Title: All The Right Moves (We're Going Down) [1/?]
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, some Rachel/Quinn, mentioned Brittany/Santana and background Mike/Tina
Summary: In a world where homosexuality is nearly a criminal offense and kissing someone of the same gender in public could be punishable by death, Kurt Hummel keeps afloat by masking his sexuality, spray-painting graffiti around town in the dead of night, and dreaming of New York. He's perfectly fine with not finding love yet. That is, until Dalton Academy is closed down, and some of its former students are put into WMHS—including a certain Blaine Anderson, son of the senator, the leader of the anti-gay rights movements in Ohio. Oh, and Blaine is totally straight. Right. This should be interesting…
A/N: Story title from the song "All the Right Moves" by OneRepublic. Got this idea while out running one night and I'm super excited about it. It's extremely AU and takes place in a version of the country where homosexuality is basically banned from all states except for two "safe havens", New York and California. It'll make more sense as you read. Reviews would be lovely and much appreciated!
Enjoy!
When Kurt Hummel turns eighteen, he's going to run.
When Kurt Hummel turns eighteen, he's going to get out of Ohio. There's nothing here to make him stay—his dad died early junior year of a heart attack, and the distance between him and Finn and Carole steadily expands each day. There's no family to keep him here, no good things to tie him down, and yeah, his friends are great, but they'll understand.
When Kurt Hummel becomes an adult, it'll be harder to stop him. He's going to hop on a train, ride it all the way to New York, get safely across the border, and make a life for himself.
When Kurt Hummel turns eighteen, he's going to make it to a safe haven. He's going to get to New York, where they accept everyone, and go to college, and he'll join all the LGBT movements, and he's going to find someone that makes him happy, a guy he can hold hands with on the sidewalk without having to worry if he's going to get shot for it or not.
It sounds like paradise.
Of course, doing all that is totally illegal, but his very existence is technically illegal, considering the little fact that he likes guys and not girls, so he doesn't mind breaking a few laws to get there.
When Kurt Hummel turns eighteen, he's going to aim for freedom.
::
It was always hard deciding what to wear.
Kurt Hummel stood in front of his closet, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Indecision tinged his every thought, his emotions getting in the way of his logic. Every single day, he considered it. He considered risking everything and wearing what he wanted to wear, instead of what he had to wear to appear completely straight. It was all in the back of his closet, carefully hidden but still well-placed so as not to ruin or wrinkle them too much. He hadn't looked at them in over a year, but he knew they were still there. Scarves. Hats. Sweaters. Bowties. If he remembered correctly, there was even a kilt or two back there.
In the end, though, he always caved and dressed normally. He hadn't given up his love for fashion, but he wasn't an idiot.
A pair of jeans and a casual t-shirt later, he was sitting at the breakfast table. Finn appeared to be running late, as usual, so he groggily made himself some coffee while looking around the kitchen and contemplating what to eat. Carole had taken the overnight shift at the local hospital she worked at and wasn't going to get home until late morning, so breakfast was up to him.
He settled for cereal, tipping the box towards a bowl and adding milk with a practiced rhythm. As he ate, he stretched, wincing as he worked out the kinks everywhere in his body. He'd gone out last night again with Puck and the others, and since he hadn't done it in a while, he'd been the one to shoulder all the spray paint cans on their journey.
Not very fun. Also, spray painting under bridges was not also dark but unsafe as well, and more than once he'd slipped on a rock and banged into hard concrete to avoid plunging into icy water.
He was just washing his bowl in the sink when Finn stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes in slight confusion and looking, to Kurt, like an oversized, sleepy teddy bear.
"Nice of you to wake up," Kurt quipped as he dried the ceramic bowl. "You shouldn't be up so early, though. It's not like we have school in half an hour or anything."
Finn mumbled something indistinct and Kurt smirked, dodging past Finn and his questionable balance at this time of the morning and shrugging on a hoodie. Once the coffee kicked in, Finn would be running around the house like a maniac. "You can take the car today, I'm walking to school."
"Suit yourself," Finn mumbled with a shrug.
Kurt swung his backpack over his shoulder and checked for his house keys, preparing to head out. As soon as he shut the front door behind him and turned to the street, a flyer nearly clipped him in the side of his head, carried away by the wind and blowing forcefully past him. The piece of colored paper ended up catching against the railing of the porch, where it fluttered nervously in the wind.
He picked it up and scanned the words he knew so well, his eyes roving over the black, bolded words with a sinking feeling in his stomach:
Gay is NOT okay!
Stop the insanity today!
It was all familiar propaganda that never failed to create a sick feeling in Kurt's stomach. Among the nonsensical words was a list of ways to "avoid catching homosexuality" and steps to take "if you suspected a friend or family member was gay". Telephone numbers, rules, and the ever-present reminder that homosexuality was nearly a crime, and showing it publicly could be punishable by death.
Right now, in this twisted country, the only two safe places for gay, lesbian, or bisexual people were California and New York. Every other state had banned it out of fear, and tried to eradicate anyone who resisted. Once gay people were outed, either by choice or forcefully, they simply…disappeared. No one knew exactly what happened, but once the officials came for you, you weren't seen again. It was practically illegal.
So then, if they were going by that logic, Kurt was illegal.
He'd stopped denying it a long, long time ago. Especially after his father had died—his father had told him that no one pushed the Hummels around, and Kurt was going to stick to that even if it was the last thing he did. Yes, he'd resisted the urges to dress the way he wanted and had stuck to unassuming, straight, normal clothing. Despite his longing, he'd never sung Broadway in Glee club, instead swaying in the background and letting Finn and Quinn take all the solos, and he hadn't dated anyone, but that didn't mean he was denying who he was.
He would never do that. He was hiding himself from the world for his own protection. It was one thing to be proud of who he was and another to go around announcing it, showing it and getting in hot water for it.
And, anyway, once he got to New York, he wouldn't have to do any of this shit anymore.
What kept him afloat was the idea that he was resisting, at least in some ways. He and Puck and several other people—gay and straight—sometimes crept around town at night, spraying equality graffiti everywhere. They'd targeted some of the buildings in the town square, the bridges, anywhere public they could find to spread the message, and so far they'd succeeded in staying undercover and their identity still remained a secret. He comforted himself by listening to his Broadway music in private, sneaking glances at Carole's Vogue magazines every chance he got, and keeping himself safe by appearing straight in public. He got good grades in school, was the kicker for the football team, and managed to appear innocent. Gay? Me? No, never!
What kept him alive, though, was the idea of New York.
If you were brave enough, an option was to escape to New York or California. Most people in Ohio opted to go to New York, since it was closer. Some people had died along the way—especially in Ohio, where people weren't allowed to go over to what the people had dubbed "the gay side"—but if you were smart enough and cunning enough and you wanted it badly enough, you could make it. New York and California both accepted anyone with open arms. Once you were across the border, you were free.
But he had to wait until he was eighteen.
Kurt only managed to get past the first two lines on the flyer before he crumpled the bright, neon paper up into a ball and threw it as best as he could across the street. He wasn't dealing with this today. It was a shitty way to start off the day, and he had a feeling that the rest of the week was going to be horrible as well.
Just a feeling.
New York, New York, he chanted mentally to himself as he started down the street, trying to find hope in the words and the idea of the location, the idea of that safe haven.
Somehow, the mantra wasn't helping today.
::
"Dude!"
Kurt was halfway across the courtyard before Puck's voice actually registered in his mind, and he whipped around expectantly, slowing his pace. The other teen struggled to catch up, jogging across the sidewalk, backpack bouncing on his shoulders.
"Puck," Kurt nodded at him.
"Dude," Puck repeated. "Guess what I just heard."
Kurt continued his trek into the main hallway and began to head for his own locker. "Spare me the gossip, Puck." Kurt reminded himself to pitch his voice a bit lower, not unrealistically deep but enough to not to draw attention. It was okay to let it slip occasionally around Puck, since he was one of the few that was aware of Kurt's sexual orientation and actually supported him, but when in public he had to keep up his appearance. "Let me guess, another anti-gay rally taking place in the back courtyard. More people claiming that homosexual people should die, that we're sick, that we need to be killed."
Puck rolled his eyes, "No. Well, yes, but that's normal and not what I was thinking of. You know how Dalton Academy's been getting a lot of hate from everyone and people are trying to just get rid of it?"
At this, Kurt sighed. "Yeah. There's all the petitions to close down the school because supposedly there are closeted gay teens there, it's at least someone on the news or in the newspapers every day. What about it? It's not like it's anything new."
"The petitions did it," Puck let out in a rush. "They won."
Kurt's hand slipped from his locker, his fingers accidentally sliding a couple of numbers past his actual combination. His mouth dropped open and for a moment, he forgot to keep his voice low. "What?" he asked, his voice at normal pitch again.
Puck's eyes widened, and Kurt looked around furtively to see if anyone had noticed. When no one bothered to throw a second glance in their direction, Kurt continued carefully, "It actually happened? I never thought it would…I thought it would just blow over! They've been trying to do that for like, half a year and the government has repeatedly said no. I mean, some of the sons of the government officials are in that school. Why would they shut it down?"
"Beats me," Puck shrugged. "But all of those Dalton kids are just being shoved into the public schools. A few are even coming here."
"Oh, that'll be fun," Kurt rolled his eyes sarcastically as he threw a couple of books in his locker, grabbed his letter jacket, and looked at the inside of the door for a moment. "More people getting beat up by the football team because they're even suspected of being gay."
"Hey, you know we don't do that shit," Puck said reproachfully. "You and me, man, we're too badass to do that crap."
Kurt hummed in slight dissatisfaction. "I can't wait to get out of here," he muttered, casting a glance around to make sure his words hadn't reached anyone else's ears. Anything he said or did that even hinted at non-heterosexual behavior could be reported, and wishing for a way out of Ohio was one of them. He could be pulled in by the authorities for questioning, and then...
Kurt watched Puck's eyes focus on a photo inside his locker. Reaching a hand out, Kurt slipped the magnet from the top of the paper and they examined the photograph in silence.
Kurt, Puck, and a brunette with perfectly tanned skin and a dazzling smile were laughing so hard they were slightly blurry, the poorly taken photo having come from a photo booth. It had been taken more than a year ago, but Kurt kept it in his locker the entire time.
"You still miss her," Kurt asserted, speaking of Santana.
Puck flinched. "Of course I do. I mean, yeah, she was lesbian, and I slept with her before knowing about Brittany, but she was still one of my best friends."
"Well, they're happy now," Kurt declared firmly. "And for the record, I miss them too."
Puck didn't really have any idea just how much Kurt missed Santana and Brittany. The only reason he'd ever really gotten to know Puck was due to the fact that they both had a mutual friendship in Santana. Once Santana had come out to both of them, started dating Brittany, and eventually left, the leadership position had been offered up to Puck, and they'd formed a tentative friendship in the first three weeks after Santana and Brittany had disappeared. It had been solidified as soon as they'd received a sign that Brittany and Santana were really gone for good.
Puck continued to stare at the photo clutched in his hands, and Kurt tapped his shoulder to bring him back to reality. "You keep it, on one condition."
Puck's head snapped up, "What? You'd let me have it?"
"I have others," Kurt waved it off dismissively. "Just wash the paint out from under your fingernails as soon as you get the chance. There's still spray paint there. They're a dead giveaway, you dumbass."
Puck gave him a crooked smile as the warning bell rang, and Kurt breathed properly for the first time since seeing that flyer this morning.
::
These seats were really uncomfortable.
Blaine Anderson shifted for the fifteenth time in three minutes, adjusting his grip on the chair and trying to keep calm. When he had started his senior year at Dalton, he had definitely not expected the school to be closed abruptly barely halfway through the first semester due to "legal disputes", and he had not expected to be uprooted from its familiar, stately halls and shoved into William McKinley High School in a matter of two days.
He watched a kid in the hallway get shoved into a locker by a member of the football team, and he winced.
Needless to say, his weekend had been total hell. Moving everything from his dorm room at Dalton into his regular house again, wrapping his head around the idea that he wasn't ever going back to the school he'd attended for three years, and mentally preparing himself for public school wasn't exactly fun.
His dad was in the office right now with the principal, finalizing his hurried enrollment into WMHS. Out of all the students that had lost Dalton as their school, Blaine had been granted an immediate spot at McKinley—probably because his dad was one of the senators of Ohio, and one of the biggest leaders in enforcing all the anti-gay laws. So, naturally, everyone respected him.
Blaine hated it.
He'd tried dressing casually today, in nice pants and a button-down, unfamiliar with the freedom of choosing what he wanted to wear every single day. At Dalton, things had been simple. The usual pants, blue blazer, and tie. It was uniform, and it was routine.
But Dalton had been repeatedly accused of hiding closeted gay teens, as it was an all-boys school and enforced a no-bullying policy, and now Blaine was stuck here.
He was already ninety-nine percent sure he was going to hate it.
Blaine kept an eye on the glass office doors, staring into the sea of students flooding the halls. Damn, he'd already missed first period. He wasn't really in any hurry to get into a class full of judgmental students who had probably already decided he was gay simply because he was transferring from Dalton, but he was interested in the curriculum and how easy it was going to be here. Dalton had a pretty rigorous academic program, and blowoff classes his senior year at a school he was going to hate seemed pretty appealing.
He watched as some guys in matching jackets passed the windows in a group, obviously members of the school's infamous football team. Every single one possessed a tall, bulky frame and evident muscles, except for one.
Blaine couldn't help it—he stared. Not because he was attracted to boys or anything, but, because—he looked so different.
The difference wasn't a question of flamboyance, but he stood out from the other players like a spark in the darkness. The boy was tall—no doubt taller than Blaine—but still short compared to the rest of the hulking players. His body type was nothing like a typical football player's usually was; he was lithe and lean, almost graceful in his walk, and his jacket didn't seem to fit him correctly, as if he'd been issued one a size too big. Pale, creamy skin, brown hair with lighter tints woven in, and blue eyes—impossibly blue eyes that pierced his for a single second.
Blaine swallowed, holding his gaze, before the player arched an eyebrow at him and continued down the hall, not throwing a second glance back at him.
His face was surely flushed red. Blaine shut his eyes, trying to get his head back on track and shove that odd reaction out of his mind. It took Blaine a few seconds to realize that his dad had already stepped out of the principal's office and was talking to him.
"—I talked to Figgins about joining the football team, and he said that Coach Beiste should give you a spot if you ace the tryouts. It should be pretty simple—"
"No fencing team?" Blaine asked before he could stop himself.
Nathan Anderson's jaw locked tightly and he stared down at his son for a long moment before replying, "No. Football's pretty much your only option. Make sure you get onto the team, they seem to have a good turnout this year. Two excellent quarterbacks, and a very good kicker."
Nathan handed Blaine the WMHS handbook and a class schedule, and Blaine prepared himself for his dive into the halls of public school.
"No matter what crap anyone gives you about being gay, ignore it and stay reasonable," his dad instructed him before he could leave. Blaine bent down and picked up his messenger bag, stuffing the handbook inside along with the rest of his new notebooks and a couple of pencils. "You know you're not. Dalton was a respectable school. You don't break the law. You come from a powerful family, Blaine, and you should—"
"I know, I know," Blaine rolled his eyes, tiring of the conversation already. He knew the drill. "Make sure everyone knows I'm straight."
His dad brightened up, "You're at the same school as Quinn now, you know that? Maybe you two could date…"
Blaine attempted to mask his automatic wince. He and Quinn had grown up together, as both their families were involved deeply in the government. He liked Quinn enough, he supposed, but she wasn't his type and they'd both kind of realized that dating wasn't really a good idea. Being obligated to date her—or even marry her, as that "was an option as well", according to his dad—made his stomach churn unpleasantly.
Mr. Anderson saw the expression on Blaine's face. "Blaine, the Fabrays are a respectable family. You should know—"
"Yeah, yeah," Blaine waved it off. He could feel the beginnings of a headache start to form in the back of his head and he needed to get away from his father, even if it meant facing school. "I get it."
Mr. Anderson clapped him on the shoulder with a smile, that didn't quite reach his cold eyes. "Have a good day, son. Remember, first impressions are everything. And no matter what anyone else says, you know—"
"I know," Blaine swallowed.
Nathan Anderson raised an eyebrow.
A sigh. "I'm not gay."
And he wasn't.
Of course he wasn't.