Title: "Red Fate"
Ship: Kurt/Hunter
Rating: Nc-17/M
Summary: When Kurt meets his soulmate, Hunter had been covered in the blood of the fourteen people he'd just killed. (mob AU)
Warnings: Kidnap, Soulmates, Minor characters death.
Author's notes: This story was written for a prompt at the GKM.
I'm not going to write a lot in these notes, except for a few things that might be necessary to get into the plot.
Firstly, into this story, the New Directions all went to high school together, just like in the tv series. Though, I can't say the same for some of the Warblers, like Hunter and Sebastian. Kurt has never met them, so there's never been any slushie accident or Sectionals/Regionals confrontations. Burt is in the Congress, Carole and him are married, like in canon.
Actually, what you should cut from canon Glee is simply whatever happened with characters like Sebastian and Hunter, the rest's still the same.
I'm still not sure about all the warnings right now, so I'll put them as I go.
/
Prologue
It's a sunny day in Washington DC.
Kurt is running a hand through is hair and passing the back of it on his forehand to recollect the unstoppable river of sweat running along his face. He has always hated sweat; he's the kind of guy who always wants to be clean and good-smelling. Yet, today is sort of necessary for him to be patient.
He's sitting on a bench at 11:34 am, on Wednesday, and the square is starting to get crowded.
If it weren't for the sweat, he'd totally jump around with enthusiasm, but he has totally chosen the wrong outfit for the first time in his life: he wears a tight white shirt modeling his chest and his arms, a light dark scarf that he's gradually stripping himself of as the day goes by, and tight elegant pants instead of comfortable jeans.
Well, at least, he's got sunglasses on.
He has already greeted a great number of politicians that have asked him if he is the famous Burt Hummel's son. He is and he's replacing his dad today, since he's out for family stuff: Finn is going to get married to Rachel in a month and they needed to go and take their suits and dresses at the mall, where Kurt had ordered them, in Lima.
The reason why he isn't going to take them instead is that he wasn't sure about the sizes when he ordered them, so Burt and Carole need to see if they fit it. If they don't, Kurt is going to ask Isabelle if she can do something about it before the wedding. Of course, she's invited.
He doesn't feel sure about the idea of Finn and Rachel getting married already.
He thinks they need to fix things right between them before they do, because they're walking on trampolines, which is not the right situation for getting married at all. He's not going to stop them anyway, he knows they love each other and there's a slightly egoistic part of him who wants to see the guys from high school at the wedding. It's been a long time since the last reunion.
Somehow he misses his soulmate.
Whatever happened between them – the cheating, the fighting, the distance – Kurt still feels like he's doomed to Blaine. He isn't sure about what it is: sometimes he feels like it's something magical, having a soulmate and knowing you'll end up with him no matter what; but sometimes it also feels like a trap.
Right now he misses him, so he's not going to overthink when he sees him. He's just going to act on instincts.
"Mr. Kurt Hummel?" A voice calls him out and he lifts his gaze from the empty point he was staring on the sidewalk.
The guy standing in front of him is relatively young, blond and charming, but Kurt doesn't pay too much attention to it at all – of course. He's wearing a probably expensive suit, but Kurt thinks he's sort of a bodyguard or something. He must be part of the staff working for the main event going on today.
"Yeah." He says back, grinning to him. "It's me or … hmm, his son would be more appropriate I guess."
The guy is still smiling, so Kurt supposes he already knows.
"You might want to take place, the President's speech is about to begin."
Kurt nods and he's already standing up from the bench. The guy starts walking immediately and he's so fast that Kurt almost has to run not to lose him. This isn't going to help him with the sweat thing, that's for sure.
When they get to the sits, the chairs are completely exposed to the sunlight and he bites his lower lip nervously because his skin is so sensible he's going to go back home all burnt. He turns to the guy and looks at him with puppy eyes, hoping that he'll get what's going on his mind silently, because he's not going to say it out loud.
He doesn't really want to look like the spoiled son of a politician.
The guy must get it – Luckily, Kurt thinks – because he's smiling and pointing at the benches under the awning.
"Thank you!" He exclaims happily, and he feels like hugging him, seriously.
"You're welcome." The boy says and he's giving him a half-bow. "Your skin is so pale, thought you'd be all burnt by the end of the day. It's going to be a long lecture, maybe you're not used to it."
"Am not." Kurt confirms, bright smile on his face.
The guy doesn't add anything, he just shrugs and walks away, recollecting all the politics around the square to get them to their sits.
Kurt just stares for a few seconds, and then he's moving towards the awning.
As soon as he reaches for the spot darkened by the tent, his skin gets brushed by a soft pleasant breeze that makes him close his eyes in delight. He grins feeling it slid under his shirt and almost moaning in pleasure (which would totally be embarrassing in public, he'd look like sort of a maniac or something, and that's why he keeps it).
He leans towards a white plastic chair, shifting on it to sit and he looks around curiously.
He likes the atmosphere and even though he loves working at , he wouldn't even mind the idea of being into politics. Most of this is due to the fact that he always feels like he wants to change the world. He wanted to change his school and he did even though he wasn't elected as Senior Class President and now he hopes he could do the same with the rest of the world.
Kurt is aware that sometimes he dreams a little too much: Broadway, changing the world, getting kilts to be fashion at every time of the year. Well, he's working on it slowly, and he really can't dream any less of that.
He stares at the congressmen shaking their hands and laughing loudly through the crowd. It's so weird that they're going to sit under the sun, they're old and what if something happens with their skin or they pass out?
It's possible, isn't it?
"Are you Burt's son?" A middle-aged woman asks him, making him startle from the contemplation.
He lifts his gaze and tilts his head towards her, smiling immediately. She's natural, red-haired and she looks enthusiastic somehow.
"Hm, yeah!" He answers, trying not to look too nervous as he leans his hand towards her. "Pleasure, Mrs. …"
"Edwards." She says, taking his hand into her own. "It's such a pleasure, you sweetie. Your dad told me you were coming and we were all excited to meet Mr. Hummel's son. Burt rocks, you know?"
He laughs flattered at the comment and shakes her hand gently.
"Yeah, he totally rocks, I'm so proud of him." He whispers softly, his cheeks getting redder in affection.
"You must be, he's totally one hell of a man." She laughs back and sits on the chair beside Kurt. "You don't mind, do you? I just hate sitting under the sun."
Kurt shakes his head, a smile still printed on his face.
"No-no! I don't mind at all." He says, turning his gaze to the crowd again. "I'm trying to get used to whatever he's going on right here, because I've always wanted to take part to one of these lectures. I know, it's stupid …"
"Oh, it's not." The woman says as she laughs. "But it gets boring after a while. Are you in college?"
Kurt's quite happy that there's somebody talking to him because he doesn't feel like waiting for everybody to take place would be fun, especially with such a wonderful weather.
"Junior at NYADA." He smiles proudly and the woman gives him a confuse look, like she doesn't even know what he's talking about. Kurt keeps from sighing then, because not everybody knows about what NYADA actually is and, especially, why should a politician know about it? "The New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts." He suggests. "It took me a bit to get there but I did it, so."
"Oh, that must be wonderful." Mrs. Edwards smile. "So you sing, dance and act?"
"I do." Kurt answers, blushing a little but feeling more confident than he was years ago. "It's fun."
They stay quiet for a while and when it becomes too obvious that the woman has no idea what to say – Kurt has always thought that the gap of age makes it all complete, he turns to the crowd and then the stage, staring at the way the staff is fixing the microphone.
He loves Rachel but he has to admit that being a little away from their New York apartment isn't that bed. At least he hasn't been woken up by her loud singing voice this morning at the hotel.
Yet, he knows he's going to regret this thought when Rachel's going to get married to Finn and he'll be left alone into their apartment. Maybe Blaine will finally join him in New York instead of living with Coop in Los Angeles.
There's something amusing and frightening at the same time at the idea of Blaine and him living together though. It's like he's enjoys it but feels stuck at the thought only at same time. Well, it's Blaine though, it's not like he's going to force something out of him. The only time he's properly done it, he was completely too drunk to realize.
A man climbs on the stage meanwhile, getting closer to the microphone and talking to the crowd loudly, so Kurt gets completely distracted. From the way he's introducing the topics of the day, Kurt feels like it's going to be a lot more boring that he had imagined.
Not that he complains though, he's representing his father proudly in his absence.
He pulls out his iPhone as the first congressman – he can't hear his voice too good from the point he's sitting – starts to talk. He tries to catch the more he can, so that he can write down in the notes in case someone asks him about the lecture. The crowd standing around the park joins slowly and gradually and Kurt relaxes his back against the plastic chair.
The soft wind blowing under the tent is so awesome, seriously, especially after the unbearable 15 minutes he has spent on the bench, under the sun. He feels the sweat getting sticky into his skin and he's not pleasant but at least, he's not hot as hell right now.
The crowd periodically applauses and Kurt really tries to focus but this man is so boring and he's making him yawn. He barely manages to keep his hand on his mouth in time, and the woman beside him is laughing.
"Michael is so boring, really." She comments, looking towards the stage and Kurt laughs at the end of the yawn. "No wonder why you're falling asleep."
"I'm not, really. I found out a few days ago I was going to come here in DC, so I had to get my bags ready and stuff. It was tiring." He says lightly. "I would enjoy it so much more if I hadn't sleep so little."
"You can sleep now, he's not going to say anything interesting anyway." Mrs. Edwards laughs and Kurt does the same. "He's one of the less influential men speaking today; there are several economic discussions to come."
"Like I understand something about economy ..." Kurt jokes, but he has to admit he has heard about it.
His dad has talked about some decree on imports and exportations that are meant to block the trades that are connected to mafia. Not that he's much into the racketeering topic, but Burt is getting too much into it lately and Kurt's just happy that he hasn't exposed himself too much yet. He's proud of his dad and his battles, but egoistically, he has to admit that it sort of relieves him that no one has already put a target on his name (well, except for Sue Sylvester).
He also knows that today's cultural exhibition has a lot to do with this upcoming decree; it's sort of the big topic of the day.
When 'Michael' – he has no idea who he is, what's his surname or whatever – stops speaking and gets off the stage, Kurt decides that he can pay attention again.
Everything goes on quite lazily and slowly, and it's hard not to fall asleep when there is a bunch of old people talking unhurriedly and looking like walking corpses on stage.
It isn't until half of Mrs Dalloway's speech that something happens.
There's a loud explosion that makes everybody in the square scream in surprise, but it sounds weirdly too far away. Immediately, Kurt's chest starts to jump in and out in panic, his breath becoming harsh and his heart skipping several beats.
He looks around in confusion, just like anybody else's is doing and feels a shiver running down his spine when the breeze brushes him again, this time making him whimper silently with fear.
He isn't stupid.
He's smart enough to realize that he's probably going to get involved in a fucking terrorist attack.
"It's going to be ok." Mrs. Edwards grabs his wrist and Kurt turns to her. His panic must be showing into his blue eyes because the woman is gently stroking the skin of his arm with her thumb and she's smiling at him. "There were several guards outside the gates of the park, don't worry too much ab-"
She gets cut in, there's a loud noise that sounds a lot like a burst and Kurt closes his eyes instinctively.
When he opens them back, he's shocked: Mrs. Edwards is falling to the floor, fingers loosing around his wrist and eyes wide open in surprise as a dark red stain enlarges from her chest, fast and deep.
Kurt's heart is starting to hammer and his eyes are rapidly filled with tears.
The woman who has been kind to him since she's met him, the woman who said his father rocks, the woman sitting beside him has just been fucking shot and it could have been him.
There's another burst and now everybody's screaming around them, making Kurt whimper and sob loudly, while he's paralyzed, unable to move. The hand surrounding his wrist definitively falls to the ground and he's now crying in fear, feeling the pain and the panic taking over every part of him.
He looks around, but he has no idea where to go, how to move.
One step wrong and he might fall to the floor to.
It's so fucking creepy.
There's dust anywhere and Kurt can't see anything. He's starting to pant and he doesn't know how to move, what to do. He gazes around and there's nothing but chaos: people running, screaming, gunshots.
When he feels the shots getting closer, he falls to his knees fast, starting to crawl among the running crowd.
Somebody steps on his hand but he really doesn't care, he doesn't even make a sound, he scowls in pain while tears start streaming down his face.
What if he dies?
What if this is the last time he can think, breathe or feel?
There so many things he hasn't done yet: Broadway, watching Rachel and Finn getting married, telling Blaine how much he loves him as a person, hugging his dad one last time. It's just too much and he might have a few seconds more.
There are other shots and somebody falls to the ground, a spurt of blood splashing on the ground in front of him.
He weeps loudly, hoping that the screams would cover it.
His heart aches from the panic and he's frozen now: he doesn't manage to step forward, backward, or in any direction. His fingers are curling on the asphalt and his knuckles hurt so badly because it's hard and he doesn't know what to do.
Everything is getting calmer now, not silent but a little calmer, and Kurt is afraid to look around.
When he feels strong fingers tugging at his shirt from behind, he sobs loudly again, unable to control the tears flowing along his cheeks. The hold is tight and strong, and he can almost feel the crack of the gun moving behind his back.
"Who's that?" A male voice asks.
He sees somebody kneeling in front of him, but his eyes are now closed together firmly and he can't even manage to look at the ground. He's afraid that if he dares looking, they're gonna kill him because he has seen their faces or something.
"I don't know, this fucking idiot isn't even 25, I guess …" The boy behind his back mutters and Kurt knows his trembling under his fingers. He hears him laugh, hot breath warming up his neck and the skin behind his ear. "He's shaking so bad."
"Well, let's take him." One of the two suggests and Kurt feels like he's being grabbed but he still doesn't have the courage to open his eyes to be sure about it. He just feels fingertips pressed around his biceps.
"What?" The boy behind him asks, but he's already being pulled by two strong hands. "No, hey, wait!"
It's the last thing Kurt hears because he gets hit by something right behind his neck and he feels weaker as he slowly opens his eyes instinctively.
The boy standing in front of him is covered in blood, stains making his shirt wet and sticky around his torso.
Then, his eyes are rolling and he's gradually passing out.
The last thing he sees are a pair of light eyes surrounded by creepy spurts of fresh blood.
/
He feels lost and confused, unable to open his eyes for the few seconds he's actually conscious enough to move his fingertips and curl them into the air. He tries to move his hands too but his wrists are held together and he can't help but whine when he feels something scratching the soft sensible skin, tickling it unpleasantly.
It takes him a few seconds to remember about what happened and he's suddenly scared.
He remembers about the guns, the bombs, the woman dying in front of him, the blood wetting the boy's shirt and shit, he has been kidnapped and he has no idea where the hell he is right now.
He swallows but his mouth feels so dry that it almost hurts.
He wants to cry.
He wants to scream.
He's not making any sound instead.
He blinks his eyes hard and after a few tries he manages to open them and stare at the empty room he's in.
He's tied to a chair, his wrists hurting from the pain of being pressed together against the wood back for God knows how long, and the room is completely dark except for a small neon lamp in the corner. It's far but it allows Kurt to looks around at least.
There's just a desk in there, where the lamp is put and Kurt's eyes feel too heavy and tired to look over the wall to find the door. It's so weird though, because he was sleeping, so his eyes are supposed to be the only part of his body which doesn't feel tired at all.
He tries to make the chair slip on the pavement but he's weak and he's not really able to make any useful move. Pain in the ass.
The moment he hears the door get open, he freezes on the chair, eyes immediately flying wide open in fear and heart hammering hard and loud into his chest. He bites his lower lip nervously as he sees a the shape of a person walking towards him in the dark and he starts trembling so much that he can hear his nails scratching along the wood of the back of the chair. His wrists brush together involuntarily and the tight hold makes him whimper in hurt.
"You're awake." A voice tells him and Kurt can tell he's a boy now. He just watches as he approaches until the dim cold light reveals the picture of his body and his face.
He's a little blurred but Kurt knows it's his fucking eyes.
They're not fixing their shit together yet.
"Not speaking? Did someone steal your tongue?" This voice sounds fucking creepy, seriously.
Kurt nods and apparently the boy can see him too in the dark.
"What's your name?"
Kurt has no idea why but it sounds more like a threat than an actual question. It's frightening and he just wants to run away. Please, he's mentally begging, out of here, I just want to get out of here.
"You don't want to be helpful, that's weird. Aren't you scared or something? That's how it's supposed to work."
Kurt blinks furiously until he can finally see the boy standing in front of him.
Too bad because when he does it, he feels like his heart is stopping into his chest.
It's the fucking man who's shot on the crowd. He can practically remember his chest covered in the blood of the people he has killed and mostly, his eyes. He's in the room with a killer. He's in the room with a person that isn't afraid to spill the blood of innocent people (whenever you shoot in a crowd you could accidentally hit innocent people, it's insane, he could have died too).
His hair is slightly light and his eyes are green – at least that's what it seems, with the light being week and artificial, he can't be sure. His body is well built up, he's tall and strong, and if he weren't a killer, he'd eventually look like a God. Well, he's sort of an Ade maybe.
"Are you okay?" The boy asks. "Not that I care about it, but you know … you can't tell me who you are and everything I need to know from you if you're not okay."
There's something awkwardly threatening in his voice and Kurt really doesn't want things to get too dangerous.
"I'm fine." He snaps, trying not to sound too scratchy because you never know what a killer could do. His body immediately starts to tremble on the chair, fingers curling in fear and breathing become suddenly complicated.
"What's your name?"
The second time the boy repeats the question, he's arching on his knees to bow in front of him, so that he can look at him in the eyes. Kurt swallows but he's suddenly so much aware about how important it is for his life to answer this question.
"Kurt." He murmurs, still pained and terrified, but trying not to show too much how his body is shaking on the chair.
"Kurt-who?"
Kurt startles when he feels a fucking hand stroking his thigh, covered by his black tight pants. He hates the soft almost invisible pattern of the material because he can almost feel the strong thumb brushing on his skin. His throat gets dry, his chest is bumping, and he's panting.
He feels like he suddenly wants to cry and scream. What if he's about to die?
"K-Kurt …" He stops.
He can't say his full name.
He's Burt Hummel's son and his dad might get into trouble if he does.
His chest is aching and the boy's thumb is pressing harder on his thigh. It's just frightening the way this soft caress is meant to be deadly. If he's not going to answer … well, he can read it into these light eyes: it's like there's nothing but death in the way they're directly staring into his own.
"Kurt … Anderson."
Fuck.
He has no idea why he has said that but it's not like there's any link with Blaine, isn't it? Anderson is such a common name and no one would ever think about finding out about his family. No one would ever think about Coop, right? He's not that famous. There are too many Anderson in the world.
"Is it true?" The boy asks, his middle finger shifting softly along his thigh.
Please, Kurt's thinking, Someone get me out of here.
"Y-yeah." He murmurs, swallowing when he realizes he's fucking babbling too much to sound even slightly honest.
"You were there, so I'm supposed to think you're relative with a congressman or something …" He answers, rolling his eyes at Kurt. "Also, you look pretty nervous, fail, and I'm not stupid. Do you think I'm stupid?"
There's a wicked twisted look on his face. He's sick and Kurt suddenly feels like death's coming for him.
"I don't." Kurt murmurs, just because he fears any eventual reaction if it takes him too much time to answer. "I don't think any of that."
"Good." The boy smirks and Kurt finds him a little softer than he has been seconds before. "So, just tell me what your real name is."
Kurt tries hard not to swallow and he nods softly and briefly. This time he's going to pull on a good act, he's in fucking NYADA.
"Kurt Anderson." He repeats, determined not to tell his real name. "That's it. I'm just being nervous, I don't know where I am, who you are and-"
"Fine, Kurt." The boy cuts in like he wants to prove him he has no interest in whatever he has to say or rather how he feels. "Tell me, what where you doing at the lecture?" He asks and Kurt bites his lower lip, feeling both of his hands on his thigh.
The boy's eyes are still fixed into his and Kurt feels like shivering for unknown reasons.
He doesn't answer.
"Look, Kurt." The boy must notice. "I'm not going to hurt you right now, but it's not going to be the same every time we do this, especially if you keep acting like this." He spits out and Kurt immediately wonders Everytime we're doing what?. "I'm going to leave you alone now, so you can rest your head and your body, and eventually decide if you're going to be collaborative or not. I hope you choose you won't, because you look like the perfect fake-innocent boy who secretly wants to be tortured."
Kurt feels like there's an innuendo or something in there, but it's not like he's got his mind settled up to talk about being submissive, sex kinks or whatever the guy means.
"Who … who are you?" He asks softly, like he doesn't want to think about what's gonna happen if he decides he doesn't want to be collaborative. Shit, he just wants to protect his family.
"Not of your business." The guy tells him and he shows him a fake smile.
Kurt breathes in slowly.
"O-okay …" He murmurs, finally pulling his gaze away and staring at a random point on his thigh, where the boy's fingers are still pressed.
"Good, so I'm going to leave you now." He tells him, lifting up and Kurt's finally relieved when the boy puts his hands off of his thigh (well, there's also a slightly and awkward part of him who feels cold from the missing contact; it's so strange). "Have fun playing with you mind. If you get mad before our next conversation, it's going to be like a lot easier."
Kurt has to bit is lower lip again to keep the Fuck you that was coming out of his mouth. He just swallows again instead.
"See you soon, Kurt."
For some reasons, his name, coming out of this mouth, sounds bad and evil. Well, maybe it sounds good, he's got a nice voice, but still, it must be the situation. When the boy shows him his back, Kurt can't help but lift his gaze from the pavement to stare at the muscular shoulders and the modeled back right before his eyes.
God, what does he think he's doing?
He's fucking tied to a chair and the guy walking of this door, the guy that wants to know about his name – probably to know if he can use him to threaten some politician's family – is the guy who killed who knows how many people during the shooting and he's fucking staring at his back? What's wrong with him seriously?
Well, whatever it is, he's going to have time to think about it, because he's tied, blocked in this room and he has no idea when the guy's going to come back.
He feels the pain and the fear ache into his chest again, burning with strenuous fire.
His family doesn't know where he is.
Blaine and Rachel don't know where he is.
What if he's going to die? What if he's never going to see them again?
Will anybody ever known about what happened to him?
Is this about mafia or something?
He's just so scared, he's shaking again.
He doesn't know the boy he has just met, the one that hasn't even told him his name, was fated to kidnap him.