Blaine Anderson.
Blaine stared down at the pale wrist in shock, time seeming to slow down to a crawl. It took an eternity before he jarred himself out of that state, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
Relief whooshed through him, making his knees wobble, and he sunk down on to the wet pavement beside the too still man. There were no visible injuries, so he suspected a head injury had knocked the man out.
Please let him be OK...
Blaine searched the man until he pulled a wallet from his jacket breast pocket. With fumbling hands, he opened it, just needing to know for sure. The driver's license was right there.
Kurt Hummel.
His hands shook even harder, making him drop the wallet. A credit card and some papers fell out. Blaine shoved them back in, swearing softly to himself. The papers were tickets. A quick glance showed they were for a musical later this month.
As he pushed the wallet back into the man's pocket, he heard a soft groan. The man's eyelashes moved. Blaine felt frozen again, as stormy blue eyes met his.
Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel.
The name seemed to ring in his head, his heart pounding in his chest, his breathing too fast.
A noise nearby pulled his gaze finally away, and he could see two paramedics approaching. He sunk back into the shadows, his dark clothing making him almost invisible.
Within minutes, Kurt Hummel was being wheeled away, and loaded into an ambulance.
...
"Kurt..."
The soft voice roused him from his light sleep, and he blinked up at the pretty blond woman setting a lavish bouquet of flowers on the nearby window ledge.
"Quinn," Kurt said with a smile, as he tried to roll over on to his back. His smile changed to a grimace of pain.
"Hold on, let me help you," Quinn rushed to his side, straightening his pillows and pulling his blankets in better order.
Kurt gave her a rueful smile of thanks. "You didn't have to visit me."
She shrugged. "I know you don't have that many friends here yet."
It was true. He was still getting used to being back in Ohio. At least Columbus was a big city, feeling more like New York than Lima ever would.
"So what happened?" Quinn asked, settling herself onto the visitor's chair and crossing her legs. She looked as beautiful and put together as ever, with a chin length blond bob, and a dark grey suit. She must have come to the hospital straight from work.
Kurt sighed. "I feel a bit stupid. I was a bit lonely, so I was looking to meet up with someone from Grind'r. To make it safer, we agreed to meet in public at a gay bar. A good way to see if we were actually attracted to each other, you know-"
"And he attacked you?" Quinn broke in to say.
"No," Kurt shook his head, and then closed his eyes tight at the pain. It took a second before he opened them again. "We didn't really hit it off. I stayed at the club for a little while, danced and had a few drinks, but left pretty early on my own."
"You were attacked leaving?" Quinn's hazel eyes blazed with indignation. "So, it was gay bashing?"
Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "It must have been. It happened fast. Two or three guys suddenly around me, yanking me into a back alley. It's all a blur," he lifted a hand to his head, probing lightly over the bandages. "One of them must have hit me on the head with something. Knocked me out."
"You reported it to the police?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Kurt waved a dismissive hand. "But I can't remember much to really identify them. They probably won't be caught."
This set Quinn off into a rant, telling him how frustrating it was how many criminals got away with their crimes. Citing recent cases of killers getting away due to technicalities.
Kurt could only smile at his friend, every part a lawyer these days. She had done brilliantly at Yale, and decided to come back to Ohio to work in the prosecutor's office for a few years. Gaining experience and connections before setting up her own firm or joining one.
His eyes fell to the small gold cross he could see dangling from a fine chain around her neck. "Um, Quinn," he interrupted, getting up his nerve. "Can I ask you about something, um, spiritual?"
She blinked at him in surprise, momentarily speechless. "Sure. But I thought you were an atheist."
This had all come up in high school when his dad had a heart attack. Quinn, Mercedes and Rachel had prayed by his bedside, and Kurt had made them leave. The whole religion thing had been discussed extensively at Glee club.
"Yeah, I still am, but something strange happened in that alleyway," Kurt thought back to the flashes of images from his jumbled memory of that night. "I opened my eyes, and I think I saw an angel."
"An angel? Like blinding white light, white robes, harps playing and everything?" Quinn seemed half-amused, half-confused.
"My main impression was of these warm golden brown eyes. They seemed so full of love. So expressive. He wasn't wearing white though. It was dark, and he seemed dressed in black." Kurt was haunted by those eyes. Kept thinking about them. So understanding and compassionate.
"He? Your angel was a man?" Quinn chuckled. "Is that a gay thing? You get a same sex angel?"
Kurt rolled his eyes at her teasing. "He seemed to just disappear when the paramedics came. I know it sounds stupid, but I think he was sent to watch over me until they arrived. So I wouldn't wake up alone and afraid."
Quinn took his hand, her grasp warm and comforting. "I'm glad he was there for you."
...
The theatre was about 3/4 full, the lights warm and welcoming, as Blaine found his seat. He tugged his cardigan to make sure it was lying smooth, and straightened his bow tie.
Nerves were making his leg shake. Taking a deep breath, Blaine let it out slowly, as he looked around at the decor. The walls were a pale gold colour, the arched ceiling with rows of lights making the ancient theatre seem even more intimate.
He was so distracted, he almost missed when a man sat in the seat next to him. His breath caught, and he tried to calm his pounding heart as he subtly glanced his way. It was enough to confirm it was Him. Kurt Hummel. Here. Actually here. Right beside him.
The past few weeks had been hell. He had googled 'Kurt Hummel' with 'Columbus', not getting any hits. No one was listed in the yellow pages these days. He didn't know where to even start looking for the man. He just knew he would be here, tonight.
Kurt was sitting with a pretty blond woman around his age, chatting and laughing together with a comfort that seemed to imply they had known each other a long time.
The lights soon dimmed, and Blaine tried to focus on the spoof musical. His attention kept being drawn away by Kurt, his soft chuckles and when he shifted in his chair. Once his leg even bumped against Blaine's, a second or two of bliss. He even thought he could smell his delicious cologne.
At intermission, he followed Kurt and his date to the lobby, watching from a distance as they ordered drinks. He could fully appreciate Kurt's clothing now, slim black pants with a teal dress shirt. Both were fitted well enough to show Kurt's slim body off.
When Kurt left his date to go to the washroom, Blaine followed him. How could he get a conversation going? Washrooms were rarely a place men chatted. They didn't even end up at urinals next to each other, since it was busy.
Washing his hands, Blaine accidentally turned the tap a bit too far, being distracted thinking about Kurt. The hot water splashed up over him, wetting his shirt. "Fuck!" he swore, as he jumped back.
A hand reached over and turned the tap off, and the man chuckled. "Are you OK? The plumbing in this old theatre is a bit ancient. No touchless sink sensors here."
Blaine looked up to thank the man, and locked gazes with Kurt. "Um, I, yeah...thank you," he finally got out. He couldn't look away from those beautiful eyes, blue with flecks of green and gold.
Kurt seemed just as entranced. "Oh, yes...no problem," he mumbled softly. He was hardly even blinking, standing completely still.
"Excuse me. Can you move please?" An older man tsked as he pushed past them, jarring them out of the way.
Blaine looked away first, the spell broken. He chuckled, grabbing some paper towels to dab at his wet shirt. "At least it's only water."
Kurt gave him a wan smile and left.
It took Blaine a couple minutes to tidy himself the best he could, and then rush back to his seat. The lights dimmed almost as soon as he sat down, but he was fairly certain Kurt flicked a glance his way.
For the rest of the show, Blaine felt Kurt looking his direction. Blaine tried to concentrate on the musical, laughing along with the jokes, but it felt like his awareness of Kurt was growing stronger and stronger.
Was this a soulmates thing? People talked about the connection they felt the first time they met their soulmate. The glow of warmth they felt right through their bodies. Was this it?
When the show ended, Blaine didn't stand up right away. He had been thinking hard on how to talk more to Kurt. How to try to meet him again. Coming up with no great ideas. He pulled out his phone, acting like he was just checking in to justify still sitting there.
Kurt and his date weren't rushing away either. They seemed to be whispering back and forth. Blaine could swear he heard the woman whisper "Just talk to him!"
"Did you like the show?" Kurt turned towards him, looking a bit uncomfortable but his eyes seeking Blaine's.
Smiling a little, Blaine nodded. "It was fun. I think I've seen most of the musicals they were spoofing."
"I think I was in most of the musicals they were spoofing," Kurt replied with a charming smile of his own.
Blaine chuckled, and gathering his nerve, held out his hand. "Blaine Anderson."
This was it. Kurt would surely recognize the name.
Kurt's gorgeous eyes widened, and he blinked slowly. It felt like minutes passed before he finally clasped Blaine's hand. "Kurt Hummel."
Even though Blaine already knew, hearing those words from this beautiful man practically made his heart stop. "It's you. It's really you..."
"Well, I think I'll hop in a taxi. Early morning meetings," the blond woman was standing, arranging a wrap over her shoulders. "Talk to you later, Kurt."
She bent down to kiss Kurt's cheek in goodbye. Blaine could swear he heard her whisper, "Have fun with your angel." A second later she had gone.
Realizing they were still holding hands, Blaine reluctantly let go. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"
...
An hour later, they had each had a couple drinks and shared the basic details of their lives. Funny to think they had both grown up in Ohio, and never met each other. Funny to think that they were both living in the same city in Ohio after so many years away.
Blaine was holding Kurt's hand, and he edged up his cuff a little, just staring down at those words etched on his skin. Kurt couldn't stop staring at his wrist either, tracing over the words with a finger.
"I can't believe we met each other at a theatre, watching a musical!" Kurt chuckled. "My friends back in New York will think that's hilarious."
"Why?"
Kurt shrugged. "Because I moved to New York to go to a performing arts school. I wanted to be on Broadway."
Blaine was intrigued. "Really? And when did that all change?"
Looking away, Kurt's lips pressed into a thin line. "There were a bunch of gay bashing incidents, and I ended up in the hospital trying to stop an attack. After that, my priorities really changed. My father was already in Congress, working on laws to help the disadvantaged. I wanted to do something like that."
Blaine was trying to keep calm. He had already witnessed Kurt being attacked once, and to know it had happened before was heart breaking. His eyes searched Kurt's face, looking for signs of the attack a few weeks ago, but saw nothing. They must have hit him on the back of the head, his hair covering any bump.
"What did you do?"
"I changed schools, and went into a social work program. That's why I moved back to Ohio, to be part of the opiate action plan."
His admiration for this man increased even more. He knew that many people were dying from unintentional overdoses. "So, you are part of the outreach? Interacting with the community? Is it dangerous?"
He had already come so close to losing Kurt once. The thought of Kurt putting himself in more danger in his work made dread coil in his stomach. He had seen so much violence in his night watches in recent years.
Kurt shrugged dismissively. "It's all part of the job. We minimize the danger by going out in teams, and getting to know people in the community."
His answer made it even more apparent that Kurt hadn't been working the night he was attacked. Had he been in that area of town for a personal reason? There was a gay bar a block from that spot. The thought of Kurt going there looking for sex with a random made jealousy flare inside him. But those days were over, for both of them.
"Things can still happen, no matter how careful you are," Kurt carried on, his eyes downcast. "I was on my own one night and got attacked, a few weeks ago."
Blaine squeezed his hand. "Really? Were you badly hurt?" A question that had been plaguing his mind since then.
Kurt's left hand went up to the back of his head, rubbing it gently. "A bad knock that made me pass out. I think they must have been interrupted or scared off, since they didn't do anything else."
"Were you robbed?" Blaine fumbled to ask, trying to act normal.
"No," Kurt shook his head. "Gay bashed again."
This led to Blaine ranting passionately for a good ten minutes, going on and on about how sick those people were, attacking people in groups. Kurt listened with an indulgent smile.
He squeezed Blaine's hand. "You know, a strange thing happened the night I was attacked. When I was coming out of it, I felt a presence. A wonderful, loving spirit hovering over me, protecting me. Quinn says he's my Guardian Angel. But then again, she's Christian and I'm atheist."
Blaine looked down at their joined hands, afraid of what his face would reveal. "The world is full of mysterious things."
Kurt yawned, pulling away. He left cash on the table for their drinks. "Want to go?"
"No, but I guess it is getting late." Blaine said, following Kurt out of the bar. The night was mild and quiet.
Kurt simply grabbed his phone, and entered his contact information. "There. I just texted myself, so I have your info. Dinner tomorrow?"
He stopped in front of a Prius and looked quickly around. Leaning back against the car, he wrapped a hand around the back of Blaine's neck, drawing him down for a kiss.
Startled, Blaine braced himself with his hands on the car, on either side of Kurt, sinking into the heavenly sensation of his lips. This was nothing like any kiss he had ever had before. He felt surrounded, Kurt's cologne, his fingers digging into his hair, his lips gently pressing against his own. He felt dizzy, lost, and this was just from a simple kiss.
He pulled back, breathless, watching as Kurt opened his eyes. They were as full of wonder and delight as he was sure his own were.
"There is something to this soulmate thing, isn't there?" Kurt said softly, his pale skin flushing slightly. Between that and his slightly parted lips, Blaine was tempted to kiss him another thousand times.
"Yes, definitely. Dinner tomorrow." Blaine said softly, as Kurt opened the car door and slipped inside. He was soon gone with a wave of his hand.
...
The next few weeks were a blur. Every free moment was spent with Blaine. Talking, touching, learning everything about each other. Kurt had never been happier and Quinn and his co-workers teased him mercilessly.
There were some strange moments though. They rarely spent the whole night together. Kurt often had to work nights. And other nights, Blaine kissed him sweetly before going home to his own bed.
"Do you know how these strips work?" Kurt said, squatting down and resting his back against the brick wall. There were two men in their twenties near him, men he knew injected drugs. "Recent studies have shown fentanyl in 86% of all the street drugs tested. So you need to test drugs before you inject, right?"
They nodded, seeming lucid enough as he went through the harm reduction strategies. They maybe weren't ready to get off drugs yet, but he wanted to make sure they lived long enough to get there.
Maria tapped him on the shoulder, and he rose up. "Ready to move to the next block?"
He nodded, waving goodbye to the men he had been talking to. They had accepted the baggie of supplies and the brochure he had given them. It was all he could do for now.
They walked down to the next area, and Kurt felt a sense of déjà vu. This was close to the spot he had been attacked and he hadn't been back here since. He looked around, trying to seem subtle about it.
"You doing OK?" Darius said, walking beside Kurt. He was very tall and lanky, his loose hoody and baggy jeans doing nothing to hide his skinny frame.
Kurt looked up at his friendly African American co-worker. The man had a way of reading people that made him invaluable for reaching at risk youth. Unfortunately, it made him good at reading his co-workers too.
"I don't know. Do you ever, um," Kurt paused, looking for the right words, "feel like we are being watched? I always feel it more when we are in this part of town."
Maria overheard him, and was instantly on her guard. She looked around, her dark eyes darting to the shadows and even scanning the rooftops. This area was an old warehouse district that had been mostly converted into lofts, restaurants and bars. It was mixed with some older, abandoned buildings that unfortunately attracted the homeless, drug dealers and criminals.
Kurt chuckled, putting an arm over her shoulders. "Relax. I don't think it's someone bad watching us, preparing to jump us. But do you ever feel, um, like a positive presence? Watching over us?"
Maria's eyebrows shot up. "Are you, Kurt Hummel, talking about God?"
Chuckling, Kurt shook his head, stepping away. He glanced towards the flat rooftops of the warehouses that surrounded them. "No, no, a much more earthy, human presence."
They got busy with their work again, but occasionally, Kurt's eyes would dart around or upwards. The feeling of being watched was making him jumpy.
...
Blaine crawled along the edge of the roof, peering down over the edge. There were three men ambling down the alley, passing a bottle back and forth between them. Getting louder block after block, swears and racist slurs peppering every sentence.
Maybe they would come across someone alone and vulnerable. Someone they could attack like Kurt had been attacked. Pulling him into a dark alleyway to kick and punch, venting their futile hatred. Egging each other on.
Blaine kept a close eye on them, ready to call the police if they went into action. Ready to show up to startle them into giving up and running. It would be better to catch them, but he'd settle for preventing the target from getting too injured.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shape moving across the roof of the neighbouring building, before sinking into the shadows. A criminal, looking for a way to break into a building?
He scrambled to keep up with his potential criminals, and noticed the other person keeping pace. He saw a glimpse in a beam of a streetlight, and could swear he saw tight grey spotted clothing and a black mask across their face. A mask similar to the one he was wearing.
What was this? Another nocturnal avenger?
The would-be gang was getting on a city bus, so no longer his concern. Blaine turned his attention to the shadowy form on the other building, using his considerable skills of stealth perfected by many nights on these rooftops.
He knew the area like the back of his hand, and was able to find where the buildings were separated by a jumpable distance. It was always a thrill to feel his black cape flowing through the air behind him, then landing softly, and scuttling closer to his target.
As he approached, it became apparent that it was a man wearing bodysuit, boots and a black mask. The bodysuit seemed to be a taupe-grey, with darker spots that helped him disappear into the shadows like camouflage.
Blaine gained on him, eventually tackling the man, straddling his chest and pinning down his wrists with his hands. "Gotcha!"
The man below him twisted and turned, but Blaine was more experienced in hand to hand combat, and soon his captive surrendered, the fight going out of his body with a sigh.
"What are you doing up here?" Blaine hissed, using a raspy whisper to disguise his voice.
The man's eyes flashed with defiance. "Fighting injustice, righting all that is wrong, and pursuing truth, justice and peace on the streets of Columbus."
The man's voice was strangely familiar. Too familiar. So were the blue eyes peering up at him from his mask.
"Kurt? Is that you?"
The man chuckled. "I have no idea who that is."
Blaine scoffed, feeling amused. "So, What are you supposed to be, anyways? Some type of cat?" Kurt's mask reminded him of cat eye sunglasses, the outside corners tilting upwards sharply to a point.
"Guess."
Letting go of Kurt's wrists, Blaine sat up to scan over his costume more thoroughly. "Hmmm... no stripes so not a tiger, and those aren't like leopard spots."
"Yes, getting warmer," Kurt smirked.
"A panther?"
"Already taken."
"A cougar?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Do I look like an over-processed older woman looking for boy toys?"
"Well, maybe you are calling yourself a puma. Aren't they the same thing?"
Kurt scoffed. "Puma is a German sports brand."
Chuckling, Blaine crawled off Kurt. "I give up."
"I'm a lynx. A medium sized cat, not the strongest or the fastest, perhaps, but with big eyes and great hearing. Makes them good at hunting at night." Kurt sat up, wrapping an arm around his bent knees.
Blaine looked at him, wearing such a tight bodysuit, and admired the way it showed off his slim, muscular body. "And they have long legs, good for running and jumping." His voice was naturally a little raspy this time.
Kurt shivered in response, his eyes heating up at the warm look from Blaine.
"Cold?" Blaine said teasingly.
Kurt grinned back flirtatiously. "Not bad, I'm wearing a few layers."
Standing up, Blaine held his hand out to Kurt. "Come on, let's do another lap around the buildings. It will keep us warm."
He set off on his well travelled path, only occasionally peaking behind him to see if Kurt was keeping up. He stopped at the corner of one rooftop, sitting on a ledge. There was a good view of several streets from here.
Kurt plunked down beside him, almost breathless. "This is a pretty good workout. You do this most Friday and Saturday nights?"
"Yeah, it's good for my body and my peace of mind, being able to help people. But not so good for relationships. My boyfriend keeps wondering why I can't sleep over on those nights." Blaine said softly, wanting to take Kurt's hand so badly.
Kurt eventually nodded. "I'm pretty new to this, but I think I'll keep it a secret from my boyfriend as well. Perhaps we could do this together, make it a little safer?"
Smiling, Blaine took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. Feeling, as always, that rush of warmth and feelings at the simple touch. "I'd like that."
...
They stayed out another few hours, keeping an eye on the areas Blaine had seen the most trouble occurring. It was a relatively quiet night. He texted his contact at the police just once, telling him about a bad fight that was breaking out.
Near the gay bar, there was a dark alley and they saw two men move into it. It quickly became apparent there was nothing violent going on, and Blaine tilted his head to signal for them to move along.
Kurt shook his head, taking Blaine's hand to pull him closer. They stood in the shadow of a tall vent, watching silently. Blaine could hear Kurt's breathing getting faster, and knew he was becoming as aroused as he was.
Pulling them around a corner, Kurt pushed Blaine against a brick wall and kissed him hard. It was much raunchier and desperate than any of their previous kisses, and Blaine groaned, pressing closer. His hands slid down Kurt's skintight costume, landing on his ass to pull him in tighter.
"Seeing things like that is another perk of this job, I see. It would be really nice to change out of this costume and just go over to my boyfriend's place. Fuck him into the mattress," Kurt whispered hotly into Blaine's ear. "But it's probably too late. I'm sure he's fast asleep by now."
Blaine was practically panting with need, arching his hips to grind against Kurt. "I bet he's still awake, and would be very, very happy to see you."
Grinning, Kurt pulled back. "Hmmmm...you may be right. I think I'll change and head over there right away."
...
Kurt sighed in pleasure as his boyfriend kissed down his bare back, pushing the bed sheet out of the way. This was the best way to wake up.
He rolled over, looking up at the honey brown eyes gazing down at him, so full of love. Picking up Blaine's hand, Kurt pressed a fervent kiss to his own name etched into the skin there. "Have I told you how much I love you?"
The words got him pure heart eyes in return, and he felt surrounded in this man's complete and total love. "Kurt, the words 'I love you' are too simple to capture the deep feelings I have for you. You are my everything. My soulmate." Blaine's lips kissed over his name on Kurt's wrist, sending shivers of arousal along his sensitive skin.
Spreading his legs, Kurt groaned as Blaine settled over him. "I'm actually a bit sore from all that running and jumping last night. I'll need to step up my game to do that with you every weekend. Let's go get massages later."
"Later," Blaine repeated, already distracted as he kissed down Kurt's chest. But then he stopped, looking up at Kurt. "Wait. How did you figure it all out? Nobody else has."
Kurt chuckled, smoothing his hand over Blaine's messy curls. "Well, it took a little while to piece it all together. I started becoming more aware of a feeling of being watched when I worked nights. I have very good eyes and ears, and I caught enough glimpses of you to figure out you were wearing a cape and a mask. Asking around to a few of the guys on the streets revealed there was a mysterious vigilante, with stories of him appearing just in time to stop serious trouble."
Blaine looked a little put out, pouting a little. He didn't like that his secret identity was out there. "So, everyone knows it's me?"
"No, no, just me," Kurt quickly comforted, running a hand down his arm. "I had more pieces of the puzzle than everyone else had. I knew you were always unavailable Friday and Saturday nights, when most people reported seeing the guy on the rooftops. I knew you were holding something back from me. And I eventually figured out that you were the one who was there when I was attacked."
Looking relieved, Blaine hugged Kurt tight. "It was so scary, finding you unconscious, not knowing how badly you had been hurt. And then I saw my name on your wrist, and thought I'd lost my soulmate the day I'd found you. I was so relieved when you came to that musical."
"I know. You told me all that last week when you drank too much. By the fourth drink, I think you would have shouted your 'secret' from the rooftops," Kurt smirked, and pressed a kiss against Blaine's neck.
Blaine looked a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I'm not great when I drink too much. At least you'll be around from now on, helping me keep my identity secret, right?"
"I'm your soulmate, Blaine. That means I love all parts of you, including your Tron Man persona."
Straightening up, Blaine looked down at Kurt in disgust. "Tron Man!"
Kurt shrugged, grinning a little too widely at Blaine's outrage. "Well, the chest-piece looks a bit robotic, and the blue and black colours remind me of that old Tron movie."
"I'm Night Bird!"
Rolling his eyes, Kurt smiled placatingly, and then yanked Blaine down for a hard kiss. He wrapped his long legs around him, flexible as a cat, and practically purred when Blaine kissed down his neck. Sometimes, it was best to know when to shut the fuck up. Loving and accepting Blaine for who he was meant accepting his superhero side as well.
...
-A/N: Thanks for reading my silly little story. :D
-Columbus Warehouse District: I made up this area of the city. As far as I know, Columbus doesn't have an area with old brick warehouses converted to lofts, restaurants and bars suitable for would-be superheroes to patrol.
-Musical the Musical: They go to this spoof musical of other musicals.
-Opiate Crisis: Kurt is a social worker involved in a community harm reduction team.
-Fentanyl testing strips: A life-saving overdose prevention tool, empowering individuals who use drugs to know if a substance has been contaminated with fentanyl and to take action to reduce the risk of overdose.
-TROPES:
"It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a superhero who is going to fail at keeping their identity secret"
plus
"OMG they were soulmates!"
plus
"I'm totally trashed, let me tell you every secret ever including how much I love you"
-Based on the 'Ultimate Battle of the Tropes' posted by spaceorphan18 recently on tumblr, there were 'winning' tropes in the first round and I casually commented "I kinda wanna write a story for each of these. At least the winners." And then hkvoyage promptly replied "I dare you! I want you to! I'd read them!" And who can resist a dare? Not me. So, I have clumped the tropes into about five stories. They will all be separate works in this Tropes series.