The ride to regionals took nearly an hour in stop and go traffic, longer than expected, and Kurt groaned when the car stopped yet again. "We're going to be late," he whimpered, slamming his head back against the seat.
"Nothing we can do about it, bro," Finn said idly, looking out the window with a sigh. "At least the Warblers are the last ones on the program. And you have thirteen members so even if you don't make it, they can go on. New Directions'll have to forfeit if I don't get there in time."
"There's still time to get there before either of you has to go on," Burt cut in. The rain was pounding down in buckets, hitting the windshield and obscuring the road but for the reflections of the headlights off the asphalt. The windshield wipers slapped back and forth, and Kurt shut his eyes, listening to their quick beat, and mumbled over the words to the song he'd somehow convinced the Warblers to do for Regionals. After seeing New Directions they'd all had to admit maybe he knew a little something about what they were up against, and convinced them to take a little chance on a duet between two gay boys. The way Blaine sang the reworked "She's Got a Love Like Whoa" like he meant the words, the way he looked into his eyes in rehearsal, had made him weak in the knees; but then just as fast Blaine turned on the goofy charm and silly faces … and then he was high-fiving and hey-dude pointing with the other Warblers, and he knew that Blaine was just being Blaine.
Dramatic, charming, show-offy, adorable … and so damn friendly. In English class at Dalton, there was a poem that reminded him of Blaine. Browning's "My Last Duchess". She had a heart, how shall I say? too soon made glad, too easily impressed; she liked whate'er she looked on, and her looks went everywhere. That was Blaine, his little duchess. Those flirtatious, inviting looks, those friendly gestures, went everywhere and he had been a fool to imagine that Blaine had been instantly smitten, singing "Teenage Dream" directly to him. The only teenage dream around here was that Blaine would fall for him just because he happened to be gay and had followed Blaine to Dalton like a lovesick puppy, as much as to get away from Dave Karofsky.
Kurt trailed off on the line, "Cause we only have one life/ The timing and the moment/ All seem so right/ So would you say you're mine?" and looked out the window again.
"Dude," Finn said with a whistle. "That's gonna be tough to beat." He looked up at the ceiling of the car. "I'm singing with Rachel, and let's just say the chemistry's really off for us. Not like you and Blaine."
"You'll pull it off once the two of you are on stage, even if you're mad at her right now," Kurt muttered. "The great performers always can fake it if they have to. Just ask Blaine."
Burt cut in, "Looks like there was an accident. Bad one."
The line of cars snaked past the shattered wreckage, the drivers rubbernecking to catch a glimpse while some of the police officers waved them on impatiently. Others were standing around the car taking photographs.
"Looks like that Honda crossed over the line - - hit 'em head on," Finn said with a whistle. "Was a pretty sweet benzo, too."
"Hopefully no one was hurt too badly," Carole shivered, and as they passed the two smashed cars the traffic picked up and Burt hit the gas to hurry forward. "Shouldn't be any problem getting you two there in time," he said cheerfully. "So no reason to be nervous."
Easier said than done, Kurt thought, trying to shake the dark mood and get his glee face on.