#klaine advent 2017: fraction

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

do you know any fics with time loops? or time travel in general but not historical fics

Here is a copy of the time travel tag in the library. There's quite a few there. ~Jen

Also see this:

Klaine Advent 2017: Fraction by @daisyishedwig

Part 1 of Time Travel, Soulmates, and lots and lots of angst and confusion. Time traveler and soulmate AU. Living in a dystopic future, Blaine Anderson is saved from certain death by a time traveler who apparently already knows him. (Lots of different parts).

[accio-chris]

Klaine Advent Day 6: Fraction

If you happen to walk or drive by the Pasadena Retirement Home, you'd see an elderly man sitting on the porch.

His face is wrinkled and old, but at the same time seems to be ageless. Maybe it's because of the stark white locks on his head, or his eyes - still full of life, with no trace of tardiness after all these years.

Every day after lunch he would come out onto the porch, always staying until sunset. Some days he'd read, other time he'd bring an old guitar with him, but never play it.

The man never speaks to anyone, either. Sometimes there's a small smile on his lips and a sparkle in his blue eyes, especially when he sees a young man with a mop of dark curly hair on his head.

It remains him about another man from his younger days.

A man that once was his biggest adventure, his best friend, his soulmate.

A man who's now just a fraction of his memories, the only one that refuses to disappear like many others already did.

He sits there, intensely watching the street, and waiting. Because one day, when the man come back to him, his wait will be over.

He'll be ready to go home.

[whatstheproblembaby]

Klaine Advent Day 6 - Fraction

“Okay, I have to apologize real quick, but then I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

Blaine froze in the doorway of the apartment, hands still up near his neck to remove his scarf. “Uh...can I at least get all the way inside first?”

“Yes, sorry, didn’t mean to completely blindside you,” Kurt said, flapping his hands toward the coat rack. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Alright, what’s up?” Blaine asked once he’d removed all his winter gear and taken a seat next to Kurt.

“I was straightening up our office a little when I accidentally read a paper that you must have made during a therapy session. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy like that, even accidentally!” Kurt said, looking a little panicked.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Blaine said gently. “I appreciate that you told me, but I’m not upset that you accidentally saw one of my papers - it could happen to anyone.”

“Okay. Okay, great,” Kurt said, taking a deep breath. “I just - I know therapy is supposed to be confidential, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to break that.”

“I trust you,” Blaine said. “Simple as that. And your question?”

“Is related to what I saw, so again, don’t answer it if it’s too invasive,” Kurt said. He unfolded a piece of paper from his front pocket before continuing, “So the reason I even read the paper is because I saw my name. And I have to ask...why am I outside of your heart, Blaine?”

Blaine looked at the drawing he’d made a few sessions back that divided his heart into different sized segments based on how much he cared about certain elements of his life. Music, friends, family, performing and more all had relatively large fractions dedicated to them, but as Kurt said, his name was in stark black letters outside the border.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine said, a soft smile on his face. “You see what color your name is in?”

“Yes,” Kurt said suspiciously.

“And you see what color the border of my heart is?”

“They’re both black, yes. Is that symbolic of something?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Blaine said, putting a hand on top of one of Kurt’s. “You’re the border of my heart, Kurt. Not a fraction of me, but all of me. You affect everything I do. But - and this is the breakthrough I made in that session - those pieces are still there even if you’re not. I still love them, and they still make me me. I’m not nothing without you.”

Kurt wiped his eyes. “You know, in a lot of movies, I’d be sad-crying because you’re not nothing without me.”

“But these are...?”

“Happy tears, obviously. I’ve always thought you were so special, Blaine. Not you-as-my-boyfriend, or you-as-my-husband, but you. I’m glad you’re learning to see that too.”

“I’m a work in progress, remember?”

“I do.”

[notarelationship]

Klaine Advent 2017

Day 6 - Fraction

Summary: Blaine is new at McKinley. Kurt finds him interesting.  Nerd!Blaine/Skank!Kurt Word Count: 847

I will be putting this up on AO3 after the advent is over and I can fix up some spelling and syntax errors. ALso I’ve got a horrible cold so I hope this makes some kind of sense.

--

Kurt took the stairs two at a time, determined to keep any errant feelings he might be having about Blaine tucked away. It was ridiculous to think that Blaine would want anything to do with him. Kurt got the impression that Blaine really hadn’t approved of his beating Karofsky up.

It didn’t matter. He might not be able to stop those goons from picking on other kids, but he could make sure they didn’t always get away with it.

“Blaine?” Kurt knocked softly on the bathroom door before when he got back to Blaine’s room. He couldn’t hear the shower running and he really didn’t want to walk in on him naked. Well, any more naked. “Are you decent?”

Kurt could hear Blaine moving on the other side of the door, but he still stepped back when Blaine opened it. He was. thankfully, dressed. Kurt didn’t want to complicate his life. The crooked smile Blaine was wearing wasn’t helping.

“Sorry about stripping in front of you,” Blaine said, and Kurt could see the blush rise up his neck from under the tank top he was wearing. That wasn’t helping either. “I was just trying to get out of my clothes.”

“Yeah I did notice that.” Might as well roll with it, Kurt thought. Maybe if he stayed cocky he’d be safe. Blaine shuffled a little uncomfortably, hugging himself and rubbing one arm up and down. “I didn’t find any club soda downstairs, but there was some of this orange seltzer.” He held up the can he had found. “Let’s see what we can do, huh?”

Blaine stepped aside and let Kurt have access to the clothes that were sitting in a purple pile in the sink. It looked bad.

“Huh,” Kurt said again. “That’s a lot of slushie.”

“I know,” Blaine moped and sat down on the lid of the toilet. “The other kids in Glee Club warned me that this sort of thing happened all the time but I foolishly thought they were exaggerating.”

“Oh, they were definitely not exaggerating,” Kurt said. “Well your jeans are jeans, so they’ll be fine with a bit of a soak and the washing machine.” Kurt picked them up and put them in the bathtub. “Try to rinse as much of the syrup off in the shower.”

Blaine stood, but instead of taking the jeans from Kurt’s hand, he grabbed Kurt around the wrist and pulled his hand up so he could look at it.

“Kurt!” They weren’t bleeding anymore, but his knuckles were split and scraped from punching Karofsky. “We need to take care of this first.”

“Blaine no - it’s fine. I’ll just wash the dried blood off.” Blaine took the jeans from Kurt and dropped them in the tub, then moved the rest of the clothes out of the sink into the tub as well.

“You most definitely will wash off the dried blood,” Blaine said. “And take off your jacket, it’ll make this easier.”

It was obvious from the look in Blaine’s eye that he wasn’t going to accept ay resistance from Kurt on this. But since he seemed to be coming out of his astonishment at being slushied Kurt went with it. He shrugged out of his jean jacket and let Blaine tug on the sleeves to get them off without dragging them over his sore knuckles.

“Here,” Blaine reached into a cabinet under the sink and brought out a clean hand towel. “Was with water and then soap and water, I’ll be right back.”

“I know how to take care of a bruised knuckle Blaaine!” Kurt called after him as he left. But he washed his hands and was drying them on the clean towel hen Blaine returned.

Blaine gingerly took Kurt’s hands, turning them so Kurt’s palms were face down and he could look at the scrapes.

“They’re not bad Blaine.” Blaine scoffed but didn’t say anything. “I’ve definitely had worse.” Blaine held onto Kurt’s hands a fraction longer than he needed to.

“Why?” Blaine asked quietly as he went about putting Neosporin on Kurt’s knuckles. “Why do you get into fights?”

Kurt drew his mouth tight. He really didn’t want Blaine to stop touching him. “I didn’t used to,” he answered. “But I got tired of them hitting me first.”

Blaine nodded. “I used to take boxing lessons,” Blaine said. He didn’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry Blaine,” Kurt said. “You shouldn’t have to put up with it.”

“No.” Blaine shook his head. “No one should.” Blaine finished with Kurt’s hands and then set everything down on the counter. “I’m suddenly really tired. Um, my mom’s not going to be home for a couple of hours. Do you want to take a nap?”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open.

“I just - I don’t really want you to leave, but I think I’m going to pass out. Just a nap. The bed is more than big enough.”

Kurt turned around, as much to stop looking at Blaine’s insistent face as to see the size of the bed.

“A nap actually sounds great,” Kurt said. He was so screwed.

[ckerouac]

Operation Secret Santa

Klaine Advent 2017 Day 6: Fraction

Day 5 | Also on AO3

“Good morning, sunshine,” Mercedes said brightly as Kurt all but slunk into their cubicle.  “Happy Monday.  Have a good weekend?”

“Well, I spent all of Saturday feeling like death, and then all of Sunday trying to avoid thinking about what the hell happened on Friday night,” Kurt grumbled.  “Speaking of, what the hell happened on Friday night?”

Mercedes smile grew even wider.  “You don’t remember?  Oh my god, Kurt, you don’t remember?”

She had her ‘you made an ass of yourself and I snapchatted the whole thing’ face on.  Kurt wished for nothing more than the ground to open up and take him now.  “No, Mercedes,” he said, his voice as measured as he could make it.  “I don’t remember.  We were getting drinks, and I ordered another one, and then… nothing.”

Mercedes clapped.  “So you don’t even remember the Blaine of it all?”

“No, what do you mean the Blaine of it all?”  Waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him was taking too long.  How long would death by office chair take.

“Hey Mercedes!” Blaine called out from the coffee bar.  “Hey Kurt.”

“Hey Blaine,” Mercedes replied, giving him a wave as Kurt debated between waving and dying right there.  What did she mean the Blaine of it all?

“Glad to see you’re looking better.  I was worried there,” Blaine chuckled with a wink to Kurt.  “Anyway, today’s a 9am kind of coffee day.  Gotta run, but I’ll see you guys later.”

Kurt managed a convincing smile until Blaine disappeared around the corner.  “When did we become friends?” he hissed.  “When did you become friends?”

“When we left the bar, he was in the line outside,” Mercedes explained.  “You wanted to say hi, and then he said hi back, and then you might’ve started… word vomiting about Christmas.”

“But not, like… actual vomiting…” Kurt trailed off hesitantly.

“No, not like actual vomiting,” Mercedes assured him.  “And then he said he’d take you home, and since you’re alive and not in a trash bag in the bottom of the lake, I assume you got home just fine.”

“He took me home?” So was that what the text message was about?  “Why did you leave me alone with him?”

“You told me to take a hike and leave you with the man with God’s perfect ass,” she said.  “And he said he’s take responsibility for you.  So… you know.”

“But then what happened after that?”

Mercedes shrugged.  “I can’t tell you what happened after the cute guy took you home.”

“But what did we do?”

“Did you wake up with a hickey?”

Kurt grimaced.  “No.”

“Then I can’t help you there.”

“Then what help are you?”

“You know who can help you?”

“I am not going to ask him what happened!”

“Then you, my friend, are going to stay in the dark.”

Kurt grimaced.  The was a non-zero chance he completely embarrassed himself in front of Blaine Anderson Friday night, but it obviously wasn’t bad enough to cause Blaine to completely avoid him.  That was good.  Or bad.  Kurt wasn’t sure.  

“Maybe I’ll… go get something from the printer,” he said.

“Oh look,” Mercedes mused turning and clicking a few buttons on her keyboard.  “I just sent that spreadsheet to the back printer.  Ugh, I’m so slammed, could you go get that for me?  Thanks!” she added sweetly.

“If you insist,” Kurt grumbled, even as he hopped up from the chair and all but ran down the hallway.

Retrieving the spreadsheet didn’t take nearly enough time to gather the strength to go up to Blaine and ask ‘hey, did I harass or embarrass you while I was drunk and apparently completely unaware of what was going on Friday night?’  If he just stood here looking at the printer long enough, the right way to ask would --

“Hey Kurt.”

Kurt turned around to Blaine’s smiling, beatific face.  “Hey Blaine,” he said brightly.  Be cool, Kurt.  Be cool.

“Feeling better this morning?”

“Oh yeah,” Kurt chuckled.  “Well… a bit.  A fraction,” he laughed.  “Water helped.”

“I bet.  Hey, thanks for listening Friday night,” Blaine said, reaching out and placing his hand on Kurt’s arm.  “That helped a lot.”

Oh god, he couldn’t tell Blaine he didn’t remember anything now, could he?  “Oh, not a problem,” Kurt insisted.  “I’m a great listener.  Mercedes says that all the time.  I’m just… glad you got me home…” he trailed off.

“Least I could do,” Blaine said.  “Anyway, I took what you said to heart.  So, could you help me with the gift?  We could go tomorrow at lunch?”

Kurt nodded.  “Of course.  Of course.  Sounds great.  I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“Great.”  Blaine gave his arm a squeeze before letting go and smiling again.  “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt repeated as Blaine walked back to his cubicle.  “What have I gotten myself into?”

[mypopculturesummer]

[spaceorphan18]

Changed For the Better 6 [Klaine Advent 6]

Rating: S for Shenanigans Word Count: 2214 Summary: AU - Kurt’s a struggling actor living in New York, and is currently working on a Made-for-TV movie starring Cooper Anderson.

A/N: Written for Klaine Advent Day 6: Fraction

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

//

Changed for the Better - Part 6/24: One Love

Cooper was late.  That fact didn’t surprise Kurt in the least, still - he was standing in the lobby of the theater, waiting for Cooper to show up, feeling more out of place the longer he was there.  Dress nice - Cooper had said.  So he did, dark jeans, with a green, silk button down top.  However, half the people arriving to the theater were dressed as though they were headed to a fancy ball, in their gowns and tuxes.  If it weren’t for the fact that a group looking like 80s punk rockers had just gone in, he would have left the theater completely.  At least he had the tickets - he had asked for those purposely - knowing Cooper might bail on him or show up a half hour into the concert.

He walked around a little bit, until there was a huge influx of a crowd, so he went to stand by the stairs leading up to the second floor to keep out of the way.  While he was waiting, a very stylish man in a tuxedo, complete with gelled hair and a bowtie, came to stand next to him.  For a moment, they stood their silently, the man watching the entrance doors the same as Kurt.  

“Don’t mind me, I’m just waiting for someone,” Kurt said.  He fidgeted with the tickets in his hand.  The man was standing close, and was extremely attractive - dark hair, hazel eyes, and Kurt had a thing for men who actually went to a tailor - which this guy obviously had done.  

“Oh, me too,” the man said, not seeming concerned.  

An older woman in a oversized gold, fur coat walked by, and gave Kurt a sneer as she went into the theater.  

“I didn’t realize it was black-tie,” Kurt said, a bit sheepishly.  “I would have worn something else.”

The man beside slowly looked him up and down and gave a smirk.  “You look good to me.”  Kurt’s face flushed a little.  “It’s black-tie optional.  You could wear sweatpants if you felt like it - the patrons of the theater just like an excuse to wear their fancy jewelry whenever they can.  I’ve done a dozen of these shows, no one cares how you look as long as you give a little money.”  

Kurt felt a little bit relieved.  

“So - are you waiting for a date or something?” the man asked.  

“Oh, no,” Kurt said, looking at his watch.  The show was going to start soon.  Maybe he should call Cooper.  “Just my obnoxious coworker.”  The man raised his eyebrows - interested.  “He’s actually not that bad, some even find him endearing - but I’m beginning to be reminded why we don’t spend much time together.”  

“Ah,” the man said.  “So why come with him to a benefit concert of all things.”  

“Because he’s been bugging me to meet his brother for ages,” Kurt said - not sure why he was saying all of this to a complete stranger.  “You said you’re in the show? Maybe you’ve met him - Blaine Anderson?”

The man nodded slowly, grinning.  “Ah, Blaine.  Yeah, he’s pretty good.  However, this an opera singer performing tonight who will knock your socks off.  You know, the show’s about to start - why don’t I show you to your seat.  Even if your coworker doesn’t come - at least you can enjoy a good show.”  The man’s golden eyes twinkled with charm as he swiped Kurt’s tickets out of his hand.  “Oh, these are good seats.”  

Unexpectedly, the man grabbed his hand, and led him into the theater.  Kurt’s palm began to sweat.  Maybe he should get this guy’s number.  Maybe he should get the guy’s name first.  

“Here you go,” the man said as he showed Kurt his seat.  “Front row and center.  Which will be nice, it’s the one place from stage that I’ll be able to see.”  He gave Kurt a wink.  

Kurt flushed a little harder.  “Wait, didn’t you say you were meeting someone, too.”  

The man grinned.  “Yeah - my brother.”

“Blainey!!” Cooper had finally arrived, cheery and toothy grinned.  

“Hey, Coop,” the man said - giving Cooper a hug.  “You really need to work on punctuality.  I think your costar was freaking out.”

Oh, my god.  Kurt buried his head in his hands - mortified.  

“Kurt! You made it!” Cooper gave him a hug, too.  “I see you’ve found my adorable baby brother Blainey.  Blaine - this is Kurt Hummel, my fabulous costar who has potential, some day, to be as great as I am.”

“Hi,” Kurt said a little weakly - supplying an awkward wave.  

“Nice to meet you, Kurt,” Blaine, again, flashed him a charming smile.  “I gotta go - I’ll see you afterwards.”  

It turned out that Blaine wasn’t just a performer in the show, he was the MC - and kicked the show off with Cabaret and Razzle Dazzle, as well as introduce every act that went on that night.  In some ways, Blaine did remind Kurt of Cooper - the way he charmed the audience, the way he had a natural affinity to draw you in, the fact that he was so damn attractive.  But there was a difference as well.  Where Cooper was all ego, Blaine seemed to have a genuine kindness in his eyes, a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room, which Kurt was pretty impressed by since there were a lot of people in that room.  Still, Blaine still kept looking to Kurt throughout the show, just for a second, as if to see if Kurt was still watching.  Of course he was - Kurt couldn’t keep his eyes off him the whole night.  

There were at least a dozen or so acts, each as interesting and varied as the previous, and Blaine was right - the opera singer did knock his socks off, but them shined with such a radiance as Blaine Anderson.  Kurt was smitten, and couldn’t help but smile every time Blaine took the stage.   

The show flew by - and Kurt was a little sad when it ended.  

Afterwards, Kurt waited with Cooper for Blaine, Kurt nervously rolling on the balls of his feet.  He wasn’t sure why the mere thought of spending time with Blaine made him antsy, but here he was giddy and anxious, as if he was a teenager again.  

Blaine took a little bit of time to come out -- he had changed from the tuxedo into a black polo (which totally showed off the definition in his arms) and red pants (god they were tight), but still retained a red bowtie (not many could pull it off - Blaine Anderson could).  Blaine was stopped by at least a dozen people just making his way across the room - it was almost as if Blaine was a rock star coming out to greet his fans.  

“So, I know this great little place down the street,” Blaine said as he joined Kurt and Cooper.  “You’re coming - right Kurt?”  

“Of course,” Kurt beamed.  

The bar was nice, and well hidden, making it somewhat quiet for a bar in New York City.  They got a nice table, a few drinks, and a plate of fries to split.  Cooper couldn’t help but tease Blaine for getting a lite beer - apparently, Blaine was a light weight, and Cooper delightfully brought up the time Blaine got super drunk and made out with a girl.  The conversation, however, turned quickly over to the performance.  

“You know, it was good,” Cooper said, with a bit of hesitation.  “Cabaret needed a little more energy, and Razzle Dazzle was a little rushed - but you’re getting there.”  

“Don’t listen to him,” Kurt said.  “I think you were perfect.”  

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine said, playfully pushing at Cooper.  “Finally, someone who knows what they’re talking about.”  

“What does that mean?” Cooper asked, thinking hard about it.  

Blaine ignored him.  “So, Kurt - Cooper says you’ve been on stage.  Anything that I’ve seen.”  

Kurt’s eyes went wide - god, he hoped not.  “Oh, no, I, um, never really made a splash on stage.”  

“Do you still do theater?” Blaine asked genuinely interested.  

“Once you do movies, you can never really go back to theater,” Cooper cut in.  

“Shut up, Coop, you also recently said that theater is dead - which it is not.”  

“Well…” Cooper said as if it was a true statement.  

“I’d like to,” Kurt continued.  “But you know, finding a show for my specific type is sometimes hard.”  

“Huh,” Blaine said leaning back in his chair.  “I find that hard to believe.  Well, if you’re interested, I’m involved with a new show that’s starting up off-Broadway, well...more like off-off-off-Broadway.  It’s a show, nonetheless, and we need more people.  I’d be happy to get you an audition?”

“Really?”  Kurt couldn’t believe it.  Was this some sort of strange dream that he was going to wake up from soon?  

“Of course.”  

“Oh, is it that show your friend wrote about your life?” Cooper asked.  “I don’t know why he didn’t pick a more thrilling and timely subject.”   

“Oh, I wonder who you’re talking about,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes.  

“Wait - the show is about you?” Kurt asked.  

“Not exactly,” Blaine said, trying to retain some modesty.  “A friend of mine wrote a play based on being at a boarding school, and another friend is directing, not exactly a biopic or anything.”

“So a boarding school, huh?” Kurt said, interested.

“Blazers and everything.”  

He could easily see Blaine, all dressed in a school uniform.  Kurt took a sip of his fruity cocktail to get the thought out of his head.  

“You know, I went to public school,” Cooper interjected.  “Do you know how much real world experience I got in public school.  Frankly, I don’t think there are enough musicals about the trials and tribulations of a middle-class white kid in high school.”  

“Wait, so you guys went to different schools?” Kurt asked.  

“We did,” Blaine’s smile faltered the first time that night.  “I was, um, beat up when I was younger - for being gay.  And so my parents and I thought it might be best to be somewhere - safer.”

“Oh.  I’m sorry,” Kurt said, understanding entirely how awful it can be as a kid.  “I was pretty much harassed every day in middle school and high school.”  

“Well, at least we’re older now, and things aren’t so bad, right?” Blaine said.  

“Yeah,” Kurt said quietly, staring down at his plate, playing with a fry in the ketchup.  It gets better - at least that’s what they tell you.  Sometimes being an adult can be just as hard.  

Cooper launched into another story about a time when he and Blaine did a performance for an elderly woman, and they jumped on all her couches, making her mad.  Blaine, however, noticed Kurt’s quietness - and tilted his head - almost to ask if he was alright.  Kurt gave a thin smile, and nodded his head, as if it were no big deal.  As Cooper continued the story, wild gestures and all, Blaine found a pen, wrote a message on a napkin and slid it over to Kurt.  

Can I have your number?

Kurt smiled to himself - and quickly supplied the information.  It wasn’t long before he received a text.

You have beautiful eyes.

Kurt felt warm all over, as his stomach twisted in that thrilling butterfly way.

Thank you ;) You do, too.

Blaine sent a flirty emoji back, and nudged his foot under the table.  

Dinner ended too soon - Blaine needed to be up early, and Cooper had to be on set, and honestly, there was no way Kurt was going to have any kind of decent conversation with Blaine while Cooper was around.  Still - Kurt felt giddy the entire way home, continually checking his phone to read his conversation with Blaine.  

Kurt was in a floaty state as he arrived home.  The door was unlocked - he thought perhaps Elliott had forgotten to lock it again, but that was fine. Everything was good in the world.  

But it wasn’t Elliott in the apartment.  It was Adam.  

“What are you doing here?” It amazed Kurt at how quickly his wonderful evening could be ruined.mood could be crushed.    “You better give me back my key, because I don’t want you here.”  

“I needed to see you again,” Adam said, getting up from the couch, moving in way too close, too fast.  “I made a mistake Kurt.  I want you back.  I need you back.”

“You really think that after the way you left things, the way you just went away and left me to deal with the mess that I would so easily take you back?”

“I know, I fucked up.”  

“You did fuck up, and if you think that I’m just going to---”

Adam moved in to kiss him, hard and desperate.  

“No,” Kurt pushed at him.  

“Why?”

“I just--I…”

Shit.  

Shit, shit shit.  

There was still a fraction of his heart that still cared about Adam.  

Shit, fucking dammit.  

Adam moved in again, and this time Kurt let him, kissing back.  

Kurt’s phone buzzed in his pocket.  And as Adam kissed his way down Kurt’s neck, pawing at the buttons of his shirt, Kurt snuck a glance at it.  

A message from Blaine: Hey, can I call you?

[bebelonian]

klaine advent day 6: fraction

Something was wrong with Blaine.

Kurt knew something was wrong because of three things: one, Blaine’s clothes lay in a pitiful mess around the floor when they would normally be piled neatly on top of each other in the hamper; two, the soundtrack of Les Misérables vibrated through Kurt’s bones as he approached the bathroom, where he could hear the shower running; and three, there was a half-eaten cronut on the bed.

Kurt knew that Blaine struggled with his body image as a side-effect of his depression--after all, it had come close to destroying their relationship, not so long ago--but with medication and therapy, he had started believing that the issue had gone away, or at least become dormant. There were occasional flares like this, where Blaine hated himself and Kurt tried as hard as he could to convince him he was worthy of time and affection, but Kurt hadn’t seen one this bad since a few weeks before their wedding three years ago.

He also knew that confronting Blaine was a very precarious and specific process, one that required a lot of time, patience, and perseverance. The first step was to eliminate the music, to let Blaine know he was home and also to keep the couple in the apartment next door from filing a noise complaint. He switched off the speaker that Blaine had connected to his phone, cutting off the singer mid-note, then picked up Blaine’s clothes and placed them where they belonged, how they would have been under normal circumstances.

The next step was to wait.

The shower turned off five minutes later, and it took another ten for Blaine to emerge into the bedroom, curly hair falling damply over his forehead, dressed in an oversized T-shirt Kurt had never seen before and flannel pajama pants Kurt wouldn’t be caught dead in. He observed Kurt almost blankly, with the stare that was all too familiar--memories of nights spent wide awake, holding Blaine while he cried, reassuring him that everything was going to be all right, came flooding back in an instant, sending a dizzy rush through Kurt’s head. Slowly, hardly daring to make a move for fear of upsetting him, Kurt pat the spot on the bed next to him. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Nothing to say,” said Blaine, and Kurt’s heart sank as he realized that this wasn’t just a bad day at work. It was something more, something that both of them prayed would stop happening, and yet it continued.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked, gently, gently, not wanting to push too hard. “You look like you could use someone to talk to right now. What happened today?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened today.”

“Blaine, I can’t help you figure this out if you won’t tell me anything. I love you more than anything, but it’s hard to support you when we can’t even talk about what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong!” Blaine shouted, and this, the sudden flashes of irritation and anger, was another common symptom of a depressive episode. “What do you want me to say, Kurt? Everything’s wrong? It’s not, because I have you, and my family, and my job, but--it just--I feel like nothing matters. Everything’s wrong because I’m letting everybody down, especially you! Like, what am I even doing with my life? A music teacher, who--who does that? I barely make any money, and I come home and watch musicals and eat, and then I feel horrible about myself but I keep doing it, and do you know why? It’s because my whole life is pointless, and I can’t fix it, so I might as well quit while I’m still a little bit ahead.”

“Sweetie, no,” Kurt muttered, sorrowful tears brimming in his eyes. He indicated the spot on the bed again and this time Blaine came to him, sinking down with a blank expression and a destroyed sigh. “I don’t ever want you to think that. When I married you, it wasn’t because you could sing, or because you had a nice smile, or because you were my first love and the first boy who ever loved me back. I married you because I knew, from day one, that you were literally my other half. Everything I’m doing now, with Vogue, and the beginning of productions for that stupid musical, is because of you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know who I was or what I was doing. I love you for so many reasons, Blaine. I love all the good things about you, and I love all the sad things and the bad things and the things you feel like you can’t tell me. I love them, because I love you, and I am so proud to say that I get to be your husband.”

“I just . . .” Blaine sniffed and wiped at his eyes, then lay so his head was in Kurt’s lap, long eyelashes fluttering down to rest on the tops of his cheeks. “I’ve always felt that way, too, like we’re--like you and I are two halves of the same person, but I’ve been getting this feeling lately that I’m the worse half, and I’m just keeping you from reaching your full potential.”

“Of course you’re not,” said Kurt, half-shocked, half-saddened by the sincerity of his words. “Blaine, you’ve pushed me to reach my full potential. From the very beginning, through everything, I’ve been better with you. We complete each other, and we love each other, and that’s all we need. You didn’t sing that sappy Beatles song to me at Dalton just so you could doubt what we have and how incredible you are.”

Finally, Blaine laughed a little, and Kurt could see the sun peeking through the dark clouds at last. “I love you,” he whispered, and reached up to interlace his fingers with Kurt’s. “Never let me go.”

“Never,” said Kurt, every ounce of his feelings packed behind the single word. Whatever else he needed to say, Blaine heard it, and he understood it, and the uphill climb became a little easier to bear. “I promise.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent - “The Holiday Blahs” (Rated PG)

Kurt just can't seem to get into the holiday spirit. He doesn't know why, he just isn't feeling very Christmas-y.

But Blaine knows someone who might be able to help. (1263 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "fraction". Daddies!Klaine. Angst and emotional hurt/comfort, but mostly fluffy holiday schmoop.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, baby.” Blaine takes off his coat and hangs it beside Kurt’s on the hooks by their front door. “How was your afternoon? Get any work done?”

“Tons,” Kurt answers dryly from his seat on the sofa, where his laptop, files, and other miscellaneous work items lie scattered beside him, creating a haphazard retaining wall that separates him from the rest of the room.

Blaine walks in and marvels at how festive their family room looks – a vast difference from the stylish and modern day-to-day ambiance it had had that morning.

“You decorated!” Blaine exclaims, walking towards the focal point of the room – their seven-and-a-half foot, fully lit, artificial California cedar. “And you put up the tree!”

“Yes, I did,” Kurt mutters, fully engrossed in the photo of a young woman modeling the latest in Tom Ford suits, part of his Spring collection. Blaine watches his husband move from photo to photo, completely unaffected by the shiny red-and-green garland strung from wall to wall, or the colorful lights twinkling in time to the joyful music playing softly in the background.

“And … it didn’t help?”

“No.” Kurt sighs, setting the photos aside.

“Not an inch.”

“Not an inch.”

“Not even a fraction of an inch?”

Kurt takes off his glasses, rubs his tired eyes. “Not at all.”

“That’s a shame.” Blaine carefully relocates a pile of Kurt’s things and sits beside his husband. “I mean, it’s December 5th. The department stores have their window displays up, the Santa Claus court at the mall is in full swing, we’ve already been skating at Rockefeller Center - you’d think you’d feel a little bit Christmas-y by now.”

“I know.” Kurt scoots closer and puts his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “I don’t understand it. Christmas is my favorite time of the year. It’s the one thing that’s always been able to cheer me up, even after my mom passed away. The whole year could be crap, but the minute Christmas rolled around, it made everything feel right again. Hopeful. But now … I feel so blue.”

“Maybe you’re overloaded at work?” Blaine guesses, seeing as Kurt has taken on several new responsibilities this year after earning his big promotion to Executive Fashion Editor at Vogue. “Could that be squashing some of your Christmas cheer?”

“I work in fashion, Blaine.” Kurt moves a hand away from his computer and onto his husband’s knee. “Next to the toy industry, it’s one of the most festive industries to work in this time of year.”

“Have you been missing your dad lately?”

“Well, yeah,” Kurt says, followed by a soft ‘Duh’ that makes Blaine chuckle. “But we Skype all the time. Plus, he and Carole are flying in in a few weeks. They’ll be staying with us up through Christmas, so I don’t really think that’s it. I think I just have a case of the holiday blahs, you know?”

“Yeah.” Blaine leans sideways and kisses Kurt on the crown of his head. “I know.”

“And I’m beginning to notice that the older I get, the worse it gets.” Kurt starts scratching the denim of Blaine’s jeans, the sound of his nails raking against the fabric covering the wobble in his voice. “Maybe the magic of Christmas is wearing off for me. Maybe … maybe it’s only for children, and I should just accept it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Blaine says, gently taking the hand carving ruts into his jeans, swiping his thumb over the smooth metal of his husband’s wedding band. “I think it’s the magic of Christmas that makes us feel like kids again, which is kind of important when you have kids of your own. You don’t want to be a Scrooge when you have a seven-year-old around, excited for Santa to show.”

“You’re right,” Kurt says. “I know.” He was thinking the exact same thing before Blaine came home. “And I’m trying. I swear. But this year …” Kurt rolls his head back and forth “… I’m just not feeling it. And I don’t know how to change that.”

“Do you, maybe, want me to break out my old Santa costume?”

“You mean, that pair of red pants you wore for that obscene calendar you guys put together back in high school?”

“That’s the one.”

“Does it still fit?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Usually I’d say let’s give it a shot, but I don’t know if that’ll cheer me up … or make me feel like a giant perv.”

“It was a suggestion.” Blaine’s ears perk up at the sound of a vehicle stopping in front of their house. He glances at the clock on the mantel, checking the time, and smiles. “Though … I think someone just arrived who can help.”

“Yeah?” Kurt slips his glasses back on his nose, preparing to return to his work. “Only if they’re delivering a gallon bottle of tequila.”

“Oh, they’re delivering something a little bit better than that.”

Blaine leaps off the sofa and rushes to the front door before whoever on the other side can ring the bell. He throws it open along with his arms in greeting to the person on the other side.

“Buttercup!”

“Daddy!”

Kurt’s head pops up at the sound of his daughter’s voice. He looks over at the clock. 2:30 already? he thinks. God! The day flew by, and he barely got anything done! Of course, he’d stopped for a few hours in the middle to get the place decorated. It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated. He had to pause periodically to catch his breath when an ornament or two caused a surge of melancholy to bubble to the surface, but it was just as important to finish as the work he’s currently behind on.

He remembers the Christmas his father forgot, when he was about Tracy’s age – the one right after his mom passed away. He remembers how abandoned he’d felt, how alone. His father remembered in time to save Christmas, and everything turned out alright in the end, but Kurt doesn’t want his daughter to go through that.

He might be depressed, but that didn’t mean their little girl should suffer.

“Papa, Papa, Papa!”

“Hey, Tracy!” Kurt says, ready to intercept his daughter, but with a yelp, she flies right past him into the center of the room, straight to the tree.

“Oh! Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Daddy! You put up the tree!”

“Your Papa put up the tree!” Blaine says, redirecting credit where credit is due.

Tracy puts her hands up to her face and gasps, and Kurt’s heart squeezes, wondering if Tracy had noticed his recent moodiness with regard to the holidays. Of course, she did! he scolds himself. Kids her age notice everything!

“Papa! It’s the most beautiful tree in the whole universe!”

“Tracy!” Kurt laughs. “It’s the same tree we had last year! And the year before that! It’s not even decorated yet!”

“I don’t care! It’s our tree and that’s all that matters!” She spins on the balls of her feet and flings herself into Kurt’s arms. “Thank you, Papa! Thank you! This is going to be the best Christmas ever!” Tracy hugs her father tighter, and Kurt hugs her back, holding her so close, Blaine suspects it’ll take till next Christmas to untangle the two.

“Does that help?” he asks, rubbing circles onto Tracy’s back, wanting to be a part of this moment without taking his daughter’s attention away from Kurt.

Kurt rests his chin on Tracy’s small shoulder and sighs. “It doesn’t hurt.”

[gleekto]

Fic: Loose Ties

Summary: Blaine Anderson knows who he is - lead Warbler, A-student, student council representative - the Dalton boys all tell him he’s got charisma and charm, and his girlfriend tells him he’s dreamy.

When rival glee club student Kurt Hummel turns up at Dalton one day - ��land of glee club rockstars, blazers and ties, and a zero tolerance harassment policy - he doesn’t totally get why Blaine Anderson - the popular lead Warbler - would be so eager to court his friendship.

And to be honest, Blaine doesn’t really get it either.

Loose Ties

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Part 6 (Fraction)

Blaine walks quickly back to his dorm after his movie date with Jenna - it’s cold outside but he also wants to get back to Kurt.  They had seen ‘The Imitation Game’ at the rep theatre, the historical drama about Alan Turing - math genius, Nazi hunter, persecuted gay man. He wonders if Kurt knows about Turing and his heroism, wonders if he realizes the consequences of being found out only 50 years ago. He rushes in the door. “Kurt, are you-”

“Ahhh! Oh my god, Blaine!” Kurt freezes wrapping his arms around himself.  

Blaine’s mouth drops open as he looks from Kurt to Kurt’s computer screen. Blaine recognizes the energetic, curly haired Richard Simmons currently sing-songing to pop music and directing him to bounce “to the left, to the left, to the left, to the left. Now to the right, to the right, to the right, to the right.” Kurt is sweaty and panting and wearing bright red shiny gym shorts, white socks and running shoes, and nothing else. 

“Oh my god, Kurt. I am so sorry,” Blaine turns quickly to shut the door behind him in case there are any lurking Warblers in the hallway. He turns back, desperately trying to hold back his laugh, “Just want to make sure there’s no one else because-” Blaine can’t help it. It’s hilarious.

“Yes, I would never live it down, I know,” Kurt sighs and sits down on his bed. “Just go ahead and laugh. Not all of us prefer working out with stinky boys in crowded locker rooms.” Blaine hadn’t really given it much thought. “And besides, Richard gives a very tough workout.”

“Richard?”

“We’re on a first name basis.”

“I see.” Blaine bites his lower lip but can’t help his smiling eyes. 

“Anyways, sorry you had to see me like this.” Kurt keeps his arms wrapped around himself. “I guess it’s karma.”

“I guess so,” Blaine agrees. “And I still don’t mind.” Kurt looks skeptical. “Seriously, Kurt. I don’t care.”

“Fine,” Kurt huffs and stands up. “This is our little secret then.” Kurt unravels his arms and walks over to close the window on his computer. 

“Deal.” Blaine says. He looks at Kurt, hand on his hip, knee bent, leaning slightly over his desk in his too small red shorts and his Richard Simmons’ toned torso. 

Blaine’s lying. He does care. In a Dalton uniform, Kurt’s body looks ordinary. Layered and hidden and boxy like everyone else. Shirtless, Kurt is strong, and long, and toned. Hot. Kurt is hot. Shirtless is way better.

...

“Alan Turing?” Kurt says when he’s dressed and showered with a cup of Blaine’s hot chocolate in his hand and resting on his own bed. “Sounds compelling though I don’t think I could bear sitting through esoteric talk of math formulas and computer codes in my own free time.”

“Neither could I. Trust me, Kurt. You have to see it - a small slice of gay history,” Blaine enthuses and Kurt laughs.

“Since when are you so concerned about the history of my people?”

“Even Jenna loved it - and she’s more of a rom-com girl.”

“Where is she, anyways? Wasn’t she going to come over?”

“Oh, I walked her home after the movie.” Blaine shrugs. He hadn’t given it much thought other than wanting to get home to tell Kurt about the movie. Maybe he should have invited her. Maybe not.

“How are things with Jenna, anyways? I haven’t seen her around much lately.”

“That’s the question, I guess.” Blaine shifts over a fraction on his bed. That is the question. 

Blaine had held her hand during the movie, of course.  It was clammy. And though it definitely was not a sit-in-the-back-and-make-out sort of movie, he did kiss her goodnight when he got to her dorm, but he’s worried he disappointed her. She seemed to want to continue - or something. Her eyes were closed and she kept stepping into his body to try to get closer to him. Blaine thinks he was supposed to want that too but he was looking behind her, noticing the patterns in the bricks of her dorm - brown, brown, red, brown, brown, red. The kissing was wet. He was bored. 

“I think I may need to break up with her.”

[hazelandglasz]

Klaine Advent 2017 - Day 6

Fraction

“Kurt.”

Kurt winces as Blaine’s voice bounces on the kitchen’s walls behind him.

“Put down the knife, Kurt.”

“I’m not--”

“Kurt.” Blaine walks around to face Kurt over their opened kitchen bar.  “Our guests are about to arrive, and you, Mister, are not going to sample even a teensy bit of the dessert I prepared.”

“But--”

“Not a slice, not a fraction, not a crumb of cake for you before it is time for dessert.”

Kurt delicately (and, yes, obnoxiously) puts the knife back on the plate. “Fine.”

Blaine smirks at him. “Thank you, darling.”

Kurt pokes his tongue at him.

“Besides, if you do behave, I may have a surprise for you for a dessert post-dessert.”

“Oh?”

“Think ... Naughty Eggnog.”

As the doorbell rings, Blaine winks and blows a kiss to a stunned Kurt.

That ... is clearly a good incentive to leave the cake in peace.

[somethingfishyfan]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Glee Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel Summary:

Day six

Kurt hesitated for a fraction of a second. Should he say anything? Or was it none of his business?

[blaindersonkummel]

Klaine Fic: I’m A Sure Thing

Written for Day 6 of Klaine Advent 2017 Prompt: “Fraction”

Summary: After an exhausting day at school, Kurt is sidetracked on his way home by two figures in an alleyway. One seems to be an older man. The other, a prostitute - a boy Kurt may have seen before. Title taken from the film Pretty Woman. Trigger warnings tagged on AO3.

Word Count: 2100 - Read on AO3.

Kurt was tired. After a day of demanding dance rehearsals, voice lessons, and physical comedy acting 101, followed by two subways and a bus, Kurt was ready to get home, get into bed, and sleep for twelve hours.

The umbrella hanging on Kurt’s arm swung side to side as he trudged his way home, his apartment calling his name from ahead. As he made his way towards his building, however, something caught his eye.

Across the road, under the darkness of ten o’clock at night, he spotted two people, half in the shadows of the alleyway by the building, and half lit by the street light above.

Moving closer, however, Kurt was taken aback to see who the two people were. The first, a guy with salt and pepper grey hair, maybe in his mid-50s, dressed impeccably in a designer suit, topped by a dark trench coat which was likely to cost more than a month’s rent on Kurt’s apartment.

The second person, however, Kurt recognised. He had seen this man - well, boy really – before. The boy in question had been spotted by Kurt numerous times on this street, usually by the alleyway or on the corner. Yeah, Kurt was pretty sure this guy made his living on that street corner. And the boy’s clothes tended to confirm that suspicion.

Today, the boy had his curls loose and his eyes lined in a smudge of black liner. His clothes had tastefully fashionable rips in both the white t-shirt and the sinfully tight pair of black skinny jeans he had on, all topped with a pair of knee-length lace up boots and a bright red vinyl jacket.

Seeing these two together any other time of day may have made Kurt glance over at the sheer contrast of their ages and outfits. The thing which stopped him in his tracks, however, was the fact that the older gentleman had the boy pressed up against the side of the building.

Kurt’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. The boy had a strange expression on his face as if he was experiencing both the ecstasy of having a man pressed against his body, plus the boredom of a job he had performed plenty of times before. Kurt wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d seen the boy check his nails over the man’s shoulder as he mouthed at the boy’s neck.

Kurt suddenly caught himself staring and felt like such a creep. It was no business of his how the guy earned his living and how the other guy got his kicks. Moving onward, Kurt quickly reached the steps leading up to his building. He took them two at a time, making sure not to glance over his shoulder at the gorgeous boy, lest jealousy overcome him at seeing the man on top of him.

He was about to put his key into the front door when he heard a scuffling of rather loud noises behind him. Ignoring his rule and turning around, he was quick to catch sight of the boy pushing the man away with both hands.

“We didn’t agree on that!” the boy said, frustration evident on his face. Kurt wondered how many times before he’d had to do that.

“God, Devon, what more do you want from me?” the guy seemed to shout back, “I skipped out on my wife’s damn event mixer to come see you!”

The boy looked affronted at this.

“Yeah, so you picked me up, took me to your place, fucked me for an hour, and brought me right back again. We were out of your door in under five minutes. That’s got to be a record, John!” the boy – Devon, apparently - practically yelled this part, before his voice softened and he looked down at his boots, dejected. “If you’re not going to stick to your promise, you can just give me the money now and we’ll be done.”

The man – John – instantly seemed to have a red mist descend upon him and he stepped in to Devon’s space again. Kurt was frozen in place, straining to hear what was being said.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice threateningly aggressive as Devon backed into the wall.

“You heard me,” the boy responded shakily, obviously trying to sound more confident than he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” John sneered, “What on earth gave a slutty little bitch like you the impression that you can talk to me like that, huh?” the guy now had a venom in his voice that Kurt didn’t like, his words setting off alarm bells that Kurt really should intervene.

Devon looked hurt, perplexed, and just plain scared at this point.

“You didn’t seem to have such an issue with this slutty little bitch when you were fucking me into the mattress half an hour ago!”

The cracking sound that came was so loud, it broke Kurt out of his frozen stance. John had just slapped Devon right across the face, sending the young boy to the ground into a dirty puddle below. Devon’s hand flew to his face, holding his cheek where Kurt could see a bright red mark already forming.

That was the last straw. Shoving his keys in his pocket, with a huge rush of adrenaline, Kurt beelined right across the road towards the man. However, as he got nearer, Kurt was frozen again by a flash of something black and silver in the guy’s hand.

Devon looked up at this moment and locked eyes with Kurt, obviously having only just spotted him. His expression seemed to plead for help as he lay shivering on the ground in pain.

“Oh Devon, you’re really going to regret that.”

John then raised his right arm, pointing right at him as the black and silver flashed in front of Devon’s eyes. A gun.

Devon drew in a sharp breath and snapped his eyes shut, waiting for this to be over.

But no shot came.

Instead, there was a loud thump, followed by an even louder second thump. After what seemed like an eternity, the boy slowly opened his eyes.

Instead of a jilted ex-lover aiming a gun at his face, there stood another man. The gorgeous, much younger (but still older than Blaine), scared-looking man, breathing deeply and clutching something in his hands.

Devon sat bolt upright and surveyed the scene. In front of him lay John, face down in the puddle, his Armani suit completely ruined. The man above them, it turned out, had a death-like grip on a long, thin umbrella. It took a second for the puzzle to click that this guy must have knocked John out in one clean sweep before that gun could do some irreversible damage.

Still breathing heavily, Kurt looked down at the boy on the ground, eyes wide and heart racing.

“Are you- are you okay?” he asked, desperate to make sure this boy wasn’t in need of medical attention.

“I-“ Devon tried, but he just couldn’t get the words out. He tried again, but they just weren’t coming. He was shaking like a leaf.

Kurt managed to swing his leg over the man on the floor and walk across him to stand next to the boy.

“Devon?” Kurt asked, the boy neither nodded, nor shook his head, just looked at Kurt in shock, tears in his eyes. “Here, let me help you up.”

Kurt then held his hand out and miraculously, he took it, allowing himself to be pulled up on shaky legs as he stumbled. Kurt managed to catch him by the shoulders and steady him, a few tears beginning to leak now.

“I think you should come inside. I only live in that building,” he inclined his head towards the other side of the road. “We should get away from here.”

Allowing himself to be moved, Kurt steered Devon by his shoulders towards his apartment, helping him up the steps and into the warm entrance of the building.

When they got upstairs, Kurt sat Devon on the sofa as he ran to get some blankets and make a cup of tea. In all honesty, Kurt didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he just knew this boy needed someone right now and that person happened to be Kurt.

When he brought the tea in to the living area, Devon had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and thankfully, he seemed to have stopped shaking and got some colour back in his face – other than the bright red mark across his cheek, of course.

“I brought you tea,” Kurt said gently, moving to set it on the table in front of him and taking a seat on the same sofa.

It was only now that Kurt realised he had absolutely nothing to say to this boy. He was about to make some superfluous comment about any topic he could think of when the boy spoke.

“Thank you.” It was so soft, but it was crystal clear. He reached forward and picked up the cup, holding it in shaky hands to his lips.

“Look, Devon, if you need me to call anyone-“

“Blaine.”

Kurt stopped mid-sentence here, mind catching up.

“Do you need me to call Blaine?”

“No,” he said, the absolute tiniest hint of a smile on his lips at Kurt’s response. “I’m not Devon. That’s my middle name. My name is actually Blaine.”

“Oh.”

Kurt must have looked momentarily stumped but he suddenly felt stupid for not realising it sooner. Of course a prostitute was unlikely to use his real name. As tonight proved, it was a seriously dangerous profession to have on the streets of New York. You couldn’t be too careful.

With neither knowing how to respond, Blaine took another sip of tea, but his eyes stayed glued on Kurt’s face. Kurt could swear they held the smallest hint of lust directed at him.

Blaine lowered his cup and licked his lip, possibly not attempting to look seductive, but Kurt considered it to be overtly so, coming from this boy. “Okay, then,” Blaine began, “What do I call you?”

“Oh, ermm… I’m Kurt.”

“Well, Kurt, I must say I am seriously, seriously, happy to meet you. If you had got to me a fraction of a second later, I doubt I’d be drinking this delicious chamomile.”

Blaine gave a coy smile then and another sip of tea, but without a doubt, all Kurt could focus on were the scared eyes of a child staring right back at him.

“How… old are you, Blaine?”

“I’m twenty one!” he replied, far too eagerly.

Kurt gave him a pointed look and his guard immediately fell down, along with his head.

“I’m seventeen.”

Kurt felt kind of sick. How on earth did a seventeen year old, beautiful, quick-witted boy like Blaine find himself staring down the barrel of a gun on the sidewalk?

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt said, hurt in his voice, “How did this happen?”

“Well,” Blaine sighed, dipping the tea bag in and out of the water to have something to occupy his hands with. He took in a deep breath. “It’s kind of a long story…”

~

After an hour of talking, Blaine’s tea having gone cold and forgotten on the table, Kurt went to get Blaine some clothes to change in to, offering him the sofa to stay. Blaine fought back, refusing such a kind offer but Kurt insisted.

Instead, the pair changed clothes in the bedroom and seemed to continue their conversation sat across from one another on Kurt’s bed, legs crossed.

When that got to be too uncomfortable, the pair lay down on their backs, looking up at the ceiling as they exchanged their stories:

“I was bullied in high school.”

“I got beaten up at a dance.”

“My mom died when I was eight.”

“My dad never accepted me for who I was.”

“I don’t have many friends in the city.”

“I lost my virginity when I was fifteen.”

By the end of their talk, the pair were exhausted. So, when Kurt woke up at 6am, he was sure he had only slept about an hour. The shock came when he opened his eyes and saw that, not only was Blaine still there, he was fast asleep on Kurt’s chest, his beautiful face pain-free for the first time that night.

Kurt didn’t wake him. Instead, he tightened his arms around him and chose to go back to sleep for as long as possible. He just wondered what kind of topping Blaine would like with Kurt’s famous blueberry pancakes he’d be making in a few hours. But that could wait, for now.

[klaineadvent]

[saywhatjessie]

Common Core Can Go To Hell

Klaine Advent: Day 6 - Fraction. 147 words. (Ao3)

Blaine came home from work to find his husband and child hunched intently over their kitchen table.

“Hello, loves.” He bent to kiss the top of Cian’s head, then Kurt’s, neither of them moving or acknowledging in any way that Blaine was there. Rosa, sitting happily coloring further up the table shrieked that she wanted a kiss, too. Blaine obliged.

“Do you know what Daddy and Cian are up to?” He asked her, crouching by her chair.

She shrugged, her casual face of disinterest learned from her father. “Numbers, I think.”

Blaine hummed. He couldn’t ask more from her than that.

He ventured back over to look over Kurt’s shoulder. He snorted. “Fractions, Kurt?”

Kurt shot a deadly look back at him. “Common core is the work of the devil, Blaine.”

Blaine put his hands up, knowing better than to get involved when common core was involved.

[daisyishedwig]

Klaine Advent Day 6: Fraction

Summary: Time traveler and soulmate AU. Living in a dystopic future, Blaine Anderson is saved from certain death by a time traveler who apparently already knows him. 

A/N: Based on this text I sent to @itallstartedwithharry yesterday “Time travelling soulmates who have the first word (phrase) they hear from each other tattooed on their arms (body). The problem is that when one of them meets the other for the first time, the other one has already known them for years.” AKA how can something as simple as a soulmate AU become the most complicated 1200 word drabble anyone has ever written. I had to do a plot outline to understand my own fucking timelines here people. Fingers crossed future prompts inspire more in this verse because I want to add more and I believe it will make more sense the more I add. Or the opposite might happen, who knows. Also let’s pretend I had a plan for what the fuck kind of world Blaine is living in at the start of this. Okay? Okay.

Warnings: minor depictions of war at the beginning, some angst at the end, and probably a very convoluted plot in between, yay!

“I’d duck if I were you.”

Blaine dropped to his knees before his brain even caught up with the words that had been spoken. In the fraction of a second it took for him to process that he had just heard the words the man who had spoken them was pulling the pin on a grenade in his hand and deftly tossing it over the rickety metal table they were sheltered behind.

“Where did you even--” The explosion shocked him into silence as he covered his head with his arms, feeling small pieces of shrapnel that made it over the table bite into his forearms.

“Not now, Honey. Run first, ask questions later.” Abruptly the man stood and grabbed Blaine’s hand, pressing a button of his wristband and suddenly they were… not in the battle ground that Dalton Academy had become. Instead they were standing in the same common room that Blaine had spent the last two years of his life hiding out in, but never had it looked as clean as it did now. In fact, it was practically pristine, well dusted with books of sheet music lining the walls that had long since been used for kindling.

“What just…” he started when the man pulled him into a crushing hug.

“What on Earth were you doing there, Blaine?” he scolded, “You more than anyone know why 2024 is a year to avoid, especially anywhere in the states at that time.”

“I-I…” Blaine squirmed his way out of the man’s arms. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Of course 2024 is a horrible year, things have been shit for a couple of years now, but it’s not like I can control the decade in which I am living!”

The man stumbled back, eyes going wide as he suddenly studied Blaine intently. “Oh… oh my god. You’re…” he broke off like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “My god you’re so young.”

Blaine’s brow furrowed, at twenty-five he knows he’s not exactly a child any more but he’s certainly not young enough to garner that reaction. He is well into legal adulthood no matter what country you’re from.  

“I’ve never seen you this young before. So… unknowledgeable. Ohmygod is this what it’s gonna be like for you in a few years? Wait… do I get to mentor you? Teach you everything that you taught me, so that you can then teach it to past me? An internal loop of paradoxes, this is crazy!”

“Can you please!” Blaine shouted to cut across his ramblings. “Can you please just tell me who you are, where I am, and what the hell you are talking about?”

The man grinned like the cat who got the cream. “My name is Kurt Hummel. And we are in Westerville, Ohio in 2010. And I think from that you can figure out the rest.”

----

Later that night, after Kurt had led Blaine away from Dalton to a motel nearby, he had sat and explained. He didn’t give him too much information, saying he didn’t want to influence his future decisions, but the gist of it was that five years ago in Kurt’s own personal time line, he had met Blaine. But that Blaine was this Blaine sometime down the rode on his own personal time line. Because they were both time travelers. Apparently. And that was about as far as Blaine had gotten into Kurt’s explanation before his head started to pound from trying to wrap his mind around it.

Kurt just smiled and told him to get some rest and that they would talk some more in the morning. But rest was the last thing Blaine was doing as his brain bounced back and forth between the idea that he was apparently going to become a time traveller, and staring at the words etched into his bicep. I’d duck if I were you.

Kurt hadn’t reacted to his response and Blaine didn’t know what that meant. It was probable that somewhere down the line someone else would say those words to him on their first meeting, but it didn’t seem all that likely. So for all intents and purposes, that would mean Kurt was his soulmate.

----

Blaine barely slept that night, so the second he heard Kurt get out of bed and head to the shower he was wide awake. He sat anxiously against his headboard, listening to the water gently pounding against the wall and waited for Kurt to return to him.

His question of course died in his throat the second Kurt stepped out of the bathroom, hair still dripping down onto the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Anxiety clawed at his lungs, telling him that if Kurt was his soulmate he would have already said something about it. Surely he would know, having known him for five years.

Finally Blaine managed to choke out a small, “Kurt?”

Kurt raised his head from where he was towelling off his hair at the foot of his bed. “Yes, Blaine?”

He was supposed to be polite. He was supposed to lead into the question. He was supposed to make it clear to Kurt that he didn’t have to tell him if he didn’t want to. What he said was, “What does your soul mark say?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, as though commenting on how rude that was of Blaine to ask. That however was not enough to stop him from raising the hem of his shirt until it revealed simply, Kurt’s own name sketched across his ribs with a question mark beside it. Blaine deflated a little. He didn’t remember exactly what had first said to Kurt, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Hoping it was something different, Anderson?”

Blaine shrugged, “I just… you said what’s written on my soul mark yesterday so I thought maybe… but it doesn’t matter.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side, considering. “But yesterday wasn’t the first time I met you.” was his simple response.

Blaine nodded as he processed that line of thought, “Do you remember what I said the first time we met?”

“Of course. You said my name. It never stuck out to me though because well… no hints into our future, Blaine. I’ve broken the rules enough.”

“But, Kurt, you know what that means, right?” Blaine said, standing and reaching out to Kurt.

“That can’t be what it means, Blaine.” Kurt pulled away from him, eyes suddenly hard,  “You’ve been adamant for years that our relationship is only platonic, and if it’s not then that means that you’ve known the whole time while I’ve--” Kurt broke off turning away. “That means you’ve let me pine for five years and I refuse to believe that you would do that to me.”

“But, Kurt. You said it yourself. It’s a part of our rules that we don’t tell each other about our own future and if that includes us then… maybe I have to let you find out for yourself. I have to wait for you to find me. And now you have so that means…” Blaine trails off as Kurt rushes for his jacket.

“I can’t… I can’t think about this right now. I need… I need not you, I need a Blaine who knows what the fuck is going on here. I just, I have to leave, I’m sorry.”

“Kurt--”

“Here’s some cash. I’ll come back soon, just. Stay here, stay safe. Okay, I promise I’ll be back, just…” he took a deep breath and pressed the button on his wrist band again and suddenly he was gone and Blaine was alone.