Stress and Strain (Short Ver)

Kurt felt his breath lodge in his throat as he looked down at the printout in his hands. Knuckles whitening, he gripped at the glossy paper, before he tore his gaze away and fixed his eyes on Sebastian's face.

He took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

Two Days Earlier

"Good moooorning Ohio!" Blaine all but sang down the phone.

"Blaine, it has to be like three am over there," Kurt groaned back, glancing at his clock. It was six o'clock in the morning – a whole hour before he had to be awake. "How are you even awake, let alone forming coherent sentences?"

"We had a late night shoot," Blaine replied. "I haven't slept in over twenty-nine hours and it feels fan-tas-tic!"

"Who shot you up with caffeine?" Kurt grumbled. "Because they need to be shot themselves."

"You don't really mean that," Blaine told him playfully.

"No, I don't," Kurt admitted with a sigh. Well, he was awake now, he supposed. He might as well be doing things. "So, how are things down your end?"

Kurt could picture Blaine shrugging on the other end of the phone. "Pretty good," he answered. "I have a couple of days free from Rational Fear, so Wendy's organised for me to pop down to the Collision Course set and sing them some demos."

"Sounds like fun," Kurt commented, rolling out of bed and crossing his dorm room.

"Well, I'll get to keep regular sleeping patterns for a couple of days, so…" Blaine drifted off. "What about you? Dalton treating you well?"

Kurt set himself up at his desk, sinking into the chair there and propping his head up with his hand. "It's nice," Kurt said slowly. "I mean, it's not McKinley, so there's that. I miss my friends, but the Dalton kids seem nice."

"Make any friends?" Blaine asked.

"A few," Kurt hedged. "Some of the members of the show choir here – the Warblers, that is – eat lunch with me each day. Jeff even talked about blackmailing the Council into getting me an audition, so we'll see how that goes. Me and another new kid want to audition."

"That must be nice," Blaine observed. "You know, to have someone else new at the same time as you."

Kurt made a comme ci comme ça gesture with his hand before realising that Blaine couldn't see it. "I guess," he shrugged. "Sebastian's kind of an ass, though. How long do you have before you have to hit the sack?"

"'Bout half an hour," Blaine said, but broke off half-way to yawn. "'S nice talking to you, though."

Kurt smiled, leaning back in his chair. "So, do you want to hear about my plan for the day?"

"Including your moisturising routine?" asked Blaine.

"Of course."

Breakfast at Dalton was taken in the dining hall, and was on most days a continental-type selection of cereals, fresh fruit and various bread rolls. It was very European – not that Kurt minded in the least – and, much like the other meals at Dalton, primarily a social event.

Kurt carried his tray of fresh fruit and low-fat yoghurt through the maze of grand oak tables, weaving in between the carefully gelled heads of his fellow students until he found Jeff and Nick. Nick spotted him and waved him over.

Kurt arrived at the table just in time to see Wes shooting Jeff dirty looks, all the while Nick and David looked particularly exasperated.

"Is something going on that I should know about?" Kurt asked, placing his tray next to Nick's.

"They're having an argument," Nick answered.

Wes rolled his eyes. "It's not an argument; it's a disagreement," he stated. "And you know I'm right, Jeff."

Kurt sighed, stirring his yoghurt through with a spoon. "What's your problem today, Wes?"

"My problem?" Wes sputtered indignantly. "My problem is that Jeff cares more about sticks and balls than being a Warbler."

Kurt raised his eyebrows, turning to David. "I'm missing something," he said flatly. When he got no response, his tone turned pleading. "Please tell me I'm missing something."

David sighed, dropping his spoon onto his tray loudly. "Jeff has a lacrosse match scheduled for the same time as one of the Warblers' planned performances," he explained, sounding very tired of the argument already.

"Is that really that big of a deal?" Kurt asked, because, honestly? Wes acting like Jeff was defecting to a foreign power was a bit of an overreaction.

Across the table from Kurt, Nick shrugged. "It's more because Jeff and I are the only soloists in the Warblers with strong enough voices to carry the songs Wes had picked out," he elaborated, but Kurt could tell he was pretty bored of the argument as well. "I mean, normally I'd tell them not to sweat it, because I could step in, but this performance takes place when I'm not in the country, let alone at school, so the Warblers are pretty screwed without Jeff. Wes, though, is mostly just pissed because Jeff's excuse is actually a good one."

"It's the state championships, Wes!" Jeff exclaimed exasperatedly. "I can't just not turn up. I'm the goalie – that's a pretty key position, okay?"

"Well, who's going to take the lead in our set, huh?" Wes asked. "I'll have to hold auditions all over again, then probably rewrite the entirety of our set-list to fit the new guy's voice, and then create a cappella arrangements for the new songs and then somehow compress weeks of preparation into three two-hour practice sessions."

"How important is this performance?" Kurt asked.

David sighed. "It's a sponsorship thing," he explained. "One of Dalton's many, many fundraising events. The head asked us to perform and it wasn't exactly like we could say no to that, so…" He trailed off, shrugging again.

"Look," Jeff said to Wes. "There are tons of Warblers who would kill to get a solo. You may have to tone down the song selection, but—"

"I'll do it."

All conversation halted immediately. Both Wes and Jeff froze in their places, turning their heads in sync to stare at Kurt.

"What was that?" Jeff asked slowly.

Normally, Kurt adored attention. This just made him feel uncomfortable. "I could do it, I guess?" he hedged. "I don't want to blow my own horn or anything, but I can carry a solo decently enough."

Wes narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, before looking to David. It was like there was an entire conversation held between them in silent looks, before Wes nodded and David pulled out his smartphone in a smooth flourish.

As David started to scroll through his music library, Wes turned to Kurt. "What's your range?"

"Counter-tenor."

David's fingers froze over his touch screen. There was another silent exchange between him and Wes.

"Soprano range?" David asked. At Kurt's nod, he openly gaped. "Really? Like, legit? You're not fucking with us just for laughs?"

Kurt looked confusedly between the table's occupants. "Yes…" he said hesitantly. "Why would I lie about that?"

By now, Wes was positively drooling, his spat with Jeff completely forgotten. "Do you have any idea how rare that is?" he all but demanded. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Kurt shrugged. "I thought I did," he said. "I did tell you I used to be in my old school's glee club, right? I just thought I had to wait until after sectionals to audition."

"No," Jeff shook his head. "You don't get to deflect about this. Like hell we'd have deferred you that long if we'd known that you were a counter-tenor, Kurt. Besides, you weren't the reason we postponed new member auditions until post-sectionals."

David looked up from his phone long enough to slap Jeff on the arm, as if to tell him to shut the hell up.

"What?" Jeff continued. "You can't deny it. Everyone knows that he's the real reason Wes put a stop to the auditions—ow!" Jeff flinched in pain, before turning to Wes. "What the hell, Wes?"

"Jeff, given that I'm not currently plotting how to kill you – and let's be honest, I could probably get away with it – for bailing on the Warblers in their time of need," Wes stated, "I think it might be in your best interests to halt die Klappe and not give me reason to reconsider."

Jeff and Wes shared an intense look, before Jeff made a face. "Fine," he conceded. "But can I just say that if the Warblers were that strapped for cash I would happily donate my entire allowance for this month if it meant you got off my back about the dumbass fundraiser."

Wes raised his eyebrows at Jeff – a gesture so reminiscent of a disapproving father it was scary – and the blond boy shrunk.

"Fine, fine, fine," Jeff conceded. "I'll shut up."

David looked to Wes. "We should do it," he said. "Who knows? Maybe You Know Who will suck."

Wes shared an oddly intense look with David before he relented. "Fine." He sighed. "Auditions are this afternoon. Alert the troops."

David-is-Cool: TO ALL WARBLERS AND POTENTIAL WARBLERS: DUE TO UNEXPECTED CIRCUMSTANCES, NEW MEMBER AND SOLO AUDITIONS WILL BE BEING HELD TODAY, AS OPPOSED TO AT A LATER DATE. PLEASE BE IN THE PRACTICE ROOM BY 1640 HRS AT THE VERY LATEST.

On_A_ThadDiet: Please tell me you're kidding.

AsianDomination: I wish we were. Fact of the matter is: we need a soloist for the fundraiser and neither Nick nor Jeff can do it. Kurt said he'd do it, but he needs to audition beforehand.

On_A_ThadDiet: Ever think of asking me to do it?

AsianDomination: You have tonsillitis, Thad. Even I'm not that sadistic.

On_A_ThadDiet: Whatever. Do I have to be in the room with You Know Who, or can I be excused?

AsianDomination: I may not be sadistic, but if I have to be there…

On_A_ThadDiet: Fine. Just… Keep any sharp objects as far away from me as possible. I don't trust myself not to be driven to killing either him or myself.

"Wakey, wakey, Blaine. Up and at 'em!"

Blaine groaned, rolling over and wrapping the covers tighter around himself. "Leave me 'lone," he murmured into his pillow.

Suddenly, Blaine felt his duvet being tugged off him, exposing his bare arms and legs to the cold air in his bedroom. Although he tried to snuggle into the mattress, it didn't do much, so he instead opened his eyes and openly glared at Wendy, who was standing above him, holding his duvet hostage.

"What?" he demanded.

"You needed to be up half an hour ago," Wendy stated dryly. "We have an interview across town in about fifty minutes and you look like shit."

Blaine rolled himself out of bed, thudding his feet onto the floor with no less grace than a hippopotamus. "Gee, thanks, Wendy," he snarked at her. "Just what every guy wants to hear."

"God, you're cranky as hell when you're tired," Wendy observed. "Go on, shower. I'll make you some breakfast."

She turned around and strutted out of the room, her court shoes clicking against the wooden floor. Blaine stared blearily after her, before he pushed away from the bed and shuffled into his bathroom.

Blaine made quick work of his shower, and towelled himself dry efficiently. After slipping into a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt, he gelled his hair down and traipsed into the kitchen.

Wendy was digging through his fridge, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I swear, the only fresh thing you have in here is milk," she told Blaine.

"I don't really eat in much," Blaine informed her easily.

Wendy just raised her eyebrows, sliding a spoon and a bowl of dry cereal across to him and pouring milk into it.

"I never took you for a bran flakes kinda guy," she said.

Blaine shrugged, scooping a mouthful of cereal. "Don't tell my fans."

At that, Wendy laughed, leaning forward on the counter top. "You're tired," she observed. "I'm sorry things have been so packed lately, but we kind of have to get as much in as possible to make up for your impromptu holiday in Ohio."

"Ishfahn," Blaine said through a mouthful of cereal. He swallowed, then repeated the sentence. "It's fine."

Wendy scrunched up her face in distaste. "Charming," she affirmed.

Suddenly, Blaine's phone bleeped with a text, and the actor practically dove across the counter to grab it and read it. Almost immediately, Wendy watched an ear-splitting grin spread across Blaine's face.

Okay, Wendy observed. That wasn't usual. "What was that?"

Blaine was all innocence. "What was what?" he asked, pocketing his phone quickly.

"The phone," Wendy said flatly. "The text. Who was it?"

Blaine shrugged. "A friend."

"A friend," Wendy echoed dumbly. "A friend whose texts make you look like someone just told you Christmas was coming early."

"A good friend," Blaine amended.

Wendy wasn't convinced, but she let it go. "Does this good friend have a name?" she asked dryly.

And there it was again – Blaine's face broke into a blinding smile. Wendy could feel the fangirls already swooning.

"Kurt," he said.

I just got an earlier audition for the Warblers!

Who'd you have to kill?

No one important. :P I didn't think you'd be up. You got in pretty late last night.

Yeah. Well. Wendy is something of a slave driver. She's driving me to an interview right now.

Is there any reason that Wendy drives you everywhere, Blaine? I know for a fact that you can drive.

Apparently, I don't have a great record with not hitting pedestrians.

Ah. So, what's the interview about?

Smooth, Kurt. Very smooth. As for the interview, it's for some teenage girl magazine. Should be fun.

Oh, teenage girls. What fun. So, Blaine, have you got your answer prepared to the immortal, unanswered question?

42?

No. Boxers or briefs?

Are you attempting to seduce me, Mr Hummel?

I like to think I'm not that unsubtle.

In any case… You'll have to find out the same way as everybody else. Read the magazine.

Oh no. I think I'll be able to find out just fine on my own.

Shit. GTG. TTFN.

TTFN?

Kurt?

Kurt?

Damn tease.

"Those must be some pretty spicy texts to make you blush like that, Hot Stuff."

Kurt jumped slightly at the sound of the voice, whirling around to come face to face with a smirking Sebastian Smythe. Since meeting the guy two days ago, Kurt had yet to see his face making any other expression – a feat that was either impressive or disturbing, Kurt had yet to decide.

"Hello Sebastian," Kurt replied cordially, slipping his phone back into his blazer pocket. "How are you today?"

"Ecstatic," Sebastian answered. "Thanks for asking. You?"

"Struggling to decide if I'm irritated by or indifferent to your presence," Kurt stated, glancing once again at the closed door. He turned to face Sebastian. "No offence, but what are you doing here?"

Kurt didn't really know what to think about Sebastian, in all honesty. On the one hand, Sebastian was exceedingly sharp and quick-witted and it seemed like he was made for good conversation, but, well, Kurt hadn't been lying when he told Blaine the kid was an ass. There was something about Sebastian's confidence that danced on a fine line towards arrogance, and Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that Sebastian was treating every single one of their interactions like a deeply amusing game of chess.

Sebastian leant back against a wall, smiling once more. "The same thing as you are, I'd presume," he drawled.

"Auditions," Kurt said with a nod. "You any good?"

Sebastian's smile turned salacious. "The best."

"That has yet to be proven," a voice came from behind the two of them. Both Kurt and Sebastian whirled around in perfect sync, coming face to face with Wes slouching against the doorframe. A perfect smile spread out across Wes' face. "We're ready for you."

Lips curling, Sebastian looked to Kurt. "Best of luck," he said. Kurt couldn't decide if he sounded smug or condescending. Either way, his dislike for Sebastian rose several levels.

Kurt took a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Head tilted to the side, he smiled widely and fully at Sebastian. "Break a leg," he said.

I'm gonna level with you guys here. I don't think I will ever finish this story. Or this chapter. I do have reasons, including the fact that I don't really have the motivation and that I now write in the present tense and going back to the past tense feels awkward and forced and weird. I just felt like I owed it to you guys to put up what I have already. If you wanna know what I had planned to happen, leave a review and I'll PM you. You can find me on tumblr where I'm daswarschonkaputt, or on AO3 where I'm DasWarSchonKaputt. I have some cool klaine stories there that I probably won't move over onto FF.

Sorry, I guess.

-Kaputt