Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
Summary: Blaine Anderson watches Kurt for twelve years before he says hello.
SupernaturalAU/Vampire!blaine
Chapter 3: Inertia Creeps
Clearly
Out of body experience interferes
And dreams of flying I fit nearly
Surrounds me though I get lonely
Slowly
Blaine starts venturing outside of Ohio to find out what he can about Kurt Hummel. He can't go far - he has to make it there and back to Lima before sunrise in case something happens at the Hummel's- but he visits cities within that radius: Cincinnati, Cleveland, Indianapolis, even Chicago if he's in the mood for a run. He staggers the visits enough so that he still checks into Jesse's clubs in Columbus as much as he can, so as not to raise any suspicion.
He thought he'd been doing a good job until he comes home to find Jesse St. James sitting at his kitchen table, reading Blaine's copy of Let the Great World Spin.
"Ah, you're finally home. I was beginning to fret I'd have to stay the day," he says with a charming smile, folding over the edge of a page and closing the book.
"What are you doing here?" It falls out of Blaine's mouth before he can stop himself. He's winded from the journey - three hours on foot to Chicago - and his visit is unexpected and unwanted.
Jesse looks him square in the eyes, his jaw clenching as he smirks. "Not exactly how I would greet my employer."
"Technically, I'm just returning a favor. "
Jesse is unamused by the banter. "Yes, well, you aren't very good at it." He stands, clasping his hand behind his back as he walks the perimeter of the table. He casts a look at the painting on Blaine's wall. "Sargent. Original?"
Blaine doesn't answer. He's not in the mood to banter while Jesse dances around the point. The other vampire seems to catch on because his face suddenly looses its pleasantness. He's cold and stiff as he spits out, "You should be a little more considerate, Blaine Anderson."
Blaine interrupts him in a rough voice, willing the other vampire to get to the point. "What are you here for?"
Jesse's eyes are completely dark. By this time he's seething. "I just want you to do your fucking job. Watch this kid until I tell you I don't need you. And then I want you to leave. I don't want to hear that you've been to Cincinnati and Pittsburgh and most recently Chicago-" Blaine clenches his jaw "-, snooping around in business that isn't yours."
"I haven't been 'snooping'. You left me in fucking Podunk, Ohio for eight years and you don't think I'd get bored? I went to enjoy-" Jesse is in front of him in a second, both hands roughly gripping his shirt.
"Don't lie to me. I know what you've been asking about in Columbus. You're a fool if you think I don't have eyes anywhere else. If I hear that you've been out prying around again, we'll just call off this arrangement and I'll go see how Wesley Kim is getting along. Or David Thompson. I haven't quite rinsed that taste out of my mouth."
Blaine tries to keep a stoic face, locking eyes with Jesse. It takes a moment for the other vampire to calm himself, before he unclenches his fists from Blaine's shirt and straightens out the wrinkles amiably.
"I enjoyed talking with you. Might want to get that painting insured, it's a real treasure." With that he pats Blaine twice on the cheek as he steps around him, heading toward the door. It clicks softly shut behind him.
Not for the first time, Blaine wonders what he's gotten himself into.
Burt Hummel comes to Gerard's when Kurt is fifteen.
Blaine's hazel eyes flicker to the door as it's pushed open and the bell tinkles a welcoming. The vampire is behind the bar, filling a pitcher of beer as Burt ambles over and takes a seat. He takes his baseball cap off and places it in front of him, lacing his fingers together on the mahogany bar top and glancing around. His shoulders are hunched like he realizes he's out of place.
Right at that moment, Blaine has no idea what to do. He's not terrified by any means, just generally surprised by the man's presence. Surprised to see him here, now, without Blaine having sensed him; but also surprised that he hasn't been here before. No offense to Burt, but he fits the clientele base to a 'T'.
Burt looks up and their eyes meet momentarily. He raises a hand and raises his eyebrows and asks for a mug in a gruff and worn out voice.
Blaine gives a curt nod and fills the glass before placing it in front of him. But instead of moving away, on to the next costumer, he just stands before Burt Hummel and takes him in.
It's weird, knowing that he first saw Burt eight years ago. He's wearing flannel like usual. He's gruff and large and practically the opposite of his son. Blaine knows so much about him and so little.
Burt takes a few drinks and purposefully ignores Blaine for a couple moments. When he realizes the bartender isn't leaving he takes a long draught and sweeps his eyes up to meet him.
"Can I help you, kid?" he asks.
Blaine hesitates for a moment "You seem worn out."
Burt just laughs, rolls his eyes, takes another drink. Blaine falls into the role of attentive bartender as Burt begins to speak. "You wouldn't believe it. Six cars lined up at the shop and my head mechanic is MIA."
A smile tugs at Blaine's lips. Burt's hands are large and calloused from hard work, and he waves them animatedly about him as he elaborates on his day. His story sounds the same as all the others but Blaine feels it, deep in his stomach, that there's something Burt has that the other bar patrons don't.
All of a sudden Burt stops. He 's down to the bottom of his cup and he stares at the last bit of amber liquid with a blank expression. There's a pain there that Blaine can't describe. Burt's the kind of guy that should have a twinkle in his eye but right now it's barely hanging on.
"Aw, look at me runnin' my mouth like you don't have work to get back to. Shoulda stopped me before I got this motor mouth goin', you know?" Burt lets out a good-natured laugh.
Blaine refills Burt's glass. "I'd like to listen."
Blaine definitely doesn't mention Burt to Jesse. He's done a superb job at staying away from the Hummels so far and the vampire is fully aware that Jesse would not appreciate his presence in Burt's life. Especially now that that presence is becoming a bit of a staple.
Burt comes in once or twice a week without fail and orders a beer from Blaine and sits at the bar, unloading his thoughts on the vampire. While at first he stuck strictly to work related subjects, Blaine has begun wheedling in questions about Burt's home life. It's a Monday night a few weeks after this all started when Blaine drops the bomb:
"Do you have any kids, Burt?" Blaine asks, trying to sound casual. They've been on a first name basis for a few visits now. It seems Burt is endearing himself to Blaine as well.
The older Hummel goes quiet, sighing into his glass. There's a smile on his face that warms Blaine like a fire. "Yeah, I got a kid. A son. Name's Kurt"
Blaine pushes a little more, "Ah, how old is he?"
"He'll be sixteen in a month." Burt just laughs to himself as if he's recalling an amusing memory. Blaine tilts his head, resting his elbows on the bar and holding his head in his hands. "He's a great kid, you know? Great kid..." Burt trails off and Blaine risks his luck.
"Is he all right?" What the vampire wants to ask is if there is something wrong with him, anything special about him? Have you noticed any quirks? But Blaine is approaching this subject gingerly. He still can't help the thrill rolling up his spine. For all the time he's spent in Lima, watching Kurt Hummel like a hawk, the boy is still a mystery to him.
"Oh, no, no everything's fine. He's just... he's such a great kid and... life just has a funny way of knocking people down, ya know?" Blaine nods in agreement, trying to keep it objective. But he's on the edge of his seat, waiting for Burt to finish another drink and hoping he'll continue. He catches the sigh of relief in his throat as Burt continues.
"First his mom dies, and then he gets attacked by some pyscho-" Burt is clenching the handle of his mug when he swivels his wide, angry eyes at Blaine. The irony is astounding. Blaine feels a stab of guilt at this: this lie he's set up. He's playing the part of consoling bartender, serving up drinks and advice, and Burt Hummel is being strung along, spilling his secrets to Blaine like he's a friend. The reality makes his stomach sink. He's the real psycho here, isn't he? And Burt has no idea. "He's been pushed around since he's a kid and he just puts on this front like he's okay with it and I just- I can't stand to see him like that." Blaine is surprised when Burt's voice cracks and he as to take a moment to collect himself. His eyes are glazed with tears but the man doesn't let them fall. He instead laughs uneasily, trying to shake it off."
"But look at me, prattling on about that. You got any, Blaine?"
Blaine wants to hear more and stammers out an eloquent "Uh...?"
"Any little squirts running around? Kids, Blaine."
Oh, well, shit. Blaine was definitely not expecting that question turned on him.
"Oh, um, no. No kids. I'm single."
Burt looks kind of surprised.
"Handsome fella like you hasn't found a girl? There's no hope for any of us."
But Blaine has a had a hunch about Kurt from the time he was little. And the next words out of mouth are said in a rushed and vain hope that he might learn something new about Kurt.
"I'm gay, actually" he says easily enough. In all honesty, he hates to label himself like that. Something about being a vampire has made him realize how fluid sexuality actually is. It probably has to do with the fact that blood is blood and he's fucked all kinds of people for it. No matter that he prefers the taste of men.
He gives Burt a few minutes to digest this and looks up at the man. Blaine can't really decipher the look he's getting – Burt looks like he's inhaled something distasteful.
"You're... gay?"
Blaine is regretting this decision. He'd thought with how, frankly, flamboyant Kurt is Burt would be okay with the subject. The older Hummel must've misread Blaine's face because all of a sudden he's putting his hands up in a peacemaking gesture and fumbling around for words
"Shit, I must look like some asshole. God, no, sorry, it's just...my son, Kurt. He's been having some trouble at school lately. I think that whole...thing...might have something to do with it.
"Thing?"
"That whole bein' gay thing."
The confirmation is oddly comforting to the vampire. The look on Burt's face seems to say the same; like a great truth has been spoken aloud and a weight has lifted off of both their chests.
"What kind of trouble?"
"Kids at school, I think- bullies. I know he keeps an extra pair of clothes in his locker 'cause half the time he comes home in a completely different outfit. He tells me a real 'fashionista'"- he says this word with a roll of his eyes and air quotations - "has day and evening looks or somethin' but I found some of his clothes stuffed under his bed. Looks like they had kool-aid spilled all over them. Kurt's clean -a friggin' neat freak, I don't know where he gets it- and I know he wouldn't let anyone near his clothes with that stuff. And he's been quieter lately, not talking to me about Glee stuff. And then I get this call-" Burt stops, looking at Blaine like he's biting his tongue. "I get this call, some jackass callin' my kid a- a fag. And that's my kid he's talking about."
Blaine feels the anger in Burt. He also feels a swell of fondness for the dad, whose fists are clenched and shaking at the very idea that someone would wish any kind of ill will toward his son. Blaine understands that Burt is at a loss of what to do. The man is frustrated; tortured. He looks up at Blaine like he wants him to say something.
And Blaine is by no means accustomed to being bullied. While he was still human, homosexuality had been a taboo enough subject that he'd completely disregarded the fluttering in his stomach when he saw a party of handsome army guys grabbing lunch or his neighbor out mowing his yard, shirt cast off on the front porch. He was too naive then to realize what it was about. And the words 'gay' or 'straight' were so rarely thrown around in the vampire world that he'd forgotten how cruel people could be.
But Blaine feels like he has to say something and the words spill quickly from his mouth. "It'll get better, Burt. Tell him it gets better."
Burt nods his head and smiles, whispers a thank-you. Blaine wishes he could do more.
Blaine is in Columbus on Kurt's sixteenth birthday. More specifically, he's got his fangs in the neck of a twenty-something Spanish boy at the back of The Wounded Spirit. At street level, it looks like a small and quirky themed pub but with the right flash of fangs, a vampire would fine more on the menu than fine wine and spirits.
He's been restless lately. And frustrated. He tries to dismiss the cause of it but the way Kurt's been feeling over the past few weeks weeds its way into the back of his head, filling his dreams with lockers and grape flavored slushies; insults and lightning-quick retorts. He lets the heady scent of the boy writhing beneath him engulf him, trying to get the smell of Kurt out of his nose. Blaine bites down harder in frustration when it doesn't work. The human moans, wrapping his legs around Blaine and arching off of the couch. He's thrown back to pale skin and blue eyes and-
Blaine shoves off the boy, fangs snapping away. He grabs a towel from the coffee table and wipes his mouth quickly. The human seems dazed, reaching up to his neck. His eyes are lustful when he looks at Blaine.
"Why'd you stop?" he whines. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
Blaine just rolls his eyes. No, it's not. It never is anymore. He throws the blood speckled towel at the boy, who tries too late to catch it.
The vampire steps out of the room, slamming it behind him. A couple is giggling and kissing their way down the dim hallway, on their way to one of the other private rooms, no doubt. Blaine steps passed half a dozen doors before pushing open the double doors at the end of the hallway that lead him back into the main bar area.
He heads straight for the door, more frustrated than he was when he got here. The night is still young and hopefully he can make it back in time to check on Kurt before the sun rises.
As he's grabbing his coat from the coat track, he catches the eye of a woman sitting at the bar. She raises her glass of blood colored wine and toasts him, beckoning him with her eyes. She's gorgeous, all legs and dark skin and long, wavy brunette hair. It's obvious what she wants. He can smell the lust rolling off her in waves. She stands and walks his way, hips swaying to the beat of the music. He slings his coat over his arm and he reaches for his hat but she gets to it first. She takes it from the rack and places it on her own head flirtatiously, eyes traveling up his body before their eyes meet.
"I haven't seen you around before, handsome," she says, low, breathy, sultry as she twines her hands around the back of his neck, pressing her body against him.
"Sorry, you're lovely but I'm not interested."
She throws her head back in a laugh and he sees the fangs there, but also the ridges of her collar bone; the dip of her dress. "I believe you're the first bashful bloodsucker I've ever met."
He just smiles at her, disentangling himself from her arms and plucking his Stetson off her head. He's tired and wants to leave. "And it has been a pleasure," he says, turning for the door.
"I think you're more interested than you know," she calls. He pauses and turns to let her down again but her body language has changed. She's no longer a seductive temptress. She has a smirk at her lips that seems to say she knows something he doesn't and her eyebrow is raised. "You're looking for something, aren't you?"
It takes him a moment to recover from the shock of her words. His mind starts racing, thinking back on years of questions and searches to no avail. He he'd stopped asking after Jesse came to visit him. Is this night, such a very insubstantial night, really the one he's been waiting for all this time?
"I might be," he answers incredulously. She's stepped closer to him again, reaching out and clasping his arm, tracing her manicured fingernails across the skin.
"Something like a secret?" Her eyes flicker from his wrist to his eyes, peering at him from under thick, dark lashes. He nods, hoping that this secret involves a brunette boy with mesmerizing eyes.
"Yes, something like that."
She drops his hand quickly, reaching to the coat rack and plucking a black pea coat from one of the hangers. "Come with me."
She's out the door before Blaine finds time to protest.
She leads him to Goodale Park and halts in front of the pond. The air is chilly and quiet. Blaine hasn't sensed anyone since they left the main street.
"Alright, Frodo, let's cut the pretext. What are you willing to pay me?"
Blaine is taken aback by the instantaneous transformation in character. In fact, he's offended. He can't keep the annoyance out of his voice as he says, "What makes you think you have what I want?"
She smiles at him, coming closer and playing with his tie. "Call it woman's intuition," she breathes. Her breath is warm. She must have fed recently. Her coy smile is replaced by a more viscous smile as she continues. "I know you've been asking questions about some rumors in The Underground and I happen to have a bit of an inside scoop."
The bait is set and Blaine bites. "What kind of payment do you have in mind?"
She looks pleased with his answer. She backs away from him, turning to gaze at the pond. "I've heard about you, Blaine Anderson. Jeremiah is a bit a a legend ,but him and all of his little younglings are the most enigmatic bastards I've ever seen. Expect my surprise to hear that someone from his gene pool has been frequenting a dinky town like Columbus, Ohio. So while you've been chasing after your rumors, I've been chasing after you." Blaine doesn't like the cockiness in her stance. She seems less sure of her self with her next statement, as she turns to look at him again. "The truth is, I need an in. As Jeremiah's brood you've already got more pull than I could ever dream of. Plus, you've been throwing around Jesse St. Jame's name like loose change so I figure you can slip my name to him. I haven't exactly made a lot of friends over the last decade or so and working with someone like Jesse gives you a certain reputation, you know?"
Blaine knows. But, assuming he does agree, he's uncertain what he'll say to Jesse about her. Well, you see, St. James, I was hoping you could give a job to the girl that's about to give me the answers to all those questions you threatened me about. And, yes, the painting is an original. Try not to spill my blood on it.
Yeah, that will never work.
So he comes up with another plan quickly; foolishly. "I can help you out," the woman looks instantly relieved so Blaine continues quickly, "But, I can't talk to St. James for you. We had a misunderstanding recently. I doubt he's in the mood to pull favors." She is unpleased but gestures for him to continue. "From what you're saying, you're looking for a coven to hang around with, right?" A nod. "I can get you that. I have a friend in Toronto. He gets a kick out of newcomers. Especially ones that are running from something."
She surveys him for a moment, moves to take his hand, but halts suddenly. "If you're lying to me, I just want you to know I have razor blades hidden in my hair. Silver tipped." Blaine raises a brow, assures her she has nothing to worry about (failing to mention he has confidence he'd win in a fight), and extends his hand again. She takes it. Blaine smiles. "What have you got for me?"
Kurt gets his first boyfriend when he's seventeen.
The boy is a charming and tall blonde who attends a private school in Westerville. They meet at a coffee shop called The Lima Bean, where Kurt and his friends from school hang out. Kurt and Flint's meetings continue with brushed hands and blushing until the fair-haired boy finally asks Kurt out to dinner.
They've been dating for three months on the night they return to The Lima Bean.
Occasionally, Blaine will take a seat inside the coffee shop before Kurt arrives. Tonight is such a night. He's sitting in a corner, in earshot of the boy, but out of sight, as he sips at his coffee (the warmth is pleasant, but it's taste is useless) and reads over the New York Times when Flint whispers,
"We should go somewhere more quiet..."
Blaine is immediately honed in on Kurt's answer, can feel him hesitate before mumbling a flustered 'okay'.
The boys leave hand in hand. Blaine can feel his connection with Kurt growing rapidly, as it did when he cried for his mother all those years ago. But sadness is replaced by an entirely different emotion. Blaine is out the door in no time, in his car and driving home. He can feel his own arousal growing, perched on his seat behind the steering wheel the way Kurt is perched in the passengers' seat of Flint's red mustang. He doesn't know why the connection is flaring up again, why now of all times.
Blaine stumbles into his apartment, trying to block out the sensation of Kurt even as he's frantically loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. All of a sudden he stops, stumbling into his bookshelf and gripping the wood tightly enough to crack it as a moan escapes him. His fangs descend so fast they prick his own gums. He can feel lips ghosting down his neck, chest; hands clawing at skin. He hears a breathy keen in his mind and knows the fantastic sound came from Kurt. He can see the boy stretched out on his bed, blood pulsing through him as his fingers grip the head bobbing between his legs, grabbing at blonde locks as his back arches off the sheets.
"Have you ever been touched this way, Kurt?" Flint asks and Blaine is disgusted by the tone, his voice gruff and unattractive, almost a gurgle.
Kurt opens his mouth to answer but only a moan escapes him as Flint engulfs him once again. The answer is no.
Blaine's breath is coming in harsh bursts as he stumbles the rest of the way into his room and launches onto his bed. On elbows and knees, he unbuttons his pants and takes himself in his fist, forehead pressed against his mattress as he groans. His climax is approaching quickly, his eyes scrunched shut as he focuses on Kurt. Kurt's high pitched moans and gasps, the way his eyes roll back and his lids flutter shut and his toes curl and his hands grip hair that's suddenly curly and dark instead of blonde and the body below the human's is shorter but stronger – so much stronger- than Flint's and Blaine can taste Kurt on his own tongue, grips the flesh of the boy's thighs violently, nails leaving crescents of blood that stain the porcelain skin and Kurt's moans are getting more desperate and Blaine feels his body tighten and his fangs extend until- he let's go.
With a low moan he's coming into his hand. His eyes shoot open as he catches his breath, willing his connection with Kurt to fade. The effect is instantaneous, the guilt and disgust at himself as he stands enough to overpower the sensation of the human boy. Blaine strips out of his clothing and enters the bathroom. He feels sick and curses the coffee he drank earlier because for once there's something in his stomach to upchuck. He gags into the bowl, coughing and sputtering and trying to forget the taste. He's disgusted with himself.
But he tries to reason. Kurt isn't affecting him in any normal way. He recalls his conversation with Santana the previous year. About a feud that's been growing in The Underground. About a human kid that's supposed to be at the center of it. A human kid with hidden potential.
With how much Kurt Hummel's managed to get into his head, Blaine thinks those rumors might not be too far off.
Blaine says hello to Kurt when the boy is 19 years old.
Kurt is staying in Lima for a year, taking easy but necessary courses at a community college and working double shifts at The Lima Bean to raise money for college. Blaine has heard the conversations he's had with Burt about his New York dreams, as they sit around the kitchen table. I want you to go, Kurt. But we just can't afford it.
Blaine is already at The Lima Bean when Kurt comes in late for work. He gets a warning from his boss as he hurriedly pulls the uniform green apron over his head and ties is around the middle. He sounds upset as he apologizes for being late. Blaine takes a moment to close his eyes, feeling an odd sensation from Kurt. He can't quite place the emotion, but it isn't pleasant.
An hour later, Kurt gets screamed at by an out of control customer. He tries to remain gracious as she tells him off about an undercooked scone he just served her. She's drawing the attention of the entire shop as her words turn from concern over the food to a full on attack on Kurt's character. She demands to speak the manager. Kurt fetches him. He's not an unpleasant man and he likes Kurt, so he defends her when she demands that the boy apologize to her and be fired for what he did. Kurt looks like he's either holding back tears or a bitch-slap when his manager finally asks the woman to leave. She exits the store in a huff, throwing a string of slurs over her shoulder.
Kurt viciously wipes away tears as murmurs start up around the shop. Blaine's sure he's the only one to hear his manager whisper in Kurt's ear: "Why don't you take off early, Kurt. You look tired." The boy keeps his head high as he gathers his things and leaves.
Blaine can feel the despair creeping up on him. He stands quickly, his feet already pushing after Kurt before his mind can register what he's doing.
Kurt sits in his car at the edge of the parking lot, crying into the steering wheel. Blaine can feel the disparity radiating from him. Kurt's thoughts echo in his head, jumbled and confused and there's this terrible, life-threatening sadness that makes Blaine do what he does next without another thought.
His knuckles rap lightly against the driver's side window and Kurt jumps and suddenly he's staring at him with those big blue eyes and Blaine is blown away by the fact that this- this is the first moment Kurt Hummel has seen him in his lifetime. This is when Blaine realizes that this is the kid he's been watching over for years. He knows Kurt always drinks a non-fat mocha. He knows that his favorite musical is The Sound of Music and his favorite food is chicken parmesan. He bounces on the balls of his feet when he's excited. He likes to sit in the living room with the windows open and listen to rain. He has a copy of The Adventures of Doctor Dolittle that's worn out and falling apart at the binding but he still reads it every year. He smells like fresh cotton and lavender. He never cries in front of people, but his tears are rinsed down the shower drain every night.
"Hey, are you alright?" Blaine asks, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep his composure.
Kurt gives him a quizzical look, wiping the tears roughly on his shirt sleeves. Blaine realizes he can't hear him and gestures for Kurt to lower the window. Kurt lowers it slightly and warily, not even enough for a hand to slip through.
"Yes...?" he asks, voice gruff from crying but still cautious.
"I asked...I asked if you were okay? I saw what happened inside. That customer was totally unacceptable." And Kurt is just staring at him like he can't believe what he's seeing.
"I'm fine," Kurt snaps. He rolls up the window, looking pointedly at the dash and not at Blaine as he turns the key in the ignition and rips out of his parking space.
Blaine Anderson has known Kurt Hummel for twelve years and he chooses this night to try to say hello.
He should have known better.
A.N:
Mmmm...Santana Lopezzzzz
And I love Burt Hummel with a passion so I wanted to give him a bigger role. Plus, he's such a great dad and burdens himself so much with what's happening to Kurt. I kinda wonder who he talks to about it.
Questions? Comments? Reviews are lovely!
