Title: As A God
Summary: 18 years ago, Burt Hummel's girlfriend disappeared. He spent months desperately searching, but eventually he had to accept Kathy was gone. He eventually finds happiness in Carole, Finn, and even Finn's best friend. But then he gets a call. A call from NYPD, telling him a 17 year old admitted to hospital for a drug overdose and carrying a picture of Burt and Kathy. Burt's son? There's only one way to find out.
Warnings: Right, this is a long one. Violence, substance abuse, sexual violence, prostitution (including underage), swearing, 'phobic slander, angsty goodness, self harm, suicidal thoughts (possibly acts)…yeah, this will be quite dark at times, at least, the themes will be.
WARNING: This chapter will contain vaguely explicit drug abuse.
As I struggle through some quite severe writer's block, I am continuing my trend of filler *flashback* chapters; sorry it's so short. It's a way to tell the world I don't care what the writers think, Klaine is forever for me, and I suppose a mean way of teasing you all with bits of Blaine. I love you and all your favourites, follows, and reviews. Thank you so very, very much. I'd love to know what people think of these flashbacks in particular, oh! And I wonder how many references you can find to musicals? ;)
-SallyStorm
Over and out.
(chapter ten)
To you, your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties, yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it.
A Midsummer Night's Dream (1.1.50-4)
Raindrops
on roses and whiskers on
kittens.
Bright copper kettles and
warm
woollen mittens.
Brown paper
packages tied
up
with string.
These are a few of my favourite…
Food and
water and clothes and
a
mattress and a
blanket.
These are a few of my favourite things.
Mother?
Bright copper kettles and
water.
Mother?
"Wake up, Kurt."
The dog stings
and the
bee bites.
Right?
"Wake up, my love".
You are my lucky star.
I am by
far
the greatest star.
"Beautiful, wake up."
Snowflakes that stay on
my nose and
eyelashes.
Why won't they melt?
Just cold, cold, cold.
"Shush now, it's ok. Wake up, love."
The stormy clouds are chasing, Mother.
Mother?
"That's it, open your eyes. Just open them. That's all you have to do, beautiful."
Let those stormy clouds chase, Blaine.
"Blaine?"
"Yes, love?"
It's so nice to have you back where you belong.
"Blaine?"
"Tell me where it hurts, sweetheart."
"Will you kiss it better?"
Only can die once, right Mother?
"Of course I will. Just tell me."
Mama, can you hear me?
glee
Knock-knock-knock.
"Porcelain?"
Knock-knock-knock.
"Porcelain, you've got until seven minutes ago to get your ass out of that apartment."
Knock-knock-kno-
"What do you want?"
"Oh for Christ's…who the fuck are you?"
"My name's Blaine. I live here."
"Do you know who I am, Blaine?"
"Yes, I do."
"Good. Now, where is he?"
"He's not working tonight, Spike."
"Oh yeah? What, you taking his place?"
"No, I'm-"
"In that case, I don't give a crap. Now if you'll excuse me…"
"No, wait. Hey! Get out of - you get out of our apart-"
"Shit."
"You see? You understand now? He's not working tonight, Spike. Even if he could, he's not going to get you anything."
"Who did this?"
"Bunch of guys. He must've been walking home from giving you the money. I went looking for him when he wasn't back by dawn."
"And he has no idea?"
"He hasn't been fucking lucid enough for me to even ask."
"Don't get touchy, Blaine. You know, by all rights this apartment belongs to me. I could kick you and Porcelain out anytime I damn well want."
"…No, he has no idea who the guys were."
"That's better. Shit, what a mess .Where'd you get bandages from?"
"Couple of old shirts."
"What's this one-"
"Don't touch- be careful! It's ok, shush love…stop touching it, you're hurting him!"
"The one on his head'll need stitches. Probably concussed. I'll go get my bag."
"If you think I'm going to let you touch him, you're-"
"Listen, kid. That cut'll get infected real fast if you don't let me get my shit and do something about it. And get rid of the fucking possessive attitude. I own that sweet ass and I don't take kindly to people poaching on what's mine."
Crack.
"I'm gonna give you a few seconds to apologise for that one, kid."
"You deserved it. I'm not gonna - what, what are you doing? What the fuck - stop! Stop it! You're hurting him. Stop - I'm sorry! I'm sorry, ok? Let go of him…sweetheart? Sh, I know. I'm sorry, it's ok. I'm here…I'm sorry, ok? Just - just please help him."
"Better. Stay here, wash out the cuts. This'll have to be quick. I've got money to make, kid. And Porcelain ain't doing me any good lying here feeling sorry for himself."
"Just hurry up. Please hurry up."
glee
Oom-Pah-Pah Oom-Pah-Pah
That's how
it goes.
And everyone knows, don't they?
"Blaine?"
"I'm still here, love."
"You're always here."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No. Never."
"Oh good, I'm glad."
As long as you need me, Blaine.
Mother?
"What time-"
"Spike knows, love. He stitched up your head for you. Not a bad job, I guess."
(Some) How? (Some) Where?
"Maybe there's hmm…"
"It's ok, that's it. Ow, don't hurt yourself. There you go. Better?"
"Mhm."
"What were you saying?"
When I look at you the world just goes
away.
"Maybe there's…hope for Spike yet."
"Mm, maybe. Look what he left for us…"
"Is it-"
"Yes."
"Didn't he-"
"A get well soon gift."
"Oh god. Yes. Please. Now."
"Wait, just wait. A little while? You might be concussed."
"Blaine it's been so fucking long. I need some. I need some now. Don't tell me you don't, either."
"I know. I know."
"I just need it so bad, Blaine."
"It's ok. Let me see if I can find-"
"Don't need one. Don't want one."
"It's better with a needle, you know?"
"Hate needles."
"Even for some of this?"
"Stop it. It'll help the pain anyway."
"It will."
"I just want to forget."
"Everything?"
"Except you."
"Me too."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes. God yes. Born ready for this."
glee
"Well you look better than the last time I saw you. How's your head?"
Spike's leaning against the wall, flicking a lit cigarette between his fingers and smirking at the approaching figure.
"Like you care," Porcelain snaps.
"Actually, I do. Can't have you passing out with someone's cock in your mouth, can we?"
"My head is fine, Spike. Thank you for the stitches."
"Pretty damn fine job, I'd say."
"Yeah, delicate as a surgeon's hand."
Porcelain flinches as a spray of ash is flicked in his face, the cigarette mid twirl between the second and third finger of Spike's left hand. He looks into those curious pale eyes that smile coldly at him through lank, greasy hair.
"And your present?"
"Now that I appreciated."
Spike's smirk twists deeper into his prematurely lined face. His yellow skin glows briefly, an ugly shade of orange as he takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke wafting from his cracked lips deliberately into Porcelain's still bruised, though thankfully no longer swollen, face.
"Thought you might need a pick me up. I'd send some guys after the bastards who did it if you'd give me any clue who they were."
"Spike, this is New-fucking-York. They were just a bunch of drunk-ass guys looking for someone to kick around. They could be on the other side of the city, the state, the damn country, or maybe living in the apartment block next to mine, and I wouldn't know the difference. Just let it go."
"I lost a lot of money without you for the past few days, Porcelain. How am I gonna make that back up, huh?"
Porcelain can only sigh and shrink and let a little more weight settle comfortably on his shoulders, like a cat digging its claws in, stinging, as it searches for the perfect spot.
"I don't know, make me work extra?"
Spike, for some reason, pulls an expression of disgust. Porcelain can't help but feel a prick of rejection deflate his ego a little.
"Four days ago I stitched your fucking head back together, Porcelain. I am not sending you out into that mob yet. You're on floor one tonight in the house. I don't want you on the streets by yourself until I tell you otherwise. You hear me?"
If Porcelain wasn't painfully aware of how very much Spike cared about money loss and property damage, he'd suspect Spike almost cared about his safety.
"Ok. Ok, um, thanks, Spike."
"Get inside," Spike grunts.
And that's the end of it.
glee
Blaine?
Yes, beautiful?
I love you.
I love you.
Do you?
Of course. I'll always love you.
No matter what?
No matter what.