Hello. Small new story here, written real quick for a prompt "contest" on tumblr.
Badboy!Blaine/Angel!Kurt. I have no idea where this is going, but it'll likely be fun to figure out.
My wing!kink will be showing, just to warn you.
Kurt was a ghost, or at least that's what he felt like on any given day. He passed from class to class as if invisible, other students barely acknowledging his existence, much less actually talking to him. Part of that was his own fault; he went to great lengths to remain unassuming, to be unnoticeable. The rest of it felt like a curse.
He knew what it was like. People felt uncomfortable around him. It wasn't anything they could pick out, but all the same they felt weird whenever he was nearby, as if there was something strange and inhuman about him. Kurt wasn't human, that was the truth. He floated through the halls of McKinley, trapped, with a single, hopeless mission on his mind: the redemption of a single lost soul.
A year ago he'd actually thought he'd manage to succeed. His brothers and sisters had unanimously decided that he was the one for this; that he was the most compassionate out of all of them, but it was almost as if he didn't exist in the human world. Those that did see him went out of their way to make his existence miserable, and Kurt had begun to wonder how humans ever survived in situations like this.
More importantly, how was he supposed to redeem people he was beginning to hate?
Kurt was an angel, charged with the future of a human soul, and he couldn't even stand the people he'd been exposed to. So he stayed quiet, hoping that after 'high school' he can move on and find someone that could actually benefit from his help.
Blaine liked to think he saw things no one else did. He'd learned a long time ago that the only way to get through life was to be observant and trade secrets for things he needed. It became somewhat of a game to him, and he owned information on almost everyone at McKinley, while giving the impression that he knew quite a lot more.
Kurt Hummel was his biggest obstruction to his perfect web of control. If Blaine didn't know any better, he'd think that Kurt didn't actually exist. It took him three months just to find out the kid's last name. A year later he hadn't learned anything else of significance. Not an address, not a phone number; not even a birthdate. No one knew anything about him, and no one even seemed to notice.
This wouldn't do. Blaine needed to know. There had to be some dirt on this kid somewhere, and he was going to find it if it took him all year to do so. Watching him across the quad at lunch, Blaine took a last drag off his cigarette before crushing it beneath his boot. A plan began to form in his mind, so he pushed away from his table and started making his way towards the delicate boy. If he couldn't dig the dirt up, he was just going to have to get it from the source.