A/N: Hey :) So this is my first Glee fanfic, meaning that you have to be nice. Actually, you don't, but I prefer constructive criticism to 'you suck!'
Warnings: none, really
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, nor am I affiliated with anyone who does, in fact, own it

Chasing Us All Underground

Chapter 1 Part 1: New Directions

There were two things Kurt hated more than anything: jocks and Rachel Berry. Not to say that Rachel wasn't one of his best friends, but her stupid ability honestly got on his nerves 99 percent of the time. She never knew when it was appropriate to verbalize people's thoughts (because he knew she couldn't not hear them, but she didn't need to share); for example, when Kurt was busy trying to wash artificial coloring out of his hair, it was not the time to blurt out the dirty language he was thinking (or worse, when she did it in front of the jerks responsible for the artificial coloring in his hair). It was not okay to tell Mercedes that he sometimes thought she was colorblind, especially when he specifically thought-told Rachel not to mention that to Mercedes herself. It wasn't appropriate to laugh about the muscle magazines from sophomore year that were hidden under his bed when in the presence of his father. The list continued, and Rachel seemed to love adding on to it. She was indirectly exposing her ability to the entire school of totally ignorant normal people, to top it all off. And that was why Kurt insisted that she was not, in fact, the leader of New Directions. She was no more in control or inconspicuous as the rest of the group. Mr. Shuester, for once, agreed with him and insisted that there were no leaders in New Directions, only friends and equals all searching for assistance in learning how to live normally with their completely abnormal abilities:

Rachel could read minds, and that was amazing, but she needed to work on singling out specific people or perhaps even learning how to turn the ability off when she wanted to. Mercedes saw glimpses of the future, but she had no control over when she saw them or what they were of for the most part. Quinn could stop time; Mr. Shue was hopeful that she would learn how to rewind or fast forward through it at will. Puck was exceptionally strong and Santana was fast on an equivalent level; both defied their teacher's suggestion that they would have an unfair advantage in sports and joined anyway. Sam could suggest things that took root in a person's mind, most of which were followed out but he was working on making them demands instead of suggestions. Finn could fly (clumsily) and Artie could teleport limited distances (luckily with whatever he was touching, so the wheelchair went with him). Tina was becoming an expert at morphing any feature of her body. Mike was indefinitely flexible; he was still working on pushing previous limits and still being able to snap back to his usual form. Brittany, after an unfortunate falling-through-the-floor incident, was still working on controlling her intangibility. And Kurt was the Ice Queen (King, he would say, but he knew what the others said behind his back thanks to Rachel), still trying to freeze vapor/gas out of the air instead of just already liquid or solid objects. It was a slow process for everyone.

Not to mention that their group's cover was a high school show choir. That required extra practices and competitions just to remain intact, totally dominating everyone's schedules. While Kurt loved singing and performing, he was not wholly supportive of their continuance as a glee club. There was only so much time he wanted to spend with these people as they frequently annoyed or upset him with their stupidity. Plus he still had all six of his classes, most of which were Advanced Placement, and all homework assignments, tests, and study sessions included in them. He was only a junior and yet he felt as stressed out and busy as most adults complained to be.

"Kurt! You weren't even listening! How am I supposed to get feedback on my solo if you aren't paying attention?"

Eleven sets of eyes were on him, one irritated and most just as bored as he was but humoring Rachel.

"I heard that Noah. No, I am not a control freak!" the small brunette glanced briefly at the Mohawk-haired teen before returning her glare to Kurt.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. But as you could probably hear, I was busy contemplating how to finish my French essay with enough time to spare to read most of my English book and get enough sleep to be civilized tomorrow."

"My solo is the most important thing right now Kurt. Sectionals is this weekend!"

"And I'm sure you'll pull through. But if I want to get out of this town one day then I have to keep my grades up."

That made the girl shut up momentarily. There wasn't a single person in New Directions that didn't harbor some hope of escaping Lima, Ohio as soon as they were finished with high school. The small town, while not the worst place on earth, was far too sheltered, small-minded, and claustrophobic for all of its inhabitants. Teenagers were more subject to this knowledge than those too old to dream or too young to see reality. There were skeletons in everyone's closets, demons lurking just within the city's borders that would not dare to follow them if only they could run away. Some, like Kurt and Rachel, dreamt of New York City, where Broadway was undoubtedly waiting to cradle their talents and the freedom of the bustling city would be home to them. Others dreamt only as far as Columbus or Cincinnati, maybe Kentucky or Virginia, but still away from their roots. Of course, Mr. Shuester tried to reason with them. He claimed that they would have to work harder, then, on controlling their powers because there was no way they could walk around a big city deafened by the throng of thoughts around them or accidentally walking through someone if they got nervous. It was dangerous outside Lima, where they weren't accustomed to living. He tried to facilitate their dreams while at the same time attempting to shine some realism on them. It never worked.

"We have this in the bag anyway, Rachel," Finn grinned brightly. "There's no way a bunch of old people can beat us."

"Don't forget the Garglers-" Puck began, pausing only to roll his eyes at Kurt's correction of "Warblers."

"They're a bunch of pansies from gay Hogwarts," interjected Santana.

"Just because it's an all-boys school, Satan," Kurt snapped icily, "doesn't mean they're all gay."

"You just hope one of them will offer to remove that stick from your ass, Ice Queen."

Mr. Shue decided then to waltz through the door with an excited smile, followed closely by Ms. Pillsbury. They were both gifted with abilities themselves: Mr. Shuester could manipulate memories while Ms. Pillsbury was able to heal most injuries (except, of course, those inflicted on her). Both seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. Mr. Shue pulled a black marker from his bag and approached the white board at the front of the room. He quickly wrote out the word 'Sectionals' the same way he had for the previous two days and then faced his students.

"Sectionals are in three days! So, we need to finalize our set list."

"Why is Ms. Pillsbury here?" Tina piped in.

Mike nodded from beside his girlfriend, "Yeah, she only comes for training."

"We're also going to be doing a training exercise today!"

Everyone groaned.

"Don't worry; it will be basic since I know you're all focused on being a show choir right now."

"Mr. Shue," Rachel ignored all of the 'here she goes again' that she overheard, "I have prepared a solo for the competition that I-"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm Rachel, but I think it's time we shared some other talents. While I know you all joined because of your gifts, it has also been obvious that you can all carry a note nicely, and I hear that Brittany and Mike are exceptional dancers. I want to showcase someone besides just Rachel and Finn this year."

"Finally!" Mercedes exhaled in exasperation.

"So that is why I am giving solos to Santana, Sam, Quinn. I want Sam and Quinn to sing our opening duet, and then we'll have Santana's number, which will have to include the group as well. Also I want to have Mike and Brittany choreograph a routine to put somewhere so we can spotlight it."

"I already know what I want to sing," Santana insisted. "Amy Winehouse's "Valerie"."

"Brittany and I could totally put something together for that."

"Sam and I will sing "The Time of My Life"."

"Is it the apocalypse?" Mercedes whispered into Kurt's ear. "We have a set list before the day of the competition."

The porcelain teen chuckled and linked his arm with his best friend's. "Only time will tell."

"Come on, Kurt! Work harder! Concentrate!"

Kurt felt his eye twitch in irritation, staring at the same spot in determination that he had been for over ten minutes. He knew there was water in that air somewhere, something he could freeze, but he just couldn't get it to work! He liked to blame nature for making the states of matter so difficult to go between, especially from a gas straight to a solid. He could turn rain to snow up in the atmosphere if he wanted to, but on a normal November afternoon that did not seem to be such a feat when faced with the task of turning water vapor to ice in a quantity that was useful to him.

"Mercedes!" He cried out. "Can you see if I'm ever going to get this stupid thing?"

The other diva was not amused, having broken her trancelike state in attempting to find out the answer to the specific question Mr. Shue had assigned to her for the day ('What is the name of the next President?'). "Figure it out for yourself, white boy. I'm busy."

He blew a strand of hair out of his face in response.

"Kurt! Stop projecting! I'm trying to block you out but you're too loud," Rachel complained.

Sectionals: the smell of desperation hung in the air behind the stage as New Directions double checked their make-up and costumes. By lot they had gotten stuck with going first, and while Rachel was hoping to be the big finish, nothing they could have done would change the line-up. Not to say that she hadn't tried to convince Mr. Shue to just alter a few memories here and there to get them the proper spot, but he would not have it. Certain short, brunette drama queens had sworn an oath of silence until they were guaranteed at least the second performance; no one took Rachel seriously because they knew she could not resist the urge to sing, even if it was only in the background. She had already given up on her promise not to spill the other choirs' set lists until they had already gone on. That lasted all of five minutes, and then the group was made aware that the Warblers were performing "Hey, Soul Sister" and the seniors were singing some hit from the fifties that no one had ever heard of before. Rachel, of course, suggested that if they were to be stuck going first then they should just "borrow" the Warblers' number so that the other teens would be unprepared. While Puck and Quinn seemed to consider it momentarily, no one else agreed that that would be a good idea.

A light flashed overhead while a buzz sounder, signaling their call to the stage. San and Quinn departed to go behind the audience while the others stood on the stage's risers with their backs facing the curtain, waiting for their teammates to reach them.

"And now, from McKinley High in Lima, Ohio: the New Directions!"

The music started to cover up the boys' snickers at the announcer's perceived word jumble.

"A tie!" screamed Rachel. "How can there be a tie?"

The whole of New Directions turned to glare at her.

"Thanks for ruining that one for us, Berry." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I'm assuming that you meant the Warblers," said Kurt in annoyance, "because I doubt the other group was convincing enough as a show choir with their hip replacements giving out and their denture glue winking at the judges."

"Yes, of course I meant the Warblers. How could this have happened? It's because I didn't get the solo, I'm sure of it! Look at what you did, Santana!"

"I got us that tie," Santana nodded. "You would have given first place to gay Hogwarts-"

"Santana!" Kurt shouted angrily.

"I calls it how it is, Hummel. Not that I wouldn't mind getting it on with some of those prep school boys, but they scream 'homo' with every birdy note."

"I thought they were birds, not dolphins." Brittany tilted her head in confusion.

"They're both, I guess." Finn smiled (although he was equally confused by the entire conversation).

"I'm going to get a drink," huffed Kurt.

He made his way out of their backstage dressing room and into the main lobby, where people meandered aimlessly while waiting for the results. No one that he recognized was there; no one from school would come to support the glee club, and his father and his stepmother were at work even though they wanted to come. He nodded at a few of the older competitors that smiled and congratulated his team on their amazing performance. Kurt spotted a few blue blazers around and contemplated whether or not Rachel would consider it fraternizing with the enemy if he said anything to them. Deciding that it was best not to risk one of her rants, he approached the concession stand and stood in boredom behind the rest of the line.

"You're in New Directions, right?" a voice called from behind him.

He spun around to face a Warbler he recognized as the lead singer, and no, he most certainly had not spent most of their performance drooling over the boy's dreamy voice and good looks. He was relatively short, maybe two inches under Kurt's height, with hair that was contained under a helmet of gel. His hazel eyes seemed to stare right through his soul, as cliché as that was.

"Y-yeah. And you're in…the Warblers?" The public school student pretended to be unsure.

"Yes," the other boy smiled. Kurt practically swooned. "I loved your performance. You really have some gifts at McKinley."

"Oh yes, gifts we have plenty of," Kurt said back, half to himself. "I mean- I loved you guys too. It was really… unique. I've never heard Train sung acapella."

"I'm Blaine." The shorter of the two stuck out his hand.

"Kurt." He would swear to the death that the feeling of Blaine's slightly calloused hands, obviously from playing guitar (which was swoon-worthy itself), did not make him blush from his neck to his toes.

"Well, good luck to you and your group, Kurt. You deserve to win."

They didn't say anything else until Kurt had bought his Diet Coke, and then all that was exchanged was a quick 'bye'. It was a far cry from the beginnings of a friendship, but Kurt liked to think that it only proved his theory that Rachel was full of ignorance and that not everyone was as competitive and out to steal set lists. His smug smile and the thoughts of the encounter running through his head when he was close enough to the girl to project served to make her frown deepen and her arms to cross. It was an accomplishment that Kurt personally wanted to thank Blaine the Warbler for, but figured it would sound strange if he did.

Then again, contemplating the pros and cons of every color known to man in order to picture the perfect tuxedo for said Warbler might have been the slightest bit stranger when put in the context of imagining one's wedding to a person they didn't even know the last name of.