Rating: PG 13
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, background Finchel, Sam/Quinn and Mike/Tina. Ensemble.
Spoilers: Some guy called Blaine exists.
Warnings: Some swearing. Kurt's really stressed, okay? Also, idealistic and very fluffy.
Summary: Kurt's Senior Prom doesn't turn out like he expects.
Notes: Written for http://community.livejournal.com/glee_fl
Prom night is supposed to be the most magical night of your high school life. At least, that’s what the movies would have you believe. Kurt, being a jaded, cynical gay boy growing up in Lima, Ohio, may have fantasized about Prom before, but never really put much stock in its reality.
However, even he didn’t account for having to spend it like this.
“You don’t even love Sam!” Rachel accuses, straining against Kurt’s desperate hold. Ordinarily he wouldn’t be bothering, but he styled both Quinn and Rachel’s hair tonight, and hell if he’s just going to just sit back and watch them tear it out. “You’re just going out with him because it increases your popularity and your chances of becoming Prom Queen, a title which you do not deserve!”
Kurt thinks that there is some truth in this, but he’s willing to bet that Quinn has also recently rekindled her relationship with Sam because a) he wants to be Prom King a lot more than Puck, and b) because he colour coordinates with her. However, Quinn is clearly not ready to admit to this, as she flushes angrily and strains against Lauren’s half-hearted but immovable hold.
“Like you and Finn will last past the graduation? How many times have you two broken up in the past three years, huh? Do you really believe that you can keep that going without school and Glee Club to force you back together?!”
Oh crap. She’d hit on one of Rachel’s biggest insecurities. Kurt feels Rachel go slack for a moment, and takes the opportunity to jump in. “Ladies, please get a grip. That crappy plastic crown is not worth it!” Seriously, where the hell were Finn and Sam when one needed them to restrain their psychotic girlfriends? Oh right, probably beating each other up in the hall over the exact same thing. Fuck this, Kurt regrets ever being remotely excited about prom. He finally has a boyfriend, but hasn’t even had the time to slow dance with him yet, and Blaine is currently nowhere to be seen.
Not. Fucking. Worth it.
But Rachel has gained a fresh surge of righteous fury, and Kurt has to practically pick her up by the waist in order to keep her from clawing Quinn’s eyes out. He spares a glare for Lauren, who is having an easier time holding Quinn back with one hand while nonchalantly sipping from a cup of punch than him, who has to throw every ounce of his strength into keeping midget Rachel at bay.
Honestly, he’s on the verge of giving up and letting them have at it, because Figgins is speaking about something on stage, and he can barely hear it over the girls’ shrieking.
“. . . and your . . . other Prom King? . . . ah, this is unorthodox, but . . . Kurt Hummel!”
A blank silence befalls the hall, and everyone’s head slowly turns to where Quinn and Rachel are fighting. But they’re not looking at the two girls; they’re looking at him. Kurt Hummel. The . . . what the ever-loving fuck?
He doesn’t realize he’s dropped Rachel until she gives a tiny squeak of surprise. She and Quinn are no longer screaming at each other, but have joined everyone else in staring at him in shock. He meets Blaine’s wide, surprised eyes on stage, where the other boy has, apparently, just been crowned Prom King #1. Huh. He must have missed that.
“Kurt?” Rachel gasps.
“Kurt?” Finn’s confused face looms nearby over the crowd.
“Kurt!” Brittany squealed from somewhere near the snack table.
“I . . . did someone spike the punch?” he stage-whispers to the girls. “Because I think I’m hallucinating.”
Lauren drains the rest of her cup, having already let go of Quinn. “The punch is most definitely spiked,” she declares. “But you’re still the Prom Queen, or King, or whatever. You’d better get that shapely ass on stage before your boyfriend faints.”
He can’t move. He can’t even twitch.
“Kurt,” Quinn breathes, suddenly right beside him. He turns to her desperately.
“This is a prank, right? Something the jocks planned, to make fun of the queeny bitch? Right? It has to be.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not Prom Queen, Kurt. It’s King.” Suddenly, a huge smile breaks out on her face. “Kurt! You’re Prom King! You and Blaine!”
Then she does something completely unexpected, and swoops in to kiss him on the cheek. When she pulls away her face is lit up in pure joy, the likes of which he almost never sees on her composed, doll-like face. She’s clasping his hand and actually bouncing up and down, squealing in glee. It seems to break the shroud of silence which has settled over the crowd, and people are beginning to applaud; slowly, as if they’re really not sure what else to do.
Rachel’s face is still frozen in shock, but before he can say anything, Quinn and Lauren are pushing him away, telling him to go, go, get on stage, quick! and he has no choice but to go, stumbling through through the mass of faceless students in tuxes and brightly coloured ball gowns in a haze of disconnect. Puck’s hand thumps him on the back as he goes past, and he catches a glimpse of Mike and Tina grinning at him as they clap loudly, but for the most part people stand back as he cuts through the crowd.
He eventually reaches the stage, but suddenly falters. What if he gets up and Figgins says, “Oh thank the Lord, it was a mistake! Sorry boys, please return the crowns!” Or people will jeer and throw food from the snack table, or a bucket of pig’s blood will be dumped on their heads. Because this seriously can’t be happening.
Suddenly there is a hand on his back, and Coach Sylvester is propelling him roughly across the last few metres, snarling in his ear, “Go!” and he can’t help but obey that voice. He ascends the steps up to the stage, and tenses himself for the bloody shower.
But nothing happens, and there are no nasty surprises; just Blaine, standing there in the spotlight and smiling at him in incredulous happiness. For the first time since hearing his name called, Kurt feels his own lips twitch into a smile, albeit a nervous one, and he gravitates easily towards Blaine. Their fingers immediately wind themselves together, each of them seeking some solid ground in this whole situation. Miss Pillsbury-Howell places a crown on his head (stupid plastic crown, not worth it, right?) and a microphone in his hand, then beams at him encouragingly before stepping back.
“Oh God, do I have to?” he whispers to Blaine, holding the microphone away.
“Better you than me,” his boyfriend whispers back. “If I open my mouth too wide, I may throw up.”
“Yeah, right,” Kurt mutters to Mr Suave and Collected Under Pressure.
Blaine just winks at him and squeezes his free hand. The gesture sends a thrill of warmth through him, and manages to bolster his confidence a little. Kurt takes a deep breath and brings the microphone closer.
“I,” he squeaks. A few people giggle. He clears his throat and tries again. “I . . . genuinely have no idea what to say. Um, thank you, I suppose? At least, I believe that thanks is in order, so long as this isn’t a mistake, which I would completely understand, or a prank, which I would also understand but be a lot less forgiving about.” He glances up. “I’m not seeing any buckets of pig’s blood, so for the moment I remain optimistic.”
He gets a couple of laughs at that. He looks over and manages to spot some of the New Directions, all of whom are either still looking shocked, or grinning at him. Slightly more confident, he smiles and continues. “I know you and I have a rocky history, students of McKinley. Dumpster dives and slushy facials every day for the past four years – less so recently, I’ll admit – are a hard thing to let go of, but this, right here, probably goes a long way towards making all those things worth it. Yes, I’m shallow like that; give me something shiny and I am your new best friend.”
More laughter. Artie flashes him a thumbs-up, and Mercedes, sitting beside him, is laughing while wiping her eyes. Meeting her eyes, Kurt says, “But in all seriousness, being up here, with my boyfriend, and being crowned Prom King . . . it means more to me than I can possibly say. And even if it is a prank, and the pig’s blood is being saved for when I stop talking, it doesn’t change how I feel right now.” He looks down for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Being gay and being hated for what you are, by everyone around you – it’s hard. I don’t think most of you will ever comprehend just how hard. But it’s not just about being gay. It’s about being a loser, an underdog, an outcast, and I’m sure that quite a lot of you can relate to that in some way.” His eyes fall on the Glee club as he speaks. “But I’ve realized that no matter how much of a loser you are, you can still have amazing friends – even if those friends drive you up the wall most days – and you can still stand on stage at your senior prom with the person you love, and wear a crown. So thank you to my friends, who shared the dumpster dives and slushy facials, and who made high school a bearable experience, and thank you to . . . to you, Blaine,” here he turned to the boy beside him, whose eyes are big and dewy-looking. “You make everything worth it. And I love you for it.”
There may have been some snide comments or expressions of disgust following this declaration, but all Kurt hears is a deafening cheer and the thunder of applause. It may have only been the Glee Club – he is too busy looking at Blaine and can’t see for himself – but that’s all he needs.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he says. He looks directly at Quinn, who’s clasping her hands together and still smiling that beautiful, radiant smile; and then at Rachel, who has tears streaming down her face but whose eyes are filled with such pride that it surprises him, and almost makes him cry too. “All the girls here tonight who wanted to be Prom Queen, I’m sorry us guys were greedy and took the opportunity away. But at the risk of sounding like Lindsay Lohan on the brink of a career failure . . . you’re all beautiful and you all deserve this crown. Seriously.”
Rachel bursts into all-out sobs at this point, and Finn hugs her to his side, beaming up at Kurt. Everyone else has similar expressions of either happiness or teary happiness, and in Kurt’s peripheral, Mr Schuester is also discreetly wiping at his eyes while Coach Sylvester leans over to mutter something in his ear, no doubt mocking him for being a baby. There is more cheering and applause, and Kurt holds the microphone away to address Blaine. “I’m sorry, did you want to say something?”
Blaine laughs and takes the microphone. “Just one thing.” He lifts the it to his mouth and says, “I love you too, Kurt. And you look beautiful in that crown.” Without further ado, he tugs Kurt closer and kisses him firmly on the lips.
There are a few catcalls, and Santana’s voice yells, “Get it, Kurt!” before Figgins is suddenly there, nervously ushering them offstage. Kurt clings to Blaine’s hand, afraid that he might collapse without some kind of support.
“Did that really just happen?” he breathes once they are safely back on the floor.
“I dunno, maybe we stole these crowns from Sam and Quinn,” Blaine jokes, but he reaches up to touch the pointy top of Kurt’s crown curiously, as if making sure it’s really there.
“Kurt!” a familiar voice shrieks, and he turns in time to catch a flying Rachel Berry as she launches herself at his neck. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it! You’re Prom King!”
“And . . . you’re not mad?” he says, holding her at arm’s length.
“Mad?! I’m furious! I hate you! That was supposed to be my crown!” She flings her arms around him again. “But you deserve it so much more than me and I’m really, really proud of you!”
He huffs out an incredulous laugh and hugged her back, exchanging a ‘she is completely INSANE’ look with Blaine over her shoulder. Blaine shrugs helplessly and pats her back.
Suddenly Finn is there, wrapping his enormous arms around both Kurt and Rachel at once, and threatening to suffocate the both of them. “Dude, that was awesome,” he says, slightly slurred. Apparently Lauren wasn’t kidding about the punch. “Man, Burt is gonna be so proud of you.”
Kurt thinks of his dad, waiting for his boys to get back home, hopefully in one piece. He feels his eyes inexplicably well with tears and buries his face in Rachel’s shoulder to hide them. “He might be.”
Then the rest of the club accosts them, and he is pulled out of Finn and Rachel’s embrace straight into Quinn’s somewhat more delicate hug. He squeezes her back. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I know how much you wanted it.”
She shakes her head and kisses him on the cheek again. “I was delusional, and though I needed that stupid crown to be happy with my high school life. But I’ve matured somewhat in the last ten minutes. So thank you.” She smiles at him teasingly. “Besides, you look adorable in that crown.”
The rest of the club mobs him before he can from a retort to that, but he doesn’t mind. Somewhere in the midst of hugs and back-slaps and Brittany poking at his crown, Kurt entwines is fingers with Blaine once again like they belong that way, and presses their foreheads together. High school has been hell, but he meant what he said on stage; right now, with Blaine, surrounded by his friends and the ultimate dream come true perched on his head, he doesn’t regret a second of it.
Burt is proud of Kurt, in fact, so proud that he admits he kept that hope chest full of tiaras tucked away in a corner of the attic ever since they moved house. Kurt, who is high on happiness, enlists Finn’s help in fetching the box, and then proceeds to hand out his tiaras to the girls. (And Mike, who was looking left out, and Puck and Artie, who were both drunk and quoting Disney prince and princess lines at each other.) He’s almost jealous, because those tiaras are much more expensive than his plastic one, but then Blaine grins at him dopily with his crown tilted precariously to one side, and Kurt thinks that those stupid pieces of plastic are worth something after all.