The Apartment
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"Daddy K I'm ready for bath time!"
Kurt blinked his eyes sleepily, gazing from the New York City sky line and over to his five year old son, Toronto.
Even with the young boy's perceptive vision and perfect 20/20; Toronto could not pick up on his dad's exhaustion. Though to be fair, Kurt wasn't as much exhausted as he was flat out drained.
The dark circles under his eyes had multiplied, his limbs long out of their last stance and his meticulous hair style starting to droop and crust over from hairspray and gel. Standing quickly he scooped the naked, giggling boy and made his way to the small shared bathroom of their tiny apartment flat.
"Why are you naked silly boy" Kurt cooed as he swiped the curls from Toronto's face.
The blue-eyed boy covered his mouth to contain his giggles. "Silly daddy! You have to get nakies for bathtub" and with that Kurt plopped him into the bubble-filled water.
"Not full nakies" Kurt mocked surprise as his mouth fell open.
"Yes nakies!" Toronto cried as he began to fiddle with one of his battleships in the water. The boat submerged and re-submerged enough times to keep the young boy distracted and Kurt took the opportunity to rub at his temple, sigh heavily, and reconsider his life choices.
Kurt's full name was Kurt Elijah Hummel-Anderson. Yeah. Try saying that ten times fast.
It was a name docked with fear and Kurt spent most of his time covering it up with a mesh of aliases to hide his true identity.
Kurt and Toronto Stevens was what he wrote on the lease to their tiny cramped apartment (a moment Kurt was most definitely not proud of, but if he and Toronto were to remain safe, Kurt would stick to as many aliases as he could carry.
The apartment he had managed to rent was cheap. Stupid cheap. Shitty, stupid and cheap.
It was a neighbourhood of drug addicts and insurance fraud salesmen and crazy cat ladies who actually were crazy and not just living with a bunch of cats for the namesake.
It was all he could get right now; last limbs, last money were now his motto. And with his luck, they would be moving from the tiny cramped apartment faster than he could say "meth-heads in apartment room 4B."
"Daddy K!" Toronto screamed.
"Toronto!" Kurt scolded, coming out of his train of thought and lathering a cloth to wash away grime from the cherubic face, "absolutely no screaming, especially at daddy."
Toronto ignored the scolding in favour of pointing out the doorway of their small bathroom. "But someone's knocking, and you weren't listening or paying attention."
Kurt's face paled to an unhealthy degree. He griped for the wall to hold him up as he stood, draping a towel over Toronto's head who fumbled with it and pointed childlike accusations at Kurt.
Kurt hushed him as he made his way across the tiles.
"It's probably just the landlord" Kurt whispered, more to himself than to his son. He looked back at Toronto and drew a finger to his lips.
"Stay quiet sweetie, and don't move around"
Toronto looked up quietly and nodded, clinging to the edge of the rim of the porcelain tub.
Kurt beelined for the kitchen, gripping a slicing knife, he began to approach the door. His knees began to wobble as the knocking ceased for a moment.
All was quiet save for the pounding of Kurt's heart against his ribcage and the small ticking of a hanging wall clock.
"…Hello?"
The front door smashed to the ground with a harsh crack, splintering to the sound of Kurt's screaming.
The foot that had knocked it down retracted and stepped back to allow entry to the man that had haunted Kurt's restless nights for four straight weeks.
Blaine Hummel-Anderson.
Hazel eyes like honey, dark curls in ringlets around his face, a five o' clock shadow and a face rampant with unbridled anger and hate.
A dark look crossed his features as he took in the sight of his husband cowering, yet still wielding the knife as if a sword, long and steel, ready for action.
"B-B-B-Bl-"
"Shut the fuck up"
One of the henchmen took a step forward and looked around the small space as Kurt whimpered.
"You started a lot of fucking shit baby. I'm not impressed by your behaviour. Not one fucking bit. You're gonna look fucking ridiculous sucking my dick with no teeth once I'm done with you" Blaine sneered. "I'll make you choke, you'll fucking beg for release, and we both know you'll never fucking get it."
Kurt sobbed, and it was at just the right moment for Blaine, who stalked forward and began to choke Kurt. Both hands wrapped around the pale man's neck. He watched Kurt's face turn purple, his eyes bulging.
"You think you're fucking smart running from me for so long?"
Kurt coughed.
"Think your fucking sneaky as shit to leave in the middle of the night and take our son with you?"
Kurt's mouth slackened
"Thought you could escape and live in fantasyland and grow a fucking pair away from me did you. Well here's prince charming baby" Blaine planted a filthy kiss to Kurt's trembling mouth "and there's no fucking horse or castle waiting for you, it's just me and our bedroom and the fucking shithole you dug for yourself."
Kurt's eyes began to go red as he stared into Blaine's. The hands grappling and clawing at his forearms began to go slack as Blaine began to beat Kurt's head against the adjacent wall.
"Daddy?"
Every man in the room froze.
Blaine dropped Kurt before anyone could blink.
Toronto stood stalk still in the middle of the small room, watching the men loom over his father's body; now choking and gasping for air that he had just been granted.
"Tori….." Blaine murmured in awe.
Toronto looked over to the henchmen standing poised and still, waiting.
Blaine took a cautious step forward, ignoring Kurt's frantic tug at his pant leg, and the obnoxious heaving sounds he was letting forth.
"Tori….baby…."
Toronto looked at Blaine's face, his small eyes widening slightly.
"Daddy B?"
"Yeah space ranger"
And in a second Blaine found himself with an armful of naked, wet, fiver year old sobbing and crying and planting big sloppy kisses to his cheek. "Missed you Daddy B!"
"I missed you baby" he concurred, placing kisses all over his son's tiny face.
"We're done here boys" Blaine turned to the beefy guys behind him, "pick him up and let's go; I've got what I want."
Kurt sobbed frantically with what little air he had obtained in the small amount of time. His arms were taken and he was lifted and dragged behind Blaine who kept Toronto's face hidden in his shoulder.
Blaine was seething as they made their way out of the rat hole apartment. His mind wandering to all the punishments he would subject Kurt to, one preceding all others as Blaine smirked. Now that he had his family back, there was no way Kurt would be leaving again anytime soon.
Blaine could count on that.
