as he grips his notebook closer to his chest. She doesn’t move, stands there with her arms tightly crossed and glares up at him like she’s trying to turn him to stone.
“You scared the crap out of me,” he says, voice hard.
“Is all of this- just- a game to you?” she asks, a tight smile flickers on her lips before it’s gone again. “Everything we’ve worked for this year? Are you trying to blow our shot at Nationals?”
Kurt drops his arms away from his chest, pushes back his shoulders as he bores his eyes into Rachel’s.
“If our shot at Nationals is going to be built on all the people we’ve trampled over this year, then no, I don’t really care if we win or not.”
She scoffs, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “So, you’re just going to give our chance to the enemy? The last chance me and you are ever going to have at this?”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know I’ve been hanging out with Blaine all weekend-”
“Oh, we’re first name basis now? Grreat-”
“But I am going to tell you that I’ve been helping him get Vocal Adrenaline off their backs. That’s all we talked about, we barely even talk about ourselves, we just met for coffee, went to the mall, and talked.”
They did spend all their time in public over the weekend. After the Lima Bean on Saturday, they planned to go to the mall and figure out how the get Blaine’s mess off of his hands. Kurt thought about it all of the night before, felt some nervousness and trepidation about their second meeting because he’d assumed they would venture on into things more personal. He knew it would complicate everything, if he made nice with Blaine, but by the time he fell asleep that night, he started to edge on excitement at the thought.
In the end, though, they stayed strictly on topic. They ventured off every now and again, and it still surprises Kurt how easy it had been to talk to Blaine and how similarly minded they were at times, but those moments didn't last long.
He thought about messaging Blaine once he arrived home. Without any idea of what to say to him, though, he pushed the urge aside.
In its wake came a lot of frustration that lingers with him still. Which is making him really grumpy toward this conversation.
“Why would he need your help with them?”
“Because they’re doing to them what they did to us sophomore year. You remember that, right? How Jesse and his gang taunted us, how they intimidated us, how they egged you. They were nothing but cruel and we hated them.”
Rachel shrugs. “What’s your point?”
“How are we any different from them now? Blaine reached out because he needed help and I’m the only one who he could talk to because you guys have been cyber-bullying everyone.”
Round-eyed, Rachel looks off to the side, every line of her body held like it’s in a pause.
“He’s ‘ticklemykeys’, isn’t he?”
Kurt narrows his eyes, his eyebrows pulling together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if it’s that blogging crap, I’m done hearing about it. I’m going straight to Mr. Schue, I’ll even go to Figgins or Coach Sylvester if I have to. I’ve had it with your tyranny. It ends now.”
His elbow brushes her arm as he walks past her.
“You’re just going to give up on the team like that?” she calls after him.
He keeps walking, turns his head enough for his voice to float over his shoulder. “We’re not a team, we’re a terror.”
He turns the corner and leaves her behind.
*
The sound of singing and laughter float from the back of the bus, up to where Kurt is sitting behind Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury. His skull rattles against the window, his eyes almost crossing as he stares out at the headlight lit tarmac of the highway.
They won, beat the Warblers and Vocal Adrenaline for the trophy and a spot at Nationals. Kurt’s honestly surprised they pulled through – they may have turned themselves on their heads in the months leading to Regionals, had a change of heart and renewed New Directions’ spirit the week before, but they seem to be fated to pull together performances the night before – but he couldn’t be more proud. After a hard talk from Mr. Schue, things went back to how they were, how they should be, and Kurt couldn’t be more grateful for it.
He hasn’t spoken to Blaine in a week, though.
The one time they made eye contact, while Vocal Adrenaline had been performing some overly polished powerhouse number, Blaine had only nodded before turning away. It’d soured the smile Kurt sent him, made him slump down into his seat until the New Directions had to head backstage before their timeslot.
He didn’t really know it until days later, but Kurt had honestly hoped they would become friends. Blaine seemed nice enough, funny enough, personable enough – that could just be his nature, though.
Still, as silly as Kurt feels for it, his heart can’t help but be a little broken.
*
The message reads, I know it’s after midnight and you’re probably still celebrating. :P But I just wanted to tell you congratulations. You guys were truly amazing. Especially your solo (even if it was one line, you killed it). I also want to thank you for all you’ve done for me and the Warblers. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks and I’ve missed talking to you, so...maybe meet me at the Lima Bean tomorrow? Noon?
And, even though it’s all he can do to keep sleep from overtaking his eyes, it’s never been easier to send back a simple, See you then. :)