Title: Once Upon A December
Chapter One: The ElusiveSomeday
Summary: AU. Blaine had two problems in his life: his trouble making friends and the boy they dragged into this mess. But, maybe the latter wasn't all that bad. ConArtist!Wes&David. Orphan!Kurt; Klaine. Loosely based on Anastasia.
Pairing: Klaine Rating: K Disclaimer: I am not FOX or Ryan Murphy.
A/N: Leaving me home alone with Season One of Glee and Anastasia on DVD is not a good idea. Ever.
Really, though. If you haven't seen FOX's '97, Anastasia, do it. It's too cute. Also, this is an adaptation of the movie, meaning the general plot will be the same, but not the exact events. I hope you enjoy it.
They showed up at his door, grinning from ear to ear, unannounced and unapologetically so. Blaine had not seen the two since graduation last year; now, they showed up at his house, like it was completely normal. Sure, they'd all been friends at school, but that was out of convenience. They were amusing, a relief from the normal, structured ways of the institution, but never particularly close friends. So when they came on this unexpected visit, Blaine was both surprised and immediately suspicious of the idea.
"Wes. David. It's been a while," he said, greeting them by the door. The two nodded simultaneously before they pushed him aside and barged into the house, uninvited. Blaine forced a smile on to his face, trying not to display any signs that would signify that he was irritated at the two for their lack of manners. Oddly, through some sort of miracle – you see, they'd never quite been to the house before – they navigated down the treacherously long and complex hallways of Blaine's house and made their way to the kitchen. It was David's keen sense of smell, Wes would later admit, that lead them there directly. The two rummaged through the glass cabinets, pulling out every condiment they could find, raided the fridge for meats and cheeses, even taking out a cold rotisserie chicken, and dug out the loaf of bread from the pantry, still fresh and warm from the oven and complied from all of this the biggest and longest sub Blaine had ever seen, as the poor boy watched in horror. They cut it in two and each took a half, shoving it into their mouths.
"How gave you been, Blaine, my good man?" asked David, swallowing his first mouthful. Blaine blinked, somewhat shocked at the fact that neither of them has spoken since they entered the house, and they were already eating Blaine's food. He paused for a moment, recovering from the realization.
"I've been fine." Blaine stared at the two, who were busy wrapping their mouths around the clubs, gnawing away at them while sitting atop Blaine's steel countertops. "What are you two doing in town, anyway? I thought you were away at Stanford?" Wes gulped down what was in his mouth to answer.
"Oh. School? We quit that," he announced.
"Yes. We've gotten into a business of out own," David said, chiming in. He and Wes looked at each other, smirking. Blaine raised an eyebrow at the two.
"Business already? But we were barely past first term…" Blaine pointed out. Wes laughed.
"Well it's a… different sort of business."
"You see, said and I are in the business of…" Wes paused, leaning against David with a sigh, "Women."
"Women?" Blaine asked. "So you two sell – "
"No, nothing like that. We are in the business of charming women."
"And reaping the profits.
"So you're con artists," Blaine stated flatly. Wes looked at him and frowned.
"Con artists? You make us sound so horrible! We're in the business of charm," David mumbled, his mouth full of food. Blaine rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'll have you know, I'm not giving either of you a cent of my money," Blaine announced. Wes laughed, getting up and putting down his sandwich. He walked over to Blaine, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Nonsense, Mr. Anderson. We don't want your money," Wes chirped. David swallowed the remains of his sandwich, reaching out and swiping what was left of Wes' off the counter. "We want your help."
"My help? With what?" Wes glanced at David, who quickly shoved the stolen sandwich in his mouth and tried to look innocent.
"Well, you see…" Wes started, rolling his eyes at David and sitting back on the countertop. "Do you know of Burt Hummel, socialite?"
"The main holder of the automobile shares? He's married to Carole Hudson, the old wife of that dead military hero…" Blaine offered. Wes nodded.
"Yeah, that's him. You know about him already. Splendid. Anyway, check this out," Wes tossed a tabloid at Blaine. The cover featured a distressed looking Burt with his wife and stepson. "He's apparently got a long lost son. Back when he was broke, he had a wife and kid, but they got into a car accident. The wife's dead, but they never found the kid. Burt's looking into a private detective. He's paying big bucks to whoever finds his son."
"So where do I come in?"
"Well, you see… we don't really need to bring the actual son to him. I mean, they haven't seen each other in years and… well… he might not even be alive. So, we get some nice looking boy off the street, and you train him to be a socialite." Blaine sighed.
"What's in it for me?"
"Well, we happen to know that a certain Mr. Anderson senior won't pay for your dreams of becoming a musician. He wants you to be a lawyer, does he not? Well, with the money we'll get, you won't have to depend on daddy to pay your bills anymore. You can go to your fancy music conservatory in Oberlin and become the best damn musician in the whole damn world!" Wes announced, shaking Blaine by the shoulders. Blaine hesitated.
"I want thirty percent of the profits, at least," he stated flatly. David choked, coughing up chunks of bread. Blaine gagged.
"Wait a minute… we're willing to offer ten… No more," Wes stammered out.
"Twenty five or I walk." Wes glanced at David, who sighed.
"Fine," they muttered simultaneously. Blaine smiled.
"Well, where are we going to find this son?" he asked. David laughed.
"Well, we'll start where one usually begins looking for someone," David announced.
"The bar," Wes chimed in.
"Why if it isn't Jekyll! And Mr. Hyde? I haven't seen you two in over a month!" called out the barkeep as Wes and David walked in. Blaine shook his head in disbelief.
"Really? This is where you pick up women? And they don't dump you straight away after hearing those phony names?" Blaine muttered. Wes turned to him and grinned.
"Well, those names work quite well, we find," he responded.
"If we don't stay together for long periods of time. And we changed them to Dr. Jackson and Mr. Hyder," David added. Blaine shook his heads, following the boys to the stools at the bar.
"'Evening, Earl. The usual," Wes said to the balding barkeep who immediately nodded and headed to the back to restock on the brandy. Wes turned to Blaine again, grinning.
"Isn't this a nice place? This is a lovely place," he murmured.
"A darling place," David added. They both looked at each other and laughed at a joke Blaine was clearly not getting. The door chimes rang; a young boy with neatly parted brown hair was entering, wearing a simple red military jacket, worn down skinny jeans, and a black paper boy hat.
"I'm only five minutes late!" he called out, as he walked to the bar, putting both hands down on a stool. He propelled himself over the bar, murmuring an "excuse me" to the three costumers, before he exited to the backroom. Earl came out with the drinks, smiling at the kid as he passed.
"Whose that, Earl?" David asked, raising an eyebrow. Earl smiled.
"That's the new help."
"Isn't he… a little young to be working here?" Wes asked.
"Aren't you a little young to be drinking here? We aren't quite twenty one yet…" Blaine muttered under his breath. Wes jabbed him in the side. Earl sighed.
"I don't know… but he's one of Sue's kids. Down at the orphanage. Will insisted that I take him in…"
"Will Schuester is his brother. He co-runs this place. We like Earl better. Will's a bit of a creep," Wes explained. Blaine rolled his eyes. A sound came from the back room. It sounded a bit like… singing?
"Would you like anything, Mister…?" Earl asked Blaine. Blaine shook his head.
"The name is Blaine. And no thank you. I don't drink." Both Earl and Wes snorted.
"Blaine Anderson," said David smirking.
"Oh. Mr. Anderson? Mr. Anderson is in my bar? Well look at that!" Earl joked. Blaine slammed his head lightly against the bar top, trying to block out the snickering of his colleagues.
"Enough," muttered Blaine, "Or I'll need a drink."
"Well, by all means…" The back door opened and the brunet walked out, holding a case of clean mugs, humming a tune.
"Hope, love, family. There was once a time I must have had them, too…"he sung softly, placing the crate down on the countertop behind the bar. Wes looked over at David, and they both glanced at Blaine, who was closing his eyes, listening to the boy singing, and appreciating the music coming from his mouth. Earl cleared his throat.
"Kevin, no singing when people are around. You'll disrupt the costumers," he hissed. 'Kevin' rolled his eyes.
"Will lets me sing. And he also gets my name right. It's Kurt," he snapped. He turned to the boys and plastered a smile on his face. "I apologize." Blaine opened his eyes again.
"No. That wasn't disrupting at all!" Blaine exclaimed. Kurt blinked, confused by the older boy's reaction. Blaine blushed. "You're very talented, you know that? That was… wow…" Wes and David looked at each other. Wes leaned over, whispering something in Blaine's ear as the flustered Kurt left.
"His eyes were glasz." Wes pointed out.
"Excuse me?"
"Elizabeth Hummel's eyes were glasz."
"No. Absolutely not." Kurt said flatly, walking away from the three boys, clutching his satchel. Wes ran down the street, magazine in hand.
"Why not?" Wes demanded. Kurt turned around, taking the magazine in his hand, pointing to the image of Burt Hummel.
"Look. He's wearing plaid. I will not pretend to be the son of someone who dresses like… that," Kurt spat out. David chuckled. Wes rolled his eyes.
"C'mon. Think of the money. I'll give you five percent!"
"Five?" Kurt scoffed. "No thank you, sir."
"But you have her eyes." Wes whined. Kurt shook his head.
"I don't care. I don't have time for fake family reunions. I have to focus on my career." Wes snorted. Blaine glared at him, stepping forward.
"Your career? With the amount that this guy, who wears plaid, makes a day, could enable you to produce your own play on Broadway, Kurt, never mind get a role. You wouldn't want to be the son of someone like that?" Kurt paused.
"… Broadway, you say? Like, real Broadway? Not just off-Broadway?"
"Real Broadway."
A/N: And so the adventures begin…
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