Title: More Than Meets The Eye (1/3)
Media: Fic
Rating: PG13-R
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings: car!kinks, cracky premise, Transformers!AU
AN: One of three drabbles, self-fulfilling prompt. Just trying to force myself not to flesh out every single idea I get into a full blown, multi chapter story. None of the drabbles are connected, besides being set in a Transformers!AU.
Blink, and He's Gone
Summary: Blaine knows, as he sits alone with Kurt, that if he blinks again, a millennium will go by and he'll miss watching this human boy completely. Autobot!Blaine, human!Kurt
He gets teased when he picks his car form.
"Seriously?," Sam laughs, looking him over cheerfully, a yellow and black striped Camaro.
"What?," Blaine asks defensively, "I like it...and it was the best option out of everything I saw-stop laughing!"
Sam just laughed harder, his voicebox crackling. "It's just, you're the youngest one out of all of us, yet here you are in the biggest form!" Blaine glared, grounding his tires in frustration. He liked the size of his form, the power the slate grey Navigator seemed to possess. It made him feel like he could take on this strange little world, maybe even the entire Decepticon army. Wes rolled up to them, letting out a hiss of exasperation.
"We are supposed to be discreet, not stick out like loose mufflers!," he snapped, eyeing their forms.
Sam revved up his engine good-naturedly. "Dude," he said, delighted to finally use some of the Earth slang, "you're a silver Lamborghini."
He gets teased when he picks out his projection form.
This time, even Wes is joining in on the laughter.
"Can that tiny human body even get into your car form?," Sam's projection was leaning against his car form, an all American surfer type, with bleach blonde hair and anatomically incorrect lips.
"What's wrong with me now," Blaine groans exasperatedly. All he's trying to do is be a little different. Both Wes and David, and to a point, Sam, are being boring about their choices. Wes and David are both average height, weight, and above average attractiveness. From different genetic backgrounds, but still similar enough. They are dressed in black suits, and they seem so boring. Even Sam, who's in jeans and a yellow and black jacket, has given himself this ethereal beauty, this inhuman symmetrical perfection.
Blaine is shorter than average, kind of stocky. He's got a curly mop of hair on his head and a slightly imperfect smile. His eyebrows are wild, and he's got knobbly knees. There are dark jeans and a black peacoat projected on his body. And just because he can, he materializes a pair of hot pink sunglasses on his face that don't match anything at all.
"Whatever," he says, ignoring the other's sniggering as his projection jumps into the driver seat. "It's not like I plan on using this form often. The boy is going car shopping tomorrow. I'll just make sure he chooses me."
When Kurt sits in the driver seat the next day, it feels like all two and a half millennia he's been in existence had been leading up to this moment.
Even through the week and a half of huge misunderstandings, life or death situations, car chases and government conspiracies, Blaine has never felt closer to another lifeform. Kurt is this amazing, intricate little ball of energy, a source of fascination and contradictions. He was a combination of soft and sharp features, sweet smiles and stinging wit. A flood of emotion and wall of stoicism. He was infectious, worming his way into Blaine's spark like no else had ever tried. And he's almost positive Kurt feels the same way. Even before he revealed his Autobot form to Kurt, before Kurt even knew he was more than a car, Kurt would spend a lot of time with him. It made Blaine feel, big and strong, warm and comforting. When Kurt would drive, Blaine learned his preferences in music (and would subsequently fiddle with the radio stations, giving Kurt more of his favorite songs to sing along with). He let Kurt huddle in his seats, cry softly after a particularly hard day of school. (He may or may not have accidentally set off a missile in retaliation to some jocks bearing down on him, armed with cans of spray-paint and disgusted looks.)
When Kurt ran, ran so fast and hard, carrying the Cube, flashing out of sight behind explosions and debris, destroying Megatron, it was-it was the most terrifying moment Blaine has ever witnessed. Something sparked, burned, rattled his circuits in those tense seconds, minutes, when Kurt was out of sight. When it's all over, he closes his optics for a moment in relief.
And just like that, it's six months later.
Blaine and Kurt are out on a long drive, Blaine doing the driving despite Kurt being in the driver's seat.
"Hey," Kurt murmurs drowsily, petting the dashboard in affection, "You want to stop and stretch your legs?" Blaine revs his engine at the touch, and projects his sensors, looking for any Decepticon movement, any other humans in the vicinity. There isn't anyone around for miles, just him and Kurt and empty farmland. Kurt laughs, a quiet giggle, and they pull off to the side of the road. Blaine opens his door for Kurt, letting him out onto the road, then backs up to transform. His human projection materializes next to Kurt, who still jumps a little in surprise. Blaine then picks up Kurt and his other form, walking out into the middle of the field. The sun was slowly setting, painting a fleeting, beautiful moment for them. Blaine settles down, with a ground shaking thump, laying Kurt gently against his chestplate. Blaine's projection immediately snuggles closer to Kurt, pulling him to rest his head on Blaine's chest.
"I still don't understand how you feel so real," Kurt says, gently nuzzling into the fabric of Blaine's shirt. It's an old conversation, a lot of technical explanations that go far over Kurt's level of understanding.
"Nanotechnology," Blaine replies, just as he always does. What he doesn't tell Kurt is that every heartbeat, every nuance of Kurt's being is recorded and preserved. That his human projection is firing hundreds of messages, bits of information on how Kurt feels against his sensory receptors, how he smells, how every noise is a recorded soundbite. He doesn't tell Kurt how much it means to him that Kurt loves all his forms, all his flaws and imperfections. Blaine just holds the human closer, cradling him and recording the sinking sun paint beautiful colors across his face.
One day, one day after another, after a hundred years of one days, Kurt will be gone. And Blaine will exist, and keep on existing, and go on to do so after the human race goes extinct, after Earth dies out and there is no more.
Blaine doesn't tell Kurt that he's stopped blinking, that he's afraid he'll close and reopen his eyes and find Kurt no longer knows, as he sits alone with Kurt, that if he blinks again, a millennium will go by and he'll miss watching this human boy completely.