Klaine Oneshots

What Can I Get

Kurt is seriously, seriously this close to quitting Cheerios.

It was hard enough fighting it out with Sue and Schue and Figgins to let him wear regular clothes all day (well, not that Kurt is anywhere near something so boring and common as regular but you know) instead of the classless red uniform (and this is still top of his list on why he will not be transferring to Dalton thank you), and it hurt to lose Mercedes and then turn right around and get Quinn back. And doing it along with Glee is infuriatingly time-consuming. But Kurt finds he likes his days like that - jam-packed with something he's supposed to be doing every waking moment. It gives everything a little bit of structure, makes it somehow more manageable rather than the hectic mess it sounds like it would be. Plus, this way, he has less time to sit around and get distracted by thoughts that run through his head that he would rather not be thinking, thoughts of two very different kinds that still creep into the back of his head when he sniffs out artificial blue raspberry or catches a strain of Katy Perry lyrics, respectively.

Unfortunately, with this current fundraising situation, he's got plenty of time to just sit around doing basically nothing. And quitting is starting to look more and more appealing.

"Is this even legal?" he grumbles to Brittany, head slumped onto the pillow of his arms at the white plastic table they're using. "It's basically prostitution."

"No, Quinn just gave blood like two days ago," she murmurs back, and it takes Kurt a good thirty seconds to figure that one out, though that's not too unusual. At any rate, he can't think on it for too long, because here comes Jacob Ben Israel with the leftover change from buying his lunch.

"What can I get for thirty-seven cents?" he pants, his clammy hand smearing the dimes and pennies into Kurt's and seriously messing up his moisturizing.

"The same thing you got yesterday for thirty-seven cents," bites Santana. She rips a corner off a sheet of paper from her geometry notebook, presses her lips to it to create a perfect shimmer-red print, and then uses the lip-gloss residue to stick it to Jacob's forehead. They all watch, gagging, as he peels it off and slips it into his pocket - way, way too deep into his pocket.

"Look out, ladies, I'm breaking my Dalek piggy bank open tomorrow." He shuffles away and for a moment Kurt is pretty sure Brittany is actually going to vomit into the cashbox. He just closes it up and flops his head back down.

Kurt mans the cashbox for first lunch. Becky does it for second lunch. The rest of the cheerleaders - the hot ones, the ones that everyone would want this sort of thing from - sell kisses at the freaking kissing booth.

"Is my breath okay?" asks Santana, leaning in Brittany's face.

"Let me see," says Brittany. She basically eats Santana's face off in the middle of the cafeteria, and when they're finished it's enough that she has to wipe her mouth. "No you seem fine to me."

"Okay, good. I'm almost out of gum."

"You should be charging for that too!" a basketball jock catcalls from a few tables over, and Santana fixes him with a deathstare.

"That's the preview. You want the real deal, it's four bucks."

"Your sign says two!"

"You have to pay for her to kiss me and you have to pay for me to kiss her."

This. Close. To. Quitting. And it's only Tuesday.

Lunch is almost over when Kurt's phone goes off pulsating in his pocket with a text message, and when he pulls it out the display reads Blaine.