Hi, I'm CP Coulter.
I love to write, and to listen to music. I may put some original things here, I may put fan fiction here.
I adore acting, and I love to sing. This is why I love Broadway, Musicals, Movies that combine both, and Glee.
Feel free to look around.
Looking for info about Daltonverse or other Side-Stories? Please check the navigation first to find what you need and more!
Story, art, video and other submission stuff go up at the submit page! :)
This happened in the span of the New York trilogy timeline
“Hello?” Reed called as he stepped into the Van Kamp’s massive New York apartment. He received no answer, but he just smiled and nodded to Kurt, “Come on.”
“Your mom isn’t home?” Kurt asked, pulling his bag along with him as they walked in.
“Not from the looks of it, but Marcel and Laney should be here…” Reed wandered off to another direction for a moment, leaving Kurt to marvel at the place.
He stared at the size of the apartment—it had to rival the Twins’ residence in size, but it was decorated and designed with all the precise tastes of the fashionable world. And to Kurt’s surprise, he saw large photographs of Reed framed on the walls in the living room. They looked like blown up magazine pages.
He raised an eyebrow and tapped at a gold chrome frame. “And…when were you ever in a magazine?” he called
“Just—get—” Reed appeared at his elbow, turned bright scarlet and dragged his amused friend away from the frame.
“Honestly, how old were you then? You looked five.”
“I was seven. Can we—just—let’s not talk about that.”
“I should tell Shane that you were once a model.”
“Don’t tell Shane!” Reed cried.
“I was joking, Reed, you really have to calm down about him.” Kurt smirked and crossed his arms over his chest as he moved to the living room.
Reed fidgeted. “I’m working on that.”
Kurt looked up as he became vaguely aware of a rumbling sound. “What is—”
He never got to continue his sentence as something utterly massive and covered in white and brown fur practically leaped off the stairs and slammed Reed into the ground with a crash. Kurt’s gasp was drowned out by the overenthusiastic bark of a huge St. Bernard, with a gold collar and a pink ribbon, that had practically flattened the artist.
“Oh my god—Reed!” Kurt ran forward towards the dog, who had all four paws on top of its master.
“No—I’m fine—” Reed coughed from the floor. “…I may have broken my nose—am I bleeding?”
“How do I—” Kurt stared helplessly at the happily panting dog pinning Reed to the ground, not sure how to get it off him. It was nuzzling Reed very happily, pretty glad to see him.
“Coco—off, come on, girl—get off me.” Reed grunted as he struggled against his dog, hands burying into the dog’s thick coat.
Coco did acquiesce, partially, as she pawed at Reed and snuffled over him, possibly checking if he was okay. Kurt stared at his friend. “…aaand you’re bleeding.”
“Again?!” Reed groaned, touching his nose. The dog started to slobber him. “Eew! Coco—don’t do that!”
Kurt moved forward tentatively, and Reed seemed to signal that it was okay, as he handed his friend a handkerchief. “Here. What’s she doing?” he asked as Coco started to sniff him, inspecting him.
“You smell like brand. She knows you’re a friend.”
“Is that how it is around here…?” Kurt smiled, still a little uncomfortable around the big dog’s attentions.
“She’s just overenthusiastic.”
“Still bleeding, Reed. Let’s go upstairs—or do you have other animals that may maul you?”
“Thankfully Coco’s the only one.”
A petite maid with a bright smile arrived, wiping her hands. “Hi Marcel!” Reed said as he petted Coco. “Could you please get some lunch ready and get Coco away from us? We’re going to raid my closet.”
“Just for two, Mr. Reed? Or are you expecting company?”
“Tweedles will be back from their excursion,” Kurt reminded Reed. “Might as well have them stop over for lunch.”
“Great, then we can ask them about the party theme. Four please, Marcel.”
The dog did not want to leave Kurt and Reed alone. She was clearly fighting the kindly maid, whimpering. “She seems to like you,” Reed told Kurt.
“As long as she doesn’t tackle me, we’ll be friends,” Kurt replied. Reed laughed and gestured to Marcel to let the dog go. Coco followed the two fashionistas who began talking about planning their outfits for the party as they headed upstairs.