Title: Free Your Mind
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee which sucks because then Blaine would be older than Kurt like he SHOULD be.
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: T for this chapter, probably being upped to M by next chapter
Warnings: Sex, angst, ownership/semi-slavery, blatant discrimination, vague hints of d/s. This is my attempt (obvs not this chapter) at writing actual sex scenes.
Spoilers: AU but with huge chunks of canon - sort of AU from around Furt. Blaine is a year older than Kurt, and Sam and Kurt are together for this first chapter.
Summary: Kurt is a Docila - a 'submissive', who can only be released from government 'care' if Claimed at mass auctions catering to the Derala 'dominants'. Enter Blaine, who's looking for something more than the average, obediant Docila.
General: This story is essentially set in a sort of modern AU-fantasy world. Think America and Glee, but everyone can use magic. It doesn't drastically change things except in the way of medicine and making people lazy (remote control comes to you, ice cream opens the fridge for you and collects a spoon on the way sort of thing). Docila are people who are strongest at the 'soft' elements (Water and Earth) and are 'light-inclined' - their magic doesn't work at all offensively/is basically only useful for defense and healing and stuff. Derala find their strengths in Air and Fire and are generally dark-inclined - their magic works offensively and is more direct in terms of 'let's throw fire at people' sort of thing.
Obviously, the majority of people fall around the middle of that scale - which is where fun things like racial, sexual and religious discrimination come in, as well as corruption. This is essentially like sexism was in the 1800s - now we think of it as stupid and unfounded and absolutely ridiculous, but at the time it was seen as completely valid.
More specifics/a more comprehensive understanding will come as the story progresses, as well as the way the Docila/Derala system ties into relationships and sex and just how fucked-up it is.
Thanks for reading, and if you have time, please do leave a review xx
Chapter 1
As soon as Kurt woke up, he reached for his phone.
30 June.
Pressing call, Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at nothing till the ringing stopped and a sleepy voice answered over the loudspeaker: "Kurt?"
"Hey, Sam," Kurt replied quietly.
"Is anything wrong?"
The mix of worry and obvious sleep deprivation in Sam's voice made Kurt smile – a sad sort of smile that, if Sam had seen it, would have seen Kurt wrapped in his arms in an instant.
"It's today."
Sam sighed heavily over the phone. "Kurt, you don't need to worry. We're going to be fine."
"But-"
"Kurt. We know that two subs don't work together, and we already know I'm one so you're not going to be."
"Well, yeah," Kurt mumbled, "but what if you're not-"
Sam laughed – a real, warm Sam laugh, and Kurt felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "I've known since the first time I used, Kurt. And come on; you know there's no way you would ever be a sub, not with your magic. Plus, like I said, everyone knows-"
"That two subs don't work together," Kurt finished with him. "I know, I know. It's just…I don't want either of us to end up in the…you know, the markets," he finished with a hush.
"We won't," Sam promised. "We won't. We'll both have the Testing, you'll dazzle them all with your power, and it'll all be fine."
The right power? Or my real power? Because I'm not sure they're the same thing.
"Okay. Okay," he repeated, like just saying the word was going to make things okay. "Well…I'd better go. I'll see you at the medic's, right?"
"Right. And, Kurt?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
Kurt swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn't go away. "Me too," he answered hoarsely.
He hung up just before he started crying.
"Time to wake up, sir."
Blaine opened his eyes groggily, groaning in agony as beams of sunlight piercing the windows (who the fuck drew the bloody curtains?) hit his eyes with all the mercy of a sword. (Or a couple of hundred of them.)
"Oh yeah," he muttered as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes, "and exactly what time is that, Owens?" Deliberately, Blaine shuffled to the other side of the vast king-sized bed as slowly as possible, savouring the comforting feel of his midnight blue satin sheets rubbing against his bare skin for as long as he could before, regretfully, he pushed himself to his feet.
And then the agony hit him. "Darkness take me," Blaine yelped, pressing his fingers hard against his head as though that would do anything for the pain, "that fucking hurts."
"Indeed, sir," Owens said, infuriatingly calm and impeccably dressed as always, as he rounded the bed to stand the required three metres away from Blaine. "That would be the alcohol. From last night, sir."
"Right-argh!"
He collapsed onto the thick, pearl-gray carpeting, unable to deal with his head splitting open and standing up at the same time. Staring fixedly at the carpet, he tried to breathe slowly and deeply.
It wasn't easy. Drinking, Blaine was fine with. Getting drunk was a ball.
Hangovers didn't tend to happen to Blaine, no matter how much he drank. Extreme sports were probably less dangerous than the amount of drink Blaine could take. And that was almost definitely a good thing, because Blaine did not do hangovers well.
(Then again, he was almost certain that most people didn't.)
As that thought settled in his brain, he looked up, frowning. "How much of the stuff did I drink?"
Owens looked upwards thoughtfully, eyes narrowing slightly. "A lot, sir," he said finally.
"Obviously, you idiot," Blaine moaned. "Are you just going to stand there like a dolt or are you going to do your fucking job?"
When Blaine was younger, he might have cared about the very slight tightening of Owens's lips.
(And then he grew up and realised that everything has its place.)
"Very good, sir," the butler said calmly, stepping forwards quietly to lean in front of Blaine, long, slender hands reaching out to grasp either side of Blaine's face very gently.
"Oh, that's brilliant." And it was – headache gone like that. Owens might have had his faults, but his magic wasn't one of them. He leant sideways against the bed, savouring the miracle that was a hangover-free life for a moment before forcing himself to his feet.
"What's the time?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while trying to push back his mess of curls with the other, finally giving up when they refused to stay out of his field of vision.
The butler handed him a comb, which was nice and all but didn't really do much without gel. "10am, sir."
"What?" Blaine shouted (probably shrieked, but like he was going to admit to that), outraged. "What the fuck am I doing awake at 10? During holidays?"
"If you might remember, sir," Owens replied with a raised eyebrow, "you did ask me to wake you."
Blaine flopped back down onto his bed. "Right. If you remember, would you care to remind me why I did that?" He practically whined the 'why', because just because his hangover
"Sir…" The butler hesitated, and Blaine noticed the man's hand twitch as if he were on the verge of running it through his neatly-combed, gelled-back pale brown hair. "Today's the 30th of June."
"What's your…ah."
It felt like someone had thrown a cold bucket of water over him.
The 30th.
Those poor bastards.
It was so stupid, Kurt kept thinking, though that wasn't going to change anything– as if magic had anything to do with his personality, or his functionality in society. He still remembered Quinn, who'd been carted off be Tested early by her parents when they found out that she was pregnant.
Kurt had feigned surprise with everyone else when they discovered that she was light-inclined, and that her strongest element was Earth – and that, somehow, her parents hadn't managed to tell Finn or the New Directions till 13 days after – 3 days too late for Finn (or Puck, the baby's father) to stake a Claimant on her.
And so, she'd been branded Docila – a second class citizen, unable to look after herself, and so shunted off into the Facilities till she could be deemed 'fit' to be offered for Claiming – to be sent to the markets.
Everyone in the school talked about it for weeks – as though the idea that someone so ambitious and driven couldn't possibly have magical powers that might be better suited to healing and protection, rather than battle.
Kurt didn't tell anyone except Mercedes that he'd known for a fact that Quinn's strongest element had been Air. That Quinn had told him as he wiped her face after she took a slushy for him that her father was a close friend of one of the head medics in Ohio.
And then on the other side of the coin, there was Finn – passive and gentle, but a good football player, a popular jock, and sure, they might have told people that Docila and Derala were decided on the basis of magic alone, but honestly…?
Kurt had read Finn's results; he'd been able to manipulate Water, a 'weak' element slightly better than Fire, his next strength. And Light's sake, he'd clocked 51% on the darkness side, but – well, Finn has always been the lucky one, Kurt thought bitterly, before berating himself for the thought. It wasn't as though he wasn't happy for Finn – but…
"So," Kurt's Dad said gruffly.
Kurt waited a moment but his father didn't say anything more. "So what?" he asked anyway, before taking a small sip of coffee.
"Today's the day."
"It is. I'll try and be home for lunch, but I might go out with Sam afterwards."
You're not going to have to come and sign me over to the Facility, Kurt added silently.
He looked up, daring his Dad to disagree, sure that he wouldn't – and so he was surprised when his father met his gaze steadily.
"Come on, Kurt! You remember that…that Quinn girl – was that her name?" Kurt nodded mutely. "You know she wasn't a second-class citizen, you know she wasn't 'weak' or 'stupid' just because of what happened to her!"
Kurt exhaled heavily. "Yeah Dad, I know that," he said softly.
"Well, goo-"
"But," Kurt interrupted, "that doesn't mean that anyone else does."
When Burt didn't say anything, Kurt looked up to see his father looking at him, eyebrow raised.
"What?"
Burt shook his head. "Since when has Kurt Hummel, my son, ever cared about what people think of him?"
"Bu-"
It was his Dad's turn to interrupt. "No buts, bud. You didn't get all worked up over what people were calling you over the…you know, the gay thing," his father barely faltered over the word, "and there's no reason this should be any different. I bet in fifty years they'll be looking back and calling us stupid and blind and ignorant, and they should. Your mother," his voice cracked on the word, "was a million times better than I could ever be. Docila or Derala or whatever crazy term they come up with, that doesn't change anything."
Once again, Kurt thought of Quinn, and Smiling wistfully, Kurt nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, before clearing his throat. "Yeah," he said more strongly. "You're right."
They sat in silence, neither meeting the other's eye, till Kurt's phone buzzed and Bad Romance echoed around the room.
It was Sam, texting to say that he was waiting outside. "I've got to go," Kurt murmured, and Burt nodded.
"I won't say good luck, Kurt," his Dad said firmly, "because you won't need it."
Now that Blaine had been reminded, he did vaguely remember that he half-heartedly promised himself he'd go and play supportive role model to Nick and Jeff, who were being Tested today. But that would involve going to a clinic – where he'd be forced to watch sentimental parents and weeping kids who should have had no hope whatsoever of becoming Derala in the first place.
Granted, not all of the Docila were completely incompetent – take Owens, for example. Suddenly curious, Blaine looked up as Owens carefully placed a tray (his breakfast) on the bedside table. "Do you remember your Testing, Owens?" he asked, taking a sip of the coffee and trying not to wince at the taste of full-cream milk.
"Of course, sir." The man's voice was carefully neutral, and his face was expressionless.
"And your Master is…?"
"Mistress, sir. She works with Mr Anderson, your father. A junior attorney."
For the first time, Blaine realised that Owens was – what? 27? 28? Definitely not older than 30, but he remembered Owens from when he was 7 or 8 and the previous butler had been fired for stealing.
"Is she good to you?" The words left his mouth before he'd really thought of what he was saying, and as Owens' brow furrowed, Blaine desperately wished he could take them back.
"Sir?"
"Don't worry," Blaine muttered, placing the coffee mug on the tray and moving to the door, food uneaten. "Tell me what happens with Nick and Jeff, he added without turning his head.
"Where are you going, sir?"
Blaine sighed. "I think I need a drink."
Kurt laughed. It was a short laugh, devoid of any humour – but it was something. At least, it meant that he couldn't cry like they were expecting him to. "What do you mean?" he asked pointlessly.
"Your magic has a darkness inclination of 76%," Medic Chang said, not meeting Kurt's eyes. This was Mike's mother – the woman who used to do Kurt's checkups, ever since Kurt could remember.
"Well," Kurt started, and he could almost hear his heartbeat, frantic and fluttering, "doesn't that-"
The second medic, a tall, stern-faced man with greying hair who Kurt had disliked on sight, cut through Kurt's words as though he hadn't spoken at all. "But your strongest element is Water, followed closely by Air."
Kurt bit his lip, bit it till it bled. "I don't understand," he tried to say calmly. "My step-brother was like that too, and his darkness inclination was lower than mine, so-"
"However," the man continued, looking up from the papers to meet Kurt's eye coldly, without any semblance of pity or compassion or warmth, "taking into account such factors as your psychological records, your academic and sporting performances, and your…" His eyes swept up and down Kurt's body, very pointedly taking in his long, slender legs, his smooth, pale skin and hatefully androgynous features; and the medic's lip curled in disdain. "Your…sexual orientation," the medic finally said, almost as though he were about to say something else but changed his mind halfway, "we have decided that assigning you Docila is the only viable solution."
His mouth was dry. "That's…that's sexual discr…" He trailed off as Medic Chang shook her head frantically, eyes wide with alarm – but it was too late.
The male medic's eyes hardened. "I beg your pardon, Docila Hummel? Are you accusing the government of discrimination?"
You aren't the government, Kurt wanted to say, and if you are, well, I definitely didn't vote you in!
But one glance at Medic Chang, and he somehow managed to hold back the words.
"No," he said quietly.
The medic glared at him, obviously disappointed by Kurt's silence, before turning away in disgust to a desk. He lifted a folder and searched through the sheets of paper till he found what he was looking for.
If Kurt had held any hope after what had happened, the sight of the seal at the bottom of that paper crushed them.
"After a brief sojourn in the temporary holding complex in this hospital awaiting any early Claimants, you'll be sent to the Facility in Lima Heights," the tall man read from the paper, sounding almost bored, "where you will be held in safe solitude till the end of the 10 day period of Claiming. If a Claimant has not been staked, then you will be assigned to a Facility best suited to the duties selected for you according to your aptitudes in various areas. There you will be kept till you are judged fit to be released into the markets. Is that understood?"
Kurt didn't dare speak for fear of just what would come out of his mouth; instead, he simply nodded.
Yes, I understand. Yes, I understand that to you, I'm not human anymore. Yes, I understand that from now on, I'm not Kurt Hummel anymore.
Placing the folder back on the desk, the medic glanced at Mike's mum. "I will contact the Docila's parents," he said calmly. "If you will place him with the others?"
Without waiting for an answer, the medic swept from the room.
"Kurt…" Medic Chang whispered, looking devastated as she met Kurt's eyes, "I'm so sorry."
You should be, he thought bitterly, though he knew how unfair that thought was. She was a legitimate Derala, half of one of many couples that comprised of two people on an equal footing, an equal social ranking. Two full citizens.
Docila weren't allowed to form partnerships with other Docila. Two sub-humans who couldn't look after themselves, after all, let alone another person, let alone a child?
It was enough that she was being nice to him, that she felt sorry for him – that as she led him down the stairs to the complex, she whispered tips for the Facility and the markets that he was going to find himself in, soon enough.
"Don't physically resist," Mike's mum warned him. "Whatever you do, no matter what you think, there's no point in expressing it unless you know you've got the advantage."
Kurt didn't necessarily agree with that idea, but he kept silent as she continued. "Do what they say, even if you think it's degrading – even if it is degrading. If you're nice to the medics there, they'll be more inclined to let you have little freedoms – food you might want to eat, permission to use magic." She smiled briefly. "I used to work in a Facility in Alabama," she added. "During my internship. There was a girl there – your age, of course. I used to allow her to help me with healing. She was very good; Docila aren't allowed to work independently as medics but…" Medic Chang looked around furtively and leaned forwards to whisper in Kurt's ear, "it's just more proof."
Half-smiling, Kurt looked over at her. "And what happened to the girl?" he asked thoughtlessly.
Medic Chang froze. "She died," she answered with a slight quiver in her tone. "An abusive Derala."
They didn't speak for the rest of the walk, but just before she unlocked the door, she leaned forwards and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Remember," she said softly, "don't physically resist."
"But never forget who you really are."
And then the door was opening, and he was pushed in roughly. By the time Kurt had regained his footing, the sound of the bolt sliding across was already echoing around the room.
Kurt could sense curious eyes on him, but he didn't dare look up. He didn't want to know who from his school was here – didn't want to put out that tiny spark of hope that Sam was safe and coming to get him-
"Kurt?" Kurt looked up to see a small half-circle of people around him – and a very familiar face breaking through the crowd to lift him up off the ground in a warm, tight hug.
"God, Kurt," Sam whispered in his ear, "I'm so glad to see you."
And that light went out.
"You too, Sam," Kurt murmured as his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Docila can't form partnerships.
I am not human. I'm not Kurt Hummel anymore.
Never forget who you really are.
"I won't," Kurt promised himself, lying on the tiny, lumpy bunk-bed provided to them. "No matter what, I won't forget."
Note: next chapter is set 6 months later - around the time of the big Christmas Docila auctions. Any guesses as to what happens there...? ;)
Thanks!