Disclaimer: I do not own or write for Glee. I do not get paid to do this.
I haven't really seen any Steampunk!Klaine anywhere so I felt that it was my duty to create it. Sorry if it's a miserable failure. It's a continuous story, and I'll update as often as I can. If you like this be sure to check out my tumblr (spankthebatchild) and my other stories. Please review. They inspire me to write faster!
"Hey, are you alright?"
Kurt slowly opened his eyes. A part of him couldn't believe that those thugs had finally left him alone. The image that he stared up at was blurry at first. Kurt figured that he had hit his head particularly hard of the cobblestone sidewalk.
The man standing above him wore a tan waist coat with a thin watch chain dipping into his darker brown trench coat. His white shirt underneath was unbuttoned at the collar. He had dark curls that flopped sloppily on his forehead. Despite his obvious distaste for neatness, the man was highly attractive. Kurt scolded himself for having thoughts like that. It was thoughts like that that had gotten him into his current predicament.
"Are you alright?" the man repeated. Kurt groaned in response. "Here let me help you up." He gently pulled Kurt to his feet. Once he was standing, Kurt remembered his manners.
"Thank you," he said with gratitude. "I'd better be going." He started to walk, but he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He tried to hide his limp, but Kurt's friendly stranger noticed it immediately.
"My friends can help you with your limp," he offered. "Let me take you to our apartment. You look hurt." Kurt chuckled.
"I don't trust myself going to stranger's apartments anymore," he joked somberly.
"Oh don't worry!" the stranger pleaded. "You'll be safe. I'll keep the door open the entire time so you'd have an easy escape if you needed one."
Kurt considered the man in front of him. He seemed friendly enough. After all, he had helped Kurt up while others passed him by. The look on his face was a look of obvious concern, and he claimed that he could help Kurt's limp. Kurt assumed that it would be difficult to get home in his current condition anyway.
"How far is it?" Kurt heard himself asking. He bit his lip in pain as he put weight on his leg again.
"My coach is right here," the stranger said gesturing to the street. Kurt was astounded. Not only had this stranger helped him, but he had left his coach just to do it.
The curly haired stranger helped Kurt into the coach where he fell comfortably into the leather seats. He put a hand to his forehead. He had such a pounding headache. A concussion was all Kurt needed.
"Does it hurt?" the stranger asked as he sat down opposite Kurt.
"Yeah," Kurt admitted.
"We may have something for that too," the stranger said. His eyes glazed over as if he was trying to take inventory of all the remedies that he had. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes came to rest on Kurt again.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized. Kurt cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "I haven't introduced myself. My name's Blaine Anderson." He offered an outstretched hand to Kurt who took it in earnest.
"Kurt Hummel," he said introducing himself.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Hummel." So this man – Blaine Anderson – did have manners despite his untidy hair and shirt.
Kurt looked out the window and tried to keep track of each street they went by. He wanted to be able to figure out how to get himself home if the need arose. It wasn't hard to do though. Blaine's apartment wasn't far at all. They took two left turns and stopped in front of a town house type building. Blaine leapt out of coach and reached out his hand for Kurt to take. Kurt gladly took it and stepped out of the coach and back into the overcast light. Blaine tipped the driver who drove off in the opposite direction.
He led Kurt up to the black door with a brass number 47 on it. Above the doorknob, there was a metal rectangle with little buttons on it. Each button had a number. Kurt would have liked to study the control panel more closely, but Blaine began pushing buttons. Each time he pressed one, a little chime rang out. He pressed six numbers that Kurt see, and there was a particularly low chime. Blaine twisted the knob and heard a satisfying click
"It's a lock," Kurt said in admiration.
"My own invention. My housemates invent most of the other things, but I put something together now and then, " Blaine answered. Kurt's awe obviously pleased Blaine because he the grin on his face grew larger. He pushed the door open and led Kurt in.
Kurt's face was immediately hit by a mixture of steam and smoke. He coughed and sputtered and tried to ignore the burning in his eyes as he attempted to get a better look inside. Things were whirring and whizzing inside. When the fog cleared out the door, Kurt could see machines everywhere. He couldn't tell what most of them did, but most of them seemed to run like clockwork. He was immediately entranced by all the mechanics around him. Blaine gently pushed him in a little farther and shut the door behind himself.
"Quinn!" he called up the stairs. "Open a window! There's smoke everywhere!" A timid voice answered him, and Blaine started to run up the stairs, gesturing to Kurt for him to follow.
At the top of the stairs, Kurt met a pretty woman about Blaine's age. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun. It had the looks of previously being well made with braids wrapping around it, but after hours of work, it was coming out in several places. Kurt had only one other woman in his life who dressed like her. She wore a corset over a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Instead of a modest skirt, the woman was wearing tight striped trousers. Her appearance reminded Kurt greatly of someone who brought tears to his eyes when he thought of her.
"This is Quinn," Blaine said introducing her – obviously unaware of Kurt's sudden burst of emotions. "Her girlfriend, Rachel, is out buying groceries right now. Quinn, this is Kurt."
"Pleasure to meet you, Kurt," Quinn greeted warmly. Kurt expected to take her hand and kiss the way he had been taught, but Quinn took his hand in a firm handshake instead.
Girlfriend, Kurt thought. This place already seemed safer than anywhere else he had ever been. Blaine explained that they were inventors, and that the three of them lived in the town house together. It had three floors. The first floor was a kitchen and small living area. Blaine lived on the second floor. Quinn and Rachel lived on the third. The basement was kept especially for inventing. Kurt could hardly believe that there was a specific place for inventing in the household. Metal scraps and gears were spread all over the house when he got the grand tour.
"Would you like something to drink?" Blaine asked when they had finished the tour. Kurt thankfully accepting, Blaine led him to the kitchen.
A small brunette woman was already unloading groceries when they got there. She, unlike Quinn, was wearing a simple navy blue dress. Her hair was in neat waves flowing out of her bun. Also unlike Quinn's escaped hairs, these seemed intentional.
"You must be Rachel," Kurt said offering his hand. "My name is Kurt Hummel."
"A friend of Blaine's?" she questioned giving Blaine a hard look. At that moment, Quinn floated into the room as if she was magnetically attracted to her girlfriend. They quickly kissed before Rachel spoke again.
"Quinn," she started. "You put the groceries away, please. I have to change into a shorter skirt. This poufy monstrosity is driving me insane. Blaine, when I come back you're going to have to tell me all about your friend." She flew away before anyone could say anything else.
Blaine took out a china saucer and cup for Kurt. Kurt expected him to simply brew some tea, but Blaine did something highly unexpected. He reached into another cabinet and pulled out a strange looking tea kettle. He filled it with water, and it was then that Kurt noticed that it had two lids. Blaine put down the first lid to reveal a sort of strainer. He put some tea leaves on the strainer and closed the second lid. Then, he turned a dial on the side of the kettle and waited. Within minutes, Kurt had a cup of freshly brewed tea.
"That was incredible," Kurt gushed.
"One of Rachel's," Blaine said. "She was tired of waiting for her tea. You'll find that a lot of Rachel's inventions have to do with being tired of something." Kurt smiled into his tea. He liked these people.
"Let me help with your leg," Quinn said when he finished. She rummaged around in the sitting room for a moment before returning with a strange contraption. It was two metal rods connected by a hinge with leather straps on each rod.
"I'm sure it's nothing if not sprained," Blaine assured him. "But this is good just in case. It will allow your leg time to recover while allowing you full control of your leg."
Quinn bent down and began to roll up Kurt's pant leg to attach the straps to his leg. Kurt blushed and started to object, but Quinn ignored him.
"Oh please," she laughed. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I like women's legs."
That shut Kurt up quickly. He let Quinn finish her work and tried standing when she had finished. He could put more weight on his leg now that he had the support of the rods. She asked if he still had a headache. When he assured her that he didn't, she agreed that it meant that he hadn't sustained a concussion. Kurt glanced up at a clock and realized that it was much later than he had thought.
"I'd better be going," Kurt said apologetically. Blaine led him to the door, and on his way out Kurt caught sight of Rachel. She was wearing a green top now, with a white skirt. The skirt was so short that Kurt was sure that she had adjusted it herself. It was above the knees, but it seemed to be what Rachel was more comfortable in. Already, she seemed more relaxed than the frazzled yet put together woman Kurt had met in the kitchen. She was standing on the stairs, sharing a kiss with Quinn over the railing.
"Let me walk you home," Blaine insisted. "Is it far?"
It wasn't far- just a few streets away. They walked in mostly silence which Kurt was grateful for. He feared that if Blaine spoke he would ask him what had happened to him earlier that day. Kurt didn't trust anyone enough to tell them about it, let alone himself to talk about it. Blaine didn't press him, though. He seemed to understand that the matter was private. They soon arrived at an apartment building.
"This is it," Kurt said when they stopped in front of the building.
"Is there anyone I can safely hand you over to?" Blaine asked.
"Blaine," Kurt groaned. "I'm an adult man. I'm no teenage girl. You can go home." Blaine looked unconvinced. Kurt rolled his eyes. "My sister's right inside. You've got nothing to worry about."
Blaine still seemed a little dubious, but the promise of an older sister calmed him a bit. He shook Kurt's hand one last time begging him to visit sometime. Kurt watched as the attractive stranger with the messy curly black hair walked back down the street. He went inside the building and into his empty apartment. It had been years since he had a sister.