Warnings: Not much for this part, talk of slavery and noncon. That's really it.
A/N: So sorry I didn't update yesterday, this chapter was just being a bitch to write, but I still posted this weekend, so yay me.
Word Count: ~2,000
Blaine startled when he woke the next morning and Kurt was sitting in bed beside him. He was leaning against the headboard with a textbook in his lap and a highlighter tapping his lips. Blaine shifted carefully to look at the clock on the bedside table, noting that it was later than he usually woke up and long past when Kurt would be gone.
Blaine's heart pounded as he thought of all the reasons for Kurt staying in today. Like Kurt finally deciding to stop being nice and just taking what was his. Blaine forced his breath to slow, sitting up slowly and shifting onto his knees to wait for whatever Kurt wanted him to do.
"Good morning, Blaine," he said, not looking at him, "you can go about your morning as usual, I have to finish this chapter, then I thought we'd go get breakfast together, how does that sound?" Kurt's brow was furrowed as he highlighted sections of his book as he spoke.
Blaine nodded dumbly, climbing out of bed and heading to the bathroom. He used Kurt's products, as little as possible since he had never really asked, but so far Kurt hadn't told him he couldn't, so he hoped he wouldn't be angry. He showered quickly and brushed through his curls, frowning as they flopped into eyes, he really needed a haircut.
Blaine cautiously left the bathroom with the towel clutched tightly around his waist. Kurt was standing in front of his open closet door, smoothing his waistcoat with his hands. He looked up from his reflection when he heard Blaine's steps stall and shift awkwardly by the bed. Kurt hadn't laid out clothes for him to pick from yet. Blaine's breath left him a little shakily, heart pounding at the possible implications of this.
"I thought I'd let you pick out your own outfit today," Kurt called from the closet, watching him carefully, "We need to get you some clothes, maybe we'll do that later today or tomorrow, but until then you can pick from any of mine."
Blaine approached Kurt carefully, stepping past him into the closet. Everything was perfectly organized, jeans neatly folded and sorted into piles based on both tightness and color. The shirts were the same, all of them hanging in groups, button ups, t-shirts, polos, tank tops, and Kurt's suits had an entire rack to themselves as well. Blaine had never seen such an abundance of clothes so meticulously placed in their exact spot. He wondered where his own clothes would go, if Kurt would find a way to give him his own section, or if he'd be relegated to the chest of drawers, where he assumed all of the sweats he'd been wearing lived because he didn't see a sign of any sort of comfort wear in the closet.
Blaine ran his hand along the jeans, missing his own skinny jeans and knowing he likely wouldn't fit in Kurt's. He was used to his own jeans being painted on, but Kurt was leaner than he was and Blaine doubted he'd be able to get them over his thighs, let alone his ass. Instead he pulled out a pair a dark violet straight legs and headed to the shirts where he selected a light grey button up and a black sweatervest.
He was heading back to the mainroom when the accesories caught his eye. He paused for a moment before carefully selecting a black, purple, and green striped bowtie.
"Underwear is in the chest of drawers," Kurt told him as he was lacing up his doc martens, "the ones on the left are yours, right are mine, the divide should be clear."
Blaine nodded even though Kurt wasn't looking at him, setting his clothes carefully on the bed and going to the chest of drawers. The divide was very clear, Kurt's stacked vertically while Blaine's were horizontal. Blaine grabbed a simple black pair of boxer briefs and went back to the bed. He dressed quickly, having to roll up the ankles of the pants a few times so they didn't cover his feet. He was tying his bowtie in the mirror when Kurt approached him.
"If I had known you had such good style, I'd have been letting you pick your clothes all week," Kurt praised.
Blaine's mouth quirked in a small smile, but he didn't say anything.
"You need shoes though," Kurt mumbled, slipping into the closet and coming back with a pair of black boat shoes with white lacing around the edges, "they might be a little big, but they'll be good for now." He went to the chest of drawers, finding a pair of peds and giving them to Blaine as well with a smile and a "to show off your adorable ankles."
Blaine pursed his lips, not sure how his ankles were adorable, but that didn't change the fact that he wore peds all the time because he hated for his socks to be seen, so he slipped them on and stepped into the shoes.
"You look positively dapper today, Blaine!" Carole said when they entered the kitchen. He blushed, giving her a small shrug. "And I love your curls, they're absolutely stunning, though you might need a trim soon if you want people to be able to see those gorgeous eyes of yours," she tugged on a strand of his hair that was resting just above his eyeline and he tensed. Her smile fell a little but she just plastered it back on and patted his cheek. "I'll have breakfast ready for you two in a just a couple of minutes."
Blaine watched her go and then looked around the rest of the kitchen that was… completely deserted. There was not another soul in sight, slave or otherwise. It had made sense for it to be so empty the previous night, but now it was strange that Carole would be all alone. Surely there were other people that needed to eat, and she couldn't be expected to cook for them all by herself.
"What is it?" Kurt asked making Blaine jump.
He turned to him and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"You look like you want to ask something, what is it?" he explained, leading them over to the same counter they'd sat at the night before.
Blaine sat and thought about whether he should answer or not. Carmichael had said he wasn't supposed to speak unless asked a direct question and, well, Kurt had asked.
"Where is everyone?"
Kurt looked around the kitchen, "Oh, the other slaves?" Blaine nodded, "Probably eating. It's past when the council usually has breakfast, so they're all free till lunch. Carole stuck around to eat with us."
"Is she a slave too? I thought she was in charge."
Kurt smiled, "She is in charge, but yeah, she's a slave too. Her and her son couldn't pay their taxes, they were just going to take him but she refused to let that happen so they took them both and luckily they were both sold to the castle, Carole in the kitchen and Finn in labor work."
Blaine frowned, shifting uncomfortably.
"It's horrible, I know, you can be a dollar short and lose a child, I wish we could change the laws but there are certain people that make it… difficult."
Blaine looked at him curiously, "You… want to change the slave laws?"
"Shocking isn't it?" Kurt said with a sad smile.
"Well, I am kind of your sex slave, so…"
Kurt looked down guiltily, twisting his hands together on the counter, "Blaine, I-"
"And breakfast is served," Carole said happily sliding plates in front of them and sitting herself on the opposite side of the counter from them.
Blaine looked down, stomach grumbling happily at the sight of german pancakes topped with powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.
"This look's amazing, Carole, thank you," Kurt said, giving her a weak smile.
"My pleasure, sweetie," she said as she started to cut into her own food. It was awkwardly silent for a few minutes as they ate, Blaine burning through his plate faster than anyone. It was a good thing Carole had doubled his portions.
Carole looked like she wanted to break the ice but she wasn't sure what would be okay to ask. Blaine's stay in the castle hadn't been all that pleasant so far, and bringing up his parents and his previous life would be touchy no matter what, whether Blaine was torn away from them thanks to financial problems, or if they'd willingly sold him. There wasn't a subject she could breach easily that wouldn't potentially upset him, so they continued to eat quietly.
Blaine finished first, pushing his plate away and folding his hands in front of him.
"I thought I'd take you on a tour of the castle next," Kurt said, "show you around so you know where everything is…"
"Actually," Blaine said quietly, "I'm kind of tired, I'd like to just… go back to the room, if that's okay."
Kurt frowned, he'd just woken up, he couldn't already be tired again…
"His body is still recovering from the starvation, Kurt," Carole said gently, "While he is getting the food he needs now, he'll still get tired easier for the next few days. A long walk wouldn't be ideal at the moment."
"Right… yeah, of course," Kurt gave Blaine a shaky smile, "we can go back and watch a movie, or something."
Blaine's brow scrunched in confusion, "You don't have a TV."
Kurt chuckled, "I have something better than a TV."
"What's your favourite colour?"
They were sitting on the couch in Kurt's room, watching Chicago on the screen that descended from Kurt's ceiling to rest in front of the piano.
Blaine looked at Kurt carefully, "What?"
"What's your favourite colour?" Kurt repeated, turning to face him.
"Why?"
Kurt shrugged, "Just curious."
Blaine bit his lip, looking at the screen and picking at his cuticles, "Red," he said with nervous swallow.
"Thank you, Blaine," Kurt said with a pleased smile.
"What's yours?" Blaine asked, pressing his lips together.
Kurt's grin widened, "Blue. What's your favourite scent?"
"Raspberry," Blaine answered, almost immediately this time, even though he still looked confused. "What's your favourite food?"
"Cheesecake," the firmness with which Kurt answered made Blaine giggle, but he quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide it. They continued in that fashion for some time, asking question back and forth, until the credits had finished, the DVD menu screen was set on repeat, and they were both sitting crosslegged on the couch, only a few inches apart. Blaine was relaxed and smiling, no longer trying to hide it, there were even a few moments when he'd doubled over with laughter, almost landing himself in Kurt's lap as he did so, and he didn't even seem fazed when he was able to sit back up again.
And then Kurt apparently stepped over a line.
"What's your dream job?"
Blaine's smile fell almost immediately, and he shifted in his seat, arms folding loosely across his stomach. "Why does that matter?" he asked quietly.
Kurt stumbled over his words, "I- it's just a question."
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter, because I can't do it."
Kurt licked his lips anxiously, "I didn't mean to-"
"I had a dream," Blaine's arms tightened around himself, "I did, had it since I was four. But I can't have my dream anymore, the most I can hope for out of life now, is that you won't someday stop being a gentleman and use me for my intended purpose-"
"Blaine, I will never-"
"or that you won't get bored of me, and sell me to someone that will. My only dream from now on, is that I will survive to a normal age and manage to keep a part of myself in tact. There is no dream job for me, no hope for a better future, there is just survival, because as nice as this seems," he jerked his chin at Kurt, "I'd be a fool to hope for it to last."
"Blaine, I'm so-"
Blaine stood quickly, backing away from Kurt. "I'm gonna take a nap," he mumbled, quickly walking to the bed and climbing under the covers, leaving Kurt to sit there and figure out how to explain to Blaine that none of his fears were going to come true, and mostly, how to get him to believe it.