Title: Out of Time

Author: antifairytale

Rating: NC-17 (For later chapters)

Word count: 4,300+ (12,000+)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of prostitution and slavery, homophobia, sexual situations

Summary: When given the chance to take a break from work Kurt Hummel flies off to France and ends up stuck in the 19th century, lost in a foreign time with no idea how to get back, caught in a web of lies and seduction that could end up costing him his life.

Notes: Glossary for some words will be found at the bottom after author's notes

.03

Introducing the Lady of Lesser Morals

When Kurt woke the next morning he knew immediately that he was definitely not in his personal room or his room in Marseille. So that meant that he obviously hadn't been dreaming and very, very stuck in this new time. Which basically meant he was screwed. Kurt sat up slowly with a tired groan of, "Fuck," and buried his hands in his face. A moment later there was a timid knock at his door. "Yeah?" Kurt called, not moving his hands away.

The door clicked open and someone stepped in. "'Morning monsieur," said the soft voice of Brittany. "Are you not feeling well?"

Kurt looked up to her slowly with a tired expression. "No, no. I'm fine," he glanced to the bowl in her hands. "What's that for?"

"Wash your face and shave if you needed," Brittany replied, standing in the center of the room, a good distance from Kurt along but also an equal distance from the door.

"So, there's no running water apparently," Kurt murmured.

"'Scuse me?" Brittany asked, tilting her head to the side. With another dazed sigh Kurt shook his head.

"It's nothing, thank you Brittany," He thought that was enough to send her away but she stayed where she was. "Can I help you?" Kurt tried not to snap, but he felt that he had right seeing as he was stuck 200 years in the past with no idea how to get home.

"Madam Fabray wanted me to tell you that breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes and when you get down there she'd like to talk to you."

Kurt nodded slowly and threw off his covers. "Thank you Brittany," she curtsied and left the room after that. He made his way to the other end of the room where Blaine's clothes were jumbled in a pile. Kurt sorted through them methodically, finding the longest pair of pants he could along with a shirt that would fit his shoulders. What he ended up with was probably the least flattering thing that he could have ever worn. The legs were an inch too short and a horrible brown color while the shirt was just a little too large in the chest and short in the arms. Kurt put up with it, giving a long suffering sigh before leaving the room to wander downstairs.

Quinn was sitting in the southern parlor when Kurt arrived. She looked up at him with a brilliant smile until she saw his outfit and then it immediately clouded. "Well, it's not too bad," Kurt raised an eyebrow. "All right, it's perfectly dreadful. I'm sure we could go to the tailor today," Kurt was half tempted to tell her to give him a book on the fashion of the time and some material and he'd make his own clothes, but decided against it.

The lady of the house got to her feet daintily and checked the clock on the wall. "Breakfast will be ready in a moment. Shall we?" She gave Kurt her arm and took him to the breakfast table. It was apparently only them that morning and they stayed silent as they picked at the light meal. Kurt eyed the spot that Blaine had been sitting at the previous night but he was obviously missing and even though he told himself he didn't care, he found himself wondering about where he was.

Once done with breakfast Quinn stood up and Kurt followed. "I have a bit of business to attend to this morning but once I'm done we can go out. You can get more acquainted with the house if you want. There's a garden out back if you want a breath of fresh air or you could try the library. I'm quite proud of my collection, you know."

Kurt smiled at Quinn tightly and left the table quickly. He felt tired today, but not in as much pain as he'd been the last few days. Today he was worried. What if time was still passing back in the future? What if he wasn't able to get home soon and he didn't return from his trip at the right time? What about his family? Those thoughts whirled through his mind and to say that they scared him was a vast understatement. All he wanted was to go back home where it was safe and he knew what he was doing.

Desperate to get out of the house Kurt slipped out to the garden which was in full bloom. It was absolutely gorgeous and obviously well-tended. A main pathway meandered from the house to a central area with a gazebo covering it. Other smaller stone pathways wound away from the path, farther into the garden. Trees lined the edge of the property, separating the bastide from the Jardin de la Magalone. Posts rose up along the pathways and over the years vines had wrapped themselves around the wood, clinging for dear life. Rose bushes dotted the ground, surrounded by beautiful lilies and irises and rosemary bushes. Trees spread their branches far over the walkways, created secret little shadowed areas, perfect for a secret tryst.

Kurt absently wondered if Quinn had a gardener or if she took care of these blossoms herself. Carefully he slipped down the walk of the house that didn't exist in the future. It was old and worn down then and the garden had been leveled to make room for a gift shop.

Kurt finally found a nice bench settled near the center of the garden and sighed, sinking his face into his hands again. He stayed in that position for a number of minutes, mind racing, until he heard a dark chuckle from somewhere in his vicinity. Kurt was starting to get very tired of that chuckle and the way it sent a shiver up his spine.

Kurt lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Blaine who was watching him from about ten feet away. He was leaning against a post with a trowel in his hand and his shirt partially unbuttoned. The day was barely new and he already looked like he'd worked a full afternoon the way his curls were plastered to his forehead and sweat beaded against his skin. "What?" Kurt snapped irritably.

"Ach, Nothing. I'm jest rememberin' that it's been a while since I've seen another man wearing my clothes," Blaine mused. "They really don't fit ye, ye ken. I liked the other outfit ye had on yesterday."

Kurt bristled at him, not liking the way that Blaine was talking. "It's not my fault that your growth is stunted."

Blaine's nose scrunched and his lips pursed into a frown, his back straightening to stand at his full height. "I'm plenty tall for a Scot. Ye jest are too tall."

Kurt rolled his eyes at the man. "Yes, you keep deluding yourself," He didn't mention that he found Blaine's height just fine and that he hated how Blaine's clothes fit him so well. Why couldn't guys in the 21st century look like him and have that accent?

With a sigh Blaine moved closer. "I'm guessin' we got off on the wrong foot earlier. Can we try again? My name is Blaine."

Kurt lifted a sarcastic eyebrow. "And you don't have a last name?"

Blaine shrugged. "Anderson. And ye are?"

"Not amused," Kurt found he enjoyed taking his anger and frustration out on Blaine by being sarcastic. It made him feel so much better even if it seemed to annoy Blaine.

"Ye are a hard case, ye ken," Blaine murmured tiredly, leaning back on his heels. Kurt's eyebrow rose artistically. There was something so weird about Blaine. He was too friendly, like Quinn. Kurt was pretty certain that the people of 19th century France were not known for their bright and friendly personalities. From what little he remembered from tenth grade world history there was strife among the classes.

"I'd say the same about you and Quinn," Kurt finally said, mirroring Blaine by leaning back and crossing a leg over his knee daintily. "I don't know how to figure either of you out."

Blaine's jaw clicked slightly and his eyes narrowed. "I pity the person that made ye so unwilling to trust."

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back the angry comment that he was so ready to throw at Blaine. The Scotsman only watched him with a sad tilt to his lips. Finally Blaine licked his lips, preparing to speak again. "I did not come out here with the intent to upset ye. Only to offer ye a friendly shoulder to lean on. I wasn't lying when I told ye that I know what being displaced is like."

Kurt sighed and watched Blaine for a moment. He was obviously sincere but it was strange for Kurt to have someone he didn't even know act like this towards him. Finally he straightened his back and held out his hand to Blaine, watching with interest as the man's eyes opened wide, shocked. Kurt knew that if he was going to be stuck here he needed to at least have someone on his side.

"Kurt Hummel, it's a pleasure to meet you Blaine Anderson."

Blaine's eyes lit up like it was Christmas and he immediately grasped Kurt's hand, holding it tenderly but giving a strong shake. Kurt immediately noticed how strong Blaine's hand was and pulled away, giving him a curt nod. There was something in Blaine's gaze as he watched him that made Kurt want to take a step forward toward him.

"Kurt, are you out here dear?" Quinn's voice called and Blaine all but jumped away, almost knocking into a pole with a vine growing up it.

Quinn appeared at Blaine's elbow with an arched eyebrow and an almost accusing look on her face. "Blaine. I thought I asked you to fix the door to the wine cellar?"

Blaine grinned back at her. "Yes, yes ye did. I jest, got a little lost. I'll tend to that now," He shot a glance back Kurt before trotting away, whistling brightly.

Quinn turned her attention to Kurt and immediately a smile melted onto her lips. "Was Blaine bothering you? He has trouble with keeping his social graces sometimes. His mouth gets the better of him."

"He wasn't bothering me at all," Kurt assured her, rubbing his hand a little as it tingled.

Quinn's lips blossomed into a smile. "Wonderful. Now, let's get to the tailors. I can't let a handsome man like you run around in such unfit clothing," She offered her arm to him and Kurt took it immediately. The blonde ushered him outside to a waiting coach which started off down the road once they were settled.

Kurt stared out the window, amazed. This was his first time seeing the actual city how it used to be. To him things seemed so much slower, less rushed by the sounds of honking horns or people yelling at one another. Poverty was evident on every street corner just like in his time and people still walked passed those souls without a second glance. Sometimes, someone would drop a coin at their feet but otherwise they were invisible.

As a fashion connoisseur Kurt's eye was immediately drawn to the clothing worn by those walking by their carriage. Many of the women walked around in elegant dresses that, while not fashionable in the 21st century, looked beautiful and gave them a grace that seemed to be sorely lacking in the future. Men dressed to fit with clothes that showed their social level, Many of the men he saw were wearing waistcoats and boots pulled over the legs of their breeches.

"I'm guessing that American fashion is far different than here," Quinn said sweetly, watching him through narrowed eyes.

Kurt turned to meet her gaze. "I wouldn't say that. People just have a different way of wearing their clothes."

Quinn seemed contented with his answer and turned back to looking outside. Kurt took a quick look over her dress - white with a high waist that came to below her chest and flowed out elegantly. The neck was cut low and the sleeves puffed around her shoulders and upper arms. Finally, a yellow bonnet covered her hair with a matching scarf draped over her shoulders. Kurt couldn't imagine any girl from his time wearing something like this when walking around the streets during the day.

They arrived minutes later at a little tailors shop with dresses displayed in the windows. Kurt got out first and held out his hand to help his new companion from the carriage. Inside the building a few women tottered around, hemming dresses and completing other tasks. In the back a man was being fitted and looked thoroughly bored.

Two women immediately swarmed Quinn, twittering over her dress and how stunning it looked on her. "Are you here for a new dress?" One woman asked.

Quinn shook her head lightly with a small smirk to her lips. "No, no. I'm here for my friend, Monsieur Hummel. He's fresh from the boat from America and in desperate need of new clothes. Spare no expenses."

Two sets of eyes turned on Kurt, evaluating him. Slowly the women began circling Kurt, examining him from top to bottom and murmuring to one another in quick voices. Kurt only stood there, letting them work. Apparently people in the fashion world hadn't changed their methods much over the years. Finally he sighed and gave them his measurements since he knew them by heart. "I actually think I look best in blues and various shades thereof," Kurt told them, trying to speed up the process.

Very soon after Kurt found himself on the pedestal wearing a pair of tight fitting blue breeches which were being taken in, along with a white shirt and coat for formal wear. He was also fitted for casual trousers and coats and shirts for every day wear. The entire process lasted far too long for Kurt's liking but in the end, as he was turned towards the mirror he was thoroughly impressed.

Kurt actually looked like a gentleman with white trousers that came high up and accented his waist. A blue vest encased his chest and underneath there was white shirt with high neck. Finally a coat was added on top with padded shoulders and left unbuttoned. Kurt actually found himself gaping at his reflection. He looked amazing. Too bad he'd never be able to pull something like this off back in his time.

Quinn appeared at his side with a brilliant grin on her face. "Kurt, you look lovely! Far better than you did in Blaine's clothes."

Kurt stepped off the pedestal and spun round in the mirror once more, loving how everything looked on him. Suddenly the thought hit him, what would Blaine think? He knew that Blaine most likely would not care but still, there was something in Blaine's eyes that made Kurt think there was a touch of interest in him. But he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He'd heard about how men with homosexual tendencies were treated in past centuries and that was the last thing he needed to deal with.

He was focused on getting home, not getting with the hired help.

"Thank you Quinn. You have no idea how I appreciate this," Kurt sighed, turning to face the woman.

Quinn waved him away, "My pleasure dear." She then turned to the ladies. "Please have Monsieur Hummel's order sent to the bastide and put it on my bill. I will pay at the end of the month as always," The girls curtsied at Quinn and hurried away. Almost by instinct Kurt gave his arm to Quinn and she took it, leading him back outside. "What do you say to shoes next? It's just down the street a little. The walk will do us good."

Kurt agreed and they spent another great amount of time shopping for shoes. Finally lunch arrived and they found a café to take lunch. As they sipped their tea Quinn watched Kurt over the top of her cup. "You're adjusting to being here quite well," she commented.

Kurt's shoulders tensed but he kept his tone civil. "Ah, well, I suppose it hasn't quite hit me."

Quinn gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I suppose I can understand that. It's a strange situation but it'll catch up sooner or later," she paused for a moment. "Now that we're alone why don't you tell me about your family?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out why she was so adamant to know about his family. Finally he decided to speak, but keep it simple. "My mother died when I was young and I live with my father. He's a mechanic," Quinn's eyebrows went up.

"So he works on machines? Locomotives and such?" Kurt guessed that meant cars weren't around yet and decided to go with it, so he nodded. "An admirable profession. Was he a good man?"

Kurt smiled softly. "Yes, a very good man. But I felt like a burden to him. I would cost him too much money."

"Another reason why you left, am I correct?" Quinn ventured and Kurt nodded. "Well, once you are settled let's send your father a letter, let him know you're safe."

Kurt allowed a sad smile to touch his lips. "Yes, that would be nice. Thank you Quinn," she only beamed at him and went back to her lunch.

They arrived back at the bastide closer to dinner time after shopping around town and taking in the city. Quinn had taken it upon herself to be his personal tour guide and showed him all the most beautiful places of the city. Kurt recognized many of them from brochure but many other places had long since disappeared by the 21st century arrived.

Quinn excused herself to freshen up for dinner and left Kurt in the main entry way. He, in turn went up to his new room, and noticed that his clothes had arrived. There was a mirror in Kurt's room opposite his bed and he glanced at his reflection once more. He really did look good. "What would my father say if he could see me like this," he mused to himself.

Quinn knocked on his door for him to go with her downstairs for dinner. It was apparently only them that evening and they ate quietly, apparently having run out of things to talk about during lunch. When they parted after dinner Quinn went back to her room, not feeling well, and left Kurt to his own devices.

He settled for wandering around again and eventually met Brittany standing in an alcove. "Brittany? Is everything okay?" Kurt ventured coming close to her.

"I sneezed," Brittany murmured, eyes wide and worried.

"And?" Kurt pressed.

"No one blessed me," she whispered.

Kurt stared at her for a moment before he realized that she was obviously very superstitious. "Oh, well, bless you… I guess," Brittany stared at him in awe before curtsying.

"Thank you monsieur!" She said over her shoulder before hurrying toward the kitchens.

Kurt grinned after the girl and stepped away, looking for the western parlor. He'd decided to look through each room carefully to learn the building earlier. It was a chance to learn about a place he could only access through museums. If he was actually going to be stuck here he might as well take advantage of the chance.

The western parlor was filled with soft couches and statues and artwork. It was a more casual than some of the other rooms in the house. Kurt settled on one of the couches to peruse a thick tome while enjoying the setting sun through the large, picturesque windows. About twenty minutes later there came a soft knocking behind him. Kurt glanced over the back of the couch and spotted Blaine lounging in the doorway.

Almost immediately he grew a little self-conscious. Why wouldn't he? Blaine was good looking, even if he was off limits. It wasn't bad for Kurt to want to look good.

"I see shopping went well," Blaine commented lightly.

"Hmm?" Kurt asked, turning and getting to his feet. "How so?"

Blaine was silent for a moment. His face was partially covered by shadows but Kurt could have sworn he'd seen those hands clench and unclench at his sides as his eyes flickered over Kurt's frame. As his glance came up their eyes met for the second time that day and there was a definite fire that scared Kurt. He'd never felt a spark before from just a glance, especially when he knew the guy was completely off limits. And this could be dangerous.

Finally Kurt pulled his gaze away and Blaine coughed slightly. "All the clothes that arrived, I just assumed it was… a good outing," There was a beat of silence before Blaine murmured. "As much as I enjoyed the eccentricity of the clothes from yer arrival I think these ones fit ye much better."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Kurt challenged, trying to figure out what Blaine was trying to achieve here.

"Verra much so," Blaine replied simply. Kurt forced himself not to blush and looked away.

Blaine was an enigma. After years of living in New York Kurt was proud to say he could pick out a gay man a mile away. It was something he'd trained himself to do after years of being repressed in Ohio. Blaine didn't give off any of the usual indicators but Kurt didn't know if the ones he spotted still applied in 19th century society. And it wasn't exactly like he could go up to Blaine and say, "Hi, I think you're ridiculously sexy. Wanna make out?" He'd read Jane Austin, he knew how society was supposed to work.

Plus, there was the problem that Blaine probably didn't even have an ounce of interest towards men. He could just be one of those people who acted very sweet and friendly to all people, regardless of gender. But there was something in those eyes when they caught Kurt's, something more than interest in the strange new boy from America.

Or that could just be his over-active imagination working in tandem with his wishful thinking and hormones. He was known for romanticizing almost every guy he found interesting.

"Say, laddie-" Blaine started, but was cut off as a loud bell resounded down the hall causing both men to jump. Brittany hustled passed them to their door and both men waited to hear who was there. What they didn't expect was the shrill scream that Brittany gave off.

Feet thundered through the house as all servants and guests hurried to find out what was wrong. Kurt and Blaine pushed through the crowd to find Brittany holding up a dark haired woman with a torn dress and bruises marring her skin.

Blaine moved forward first to hold up the woman's other side. Quinn pushed through a moment later and immediately sprang into action. "Blaine, Kurt, get her upstairs," She felt the woman's forehead. "She has a fever. Brittany, I want you to tend to her, bring water to the room."

Kurt slipped forward to take Brittany's place and help bring the woman up the stairs. They placed her in the red suite closer towards Quinn's room and Brittany pushed in immediately afterwards bearing a bowl of water and a cloth. Both men slipped back to let the girl work as Quinn came in looking worried. She set to work instructing Brittany on what to do while shuffling the boys out of the room.

Once the door had closed behind them Kurt turned to the shorter man, his eyebrows knit together. "Who was that woman?"

"From the state of her dress…" He trailed off. "I would guess she is a, well, lady of lesser morals. A woman from one of the brothels."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "A prostitute? How do you know?"

"Aye. Their dresses are more… alluring," Blaine ventured. "Though I'm afraid to find out how the lassie ended up like this. Normally the brothels work hard to keep them safe."

"Will she be okay?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. "I dinna ken. We will see tomorrow morning. Goodnight laddie," Blaine said, touching a hand to Kurt's shoulder and moving away. Kurt's breath caught in his throat at the touch and a shiver jolted its way down his spine. Kurt turned to watch him as he slipped into his room and shut the door. Finally Kurt let his shoulders slump and went to his room, trying not to think about the woman in the other room with the torn dress and bruises on her face.


I want to thank everyone for commenting and leaving me notes and everything! I am really loving writing this story and playing with the idea of my Scottish Blaine. Once again, my beta, Kat, is beautiful and deserves so much love. (pocketwatchesandbowties . tumblr . com)

I am heading off to college within the next week so, so I won't be able to post the next chapter until the week after next (sorry!) I hope that once things settle down I can continue to update at a regular pace. Things are definitely going to be heating up within the next few chapters.

Reviews and comments are always loved and appreciated. I would be lying if I said I didn't love hearing from everyone who reads this story and my other.