twentysomething

Title: Like A Girl Changes Clothes

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (Liesl/Blair)

Summary: "Of course, when they get to Glee, Mr. Schue is talking crazy talk about something and the girls and guys are split up again. Liesl thinks half the reason they're always scrambling for a set list is because Mr. Schue is incapable of making good decisions, as evidenced by his marriage. Rachel is blathering something about their Sectionals competition and Liesl isn't paying any attention until she hears the words "spies" and oh my god, they'll be laughed out of the state if they let Rachel get within 10 miles of Dalton Academy for Girls."

Length: 2800 wordsish.

Warnings: GENDERSWAP THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW I'M SERIOUS ABOUT A PAIRING YEAH DOG

Notes: I CAN'T BE STOPPED I'M SORRY. I actually wrote this ages ago, and I was sort of meh about it, but eh, to life. merelyn was totally at fault for this one, and if you were wondering about our lady versions of Kurt and Blaine, well- Liesl and Blair. (And yes, that was totally on purpose. And yes, I renamed Kurt "Liesl". Once more, blame Mer.)



Liesl Hummel likes to think of herself as peerless. Most other contraltos have neither the depth and warmth of her low range or the clarity of her high range, and her fashion sense makes her strongly consider the idea that she's the reincarnation of Carmel Snow.

That being said, her solos go to Rachel and she throws out more slushie-stained cashmere sweaters than can be borne by any mortal woman.

The whole situation is pretty much intolerable.

This would be bad enough, but she's also going to die alone, probably with cats, because there are no lesbians in Lima, Ohio.

She's sure that in some alternate porn universe, all lesbian women are secretly just interested in having a naughty threesome with their best friend and any guy that asks, but this is not that universe and she wishes McKinley High would stop asking.

Especially since Brittany and Santana would.

Liesl rips down another DVD cover taped to her locker- Lesbian Nymphos Get Banged 4 or something- and wonders how their photoshop skills are getting worse. Ugh, and the one they stuck her head on is maybe 5'll" and Jersey orange. She wishes her public character defamation was at least accurate.

"Girl, that is just insulting," Mercedes says from over her shoulder. Liesl rolls her eyes.

"You're preaching to the stylishly dressed choir," she mutters, crumpling it up and slamming her locker shut again. Mercedes takes her arm and steers her toward the choir room, throwing the balled up paper in the trash.

Of course, when they get to Glee, Mr. Schue is talking crazy talk about something and the girls and guys are split up again. Liesl thinks half the reason they're always scrambling for a set list is because Mr. Schue is incapable of making good decisions, as evidenced by his marriage. Rachel is blathering something about their Sectionals competition and Liesl isn't paying any attention until she hears the words "spies" and oh my god, they'll be laughed out of the state if they let Rachel get within 10 miles of Dalton Academy for Girls.

"Rachel, no," Liesl says firmly, because sometimes she tries to watch the Dog Whisperer and apply his advice to her interactions with Rachel. Which then, of course, Rachel insists that if Liesl thinks she can do it better than her, to be her guest. A) Of course Liesl can do anything better than Rachel- mental note for an Annie Get Your Gun duet- and B) it's something to do with her afternoon that isn't watching hours of Say Yes to the Dress.

She recruits Mercedes and Tina- her first choices for virtually anything- to examine her closet for appropriate spy wear. Luckily, Dalton has an entire admissions page of glossily perfect looking girls in perfectly pressed uniforms that they can attempt to copy. Unfortunately, Liesl has never been into prep-school chic, but between some of her more boring staples and the emergency addition of one of Tina's more Lolita than Gothic blouses, they make an appropriate enough facsimile.

"You don't want us to come with you?" Mercedes pushes. Tina nods sympathetically, both of them more than aware of Liesl's deep-seated need to beat Rachel at her own games- and the extreme lengths she'll go to in that quest. Liesl shakes her head.

"We don't have time to make up all three of us- and the more of us there are, the more likely we'll get caught." Liesl points out quickly. The girls reluctantly let her go and Liesl's glad she didn't have to admit that she just wanted some time to herself. The girls on the field hockey team have been merciless this week and Liesl thinks that some quality driving time, belting along with Judy and Barbra will help.

That being said, when she gets to Dalton, she feels like she's stepped into the interior of an Upper East Side townhouse and people are maybe judging her nail beds.

She stops the first person she can find who doesn't appear to be racing somewhere, tapping her on her blazer-clad shoulder and the admissions pictures weren't kidding- their students are perfect.

The girl is painfully gorgeous, the sort of Gossip Girl, wasted-on-the-CW unfairly good looks that make Liesl worry about her pores- bright hazel eyes and ruthlessly straightened hair.

"Um, hi," Liesl tries, tripping over her carefully rehearsed spy lines, and it's only the thought of Rachel's smug superiority that pushes her through the rest. "I'm new here. What's going on?" The girl smiles, and it's like a JCrew ad puked on her. Liesl can't decide whether she's jealous or in love.

"Well, then, New Kid. I'm Blair- the pandemonium is because the Warblers are performing in the senior commons." Blair explains and then she laughs. "Come on, I know a shortcut." Blair tucks Liesl's hand into hers and drags her through several hallways, each more marble-coated and perfect than the last, her beautiful dark hair streaming behind her and Liesl hasn't been this attracted to someone since Meryl Streep.

When they get to the promised commons, Liesl stares around herself in undisguised amazement.

"So your glee club is actually... cool," Liesl wonders, watching more and more girls pour into the room.

"Are you kidding? The Warblers are amazing," Blair says, impish and lovely and- letting go of her hand. "And if you'll excuse me." Blair joins the Warblers, opens her mouth and oh-

Oh.

Liesl has never wanted anything like she wants Blair, singing Katy Perry, her hands slipping over her skirt, singing about running off to California.

After the concert- which passes in a haze of cherry-chapstick related fantasies- Blair bounds back up to Liesl and takes her by the arm. She knows it's not any different than when Mercedes does it, or even Quinn- who Liesl has had any number of truly inappropriate thoughts about- but it makes her skin feel hot and too tight and she knows she has to be bright red.

"We need to talk," she chirps, flanked by two more Warblers.

Apparently Liesl isn't as good at being a spy as she thinks she is.

"This is Whit and Devon," Blair offers. "And you are?" Liesl sighs.

"Liesl Hummel. When did you guess?" she asks. Blair smiles sweetly at her and Liesl's heart thumps wildly in her chest, and not just because they're probably going to take her out back and beat her. Well, have their servants beat her.

"We sort of knew the whole time. But you were so precious about it, we thought you might have had another reason to come here." Blair prompts her. Liesl winces and thinks about Danielle and Aliza on the field hockey team, they way they smack their sticks into her shins, the slushies- and she thinks about the banner on Dalton's website- "A safe learning environment for all."

"Is it true what they say...?" Liesl trails off, because she's heard some remarkably derogatory things about Dalton, things that makes her wonder and hope. Blair quirks her mouth in a delightful sardonic queue.

"That we're the Dalton Academy for Lesbians?" Blair asks and before Liesl can protest- although that is exactly what she's heard- Blair and her friends laugh. "We're not. I mean, I'm gay, but Whit and Devon have boyfriends." Whit smiles at Liesl gently.

"We have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to bullying or discrimination." Whit explains. "We just don't care."

Liesl is still stuck on Blair being gay.

"Guys, can you give us a moment alone," Blair asks quietly and before she knows it, Liesl is pouring her guts out, finally being honest about the time her clothes got stolen out of her locker during gym, about wearing tights in May because her shins are so bruised she can't wear skirts without them.

Blair is silent for a long moment, her pale pink lips pressed into a lopsided frown.

"Liesl, I would love to tell you to drop everything and transfer to Dalton, I really would." Blair says, reaching across the table to lay a warm, delicately manicured hand on top of Liesl's. "But I know that might not be an option for you." Blair glances out the window.

"I was bullied at my old school," she continues, and although part of Liesl's brain is silently protesting- how could a girl who looks like Blair get bullied- most of her is just thinking someone finally understands. "I eventually couldn't stand it, so I came here. But I do regret that I never stood up for myself. I ran."

"What, then?" Liesl finds herself asking. Blair smiles at her, kind and inspiring and Liesl is so lost.

Blair's Courage works about as long as it takes for Aliza to bang Liesl into her locker with a well-timed shoulder slam. But it's when Danielle takes her stick to Liesl's car- while she's still in it- that Dad and Carole tell her she's going to Dalton.

She doesn't really know how to say it- maybe it was different when Liesl was going to McKinley, Blair probably never booked on having to see her every day- so she chickens out and sends Blair a text.

I'm transferring.

Liesl didn't cry when Danielle Karofsky had her trapped in her car, screaming and smashing in the headlights, but she cries when when Dad pulls into the visitors' parking lot at Dalton and Blair is waiting for her.

"I'm sorry you had to, but I'm glad you're here," is all Blair says after all the things are brought up to Liesl's new room, helping her hang a triptych of Vogue covers.

"Yeah," Liesl says, trying to ignore how white the walls are, still.

Dalton is weird- but McKinley was weird, too, just in different ways- and no one is trying to beat her with a blunt instrument, so that's looking up. She doesn't realize she's made friends until there's a text from Blair, asking if she wants to get coffee and study that she has to decline, because her hallmates have her in a deep-cleansing mask while Lost and Delirious is playing on the terrible DVD/TV in Sophia's room.

They tie at Regionals, which is probably just as symbolic, whatever, as her freaking canary- oh god, she's Piper Perabo- but it means there's this strange sense of complacency that overcomes her about the whole thing. Most of her energy is selfishly fixated on figuring out whether Blair is her best friend (at Dalton, she amends faithfully) or her girlfriend without benefits, anyway.

This is further complicated by these looks she gets from the rest of the Warblers when Blair suggests "Firework" as their new song for a sullen fourth time. Liesl suddenly understands what Finn must feel like when Rachel stares at him accusingly for not filling in ~date time~ on their creepy cat calendars and, oh, god, that's the worst thing she's ever thought about herself. Unfortunately, the comparison still stands, because Liesl's not getting any and she's still facing the condemnation of an entire show choir. It's a pretty rock solid metaphor.

She's thinking about sending Finn an Edible Arrangement, though, because this sucks.

"We understand you may be emotionally compromised," Whit says, cornering Liesl after practice, Devon looking both sympathetic and irritated over her shoulder. "But I seriously cannot sing another Katy Perry song this semester. I just can't. She needs to be stopped." Liesl sometimes feels like everyone else is operating under a totally different set of delusions here.

"I'm not dating Blair," Liesl reminds her, because she's painfully clear on that point. She would have noticed that. Whit just laughs in her face.

"Sure you aren't," she says indulgently, dragging Devon off with her.

"What the hell," Liesl mutters under her breath, vainly fussing with the pleats of her uniform skirt. Ugh, she needs a manicure and a whole dose of "Kids Today are Whack." So she calls Mercedes on Skype and they watch I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant together until they run out of ways to say "you're a stupid bitch, look at your life, look at your choices."

"Thank you for being the least complicated part of my life, I miss your finely tuned ability to shut bullshit down," Liesl says frankly as they're saying their goodbyes. Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"Girl, in that case, go get some," Mercedes insists, not unkindly, but with the complete implication that she thinks Liesl is an idiot.

"Yeah, okay," Liesl mutters.

Blair lives three halls over, one floor down, in a corner room that has a closet Liesl would shiv someone over. Liesl doesn't think there's a way to knock cutely, so she just raps on the door like a crazy person for about twenty seconds straight.

"Hold- I'll- Just a second!" Blair calls, muffled and indistinct. It doesn't really make Liesl feel like any less of a crazy person that she thinks it's cute.

The door swings open and Blair is blinking at Liesl, wrapped in a towel, her hair damp and riotously curly around her face, and all Liesl can think is "yes, yes, oh hell yes."

"Hi-ey," Blair finally says, shifting mid-word and then closing her eyes for a second, centering herself. "Hello, Liesl. I, uh, just got out of the shower," The explanation is both unnecessary and endearing and Liesl seriously just wants to tangle her fingers in Blair's hair and never let go.

"So, I like you," Liesl finally says, and, to her credit, it sounds less like she's blurting it out, forcing it out of her mouth, and more like a firm declaration. "I recognize that you are perhaps at a disadvantage because you're naked under there, which is, I would imagine, distracting for both parties, so I'm willing to come back later, okay? Okay, bye." Liesl takes a deep breath and turns about face, ready to march back three halls and up a flight of stairs, but Blair says, "Wait, just- wait," and so Liesl turns around. Blair is clutching at her towel, using her other hand to wind her hair into a messy, unstable knot.

"I need- like- okay, two seconds," Blair begs, keeping three of her fingers tucked into her towel, but gingerly raising the other two. "Two." Liesl feels herself start to smile, even as Blair creeps back around the edge of the doorframe. "But you- stay." Blair closes the door and Liesl laughs and laughs, because they're so terrible at this, but that's great, that's wonderful.

"Okay," Blair tries again in a minute, her hair precariously dripping on top of her head, in the shortest pair of flannel boxers Liesl has ever seen. "I- you were saying, I mean, come inside- if- I- come inside." Liesl has never seen Blair this flustered and it makes her think that maybe this is going to be okay.

"I like you," Liesl says, and it's easier to say it again. "I came here to see if you like me, because otherwise Mercedes is going to make a shiv out of some broken, knock-off Dior sunglasses and cut me." Blair laughs, nervously, but is otherwise silent. Liesl stares suspiciously at her.

"This is the point at which you say "Liesl, I like you too, maybe we should date so all of our friends don't murder us," or you say "Liesl, I will never love you, get out of my room." I would prefer the first, but you have to pick one." Liesl prompts her. Blair squeaks, which isn't really an answer, either.

"No- no, no, no. I like you," Blair says vehemently. "I'm just- not good. At this." Blair flops down on her bed, picking at a piece of fluff on her coverlet.

"I'm not exactly an expert," Liesl reassures her, sitting close enough for their knees to bump. "But I think maybe you start by being happy." Blair blinks, but her smile is incandescent as she leans in close.

"No, I'm-" Blair pauses, leaning in so close that Liesl can tell how warm she is still, from the heat of the shower. "I'm really happy."

Liesl wants to make sure she's got everything clear.

"Wait, so we are about to make out, right?" Liesl asks. Blair laughs, but she kisses Liesl, anyway.

"I like you," she repeats, "I don't want Mercedes to knife you. I want to be your lame girlfriend." Liesl raises her eyebrows.

"I'm pretty sure I'm your lame girlfriend," she protests, but Blair just smiles and kisses her again.

"We can fight about it. And then, you know. Break up. And kiss and make up."

Liesl groans.

Fucking Katy Perry.