Glee/Firefly fusion, also Klaine.
The Unicorn Forest
Rated R, to leave me leeway for future activities, cursing, and prostitution.
AU, fusion, spoilers for both seasons.
Summary: Dr. Blaine Anderson had been on the McKinley for three weeks before he finally met the Companion who lived in the starboard shuttle.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee or Firefly. Just having some fun, here.
AN: OK, so totally crack-ified crossover action that I simply couldn’t resist. The three Chinese words you will find in the fic (a la the Firefly verse) re as follows: “di di” is little brother, “ge ge” is elder brother, and “mei mei” is little sister. If these are incorrect, I apologize, I fail at Google. Also, in Firefly parlance ‘sly’ = ‘gay.’
The Unicorn’s Forest
Chapter 1
“We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.”
The Last Unicorn
Peter S. Beagle
Dr. Blaine Anderson had been on the McKinley for three weeks before he finally met the Companion who lived in the starboard shuttle.
He’d met the rest of the crew already, despite making himself relatively scarce due to the burning humiliation of having to beg Captain Hudson for a position on a ramshackle ship populated by characters that Blaine was fairly certain were, in fact, criminals. His family was not, nor had they ever been, in trade, but he was reasonably certain that even ‘extremely specialized cargo transports’ (Hudson had been smirking when he said it) did not get shot at more than once in a single week.
However, since being disowned and blacklisted by his own father after confessing that he was sly, his option had been to take this position, or starve. Hunger, Blaine had since learned, was an inexorable force that would put even the most distasteful decisions into harsh, harsh perspective. Here he had regular, if substandard meals, shelter, and could practice medicine.
He’d made his choice; it would have to be enough.
Captain Hudson had introduced him to his sassy pilot, Mercedes Jones, a lovely chocolate skinned young woman who had winked at him whilst piloting with one hand and chatting into a palm communicator with the other. It seemed unsafe to Blaine, but the captain grinned and said she was the best in the system, bar none. As they left, he heard her assuring someone named Sam that they’d be swinging through Haven soon, and she’d see him then. Her tone had grown so sultry on the last bit that Blaine was relieved the cockpit door slid shut behind them.
Next had been the two first mates, although the female, a dark haired woman named Rachel Berry actually introduced herself as ‘co-captain,’ to Captain Hudson’s clear chagrin. She was slight and sharp, babbling through several self aggrandizing introductions in the course of about a minute and a half. Her fellow first mate was a muscle-bound man, similarly colored in skin and hair, who introduced himself simply as ‘Puck.’
The name ‘Puck’ did not refer to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, judging by the scornful laugh Blaine received when he asked. Hudson explained as they walked away that Rachel was the brains and Puck the brawn.
“Di Di (little brother) always says that we should just transplant Rachel’s brain into Puck’s body, then we’d have the best of both and we wouldn’t have to listen to Rachel’s voice anymore,” Hudson chuckled, finally showing Blaine to the MedBay and his quarters, assuring him that the rest of the crew would introduce themselves in time.
That evening Blaine had been heading to the crew kitchen when he caught the tail end of what sounded like an argument. He hesitated outside the mess door, not wanting to intrude.
“If the manner in which your food is provided is such a scruple to your conscience, Shepherdess, than you are certainly welcome not to partake in it!” A musical voice snarled before a slam indicated that someone had left in a huff.
Entering cautiously, Blaine saw a blonde woman sigh heavily before scrubbing her hands across her face. “That wasn’t what I meant, Hummel, that wasn’t what I meant at all,” she murmured.
Clearing his throat, Blaine smiled apologetically when the woman jumped. “ I hope I’m not disturbing you?”
“Oh, no! Not at all,” the blonde exclaimed, pulling herself together visibly, “you must be the new surgeon, Dr. Anderson. Mercedes mentioned you were charming and dreamy, and quite correctly, I see. I’m Shepherdess Quinn, part-time passenger and occasional crew member.”
Not quite knowing how to reply to that introduction, Blaine just continued to smile nervously. The shepherdess had taken his silence for shyness, bustling him into the kitchen and fixing him a bowl of what Blaine was sure was in fact actual gruel, straight out of a Dickens novel from Old Earth.
While he ate, two girls, a picture in light and dark contrast, wandered into the mess, decked out in greasy coveralls and linked together by looped pinkies. The dark haired girl threw him a wolfish smile while preparing two bowls of gruel, while the blond leaned in with a dazzling, if vague smile.
“Look, Santana, another pretty dolphin! Now ours will have company and maybe they’ll have sparkly dolphin babies!” Tilting toward him conspiratorially, she’d giggled, “Our dolphin is sad and lonely, even though he smiles and sings. Be sure to be gentle, sparkly crystals can break if you drop them.”
With an even more feral smile, Santana lead the blond out of the kitchen, quietly explaining to “Brit” that two boy dolphins couldn’t have babies, even mythical dolphins from ancient Earth-That-Was.
Seeing his expression, Shepherdess Quinn laughed. “Our engineers, Santana and Brittany. They’re both very… special. Just stay out of their way and for the love of the Father never say anything even slightly mean to or about Brittany and they probably won’t kill you.”
With that chilling advice she bid him goodnight, leaving him to toy with his gruel and reconsider the merits of starvation as this insane asylum masquerading as a ship sailed further and further into the black.
Over the course of the following weeks he’d learned that the crew was like a highly functioning (or completely dysfunctional) family, that loved each other enough to occasionally hate each other without any apparent harm to their relationships. The were all misfits and rejects, the bottom rungs of the lowest levels of outcasts.
All they had was each other, their ship, and a mysterious Companion, who lived in the shuttle and whom Blaine had never seen, until now.
Blaine was working on a complete inventory of the meds currently on hand when a soft knock interrupted his count. He turned around swiftly, not quite hoping for an interesting medical issue to be presenting itself. The number of 200 mg analgesic tablets completely slipped his mind when he saw who was standing in his doorway, backlit by the overhead lights of the crew lounge outside his office.
A slender, medium height young man with fair, clear skin, sea colored eyes and chestnut hair falling over his forehead in a boyish cut smiled at him with the enigmatic smile common to all Companions. He was dressed in a creamy tan raw silk shirt and pants, covered by a peacock blue kimono style robe. His face was clean of makeup and his feet bare against the metal floor, and yet he was the richest, brightest thing Blaine had seen since being ejected from his family’s estate.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything of import, doctor,” the Companion stated in a meticulously trained and controlled countertenor, meeting his eyes with the directness of someone used to commanding the attention of a room.
Rather than feeling tongue-tied and abashed, as many would be when suddenly confronted by one of society’s much sought after courtesans, Blaine felt, at long last on this strange ship, that he was in his element. This was the culture in which he’d been raised, amongst the richest of the rich, where the presence of a Companion at a soiree was the rule rather than the exception.
Crossing the room in two swift strides, he executed a courtly bow over the young man’s outstretched hand, just brushing his lips over the pale knuckles.
“You must be Companion Kurt Hummel, of course. Rest assured, you could never be interrupting.”
The charm and etiquette were like and old friend or a well worn pair of shoes, so easy to slip into and so comforting! Kurt pulled his hand back with a gently knowing smile, folding both hands in front of him, a picture of serene empathy and interest, yet another trademark Companion expression.
“You’re too gracious, doctor. It’s a blessing to have a medical professional of your caliber and education on board. I hope you’re settling in well.” Kurt stepped forward into the room as he spoke, three small precise steps that brought him to the edge of the exam table.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I wonder if you could grant me a moment of your time?” the Companion inquired, with the typical gracious tone of his profession.
Moving to the opposite side of the table, Blaine ran a quick medical eye over the other man. “Are you unwell, Companion Hummel?”
The Companion’s expression never wavered. “Not as such, no. I’m in need of a mild topical antibacterial salve, with some anesthetic properties if possible. I usually prefer organic treatments, but my little aloe plant may die if I trim anymore leaves off it.”
At the idea of some injury, however mild, Blaine’s hands were already reaching across the table.
“I’m afraid I can’t ethically dispense any medication without first assessing the injury with a physical examination.” Blaine realized he might be alienating the only other person aboard ship to whom he readily relate, but he’d always been a stickler for the ethics of his profession, no matter how pretty the face of his patient.
Hummel stepped back immediately, raising one brow in a clear expression of ‘oh, really now?’ His body language closed off instantly, arms folded and hands tucked into the deep cuffs of his sleeves. More strikingly, he seemed to retreat behind his eyes, remote and cold as a distant mountain peak.
It occurred to Blaine that this sort of line may have been used on the other man before, and he hastened to clarify. There was a reason Companions only ever saw Guild doctors. Terrible liberties had been taken in the past by unethical doctors taking advantage of their position and the immediate medical need of the Companions in question.
“You may have another crewmember or person of your choosing present during the examination, in the absence of a nurse, if you would feel more comfortable.”
At this, the Companion’s expression unexpectedly cracked into what could only be termed a silly smile, momentarily throwing Blaine. He’d never seen any Companion in his experience wear such a young, unguarded expression.
“Oh, yes, guys, please come watch my medical exam! I’m sure Ge Ge (elder brother) would love that. I wonder how long it would take him to flee the room in terror.” He titled his head as if he was picturing it, and then he laughed.
Blaine had met many Companions in his life. He had seen them tell jokes, trade cutting witticisms, titter flirtatiously at the jests of their patrons.
This laugh, Kurt’s laugh (because it surely wasn’t Companion Hummel’s laugh) was bright and hyper and just a little wacky. It made Kurt’s eyes crinkle and his face light up, pink with giddy humor. It was a silly, inane, yet utterly infectious joy.
It was the first time anything had made Blaine grin against his will since his deportment teacher had trained him to control his facial expressions as a child.
It was the first time he’d wanted to crack a sincere smile since his father had struck his name from the Anderson family records on a black day not long past.
And yet…
They were both laughing hysterically together, and Blaine had no idea what they were laughing about.
Finally, he reached for his professionalism and got himself under control, watching in relief as the Comp--as Kurt-- did the same.
“Sorry-- I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t aware you had family aboard.,” Blaine didn’t know if relief was what he was feeling when he saw Kurt pull himself back from a second round of hysterical giggles.
“Oh, no doctor, I should be apologizing to you. I forgot how protective and… well, secretive the crew can be when it comes to strangers. By Ge Ge I was referring to Captain Hudson,” Kurt seemed to want to laugh again and Blaine suspected it had something to do with the look on his face.
Graceful, elegant, articulate Kurt Hummel was the younger brother of Finn Hudson, the overgrown, perpetually hungry and somewhat inept space pirate?
What the hell?!
Then the last names hit him, and Kurt’s amused expression made sense. It all made sense.
“You’re stepsiblings?” he inquired, unsure if it was a bond of marriage or merely longstanding mutual affection that made them family. Kurt pouted and it was yet another expression he’d never seen on a Companion before.
“Damn. You figured it out much faster than Sam did. He was confused for weeks.” Kurt sighed, but smiled again, a quicksilver change of emotion that made Blaine dizzy. His life had been one of regiment and decorum, and yet here was someone trained, like him, to the highest levels of deportment, who could turn that training off. Who could slide it away like a Noh mask and underneath it be mercury, be like water beneath stone, be like birdsong at dawn.
Blaine was so, so dizzy.
“Yes. Well, thanks--er, I guess. I--um, ointment! You asked for a salve! I have some!”
“Salve?” Kurt looked very amused by the word. Maybe it was the embarrassing amount of emphasis Blaine had placed on it. He could feel his face heat up.
“Yes! I mean, yes, I do. I would still like to make a brief inspection of the injury before prescribing it, though. Is there someone I can call for you, to be present during the exam?” There, they had circled back to the impasse again and Kurt’s expressive face stilled for a long moment.
At last, another unique smile slipped across Kurt’s features.
“A witness will be unnecessary,” he murmured, “I trust you, Dr. Anderson.”
“It’s Blaine.”
“Then I trust you Blaine.”
Kurt’s face was pink and Blaine wondered if he was embarrassed by the amount of emphasis he’d placed on the last word, on his name.
Blaine knew the feeling.
Later that night Blaine attended the crew’s “Friday Night Dinner” for the first time since coming aboard. The crew looked surprised to see him, though not displeased. Captain Hudson alone seemed a little worried at his appearance, glancing anxiously at the door from time to time.
Mercedes smiled across the communal table in welcome, noticing the Captain‘s glances. “Don’t worry about Finn. He’s just worried Kurt won’t come to dinner ’cause he hasn’t met you yet. Kurt’s real shy around new people on the ship.”
Captain Hudson, or Finn apparently, shot her a ‘shut up now’ look that didn’t seem to phase the pilot. Blaine’s expression must have showed his confusion, though, because Brittany spoke up next.
“Poor Kurtie gets tired from being shiny Kurt all the time and on the ship when we’re alone he gets to be soft Kurt. Strangers on the ship mean he has to be shiny at home, too. You have to meet shiny Kurt lots of times before you get to meet soft Kurt,” she smiled dreamily across at him, before returning to her gruel with a crinkled up expression of distaste.
Santana spoke next, probably long accustomed to interpreting for her lover. “She means you gotta meet Companion Hummel like a shitload of times before you get to meet Kurt. All that time smiling pretty and whatever for cash makes him wicked uptight about meeting strangers… way from work.” Finn made a distressed sound that Santana cheerfully ignored.
Blaine, if anything, was even more confused after that explanation. “But I met him today?”
They a smiled sadly at him and Rachel leaned over to pat his hand.
“Don’t feel bad doctor. He really does warm up after a while. I think you’ll really get along when you get to know each other. You have a lot in common.”
Blaine was still confused. He understood what they were saying, it even made sense. Companions probably did have issues with meeting new people socially without stigma. Still, though, he was certain that he had met Kurt, soft Kurt.
Now he just didn’t know why he was clearly an exception to long established rule in Kurt’s world. He frowned thoughtfully, turning it over in his mind like a difficult diagnosis.
Puck laughed at his expression. “Yeah, the ice princess melts… eventually!”
“Noah, if you continue to disparage me behind my back I will not continue to subsidize your gun collection,” a light voice huffed from the doorway.
Silence dropped over the crew and they turned to stare with varying degrees of surprise at the figure in the doorway. Dressed in a fuzzy, oversized, worn grey sweater and black exercise pants, there was no way this could be anything other than soft Kurt making a totally unprecedented appearance to a relative stranger.
No one spoke as Kurt made his way over to the table, casually stopping next to where Blaine sat on the end of the nearest bench. He arched a brow at the doctor, a playful smile hovering on his lips.
Blaine smiled back, ignoring the stunned quiet hanging over the table. He half rose to gallantly guide Kurt to his seat, as he had been trained to do when interacting with a Companion or a Lady, then abruptly changed his mind.
Dropping back into his seat, he tossed Kurt a challenging smile and scooted down along the bench like a child a recess. Kurt’s smile widened and he plopped down unceremoniously next to Blaine on the end of the bench, snagging an empty bowl as he sat.
“Pass me the protein mash, will you please? Oh, and don’t listen to these guys, they’re convinced I have multiple personality disorder or something,” Kurt’s tone was light as he picked some dirt off his spoon with the edge of a fingernail.
Passing the gruel, Blaine corrected him absently. “It’s disassociative personality disorder and no, you don’t have it.”
Kurt grinned as he slopped some mash into his bowl. “Dammit, Jim, I’m a prostitute not a doctor.”
They both laughed, oblivious to the shocked expressions surrounding them. Predictably, Santana was the first to find her voice.
“Ok, seriously? What the shit is this?”