Songbird
Summary: Blaine's a young songwriter who's stuck in a rut. Kurt's an independent cyborg with music software installed. Blaine knows that Kurt could totally be his meal ticket if he'd just freaking cooperate for once. Kurt just wants Blaine to understand that he's not just a machine, even if that means sitting back and letting him flounder. AU, Klaine.
Disclaimer: Not a chance.
AN: Again, thank you so much for all your feedback and encouragement. I appreciate every single one. I wasn't expecting anywhere near the sheer amount of story alerts that I've gotten on this fanfic, you guys are awesome and amazing.
Chapter Three: Settling
"Medium drip, please," Blaine told the barista, handing over a few dollars as payment and taking his coffee with a sigh. Next to him, Wes clapped him on the shoulder and steered him over to a table, picking up his finished latte on the way.
"Going badly?" he asked the moment they were both seated, taking a sip and preparing for the inevitable. Blaine buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly.
"You don't even know. It's not a lack of playing skill, I can do cover songs fine. It's just…I can't write worth a crap."
Wes raised a brow.
"What have you written lately?" he asked, and Blaine let out another groan, running his hands through his hair.
"Oh my god, Wes, the best thing I've come up with lately is 'Loneliness and Ramen'. This is not going well."
Wes flinched and took another sip, shaking his head at his friend.
"No. No it's not. Beats last month's ditty: 'I'm Gay and Won't Tell my Father'." Blaine balled up his receipt and threw it across the table, nailing Wes on the shoulder. "You've got to get some new material. Or even if your lyrics suck, make it catchy enough to make people forget about how bad the words are."
"Every time I feel like I get something, it gets away from me. I feel like that software was supposed to help me keep everything together, but it just made everything more confusing."
"….dude, not even the best songwriter could make 'Loneliness and Ramen' anything but unadulterated awful. The only thing computer programs are going to do for you is make you all too aware of how bad you are right now, especially since you don't know how to use it to its full potential." The Asian man took another sip, furrowing his brows at Blaine, who looked about three steps away from finding a very tall roof. "Look, man, why don't you start by thinking of a kind of song that you'd want to hear? Not just the kind of song that other people want to hear."
Blaine frowned.
"What if I want to hear a song about a poor sod who spends his evenings sobbing into his cup noodles?"
"Except that if you were that pathetic I'd have to stop being your friend immediately," Wes snapped, and Blaine raised his hands in surrender.
"I kid, I'm not really that lame. It's just frustrating."
"Quit being a baby," Wes ordered, setting his now empty cup down on the table, "If I wanted to hear whining, I'd go home and babysit. We're grown-ups, it's time to get with it. Your existential crisis comes second to the fact that you have a job that pays, so focus on that first. Anyway, tell me again about this neighbor of yours."
Blaine had opened his mouth halfway through Wes' lecture but shut it, then narrowed his eyes.
"You yelled at me, you get nothing."
"You deserved it."
"Did not. And there's nothing to tell."
"Lies. You blew me off for him last week and I haven't gotten to interrogate you yet—" Wes was interrupted by a commercial that suddenly blasted loudly throughout the coffee shop, overpowering the music and conversation, and the man winced. "God, why are commercials always so much louder than regular television?"
Don't forget, next week's release of Carbon Corporation's newest household helper will only be available for the first five- hundred people to pre-order! Equipped with the latest OS, Carbon Corp.'s newest release is subtle, quiet, and unobtrusive, fitting easily in a closet or pantry. Needing only three hours of charge before use, this unit comes with the latest antivirus and can be programmed to—
The television cut out as one of the baristas grabbed the remote and lowered the volume. Wes rolled his eyes.
"My mom's already ordered one of those, months ago. Says she hates vacuuming, and can't wait to make a robot do it. Nothing beats a computer with legs."
"My mom says it's too lazy to do that," Blaine muttered, watching the end of the lowered commercial. "I have this terrible fear that one day, robots and computers are going to look like people and you're going to have to know what to look for to tell them apart."
"You've been watching too many movies," Wes said flippantly, "Now, back to your cute neighbor. What's he like?"
"Kind of funny, actually," Blaine began resentfully, but picked up speed as he kept talking, "He's kind of unusual. He just turned eighteen but he lives on his own, and somehow got the landlord to let him paint the walls." Wes whistled in appreciation.
"Going to college in town?"
"No idea, didn't ask. Amazing cook though, and dresses well. Kind of pretty, in a guy sort of way. Pale skin, brown hair, bright eyes. Tall."
"So… totally your type."
Wide-eyed, Blaine leaned forward and made a shushing motion with his hands which was promptly ignored.
"Man, I don't think about him like that! I barely know him, to start. He sets off my gaydar, but that's not something you just ask. It's something you ask," he corrected, "But not me. It's not my business, anyway. He seems really self-sufficient for being so young. And apparently he can use Fortissimo."
"Unlike you."
This time, instead of a receipt, Blaine pelted his best friend with his empty coffee cup.
"Fine, Wes. Yes, unlike me," he growled, catching stink-eye from the barista and picking his cup up off the ground. Thinking, he turned it over in his hands, settling eventually on tracing his fingers over his name that was written on it. "He's interesting and different."
"Not only is he interesting, but you're interested. Even if it's not in a boyfriend-like way, you're interested."
An eyeroll, but Blaine reluctantly inclined his head a little. There'd be no point in lying to Wes; the guy was persistent and too observant for his own good even if they hadn't been best friends since the first day of high school. To tell the truth, he did find himself interested in Kurt, if only for curiosity's sake. Everything about him, to Blaine at least, seemed a little bit out of the ordinary in a way that he couldn't quite pin down and couldn't dislike in the way that he disliked most unusual things. Absently, the side of his lips quirked up, and Wes narrowed his eyes at him.
Interesting. Very interesting.
"Finn Hudson, I am not your calculator!"
"But Kurt, I lost mine—"
"Don't care!"
"Come on, Kurt! Please?"
"No!"
"But I need it for my geometry homework. Do you want me to fail before I even start class?"
"I don't care. I told you that I'm not your calculator, do you hear me? Go home and look for yours, it's probably under a mountain of moldy Doritos."
This was the exchange that Blaine heard loud and clear while walking up the stairs to his apartment. Kurt's voice was obvious, high and annoyed, but the person named Finn's was much lower and sounded just a little bit like a dope. Blaine found himself hurrying just a little faster up the stairs, peering around the corner to try and observe.
A very, very tall boy was standing in Kurt's open doorway, looming over the shorter boy who stood straight and proud, face alight with righteous fury and what looked like resentment.
Blaine had seen Kurt vaguely irritated while he was moving in, muttering and grumbling over various things but so far had never heard him raise his voice, and certainly not angrily. He felt suddenly grateful that he was experiencing this secondhand instead of being the recipient.
Kurt spoke again, voice lower and words too quiet to make out, before backing up and closing the door smartly. 'Finn' scratched his head and sighed, looking frustrated and kind of confused. Blaine wondered if he ought to try sneaking in behind him to get inside but this train of thought was cut off when the giant turned to face him, blinking as he caught sight of Blaine.
Who waved nervously.
"Er, hi there," he greeted, nervous smile matching his nervous wave. "Friend of Kurt's?"
"Brother, actually. Kind of. My mom married his dad." Finn replied with another sigh, returning his eyes to Kurt's door, "I probably shouldn't have asked him."
Blaine couldn't quite figure out why Kurt would be so upset over his stepbrother wanting to borrow his calculator, to be honest, but nodded nevertheless like he understood.
Suddenly, the door opened and Kurt popped his head out, having apparently traded in his rage for what looked like hurt instead. Hurt and resignation and stress were written all over his face and his eyes were shadowed.
"Okay," he muttered, "But please don't do this again?"
Finn nodded vigorously and shuffled inside while Kurt caught sight of Blaine and inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Hello, Blaine. I'll see you around."
Blaine barely had time to reply before the door was shut and locked, a noise that sounded more final than it had any right to be.
"I'm sorry, Kurt," Finn had the moment he stepped inside, setting his bag down on the floor, "I can go home if you really don't want to."
"Of course I don't want to," Kurt retorted, voice still strangely subdued and quiet, "But you're my brother and you can't afford to fail your summer math, right? I can help you, and I guess I should. But that doesn't mean I want to. Let's just get this done, and then we can catch up a little."
"I'm sorry."
Kurt sighed, feeling inexplicably guilty like he'd kicked a puppy that had run into a wall, and settled down at the low-slung coffee table in the middle of his living room.
"Come on, forget about it. I just don't like being your human calculator. Get over here."
Finn scrambled over and Kurt appeared to zone out. He supposed that he could have tried harder to multitask and possibly carry on a conversation at the same time, but he honestly wasn't feeling particularly generous and Finn could suffer with feeling unbelievably awkward as the guy he thought of as his brother essentially shut himself down.
"Calculator initialized. Awaiting verbal input command."
"Aww, damnit Kurt. I hate it when you do this, you can't just talk to me at the same time?"
A tiny smirk lifted up a corner of Kurt's mouth as he repeated,
"Awaiting verbal input command, Finnessa Hudson."
"Now, that's just unnecessary," Finn grumbled, but nevertheless spread his homework out on the table and began rattling off equations and calculations.
Eventually they were finished, and Kurt came back to himself seconds after terminating the program, blinking as if he'd been in the dark for too long.
"Thanks, Kurt. I owe you one."
"Damn straight you do," Kurt replied, flopping over on his side, headbutting Finn in the thigh on his way down. The taller boy grunted but didn't move away, staring down to watch his stepbrother. "Hey, Finn?"
"Yeah?"
"…how's Dad?" he asked in a smaller voice, looking oddly insecure for someone who usually acted so big, "Is he taking care of himself and everything?" Finn blinked, then smiled.
"He misses you. We all kind of miss you, even though you're not far away. Mom was talking about how she wants to take you shopping the next time you're over and surprise you—oops, don't tell her I told you, and Burt's not hiding in the lab as much anymore. Dr. James from Carbon came over and talked to him and ended up staying for dinner, he said to tell you hi…" Finn trailed off as Kurt closed his eyes slowly, a tiny smile playing on his face. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just keep talking."
And Finn did. He talked about the things that Burt was working on even though Kurt had heard them all from him over the phone and last Friday's dinner and the new shirt that Carole had bought, and how he missed Rachel even though she was crazy and they were trying their best for a long distance relationship. He talked about how he was kind of scared to start college and how worried he was that the only person he'd know in his classes would be Puck, and he talked about how he wanted a dog but his mother had refused. Finally, he talked about Kurt, after making sure that he wouldn't be killed for it.
He talked about how was still a little hard to get used to the things that made him different but that he was trying and that he hoped things would only get better. He talked about how surprised he'd been when he realized that the idea of Kurt holding hands with a boy wasn't weird to him anymore. Kurt had reached out, eyes still closed, and briefly squeezed his fingers into the fabric at Finn's knee at that one. He talked about how angry he'd been at the acceptance boards for rejecting him on reasons he couldn't control.
Kurt sat up before Finn had a chance to apologize for events long past, stretching his arms over his head and dusting himself off. His whole manner seemed calmer and more relaxed after the few minutes of down time, all around more content, and he smiled fondly at his stepbrother.
"Hey, you said that Carole was cooking tonight, right? In payment for my helping you, you are going to call her and tell her that I'm coming with you, and that you'll be driving me back afterwards because taking two cars is stupid. Got that?" His voice was imperious but the smile didn't slip, and Finn returned it, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.
"Got it," he said, and took out his phone.
Blaine wondered if Kurt had felt like this, standing outside his door, brain racing and debating whether or not he should walk away and just forget the whole thing. He'd looked lost enough for it, certainly, but seeing it and feeling it himself were two entirely different things and Blaine didn't think that he liked the feeling.
He inhaled loudly, straightening to his full height and unclenching his hands from where they twined in his belt loops, a blatant indication of his nerves. It had been about three days since he'd witnessed Kurt's blowup with his brother and, thankfully, hadn't encountered any more since then. He saw Finn again the next day but didn't hear any shouts or insults, instead opening his door just in time to see the gargantuan boy step out of Kurt's apartment, leaning in just before leaving to tug him in for a hug.
Blaine raised his hand to knock.
When Kurt had been here, it'd be convenient enough that Blaine had just opened the door up on him and made the decision for him. There was no way that Blaine could be so lucky, he thought, staring at the door that remained stubbornly closed.
Finally, his fist met the door and the sound that followed seemed so much louder than it ought to have been allowed to be.
Seconds later, the door swung open and he was face to face with a curious Kurt.
"Oh, hello," he greeted, "How are you?"
"I'm, uh, good, thanks. You?"
"Just fine. Can I, um, help you with anything?"
Blaine gulped.
"I was sort of wondering… um. Er. You said that you knew how to use Fortissimo, right?"
"I did."
Now or never.
"I was wondering if you could show me how to use it. I need some serious help."
If that wasn't the last thing that Kurt was expecting him to ask, he wasn't sure what was.
AN2: And chapter three's done! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it. I love that so many people are reading this, and I hope that you continue to like it!