The World is No Longer Mysterious: Part 4/5
Part 4
Unsurprisingly, Blaine’s relationship with his parents doesn’t really get that much better.
After that night spent at Kurt’s where he’d woken up with one message (call us if you need to be picked up) the subject of Blaine’s sexuality had been largely ignored apart from one incident where his mother suggested meeting a nice girl - Blaine promptly replied I’m gay, Mom, I told you a week ago and nobody had mentioned a thing about it since. Well, not until now.
“Blaine Anderson, get back here -“
Blaine slams the front door behind him and stomps down the street, folding his arms against the chill March breeze. Archie had thrown his second shoe in three weeks and Blaine had had to shell out the last of his allowance to pay for another shoeing, and then the poor horse had caught a cold and spent all his time staring despondently at Blaine as if it was all his fault. And as if that wasn’t enough, Blaine’s parents had skipped out on his Regionals performance and his mother had attempted to justify it by explaining she’d meeting with friends Blaine knew for a fact she doesn’t even like, and somehow it had turned into a shouting match about how Blaine was expected to go on to live a ‘normal’ life when he was doing so many ‘gay’ extracurriculars. His dad had just stayed quiet, like always. So Blaine walked out.
It’s nearly nine and it’s dark and Blaine’s starting to wish he’d had the sense to call Mouse with him, or maybe storm up to his bedroom instead. But he can’t go back, not now, that would be admitting defeat, and he’s a little bit too proud for that.
So instead he keeps on walking, rubbing his hands over his arms wondering how long it would take him to walk to Mike’s house on the other side of town.
He’s trying to map out a potential route when a car draws up beside him and the window rolls down. Having had water balloons hurled at him from jocks while walking home before, he automatically lifts his hands and says “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just walking home -“
“Home’s in the opposite direction, genius,” Kurt says, winking, “I wanted to know if you wanted a lift to wherever you’re going.”
Blaine drops his arms and finds that smile that always appears when Kurt’s around growing on his face. “I’m not really going anywhere.”
“Well, that’s good, because I am. Wanna come with?”
Blaine thinks for a second, maybe I should go home and face them, but he doesn’t want to. He really, really doesn’t want to have to deal with the disappointment and the irritation on his parents’ faces.
“Sure,” he says, and walks around to climb into the passenger seat.
Kurt tosses him his jacket as soon as he’s sat down, saying “You look cold,” and turns up the heating. Blaine smiles gratefully and shrugs on the leather jacket, still warm from when Kurt had been wearing it and smelling exactly like him. Blaine has wheedled enough hugs out of him in the past two weeks to know to a creepy level what he smells like.
“Hair looks good,” he comments, and Kurt grins. “Doesn’t it? They weren’t lying when they said it was strong, it hasn’t faded even a little bit. And my dad got so mad he banned me from using his card for the next three weeks.” He looks so proud that Blaine can’t hide his smile.
“So, where are you whisking me off to?” he asks as Kurt turns on the radio, tapping his fingers against the wheel, “Anywhere dangerous?”
“Okay, this is not going to be like the time where you walked in on an exorcism, that was your own fault,” Kurt warns, “I go to this place all the time. It’s like my relaxation spot.”
“At nine on a school night?”
“Shut up, you’re out here as well.”
“True, true,” Blaine sighs heavily and Kurt nudges him. “So what was it this time?”
“Apparently Glee Club turned me gay,” Blaine grumbles, “Despite my one and a half years in the Warblers. And they won’t give me any money to re-shoe my horse.”
“Parents,” Kurt says, and Blaine makes an affirmative noise.
“You’ve never told me about your horse, though,” Kurt nudges him, “What’s his name?”
“Oh,” Blaine pulls his knees up to his chest, “He’s Archie, he’s an ex-polo pony. I’ve had him nearly half my life.”
“Wow,” Kurt blinks, “I didn’t take you for the horsey type.”
“Oh, no, I’ve been riding since I was five and Cooper took up polo at Dalton,” Blaine laughs, “My parents bought me Archie when I was nine and I haven’t yet grown out of him. He’s my oldest friend, bar Trent.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Kurt looks at him, “Your best friend is a horse, Blaine.”
“Hey, don’t judge,” Blaine grins back, “He’s lovely. You should meet him, some day. I could teach you to jump.”
“The likelihood of me getting on a horse is about as high as the likelihood of me moonwalking into Congress and dancing like Michael Jackson in front of the President,” Kurt says, and Blaine shakes his head. “Just you wait and see, Kurt Hummel. I’ll get you singing, and I’ll get you on a horse. Trust me.”
They pull into a field and Kurt stops the truck, opens his door. “Get out, c’mon. We’re here.”
“Are we cow-tipping or something?” Blaine asks as he follows, and Kurt laughs. “Nope, idiot. Here, hold this,” he tosses a large pack of Lays at Blaine and vaults into the trailer, stretching out a hand to help Blaine up.
“So what are we doing?” he asks, and Kurt grins. “Well, usually I sit here and eat and meditate on life, but now you’re here I suppose I’ll have to make actual conversation.”
“Wow, poor you,” Blaine says dryly, tearing open the bag and grabbing a handful of chips. “That must be terrible.”
“It really is,” Kurt sighs heavily and tugs Blaine’s arm out of the way to get at the chips.
They lie in silence for a little longer, steadily making their way through the bag and watching the sky. Kurt tilts his head, says “Do you know any constellations?”
“A few,” Blaine says, “Do you?”
“I suppose.”
“Which ones?”
“Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion, Sirius, Leo,” Kurt shrugs, “The basics.”
“Mm,” Blaine rolls onto his side and stares at Kurt’s profile, illuminated by the full moon. His eyes are closed and he looks so beautiful it aches, low in Blaine’s chest.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Kurt says, eyes still closed, “Ask away.”
“Are angels real?” Because I sincerely think you might be one.
Kurt’s eyes open slowly. “No. No, they aren’t.”
“Are you sure? I just figured, demons, so there must be the good counterpart...”
Kurt flips himself onto his side and fixes Blaine with his scarily piercing glare. “Okay, Anderson, let me get this straight. You may think that there is a good thing for every bad thing, but guess what? There isn’t. There’s demons but there aren’t angels, and there’s a devil but there isn’t a god. And if there is, it’s doing a supremely shitty job of helping protect us.”
Blaine’s voice catches and sticks. “I - I don’t think God works like that.”
“What would you know?” Kurt’s voice is abruptly icy, “You’ve never met it.”
Blaine blinks and mumbles an apology, feeling like he’s completely ruined the peaceful atmosphere they’d established before.
“Doesn’t matter,” Kurt says, and folds his arms.
Blaine licks his lips and says hopefully “So, um, are there werewolves?”
Kurt keeps staring up at the sky.
“C’mon, Kurt, don’t deprive me of this knowledge. It’s nearly a full moon, I must know how to protect myself.”
A smile twitches at Kurt’s lips but he doesn’t turn, and Blaine pouts. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m chewed and mangled. My mood goes right downhill.”
Kurt laughs and sits up, scooting back against the back of the truck. “Okay, god. Yes, there are werewolves. I’ve tracked one once.”
Blaine mirrors him. “Really?”
“Took us four months and I got held back a year of school, but we did,” Kurt smiles smugly, “It was fun.”
“Four months?” Blaine exclaims, “Wow, you must have taken a while.”
“Excuse me,” he flips Blaine off, “One full moon a month, and otherwise untraceable unless you can count not knowing what you did while sleeping, which nobody can. We closed in on it on the third, but you can’t kill everyone in an apartment building because you don’t know which one is the homicidal crazy who turns into a wolf-human during the full moon.”
“Wow,” Blaine says, “That’s kinda scary.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Believe me, those guys are rare as rare. I’ve heard of one in ten years, and I killed it.”
“You killed it?”
“Yep,” Kurt says proudly, “Shot it right through the heart.”
“But - isn’t there a cure?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Kurt shakes his head, “Once you’re bitten, you’re gone. No cure.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “That’s sad.”
Kurt shrugs.
“Oh hey! What about dragons, are they real?”
Kurt scoffs. “No. And before you ask, neither are leprechauns, fairies, or unicorns.”
“Oh,” Blaine says sadly, “That’s disappointing. Well, what about vampires?”
“Never met one. They’re real, but they’re near extinction.”
“Ah! Shapeshifters. Are those real? Because it sounds pretty, you know, cool to be able to turn into animals and stuff -“
“That’s skin-walkers,” Kurt says, his voice going oddly tight, “And there is nothing cool about shapeshifters.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kurt says, “I’m cold. Let’s get going.”
“Sorry, I took your -“
“Doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Blaine grabs Kurt’s offered hand to jump down from the trailer and breathes out a sigh of relief at the warmth of the truck once he gets in. “What are you doing out here so late, anyway? I’m always seeing you around, just, walking.”
“What do you think,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “The streets of Lima aren’t going to protect themselves.”
“Ah,” Blaine nods, “Of course.”
“To your home, good sir?”
“Yes, please,” Blaine sighs, “To home.”
**
15th March, 2011
The doorbell rings and Blaine leaps up off his bed, snagging his wallet from the nightstand and rolling his eyes as the bell keeps ringing shrilly throughout the house. “I’m coming, I’m coming, geez,” he mumbles, kicking aside his boot bag from his time at the stables that afternoon and opening the door and his wallet at the same time, “Okay, how much do I - Kurt?”
“Hi,” Kurt says, “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, I just - I thought you were Chinese food, sorry. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” Kurt grimaces, “May I come in?”
“Wh - sure, of course, I’ll make space for you on the -“ mentally, Blaine flicks through available seating options “On my bed! On my bed. Um, why don’t you go on up and I’ll join you in a second.”
“Sure,” Kurt winces as he clips the doorframe on his way past and Blaine worries at his lower lip and wonders what’s wrong.
He collects a couple of pieces of fruit and a packet of chips and then, just to be safe, the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink as well.
“Okay,” he knocks the door open with his hip and then nearly drops everything at the sight of Kurt shirtless in the middle of his bedroom.
“Um,” he says, “I? What?”
“Sorry,” Kurt winces and twists to look at his back, “I fell through some stairs and now I’ve taken most of the skin off my back.”
“What?”
He turns and Blaine scrunches up his face at the grazes across Kurt’s back.
“Is it bad?” Kurt asks, and Blaine says “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”
“Yeah, but, how bad?” Kurt twists and they both flinch as blood starts welling up in the scrapes.
“Okay, hold still,” Blaine grabs his phone and holds it up, “Want me to take a picture?”
“Sure,” Kurt glances over his shoulder, “Should I flex, or...?”
“Very funny,” Blaine laughs and snaps the picture, “Here.”
“Thanks,” Kurt takes the phone and then pulls a face. “Oh god, that’s worse than I thought.”
“Mm,” Blaine does his best not to stare at Kurt’s chest, “Yep.”
“Ugh, this is gross. They’re all dusty.”
“Shame,” Blaine says blankly, his eyes zooming in on the four tiny metal studs resting against Kurt’s collarbone.
“I’m a purple spotted hippopotamus that likes to listen to Nickelback.”
“I know - wait, what?”
“You were staring,” Kurt says dryly, “I was just being helpful.”
“No, yeah, I just - I never noticed the piercings before,” Blaine says lamely, trying to quell the hot surge of want in his belly. He’s gotten pretty good at that, lately.
“Oh, yeah, those,” Kurt shrugs, “They were my birthday present to myself. Happy being eighteen.”
“They’re what, your second ones?” Blaine asks, and Kurt shakes his head. “Third. I pierced my own ear when I was fourteen. Second was my tongue.”
“Ah,” Blaine nods, and that brings his eyes level with Kurt’s chest and his nipples and -
“Shower!” Kurt says suddenly, “Can I shower? I’m covered in dust.”
“Yeah,” Blaine nods, “Um, should I clean your back when you’re done?”
“That would be great,” Kurt smiles and then inches towards the door, “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Sure,” Blaine says, “Um, have a nice. Shower.”
“Thanks,” Kurt waves and then shuts the door behind him and Blaine throws himself on the bed dramatically.
“You will never get a boyfriend,” he grumbles into his pillow, kicking his legs, and then the shower turns on and now all he can visualise is Kurt naked and wet and - no.
Blaine sits up and decides that it’s time to do some homework.
When Kurt emerges (damp and adorably flushed and still shirtless) Blaine has been staring at the same algebra question for at least twenty minutes. Thankful for an excuse to put it down, he stands and says “Want me to take another look?”
“Sure,” Kurt seats himself on the bed and turns so his back is to Blaine, “Are you qualified for this, though?”
“Sure,” Blaine says “I sat in on a twenty minute lecture about dressing wounds on horses once.”
“Great, I feel so reassured.”
Now Kurt’s washed all of the dust and blood off the grazes look like scrapes in some places and scratches in others. “Kurt, how did you get these?”
“Well, that’s a funny story,” Kurt flinches as Blaine touches his fingertip to one of the scratches, “I was at that abandoned hotel, trying to exorcise a demon, and it turned out to be particularly tetchy. I tried to swing from the landing to kick it down the stairs, but the wood broke and I kind of followed it through the stairs instead.”
“Jesus,” Blaine pours some disinfectant onto a cotton wool pad and wrinkles his nose when it slops onto his sweatpants, “That sounds nasty.”
“He was,” Kurt sighs, “But good prevailed, and the meat suit is now sleeping peacefully in one of the old beds. Hopefully when he wakes up he’ll just think he was high.”
“Hopefully,” Blaine nearly smothers his laughter against Kurt’s back but then realises how incredibly creepy that would be and he immediately wants to strangle himself, “Okay, this is probably going to sting.”
“Ow, Jesus fucking Christ Blaine -“
“Sorry, sorry!” Blaine drags the cotton wool down one of the shallower scratches and pats Kurt’s shoulder, “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Sure you didn’t, sadist,” Kurt mutters, but he doesn’t shift away.
Blaine continues in silence, sweeping the disinfectant across the scratches and putting a reassuring hand on Kurt’s arm when he jumps and twists away, hissing in pain.
“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs, “Didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s fine,” Kurt yawns and then the doorbell goes.
“Chinese!” Blaine jumps up again, grabbing his wallet, “I’ll be right back!”
He pays the delivery man and carried the bag full of Chinese food back up to his room, grinning. “Want some? I ordered plenty, and Coop’s not in tonight.”
Kurt looks surprised. “Wow, thank you. What is there?”
“Um,” Blaine peers in the bag, “Beef chow mein, spring rolls, something else with beef, something more with chicken, fortune cookies, shrimp crackers, and tofu. Oh! And sticky ribs.”
“Wow,” Kurt blinks, “Mind if I have the ‘something else with beef?’”
Blaine hands him the carton and a pair of chopsticks and takes the chow mein for himself, balancing the carton on his thigh so he can eat and tend to Kurt’s back at the same time. Kurt alternately makes sounds of contentment at his food or yelps in pain if Blaine presses too hard or uses too much disinfectant.
“So, how’s your dad?” Blaine asks eventually, the silence trying his nerves, “Is his diet going okay?”
“He’s reluctant, but I’ve stocked all the junk food in my room, so he doesn’t really have a choice but to eat his rabbit food,” Kurt twists to look over his shoulder, “Are you nearly done?”
“Yeah, just trying to work out how to dress them,” Blaine holds up different sized band-aids, “Any ideas?”
“I could always do it when I get home,” Kurt volunteers, but Blaine shakes his head.
“It’s probably a good idea to get them covered up, even if it’s only the deeper ones.”
“Just use the biggest you’ve got, then, and if it’s uncomfortable I’ll fix it when I get home,” Kurt smiles at him, “Thanks, for this.”
“No problem,” Blaine peels the backing off the biggest bandage and tries to still his shaking hands, “Hold still for me?”
Kurt bends his head forwards again and Blaine gets a little distracted by the back of his neck before he manages to stick the plaster down and smooth it out carefully. Curling his hands into fists to steady them, he covers the other two biggest scrapes before he sits back and says “Done, I think,” and takes a bite of noodles.
“Thanks,” Kurt grins, “Here, I did your algebra for you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you made a mistake here, so I just,” Kurt shrugs, “corrected it.”
“Wow, thanks,” Blaine grins, “You saved me from a detention.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “The dashing and dapper Blaine Anderson in detention? I’d never believe it.”
Blaine blushes for some stupid reason and gathers up the bits and pieces of the first aid kit, smiling. “You’d be surprised.”
“I’m sure I would,” Kurt clears his throat, “Thank you for the food and the first aid.”
“No problem,” Blaine nods towards the cupboard right of his bed, “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
Kurt arches his eyebrow at Blaine. “Watch a movie or watch a movie?”
Blaine blinks. “Watch a movie? Do you want to watch something else, or?”
“No, I was -“ he waves his hand, “Never mind. Yes, I would love to watch a movie. I would also love to borrow a shirt.”
“Oh,” Blaine blushes harder, “Of course, yeah, sorry. Um, hold on a second,” he dumps the first aid kit on his desk and rummages through his dresser, eventually finding an old t-shirt that looks like it might fit Kurt.
“Here. It’s not really your style, but - um. Yes.”
“Thanks,” Kurt’s eyes are twinkling with amusement, “I owe you.”
Blaine grins bashfully and half-turns towards the movie cabinet. “What do you want to watch?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kurt taps his chin thoughtfully, “How about Casino Royale?”
Blaine laughs. “Of course.”
Kurt shifts sideways on the bed to make room for Blaine and pats the mattress. “Come on then, Casanova. Let’s get this movie evening started.”
Blaine tries not to let his stomach flip at the nickname.
**
20th May 2011
“Jeez, I’m tired,” Blaine yawns, flopping down face-first onto Kurt’s bed, “I’m so glad finals are over.”
“Mm,” Kurt says, sitting down next to him, “Hey, isn’t it your birthday, soon?”
“Yeah,” Blaine rubs his face against the comforter, “Four days.”
“What do you want?”
Turning his head, Blaine frowns at Kurt. “You don’t have to get me anything.”
“Yeah, well,” Kurt blushes and shrugs, “You’ve been, you know, great to me, so I figured. I should.”
“Aw, thank you,” he reaches out and squeezes Kurt’s hand and tries to stop his heart from yearning when Kurt squeezes back, “You’re the best friend ever.”
Kurt laughs and then gets up, picking up his laptop. “You wanna watch a movie? Take your mind off our crushing loss at Nationals?”
“Ugh, geez, don’t remind me,” Blaine rolls over and pulls a pillow over his face, “I nearly threw up in my mouth.”
“I know the feeling,” Kurt sighs, “Or rather, the taste.”
“Quick, put on Casino Royale before I get stuck in a flashback!” Blaine squirms upright and grins as Kurt slides the DVD into the drive and waits for it to load. “So, what do you want for your birthday?”
“A boyfriend,” Blaine jokes, “That would be awesome. Or free tickets to New York, to find a boyfriend so I’m not the only loner in the club.”
“Hey, I’m single,” Kurt says, and Blaine drags the mouse over to the play icon, “Yeah, but you’re not gay, so at least you have the potential to get a girlfriend. All I have is Trent, and that’d be like dating my brother, or something.”
“I can see why you might want to date Cooper,” Kurt says helpfully, and Blaine groans.
“Kurt.”
“What?”
“That is my brother.”
“He’s hot!” Kurt shrugs, and Blaine sighs. “I know. I know.”
“So embrace it,” Kurt drops his voice as the movie starts, “Ride off his glory! Use his attractiveness as a way to get guys?”
“Nah,” Blaine slumps down and sighs, “Who would want me over Cooper- I’m-an-amazing-journalist-from-Medill-and-I’m-so-perfect-Anderson?”
Kurt goes quiet. Blaine mumbles “Exactly,” and turns the volume up.
Casino Royale has sort of become their go-to movie. Blaine enjoys appreciating Daniel Craig’s washboard abs and British accent. Kurt appreciates the low-cut dresses and expensive cars. Occasionally, one of them will make a comment about the action, but it’s mostly just ogling their respective interests over cushions or bowls of popcorn.
Kurt pauses the movie just as Bond comes out of the ocean and Blaine whines and reaches forwards to press play again, mumbling “This is the best bit!”
“I need to tell you something,” Kurt says, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously, “And I need you to listen, because it’s important.”
“Okay,” Blaine knocks the lid of the laptop down regretfully, “I’m here.”
“So,” Kurt starts, “I thought that you knew, probably, I’ve been - hinting at it, for a while, because I knew it’s something you’d be able to - support me in. So.”
“Kurt,” Blaine says, “I will always support you. Even if you enjoy kicking puppies or something, I will support you. I promise.”
“Oh, god,” Kurt sighs, closes his eyes and curls his hands into fists. “Okay. I’m gay.”
Blaine’s voice gets stuck somewhere in his throat and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. “I - what?”
“Never mind,” Kurt says hurriedly, “It doesn’t matter, it’s - let’s just watch the movie, come on.”
“No, no, Kurt,” Blaine shuffles so Kurt can’t reach the laptop and grabs his hands, “It’s okay, you know that, right? It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt repeats, steadfastly avoiding eye contact, and Blaine does the best thing he can think of and hugs him.
Kurt goes stiff and startled under his arms at first, but then he relaxes and hugs back, breathing shakily against Blaine’s neck. Blaine squeezes him as tight as he can, trying to convey everything he can’t say into his touch. I care, it’s okay, it’s fine, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Kurt stays in his arms for a few more seconds and then moves back, smiling. “Thank you.”
Blaine just smiles. “I’m guessing you want me to keep mum?”
“Oh, god,” Kurt laughs, “Yes, please. I just. Not ready, you know?”
Blaine squeezes his hand. “I know.”
He shuffles back around so Kurt can hit play on the movie again, and this time they settle in pressed against each other, the laptop balanced on their knees. Hesitantly, Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and squeezes lightly. Kurt squeezes back.
Blaine’s too wrapped up in his thoughts to make his usual comment about how painful using stirrups with bare feet is. Instead, he wonders if he has a chance with Kurt.
He’s gay, at least, which is a step forwards, Blaine shivers a little, my god, he’s gay. I might actually have a chance. Possibly. Oh god, what if he likes me back? What if he wants to date me?
“Blaine, you know New York?”
Blaine unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and swallows, “Uh, not personally, but yeah.”
“You know what I mean,” Kurt swats his arm, “Well, I was thinking, you know, if I maybe got a mechanics job in New York or something -“
“Hey, no, don’t limit yourself,” Blaine knocks their shoulders together, “I’ve heard you sing, Kurt, and you’re amazing.”
“Shut up,” Kurt mumbles, blushing, “You’re missing the point. When I graduate, I’m thinking of moving out there.”
Blaine whistles. “Wow, that’s - wow. You’ll have to let me visit.”
“Well,” Kurt says, “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to live with me. When you graduate. If you went to New York.”
Blaine’s mouth falls open. “You’d - you’d want to live with me?”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Blaine, you’re like a flawless roommate. You cook, clean, don’t take ages in the shower...”
A pleasant little shiver runs through Blaine’s body. “I - wow. God, yes, I would love to live with you.”
“Good,” Kurt claps his hands and bounces a little on the spot, “That’s great. Wonderful, even.”
Blaine nods and grins. Four years of living with Kurt. “Absolutely fantastic, one might say.”
**
24th May 2011
“Could you explain why I’m about to lower myself into a sewer on my birthday? I thought I was going to get a present,” Blaine asks, and Kurt waves him forwards. “It’s fine, it doesn’t smell. Your present comes later.”
“Sure, it doesn’t smell,” Blaine grimaces as he lowers himself into the manhole, “Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
Kurt grins at him from behind the scarf wrapped around his face and Blaine pinches his nose. “I’m going to be sick.”
“No time for that.” Kurt helps him down from the ladder, “There’s tracking to be done.”
“Okay, you need to give me the whole story, I’m feeling very behind,” Blaine says, trying not to breath in. God, he can taste it in the back of his throat.”
“Basically, there’s been a bunch of petty crimes done by people who also have incredibly solid alibis,” Kurt explains, setting off down the tunnel, “Solid like being at a family dinner or school club or even caught on CCTV at least five or so miles from the scene of the crime, when the crime was being committed.”
“Petty crimes like what?” Blaine says, jogging to keep up with Kurt.
“Like holding up a corner shop, trashing a bar,” Kurt frowns, takes a left at the fork and marks their route with a piece of chalk. “But whoever’s doing it always disappears right into this alleyway, and there’s no way out apart from the sewers.
“Maybe there’s a secret passage?”
Kurt just raises an eyebrow and Blaine blushes. “Okay, sorry, stupid question.”
“You’d be surprised at how many supernatural creatures think that the sewers are a decent hiding place. It could be anything, really. Could be ghouls, sirens, anything.”
“But, you said ghouls had to feed on the flesh of someone to take their form.”
Kurt looks at him. “There is more than enough flesh on a human body to feed two ghouls, Blaine.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “Ew. Wait, how do I know I’m not a ghoul? You said they could download memories?”
“You’re not a ghoul,” Kurt grabs his hand and squeezes it, “Trust me.”
Blaine’s stomach twists and flutters warmly. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out as a sort of squeak.
“It’s not likely to be ghouls though, because they wouldn’t need to do any of the things they’ve been doing,” Kurt continues, “So it could be a Siren, but that’s risky and kind of a long shot, especially since they just take any pretty form and it’s basically never for anything but sex.”
“So it’s not a ghoul or a siren. What else could it be?”
“I don’t know,” Kurt says, “I really don’t.”
“Well,” Blaine grimaces as something pink and slimy gets stuck to his boot, “Can we go home, then?”
“Man up, Blaine, I just need to work out what it is,” Kurt smiles at him, “And then we can go.”
“Good,” Blaine says, “Because if we spend much longer here I don’t know if I’ll ever get the stink of sewer out of my clothes.”
“Tell me about it,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “I have thrown away so many good jackets because of impromptu sewer expeditions.”
Blaine scrapes his boot across the ground, trying to dislodge the slime. Kurt focuses his flashlight on the floor and hums under his breath, sweeping it back and forth as they walk. Blaine can’t help himself from turning around every now and again, shining his flashlight down the tunnel to check they’re not being followed.
“Blaine, I promise you, we’re going to be fine,” Kurt reaches back and takes his hand, “Swear on my life, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine jumps as something drips onto the path ahead of them, “Okay, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he squeezes Blaine’s hand tight and tugs him along gently, silhouetted by the light of his torch. Blaine swallows and takes a deep breath. Not gonna die, not gonna die, not gonna die.
“Jeez,” Kurt says after a while, “I think we’re done. No more trail, and I’m ti - whoa, Blaine, watch out!”
Blaine’s ankle turns and he slips, but Kurt grabs his jacket and hauls him up again, nearly dropping his flashlight. Blaine screws up his face and then yelps, pointing at the curved wall of the tunnel. “Is that skin?”
Kurt steadies Blaine with one hand and inches closer, squinting. Blaine shifts his feet and something crunches underneath them, and looking down he realises he’s standing on teeth.
“Kurt, this is weird,” Blaine shines his flashlight down the tunnel but there’s nothing there. Kurt’s not moving, he’s just standing there, staring at the disgusting mess on the wall. Blaine turns and shines his torch down the other end of the tunnel.
There’s a figure standing there.
Blaine screams and that seems to snap Kurt out of his trance - he grabs Blaine’s wrist and sets off running down the sewer, his flashlight forgotten on the floor. The footsteps follow inhumanly fast and Blaine can hear laughter, familiar laughter that he’d heard only a few weeks ago, collecting his books after someone had knocked them to the floor.
“Kurt -“
“Shh,” Kurt hisses, pulling him right so abruptly it feels like his shoulder is being wrenched from its socket. Blaine slips and scrambles upright again, glancing over his shoulder and nearly hitting the floor face-first at the sight of Karofsky pursuing them, grinning demonically and laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s completely naked and somehow that makes it scarier, being pursued through the sewers by his tormentor, who is buck-ass naked. Blaine almost laughs.
Suddenly there’s a series of gunshots and Kurt loses his balance, sending them both crashing to the floor. Karofsky lets out an inhuman screech and his footsteps fade again.
“Who are you?” Kurt shouts, and then he has his gun out too and Blaine is starting to feel very ill.
“Kid, calm,” someone steps out of the shadows - a man holding a camcorder in one hand and a handgun in the other, “We’re here to help.”
“Put the gun down,” another voice says, but this one is female. She’s holding a larger gun, still aimed down the tunnel, “We don’t need some kid with a gun thinking he can handle a shifter.”
“What’s a shifter?” Blaine asks, and all three of them shush him.
“Guys, guys, just chill, okay?” a third voice calls, “It’s gone back to the dark hole from whence it came, I checked. It’s gone.”
“I repeat,” Kurt snarls. “Who. Are. You?”
“Who’s the kid?” the third guy asks, and the woman shrugs.
“How the heck should I know?”
“The kid is Kurt Hummel,” Kurt pushes himself upright and moves in front of Blaine, training the gun at the first man, “Feel like returning the favour and telling me who you are?”
“Wait, Hummel? As in, Moloch-the-demon-killed-your-Mom Hummel? Look at how much you’ve grown, jeez, you were knee-high last I saw you at the Inn!”
“Wonderful,” Kurt says through gritted teeth, “Please tell me who the fuck you are?”
“Sure,” the first man shrugs, “I’m Matt, that’s Harriet, and this is Cam.” He points to the woman and the other man in turn.
“Hi,” Blaine says, still waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, “I’m Blaine, nice to meet you.”
“Hi, Blaine,” Harriet says, “How you doing?”
“Shush, B,” Kurt says, and Blaine feels a little thrill go through him at the nickname, “You’re not helping.”
“Let the guy talk,” Matt says, fiddling with the camcorder, and Blaine waves. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“God, Blaine, shut up!” Kurt yells, and Blaine recoils, hauling himself upright. “Kurt, I -“
Kurt shrugs off his hand and lets the gun fall, scrubbing his sleeve fiercely across his eyes.
“Kurt?” Blaine asks softly, “Are you okay?”
“I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Um, okay,” Cam looks at Matt, who looks at Harriet, who shrugs. “May as well.”
“Basically, there’s a shifter -“
“A shapeshifter?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. A shapeshifter. Anyway, there’s one knocking about over here, so we decided to head over here to get rid of it.”
“A shapeshifter,” Kurt repeats, and his face has gone so pale he looks like a ghost, “Are you certain?”
“Well, unless you know any other creature who can shed its skin and teeth like it’s their favourite thing to do, yes, I am certain.”
Kurt licks his lips and closes his eyes, sighing. “Okay, fine. We’ll let you get on your way.”
“What?” Matt asks, “You don’t want to help? I mean, I figure you know how to handle a shifter from the look on your face, so...”
“Matt!” Harriet hisses, looking furious. Matt shrugs. “What! Four heads are better than three.”
“Oh, so the short guy doesn’t count,” Blaine says dryly, rolling his eyes when nobody listen to him.
“I have schoolwork,” Kurt says coldly, “I’m sorry.”
“Kurt,” Blaine mutters, “School’s over.”
“Shut up.”
“Sorry.”
“Well, okay then,” Harriet glances at Cam, who nods. “Want a hand out?” he asks, shouldering his gun.
“Yes please!” Blaine says hastily, “That would be wonderful.”
Cam waves goodbye to the other two and sets off the opposite way they came, pulling a flashlight from his pocket. Kurt doesn’t move, so Blaine slips their hands together tentatively and tugs him along. Kurt’s palm is clammy and cold and he’s clutching his elbow with his spare hand, his shoulders slumped.
“So,” Blaine tries, “What brings you to Lima? Apart from, uh, the shapeshifter.”
Cam shrugs, “Not much. Just visiting an old friend.”
“Oh, who?” Blaine disentangles Kurt’s hand from his and wraps his arm around Kurt’s waist instead.
“Nobody in particular,” he shrugs and directs them to the right. Blaine squints - he thinks he can see a faint glint of light a way away. Kurt stumbles and Blaine squeezes his hip. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he mumbles through clenched teeth, “Absolutely dandy,” and pulls out of Blaine’s reach, folding his arms and straightening his back, tipping up his chin.
Blaine can’t really think of anything to say so he just tugs his sleeves down over his hands and follows quietly.
The first breath of fresh air is like a blessing and Blaine hauls himself out of the manhole, groaning at the stink that clings to his clothing. Kurt is talking softly to Cam, his shoulders hunched. Blaine peels his jacket off and holds it at arm’s length, grimacing. Cam pats Kurt on the shoulder and waves to Blaine, lowering himself back into the manhole.
“Okay?” Blaine asks softly, and Kurt shudders. “No. No, I don’t think I am.”
“Well, I can see why seeing Karofsky chasing you naked would freak anyone out,” Blaine grins, managing to tease a tiny smile from Kurt’s lips.
“We’ll steer away from the sewers this summer, huh?” he nudges against Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt sighs. “Yeah. I guess we will.”
**
25th May, 2011
The call comes just as Kurt is tearing his room apart for the fourth time, searching for his phone. Finn comes thundering down the stairs, yelling “It’s for you, it’s Blaine!” and Kurt snatches it from his hand and says in a relieved voice “Hey, sorry about not replying if you’ve been texting, my phone’s missing -“
“Kurt? Kurt, fuck, I messed up, I need you.”
Kurt stops, sits on his bed and puts his hand over his other ear, blocking out the music from the kitchen. “Blaine? Are you okay?”
“Oh, god, you called - but it wasn’t, it wasn’t you, and I - I went and now it’s after me -“
“Blaine? Sweetheart, you need to calm down. Blaine, calm down, you’re not making any sense. Blaine, breathe, okay? In and out. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You called me,” Blaine’s voice is soft and strained, as if he’s desperately trying not to make any noise, “But it wasn’t you, it was the - it was the shifter, and I went back to the sewer and now - Kurt, it’s playing with me, and I can’t get out, I’m lost and I don’t know what to do, it’s going to kill me.”
Dread coils tight in Kurt’s stomach and he feels like throwing up. “Blaine, listen to me. You’re going to be fine. I’m coming to get you, right now, okay? I’m coming to get you, and you’re going to be fine, but I need to you to calm down.”
He hears Blaine take a deep breath and then let it out shakily, crackling over the shaky connection. “Okay. Now, have you got a flashlight?”
“I turned it off.”
“Turn it back on, on the lowest setting. Okay, are you near a corner?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Go check, does it have a white arrow on it?”
“Um. Yes?”
Kurt sighs in relief. “Okay, that’s good. I’m going to get you out of there, Blaine. I need you to follow the arrows, okay? Just follow where they point and they’ll lead you back to the manhole we came in through last time. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Blaine, I’m going to go now, but I’ll be there soon, okay? I’ll be there waiting for you. I promise.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a moment, Kurt.”
“See you,” Kurt waits until Blaine puts the phone down and then jumps off the bed and takes the stairs two at a time.
He shoves through the mass of testosterone absorbing half-burned pizza and tugs on his boots, yelling “I might not be back!” and getting a half-grunted response from Finn. Just as he opens the door, the phone rings.
He fights his way back through the football team and picks up the house phone, slamming it against his ear.
Blaine’s voice says “Hey, Kurt, I just figured something out - can you meet me at the manhole? I might need a hand.”
“Sure,” Kurt says distractedly. It doesn’t make sense for Blaine to call again so soon after the first call, there’s no way he can have made his way back to the manhole yet, and Kurt’s mind is whirring. Gotta ask a question that the real Blaine would know the answer to, he thinks frantically, but it knows what he knows, what do I ask?
“Um, can I ask you a question? Just gotta check you’re not the thing, you know,” he laughs fakely.
“Oh, sure, go ahead. Hit me.”
“Okay,” he glances down at his clothes and asks, “What am I wearing today?” The real Blaine shouldn’t know this.
There’s silence for a moment and then not-Blaine says “Black jeans, a red striped Henley and suspenders?”
A smile curls his lips. “Now listen to me, you son of a bitch,” he says silkily, “You better leave him well alone, because I swear if there is one scratch on him when I find him I will skin you and cut out your heart before I saw off your head. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Blaine’s voice says, and the line goes dead.
Kurt slams the phone back down against the table, ignoring the shocked looks from the jocks standing around him and says “I’m going out now. Might not be back.”
“Uh, Kurt, are you -“
“I’m fine,” Kurt says, and walks out of the house.
The manhole is only a fifteen minute drive away, and he grabs his gun and his last pack of silver bullets before he gets out. As an afterthought, he takes the silver knife with the ebony handle too. Who knows if he’ll have to make good on that promise.
Two steps towards the manhole and someone’s calling out his name. Kurt barely stops, lets them follow him.
“Blaine’s in there,” he says tightly, “And it’s going after him.”
“It’s probably best if you leave this to the professionals,” Harriet says sharply, and Kurt loads the gun. “I’m plenty professional.”
“No offense, kid, but you look twelve.”
“I can handle a gun and a knife, and that’s all I need,” Kurt looks up and down the tunnel, hoping Blaine will magically appear. Apart from storming into the sewers with his gun and a scowl, he hasn’t really thought this through.
“Look,” Harriet continues, “We don’t know where he is, but we do know that the shifter is just toying with him. What it wants is us, or he’d be dead already. He’ll come to us.”
“I need to find him,” Kurt insists, “It’s my fault he got into this mess, I need to help him.”
“Kurt, you can’t -“
“I have to! You don’t get it. Just let me be.”
“Kurt -“
“Kurt!”
He spins on his heel and Blaine is right there, doubled over and panting with one hand against the wall for support. And then a figure looms up behind him.
“Behind you!” he yells like it’s some stupid pantomime, and then not-Blaine’s arm comes around Blaine’s throat and wrenches him upright.
Blaine chokes and lifts his hands to tug at not-Blaine’s forearm but he can’t budge it. Kurt shifts forwards to do something, but someone’s hand is on his wrist and they’re tugging him back as the shifter walks Blaine towards them, the glint of a knife at its side.
“Let him go,” Kurt says, his voice barely making a sound, “Please, just let him go.”
“What?” Blaine’s voice teases, “You’re not going to skin me and cut my heart out like you threatened?”
Kurt can feel his heart thumping in his chest and he just whispers “Please.”
“Kurt,” Blaine croaks, and Kurt just feels weak. He can’t do anything, he can’t save Blaine and he can’t kill the shifter and he can’t do a thing.
“Put him down, asshole,” Matt snarls, stepping past with his gun raised, “Or I’ll blow your head off.”
The shifter doesn’t reply, simply hauls Blaine up so any direct shot will have to go straight through Blaine, but Matt cocks his gun anyway.
Kurt yells “No!” and shoves him so the shot goes wild, ricocheting off the wall and making Blaine flinch violently. Harriet’s hands seize him from behind and pin his arms against his back as Matt recovers his balance, glaring at Kurt.
“You can’t shoot him!” Kurt whimpers when Harriet jerks his arms higher. Matt rolls his eyes and cocks the gun again. “There are casualties in every job, Kurt.”
“Blaine isn’t even a part of this job!”
“You got him into this,” he says coldly, and Kurt wrenches his arms free and punches him in the face.
Matt hits the ground and stumbles back to his feet, snarling “You little shit, the fuck do you think you’re doing -“
Chuckling echoes around the tunnel and they both freeze. The shifter throws his back and laughs, pulling Blaine off his feet so he flails for a purchase.
“Oh, you’re funny, both of you. There are casualties, aren’t there, Matt? You’d know.”
“Shut up,” Matt picks up his gun and aims it again, but his hands are unsteady, “Or I swear to god I will put a bullet through your forehead.”
“What was her name? Frankie? And you begged so hard for her to come with you...” the shifter shakes its head sadly, “Such a pretty girl, too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Matt,” Cam says, inching forwards, “Matt, put the gun down.”
“Still, she screamed so nicely for me,” it shrugs, “It was worth it. Especially for the look on your face, oh my god.”
“She was just a kid,” Matt says softly, “You didn’t have to kill her.”
“Excuse me? We kill people. That’s what we do.”
“You don’t tease them,” Harriet says, “And you sure as hell don’t torture them.”
“Who’s to say I’m the same as the others?” the shifter walks Blaine a little closer, and his face is red with lack of oxygen, “Who’s to say I don’t like to have a little fun?”
“Just put him down,” Cam says, “Please? He’s just a kid. He’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh yeah? He came waltzing into my sewers when I called him, and that makes it his business.”
“Please,” Kurt begs, “Please, it’s my fault, he just wanted to help, just let him be!”
Blaine’s face is borderline purple now, and he’s making soft choked off noises, his toes barely brushing the floor. Kurt lunges forwards, desperate to help, to do something, god if Blaine dies he’ll never forgive himself, never. He needs Blaine.
“Blaine,” he says, “Blaine, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and his throat is closing up and he swallows as all six of them stand there, watching each other, waiting for one to make a move. Matt’s statue-still beside him and Cam has a restraining hand on his arm and Harriet is just observing quietly, they have to do something¸ they can’t just let him die. But nobody will move, not until something big happens, and Kurt knows that’s going to be Blaine’s body going lifeless and weak in the shifter’s arms, and he just can’t let that happen but he doesn’t know what to do.
And then Blaine’s foot jerks back and up and the shifter’s face contorts in pain. Blaine twists and then he’s on the floor and the sound of gunfire tears up the tunnel.
The shifter sways, topples backwards with a grunt of pain, blood spreading in a pool around it. Kurt stumbles forwards, flicks off the safety on automatic. He walks right past Blaine and stands over the shifter. It stares dully at him with Blaine’s eyes, filled with an animalistic pain. Kurt raises the gun with shaking hands.
Do it. It’s not him. It’s not Blaine. It isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t. He casts a glance towards the real Blaine, slumped against the wall with his fingers against his throat.
He pulls the trigger.
The shifter jerks once and then Blaine’s features melt away into a shapeless mass, the waxy mess oozing over Kurt’s boots. He steps back, grimacing, and then Blaine says softly “Kurt?”
He drops the gun, whirls to kneel in front of Blaine. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“Know how I said I thought shapeshifters were fun?” he croaks, “I take it back. You were right, they’re not fun at all.”
Kurt grabs his hands and holds them tight. “Blaine, god, I’m so sorry, I - I’m so sorry, I should never have -“
“It’s okay,” Blaine rasps, and he gets his arms around Kurt’s shoulder and draws him in tight against his chest, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasps against Blaine’s shoulder, and Blaine strokes his hair and mumbles “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Kurt collects himself as quickly as he can, pushes himself back and helps Blaine to his feet. Cam is crouched over the shifter’s corpse, examining it carefully. Harriet is standing over them, looking tired. “You two okay?”
“You lied,” Kurt says, “You said you were just visiting but you weren’t. You’ve been following it.”
“Since DC,” she says. Cam calls “It’s dead.”
Blaine says, “Kurt, my ankle, can you -“ and grabs his shoulder for support. Kurt barely registers it. “You knew where it was, why didn’t you kill it?”
“We had to know,” she sighs, “That it was the right one.”
“The right one? And what if it wasn’t? Were you just going to let it kill people?”
“You don’t get it,” Matt snarls, “You don’t get what it’s like to lose someone important to you.”
“Oh really?” Kurt curls his hands into fists, he is furious now, “I’ve lost my mother, and then three years later I lost the closest thing I’d had to one for a while. I’ve seen my father in coma because of a failing heart and just now I saw Blaine in a chokehold because you are too fucking stupid to kill something evil just because you don’t know if it murdered your girl. You know, I figured that hunters did things just to rid the world of a bit more evil, not for petty revenge schemes.”
Blaine whispers “Kurt, can we just go home? Please?”
Kurt slips his arm around Blaine’s waist to hold him upright and turns his back on them, still fuming.
“You’re a hypocrite, Kurt,” Matt calls after him, “Petty revenge? Think about what you’ve been doing with the past ten years of your life.”
The fury is delicate now, too easily shattered into hysteria. Kurt keeps walking.
Unsurprisingly, Blaine’s relationship with his parents doesn’t really get that much better.
After that night spent at Kurt’s where he’d woken up with one message (call us if you need to be picked up) the subject of Blaine’s sexuality had been largely ignored apart from one incident where his mother suggested meeting a nice girl - Blaine promptly replied I’m gay, Mom, I told you a week ago and nobody had mentioned a thing about it since. Well, not until now.
“Blaine Anderson, get back here -“
Blaine slams the front door behind him and stomps down the street, folding his arms against the chill March breeze. Archie had thrown his second shoe in three weeks and Blaine had had to shell out the last of his allowance to pay for another shoeing, and then the poor horse had caught a cold and spent all his time staring despondently at Blaine as if it was all his fault. And as if that wasn’t enough, Blaine’s parents had skipped out on his Regionals performance and his mother had attempted to justify it by explaining she’d meeting with friends Blaine knew for a fact she doesn’t even like, and somehow it had turned into a shouting match about how Blaine was expected to go on to live a ‘normal’ life when he was doing so many ‘gay’ extracurriculars. His dad had just stayed quiet, like always. So Blaine walked out.
It’s nearly nine and it’s dark and Blaine’s starting to wish he’d had the sense to call Mouse with him, or maybe storm up to his bedroom instead. But he can’t go back, not now, that would be admitting defeat, and he’s a little bit too proud for that.
So instead he keeps on walking, rubbing his hands over his arms wondering how long it would take him to walk to Mike’s house on the other side of town.
He’s trying to map out a potential route when a car draws up beside him and the window rolls down. Having had water balloons hurled at him from jocks while walking home before, he automatically lifts his hands and says “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just walking home -“
“Home’s in the opposite direction, genius,” Kurt says, winking, “I wanted to know if you wanted a lift to wherever you’re going.”
Blaine drops his arms and finds that smile that always appears when Kurt’s around growing on his face. “I’m not really going anywhere.”
“Well, that’s good, because I am. Wanna come with?”
Blaine thinks for a second, maybe I should go home and face them, but he doesn’t want to. He really, really doesn’t want to have to deal with the disappointment and the irritation on his parents’ faces.
“Sure,” he says, and walks around to climb into the passenger seat.
Kurt tosses him his jacket as soon as he’s sat down, saying “You look cold,” and turns up the heating. Blaine smiles gratefully and shrugs on the leather jacket, still warm from when Kurt had been wearing it and smelling exactly like him. Blaine has wheedled enough hugs out of him in the past two weeks to know to a creepy level what he smells like.
“Hair looks good,” he comments, and Kurt grins. “Doesn’t it? They weren’t lying when they said it was strong, it hasn’t faded even a little bit. And my dad got so mad he banned me from using his card for the next three weeks.” He looks so proud that Blaine can’t hide his smile.
“So, where are you whisking me off to?” he asks as Kurt turns on the radio, tapping his fingers against the wheel, “Anywhere dangerous?”
“Okay, this is not going to be like the time where you walked in on an exorcism, that was your own fault,” Kurt warns, “I go to this place all the time. It’s like my relaxation spot.”
“At nine on a school night?”
“Shut up, you’re out here as well.”
“True, true,” Blaine sighs heavily and Kurt nudges him. “So what was it this time?”
“Apparently Glee Club turned me gay,” Blaine grumbles, “Despite my one and a half years in the Warblers. And they won’t give me any money to re-shoe my horse.”
“Parents,” Kurt says, and Blaine makes an affirmative noise.
“You’ve never told me about your horse, though,” Kurt nudges him, “What’s his name?”
“Oh,” Blaine pulls his knees up to his chest, “He’s Archie, he’s an ex-polo pony. I’ve had him nearly half my life.”
“Wow,” Kurt blinks, “I didn’t take you for the horsey type.”
“Oh, no, I’ve been riding since I was five and Cooper took up polo at Dalton,” Blaine laughs, “My parents bought me Archie when I was nine and I haven’t yet grown out of him. He’s my oldest friend, bar Trent.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Kurt looks at him, “Your best friend is a horse, Blaine.”
“Hey, don’t judge,” Blaine grins back, “He’s lovely. You should meet him, some day. I could teach you to jump.”
“The likelihood of me getting on a horse is about as high as the likelihood of me moonwalking into Congress and dancing like Michael Jackson in front of the President,” Kurt says, and Blaine shakes his head. “Just you wait and see, Kurt Hummel. I’ll get you singing, and I’ll get you on a horse. Trust me.”
They pull into a field and Kurt stops the truck, opens his door. “Get out, c’mon. We’re here.”
“Are we cow-tipping or something?” Blaine asks as he follows, and Kurt laughs. “Nope, idiot. Here, hold this,” he tosses a large pack of Lays at Blaine and vaults into the trailer, stretching out a hand to help Blaine up.
“So what are we doing?” he asks, and Kurt grins. “Well, usually I sit here and eat and meditate on life, but now you’re here I suppose I’ll have to make actual conversation.”
“Wow, poor you,” Blaine says dryly, tearing open the bag and grabbing a handful of chips. “That must be terrible.”
“It really is,” Kurt sighs heavily and tugs Blaine’s arm out of the way to get at the chips.
They lie in silence for a little longer, steadily making their way through the bag and watching the sky. Kurt tilts his head, says “Do you know any constellations?”
“A few,” Blaine says, “Do you?”
“I suppose.”
“Which ones?”
“Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion, Sirius, Leo,” Kurt shrugs, “The basics.”
“Mm,” Blaine rolls onto his side and stares at Kurt’s profile, illuminated by the full moon. His eyes are closed and he looks so beautiful it aches, low in Blaine’s chest.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Kurt says, eyes still closed, “Ask away.”
“Are angels real?” Because I sincerely think you might be one.
Kurt’s eyes open slowly. “No. No, they aren’t.”
“Are you sure? I just figured, demons, so there must be the good counterpart...”
Kurt flips himself onto his side and fixes Blaine with his scarily piercing glare. “Okay, Anderson, let me get this straight. You may think that there is a good thing for every bad thing, but guess what? There isn’t. There’s demons but there aren’t angels, and there’s a devil but there isn’t a god. And if there is, it’s doing a supremely shitty job of helping protect us.”
Blaine’s voice catches and sticks. “I - I don’t think God works like that.”
“What would you know?” Kurt’s voice is abruptly icy, “You’ve never met it.”
Blaine blinks and mumbles an apology, feeling like he’s completely ruined the peaceful atmosphere they’d established before.
“Doesn’t matter,” Kurt says, and folds his arms.
Blaine licks his lips and says hopefully “So, um, are there werewolves?”
Kurt keeps staring up at the sky.
“C’mon, Kurt, don’t deprive me of this knowledge. It’s nearly a full moon, I must know how to protect myself.”
A smile twitches at Kurt’s lips but he doesn’t turn, and Blaine pouts. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m chewed and mangled. My mood goes right downhill.”
Kurt laughs and sits up, scooting back against the back of the truck. “Okay, god. Yes, there are werewolves. I’ve tracked one once.”
Blaine mirrors him. “Really?”
“Took us four months and I got held back a year of school, but we did,” Kurt smiles smugly, “It was fun.”
“Four months?” Blaine exclaims, “Wow, you must have taken a while.”
“Excuse me,” he flips Blaine off, “One full moon a month, and otherwise untraceable unless you can count not knowing what you did while sleeping, which nobody can. We closed in on it on the third, but you can’t kill everyone in an apartment building because you don’t know which one is the homicidal crazy who turns into a wolf-human during the full moon.”
“Wow,” Blaine says, “That’s kinda scary.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Believe me, those guys are rare as rare. I’ve heard of one in ten years, and I killed it.”
“You killed it?”
“Yep,” Kurt says proudly, “Shot it right through the heart.”
“But - isn’t there a cure?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Kurt shakes his head, “Once you’re bitten, you’re gone. No cure.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “That’s sad.”
Kurt shrugs.
“Oh hey! What about dragons, are they real?”
Kurt scoffs. “No. And before you ask, neither are leprechauns, fairies, or unicorns.”
“Oh,” Blaine says sadly, “That’s disappointing. Well, what about vampires?”
“Never met one. They’re real, but they’re near extinction.”
“Ah! Shapeshifters. Are those real? Because it sounds pretty, you know, cool to be able to turn into animals and stuff -“
“That’s skin-walkers,” Kurt says, his voice going oddly tight, “And there is nothing cool about shapeshifters.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kurt says, “I’m cold. Let’s get going.”
“Sorry, I took your -“
“Doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Blaine grabs Kurt’s offered hand to jump down from the trailer and breathes out a sigh of relief at the warmth of the truck once he gets in. “What are you doing out here so late, anyway? I’m always seeing you around, just, walking.”
“What do you think,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “The streets of Lima aren’t going to protect themselves.”
“Ah,” Blaine nods, “Of course.”
“To your home, good sir?”
“Yes, please,” Blaine sighs, “To home.”
**
15th March, 2011
The doorbell rings and Blaine leaps up off his bed, snagging his wallet from the nightstand and rolling his eyes as the bell keeps ringing shrilly throughout the house. “I’m coming, I’m coming, geez,” he mumbles, kicking aside his boot bag from his time at the stables that afternoon and opening the door and his wallet at the same time, “Okay, how much do I - Kurt?”
“Hi,” Kurt says, “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, I just - I thought you were Chinese food, sorry. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” Kurt grimaces, “May I come in?”
“Wh - sure, of course, I’ll make space for you on the -“ mentally, Blaine flicks through available seating options “On my bed! On my bed. Um, why don’t you go on up and I’ll join you in a second.”
“Sure,” Kurt winces as he clips the doorframe on his way past and Blaine worries at his lower lip and wonders what’s wrong.
He collects a couple of pieces of fruit and a packet of chips and then, just to be safe, the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink as well.
“Okay,” he knocks the door open with his hip and then nearly drops everything at the sight of Kurt shirtless in the middle of his bedroom.
“Um,” he says, “I? What?”
“Sorry,” Kurt winces and twists to look at his back, “I fell through some stairs and now I’ve taken most of the skin off my back.”
“What?”
He turns and Blaine scrunches up his face at the grazes across Kurt’s back.
“Is it bad?” Kurt asks, and Blaine says “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”
“Yeah, but, how bad?” Kurt twists and they both flinch as blood starts welling up in the scrapes.
“Okay, hold still,” Blaine grabs his phone and holds it up, “Want me to take a picture?”
“Sure,” Kurt glances over his shoulder, “Should I flex, or...?”
“Very funny,” Blaine laughs and snaps the picture, “Here.”
“Thanks,” Kurt takes the phone and then pulls a face. “Oh god, that’s worse than I thought.”
“Mm,” Blaine does his best not to stare at Kurt’s chest, “Yep.”
“Ugh, this is gross. They’re all dusty.”
“Shame,” Blaine says blankly, his eyes zooming in on the four tiny metal studs resting against Kurt’s collarbone.
“I’m a purple spotted hippopotamus that likes to listen to Nickelback.”
“I know - wait, what?”
“You were staring,” Kurt says dryly, “I was just being helpful.”
“No, yeah, I just - I never noticed the piercings before,” Blaine says lamely, trying to quell the hot surge of want in his belly. He’s gotten pretty good at that, lately.
“Oh, yeah, those,” Kurt shrugs, “They were my birthday present to myself. Happy being eighteen.”
“They’re what, your second ones?” Blaine asks, and Kurt shakes his head. “Third. I pierced my own ear when I was fourteen. Second was my tongue.”
“Ah,” Blaine nods, and that brings his eyes level with Kurt’s chest and his nipples and -
“Shower!” Kurt says suddenly, “Can I shower? I’m covered in dust.”
“Yeah,” Blaine nods, “Um, should I clean your back when you’re done?”
“That would be great,” Kurt smiles and then inches towards the door, “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Sure,” Blaine says, “Um, have a nice. Shower.”
“Thanks,” Kurt waves and then shuts the door behind him and Blaine throws himself on the bed dramatically.
“You will never get a boyfriend,” he grumbles into his pillow, kicking his legs, and then the shower turns on and now all he can visualise is Kurt naked and wet and - no.
Blaine sits up and decides that it’s time to do some homework.
When Kurt emerges (damp and adorably flushed and still shirtless) Blaine has been staring at the same algebra question for at least twenty minutes. Thankful for an excuse to put it down, he stands and says “Want me to take another look?”
“Sure,” Kurt seats himself on the bed and turns so his back is to Blaine, “Are you qualified for this, though?”
“Sure,” Blaine says “I sat in on a twenty minute lecture about dressing wounds on horses once.”
“Great, I feel so reassured.”
Now Kurt’s washed all of the dust and blood off the grazes look like scrapes in some places and scratches in others. “Kurt, how did you get these?”
“Well, that’s a funny story,” Kurt flinches as Blaine touches his fingertip to one of the scratches, “I was at that abandoned hotel, trying to exorcise a demon, and it turned out to be particularly tetchy. I tried to swing from the landing to kick it down the stairs, but the wood broke and I kind of followed it through the stairs instead.”
“Jesus,” Blaine pours some disinfectant onto a cotton wool pad and wrinkles his nose when it slops onto his sweatpants, “That sounds nasty.”
“He was,” Kurt sighs, “But good prevailed, and the meat suit is now sleeping peacefully in one of the old beds. Hopefully when he wakes up he’ll just think he was high.”
“Hopefully,” Blaine nearly smothers his laughter against Kurt’s back but then realises how incredibly creepy that would be and he immediately wants to strangle himself, “Okay, this is probably going to sting.”
“Ow, Jesus fucking Christ Blaine -“
“Sorry, sorry!” Blaine drags the cotton wool down one of the shallower scratches and pats Kurt’s shoulder, “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Sure you didn’t, sadist,” Kurt mutters, but he doesn’t shift away.
Blaine continues in silence, sweeping the disinfectant across the scratches and putting a reassuring hand on Kurt’s arm when he jumps and twists away, hissing in pain.
“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs, “Didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s fine,” Kurt yawns and then the doorbell goes.
“Chinese!” Blaine jumps up again, grabbing his wallet, “I’ll be right back!”
He pays the delivery man and carried the bag full of Chinese food back up to his room, grinning. “Want some? I ordered plenty, and Coop’s not in tonight.”
Kurt looks surprised. “Wow, thank you. What is there?”
“Um,” Blaine peers in the bag, “Beef chow mein, spring rolls, something else with beef, something more with chicken, fortune cookies, shrimp crackers, and tofu. Oh! And sticky ribs.”
“Wow,” Kurt blinks, “Mind if I have the ‘something else with beef?’”
Blaine hands him the carton and a pair of chopsticks and takes the chow mein for himself, balancing the carton on his thigh so he can eat and tend to Kurt’s back at the same time. Kurt alternately makes sounds of contentment at his food or yelps in pain if Blaine presses too hard or uses too much disinfectant.
“So, how’s your dad?” Blaine asks eventually, the silence trying his nerves, “Is his diet going okay?”
“He’s reluctant, but I’ve stocked all the junk food in my room, so he doesn’t really have a choice but to eat his rabbit food,” Kurt twists to look over his shoulder, “Are you nearly done?”
“Yeah, just trying to work out how to dress them,” Blaine holds up different sized band-aids, “Any ideas?”
“I could always do it when I get home,” Kurt volunteers, but Blaine shakes his head.
“It’s probably a good idea to get them covered up, even if it’s only the deeper ones.”
“Just use the biggest you’ve got, then, and if it’s uncomfortable I’ll fix it when I get home,” Kurt smiles at him, “Thanks, for this.”
“No problem,” Blaine peels the backing off the biggest bandage and tries to still his shaking hands, “Hold still for me?”
Kurt bends his head forwards again and Blaine gets a little distracted by the back of his neck before he manages to stick the plaster down and smooth it out carefully. Curling his hands into fists to steady them, he covers the other two biggest scrapes before he sits back and says “Done, I think,” and takes a bite of noodles.
“Thanks,” Kurt grins, “Here, I did your algebra for you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you made a mistake here, so I just,” Kurt shrugs, “corrected it.”
“Wow, thanks,” Blaine grins, “You saved me from a detention.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “The dashing and dapper Blaine Anderson in detention? I’d never believe it.”
Blaine blushes for some stupid reason and gathers up the bits and pieces of the first aid kit, smiling. “You’d be surprised.”
“I’m sure I would,” Kurt clears his throat, “Thank you for the food and the first aid.”
“No problem,” Blaine nods towards the cupboard right of his bed, “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
Kurt arches his eyebrow at Blaine. “Watch a movie or watch a movie?”
Blaine blinks. “Watch a movie? Do you want to watch something else, or?”
“No, I was -“ he waves his hand, “Never mind. Yes, I would love to watch a movie. I would also love to borrow a shirt.”
“Oh,” Blaine blushes harder, “Of course, yeah, sorry. Um, hold on a second,” he dumps the first aid kit on his desk and rummages through his dresser, eventually finding an old t-shirt that looks like it might fit Kurt.
“Here. It’s not really your style, but - um. Yes.”
“Thanks,” Kurt’s eyes are twinkling with amusement, “I owe you.”
Blaine grins bashfully and half-turns towards the movie cabinet. “What do you want to watch?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kurt taps his chin thoughtfully, “How about Casino Royale?”
Blaine laughs. “Of course.”
Kurt shifts sideways on the bed to make room for Blaine and pats the mattress. “Come on then, Casanova. Let’s get this movie evening started.”
Blaine tries not to let his stomach flip at the nickname.
**
20th May 2011
“Jeez, I’m tired,” Blaine yawns, flopping down face-first onto Kurt’s bed, “I’m so glad finals are over.”
“Mm,” Kurt says, sitting down next to him, “Hey, isn’t it your birthday, soon?”
“Yeah,” Blaine rubs his face against the comforter, “Four days.”
“What do you want?”
Turning his head, Blaine frowns at Kurt. “You don’t have to get me anything.”
“Yeah, well,” Kurt blushes and shrugs, “You’ve been, you know, great to me, so I figured. I should.”
“Aw, thank you,” he reaches out and squeezes Kurt’s hand and tries to stop his heart from yearning when Kurt squeezes back, “You’re the best friend ever.”
Kurt laughs and then gets up, picking up his laptop. “You wanna watch a movie? Take your mind off our crushing loss at Nationals?”
“Ugh, geez, don’t remind me,” Blaine rolls over and pulls a pillow over his face, “I nearly threw up in my mouth.”
“I know the feeling,” Kurt sighs, “Or rather, the taste.”
“Quick, put on Casino Royale before I get stuck in a flashback!” Blaine squirms upright and grins as Kurt slides the DVD into the drive and waits for it to load. “So, what do you want for your birthday?”
“A boyfriend,” Blaine jokes, “That would be awesome. Or free tickets to New York, to find a boyfriend so I’m not the only loner in the club.”
“Hey, I’m single,” Kurt says, and Blaine drags the mouse over to the play icon, “Yeah, but you’re not gay, so at least you have the potential to get a girlfriend. All I have is Trent, and that’d be like dating my brother, or something.”
“I can see why you might want to date Cooper,” Kurt says helpfully, and Blaine groans.
“Kurt.”
“What?”
“That is my brother.”
“He’s hot!” Kurt shrugs, and Blaine sighs. “I know. I know.”
“So embrace it,” Kurt drops his voice as the movie starts, “Ride off his glory! Use his attractiveness as a way to get guys?”
“Nah,” Blaine slumps down and sighs, “Who would want me over Cooper- I’m-an-amazing-journalist-from-Medill-and-I’m-so-perfect-Anderson?”
Kurt goes quiet. Blaine mumbles “Exactly,” and turns the volume up.
Casino Royale has sort of become their go-to movie. Blaine enjoys appreciating Daniel Craig’s washboard abs and British accent. Kurt appreciates the low-cut dresses and expensive cars. Occasionally, one of them will make a comment about the action, but it’s mostly just ogling their respective interests over cushions or bowls of popcorn.
Kurt pauses the movie just as Bond comes out of the ocean and Blaine whines and reaches forwards to press play again, mumbling “This is the best bit!”
“I need to tell you something,” Kurt says, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously, “And I need you to listen, because it’s important.”
“Okay,” Blaine knocks the lid of the laptop down regretfully, “I’m here.”
“So,” Kurt starts, “I thought that you knew, probably, I’ve been - hinting at it, for a while, because I knew it’s something you’d be able to - support me in. So.”
“Kurt,” Blaine says, “I will always support you. Even if you enjoy kicking puppies or something, I will support you. I promise.”
“Oh, god,” Kurt sighs, closes his eyes and curls his hands into fists. “Okay. I’m gay.”
Blaine’s voice gets stuck somewhere in his throat and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. “I - what?”
“Never mind,” Kurt says hurriedly, “It doesn’t matter, it’s - let’s just watch the movie, come on.”
“No, no, Kurt,” Blaine shuffles so Kurt can’t reach the laptop and grabs his hands, “It’s okay, you know that, right? It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt repeats, steadfastly avoiding eye contact, and Blaine does the best thing he can think of and hugs him.
Kurt goes stiff and startled under his arms at first, but then he relaxes and hugs back, breathing shakily against Blaine’s neck. Blaine squeezes him as tight as he can, trying to convey everything he can’t say into his touch. I care, it’s okay, it’s fine, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Kurt stays in his arms for a few more seconds and then moves back, smiling. “Thank you.”
Blaine just smiles. “I’m guessing you want me to keep mum?”
“Oh, god,” Kurt laughs, “Yes, please. I just. Not ready, you know?”
Blaine squeezes his hand. “I know.”
He shuffles back around so Kurt can hit play on the movie again, and this time they settle in pressed against each other, the laptop balanced on their knees. Hesitantly, Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and squeezes lightly. Kurt squeezes back.
Blaine’s too wrapped up in his thoughts to make his usual comment about how painful using stirrups with bare feet is. Instead, he wonders if he has a chance with Kurt.
He’s gay, at least, which is a step forwards, Blaine shivers a little, my god, he’s gay. I might actually have a chance. Possibly. Oh god, what if he likes me back? What if he wants to date me?
“Blaine, you know New York?”
Blaine unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and swallows, “Uh, not personally, but yeah.”
“You know what I mean,” Kurt swats his arm, “Well, I was thinking, you know, if I maybe got a mechanics job in New York or something -“
“Hey, no, don’t limit yourself,” Blaine knocks their shoulders together, “I’ve heard you sing, Kurt, and you’re amazing.”
“Shut up,” Kurt mumbles, blushing, “You’re missing the point. When I graduate, I’m thinking of moving out there.”
Blaine whistles. “Wow, that’s - wow. You’ll have to let me visit.”
“Well,” Kurt says, “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to live with me. When you graduate. If you went to New York.”
Blaine’s mouth falls open. “You’d - you’d want to live with me?”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Blaine, you’re like a flawless roommate. You cook, clean, don’t take ages in the shower...”
A pleasant little shiver runs through Blaine’s body. “I - wow. God, yes, I would love to live with you.”
“Good,” Kurt claps his hands and bounces a little on the spot, “That’s great. Wonderful, even.”
Blaine nods and grins. Four years of living with Kurt. “Absolutely fantastic, one might say.”
**
24th May 2011
“Could you explain why I’m about to lower myself into a sewer on my birthday? I thought I was going to get a present,” Blaine asks, and Kurt waves him forwards. “It’s fine, it doesn’t smell. Your present comes later.”
“Sure, it doesn’t smell,” Blaine grimaces as he lowers himself into the manhole, “Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
Kurt grins at him from behind the scarf wrapped around his face and Blaine pinches his nose. “I’m going to be sick.”
“No time for that.” Kurt helps him down from the ladder, “There’s tracking to be done.”
“Okay, you need to give me the whole story, I’m feeling very behind,” Blaine says, trying not to breath in. God, he can taste it in the back of his throat.”
“Basically, there’s been a bunch of petty crimes done by people who also have incredibly solid alibis,” Kurt explains, setting off down the tunnel, “Solid like being at a family dinner or school club or even caught on CCTV at least five or so miles from the scene of the crime, when the crime was being committed.”
“Petty crimes like what?” Blaine says, jogging to keep up with Kurt.
“Like holding up a corner shop, trashing a bar,” Kurt frowns, takes a left at the fork and marks their route with a piece of chalk. “But whoever’s doing it always disappears right into this alleyway, and there’s no way out apart from the sewers.
“Maybe there’s a secret passage?”
Kurt just raises an eyebrow and Blaine blushes. “Okay, sorry, stupid question.”
“You’d be surprised at how many supernatural creatures think that the sewers are a decent hiding place. It could be anything, really. Could be ghouls, sirens, anything.”
“But, you said ghouls had to feed on the flesh of someone to take their form.”
Kurt looks at him. “There is more than enough flesh on a human body to feed two ghouls, Blaine.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “Ew. Wait, how do I know I’m not a ghoul? You said they could download memories?”
“You’re not a ghoul,” Kurt grabs his hand and squeezes it, “Trust me.”
Blaine’s stomach twists and flutters warmly. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out as a sort of squeak.
“It’s not likely to be ghouls though, because they wouldn’t need to do any of the things they’ve been doing,” Kurt continues, “So it could be a Siren, but that’s risky and kind of a long shot, especially since they just take any pretty form and it’s basically never for anything but sex.”
“So it’s not a ghoul or a siren. What else could it be?”
“I don’t know,” Kurt says, “I really don’t.”
“Well,” Blaine grimaces as something pink and slimy gets stuck to his boot, “Can we go home, then?”
“Man up, Blaine, I just need to work out what it is,” Kurt smiles at him, “And then we can go.”
“Good,” Blaine says, “Because if we spend much longer here I don’t know if I’ll ever get the stink of sewer out of my clothes.”
“Tell me about it,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “I have thrown away so many good jackets because of impromptu sewer expeditions.”
Blaine scrapes his boot across the ground, trying to dislodge the slime. Kurt focuses his flashlight on the floor and hums under his breath, sweeping it back and forth as they walk. Blaine can’t help himself from turning around every now and again, shining his flashlight down the tunnel to check they’re not being followed.
“Blaine, I promise you, we’re going to be fine,” Kurt reaches back and takes his hand, “Swear on my life, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine jumps as something drips onto the path ahead of them, “Okay, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he squeezes Blaine’s hand tight and tugs him along gently, silhouetted by the light of his torch. Blaine swallows and takes a deep breath. Not gonna die, not gonna die, not gonna die.
“Jeez,” Kurt says after a while, “I think we’re done. No more trail, and I’m ti - whoa, Blaine, watch out!”
Blaine’s ankle turns and he slips, but Kurt grabs his jacket and hauls him up again, nearly dropping his flashlight. Blaine screws up his face and then yelps, pointing at the curved wall of the tunnel. “Is that skin?”
Kurt steadies Blaine with one hand and inches closer, squinting. Blaine shifts his feet and something crunches underneath them, and looking down he realises he’s standing on teeth.
“Kurt, this is weird,” Blaine shines his flashlight down the tunnel but there’s nothing there. Kurt’s not moving, he’s just standing there, staring at the disgusting mess on the wall. Blaine turns and shines his torch down the other end of the tunnel.
There’s a figure standing there.
Blaine screams and that seems to snap Kurt out of his trance - he grabs Blaine’s wrist and sets off running down the sewer, his flashlight forgotten on the floor. The footsteps follow inhumanly fast and Blaine can hear laughter, familiar laughter that he’d heard only a few weeks ago, collecting his books after someone had knocked them to the floor.
“Kurt -“
“Shh,” Kurt hisses, pulling him right so abruptly it feels like his shoulder is being wrenched from its socket. Blaine slips and scrambles upright again, glancing over his shoulder and nearly hitting the floor face-first at the sight of Karofsky pursuing them, grinning demonically and laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s completely naked and somehow that makes it scarier, being pursued through the sewers by his tormentor, who is buck-ass naked. Blaine almost laughs.
Suddenly there’s a series of gunshots and Kurt loses his balance, sending them both crashing to the floor. Karofsky lets out an inhuman screech and his footsteps fade again.
“Who are you?” Kurt shouts, and then he has his gun out too and Blaine is starting to feel very ill.
“Kid, calm,” someone steps out of the shadows - a man holding a camcorder in one hand and a handgun in the other, “We’re here to help.”
“Put the gun down,” another voice says, but this one is female. She’s holding a larger gun, still aimed down the tunnel, “We don’t need some kid with a gun thinking he can handle a shifter.”
“What’s a shifter?” Blaine asks, and all three of them shush him.
“Guys, guys, just chill, okay?” a third voice calls, “It’s gone back to the dark hole from whence it came, I checked. It’s gone.”
“I repeat,” Kurt snarls. “Who. Are. You?”
“Who’s the kid?” the third guy asks, and the woman shrugs.
“How the heck should I know?”
“The kid is Kurt Hummel,” Kurt pushes himself upright and moves in front of Blaine, training the gun at the first man, “Feel like returning the favour and telling me who you are?”
“Wait, Hummel? As in, Moloch-the-demon-killed-your-Mom Hummel? Look at how much you’ve grown, jeez, you were knee-high last I saw you at the Inn!”
“Wonderful,” Kurt says through gritted teeth, “Please tell me who the fuck you are?”
“Sure,” the first man shrugs, “I’m Matt, that’s Harriet, and this is Cam.” He points to the woman and the other man in turn.
“Hi,” Blaine says, still waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, “I’m Blaine, nice to meet you.”
“Hi, Blaine,” Harriet says, “How you doing?”
“Shush, B,” Kurt says, and Blaine feels a little thrill go through him at the nickname, “You’re not helping.”
“Let the guy talk,” Matt says, fiddling with the camcorder, and Blaine waves. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“God, Blaine, shut up!” Kurt yells, and Blaine recoils, hauling himself upright. “Kurt, I -“
Kurt shrugs off his hand and lets the gun fall, scrubbing his sleeve fiercely across his eyes.
“Kurt?” Blaine asks softly, “Are you okay?”
“I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Um, okay,” Cam looks at Matt, who looks at Harriet, who shrugs. “May as well.”
“Basically, there’s a shifter -“
“A shapeshifter?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. A shapeshifter. Anyway, there’s one knocking about over here, so we decided to head over here to get rid of it.”
“A shapeshifter,” Kurt repeats, and his face has gone so pale he looks like a ghost, “Are you certain?”
“Well, unless you know any other creature who can shed its skin and teeth like it’s their favourite thing to do, yes, I am certain.”
Kurt licks his lips and closes his eyes, sighing. “Okay, fine. We’ll let you get on your way.”
“What?” Matt asks, “You don’t want to help? I mean, I figure you know how to handle a shifter from the look on your face, so...”
“Matt!” Harriet hisses, looking furious. Matt shrugs. “What! Four heads are better than three.”
“Oh, so the short guy doesn’t count,” Blaine says dryly, rolling his eyes when nobody listen to him.
“I have schoolwork,” Kurt says coldly, “I’m sorry.”
“Kurt,” Blaine mutters, “School’s over.”
“Shut up.”
“Sorry.”
“Well, okay then,” Harriet glances at Cam, who nods. “Want a hand out?” he asks, shouldering his gun.
“Yes please!” Blaine says hastily, “That would be wonderful.”
Cam waves goodbye to the other two and sets off the opposite way they came, pulling a flashlight from his pocket. Kurt doesn’t move, so Blaine slips their hands together tentatively and tugs him along. Kurt’s palm is clammy and cold and he’s clutching his elbow with his spare hand, his shoulders slumped.
“So,” Blaine tries, “What brings you to Lima? Apart from, uh, the shapeshifter.”
Cam shrugs, “Not much. Just visiting an old friend.”
“Oh, who?” Blaine disentangles Kurt’s hand from his and wraps his arm around Kurt’s waist instead.
“Nobody in particular,” he shrugs and directs them to the right. Blaine squints - he thinks he can see a faint glint of light a way away. Kurt stumbles and Blaine squeezes his hip. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he mumbles through clenched teeth, “Absolutely dandy,” and pulls out of Blaine’s reach, folding his arms and straightening his back, tipping up his chin.
Blaine can’t really think of anything to say so he just tugs his sleeves down over his hands and follows quietly.
The first breath of fresh air is like a blessing and Blaine hauls himself out of the manhole, groaning at the stink that clings to his clothing. Kurt is talking softly to Cam, his shoulders hunched. Blaine peels his jacket off and holds it at arm’s length, grimacing. Cam pats Kurt on the shoulder and waves to Blaine, lowering himself back into the manhole.
“Okay?” Blaine asks softly, and Kurt shudders. “No. No, I don’t think I am.”
“Well, I can see why seeing Karofsky chasing you naked would freak anyone out,” Blaine grins, managing to tease a tiny smile from Kurt’s lips.
“We’ll steer away from the sewers this summer, huh?” he nudges against Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt sighs. “Yeah. I guess we will.”
**
25th May, 2011
The call comes just as Kurt is tearing his room apart for the fourth time, searching for his phone. Finn comes thundering down the stairs, yelling “It’s for you, it’s Blaine!” and Kurt snatches it from his hand and says in a relieved voice “Hey, sorry about not replying if you’ve been texting, my phone’s missing -“
“Kurt? Kurt, fuck, I messed up, I need you.”
Kurt stops, sits on his bed and puts his hand over his other ear, blocking out the music from the kitchen. “Blaine? Are you okay?”
“Oh, god, you called - but it wasn’t, it wasn’t you, and I - I went and now it’s after me -“
“Blaine? Sweetheart, you need to calm down. Blaine, calm down, you’re not making any sense. Blaine, breathe, okay? In and out. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You called me,” Blaine’s voice is soft and strained, as if he’s desperately trying not to make any noise, “But it wasn’t you, it was the - it was the shifter, and I went back to the sewer and now - Kurt, it’s playing with me, and I can’t get out, I’m lost and I don’t know what to do, it’s going to kill me.”
Dread coils tight in Kurt’s stomach and he feels like throwing up. “Blaine, listen to me. You’re going to be fine. I’m coming to get you, right now, okay? I’m coming to get you, and you’re going to be fine, but I need to you to calm down.”
He hears Blaine take a deep breath and then let it out shakily, crackling over the shaky connection. “Okay. Now, have you got a flashlight?”
“I turned it off.”
“Turn it back on, on the lowest setting. Okay, are you near a corner?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Go check, does it have a white arrow on it?”
“Um. Yes?”
Kurt sighs in relief. “Okay, that’s good. I’m going to get you out of there, Blaine. I need you to follow the arrows, okay? Just follow where they point and they’ll lead you back to the manhole we came in through last time. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Blaine, I’m going to go now, but I’ll be there soon, okay? I’ll be there waiting for you. I promise.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a moment, Kurt.”
“See you,” Kurt waits until Blaine puts the phone down and then jumps off the bed and takes the stairs two at a time.
He shoves through the mass of testosterone absorbing half-burned pizza and tugs on his boots, yelling “I might not be back!” and getting a half-grunted response from Finn. Just as he opens the door, the phone rings.
He fights his way back through the football team and picks up the house phone, slamming it against his ear.
Blaine’s voice says “Hey, Kurt, I just figured something out - can you meet me at the manhole? I might need a hand.”
“Sure,” Kurt says distractedly. It doesn’t make sense for Blaine to call again so soon after the first call, there’s no way he can have made his way back to the manhole yet, and Kurt’s mind is whirring. Gotta ask a question that the real Blaine would know the answer to, he thinks frantically, but it knows what he knows, what do I ask?
“Um, can I ask you a question? Just gotta check you’re not the thing, you know,” he laughs fakely.
“Oh, sure, go ahead. Hit me.”
“Okay,” he glances down at his clothes and asks, “What am I wearing today?” The real Blaine shouldn’t know this.
There’s silence for a moment and then not-Blaine says “Black jeans, a red striped Henley and suspenders?”
A smile curls his lips. “Now listen to me, you son of a bitch,” he says silkily, “You better leave him well alone, because I swear if there is one scratch on him when I find him I will skin you and cut out your heart before I saw off your head. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Blaine’s voice says, and the line goes dead.
Kurt slams the phone back down against the table, ignoring the shocked looks from the jocks standing around him and says “I’m going out now. Might not be back.”
“Uh, Kurt, are you -“
“I’m fine,” Kurt says, and walks out of the house.
The manhole is only a fifteen minute drive away, and he grabs his gun and his last pack of silver bullets before he gets out. As an afterthought, he takes the silver knife with the ebony handle too. Who knows if he’ll have to make good on that promise.
Two steps towards the manhole and someone’s calling out his name. Kurt barely stops, lets them follow him.
“Blaine’s in there,” he says tightly, “And it’s going after him.”
“It’s probably best if you leave this to the professionals,” Harriet says sharply, and Kurt loads the gun. “I’m plenty professional.”
“No offense, kid, but you look twelve.”
“I can handle a gun and a knife, and that’s all I need,” Kurt looks up and down the tunnel, hoping Blaine will magically appear. Apart from storming into the sewers with his gun and a scowl, he hasn’t really thought this through.
“Look,” Harriet continues, “We don’t know where he is, but we do know that the shifter is just toying with him. What it wants is us, or he’d be dead already. He’ll come to us.”
“I need to find him,” Kurt insists, “It’s my fault he got into this mess, I need to help him.”
“Kurt, you can’t -“
“I have to! You don’t get it. Just let me be.”
“Kurt -“
“Kurt!”
He spins on his heel and Blaine is right there, doubled over and panting with one hand against the wall for support. And then a figure looms up behind him.
“Behind you!” he yells like it’s some stupid pantomime, and then not-Blaine’s arm comes around Blaine’s throat and wrenches him upright.
Blaine chokes and lifts his hands to tug at not-Blaine’s forearm but he can’t budge it. Kurt shifts forwards to do something, but someone’s hand is on his wrist and they’re tugging him back as the shifter walks Blaine towards them, the glint of a knife at its side.
“Let him go,” Kurt says, his voice barely making a sound, “Please, just let him go.”
“What?” Blaine’s voice teases, “You’re not going to skin me and cut my heart out like you threatened?”
Kurt can feel his heart thumping in his chest and he just whispers “Please.”
“Kurt,” Blaine croaks, and Kurt just feels weak. He can’t do anything, he can’t save Blaine and he can’t kill the shifter and he can’t do a thing.
“Put him down, asshole,” Matt snarls, stepping past with his gun raised, “Or I’ll blow your head off.”
The shifter doesn’t reply, simply hauls Blaine up so any direct shot will have to go straight through Blaine, but Matt cocks his gun anyway.
Kurt yells “No!” and shoves him so the shot goes wild, ricocheting off the wall and making Blaine flinch violently. Harriet’s hands seize him from behind and pin his arms against his back as Matt recovers his balance, glaring at Kurt.
“You can’t shoot him!” Kurt whimpers when Harriet jerks his arms higher. Matt rolls his eyes and cocks the gun again. “There are casualties in every job, Kurt.”
“Blaine isn’t even a part of this job!”
“You got him into this,” he says coldly, and Kurt wrenches his arms free and punches him in the face.
Matt hits the ground and stumbles back to his feet, snarling “You little shit, the fuck do you think you’re doing -“
Chuckling echoes around the tunnel and they both freeze. The shifter throws his back and laughs, pulling Blaine off his feet so he flails for a purchase.
“Oh, you’re funny, both of you. There are casualties, aren’t there, Matt? You’d know.”
“Shut up,” Matt picks up his gun and aims it again, but his hands are unsteady, “Or I swear to god I will put a bullet through your forehead.”
“What was her name? Frankie? And you begged so hard for her to come with you...” the shifter shakes its head sadly, “Such a pretty girl, too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Matt,” Cam says, inching forwards, “Matt, put the gun down.”
“Still, she screamed so nicely for me,” it shrugs, “It was worth it. Especially for the look on your face, oh my god.”
“She was just a kid,” Matt says softly, “You didn’t have to kill her.”
“Excuse me? We kill people. That’s what we do.”
“You don’t tease them,” Harriet says, “And you sure as hell don’t torture them.”
“Who’s to say I’m the same as the others?” the shifter walks Blaine a little closer, and his face is red with lack of oxygen, “Who’s to say I don’t like to have a little fun?”
“Just put him down,” Cam says, “Please? He’s just a kid. He’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh yeah? He came waltzing into my sewers when I called him, and that makes it his business.”
“Please,” Kurt begs, “Please, it’s my fault, he just wanted to help, just let him be!”
Blaine’s face is borderline purple now, and he’s making soft choked off noises, his toes barely brushing the floor. Kurt lunges forwards, desperate to help, to do something, god if Blaine dies he’ll never forgive himself, never. He needs Blaine.
“Blaine,” he says, “Blaine, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and his throat is closing up and he swallows as all six of them stand there, watching each other, waiting for one to make a move. Matt’s statue-still beside him and Cam has a restraining hand on his arm and Harriet is just observing quietly, they have to do something¸ they can’t just let him die. But nobody will move, not until something big happens, and Kurt knows that’s going to be Blaine’s body going lifeless and weak in the shifter’s arms, and he just can’t let that happen but he doesn’t know what to do.
And then Blaine’s foot jerks back and up and the shifter’s face contorts in pain. Blaine twists and then he’s on the floor and the sound of gunfire tears up the tunnel.
The shifter sways, topples backwards with a grunt of pain, blood spreading in a pool around it. Kurt stumbles forwards, flicks off the safety on automatic. He walks right past Blaine and stands over the shifter. It stares dully at him with Blaine’s eyes, filled with an animalistic pain. Kurt raises the gun with shaking hands.
Do it. It’s not him. It’s not Blaine. It isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t. He casts a glance towards the real Blaine, slumped against the wall with his fingers against his throat.
He pulls the trigger.
The shifter jerks once and then Blaine’s features melt away into a shapeless mass, the waxy mess oozing over Kurt’s boots. He steps back, grimacing, and then Blaine says softly “Kurt?”
He drops the gun, whirls to kneel in front of Blaine. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“Know how I said I thought shapeshifters were fun?” he croaks, “I take it back. You were right, they’re not fun at all.”
Kurt grabs his hands and holds them tight. “Blaine, god, I’m so sorry, I - I’m so sorry, I should never have -“
“It’s okay,” Blaine rasps, and he gets his arms around Kurt’s shoulder and draws him in tight against his chest, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasps against Blaine’s shoulder, and Blaine strokes his hair and mumbles “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Kurt collects himself as quickly as he can, pushes himself back and helps Blaine to his feet. Cam is crouched over the shifter’s corpse, examining it carefully. Harriet is standing over them, looking tired. “You two okay?”
“You lied,” Kurt says, “You said you were just visiting but you weren’t. You’ve been following it.”
“Since DC,” she says. Cam calls “It’s dead.”
Blaine says, “Kurt, my ankle, can you -“ and grabs his shoulder for support. Kurt barely registers it. “You knew where it was, why didn’t you kill it?”
“We had to know,” she sighs, “That it was the right one.”
“The right one? And what if it wasn’t? Were you just going to let it kill people?”
“You don’t get it,” Matt snarls, “You don’t get what it’s like to lose someone important to you.”
“Oh really?” Kurt curls his hands into fists, he is furious now, “I’ve lost my mother, and then three years later I lost the closest thing I’d had to one for a while. I’ve seen my father in coma because of a failing heart and just now I saw Blaine in a chokehold because you are too fucking stupid to kill something evil just because you don’t know if it murdered your girl. You know, I figured that hunters did things just to rid the world of a bit more evil, not for petty revenge schemes.”
Blaine whispers “Kurt, can we just go home? Please?”
Kurt slips his arm around Blaine’s waist to hold him upright and turns his back on them, still fuming.
“You’re a hypocrite, Kurt,” Matt calls after him, “Petty revenge? Think about what you’ve been doing with the past ten years of your life.”
The fury is delicate now, too easily shattered into hysteria. Kurt keeps walking.