A KLAINE/ PUCKOFSKY FANFIC
What I did for love
Author's note:
This story focuses mainly around Blaine and Kurt, and takes place after the Christmas episode, in the New Year. It switches back and forth between McKinley and Dalton.
I worship infraredphaeton (livejournal) as my personal lord and saviour, so my portrayal of Wes and David are very much influenced by that. Thankyou, Infraredphaeton, for letting me use your Wes and David traits! Naturally, Infra writes them far better than I do, so if you enjoy laugh-out-loud comedy and addictively brilliant fanfics, please go to livejournal and check out infraredphaeton's Spah 'verse.
Rated: T for teen hormones and the shinanigans they tend to cause.
Warning: shameless use of AVPM quotes; let me know how many you can find ; )
Pairings: Klaine, Puckofsky, implied Puckurt and Brittana. Actually, it's all quite tame; I cannot write smut to save my life; I get all awkward and can feel my laptop judging me.
Don't worry, Klaine is the only relationship that is real, even if they are taking a long time. Those boys are sooo freaking slow! It's alot more fun to draw it out ; )
I try to write as true to the show as possible; all events in the show are noted, and no characters have major personality or sexual orientation changes.
p.s. i know what you're thinking, but trust me, the Puckofsky thing will make sense.
Enjoy!
***I do not own Glee, Starkid, or a decent pair of sunglasses.
...
CHAPTER 1: IN WHICH I FEATURE LONGING SIGHS AND A LACK OF FASHION.
Warning: severe fashion crises, boypining, angst, too much homework.
*DALTON *
It was late evening at Dalton and the snow was falling softly outside. Kurt was in the common room, curled cat-like on a couch by the fire. The slender brunette supposed to be finishing his first piece of homework for the New Year, but found his mind wandering; the last time he'd studied in this room, he'd ended up singing a swoon-worthy duet with Blaine. It also didn't help that his basic French review seemed to be conspiring against him.
Je chant i sing
Tu chantes you sing
Il chant he sings
Oh he sings alright. It's like nothing I've ever experianced. He's got fire, passion... and that voice...
Kurt usually breezed through the romantic language, and though he tried his best to focus on conjugating his verbs, Blaine kept mercilessly appearing in his thoughts.
How a boy can look so cute singing about pneumonia is beyond me.
Just remembering the look in Blaine's eyes made his heart flutter. He let out a loud sigh.
Focus, Kurt. Focus. On. Homework.
But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the dark-eyed singer off his mind. He'd admitted it to Mr. Shue, and he admitted it to himself: Kurt was crushing on Blaine. Crushing hard. But Blaine clearly wasn't interested in him.
His cell phone buzzed, a welcome distraction: a text from Mercedes Jones.
wazzup white boy? ~M
hey cedes. Trying 2 concentr8 on hmwrk :P ~K
thinkin of sexi B instead? ;) ~M
kurt chuckled at the new nick-name for Blaine.
Nice, Mercedes. I have a feeling I won't be forgetting that one anytime soon.
U caught me :/ ~K
Mercedes knew, of course; she could read her BFF like a flashing neon billboard, especially when they hung out in person, which was rarer these days due to the distance. Kurt thought back to their conversation last weekend...
The pair had been sitting in Mercedes' bedroom, getting their mani-pedi on (Kurt's demanding schedule at Dalton was beginning to infringe on his beauty routine), when the girl had casually asked about Blaine. One look at Kurt's face told her everything.
"Aww hell naw, white boy! You fall too fast and you fall too hard." She sighed. "You really like him eh?"
"I never said tha-"
"Oh shutup. I can see it all over your face;" she waggled a glittering finger at him "Your eyes tell me stories."
Kurt scowled and muttered something about wearing sunglasses from now on.
"Just be careful. I don't need my man getting his heart broken on top of everything else."
"I can handle it, Mercedes, besides, nothing's going to happen. He doesn't think about me that way."
Mercedes had shot him her signature bitch, please! look and proceeded to list all the nice things Blaine had done for her friend.
It was true, Blaine had been friendly, charming, and gone out of his way to help the younger boy. The thing was, Blaine was like that with everyone; he was just a kind, outgoing person.
Kurt also couldn't help but notice that Blaine sometimes distanced himself from Kurt, and behaved a bit less indulgently towards him than at other times. The mixed signals clearly meant one thing:
I'm just a friend to him. He doesn't want me to get the wrong idea.
Another text jolted him out of his thoughts.
dads callin srry gtg ~M
ttyl cedes xoxo ~K
nite! xoxo ~M
Kurt slid his phone back into his pocket and began absentmindedly stroking his cashmere scarf. It was a comfort item, a Christmas gift from Carole. She was no fashionista, but Kurt was glad to have someone in the house who could appreciate the difference between Marc Jacobs and Wal-Mart. The scarf was lovely, a light shade of blue, not so vivid as to clash with his Dalton blazer, but bright enough to bring out his eyes.
A nice green scarf would bring out Blaine's hazel eyes, as if they needed any more help in being utterly gorgeous.
Kurt sighed again, louder than he meant to.
"Hey new kid!" David's voice chirped from the doorway, "I heard that sigh from my bat-cave and decided to come to your rescue."
He and Wes strode into the room, flanking Blaine; the Trinity had arrived.
"What do you have for homework that is so darn depressing?"
Kurt took one look at Wes and let out a shriek. "Wes! Oh my GOD what are you wearing!"
" Hey, it's the evening," said Wes nonchalantly, "I'm allowed to be comfy. Plus, you'd probably dress like me if you didn't have a sick obsession with blazers."
"I don't think I can do that morally!"
The atrocity Wes was sporting consisted of camouflage pj pants, an orange soccer jersey, and on his feet were a pair of dirty, ragged bunny slippers- one was missing an eye and Kurt had a sneaking suspicion Wes only wore them when his dog wasn't using them as a chew toy.
Blaine looked his friend up and down thoughtfully, "Yeah," he concluded, "it is a bit much."
"My eyes are bleeding." muttered Kurt
Wes plopped himself down next to the fashionista. "Ahhh, c'est la francais que tu-derange! I'll help you with your homework; I may be frumpy but I'm super smart."
"David!" Kurt whined, "I need some McQueen between me and this monstrosity; I'm afraid it might be contagious."
"David sucks at French." said Wes, leaning over to read Kurt's paper. Kurt gasped and made the evil eye sign towards jersey.
"Fermez la bouche, Monsieur Bunny Abomination!" said David, who was sprawled across the back of the couch, "This year I plan to study a lot."
"I'll protect you!" said Blaine gallantly, squishing himself onto the couch, in between Kurt and the cause of his distress.
Wes and David covertly bumped fists behind Blaine's head.
"There." Blaine sounded pleased with himself. "Better?" Blaine flashed his dazzling grin about 6 inches from Kurt's face.
"Yes!" Kurt squeaked, and found himself wishing desperately for a pair of sunglasses.
*MICKINLEY*
Noah Puckerman leaned against his locker, scowling. He was having a really bad day: Firstly, Lauren Zises had quit the Glee Club, announcing "Show choir is stupid. Plus it interferes with my wrestling schedule."
"No!" Rachel had leapt dramatically out of her seat.
Lauren just rolled her eyes and left the room, leaving a flurry of panicked discussion in her wake.
"But we need 12 members to compete at Regionals!" said Artie.
"What are we gonna do?" wailed Tina.
"No one else is going to join Glee;" Mike looked stricken "we're still losers!"
"Even my Barbies refuse to join Glee." Brittany whispered.
"Guys! Guys! Calm down, it's ok," Mr. Shuester interjected, "we'll find someone, we'll figure it out."
But even had looked disappointed, and behind the crossed arms and scowl, Puck felt pretty bad; he'd told Shue he could count on him to bring in more members as the Glee Club's Am-bad-ass-ador, and he had failed.
Secondly, Santana, who was in a particularly catty mood that day, had flatly refused his offer of dinner at the Stix.
Puck was baffled. "But it's Breadstix!"
"Yeah," she retorted "and you're a looser. You don't have the mojo anymore! You can't even keep Zises in Glee Club, you're not allowed to fight cuz you're still on probation, and you look like an ex-con who's been on the inside since 1998." The Latina looked him up and down, taking in his baggy jeans and army boots. "Plus I've got a hot date with Brittany tonight."
Remembering the last time he'd needed a popularity boost, Puck decided to make Santana a bit jealous. He cornered Mercedes in the cafeteria, but the sassy diva shot him down too.
"Nuh-uh, Puckerman. I ain't doin' that again, aaaaand i got my eye on someone else." She smirked in the direction of the football table. "Also I need a man whose threads complement my style."
Since when has anyone cared about my clothes? Do they really suck?
Starting to get desperate, the mohawked jock had gone to his buddy, Finn.
"I dunno, man," Finn looked stumped, "Miss Pillsbury recommended sunglasses one time, but... uh... they didn't really work out. Keeps the slushie out of your eyes though," he added helpfully.
Puck was so worried about Glee and his bad-boy image that he accidently went to all his classes that day, and his teachers had given him loads of extra homework because they were never sure when they'd see him again. So now he had a giant pile of homework on top of it all. Great.
Come on Puckerman, you are this school's number one badass! Pull it together!
"Hey Noah!" a chirpy brunette appeared in front of him "What's wrong? You look uncharacteristically pensive."
Puck wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. "Apparently my duds don't make the bad-boy cut." He replied, ticked-off, "Jacob Ben Israel had the nerve to look me in the eye at lunch today."
"I notice you haven't been on top of your game lately." she admitted, "It sounds like you need to refresh your image, and as a fellow Jew, you've helped me out on occasion. Let me return the favour." She shot him a winning smile.
"I appreciate the thought, Rachel, but granny sweaters and knee socks aren't really my thing."
"A valid point, however," Rachel continued airily, tossing her hair, "What I lack in looks I make up in heart- something Finn clearly fails to appreciate. So I'll send you to someone who can help." She took Puck's phone, entered something and walked away, pleased with her good deed.
Puck looked down at the screen.
Of course.
.