Carson exited the journalism classroom and slung his bag over his shoulder, sighing heavily and trying to push aside his exhaustion, since it wasn't even 8 a.m. He didn't suppose this would be the best issue of The McKinley High Muckraker ever published, but it would be adequate. After all, it was hard to consistently publish quality material when you were the only person on the newspaper staff who even gave a shit. But, nobody ever said that the life of a journalist was an easy one. If Carson had to write all the stories himself most of the time and come into school at an obscenely early hour in order to get the issue out, then so be it. He wouldn't ever have it said that he was a slacker. He just hoped Northwestern would appreciate all of his effort when the time came for him to apply there in his senior year.

Three more school years. He just had to hang on for that long, and then he'd be free from Lima.

He shuffled down the hallway and out the back door of the school, parking himself on the stone steps right outside, where he and Kurt always met on the frequent mornings when Carson had to come in early to work on the Muckraker. He looked around in all directions, but there was no sign of his twin. 

After ten minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of Kurt, Carson sighed and got up off the steps, heading toward the parking lot. It was entirely possible that Kurt had gotten held up by that annoying Rachel Berry chick wanting help with her French homework or something, in which case, Carson thought, he really should go rescue his brother from her clutches.

He turned the corner just in time to see a sight across the parking lot that made his blood boil. There stood Kurt in front of the dumpster, surrounded by those assholes from the football team who were always picking on him for no reason. One of the taller ones was holding Kurt's new Marc Jacobs jacket while the others were lifting him up to toss him in the dumpster. As if his baby brother was nothing but a piece of trash.

Fuck no. Not again. This was becoming too much.

His jaw set, Carson marched across the parking lot, determined to rip every last one of those jackasses a new one. He reached them in record time, grabbing Kurt's jacket out of the hands of the slack-jawed moron who was holding onto it.

"I don't know who the fuck all you Neanderthal assholes think you are, but I am SO sick of your bullshit, and you had better get out of my sight within the next five seconds," Carson practically spat, carefully folding the jacket and placing it into his bag alongside all his papers. Kurt wouldn't want it to get wrinkled.

"Or what?" asked one of the jocks threateningly, getting up in his face.

"Or I swear to God, I will put itching powder and chili peppers in all of your jockstraps when you least expect it," Carson replied cooly. "Now get the hell away from me, and you'd better hope I never catch you doing this to my brother ever again!"

One by one, the jocks started to leave, most of them throwing Carson dirty looks as they did so. Carson rolled his eyes and carefully set his bag down before peering into the dumpster.

"Are they gone?" Kurt asked, his eyes screwed pitifully shut as he lay among the rotting garbage. The sight made Carson's stomach twist.

"Yeah...yeah, they're gone," he replied, reaching his hands out to Kurt and making a grabbing gesture. "Come on, Kurtsie. Let's get you out of there."

Kurt grabbed onto his brother's hands and Carson gently pulled him up, lifting him out of the dumpster and setting him on the ground. Kurt looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

"Great, now I'm going to smell like trash all day. Wonderful," he murmured. "I don't know how they even knew I was there. They just cornered me out of the blue, and then I thought I was saved when Mr. Schuester walked by, but he didn't even seem to notice. Story of my life." He looked around, a panicked look suddenly appearing on his face. "Oh god, my jacket! If Finn walked off with it, on top of everything else-"

"Relax, I've got it," said Carson, indicating his bag, which he was slinging back over his shoulder. "All folded up for safekeeping."

Kurt's face relaxed. "Oh, good. Thanks."

"Anything for you," said Carson, throwing his arm around his twin and not even giving any thought to the garbage he was covered in. "We should probably go get you cleaned up."

*****************************

Thankfully, the rest of the school day passed without incident, and soon Carson and Kurt were in their shared SUV, on their way to visit their grandmother. Grandma had lived with the Hummels until the boys were twelve, when her ever-increasing memory difficulty had been diagnosed as Alzheimer's. It had almost killed Carson inside when Burt had made the decision to place her in an assisted living home, although it made sense to do so. Private home care would have been way more expensive than Burt could manage, since he worked long hours at his tire shop and the boys were too young to be expected to help very much. To Carson, it kind of felt like losing his mother all over again. He visited her every afternoon without fail, always hoping that it would be one of her better days and that she would remember who he was. Who Kurt was. All the good and bad times she had shared with them. It was rarely one of those days, but that didn't stop him from always hoping.

He glanced over to the passenger seat at Kurt, who was looking thoughtfully out the window. Kurt didn't usually make a habit of joining him on these visits. Carson understood. It was hard for Kurt to see their grandmother deteriorating further with each passing year. Kurt never actually said this, but he didn't need to. Carson knew. Twin telepathy and all of that.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Carson.

Kurt looked over at him. "Well, you know how Rachel got Mr. Ryerson fired after she told Figgins about his, shall we say, inappropriate behavior?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah."

"Ok, well, she came up to Mercedes and I during last period and started going on about how she had heard that Mr. Schuester had talked to Figgins about taking over the glee club," Kurt continued, tapping his long fingers excitedly on the side of the door. "And...I kind of want to audition for it."

"You should!" agreed Carson. "You're easily the best singer in the entire school. I doubt most of the beady eyed cattle that roam those halls can even carry a tune in a bucket."

"Oh, Carson, that's not true and you know it," Kurt protested, but even out of the corner of his eye Carson would see the small smile playing on his twin's lips.

"I only call it like I see it, Kurtsie," he replied smoothly, pulling into the parking lot of Sunny Pastures Assisted Living. 

Sunny Pastures was a quaint building that used to be a private home and was converted several decades earlier. It was huge and made of red brick, with lovely landscaping and several beautiful flower gardens for the residents to walk through. Carson liked it well enough. If their grandmother had to stay somewhere other than with them, he was glad this was the place, especially since the staff was awesome.

He and Kurt worked their way through the familiar halls, stopping to say hello to several nurses who knew them by name, before reaching their grandmother's room. Carson pushed the door open and gestured to Kurt. "After you," he said, smiling. 

Kurt looked nervous. He always did on the infrequent occasions when he accompanied Carson to Sunny Pastures. Carson grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Hi, Grandma!" he said cheerfully. She was sitting up in her bed, flipping through what appeared to be a clothing catalog. She looked up at Carson's words and smiled. 

"Visitors!" she said. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we haven't met." 

Carson could feel Kurt's breath hitching without even looking at him. "I'm Carson, and this is my brother, Kurt."

She kept smiling. "That's a coincidence. I have twin grandsons named Carson and Kurt, too. They're much younger than you are, though. I haven't seen them in a long time. Used to be I saw them all the time," she said, sounding sad. 

"Yeah, I...I think we know them, don't we, Kurt?" he said, squeezing Kurt's hand harder.

"Yeah..yes. Yes, we do," Kurt said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Grandma's face lit up. "You do? That's wonderful! Maybe you can let them know I miss them and would love to visit with them someday soon?"

Carson heard a choked sound escape Kurt's throat at those words. He was beginning to regret coming here with him. Kurt always had such a hard time handling these visits. He wasn't used to it like Carson was, and it hit him harder to not be recognized by their grandmother.

They stayed only a few minutes more before Carson could sense that they should probably leave before Kurt broke down and ran out of the room himself.

They said their goodbyes and went back out to the car. Kurt didn't say a word the entire way home. He was still quiet throughout most of the evening as the boys did their homework and then ate dinner by themselves, since their father was staying late at the tire shop. Carson decided he should probably do something to lift Kurt's spirits a little. It was depressing to see him so glum.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he asked him, loading his drink glass into the dishwasher. "You can choose. Anything you want."

Kurt considered the offer, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Anything I want?"

Carson froze. "Oh god, you're not going to make me watch The Little Mermaid again, are you? Because you know I'm not able to hold my tongue during that one. It's a horrible example for children, what with a sixteen year old girl getting permanent body modifications in order to impress her crush who doesn't even know she exists, and-"

"Relax," Kurt interrupted him, rolling his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking Chicago. I'm planning on singing "Mr. Cellophane" for my glee club audition."

"Oh," said Carson. "Ok, then." He shut the dishwasher door and held out his hand to Kurt. "Well, come on. Let us go and watch murderers be glorified through song and dance."

Kurt took his hand and began to drag him toward the living room, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"I most certainly am not. I'm just....honest."

"Mmm-hmm," said Kurt, setting up the DVD as Carson sat down. "Make fun all you want, but don't forget that I've heard you humming "Razzle Dazzle" in the shower." He joined his twin on the couch and curled up immediately, with his head on Carson's lap, using it as a pillow. Carson didn't mind this in the least. The close contact was soothing, and he secretly loved petting at Kurt's hair. Not to mention that being the only person Kurt let get away with touching it was a wonderful privilege in and of itself. Most people who tried to touch the hair Kurt worked so hard to maintain would end up losing a hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I told you, we never speak of that," Carson said, absentmindedly threading his fingers through the soft, chestnut locks on Kurt's head. "I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Noted," Kurt said with a yawn. "And keep doing that," he added, indicating Carson's fingers in his hair. "Feels nice."

Carson smiled and obliged as the opening notes of "All That Jazz" filled the room. He didn't even notice that Kurt had fallen asleep until halfway through the movie, when he looked down at his lap and saw that his twin's eyes were closed and he was breathing deep and even. He looked so sweet and innocent like that. Like a sleeping angel. Carson smiled. Kurt was the one perfect thing in what he had come to learn was terribly cruel world indeed.

He was debating whether he should wake Kurt up so they could go to sleep in their bed or just stay put and let him continue sleeping on his lap when the front door opened and Burt walked in, home from work at last.

"Hey, boys," he said tiredly, hanging up his coat and adjusting his hat.

"Hey, Dad," Carson said quietly, not wanting to disturb Kurt.

"How was your day?"

"Oh, you know. Same old," replied Carson. He and his father didn't really have the greatest success in the daily conversation department. Between the twins, Kurt had the easier time relating to Burt. It had always been that way. Burt tried bonding with Carson, of course, but as Carson felt terribly awkward around most people who weren't Kurt, it never really worked out. The only other people Carson had ever really felt a close connection with were his mother and his grandmother, and neither of them, of course, had been an option for years. "How was yours?" he asked back.

"It was good. Busy," Burt replied with a nod, his gaze falling to the sleeping Kurt in Carson's lap. "Long day for him, huh?"

"I guess so." Carson gently took the remote from where it still rested in Kurt's hand and shut the television off. "I think I'm gonna get him to bed. I'm sleepy, too."

"Yeah, it's pretty late. I'll, uh...I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Good night, Dad."

Burt headed upstairs and Carson gently shook Kurt awake. "Hey, Kurtsie, it's late and you're squishing me," he said quietly as Kurt's eyes fluttered open. "Let's get to bed, ok?"

"M'comfortable here," mumbled Kurt in response, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist.

"You'll be even more comfortable in bed," said Carson. "And do you really want to fall asleep for the whole night without doing your moisturizing routine? You'd hate yourself in the morning."

Kurt's eyes shot fully open. "Oh god, you're right!" He sat up and yawned, getting up off the couch and stretching. "If I skip a night, my face feels dryer than the Sahara."

They made their way down to their basement bedroom. Not much had changed in it over the years, except for the fact that Kurt had meticulously decorated it to his tastes the summer before. He had asked Carson if he had any input, which Carson did not. He really couldn't care less what their room looked like, as long as Kurt was happy with it.

The twins still slept in one bed, for a variety of reasons. For one thing, it saved space in the room, which wasn't nearly as large as it appeared. One large bed took up less space in general than two beds would. For another thing, both boys just felt weird sleeping alone at this point. They'd shared a bed so often during their childhood that it was like second nature now. Not to mention the fact that Kurt had developed a problem with sleepwalking ever since their mother had died. Carson had woken up on many a night to find Kurt gone, wandering around the house whimpering at whatever frightening images were filling his dreams. These episodes, more often than not, only happened when Kurt was worried or stressed about something, and usually ended with Carson leading him back to bed, holding him tightly and stroking his hair as he rode out the nightmare. He didn't know how either of them were going to deal when the time came to move out and go to college, but he figured they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Carson changed into his pajama pants and T-shirt and waited in bed for Kurt, jotting down a few notes for the Muckraker in the small notebook he kept in his nightstand. You never knew when inspiration would strike, and Carson liked to be prepared with paper and a pen at all times, just in case.

"Ok, face is moisturized," said Kurt, yawning and climbing into bed beside Carson. "Now, let's get some sleep, shall we? Rachel said that the signup sheet for glee auditions goes up in the morning, and the actual auditions are at lunch, and I need my rest if I'm going to sing well enough to get in."

"I really don't think you have to worry," said Carson, putting his notebook away and turning out the light. "Like I said, you're the best singer in the place. Mr. Schuester would be an idiot to not let you in."

Kurt's smile was visible even in the darkened room. "Good night, Carson."

"Good night."

****************************

"I'm nervous," whispered Kurt. He and Carson were sitting in the auditorium, waiting for Mr. Schuester to call Kurt's name to come up and audition.

"Don't be," said Carson, giving his hand a squeeze. "What have I told you?"

Kurt closed his eyes and took a breath. "That I'm a good singer."

"And?"

"That I'm going to nail it."

"Aaaand?"

"That I have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Right," said Carson approvingly, as Kurt's friend Mercedes finished up her audition. "And I'm here for moral support. You'll be fine."

"Kurt?" said Mr. Schuester, glancing back to where the twins sat and smiling at Kurt. "Your turn."

Kurt swallowed and got up, giving Mercedes a high five as he passed her on his way to the stage. He stood and faced the audience, introducing himself and his song before starting to sing. Carson couldn't help but grin. It was a good thing nobody could see him back there, because grinning wasn't something he was especially known for. Kurt's singing voice was gorgeous, though, and Carson was proud. He loved any time he got the opportunity to hear it. As Kurt finished the song and held a long note (slicking his fingers across his hair in the process, a signature Kurt move), Carson glanced to Mr. Schuester, who was jotting something down on his clipboard. It better have been praise for that flawless performance.

"Thank you, Kurt," he said. "That was very nice." Kurt smiled and made his way back to his seat beside Carson, breathing a sigh of relief.

"See? I told you. You were great," said Carson, squeezing Kurt's arm affectionately. "I loved it."

"Thanks," said Kurt happily. They sat and watched as a girl named Tina auditioned with "I Kissed A Girl," followed by a wheelchair-bound boy called Artie, who auditioned with some rap song Carson had never heard of. Then Carson had to bite back a loud groan as none other than Rachel Berry took the stage.

Rachel had been going to school with the Hummel boys since they were all in the first grade, and neither of them could stand her. She was obnoxious, extremely loud for someone so short, and rather reminded Carson of a troll. She was always going on and on about how she was going to be a huge Broadway star someday because all a casting director had to do was listen to her sing and they'd be falling all over themselves. Quite frankly, Carson thought she held a rather disproportionately high opinion of herself. She could hit high notes and shit, that much was true, but her voice itself was like nails on a chalkboard to him. He pitied the poor, unspecting Broadway patrons of the future if she ever got cast in anything.

"My name is Rachel Berry and I'll be singing "On My Own" from the seminal Broadway classic, Les Mis," said Rachel, flashing a wide smile at Mr. Schuester.

"Oh god," groaned Carson. Kurt elbowed him. Three agonizing minutes later, Rachel mercifully finished singing and Mr. Schuester took to the stage.

"You all were amazing, and I'm happy to say that I'd love for all of you to be a part of New Directions," he said, smiling out into the audience. "So, congratulations to all of you, and rehearsals start tomorrow right after school."

Kurt's face lit up and he grinned from ear to ear, turning to Carson. "I'm in!" he squeaked, wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

"I told you," Carson said, hugging him back, happy that his twin was happy.

Several days later, he was decidedly less happy as he sat in on the glee club's first actual rehearsal held inside the auditorium. He had his notepad and pen in hand, figuring that he could support Kurt and turn the new face of the glee club into a story for the school paper at the same time. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of spending an hour listening to Rachel sing, but he was prepared to suffer for both his twin and his art. 

He was not at all prepared to see that New Directions had apparently added a sixth new member, and that member was one of the football assholes who were always around as Kurt was being tossed in dumpsters or having frozen Slushies thrown in his face. Carson recognized him as Finn Hudson, quarterback of the McKinley Titans and also the one who had been holding Kurt's jacket during the dumpster attack the other day. Carson's face settled into a dark scowl. Who the hell did this guy think he was, popping up in the one place Kurt could freely enjoy himself? Since when did jocks join something like glee club, anyway? 

He watched as Rachel and Finn performed an embarrassing rendition of "You're The One That I Want." It was truly horrifying to watch as Rachel attempted to flirt with the guy through her singing. Carson thought he would barf when she theatrically ran her hands down Kurt's body as she passed him, and poor Kurt looked disgusted, too. 

I can't believe he practically just got molested by Rachel Freaking Berry, Carson thought, all attempts to take notes for the paper forgotten as he watched the sad little rehearsal unfold in front of him. That's so gross. I hope he doesn't throw up right there on stage. I know I would, if it were me.

To add to the entire disturbing display, Carson wouldn't help but notice the way his brother was looking at Finn. It wasn't the face of someone who was uncomfortable in the presence of one of their tormentors. No, it looked more like...like..

Holy fuck, Carson thought, realizing exactly what it was. He has a CRUSH on that Neanderthal.

Rehearsal couldn't end fast enough. When it finally did, and the twins were headed for the student parking lot, Carson let it all out.

"Um...what the hell is Finn Hudson, of all people, doing in glee club?" he asked.

"Oh, that. Well. after our first rehearsal, Rachel complained that she didn't have a good enough male lead to sing with, or whatever, so Mr. Schue somehow managed to convince Finn to join," Kurt explained. "I think he's actually pretty good."

"Good? Are you kidding? He sounded like an injured moose. And have you forgotten that he has happily stood by on more than one occasion while his caveman friends threw you into piles of rotting garbage?" Carson asked, sliding into the passenger seat of their car as Kurt started the engine.

"No," replied Kurt, "but, to be fair, he didn't do the actual tossing. And he usually holds onto my jacket for me. That's...that's sweet of him."

"SWEET?" Carson couldn't believe his ears. "Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, it's real sweet that he's willing to stand by and do nothing while you're bullied by his friends. What a hero. And this is the kind of guy you have a crush on?"

Kurt blushed furiously, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I don't have a crush on him, Carson. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"Kurt," Carson said, shaking his head. "We're twins, remember? I know you better than you know yourself most of the time, and you have a crush on Finn Hudson so huge it can be seen from space. And I have to say, I don't approve."

Kurt shot him an angry look. "Why do you care? He's NOT that bad!"

Carson sighed. "Kurt, I love you, but think this through, will you? First of all, he's straight. Secondly, even if he were gay, he wouldn't even come close to deserving you."

"But-"

"No, listen to me. In addition to the dumpster thing, and all the Slushies, he's thrown balloons filled with pee at you on several occasions, and the people he calls his friends have nailed our lawn furniture to the roof. Is this really what you want for yourself? You could so so much better. You deserve so much better!"

Kurt was silent. Carson looked down at his hands. "I just don't trust him or his minions, that's all. You know how protective I am."

Kurt gave him a small smile. "I'm aware."

**************************

"We're dead," Kurt said as he entered the journalism classroom, collapsing dramatically into an empty chair. 'We're totally dead."

Carson looked up from the laptop on which he was composing an editorial about what a travesty it was that jocks and cheerleaders were allowed to get by with subpar grades while the rest of the student body had to work harder.

"Who's dead?"

"We are," Kurt said. "The glee club. After the pep assembly this week, we are DEAD."

Carson peeked over the rim of his glasses. "Ok, I'll bite. Why are you dead?"

Kurt heaved a huge sigh and straddled the chair, hugging his arms around the back of it. "Mr. Schue is making us perform a disco number to recruit new members because we need at least twelve to qualify for sectionals. A disco number, Carson. DISCO. Nobody likes disco! The entire student body is going to kill us!"

"Wow," replied Carson, tapping away at his laptop thoughtfully. "I always knew Schuester was kind of an idiot, but this takes the proverbial cake. Is he really trying to recruit new members or is he just trying to embarrass all of you to death?"

"Thank you, my feelings exactly!" groaned Kurt. "Seriously, what the hell? I can't perform disco in front of the entire school, Carsey! I just can't. I suffer enough here without the added stigma of being Disco Guy. The Slushies will never end! My poor wardrobe cannot handle this."

"I solemnly promise to personally kick the ass of anyone to even dares to say the word "Slushie" to you," Carson said matter-of-factly, closing his laptop and giving Kurt a sympathetic look. "You guys could always refuse to do it, you know."

"No, we can't," said Kurt glumly, his chin resting on his hands. "We have to perform and then we're going to be the laughingstock of the school even more than we already are." He bit his lip, as though he were trying not to cry. "And to top it all, I got tossed in the dumpster again this morning."

Carson felt a flare of anger. "Those jocks again? I'll kick their asses. Starting with Finn. I knew having him in glee club with you was a bad idea."

Kurt shook his head. "No, Finn wasn't there. It was Noah Puckerman and a bunch of other guys."

Fucking assholes. Carson sighed and placed his laptop in his bag. He stood up, grasping Kurt by the hands and leading him out the door. "Alright, it's been quite a day for you, so why don't we get you home and we can lay in bed and watch those weird romantic comedies you love so much."

"Okay," Kurt mumbled grumpily.

Three movies later, Carson could tell Kurt was feeling a little better, but that the anxiety of the upcoming assembly was still at the forefront of his mind. As Kurt climbed back in beside him after his facial routine, Carson had the uneasy feeling that it would be a sleepwalking night for Kurt.

He was right. He woke up at 3am to discover Kurt standing up beside the bed and facing the wall, muttering under his breath. Carson caught snippets such as "I told you," "Nobody likes disco," and "Stop throwing fruit at us" as he got up and gently steered his sleeping twin back into bed.

"It's alright, Kurt," he whispered soothingly, getting in beside him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, as he always did when this happened. "Nobody's throwing anything at you. You're with me."

He felt Kurt relax in his arms and planted a soft kiss to his twin's hair before drifting back off to sleep.

Two days later, when Carson got home from his afternoon visit with Grandma at Sunny Pastures, he found himself with an armful of Kurt, who had thrown his arms around Carson's neck and was jumping up and down with excitement.

"We don't have to do disco! Praise everything!" he exclaimed. Carson smiled.

"Great! So Mr. Schue came to his senses for once and realized that disco would be social suicide?" he asked, setting his bag down.

"Well...not exactly," said Kurt furtively. "Rachel kind of had an idea."

"Oh god, you're all excited over an idea thought up by Rachel Berry? What the hell has that club done to you?" Carson asked, horrified at the possibilities.

"I know, I know, it's shocking, but actually, it's kind of a good one, I think," said Kurt, following Carson into the kitchen and sitting at the table. "See, she went to a celibacy club meeting yesterday-"

"We-Only-Give-Blowjobs Club, got it," quipped Carson, grabbing an apple and taking a bite.

"-and she had this idea that what we really need to recruit members is sex appeal," Kurt finished.

Carson choked on his apple. "Sex appeal? Rachel does realize that SHE'S in glee, right? If you're going for sex appeal, that right there is going to throw a huge wrench in the plan."

Kurt glared at him. "I know it's a long shot, but it's the best plan we've got, so a little support would be nice." 

"Ok, ok. So, I'm assuming that Schuester doesn't know about this?" Carson asked.

"No, not at all. Are you insane? He'd never let us do it, and then we'd be stuck singing "Le Freak" and getting rotten fruit thrown at us," said Kurt.

"What are you performing?"

"Push It, by Salt-n-Pepa," replied Kurt. "I wasn't too sure about the song choice, but it's way better than disco and we're less likely to get things thrown at us this way. We put together a little dance routine today, and as much as it pains me to admit that Rachel had a good idea, she did. Will you be there tomorrow?" he asked.

"You mean go to that assembly and watch Rachel Berry try to be sexy? Do I HAVE to?" Carson asked in between bites of his apple.

"Pleeeease, Carsey? I know you usually skip these things, but you have to come! You'll be the only member of the audience that doesn't think I'm a total loser!" Kurt whined, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and making the wounded puppy face he knew damn well Carson was powerless to resist. Carson heaved a huge sigh and patted him on the shoulder.

"Fiiiiiiine," he said. "I'll come, but only for you."

Kurt clasped his hands and leapt up, hugging Carson tightly. "Thank you!" he said, bring one hand up to ruffle Carson's hair. "Best brother ever."

"Yeah, yeah, the things I do for you. You are SO lucky I love you."

*********************************

Seriously, thought Carson the next day as he sat in the bleachers of the gym waiting for the pep assembly to start. He is SO lucky I love him. This is my worst fucking nightmare, sitting here among all these people I loathe and despise, especially all those jock assholes down there. He glared down to where he could see Noah Puckerman and the rest of the jerk brigade arm wrestling with each other. Idiots.

He barely paid any attention to Principal Figgins' speech, or to Mr. Schuester's introduction. He was too busy picturing a locker stuffed with severed jock heads. Is that creepy? Nah, that's not creepy. They'd deserve it. He was snapped back to reality, however, as soon as the curtain rose on the stage and the six members of New Directions started singing "Push It." 

It was...well....it was quite an experience. 

Oh god, Rachel Berry is thrusting into the air. She's THRUSTING into the air. That is so disgusting, I can't even. Eeew, Finn, no one wants to watch you run your fingers down your...holy shit, KURT. Kurt, what the hell, that's...that's actually....I'll be damned, that's pretty sexy. Jesus Christ. Is it weird to think your own twin brother is sexy? Oh, well, I don't...don't care...seriously, though, he's fucking HOT. Go, Kurtsie. You're certainly the only one actually bringing the sexy in this performance, that's for....oh my GOD, did he just smack Finn on the ass? HE DID. HE TOTALLY JUST SMACKED FINN HUDSON ON THE GODDAMN ASS. What the fuck. That's so gross. No, Kurt, no. Bad! Your hands are too good to be touching his ass. God. Eeeew, oh my god, Rachel, PLEASE stop fanning your crotch....KURT, fuck, who the hell knew you could move your hips like that? No, seriously, where did you learn how to...how to move like...okay, wow, seriously what.....EEEEEEW FINN AND RACHEL ARE MAKING ME SICK, is this almost over? Oh, ok...it's over. That was...that was just....

He wasn't sure what to do when the performance was over. Apparently, neither did anyone else. Jacob Ben Israel, the weird kid who sometimes helped Carson with the Muckraker but mostly spent all his time writing blog posts about the female student population's underwear, was the first to break the silence in the gym with a loud "YESS!" This was apparently all that was needed for the entire gym to erupt in cheers. Cheers. They were CHEERING for the glee club.

Well, damn, Carson thought, getting up from his seat and clapping along with everyone else. Kurt's gonna be happy, I guess. By the looks of Coach Sylvester, Mr. Schue is probably in a world of trouble, but....that performance was worth it. I'm...I'm gonna have to talk to Kurt about that smacking Finn on the ass thing, though. 

He made his way to the gym entrance and waited for Kurt, who exited several minutes later, talking animatedly with Mercedes.

"Carson!" he exclaimed, hugging him excitedly. "Did you see?"

"I saw," said Carson. "It was...it was great! Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Kurt said with a slight frown. "I'll catch up with you later, Mercedes, ok?" Mercedes nodded and headed down the hallway after Tina and Artie.

"What's up?" Kurt asked as Carson led him outside. 

"What was that with you and Finn?" Carson blurted out.

"What do you mean? What thing?"

"Um, the thing where you smacked him on the ass. That thing. What was that?"

Kurt blushed. "I...I kind of couldn't help myself, Carson. It was just there and I took the opportunity, you know?"

Carson crossed his arms. "Well, Finn is gross and you should definitely wash your hands now before you get infected with his moronic germs, or whatever." Wow, WHAT? That's the best I can come up with? What's wrong with me?

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Was that all you wanted to tell me?"

Carson hesitated. ".....Yes." He couldn't really think of the right words to tell Kurt his performance, minus everyone else, had been sexy as hell without coming across like a creepy pervert. 

Kurt sucked in his bottom lip. "But, the performance was good, right?"

Fuck, why does he DO that to me? "Yes, it was awesome," Carson replied. "Although, I'm probably going to have to go home and douse my eyes in bleach to erase the mental image of Finn and Rachel dry-humping onstage in front of the entire student body."

Carson could tell that Kurt was trying to suppress a giggle, but he was unsuccessful. 

"Haha, I got you to smile," he teased, bopping Kurt lightly on the arm. 

"Shut up," Kurt retorted, the smile still on his lips. "I just hope we got interest from enough people to fill out the club and qualify for sectionals now."

And with those words, a seed of an idea implanted itself in Carson's brain. 

**********************************

"See, Grandma, the thing is, if I joined glee club, it would be really good for Kurt. Because I still don't know why Finn is in that club exactly, and I don't trust him or his friends after all the crap they've put Kurt through in the past. If I'm in glee with him, then I can be sure that they leave him alone. You know?"

Carson looked at his grandmother, not really expecting much of a substantial answer, but feeling oddly liberated at being able to talk about this with someone, even if they wouldn't remember it later. Ever since "Push It" and his talk with Kurt that afternoon, an idea had been nagging at his brain, and he couldn't get rid of it. He wondered if he should join the glee club. He was shocked that he was even considering such a thing, because clubs, aside from the literary kind, were definitely NOT his thing. Especially not glee club. Carson hadn't ever really tried to sing before, so he wasn't even sure how good he'd be at it. He figured that even if he joined, he could avoid doing any actual singing. 

Still, though. Like he had just said to his grandmother, he could keep an eye on Kurt if he joined. Make sure Finn didn't do anything stupid, like catch on to Kurt's crush and use it to his advantage to get Kurt to do god knows what. Really, being in glee with his brother made perfect sense.

Grandma sighed, staring out of the window of her room. "I used to sing when I was a girl," she said dreamily. "If you like to sing, you'd love a glee club. I have a grandson who likes to sing. His name is Kurt. But he and his brother are just little boys. They won't be joining any glee clubs for a few years yet."

Carson smiled at her. "Thanks, Grandma. I...I think I'm going to join."

She didn't answer him. That was ok. He felt better having at least said it out loud. It helped him convince himself to take the chance.

Which he did, the very next afternoon. He hesitated outside the door of the choir room for a good ten minutes and was about to march inside and demand that Mr. Schuester let him join when he was pushed aside by three members of the McKinley High Cheerio squad. Quinn Fabray, head Cheerio and Finn's girlfriend, led the pack, followed by Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez, who gave him a disgusted face as she pushed past him.

Fuck you too, honey, Carson thought, hanging outside the choir room waiting for them to finish. He heard bits and pieces of the conversation between Quinn and Mr. Schuester floating out into the hallway.

"You may have read about it in the school paper. Finn and I have been an item for awhile now..." she was saying.

The fuck is she smoking? There hasn't been a goddamn thing about her and Finn in my paper, ever. I don't waste my time with fluff pieces about who's dating who in this glorified cattle farm they call a high school, thought Carson. He peeked inside the room and watched as the three Cheerios performed what was quite possibly the most boring, vanilla number to "I Say A Little Prayer" that the world had ever been graced with. At long last, they finished and exited the choir room as a pack.

"Excuse you," Quinn huffed, pushing past him and sneering. Santana followed suit, almost knocking him to the ground in the process. Bitches.

"Great performance," he couldn't resist calling after them. "That almost beat the time I sat and watched a coat of paint dry on the outside of my house. Almost. I think that was more exciting."

"Thanks. You should write about it in your little paper that nobody reads," Santana retorted, giving him one last bitch face before following Quinn and Brittany down the hall. Carson rolled his eyes and entered the choir room.

"I want to join glee club," he blurted out, not giving Mr. Schuester a chance to say anything. "I...I just do."

"You're Kurt's brother, right?" asked Mr. Schue with a smile. Well, that was a stupid question, wasn't it? He and Kurt were identical twins. He felt like saying "No, I'm just a creepy doppelganger who's messing with you for shits and giggles." 

"No, I'm just a creepy doppelganger who's messing with you for shits and giggles." Oh, fuck. Guess he really DID say that. "Um..I mean..Carson Hummel. I'd really like to join glee club."

Mr. Schuester looked at him carefully, politely ignoring the doppelganger comment. "Do you sing?"

"Does that matter? You're kind of desperate for new members, aren't you? I understand you need at least twelve to qualify for competitions," Carson replied.

Mr. Schue's smile, to his credit, did not waver. "That's true, but, um...it IS a glee club, after all, Carson. Can you sing something for me real fast? Anything. Anything at all."

Carson sighed. Fine. If he had to sing, he would sing. But he wouldn't make a habit of it. He racked his brain for a song to sing and burst out with the first thing that came to mind.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream..."

Mr. Schue's smile tightened. "Thank you, Carson."

"So, am I in, or..what?" Carson asked.

"I..I suppose you are, yes. We meet after school most days, can you make the meetings?"

"Sure can," Carson replied. Feeling generous, he extended his hand to the teacher, who took it and shook it. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

"You're welcome. Welcome to glee club."

Carson hid his smile until he was out of the choir room and heading toward his next class. Now Kurt and I are in the same club, and plus, it's an extra activity to add to my resume for Northwestern. Win/win. Of course, this means I'll have to be in the same room as Rachel Berry for an hour a day more than necessary, but...I am strong. I can deal. I am Carson Hummel, and am better than pretty much everyone at this school, with the exception of Kurt, who is better than me. And will always be.