"Hey, I'm Kurt Hummel," Kurt introduced himself, wanting to sound breezy and casual and about half a dozen more adjectives that any editor would tell him to cut out. Maybe that meant that he should tone it down. So he did, even taking a step back, letting the man walk into the place properly. "The others are through there."
He gestured at the door where others had started to gather. "I'm just here to man the door and offer refreshments. So, do you want some tea or coffee? The coffee is questionable, but that's not on me. Someone else made it, I just pour."
This was bullshit and he really wasn't in the mood to come here but Sam was threatening to withhold his all clear if he didn't try some form of therapy. Apparently talking to an AI egg wasn't 'socialising' and scream into his pillow wasn't anger management. Go figures Sam was pedantic.
When he walked in, it was kind of the energy he expected. Ah, he remembered drama kids, it took him back. He and Steve had often hung out with artists and musicians, they were always a lot of things but definitely bold.
Bucky took a peek into the room and looked at the stupid circle and all the people. Damn. Maybe if he had coffee, it would be an excuse not to talk and he could stall out here longer. "I'll have coffee. Thanks."
"Okay," Kurt said, turning to get the pot and start pouring. Not exactly the same as either at the diner, his internship or the Lima Bean, yet it still seemed as if he wouldn't escape every single one of his jobs having coffee pouring as a central element. "Do you want milk? Sugar? We have several plant-based milks and also creamer. Oh, and sweetener, in case you are diabetic."
Kurt looked at the man in front of him and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I talk too much."
Something about the tall, dark and handsome type made him feel bashful here. "I promise, I'm not always annoying."
Well, this was a lot but it still beat 'feel your emotions through movement'. He didn't want to know what was that but he felt he made a wise choice being in music therapy, talking to some excitable theatre kid that was probably going to try and get everyone to sing showtunes.
"I'll have it black." He hadn't gotten used to milks yet, he hadn't had them in so long and he wasn't quite sure what plant milks were still. Maybe he would try soon. He just couldn't imagine oats as milk.
He took the cup from Kurt and tried to smile but it came out weird and perhaps more unsettling. "You're not." There, he could reassure him. He eyed up the room again and then sipped his coffee. Woah. "That is questionable..."
"Yes. That's why I made myself some herbal tea." Kurt indicated his own cup, shrugging his shoulders. "My friend always slips some teabags into my bag, for my voice."
Rachel's way of caring about her loved ones was sweet, overbearing and often misguided, but in this case Kurt was not complaining. "She doesn't even talk for a couple hours before a performance. She is unhinged. She is also on Broadway, so."
Clearly it paid off. As ever, it was hard to argue with Rachel's talent. "Are you ready to join the others? That should be everyone now."
Kurt glanced toward the door, taking a deep breath. "I hope I won't mess it up..."
"Ready as I'll ever be." He gave Kurt a nod and would have reassured the kid but he was bad at talking to people these days and he didn't really have the effort to do it either. He wasn't overly used to talking to people. He knew he had to work on that but it seemed so difficult.
Heading inside, Bucky got a seat out and sat on the side, hoping he wouldn't have to do anything much. He looked around, saw the piano and guitar, saw the little stage. God, he hoped no one wanted him to play an instrument.
"Hello again, everyone," Kurt stood up in front of people, relaxing a little bit when the band sat down by their instruments. He had no idea what he'd do if he didn't know so many band people that were always willing to find time. "So, this is supposed to be fun. I bet that a lot of you are sceptical about that, but let's give it a shot! When I was in high school, I went through a phase of being quite depressed. My dad was worried and he wanted me to join a club. He suggested a sports club."
There was some smirking and, yes, a few guys sniggering at Kurt saying that. He had expected it, so he shrugged and owned it, was himself. "Obviously, I didn't do sports. Well, look at me. I'm too fabulous."
They couldn't make fun of him when he was proud. Courage, as always. "Instead I joined the Glee club. And that had a lot of lows and highs but ultimately it was the best decision I could have made. If you don't want to sing along, you can just watch. If you have a song you want to share with the group, you can take a turn. For now, let's start with a classic."
And then, with his mind on Will Schuester, he handed out the sheets and got them started on a Journey medley.
What the fuck were these jackasses even laughing at? Not everyone played sports. If a single one of them said something dumb, he was going to kill them. Well, no, maybe that was too far. Sam always told him he went to extremes so he knew he had to moderate - he'd just severely injure them.
He took the sheet music and looked at it, not really planning on taking part but he was curious to see what it was about. A lot of the guys looked unsure but a few seemed eager to try. He liked that.
The kid didn't deserve to struggle because they were all damaged assholes.
"That went better than I'd have thought!" Was that a compliment? Kind of. Maybe not one that showed a lot of confidence in himself or in what he was doing though. "I brought a lot of sheet music along and the band can pretty much play anything, they are amazing that way. So you can peruse, if you so wish."
He gestured to where he'd piled the sheet music, ignoring anyone who was amused by his use of 'perused' or how he moved when he gestured. Kurt might live in a queer bubble these days, between Vogue and Broadway, but that didn't mean he ever forgot about homophobia. The world wouldn't allow for that. "I mostly picked rock music for you guys, but maybe that's me boxing you in. I can always break out my Madonna covers."
Shrugging, he looked around, settling randomly on Bucky. "What music do you like?"
Fucking assholes. Why were they laughing and smirking? What year was this? They went out into the world to fucking fight to make it a better place and then what? Come back and embrace their inner fascist. They were clearly amused by the Madonna thing so Bucky shrugged at Kurt and half smiled. "Madonna."
No one was laughing at him. He looked at the guys with a level of intensity that he knew put people off. They better start shutting the fuck up.
"Material girl. Classic." It was the only Madonna song he knew.
"A gentleman of discerning taste." Kurt noticed that open defiance and it made him feel a little less intimidated. Also a lot like swooning over the handsome hunk that was clearly at the very least an ally. Obviously not in any kind of serious way, but that was definitely worth a sigh or two. "My boyfriend does a great cover of that song."
Yes, boyfriend. He was just going to put it out there, maybe then they could get over how gay he was. "Personally, I'm more of a Vogue fan."
"Huh. Never heard that one. You guys want to sing it for me?" Bucky looked over at the idiots who had been smirking and laughing, raising an eyebrow at them. No takers. Shame. "No? Alright then, what do you wanna sing? Cause it's Vogue or nothing." And then, suddenly, there were ideas. Songs. People were raising their hand to talk about their manly music tastes and some classic rock was thrown around.
Bucky watched them talking, always fascinated by how quickly people stop being jerks when someone stronger is around. Pathetic, honestly. The sheet music was browsed and one of the guys happily held up a dad rock song he hadn't heard in ages. Finally.
Kurt made it through the hour of mostly dad rock - not that he wasn't used to it or hadn't expected it. He wasn't sure what it was with guys filled with toxic masculinity and their fathers. He assumed daddy issues that had never been resolved. Something Kurt could not relate to, on behalf of having a great relationship with his own father. Which was why he didn't hesitate to actually show off some high notes when he could, no matter what reaction he might get. He was secure in his masculinity. And also in knowing that Bucky was there, who clearly wasn't going to allow for any bullying.
It didn't surprise him that, when everyone filtered out and he started doing the clean-up, Bucky lingered behind, trying to be helpful. "You can go, you know? I can handle it."
He turned to him with a smile, deciding to simply say it. "Thank you, by the way. You know for what. I'd have been fine, I can handle that stuff too. I've got practise. But still, thank you."
Well, these idiots left their shit everywhere, of course he was going to collect it. Even with one hand, he was more capable than those jackasses. He held the wad of papers out to Kurt and then considered his thanks. "I'm sure you would be fine. I just don't like it. I'm not going to tolerate it." He was angry so he may as well challenge that anger into shaming dickheads than becoming a dickhead.
"If you let jokes slide by, people think it's okay. Then they do it more. You shut 'em down, they shut up." He knew from experience. And besides, it's what Steve would have done. Fight the bullies.
"You are right. I just need to use different methods than you to shut them up. When I try talking in a gruff voice, I just sound like a cartoon." He wasn't about to ever be able to pull off what Bucky had just pulled off - never mind how muscular he might get. Still, he didn't want him to think he was some wilting flower. "I appreciate the help."
Both for gathering the sheet music and the interference before. Kurt saw his phone light up and he reached for it, picking up. "Yes, I've just finished up. No, baby, don't worry. Finn is picking me up."
That was a lie but it was a white one, Kurt thought. Finn had wanted to pick him up, after all. "I'll see you there. Make sure they have enough ice this time or we're going elsewhere."
With that he hung up, only to then check his phone and see that he'd gotten a message from Finn. So, with a roll of his eyes, he started recording a message, knowing that Finn often preferred listening to voice messages anyway. "It's all good, Finn. I've got Blaine and Sam picking me up. I'll be fine. Just relax. Greetings to Valerie!"
He sent the message off and then looked at Bucky, going over what had just happened in the span of ten seconds. Damn. He had to look like a liar there. "My friends worry too much."
Kurt was a good liar, he didn't struggle to mask whatever was happening and he was very good at sounding okay. It just seemed weird that someone would lie this much. Were they overbearing or was there a reason they was overbearing? "Hm."
Bucky pulled his phone out and checked the time. It was a bit late and with the season, he guessed it was darker earlier. New York wasn't exactly a safe place half the time. Even so, that was a lot of people worrying for nothing.
"Do they worry for a reason?" Bucky asked finally, looking at Kurt curiously.
"No. Not really." Kurt frowned, trying to find some ground between the truth and still making sure he made it clear that the others were overreacting. "I got-- I was involved in a bashing a while back."
He gestured to his face without really thinking about it, even though the bruises had faded and the scars were covered up by his hair. "I saw someone getting bashed and I interfered."
With a small smile, he looked at Bucky. "As you said. You can't just ignore it. Anyway, it was three of them and they used a brick from behind so I did end up in the hospital for a bit. But I'm not scared."
He refused to be scared. "They just think I can't walk by myself."
It made him furious, a good kid like this getting bashed by three guys? What losers. Three against one. "Very heroic. No good deed goes unpunished." He knew that for a fact. He frowned and then looked at his arm, pondering for a moment. Why not? He hardly had plans, did he?
"Where do you live?" Bucky asked him without hesitation. "The area, not the address. What borough? Just wondering."
He didn't want to scare the kid but he was bad at not getting to the point these days. Small talk was hard.
Yes, he was definitely yammering on now. "You don't have to walk me. I promise, I can handle myself. I have pepper spray and a whistle. And a decent right hook, apparently."
"I'm a vet with PTSD, walk me home? I'm in Manhattan." He was not, he was in Brooklyn but he was walking this fucking kid to Broadway, even if he had to pretend to be a fucking pathetic loser. "We'll go together. I gotta get through Broadway anyway."
Urgh, such an annoying detour but whatever, his pride was gone and he was helping this kid get where he needed to go. He seemed confident but Bucky knew it was a mask. People were good at masking, he saw that all the time now. He knew because he sucked at it but he tried sometimes. It always looked the same. "You can help me scan the ticket at the subway, it's a bitch with one arm."
"I can imagine... My friend Artie is in a wheelchair and he never stops complaining about the subway." Rightfully so, obviously. Kurt knew he was blushing by now, but he finished packing his bag and then put it over his shoulder, so they could head for the door.
He wondered what the odds were that this guy actually lived in Manhattan. Pretty damn low, he imagined. He was the hero type, Kurt could recognise that. Just like Finn. "Did you have an okay time? I noticed you didn't really sing, so I hope it wasn't too boring for you."
"I'm just more of a watcher these days. It was interesting though." He didn't know if the therapy would help him but it was good, he supposed, to be in a room with people and engage with them. Good or bad, at least he was socialising. "I only see my counsellor so I think it's good. For me. To go and -- watch."
He wasn't sure if he still had any creativity left in him. He mostly just stared at the wall or ran over all the terrible things he'd done. Had done to him. That took up most of his day. Sometimes he watched football. That was about it. "You sing good."
"Thanks. I always thought so." Kurt smiled, deciding to simply take the compliment. Also deciding then, concluding, really, that around Bucky, a bit of rambling might not go amiss. He clearly found it difficult to converse, so Kurt didn't mind doing the lion's share of it.
So, once they were walking outside, he chattered away. "My voice is too high for a lot of roles. Not a lot of leading roles for my vocal tone. My boyfriend, he's the ideal leading man. Usually I'm almost not jealous and simply proud."
Some days it was more fifty-fifty. "My dad told me that because I'm not the Rock Hudson kind of gay, I need to write my own musicals if I want to star. So I'm trying that."
"My mom loved Rock Hudson." He never had the heart to tell her. Not that she would have been hurt by it but he knew she had so many garbage men around her, why not let her believe in some Hollywood romance fantasy? "She also liked Tab Hunter." She seemed to have a very specific type.
Bucky walked along by Kurt, scanning the area out of a force of habit. It was hard not to look for and suspect danger to be coming.
"Writing isn't easy, takes focus and motivation." Not that he was saying Kurt couldn't do it, he was just appreciating the work ahead of the kid. Maybe he should have clarified.
"Your mom and I would have aligned in movie star tastes." Wasn't that good to know? Not surprising either, often happened with straight women around that age. Luckily, he actually had found himself a boy with those leading man looks already, so he was all set. Not that he couldn't still appreciate the rugged handsomeness of Bucky, walking next to him so protectively.
"I did an internship at vogue.com when I was eighteen and I still work there now. Some of my articles have gone into print. But writing about fashion is very different from writing a musical." Not that he was giving up. "I mean, I know someone who is composing music and he is deaf. Knowing that, I feel like a slacker whenever I stop trying, you know?"
"My counsellor told me to write about my experience in the war. I used to write a fair bit. I think fiction is easier." Bucky admitted, he hadn't written anything since two years into the army, and that was an angry letter he wrote to the tribune. They published it. In the opinions section. Dumb fucks.
"In high school, I wrote a musical about my best friend. I called it 'Captain Rogers'. There was a lot of star-spangled guys tap dancing. In my head." There. He was sharing. He wasn't unable to socialise with anyone but an egg. Take that Sam. "It was long. I even had an intermission."
"Well, that sounds like the best thing I've ever heard. Also eerily like a dream I had once after a 4th of July party had gotten out of hand..." Kurt laughed, looking at Bucky from the side. "You have a lot of aspects to you, don't you? Material Girl and musical writing. All that and a great head of hair. You better don't come to the gay club with me, those queens will eat you alive."
Well, he was a great catch. "You should show me that musical. I'm intrigued."
"I don't have it anymore. When I was in the army, my family got evicted and they couldn't take the stuff... it was just stuff." Whatever. At least his mom lived a happy life and never had to see what her son became. He just wished his sisters never had to deal with him and his life. "I don't really have things. Seems pointless."
He could have to leave or engage with something for too long. He didn't think it was a good idea. "My friend, Steve, he probably has a copy but he's on tour right now." Steve had a copy, he probably kept it. He was a good guy like that. "He kept my scripts and my poems, my diary too." When he had been missing in action, anyway.
"Sounds like a good friend," Kurt said gently, aware that he had hit on something that was painful. Which was to be expected, given he was talking to a PTSD-ridden veteran. Still, his heart was beating fast and he wished he had a script for this moment, so he could handle it better.
"I did a lot of scrapbooking. I guess I still do that. Mostly they are back in Ohio though." He had had more time for scrapbooking when he had been desperate and lonely. Now he just took the time occasionally. As they boarded the subway, he stuck close to Bucky, wishing he could help against the underlying sadness that was always there. "So, how scared do I have to act to convince you to tag along inside? I promise, some of my friends are not insufferable."
"You probably can't. It's not for me. Meeting people. Socialising. It's not good for... for everyone." He had a tendency to stare, he was blunt and sometimes he had panic attacks. Sometimes he had anger attacks. He wasn't overly proud of how he was these days and he didn't like the idea of going in and spooking a bunch of kids with his horrible PTSD riddled existence.
"Beside, a gay club is probably not my scene." If it was anything like the ones he'd been in before, it was a big party and he was not in the mood to party. And then he realised what he said and how it might come across, pausing with a frown. "Uh... not in a bad way. I'm bi, I'm just..." Awkward. Weird. Sad? He wasn't sure.
"I figured you were. Bi, I mean. Queer, anyway. Between the Madonna and the dress sense, I assumed there had to be more than just allyship." Not that he wouldn't have appreciated that as well. "But I didn't mean that you come to the club. You probably shouldn't. Look at you, you're catnip. I couldn't keep you safe."
He was only one man. "I meant before. To the-- I guess it's kind of karaoke. It's fun to watch. You know, apart from that time when my boyfriend sang a song to let me know he'd cheated on me, that was awful. And he didn't even really cheat, as it turned out, so. Overall, it's a great time."
"My dress sense?" Was his dress sense gay? Was it the leather jacket? He didn't know much about fashion but he assumed the vogue guy knew something he didn't. He looked down at himself, frowned and then looked back up at Kurt. "It's a bit weird for me to hang out with you guys. I'm almost thirty." He was just dancing on the edge of it, almost free of his twenties. He was hoping the thirties would be miles better.
"If you're scared, I can wait for you and make sure your friends get to the club safe. Bashings are too common right now, you wanna be careful." He could sit outside of a karaoke bar. On Broadway. Seemed great.
"...you'd just, what, stand there until I'm done singing and then walk us all?" The mental image was, admittedly, kind of amusing. It distracted him from giving Bucky a detailed review on what queer elements there were to his wardrobe choices. Maybe he could do that another time. "Don't worry on that account. I have some friends that are, you know. Not just twinks like me."
Also a few that were, admittedly. "But don't worry about the age thing. Hartley and Axel would be about your age, and if Jesse St James is here today, frankly nobody knows his actual age."
Including Jesse, he assumed. "You won't exactly seem like the crypt master. I promise."
"I don't mind waiting outside. I like alone time. I like being outside." He was used to New York city, sometimes it was just nice to open the window and hear the familiar sound of honking, yelling and constant traffic. "I'm really not good at this, kid. Meeting people. I don't do it."
He sometimes went to bars, he spent some time drinking with one of his victim's dads but that wasn't really intense. "I'm more the sort that sits alone in a bar."
"Fair enough. If you don't want to come in, wait outside." Kurt shrugged. Well, why not? Not as if Hartley didn't do that sometimes. Or go off to do whatever else, he honestly wasn't sure. Hard to blame the deaf guy for that, just as he was not about to blame the PTSD patient. Still. "Hang around a bit though. I want my boyfriend to see you, he loves superheroes."
And what was Bucky other than that? "You were my hero today."
"I'm not a hero." Bucky said immediately, shaking his head. He was a monster, a loser and he hadn't done a single fucking heroic thing. He wasn't Steve. Now he was a hero, he was out there fight for the greater good. Bucky was mostly rotting in his apartment and occasionally going to get drunk. "I just don't want to let hate win. I'm petty if nothing else."
He didn't want anyone to be scared, he wanted to make sure bigotry didn't win. It was the least he could do. He failed abroad, why not try at home?
"Wow. You really should talk to Hartley." It was quite the similarity he was hitting on there. Such anger, such a confidence in hating himself. Kurt felt bad for him, yet he knew that it couldn't easily be helped. "If you come in for a moment, I promise I'll make sure someone sings Material Girl."
He was teasing mostly, but still trying to entice him. Especially given they had reached their station and were exiting the subway.
"If I hear my song, maybe I'll look in. Now get the door, I hate those things." It was hard to open the subway doors and brace himself on the pole so he was pretty happy he had a kid to command. Otherwise, he had to wait for someone else to do it or fumble around.
As they left the subway, Bucky patted himself down for his pass and then scanned it as he walked through the barrier. Not so difficult but he had to play it up so Kurt could be walked safely. "Last time I went to Broadway, I was 17 and we sat outside of a Les Mis showing, I think. You could kinda hear it. A bit."
"If you ever want cheap tickets, I do actually have connections. That Jesse St James I've mentioned, he's directing and acting in a musical that is getting Tony buzz." It was exciting and annoying, as always when the worst person one knew also happened to be talented. Awful how often that happened to him.
He waited for Bucky to catch up to him and then started heading upstairs. "Do you like musicals? If you don't, you have probably just not seen the right one yet."
"I like 'em fine. I know I wrote one about my friend but I've just never really seen any but the ones on TV. Singing in the Rain, Gentleman Prefer Blondes and I watched almost all of Grease before my friend had an asthma attack and we had to go to the hospital." He loved to always tell people that Steve got so excited by those young hoodlums that he stopped breathing. "Back then, if you missed it, you missed it. None of this on-demand stuff."
He didn't want to engage too much with streaming services and all that shit. He was fine with normal TV that didn't come with emails and payments.
"I had so many on VHS tapes. My mom recorded a lot of them, some before I was even born." And he had watched those versions so often, even though he had access to better recordings. "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes has a special place in my heart. My mom loved Marilyn Monroe."
And, of course, so did Kurt. They were walking down the road and Kurt pointed the place out to Bucky. "Almost there. Are you going to come in for a moment or not?"
"I'll drop you off and then I can wait. Unless it creeps you out then I'll just head home. As long as you're with people." Bucky informed him as they got closer and closer to the karaoke bar. It wasn't that he was scared of people or anxious about interacting, he just didn't feel right doing it. He was a bad person and he didn't want to bring that into anyone's life.
"I keep to myself, kid." Bucky paused outside of the place and then gestured for Kurt to go ahead. "I'll walk you in, if you want?"
"Come in," Kurt ordered, grabbing Bucky by his arm and pulling him along and inside. It was fairly busy, although not crowded. Someone was singing an A Chorus Line song, which inevitably happened any time more than three theatre kids were in a room together, and Kurt saw his group of friends sitting at their usual table.
He smiled at Blaine when he spotted him - seated next to Sam, naturally - and then waved to Artie and Tina, who were also at their table. When he reached them, he let go of Bucky. "That's Bucky. He walked me here, to protect me."
It was heroic, no matter what Bucky thought of himself. "This is Blaine. You know, my boyfriend," he introduced, to make sure Blaine wouldn't feel threatened at all, no reason for jealousy. Kurt bent down to kiss Blaine's cheek. "See? I'm safe."
"Woah. That's... woah." Where the hell did his giant tank come from and why was he with Kurt? Blaine was a bit in shock as he looked at Bucky and then Kurt. Well. That was bad for his ego. He did not have muscles like that. He also wasn't missing an arm but that didn't seem like a pro or a con. He just noticed. "I thought... I thought Finn was bring you?"
"He didn't need to, I did it. I was there." Bucky dismissed to help Kurt cover for his lies. He looked at Kurt and then nodded a little at him. Time to head out.
"Thank you." Blaine sounded unsure as he looked at Kurt. What on Earth.
"Thanks again!" Kurt called out after Bucky, wondering whether he was actually going to hang around outside or not. Either way, he felt it was a partial success, at least. He pulled a chair up so he could sit down next to Blaine, realising then that everyone was focusing on him. He supposed his handsome but slightly grim looking companion had drawn a lot of curiosity.
Kurt leaned against Blaine, wrapping an arm around him, then he explained. "He's one of the veterans I'm working with. So, you know. PTSD and all that. But he is really nice and he is queer, so I thought he could at least stop by."
"You walked here with a PTSD vet that you barely know?" Woah. That was concerning. Was he supposed to be cool with it or panic? He felt like panicking but he also didn't want Kurt to think he was being weird or jealous so he was just trying to work it out in his head and not freak out. "I guess, if you trust him, that's smart. To be with someone. Just maybe next time, let me know. I could come get you."
Maybe that was a better compromise. Wait, no, he was making Kurt feel weak again or whatever. "I mean, if you want. You don't have to." God, this was hard.
Kurt frowned, realising belatedly that, yes. He supposed it seemed a little reckless from an outsider's standpoint. He lifted one hand to cup the side of Blaine's face, looking into his eyes. "I trust him. Anyway, I took the subway and walked a few blocks. I wasn't in any danger anyway."
He shrugged his shoulders, trying to change the topic to get Blaine away from all those doubts and insecurities. "Now, how about you take the mic and serenade me? Come on, Blaine, you are so handsome and good."
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choirroom2025-09-24 06:15 pm
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He gestured at the door where others had started to gather. "I'm just here to man the door and offer refreshments. So, do you want some tea or coffee? The coffee is questionable, but that's not on me. Someone else made it, I just pour."
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When he walked in, it was kind of the energy he expected. Ah, he remembered drama kids, it took him back. He and Steve had often hung out with artists and musicians, they were always a lot of things but definitely bold.
Bucky took a peek into the room and looked at the stupid circle and all the people. Damn. Maybe if he had coffee, it would be an excuse not to talk and he could stall out here longer. "I'll have coffee. Thanks."
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Kurt looked at the man in front of him and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I talk too much."
Something about the tall, dark and handsome type made him feel bashful here. "I promise, I'm not always annoying."
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"I'll have it black." He hadn't gotten used to milks yet, he hadn't had them in so long and he wasn't quite sure what plant milks were still. Maybe he would try soon. He just couldn't imagine oats as milk.
He took the cup from Kurt and tried to smile but it came out weird and perhaps more unsettling. "You're not." There, he could reassure him. He eyed up the room again and then sipped his coffee. Woah. "That is questionable..."
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Rachel's way of caring about her loved ones was sweet, overbearing and often misguided, but in this case Kurt was not complaining. "She doesn't even talk for a couple hours before a performance. She is unhinged. She is also on Broadway, so."
Clearly it paid off. As ever, it was hard to argue with Rachel's talent. "Are you ready to join the others? That should be everyone now."
Kurt glanced toward the door, taking a deep breath. "I hope I won't mess it up..."
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Heading inside, Bucky got a seat out and sat on the side, hoping he wouldn't have to do anything much. He looked around, saw the piano and guitar, saw the little stage. God, he hoped no one wanted him to play an instrument.
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There was some smirking and, yes, a few guys sniggering at Kurt saying that. He had expected it, so he shrugged and owned it, was himself. "Obviously, I didn't do sports. Well, look at me. I'm too fabulous."
They couldn't make fun of him when he was proud. Courage, as always. "Instead I joined the Glee club. And that had a lot of lows and highs but ultimately it was the best decision I could have made. If you don't want to sing along, you can just watch. If you have a song you want to share with the group, you can take a turn. For now, let's start with a classic."
And then, with his mind on Will Schuester, he handed out the sheets and got them started on a Journey medley.
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He took the sheet music and looked at it, not really planning on taking part but he was curious to see what it was about. A lot of the guys looked unsure but a few seemed eager to try. He liked that.
The kid didn't deserve to struggle because they were all damaged assholes.
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He gestured to where he'd piled the sheet music, ignoring anyone who was amused by his use of 'perused' or how he moved when he gestured. Kurt might live in a queer bubble these days, between Vogue and Broadway, but that didn't mean he ever forgot about homophobia. The world wouldn't allow for that. "I mostly picked rock music for you guys, but maybe that's me boxing you in. I can always break out my Madonna covers."
Shrugging, he looked around, settling randomly on Bucky. "What music do you like?"
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No one was laughing at him. He looked at the guys with a level of intensity that he knew put people off. They better start shutting the fuck up.
"Material girl. Classic." It was the only Madonna song he knew.
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Yes, boyfriend. He was just going to put it out there, maybe then they could get over how gay he was. "Personally, I'm more of a Vogue fan."
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Bucky watched them talking, always fascinated by how quickly people stop being jerks when someone stronger is around. Pathetic, honestly. The sheet music was browsed and one of the guys happily held up a dad rock song he hadn't heard in ages. Finally.
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It didn't surprise him that, when everyone filtered out and he started doing the clean-up, Bucky lingered behind, trying to be helpful. "You can go, you know? I can handle it."
He turned to him with a smile, deciding to simply say it. "Thank you, by the way. You know for what. I'd have been fine, I can handle that stuff too. I've got practise. But still, thank you."
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Well, these idiots left their shit everywhere, of course he was going to collect it. Even with one hand, he was more capable than those jackasses. He held the wad of papers out to Kurt and then considered his thanks. "I'm sure you would be fine. I just don't like it. I'm not going to tolerate it." He was angry so he may as well challenge that anger into shaming dickheads than becoming a dickhead.
"If you let jokes slide by, people think it's okay. Then they do it more. You shut 'em down, they shut up." He knew from experience. And besides, it's what Steve would have done. Fight the bullies.
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Both for gathering the sheet music and the interference before. Kurt saw his phone light up and he reached for it, picking up. "Yes, I've just finished up. No, baby, don't worry. Finn is picking me up."
That was a lie but it was a white one, Kurt thought. Finn had wanted to pick him up, after all. "I'll see you there. Make sure they have enough ice this time or we're going elsewhere."
With that he hung up, only to then check his phone and see that he'd gotten a message from Finn. So, with a roll of his eyes, he started recording a message, knowing that Finn often preferred listening to voice messages anyway. "It's all good, Finn. I've got Blaine and Sam picking me up. I'll be fine. Just relax. Greetings to Valerie!"
He sent the message off and then looked at Bucky, going over what had just happened in the span of ten seconds. Damn. He had to look like a liar there. "My friends worry too much."
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Bucky pulled his phone out and checked the time. It was a bit late and with the season, he guessed it was darker earlier. New York wasn't exactly a safe place half the time. Even so, that was a lot of people worrying for nothing.
"Do they worry for a reason?" Bucky asked finally, looking at Kurt curiously.
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He gestured to his face without really thinking about it, even though the bruises had faded and the scars were covered up by his hair. "I saw someone getting bashed and I interfered."
With a small smile, he looked at Bucky. "As you said. You can't just ignore it. Anyway, it was three of them and they used a brick from behind so I did end up in the hospital for a bit. But I'm not scared."
He refused to be scared. "They just think I can't walk by myself."
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"Where do you live?" Bucky asked him without hesitation. "The area, not the address. What borough? Just wondering."
He didn't want to scare the kid but he was bad at not getting to the point these days. Small talk was hard.
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Yes, he was definitely yammering on now. "You don't have to walk me. I promise, I can handle myself. I have pepper spray and a whistle. And a decent right hook, apparently."
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Urgh, such an annoying detour but whatever, his pride was gone and he was helping this kid get where he needed to go. He seemed confident but Bucky knew it was a mask. People were good at masking, he saw that all the time now. He knew because he sucked at it but he tried sometimes. It always looked the same. "You can help me scan the ticket at the subway, it's a bitch with one arm."
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He wondered what the odds were that this guy actually lived in Manhattan. Pretty damn low, he imagined. He was the hero type, Kurt could recognise that. Just like Finn. "Did you have an okay time? I noticed you didn't really sing, so I hope it wasn't too boring for you."
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He wasn't sure if he still had any creativity left in him. He mostly just stared at the wall or ran over all the terrible things he'd done. Had done to him. That took up most of his day. Sometimes he watched football. That was about it. "You sing good."
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So, once they were walking outside, he chattered away. "My voice is too high for a lot of roles. Not a lot of leading roles for my vocal tone. My boyfriend, he's the ideal leading man. Usually I'm almost not jealous and simply proud."
Some days it was more fifty-fifty. "My dad told me that because I'm not the Rock Hudson kind of gay, I need to write my own musicals if I want to star. So I'm trying that."
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Bucky walked along by Kurt, scanning the area out of a force of habit. It was hard not to look for and suspect danger to be coming.
"Writing isn't easy, takes focus and motivation." Not that he was saying Kurt couldn't do it, he was just appreciating the work ahead of the kid. Maybe he should have clarified.
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"I did an internship at vogue.com when I was eighteen and I still work there now. Some of my articles have gone into print. But writing about fashion is very different from writing a musical." Not that he was giving up. "I mean, I know someone who is composing music and he is deaf. Knowing that, I feel like a slacker whenever I stop trying, you know?"
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"In high school, I wrote a musical about my best friend. I called it 'Captain Rogers'. There was a lot of star-spangled guys tap dancing. In my head." There. He was sharing. He wasn't unable to socialise with anyone but an egg. Take that Sam. "It was long. I even had an intermission."
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Well, he was a great catch. "You should show me that musical. I'm intrigued."
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He could have to leave or engage with something for too long. He didn't think it was a good idea. "My friend, Steve, he probably has a copy but he's on tour right now." Steve had a copy, he probably kept it. He was a good guy like that. "He kept my scripts and my poems, my diary too." When he had been missing in action, anyway.
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"I did a lot of scrapbooking. I guess I still do that. Mostly they are back in Ohio though." He had had more time for scrapbooking when he had been desperate and lonely. Now he just took the time occasionally. As they boarded the subway, he stuck close to Bucky, wishing he could help against the underlying sadness that was always there. "So, how scared do I have to act to convince you to tag along inside? I promise, some of my friends are not insufferable."
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"Beside, a gay club is probably not my scene." If it was anything like the ones he'd been in before, it was a big party and he was not in the mood to party. And then he realised what he said and how it might come across, pausing with a frown. "Uh... not in a bad way. I'm bi, I'm just..." Awkward. Weird. Sad? He wasn't sure.
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He was only one man. "I meant before. To the-- I guess it's kind of karaoke. It's fun to watch. You know, apart from that time when my boyfriend sang a song to let me know he'd cheated on me, that was awful. And he didn't even really cheat, as it turned out, so. Overall, it's a great time."
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"If you're scared, I can wait for you and make sure your friends get to the club safe. Bashings are too common right now, you wanna be careful." He could sit outside of a karaoke bar. On Broadway. Seemed great.
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Also a few that were, admittedly. "But don't worry about the age thing. Hartley and Axel would be about your age, and if Jesse St James is here today, frankly nobody knows his actual age."
Including Jesse, he assumed. "You won't exactly seem like the crypt master. I promise."
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He sometimes went to bars, he spent some time drinking with one of his victim's dads but that wasn't really intense. "I'm more the sort that sits alone in a bar."
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And what was Bucky other than that? "You were my hero today."
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He didn't want anyone to be scared, he wanted to make sure bigotry didn't win. It was the least he could do. He failed abroad, why not try at home?
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He was teasing mostly, but still trying to entice him. Especially given they had reached their station and were exiting the subway.
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As they left the subway, Bucky patted himself down for his pass and then scanned it as he walked through the barrier. Not so difficult but he had to play it up so Kurt could be walked safely. "Last time I went to Broadway, I was 17 and we sat outside of a Les Mis showing, I think. You could kinda hear it. A bit."
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He waited for Bucky to catch up to him and then started heading upstairs. "Do you like musicals? If you don't, you have probably just not seen the right one yet."
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He didn't want to engage too much with streaming services and all that shit. He was fine with normal TV that didn't come with emails and payments.
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And, of course, so did Kurt. They were walking down the road and Kurt pointed the place out to Bucky. "Almost there. Are you going to come in for a moment or not?"
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"I keep to myself, kid." Bucky paused outside of the place and then gestured for Kurt to go ahead. "I'll walk you in, if you want?"
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He smiled at Blaine when he spotted him - seated next to Sam, naturally - and then waved to Artie and Tina, who were also at their table. When he reached them, he let go of Bucky. "That's Bucky. He walked me here, to protect me."
It was heroic, no matter what Bucky thought of himself. "This is Blaine. You know, my boyfriend," he introduced, to make sure Blaine wouldn't feel threatened at all, no reason for jealousy. Kurt bent down to kiss Blaine's cheek. "See? I'm safe."
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"He didn't need to, I did it. I was there." Bucky dismissed to help Kurt cover for his lies. He looked at Kurt and then nodded a little at him. Time to head out.
"Thank you." Blaine sounded unsure as he looked at Kurt. What on Earth.
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Kurt leaned against Blaine, wrapping an arm around him, then he explained. "He's one of the veterans I'm working with. So, you know. PTSD and all that. But he is really nice and he is queer, so I thought he could at least stop by."
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Maybe that was a better compromise. Wait, no, he was making Kurt feel weak again or whatever. "I mean, if you want. You don't have to." God, this was hard.
Why was that dude so scary and hot?
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He shrugged his shoulders, trying to change the topic to get Blaine away from all those doubts and insecurities. "Now, how about you take the mic and serenade me? Come on, Blaine, you are so handsome and good."