A/N: Hi! So I was a dick and deleted the authors note from chapter one. So here's an extra-long one…
I keep seeing Klaine/DW manips everywhere and was desperate for a crossover to happen. So I just decided to write it myself. I have parts of the story planned out, a few things that will definitely happen but I have no idea how long it will be. If anyone has any idea for anything they want to happen, feel free to drop me a comment saying so!
There's a bunch of questions about the regeneration, and where this is in DW canon, but never fear. Blaine will explain all eventually!
This starts somewhere between Sexy and Original Songs. And it all goes batshit out of canon from then on.
Oh & it's an M rating so some swearing, some violence, maybe eventually some gore, and possibly maybe one day some smut if I can bring myself to write it…
And I don't own Glee or DW. If I did my life would be very different.
Blaine was pacing again. Incessantly.
"I don't care Mickey! How many times…no…no…SHUT UP! Honestly, do you ever listen to me? I told you no, now I'm telling you yes. Things change. And no, I don't need your help. No…STOP TOUCHING THAT! Look I've got to…Just stay where you are. And don't touch anything that looks –"
Blaine stopped short, blinking at the wall opposite him in amazement.
"He hung up on me. That moron actually hung up on me. I…I –"
He seemed to be at a loss for words, and turned to Kurt with a questioning look on his face.
Kurt didn't see it however. He was situated on the floor, squashed gracefully between a bucket and a shelf groaning with cleaning products, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, rocking backwards and forwards ever so slightly.
Blaine dropped to his knees before him, gingerly reaching his hands out to brush Kurt's wrists. He jerked back, looking at Blaine as though he'd only just realised he was there.
"Kurt," Blaine said softly, "Kurt it's okay. You're okay."
Kurt looked up at him with disdain.
"Seriously Blaine. In case you hadn't noticed, not only did we lose a singing competition that I've been building up for all year, I was chased off the stage by three boys I thought were my friends who were making completely unnecessary amounts of inhuman noise – honestly, with voices that sing as well as they do, I don't know how they managed to sound just that awful – and then Wes's head went and blew up! In front of me!"
Blaine winced slightly, "Yeah…yeah that was a bit…"
"Blaine, I don't think you're quite understanding me here. HIS! HEAD! BLEW! UP! And apparently it turns out he wasn't even human, because that definitely wasn't what I got showered with after his head blew up. I got showered with metal. And fire. And plastic."
"I know, Kurt. I know."
"So no Blaine. You're wrong. Everything is not okay; Wes is a robot. The Warblers are maniacs. And you, I don't even know. You're being all mysterious and weird. And sure in another situation I would play it off as part of your sexy, elusive charm, but right now I'm confused and pissed off."
Blaine quirked an eyebrow, "Sexy? Really?"
Kurt frowned, "That's what you chose to hear, out of everything I just said? Can you please just focus!"
"Sorry! But…sexy?"
"Blaine!"
"Right. Focus. Sorry."
"Blaine, what are we going to do? You tell me to run and we get chased by head Warblers into a cleaning cupboard. It's painfully small in here by the way, and dirty. I've been trying not to mention it, but next time can't you barricade us somewhere a little…more tasteful?"
"Right. Of course, well I'll keep that in mind the next time we're being chased by murderous and vengeful robots who look good in blazers and can make up six-part harmonies to Fall Out Boy."
"Woah, hold up a minute there Buster. Murderous. Murderous and vengeful?"
Blaine looked at him exasperated, "Well they weren't exactly screaming and chasing us because they wanted to make friends, were they? Maybe I should unlock the door and invite them all to tea next time!"
"Blaine my family are out there! My friends! Out there with murderous robots running around, and we're sitting here, locked in a cupboard!"
He waved his hand, "Relax, they'll be fine. I set the doors to automatically dead-lock shut after fifteen minutes. And I surrounded the stage with magnetic clamps that are strong enough to repel a body made of metal. And I set off the fire alarm as we ran. Hopefully that have stopped them getting off the stage, and everyone in the audience would have got out okay. In case you didn't notice the three robots were only chasing us. We probably drew their attention for long enough that everyone managed to get out."
"Okay I think I understood about half of what you just said."
He smiled, "Everyone got out but we're locked in the building with three rampaging robot boys in blazers."
"Oh. Is that good or bad?"
"You decide."
"How do you know they're locked in the building too?"
"Because they won't have left without finding what they're looking for."
"And what's that?"
"Us. Well," Blaine grinned, and an insatiably smug look crossed his face, "Me."
"Right," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Brilliant. Look Blaine, who are you?"
The smile left his face, and Blaine leant forwards until there was less than a foot between them. His eyes were bright and deep and imploring as they bore into Kurt's face.
"Kurt. There isn't time to tell you now, but I promise I will. If you ever trusted me before now, please just stick with me on this one."
He stood in one smooth motion, and held one hand down to Kurt.
"Do you trust me?"
Kurt bit his lip.
"Yes," he said, and took Blaine's hand.
Kurt's head was hurting. He couldn't tell if his thoughts were so crowded and so messy that they had scrambled up any opportunity for legitimate judgements on the situation, or if the last half an hour had wiped his brain of all feelings and emotion and left him full of cotton wool and the white noise between radio stations.
Normally an ideal daydream to get Kurt through a particularly boring two hours Ancient History would be Blaine grabbing him by the hand and dragging him into a cupboard so small that if they stood face to face their noses were almost touching.
Normally in his mind the cupboard didn't smell like bleach and rubber, however.
But now, this.
Blaine. His best friend Blaine.
Gorgeous Blaine. Funny Blaine. Charming Blaine.
Blaine who was oh so addicted to coffee, who always wore odd socks because he forgot to pair them up and who always cried at the end of The Sound of Music.
That Blaine had been violently replaced. This new model was rambling and elusive and patronising and Kurt kind of wanted to kiss him and then punch him; he didn't care what order.
They were running again and Kurt wondered why Blaine always felt the need to hold his hand and run with him. Their feet were pounding heavily along the otherwise silent and deserted corridor, each slap of leather on the floor echoing in the empty space around them.
"Shouldn't we take our shoes off?" Kurt whispered harshly.
Blaine stopped short. Turned and face him, looking incredulous.
"Why on earth would we take our shoes off?"
Kurt blushed, feeling foolish. He probably hadn't meant to say that aloud, but it seemed that every moment longer he was with Blaine it was getting harder and harder to keep things inside.
"Well we're making an awful lot of noise. And I don't know whether the plan is to hide from the robots or whatever, but we probably don't want to draw to much attention to ourselves, right?"
Blaine let out a breathy laugh, "You know Kurt Hummel, I don't know how I ever managed without you. Come on then, shoes off and vámonos!" He threw one shoe over his shoulder with a flourish and a grin.
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's Spanish. For 'Let's Go'. Shoes?"
"Right. Yeah," Kurt considered his shoes for a moment, chewing his lips. "Are we just going to leave them here? I'll have you know that my shoes are –"
"Don't tell me. Designer?"
"Well they weren't cheap Blaine!"
"Kurt we are on the run from murderous robots that aren't even robots. If anything they're multi-dimensional interspecies Chromo-forms with a bizarre penchant for singing acapella and wearing smart blazers and…No, you know what, we'll just keep calling them robots. But right now they are not very happy. I would go so far as to say they are exceedingly pissed off…for reasons I may or may not have had a hand in, but regardless. There are bigger things at stake here than your shoes."
Kurt put his hands on his hips and fixed Blaine with one of the harshest glares he could muster.
"Blaine Anderson. For the past thirty minutes I have given you the benefit of the doubt and refrained from punching you and I have one hell of a right hook, you can ask Finn for reference. So if I say that I don't want to leave a pair to three hundred dollar shoes behind, regardless of whose chasing me, I don't plan on doing it. Okay?"
Blaine considered him for a long moment before he stepped forwards and cupped Kurt's jaw in both his hands.
"Kurt Hummel. I can tell already that you are going to become the biggest handful I have ever had to deal with, and that's saying something."
He turned away, scooping up both pairs of shoes in one motion and moving to place them against the wall, "I promise you, we will come back for the shoes later, Kurt. Okay?"
Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "The things I do for you, Blaine Anderson."
When he opened them Blaine was grinning that goofy grin, his eyes lit up and bright with excitement like a child at Christmas.
"Ready to run again?"
"What is it with you and running, we're not even running from anything!"
A clatter sounded at the end of the room, and Kurt spun around to see three stiff bodies in navy suits turning to face them, which Kurt found slightly disconcerting as one of them seemed to be lacking a head. He turned back to Blaine who, if it was possible, was grinning even wider.
"You were saying?"
Maybe Kurt had really, finally cracked. It was becoming a more and more viable explanation as the minutes ticked by.
Maybe he was still sleeping on the bus before Regionals, his head on Blaine's shoulder. Maybe he had passed out at the shock of losing and Blaine had carried him back to his dorm room and tucked him into bed. Maybe he was still in Literature class.
Because there was no way his brain was accepting the fact that he was running full pelt down the hallway of a deserted building, with the automated clanking of three robots with two heads between them following at a distance that was too close for comfort.
"There!" Blaine said suddenly, throwing his arm forward to point at the wall ahead of them, towards two huge cupboards, a blank wall and…OH! A fire escape! Were they just planning to vacate the building, leaving the robots to rampage? Had the entire half an hour been a complete waste of time?
"Maybe we should have rethought the socks," Kurt whispered as Blaine's futile attempts to stop running left him skidding along the smooth floor to crash into the door. Kurt of course managed to come to a stop while maintaining his dignity and Blaine threw him a glare.
"Shut it, you. Now if I can just…" Blaine was fumbling in his Dalton blazer before pulling something out with a triumphant cry.
"What the hell is that?"
Blaine considered the object in his hand for a moment, holding it up with a shrug. It was the size of a large pen. A very large pen with buttons and a bright light at the end, like a child's toy or something questionable one would find in an antique shop.
"It's a um…sonic screwdriver. It's a screwdriver that's…sonic and stuff. Look Kurt, just hang on for a minute, okay? Don't move…I'm just gonna do…a thing."
Kurt huffed and fell against the wall, folding his arms. The sound of mechanical feet marching was echoing ever closer with each second and Blaine seemed to have lost the minuscule sense of urgency he had. He was now talking to the door. Or the glowing pen, Kurt wasn't sure.
"No, NO! Please…come on!" His hands collided hard with the door in a desperate slap, before his forehead thudded down to hit the glass.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid–"
"Blaine? Blaine what–"
"Oh nothing. Except everything. Except not really but most of it yeah," Blaine raked a hand through his hair, "You know I told you my great big awesome plan about getting everybody out and it was all safe and dandy? Well turns out that locking everybody out effectively…well…locks us…in."
He looked at Kurt sheepishly, his hand still in his hair.
Kurt couldn't speak for a moment. He wondered if it was possible for his brain to short-circuit and shut down completely.
"I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you right, I thought you just said that we were locked inside. Do you ever think anything through! Or do you just make it up as you go along like a bumbling idiot!"
Blaine groaned, "I totally had a plan! It was a perfectly fool proof plan as well! Everyone would get out, no one would die, I would save the day and then skip off into the sunset! I just forgot to…fine tune some of the um…details."
"I'm going to fine tune your head in a minute if you don't shut up!" Kurt seized Blaine by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him so close their noses were almost touching, "Look Blaine I trust you and all, but if you don't get us out of here right now , God help me I will burn your cardigan collection and make you watch!"
Blaine swallowed and Kurt eyes definitely did not focus on the bob of his Adam's apple as he did so.
"Look, Kurt I –shit!"
His arms were around Kurt's waist, spinning them both into the gap between a cupboard and the wall and if Kurt had thought they were close before, it was nothing compared to now. Every inch of his body from his ankles to his shoulder was pressed against Blaine's.
"What the –"
And then Blaine's hand was over his mouth, pressing against his lips as his dark eyes begged Kurt not to make a sound.
Over the sounds of their mingled breathing and his hammering heart, Kurt could hear three sets of stoic footsteps slowing to a march. Mumbled conversation with words too quiet to hear and Kurt was blaming his pounding heart and breathlessness on the gratuitous amounts of running he had been forced to do, rather than his teasingly close proximity to Blaine.
His hand was still against his mouth, but Blaine had closed his eyes, his teeth worrying his bottom lip and he looked like he was praying.
A bright beam of red light fanned across the end of the hall, leaving trickles of static in its wake and passing within inches of where their toes were forced together.
The hand on Kurt's waist tightened, thumb pressing into the skin above his hipbone hard enough to bruise. He cursed his teenage hormones to the depths of hell for feeling the need to make themselves apparent while he was running and hiding for his life, accompanied by an unrequited crush who seemed to have been on the receiving end of an entire personality transplant. Maybe the universe really did hate him.
"Area clear," a David's voice said, "He must have gone another way."
Minutes ticked on and finally, finally the sounds of three feet marching away reached Kurt's ears. Blaine let out a deep sigh of relief that tickled the hair at Kurt's temples.
"Sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand from Kurt's mouth at last, "I just..."
He pulled them from the alcove.
"Okay, so I wasn't entirely honest with you. There is a way we can get out, it was just one I'd hoped to avoid."
"Is it…dangerous?" Kurt offered.
"No…not so much. I was just trying to gage how much madness I can show you before you slap me in the face and run away screaming. This…isn't going to be for the fainthearted."
"Blaine I think if I was going to do that, I would have already. It's been high on my list of priorities sure, but right now I just want to get out of here. I think my quota for madness is pretty much indefinite by now."
"Okay. Good. Well. Come on then…I guess. It's time you met a friend of mine."
"I thought you said everyone got out?"
"Well when I say…friend."
"No. Fucking. Way."
Kurt had backed up until his back collided with the cellar door. His hand was scrambling at where he knew the handle was even though he knew it was locked because Blaine had pointed that glowing pen at it and mentioned the finer points of being locked in somewhere. And Kurt knew he probably wouldn't be able to leave anyway. His legs wouldn't hold him.
It was the box again, just as smug and silent and blue as before.
God that blue. Kurt couldn't handle it.
Except now it was in the cellar of an auditorium two hours away from Dalton and how the hell had Blaine managed to get that here on the bus without The Warblers noticing.
"Kurt, breathe."
"But it was in Dalton. On the third floor, next to my French classroom! It was there and then it was gone and I thought I'd…how can it be here?"
"Oh, so you've met already?"
Kurt let out a choking scoff that sounded like a sob.
"Yeah. We've…met. Blaine it's a box."
"Yes it's a box. It's a wonderful box. Don't insult the box."
"I just…Blaine I thought you said you had some other way of getting out of here. Now In case you hadn't noticed we are locked underground. The robot boys will find us eventually."
Blaine was smiling and looking as smug as his box as he leant against the door.
"Blaine. Who are you?"
Blue eyes met brown and they held each other there for a long time.
"I'm the same person I was Kurt. I am. I'm just…a little bit more. Kurt, do you trust me?"
Kurt nodded in spite of himself.
"Just take a look. Come on, it's okay."
Kurt took a step and another step forwards until he was in front of the door, one hand braced on the metal handle. Blaine's hand was warm and comforting between his shoulder blades. He took a breath and pushed.
"Holy fucking shit."
"I know."
"The interior shade of coral really clashes with the outside shade of blue."
"I kno– Kurt what? That's what you're focusing on?"
"I'm just saying."
Kurt moved forwards, the floor warm under his toes.
The room must have been twice the size of the Hummel/Hudson household, stretching to glorifying heights like Dalton's entrance hall. The walls seemed to glow with their own ethereal light, each one brighter than the next.
The whole place was buzzing with activity and electricity despite being deserted and still and Kurt felt the memory of a tingle under his skin. The energy of the place was soaring through his veins. He felt as though he could fly.
Blaine was ahead of him, walking backwards up a set of glass stairs, his arms spread wide as though to encompass the whole place. He was smiling bigger and brighter than Kurt had ever seen before.
"This is The TARDIS."
Kurt laughed. He couldn't help himself.
"It's…"
"Don't tell me, insane? Amazing? Bigger on the inside?"
"I was going to say beautiful. But yes, yes, yes to all those things."
Blaine's smile was so huge and so bright he could have given a supernova a run for its money. He turned away from Kurt, flinging his blazer off and over a railing. His tie was gone, his sleeves pushed up and his hair sticking up in every which way and he spun around a centre consol. He was laughing like a child, giddier than Kurt had ever seen him.
Kurt followed him up the steps, leaning against the rail to watch as h flicked switches and pulled a lever or two, ringing a bell with a flourish and running a loving hand over a plain centre panel.
And then he stopped all at once, his back to Kurt, his hands gripping the edge of the consol.
"I'm not human Kurt."
Kurt's heart seemed to have grown larger and larger, until it was filling him up from his throat to his feet. The burning itch that precedes tears was permeating behind his eyes.
He turned, and he looked scared. So, so scared.
"What are you?"
His voice was a choked whisper.
"I'm a Time Lord. I…this is my…my time machine. But she's also kind of a space ship, which is cool. I'm from a planet…called Gallifrey… and I…"
He seemed to run out of steam, his words trailing off as he looked at Kurt beseechingly.
"Please say something."
Kurt's throat was too dry for words but he tried because Blaine looked like he was about to cry and Kurt didn't think he could take it as he realised what Blaine was afraid of.
He was scared Kurt would reject him.
"What…um. What are you…doing here? At Dalton, I mean?"
Blaine's hands were in his hair again, a seemingly stress-related habit Kurt decided as he watched him tug at the roots. The remnants of gel left the hair in spikey clumps pointing in every direction.
Kurt reached forwards, tugging Blaine's wrist down.
"Hey. Stop that. You'll go prematurely bald."
Blaine smiled.
"I got a call from an old, old friend. Mickey. He lives in England but for some reason has recently been putting a lot of time and effort into researching acapella singing groups. Apparently there was something suspicious about the top groups of the top American schools. Something happened in England when a load of them went to tour last year, and it was all hushed up the government. Anyway he gave me a call and asked if I wanted to check it out. I mean I wasn't doing anything else and when you wake up one morning with the face of an American teenager there's not you can do without looking suspicious – and I tend to look suspicious most of the time anyway. So fitting into private school was really no problem."
He was off on a tangent now, arms waving and pacing around and around the circular platform.
"But I…well I got sucked in I guess. I got entranced by the Dalton way of life, and who can blame me really. It was nice to have a break for a while and sing some songs. Not much singing goes on in the TARDIS, it's hard to harmonise on your own and I'd forgotten how much I loved singing. And then I was gonna give it up, I really was but…then you came along."
He stopped again, eyes fixed on Kurt.
"You don't meet a human like you every day, Kurt Hummel. And I liked you. I wanted a friend and you were so funny and charming and I was addicted to your company.
"And then there were coffee dates and French classes and singing practice and scheduled meal times. And you and I would watch musicals and Disney films and sing duets and I just…I didn't know what to do.
"I was so close you know. So close to giving up Dalton before you came along. Time is so boring when it goes in the right order but something about you made me feel like I was flying again.
"I think the TARDIS felt a bit neglected, but Kurt you have to believe me. I have never felt about a human the way I feel about you.
"And then Mickey was all back on my case and nagging and I really want to know why he's obsessed with bringing down singing groups. And sure The Warblers are a little uptight and a little old-fashioned but I just thought it was part of their thing. And then…well. You were there on the stage. Apparently they are multi-dimensional interspecies Chromo-forms, just like Mickey suspected. Which means I'm never gonna hear the end of his gloating, but it also means that they are insanely pissed off right now. And they know I'm here, which is a very bad thing."
Kurt couldn't help himself any more. He threw himself forward, looping his arms around Blaine's neck and hugging him as tightly as he could muster.
Blaine laughed deep and low into his ear.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry I talk too much, I should learn to shut up sometimes."
Kurt pulled back, rubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes and nose. He laughed faintly.
"So you're an alien time traveller whose been masquerading as a schoolboy in order to plan a mutiny on one of the highest ranking acapella singing groups in America, but on the way you became my best friend and right now there are very angry robots after your blood because they think it's your fault they lost the singing competition. Did I miss anything?"
"No…no that seems about right. Oh, and also my real name isn't Blaine Anderson. I kind of stole his identity and left him with no memory in a flat in England with a large sum of money left to him by some wealthy relatives he's never heard of. I'm sure he's doing just fine."
"Oh."
"I'm The Doctor."
"The Doctor? Just…The Doctor?"
"Yes. Problem?"
"No. I just don't really… Can I just keep calling you Blaine?"
"I'd really prefer it if you–"
"I'm calling you Blaine, Blaine. Try and stop me."
"I said you would be a handful."
Kurt smiled.
"So now what do we do?"
Blaine grinned at him, his eyes sparking with delight, "Now we fight some robots!"
A/N: So The Warblers are robots, Blaine's the Doctor and Kurt is overrun by so many hormones he can't think straight. It's going to be fun from here on out.
Thoughts/messages/ideas? Don't hesitate to suggest!