Warnings (if any):Ā um, nothing major than I can think of.Ā
Fic Summary:Ā After years of feeling lost, Blaine Anderson thought he'd finally found his path in life: one that would make his family proud while keeping him far away from a life of sin. But despite his best efforts to start anew, Blaine finds himself falling into the same morally reprehensible patterns as before. Seeking guidance, Blaine looks to God for help but never in a million years did he expect his prayers to be answered -- especially when his potential saviour stirs in him the very thing he had been trying so hard to escape.
Link to Art:Ā http://colfer-my-criss.tumblr.com/post/96554335893/the-lovely-elfinder-did-a-great-job-on-writing-a
Link to Fic on AO3:Ā http://archiveofourown.org/works/2249658/chapters/4936905
Art Thumbnail:
AuthorāsĀ Note:Ā This story came about when I took on a prompt as a pitch hitter for the Klaine Reverse Bang challenge. It turned out to be quite an interesting challenge, as I've never written a fic involving religion before. I had a lot of fun collaborating with the artist, colfer-my-criss, who gave me feedback on the story as I developed it! Big thanks to my beta for this story too, and getting it editing in such a timely fashion.
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Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper's total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn't sure exactly why, but he's drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.
(Mention of a character death that happened in the past.)
AUTHOR NOTES***
I am posting this story late because I had it completed (at more than 30,000 words) and while transferring it to a new computer, the file became corrupted, and no matter what I did, it couldn't be recovered. It killed me especially because freakingpotter did such an incredible job with the art that it deserved to be posted with a completed fic. But I couldn't sit on these beautiful drawings any longer. So I am posting this as a WIP while I retype all the chapters from memory. In the meantime, oogle over this amazing art, and make sure to heap freakingpotter with tons of praise for being such an amazing artist, and such a supportive person. She was such a joy to work with. I absolutely dedicate this story to her <3
Posting my art again for my second writer Elfinder. Additionally I made a cover for her fantastic - and very sexy - story VioloncelloĀ , that you all NEED to read.
It's been a great pleasure to witness how it was written from the concept to the polished version - thank you, Elfinder, for for such a lovely time spent together on this!
I made the first art for Klaine Reverse Bang 2014. I was inspired with a movie "Pacific Rim", I think this is a perfect Klaine story :) My assigned author for this art had a terrible misfortune, so for now there is no story.
Summary:Ā While taking a detour on his way home from work, Kurt comes across a music box in the window of an antiques shop and feels compelled to take a closer look.
I was very excited to write for such interesting and stunning art for this yearās reverse bang. keepwaitingorstartwalking did such a fabulous job!Ā
Thanks to Emily for beta reading! <3Ā
Can also be read on AO3.Ā
Art post is here.
Part One
Itās not quite raining, but the air is thick with moisture and Kurt feels damp all over. His face is clammy and his clothes beaded as though abandoned outside all night to be covered in dew. Heās chilled to the bone and wants nothing more than to curl up in his comfiest pyjamas with a hot drink and a magazine. He rushes past shops and people, jumping over a puddle left from the day before. There is a crowd formed on the corner exactly where he usually crosses the street, so he rolls his eyes and shoulders on past and down to the next crossing.
In the window amongst old dolls and tin signs and a mishmash of other junk, sits a music box. Itās lovely: rounded, about the size of a fortune tellerās crystal ball, glass and metal filigree and porcelain with a tiny man on top, seated at a grand piano. His clothes are bright and cheery, but his face looks sad. Kurt leans in to get a better look at him when a bike courier drives by and splashes day-old rainwater and mud all over his pants. āHey!ā Kurt yells after him, but he just rides on. Kurt hitches up his bag and stomps away toward the train station, cursing under his breath about bikers on the sidewalk.
Later that night after heās had a hot shower and some soup and tea, he remembers the pretty music box. He almost feels panicked at the thought of it, at the thought of it being gone, and he resolves to go back and take a better look at it the next day after work. Ah, work⦠Kurt sighs and grabs his bag, searching inside for the sheet music.
During the night he dreams of mist, deep and grey and nearly impenetrable, and wakes with a longing the likes of which he has never felt.
~*~*~*~
It really is raining the next day, and Kurt is forced to buy a cheap umbrella from one of the vendors who pop out of the woodwork whenever the drops begin to fall. Heād forgotten his own umbrella that morning in his rush to leave his apartment in time to catch the train, and is seconds away from being caught in a downpour when he spots a man with a box of umbrellas. He shoves the five dollars at him, even though he probably could have talked him down in price, pops it open and hides underneath. Heās careful to keep it high enough as not to knock into the one of the rainbow of similar umbrellas all around him, a sea of nylon arches protecting the sidewalk.
He barely speaks a word all day. He shows Mae his progress on the rewrite and cloisters himself in the music room, only coming out to buy a coffee from the small shop just outside. They know his order and he smiles his thank you, and feels his voice shrivel inside his throat. Sometimes he wonders if it is possible to go mute from lack of speaking; if he will awake one day and forget how to form words at all. He vows to call his father that night, or to try again to meet Rachel for coffee, and he hurries back through the rain.
After work he passes by his usual crosswalk again and hurries through the rain past the brightly coloured flowers of the bodega and stops outside of the antiques shop. One of the gutters above the storefront is cracked and water streams down, pooling in the warn, striped awning overhead and running steadily over the window. Through the rain streaks Kurt can still make out the soft, blurred shape of the music box and he rushes to open the door, wondering why his hands are shaking so violently.
A bell jingles happily when he steps inside, a dank, musty smell clogging his nose and dust motes swirling in the beams of the many lamps that are lit around the cluttered shop. Kurt doesnāt spare any of the other curios a glance, but turns and takes three long strides to the window.
He stares at it for a moment, lit by the muted light of the dull, rainy day. It looks more substantial at close range, more real. Kurt stares at the sad face of the piano man and feels his heart twist. The strange longing it brings about makes him pause, but when he hears footsteps close behind he snatches up the music box and holds it against his chest.
"Youāve taken a liking to that, have you?" Kurt swings around to see a tiny old lady looking up at him with a smile. Sheās missing several teeth and the shawl around her neck is tattered and faded.
Kurt nods vaguely and looks down at the music box, loosening his grip somewhat and holding it away from his chest so he doesnāt look like a crazy person. āHow much is it?ā he asks, his voice quavering a little. He clears his throat, the sound turning into a high pitched whimper when the lady reaches out and pries the music box from his hands. He flickers his fingers about his mouth to stop any further embarrassing sounds from emerging and shoves his other hand in his pocket.
He hopes she doesnāt want a lot for it because heās already spent his monthās allotment of fun money on a gorgeous cashmere scarf that heād found online for a steal. But there is always the emergency credit card⦠This is not an emergency, he tells himself. Although it feels like one to his banging heart and the horrible waves of anxiety breaking in his stomach as the old lady examines the music box, poking at the metal framework and running calloused fingers over the beautiful piano player.
āIāll take it!ā Kurt exclaims. He can no longer keep quiet and allow her to molest him. It. Even though sheās sure to ask a higher price now that she knows how desperately he wants it. But he just feelsā¦compelled. Like the thing is luring him in; like itās producing some sort of magic gas thatās attracting Kurt to it.
He stretches out his hands, fingertips gently caressing the glass side and the lady gives him the once over. She nods swiftly and pulls the music box away from his reaching grasp. āSeventy-five dollars,ā she says, her eyes challenging. She probably wants him to barter with her, but he canāt bring himself to do it. He needs the music box back in his hands. He feels like she may damage it somehow if she holds onto it any longer.
āFine,ā he replies, and he rummages around in his wallet for the emergency credit card while he follows her to the back of the shop.
~*~*~*~
Back in his apartment, Kurt sets the music box down gently on the table before removing his jacket. He takes two steps towards the kitchen before turning back, eyes finding the tiny man with his smart, colourful suit and sad eyes. āLetās see what it is you play,ā Kurtās says into the empty room.
He finds the winder on the bottom and turns it until it will no longer move. The music that rings out when he lets go it lovely and delicate. Itās familiar to him, but he canāt seem to place itāa melancholy, haunting piece that has him swallowing deeply and blinking back moisture.
"You play it so well," he tells the piano man, laughing at himself as he steps into the kitchen to make himself dinner. As heās chopping vegetables and measuring rice, he hums the half-remembered melody, vague ideas of lyrics beginning to piece together in his head.
The music box sits next to him as he goes over his work that evening, fighting with a few bars that just donāt seem to fit, and he gives it one parting glance before turning out the lights and heading to bed.
~*~*~*~
While Kurt sleeps, the music he is composing for work bends and twists and reshapes itself into the haunting melody of the music box and he is lost in mist and shadows. Everything is echoing, muffled, but in the distance he can hear a voice speaking rapidly and without pausing for breath. He breathes for this phantom, this disembodied soul, deeply and steadily as if he could share the burden, but his help turns into hindrance when the voice shushes him and yells his name as the thick, sticky mist gets caught in his throat.
He wakes up coughing and later when heās brushing his teeth, he spits up foam that is grey like ash and thinks that perhaps he is losing his mind.
~*~*~*~
The next day is unbearable. The rain has left behind an oppressive heaviness in the air, like it wasnāt quite finished and will be back to carry on when it is good and ready. Kurt mops his brow with a handkerchief, sighing as he rucks his bagās strap further up his shoulder. Heād given up his seat to an extremely pregnant woman and now heās swaying back and forth as the train trundles on. He blinks hugely. He thinks he could probably fall asleep standing up as he is, what with the broken and unsatisfying rest of the night still making him fuzzy around the edges.
He has finished polishing the final composition for the first act by ten oāclock, and takes it down to Mae. āWhat was that you were humming, Kurt?ā she asks as heās leaving her room. āIt didnāt sound like something from the show.ā
Kurt pauses, fingers clasping the doorframe. He hadnāt even realized. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at her. āOh, no itāsāā
She winks. āSomething just for you, I think. Keep your secrets.ā
Kurt laughs and closes the door behind him. His work is often quiet and lonely, but composing with Mae over the past few months has been better than most of his other jobs.
When he gets back to the piano in the music room, he finds some fresh paper and sets his fingers on the keys, a pencil between his teeth. Heās made enough progress on the show, he decides, and starts trying to play the music in his head instead.
He has a few passages figured out and has even written lyrics to accompany them by the time the clock ticks over to three. He calls it a day. His eyes are heavy and he is of no use as he is, so he promises to work on some melodies at home and packs up his things.
The music box is still sitting on the table where he left it when he tosses his bag on a chair. He slides down next to it and winds it up, and watches the piano player as the music begins. He knows he must be imagining things, but the painted on eyes seem less glum, the mouth holding more of an uptilt than it previously had. But of course he is wrong. Maybe Kurt himself is just in a better mood and seeing through different eyes.
~*~*~*~
His dreams are more of the same, more mist and smoke and confusion. He hears the voice in brighter clarity this time, and when he wakes, sneezing and eyes streaming, there is a name on his lips. And heās not sure how it got there.
~*~*~*~
āGood morning, my little piano man,ā Kurt says over a yawn as he ambles by the table and into the kitchen to make some coffee. As he sets it percolating, he remembers and leans against the counter, his face drawn in confusion. Itās there, along with the memory of darkness and heavy mist. āBlaine,ā he whispers. Then shakes his head and reaches for the cereal.
~*~*~*~
The little piano man, Blaine, really looks as though heās smiling when Kurt returns from work.
āWhy do I feel like thatās your name?ā Kurt asks him, running his fingertips over the top of his head and down his arms to the miniature black and white keys of the piano. āWell, it suits you, I suppose,ā he muses. āAs does your suit. Very dapper.ā Kurt laughs at himself and picks at the hinge of the music box, half closing the glass dome that rests over Blaine. He brings it down over top of him for a moment, but then feels a stab of guilt at the creek and the click of the lid closing and hastily lifts it once again. āSorry about that. I wouldnāt want to be trapped in there; it would be a little claustrophobic.ā
āGod,ā Kurt says with a sigh, pulling off his jacket and setting his sheet music down on the table. āI really need a boyfriend. This is pathetic.ā
~*~*~*~
It sounds like thunder in Kurtās dream that night, the ear-splitting crashes blocking out the desperate cries of the dream-voice. āPlease, Kurt!ā he hears through the storm. āSave me, please! You must. You must. The songāā
There is a flash of heat as the racket swallows up the pleading voice. Kurt feels as though he is drowning, but in a substance both hot and sticky. He prays for water, but he canāt even manage tears.
āThe song!ā the dream-voice says again, far-off and muffled. There is one last loud bang and Kurt awakens. Outside his window, the thunder crashes and the sky is lit up with lightning. The storm is close. Kurt lifts one shaky hand and wipes at his damp cheeks.
After a moment of hesitation he slides off the bed and pads out of his room. The music box is sitting where he left it, innocuous, stationary, but he feels a stab of panic at the sight of it. He closes the lid and takes it inside, hiding it at the very back of his closet before climbing under the protective warmth of his covers.
~*~*~*~
At work that day, Kurt sets aside the sheet music for the second actās opening number and finishes writing down what he remembers of the music box melody.
~*~*~*~
He stops at the bodega next to the antiques shop on his way home, picking up some fresh vegetables and a bouquet of bright orange gerbera daisies. Heās sniffing them as he walks by the antiques shop when something strange catches the corner of his eye, stopping him in his tracks. He must have seen wrong. He shakes his head and lowers the flowers before turning abruptly, much to the annoyance of the man behind him. But his eyes had not betrayed him. The shop is empty, its dirt-streaked window full of nothing, and no sign of the peeling letters that had been affixed to the glass. Surely if the shop had closed down in the past few days since he had purchased the music box, there would be some indication that the letters had been there. Some left behind traces of paint or gumminess. And the window is not clean enough to have been freshly scrubbed. Kurt takes two steps towards it and peers inside. It is empty. Abandoned. Nothing but dust and cobwebs living in a derelict shell. It looks as though it has been that way for years.
He rushes home and immediately logs on to his bank and checks his credit card purchases. There is no sign of the seventy-five dollar charge for the music box anywhere.
~*~*~*~
That night, Kurt doesnāt dream and wakes up with guilt piercing his insides. He walks into his closet on shaky feet and unearths the hidden music box. And when he opens the lid, the piano man has the old, despondent look about his sweet, painted features.
āBlaine,ā Kurt whispers, and sets him down on his nightstand.
~*~*~*~
On Saturday, Kurt puts the finishing touches on the song, winding up the music box to follow along with the notes on his sheet music. The voice had been silent in his misty dream the night before, but he felt the closeness of a presence nearby and the memory of his pleas would not leave Kurtās head.
āIt seems I have a very good memory, donāt I, Blaine? Except for the part where I canāt remember where Iāve heard this music before.ā He looks down at the top of the shiny black hair and sighs. āI suppose I should get dressed or do something productive today. Maybe Rachelās free for lunch.ā
Kurt winds up the music box one more time, smiling down at Blaineās handsome little face before slipping out of bed to find an outfit to wear. He begins singing along quietly, the lyrics heād been adding to the melody taking shape as he utters them aloud for the first time.
Heās two steps into his closet and letting his voice ring out on the final note when he hears an ear-splitting crack and a thump and the delicate shattering of glass against the hardwood floor. The music box. He lets out a strangled cry and pitches himself out of the closet.
But the smashed music box is the last thing to catch his notice, because there, lying on his bed, is a fully grown Blaine, blinking up at him with wide eyes, perfect lips drawn in a surprised āOā. āKurt?ā he whispers, and Kurt feels his vision swim as he collapses.
~*~*~*~
Part Two
āPlease wake up,ā a soft voice is pleading. Kurt feels dampness, a methodic sweeping of a wet cloth over his face. Across the forehead, down the right cheek, over the chin, up the left cheekāover and over until he blinks his eyes open.
And if Kurt was hallucinating before he fainted, well, he still is, because above him is Blaine looking down with the most tender expression of genuine worry that Kurt has ever seen.
He forces himself upright, unintentionally knocking Blaineās gentle hand from his face. He blinks in confusion at his nightstand, where his Brita water pitcher and a large mixing bowl are sitting. Blaine drops the washcloth into the bowl and pours a stream of the cold, filtered water on top of it. Okay, so maybe Kurt is still hallucinating after all.
āWhat are youāā he begins, then shakes his head when Blaine reaches into the mixing bowl to pick up the cloth and wring it out.
āThese are strange belongings you have,ā Blaine says. His voice holds a sweet hesitation that Kurt finds immediately endearing. āI have never seen such a water pitcher. It is so light, and you can see clear through it!ā
āUm, itās for filtering the tap water so it doesnāt taste like chemicals,ā Kurt says. As Blaine furrows his thick eyebrows, Kurt begins to think this may very well be the strangest conversation he has ever had.
Blaine turns his body slightly and lifts the pitcher into the air, studying the way the light of the sun through the window makes the water glow. āI have never heard of such a thing,ā he says in confusion. āHow very strange.ā He runs his thumb over the handle as he sets the pitcher back down on the tabletop. āWhat is this transparent material?ā
āUmā¦plastic.ā Okay, so nevermind the part where he grew to full size out of a damn music box, Kurt is finding Blaine to be the slightest bit odd, and no matter how at ease he feels in his presence, he begins to think that maybe he really ought not to be. Because Blaine seems a littleā¦
āPlastic? I do not know what you mean.ā
Kurt pulls himself the rest of the way into sitting and slides back against the headboard of his bed. āPlastic is kind ofā¦everywhere. I mean, itās the cheapest type of material these days. God, you can buy a plastic anything at a dollar store.ā
Blaine scrunches up his nose. āYou speak so strangely, Kurt. And I admit that I am very confused by all of the possessions that decorate your living space.ā He reaches in behind the mixing bowl and pulls out Kurtās phone. āFor example, this. What the dickens is this? It keeps making odd sounds and lighting up from within. And the strangest thing, someoneās portrait appears in a little window.ā
āThatās my cellphone.ā When Blaine only stares at him blankly, Kurt leans forward and clarifies. āMy telephone.ā
Blaine stares down at it, pulling back slightly when Kurt reaches out to take it from his hand. āA telephone? Telegraph do you mean? But, people do not have telegraphs in their homes. And they are not such as this. What madness!ā
āOh my god.ā
Blaine looks stunned at Kurtās words and crosses himself, looking behind him as if Kurt must have seen something startling.
āBlaine, when are you from?ā
āWhat do you mean? I was cursed. You broke the spell. I did not wish to bring it up, as you were so overcome when first you saw me, but I am very grateful to you. I have been trapped and petrified that I should be so forevermore.ā
āWhat do you mean, cursed?ā Kurt holds up his hands, shaking his head when Blaine opens his mouth to speak. They can get to that in due time. āFirst things first: what year were you born? What year were youā¦cursed?ā
āThe twelfth of March, eighteen-o-two. And I was cursed⦠A day in JuneāI cannot recall whichāeighteen-twenty-two.ā
āOh my god,ā Kurt says again.
Blaineās eyes go wide and he looks back over his shoulder once more. āWhy do you keep saying that?ā he whispers.
āItās just an expression,ā Kurt tells him. āAnyway, come on. I think I need to show you something.ā Blaine steps back to allow Kurt to rise from the bed, averting his eyes as he does so, his pretty dark lashes batting against the tops of his cheekbones. His face looks warm, and when Kurt feels the cool air from a nearby vent blow across his bare legs, he realizes why.
āIāll just, um, go finish getting dressed,ā he mutters quickly, then takes three long strides to the closet and ducks inside.
~*~*~*~
The view from Kurtās bedroom window is nothing but a back alley, and it is obvious that while Blaine was searching for implements with which to help Kurt after heād fainted, he hadnāt stopped to peek out of the larger window in the living room. Because now, after Kurt has led him to it, heās watching the traffic and the lights and the crowds of people with wide, frightened eyes.
āWhat happened to the city?ā he asks quietly, his voice tremulous.
Kurt places a kind hand on his shoulder. āTime happened. Itās the year two-thousand-and-eighteen, Blaine. Iām so sorry, but you were trapped in that music box for almost two hundred years.ā
Blaineās face goes chalky, his body shaking under the steadiness of Kurtās hand. āBut whatever shall I do? I do notāI cannotāā
Kurt shushes him and wraps an arm around his waist, coaxing him away from the view that is so affecting him and bringing him to sit down on the sofa. āItāll be okay. I promise. I wonāt let anything happen to you.ā
He lets his hand run up and down on instinct, soothing Blaine with the power of touch. Blaine is leaning into him now, and where perhaps he ought to feel strangeāand truthfully, that is how Kurt feels when being touched by most peopleāhe feels quite comfortable.
āWe could go out and see more, if youād like to. This is a pretty dreary part of town. I can take you to see so many amazing things, Blaine. And your outfit is surprisingly in styleāthey are always recycling fashions. If I took up the length of your dinner jacket, youād be a near match for the Marc Jacobs menās line from the fall.ā
Blaineās large eyes blink up at him. āThis? But it is only a performance uniform. Imagine such colours in the everyday.ā
Kurt laughs. āOh, wait and see. We could maybe go shopping and get you a few more outfits. I have some things that I could alter to fit you.ā
Blaine smiles and Kurt feels his heart flutter like birdās wings in his chest. He really is the most beautiful man. āYou are too kind,ā Blaine says. āWhatever would I do if you were not here with me? Although, I suppose, if you were not I would still be trapped. Cursed to forever play a song without words. Thatās the last thing he said.ā Blaine voice goes quiet, quavering along with the hands he has pressed in his lap. āā¦before it happened.ā
āAbout thatā¦ā Kurt isnāt really sure what to believe. Curses and magic just arenāt real, but how can he even argue them when Blaine was once a figurine seated at a miniature piano on the top of a music box, and now he is fully grown and human and warming Kurtās side with his own. āI donāt understand what happened exactly. I mean, thatās the understatement of the century, but do you think maybe you could explain?ā
Blaine hesitates for a second, his eyes flickering back towards the window and the tall buildings outside in a world he no longer knows. āEverything is so strange,ā he says. āI have often wondered if I live entirely in a dream.ā
āI know the feeling.ā
Blaine laughs, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. āYes, I suppose you do. My presence here is not helping with that I fear. But alas, what I have to tell you is godās honest truth, as I remember it.ā He turns to Kurt with a pleading expression and Kurt nods his reassurance. For good measure, he reaches out and takes hold of Blaineās hand and gives it a squeeze.
āI was working at a dinner party, playing piano for the guests. I was a hired musician and doing quite well, due to the patronage of a lovely woman who took a liking to me when I was a boy. This particular party was to celebrate the return of her brother from abroad. At the party, a young girl took a liking to me and spent the majority of the evening sitting in a chair she had pulled up near the piano and watching me.
āIt made me a little uncomfortable, but I attempted to smile and be pleasant nonetheless. After the party when I was gathering up my sheet music and preparing to go, a man approached me. He told me with no hint of propriety that even though I was below him in station, his only daughter had taken a fancy to me and would like to marry me. And that he was rich enough to keep us well.ā
āAnd youā¦?ā
Blaine shakes his head. āI said no. His face turned very colourful in his anger, nearly purple, and he began cursing me in a language that I had never heard before. And then, well, you know the rest.ā
āSo you got turned into a music box because you rejected a marriage proposal from a girlās father?ā
āI realize how mad that must sound, but yes. āTo sing a song without words,ā heād said. And when I heard you humming along to the music, I figured out the riddle at last.ā
Kurt turns on the sofa and pulls his legs up, tucking his feet up under him and facing Blaine. Itās like something out of a Disney movie and he just doesnāt get it. āBecause I gave the song words.ā Blaine nods his head and smiles. āBut still thoughāhow? I get that he cursed you or whatever, but how? Things like that donāt just happen. Itās impossible.ā
āI donāt know. Perhaps I was being punished by God and he was only acting through the man.ā
Blaineās eyes tear up as he says the words, his voice wobbling. The last thing Kurt wants is to upset him further when he must be shocked enough as it is. So he nods and pats Blaineās arm and says he will fix them some tea. Kurt doesnāt believe in god, and he certainly has never believed in actual magicāat least not outside of the confines of a Broadway stageābut Blaineās presence is proof of something. Whether or not he will ever discover what exactly remains to be seen.
As heās boiling the kettle and getting the teapot ready, he thinks about Blaineās refusal and all of the period films he had watched with Rachel in their dingy apartment in Bushwick. Why would a man of little money refuse to be married to a rich woman? People used to marry for money all the time as far as he knows, not that people still donāt do it now.
āBlaine?ā he asks as he pours the hot water into the teapot. He sets it on a tray with two cups as well as cream, honey and sugar, and steps back into the living area. Blaine is watching him intently with his wide, golden eyes. Kurt gets the sudden urge to reach out and stroke his face and has to quash it. He shakes his head to clear it of the thought and sets the tray down on the coffee table. āWhy did you not want to marry the manās daughter?ā
Blaine seems flustered by Kurtās stare, so Kurt looks away and pours the aromatic, amber liquid into the two mismatched mugs. He hands one to Blaine, who adds a spoonful of sugar with a nod of thanks. His face looks flushed again, his eyes furtive as he glances towards the front door and then the window.
āIāIt was not due to any failings on her part; she was a perfectly lovely girl, you must understand. But it did not seem fair that I should marry her when I did notāwhen I could not ever love her. Or any woman.ā
Kurt stops with his tea cup halfway to his lips and stares. Oh. Well that wasā āBlaine, do you meanā Is it because you have feelings for men?ā
Blaineās eyes bug out and he fumbles his tea, hissing when a hot drop lands on the side of his hand. He sets the cup hastily on the tray and looks up at Kurt, imploring. āPlease, you mustnāt tell! I could be executed! I have never done anything. I tried to make it go away, but I just feelāā
Kurt rests both hands on Blaineās shoulders and shushes him. āBlaine, Blaine, itās okay. Itās all right, I promise. No one is going toā¦execute you. Oh my god, I canāt believe thatās a thing I have toāā Kurt shakes his head and meets Blaineās eyes, making his own as soft as possible. āThings arenāt perfect, but itās not that bad. We can even marry each other now. I mean, as two men. That is, two men can get married.ā
Kurt feels his cheeks grow warm as he bumbles through the reassurances, but Blaine doesnāt seem to notice. āTo each other?ā he asks in awe.
āYes.ā
āButā¦does that mean they are allowed toāto kiss and hold hands andā¦share a bed without anyāā
āExecutions. Yeah, none of those. Not here. Some places in the worldā¦but things are better here.ā
Blaine nods and reaches for his tea once more. He takes two slow sips; he looks like heās debating with himself. Kurt tries not to smile when he nods his head with determination and catches Kurtās eye. āKurt, I got the impression from your words that possiblyāDo you share the same kind ofā¦feelings as I do?ā
Kurt smiles and tilts his head to one side. āThese days we call it being gay. And yes, I am gay, too. With me itās fairly obvious. Canāt you tell?ā
Blaineās eyebrows furrow and he stares down into his teacup. āNo,ā he says quietly. He looks back up and almost seems apologetic. āShould I be able to?ā
āNo, I suppose not,ā Kurt says with a laugh.
Blaine smiles vaguely and takes another sip of his tea. Itās quiet for a moment, and Kurt wishes he had thought to get them something to snack on so he would have something else to do with his hands.
āKurt, would it be all right if I asked you a question? I apologize in advance if it is too forward, or too inappropriate, but I am confused and you seem very worldly, and although we have only just met in an official capacity, I feel as though I have known you for some time and you put me very much at ease.ā
Kurt smiles and leans forward, cupping one hand around Blaineās knee. āOf course. You can ask me anything.ā
āItās only thatāI do not truly understand theā¦intimacies that men share. Together. And how can I crave something that I do not comprehend?ā
And that nearly makes Kurt choke on his tea. āYou mean you want me to tell you about sex with men?ā
Blaine worries his bottom lip between his teeth and nods slightly.
āWell, thereāsāand I am in no way an expert or anythingābut, like, you can use hands? Like you do to yourself but on each other?ā Kurt swallows his discomfort as he looks at Blaine, whose eyes are fixed on him in rapt attention. āOrā¦mouths.ā The word comes out like a croak and Kurt has to swallow again. He doesnāt miss the way Blaine watches his throat bob.
āDownā¦ā Blaine begins. He too swallows deeply when Kurt nods. āOh,ā he breathes out. āThat is not something I had ever considered.ā
āAnd then, um, the only thing I have everāI mean, you can sort of just rub against each other while kissing and stuff?ā
āLying down in bed?ā
Kurt shrugs and studies his hands. āOr standing up or anywhere, really. Justā¦that. And then thereās, um, penetration, which some people donātāYou donāt have to do any of those things.ā
āYou mean sodomy. Thatās a sin.ā
Kurt sighs and looks back up at Blaine. āThatās not a very nice word, and honestly mostly only protesters use it these days. And itās not a sin, Blaine. Itās just another way for people toā¦connect. But like I said, itās not necessary, and lots of men donāt even do it.ā
āBut what if I would like to do it?ā
āWell that would be, umā¦that would be your choice. A choice to make with your partner. Iām not a font of information here, sorry. Iāve never done it before, soāā
āOf course you havenāt,ā Blaine says, his head tilted to one side. āYou are unmarried.ā
Kurt laughs and takes Blaineās empty cup, setting it next to his on the tray and rising from the sofa to take it back into the kitchen. āAdorable,ā he says under his breath. āYou know, if you want to get cleaned up and changed, we can maybe go out? I can take you on a tour and out to eat?ā
āIf you would like to.ā
He rinses out the cups with a sigh and walks back over to the sofa where Blaine is still seated. āOnly if youāll feel comfortable, Blaine. I know all of thisāā He motions to the world around them. āāis a lot to take in. If you want to just hide in here for today, we can look at stuff online or something. Maybe watch a movie. Ooh, Pride and Prejudice. You can tell me how accurate it is and we can ogle Colin Firth in that see-through shirt! Though, I suppose thatās a little before your timeā¦ā
Kurt trails off when he notices the look of utter confusion and mild panic on Blaineās face.
āRight, many confusing things in what I just said. How about I show you how to use the shower and get you something comfortable to wear and then we learn all about the twenty-first century, okay? Itāll be a piece of cake in no time, I promise.ā
āWe are going to have cake?ā
āWhat? No. Another expression. Just, um, follow me.ā God, he keeps screwing up and Blaine is so confused. Heās never been good at the whole teaching thing. When heād volunteered at that theatre workshop when he was going to NYADA heād spent most of the time wanting to scream at the little kids, let alone their parents.
Blaine follows along after him to the small bathroom, where Kurt finds him a fluffy towel and teaches him how to turn on the shower and adjust the temperature. He seems amazed by the water streaming out, turning it off and on and warm to cold several times until Kurt has to interrupt to show him his products. Blaineās smile grows wide at the delicious scent of Kurtās shampoo and laughs at the bright purple shower sponge. āMarvelous,ā he keeps repeating, and Kurt is loath to leave him alone to get undressed. He doesnāt want to miss out on any of his adorably wide-eyed fascination.
But itās only a few moments before Blaine is calling Kurtās name loudly and Kurt rushes back into the bathroom. āBlaine, whatās wrong?ā
āNothing, Kurt! This is the most amazing thing I have ever felt!ā he says. āThe water is just falling from thisā¦ā But Kurt doesnāt hear the rest of Blaineās raptures. He hadnāt meant to look, really, and it isnāt his fault that the shower curtain is completely transparent. Well, it is, seeing as how he bought it, but he didnāt buy it for this specific purpose. He had just wanted to let a little more light in, not let all of Blaine out. But he can seeā¦all of Blaine. All. āOh my god.ā
Blaine sticks his head out of the shower. āKurt? What is the matter?ā
And the crack in the curtain gives Kurt an even better view of Blaineās, er, assets. He covers his eyes and leans back against the wall that separates the shower from the toilet. āOh god youāre beautiful.ā He claps a hand over his mouth. When will he ever learn to shut his trap?
There is a moment of nothing but the sound of water pounding against porcelain and steam filling the room, and then Blaine says, nearly in a whisper, āYou find me beautiful?ā
Kurt rolls his head to the side until he can see Blaineās face, the beads of water precarious in his eyelashes. He nods and Blaine blinks, dislodging a drop so that it cascades down his cheek and drips onto his chest. Kurt swallows.
āI find you beautiful, too,ā Blaine says. āThe most beautiful person I have ever before seen.ā
Kurt watches as Blaineās eyes flicker from Kurtās own down to his mouth and back up again. His pink tongue pokes out to lick a drop of water from his lip. āBlaiāā
āPlease kiss me.ā
Kurt doesnāt know if this is the best idea, but heās leaning forward. āAre youāā
Blaineās open mouth landing on his answers the question that he never got to finish asking. For someone so innocent, Blaine sure seems to know what heās doing.
Wet fingers dig into Kurtās hair as Blaineās open mouth presses and sucks and Kurt canāt stand it, canāt wait any longer. He slides his tongue forward and licks inside of Blaineās mouth and his whole body throbs at Blaineās responding moan. Blaineās hands are tugging Kurt forward and the room is getting so unbelievably hot, the air thick and hanging around them. Kurt can hear the water of the shower pounding down against the porcelain still as Blaine tries to pull him behind the curtain.
Blaineās eyes are pleading when he detaches their mouths. He doesnāt let go of Kurtās hair.
"Okay," Kurt gasps, and leans in for another quick, open-mouthed kiss. "Okay."
Blaine massages Kurtās scalp as Kurt shucks off his clothesāhis pants, underwear and socks all at once, and then his button-down pooling on top of them on the bath mat. Blaine makes a sound like a needy puppy once Kurt is naked, and pulls him into the shower.
They fall against the cold wall and Blaine gasps when his back touches the tiles. āSorry,ā Kurt rasps into Blaineās mouth, then lets his lips trail over Blaineās jaw and down behind his ear as he slips his hands around his back to act as a buffer between his skin and the cold.
āOh, oh.ā All of the little noises coming out of Blaine are driving Kurt crazy. His hips fall forward against Blaineās and Blaine thrusts out until theyāre rutting together. Blaineās leg slides up Kurtās side and he leans his head back just slightly, just enough that Kurt can see his blown pupils and slack mouth. He moves one hand away from Blaineās back and grabs ahold of his lifted leg, slipping it around his waist and keeping it in place. Blaine groans and his head thumps back against the wall, his hips pushing forward more insistently.
Kurt sucks on the damp skin of Blaineās neck, his hands rubbing rhythmically against back and thigh in time with the motion of their hips until Blaine is crying out, and Kurt soon after him.
As their breathing slows, Kurt presses gentle kisses all over Blaine anywhere that he can reach until Blaine lets out a breathless laugh. āWe just did the third thing,ā he says. āPerhaps we should try the others now.ā
Kurt chuckles against Blaineās neck. āA little recovery time first, maybe?ā He pulls back and helps Blaineās leg to the ground, then leans in to tenderly kiss his swollen lips. āLetās get cleaned up.ā
He loves soaping up Blaineās hair and the joyous, almost childlike way he smiles and laughs when Kurt gets him directly under the nozzleās spray to rinse the shampoo away. Blaine seems amused by the shower sponge, playing with the lather of body wash and insisting that he wash Kurt as well as himself. As they are rinsing off, the water starts to go cold.
"Weāre running out of hot water, better hurry," Kurt warns, and Blaineās expression turns apologetic.
"Iām so sorry!"
"Oh, no, not forever! Just for a half an hour or so until the tank refills. Itās okay."
Blaine is shivering from his cold water rinse when they step out of the tub, and Kurt wraps him in a large, soft towel, rubbing it over his skin to warm him back up. Blaineās eyes go soft as Kurt works, and his smile is gentle, faraway.
"What is it?" Kurt asks. What they just did is only starting to seep in and Kurt feels a flash of nervousness.
"I was just thinking," Blaine says in a quiet voice. He reaches out to run his fingers slowly over Kurtās cheek. "Perhaps I was meant to come here to you. You were my first clarity in two hundred years. I knew you were there as I walked around in a sleepless dream."
"Maybe you were." Kurt has never believed in magic, but now he isnāt quite so sure. "I was sleeping, but not dreaming," he whispers back, and Blaine leans in to kiss his mouth.
~*~*~*~
They donāt immediately try any of the others things they talked about earlier in the day, but instead curl up in Kurtās bed under the covers. Kurt still hasnāt gotten the chance to clean up the remnants of the broken music box, and Blaine eyes it with caution as he lies with his head on Kurtās chest. āIām frightened to fall asleep,ā he says. āWhat ifā¦?ā
Kurt shakes his head adamantly. āNo one is taking you anywhere.ā He kisses the top of Blaineās damp curls and runs lazy circles around his bicep with his fingertips until Blaine falls asleep.
~*~*~*~
Kurt doesnāt dream. There is no mist or thick air choking him. He sleeps soundly until he begins to feel eyes on him, hot pinpoints on his face and the crooks of his elbows and under his navel. He snaps his eyes open to find Blaine above him and looking down with a smile. His fingers are carding through Kurtās hair, and the tugging sensation is so soothing that Kurtās eyes slip back shut several times before he truly becomes alert.
"You doinā okay?" he asks lazily.
"If that means am I happier than I have ever been, then yes. Blissfully so."
Kurt smiles up at Blaine and takes one of his hands. āIāll work with you on thatāall of the weird, modern slang.ā
"Slang? Um, that wouldnāt be veryā"
"Words. Justā¦strange words."
Blaine barks a laugh. āI would appreciate that very much. Even words I recognize do not seem to carry the same meaning any longer.ā
"Youāll get used to everything," Kurt says with a yawn. As he stretches, Blaine slides down next to him and rests his head on his shoulder. He looks shy when Kurt meets his eye.
"Kurt, I know it is customary for it to come before theā¦intimate act, but you said it would be possible for us to marry?"
Kurtās eyes widen and he flinches back a little, regretting it immediately when Blaine bites his lip, shrinking away and pulling the covers up to hide his nudity. āOh,ā he says. āYou do not wish to marry me. Is this something that you do with lots of men?ā
"What? No. Blaineā"
"Because I would not have, if I had known that marriage was not an option. I let my feelings go to my head andā"
"Blaine, itās fine. Donāt get upset, please. I didnāt mean to hurt your feelings, itās just that these days, people donāt get married unless theyāve known each other for a long time. Or met on a reality show," he adds with a laugh. But Blaine stares at him blankly with eyes that still look lost and sad, so he waves away his comment. "I really, really, really like you, Blaine. Like, I never imagined I would ever meet someone I like as much, but we have to spend more time together. Get to know each other. Go on dates. And thenā¦if we both want to, then we can talk about getting married.ā
Blaine worries his lip between his teeth for a moment, then nods slightly. āWhat is a ādate?ā Iām assuming you are not speaking of the fruit.ā
"Oh, itās when two people who like each other go out places together. Like, to see a concert, or a movieāwhich you will love and I will show you those laterāor to eat dinner. Basically spend time alone together, getting to know each other. Two guysāmenāwho are dating exclusively call each other boyfriends.ā
āBoyfriends. Soā¦boyfriends date each other and are intimate, and then maybe get married if they both want to?ā
"Right."
"And do you wantā"
āYes.ā Kurt widens his eyes and takes Blaineās hand again, squeezing it for emphasis.
Blaineās sad expression finally cracks. He tilts his head to one side and runs a thumb over Kurtās knuckles. āWell that actually sounds very nice,ā he says. āI should like very much to be your boyfriend.ā
"I should like very much to be your boyfriend as well," Kurt says in a formal tone that has Blaine breaking up laughing.
"You are mocking me!"
Kurt places a hand over his heart. āNever!ā
And Blaine tackles him into the sheets.
~*~*~*~
"Kurt!" Blaine is calling from inside Kurtās bedroom as he tosses the remnants of the music box into the garbage can under his sink. Heād tucked a piece of the side away as a keepsake, hidden where it will not be seen by Blaine as not to upset him.
"Kurt! Your cell-e-phone is making a strange sound again! There is a portrait of a man with your eyes in the window!"
"Thatās my dad!" Kurt hollers back, dropping the dustpan on the floor. Blaine meets him halfway, holding Kurtās phone in his hand like itās a snake about to bite him. He jumps slightly every time it vibrates on his palm.
Kurt plucks it off Blaineās hand and slides his finger across the screen. āDad! Hi!ā
"You sound chipper, kid. And kinda outta breath. This a bad time?" Burt chuckles when Kurt admonishes him. "What, itās a rare thing when I got something to tease you about, Kurt. So how are you? You finished with your show?"
"No, not yet. Still working away on it with Mae. The book is great, but Iām so glad theyāre letting us rework the music. It would have ruined the entire show. God, it was so horrible."
Kurt turns to find Blaine watching him, his eyes wide as he leans his head towards the phone where he can hear Burtās voice emerging.
"So whatās got you so cheery then?" Burt asks, just as Blaine mouths, "How is this possible?ā
Kurt chuckles and takes Blaineās hand, leading him into the living room to sit on the couch. āWell, Dad,ā he says, āI do have some good news. I have a boyfriend.ā
Blaine sits up straight and looks at Kurt with such a loving expression that he almost regrets turning down his proposal of marriage.
"Wow, kiddo, thatās great! Whatās his name?"
"Blaineā¦" Kurt says, and then realizes when he opens his mouth to add a surname that he doesnāt even know what it is. So the marriage thing should probably wait until he at least has that tidbit of information. He looks over at Blaine and mouths "last name?ā
"Anderson," Blaine whispers, and hides his laughter in his hands.
"Blaine Anderson," Kurt repeats.
"And when do I get to meet this Blaine Anderson?"
"Well, at Christmas I suppose," Kurt says. "Iāll bring him home for Christmas."
"That serious, huh?"
"Yeah, Dad. Itās definitely serious."
And Blaine is no longer laughing, but looking so soft and sweet, sitting there in Kurtās robe. Kurt isnāt sure how heāll ever manage to be out of his presence again for the rest of his life. āDefinitely serious,ā he repeats, and Blaine curls up against him with an ear to his heart.
After Kurt ends his call with Burt, Blaineās eyes find his. āSo what is yours?ā
"My what?"
"Surname?"
"Oh, itās Hummel."
Blaine smiles. āHummel. I like that. And what do we doāsince we are both menāwhat do we do with our surnames when we get married?ā
"We do anything we want," Kurt answers.
"Lovely," Blaine says, and stretches up to press their lips together.
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This art was made for Klaine Reverse Bang 2014. As soon as I saw Blaine with eye patch in 3x11 I wanted to draw this :)
Two authors choose this art to make a story!
The first one by luminary-child. I'm very excited to read it :) Link to fic - Hidden Treasure, a Cliffās Secret
Warnings: Mention of major and minor character death (not Kurt or Blaine)
Fic Summary: Kurt, an Elf from Rivendell, is hand-chosen by Lord Elrond to guide Blaine, a Blue Mountain Dwarf, against his father's wishes to a Mountain no one has been to in ages. Kurt is not too thrilled at the idea of acting as a Dwarf babysitter, but he has no choice. This is the one and only chance he'll ever have to leave Rivendell and go on an adventure. Along the way Kurt discovers that this journey and this Dwarf aren't entirely what they seem.
Note: I happen to be a huge LOTR fan. I tried to do my best to stick to the Tolkien style, however, as this is a romance at heart, there are many times when I needed to stray. Also, I wanted this to be my story, not a Tolkien emulated story, so of course the style will be different overall. I also tried to stay true to the world Tolkien created, but for the purposes of this story I needed to stray there once of twice, too. Timeline wise, this story takes place before the discovery of the One Ring by Bilbo Baggins. (Also, I apologize that I did not think up original names for Blaine's brother or the members of his clan and relied on Glee characters, but this is also a Glee story, so I wanted to stick them in where I could). Also, since Kurt's father in this story does not resemble the character of Burt in the story, he is not specifically named. I hope this all make sense.
I want to say a special thank you to riverance for her amazing art, and her incredible kindness. This story wouldn't even exist without her, and I hope it does the beauty of her images justice :)
The first art was made for the Klaine Reverse Bang 2014. It was inspired by the movie "The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug" :) I was very lucky that amazing fmhartz91 picked my picture, she made a great plot and I couldn't resist to draw two more pieces for the story.