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. If I owned, I would be much richer than I am.

AN: Oh my god, you guys. Thank you so, so much for all of your comments and alerts and favorites. I really don't know what to say other than thank you, I'm so grateful. I've gotten a lot of comments from people saying that they were reluctant to read this at first and that they're happy that they did; this is really the most potent praise an author can receive, and I'm totally over the moon that I've had that sort of impact.

So many of you have reviewed more than once and I absolutely notice and ASDFGHJKL; I WANT TO HUG YOU ALL LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

A special shout-out to Number1KurtHummelFan, who reviewed almost every chapter in one sitting! I know that you were one of the people who weren't initially going to read this, and it makes me happier than anything that I was able to change your mind.

If you thought the last chapter was a little deep and heady, this one's a little more so.

Also, I really, really, REALLY dislike Karofsky. If you like him, please don't take my depiction personally. He will not be playing a major part in this story, so this chapter will likely be his only appearance.

Chapter Six: Cloudburst

Kurt was floating. Floating. He hadn't felt this light and bubbly since… well, he didn't know if he'd ever felt this intensely floaty in his entire life.

Seeing Blaine cry had broken his heart in almost every sense of the word. It had taken all he had, holding him tightly as if that alone would keep him from breaking, to keep from crying himself. Kurt thought that he knew how it felt.

He'd always known that his father had loved him, but he knew that liking boys was considered wrong. The very thought of being rejected by the one person who meant so much to him was crippling and froze him cold with absolute fear. He knew that he wasn't Blaine's father – thank everything for that, that'd just be weird- but the reaction was similar.

That Kurt meant enough to inspire such trepidation… it was sad to think about, but a little, tiny part of him unattached to emotional morals quivered a little with happiness.

He meant enough to Blaine for Blaine to tell him something he'd never told anyone.

Kurt could have exploded from the pride and admiration he'd felt for the other boy.

When Blaine had calmed down a little and his brain had caught up with his body, he'd seemed a little embarrassed at his reactions. Kurt had brushed it off because that was what he needed, and for the next while, they kept things light, caterwauling Loneliness and Ramen and All My Friends Are Dicks. When Blaine opened the front door to head back to his own apartment, Kurt had reached out a hand to pat his shoulder (Platonically! Platonically, he swore!), only to be yanked into another quick, impromptu hug before he was alone again.

The air was warm; it was August after all.

Absently, Kurt flexed his fingers, staring back inside his apartment for a few moments. Finally, he closed the door behind him and locked it, tossing his keys from hand to hand. A quick touch to his pocket assured him that he had his phone. Experimentally, he stretched, feeling the fabric around his legs stretch and move with him easily, the one advantage of wearing a looser set of pants that day. Kurt tapped his boots on the floor.

They were old and worn, but the soles were still strong and he wouldn't have to worry about them getting scuffed. He wouldn't be running too far anyway.

A breath ran through him like a fresh breeze and then Kurt Hummel had taken off, breaking into a run about halfway down the stairs, bolting out of the building, running until he'd worn off the extra energy and all he felt was exhilaration.

"Oh my god, you guys, I'm so screwed," Blaine bemoaned over his Jameson and ginger ale. He'd been sipping on it for the last half hour and it was only a third gone.

"You bet you are," David quipped, clapping him on the back, "You're drinking like you actually have some class. I thought for sure you'd be going for a beer or something."

"Beer is gross," Blaine muttered.

"Never stopped you before," David replied, taking a sip of his White Russian, "Need I remind you of your twenty-first birthday party?"

"Please don't, my head still hurts thinking about it."

"So, what exactly is the big deal?" Wes asked from Blaine's other side. All three of them were seated on stools at the part of the bar that no one really liked to sit, "When you texted me with 'Hey guys, it's Friday. Let's go out and get a drink!", I wasn't expecting a heart to heart. So you told him. Big whoop. Not that I'm not proud of you because I've thought that you've needed to tell someone for a good long time, but I fail to see the problem. You're gay, he's gay, and now you can be gay friends."

"Not big whoop, you jackass!" Blaine glared.

"Unless he wants to be more than gay friends and that's why he's all freaked out,"

Sometimes, Blaine really hated David. Wes was snide and kind of grumpy but he tended to avoid topics that made Blaine feel worse. David was calm and mellow and laid-back but seemed to make it his life's mission to dig into Blaine's soft spots with a kind, considerate stick.

"Do you want to be more than gay friends?"

"I don't know," No, Blaine was not whining. He didn't whine. He only wined, and even then that was only when he wanted to make an impression. "I mean, he's great. And…you know, I trusted him enough to tell him I was gay and all that."

David raised an eyebrow, demanding further explanation. He knew Blaine, and knew that Blaine's flippant 'and all that' meant quite a bit. The curly-haired man sighed and took another sip of his drink.

"Like I said, he's just…he's just awesome. He's smart and hysterically funny and really, really attractive. He's stable, and he can cook and he's really got his shit together, and for some reason he actually seems to like me."

"Go for it, then," David suggested, "He likes you, you very obviously like him. He made a run for it when we met, but he can clearly keep you in line. And, bonus points, he's gay. So go for it."

Blaine groaned again, dropping his head to the table with a loud thunk.

"So, so, so screwed."

So, how's this for a song title? My Kitchen Has Ants Again. –B

What? Blaine, no. That sucks. Also, get some bug spray and quit leaving pancake plates out. –K

Don't judge, you love pancakes. –B

Yes, and isn't it magical? I can eat pancakes and not have ants. Gasp. –K

Don't be a hater. Maybe I should get an ant farm and keep them as pets. –B

…do not go anywhere, oh my god. I will be over in thirty seconds, bringing Armageddon with me. Do. Not. Move. (Haters gon' hate.)-K

"What the hell do you want?" Kurt snarled, grip tightening on the handles of his grocery bags. He'd hoped to never see Karofsky again in his life, much less in front of his apartment a month after the Fall semester had begun. "I don't know how you found this place, but I want you out. Now."

"What's your problem, Hummel?" the bulky guy asked, and approached. Kurt tried his damndest to suppress his anxiety as he was loomed over. His hands were white-knuckled on his bags. "Got an issue with me standing in a public place, pretty boy? Think you're better? Maybe I should stick around, I bet you've got to get inside to recharge, huh? Plug yourself right into the wall, right?"

Show no fear. Show no fear. Show no fear.

Kurt was trembling and he wasn't sure whether it was from rage or something else.

"I told you. Get. Out. Get out right now and don't come back."

"What are you gonna do about it? Get Daddy and bring another lawsuit down on every decent human being who doesn't want your kind around?" Karofsky advanced closer but Kurt stood his ground, refusing to move even when a meaty hand came up and curled around his collar, threatening to yank.

"My kind? You are a bigot and you don't deserve the title of human," Kurt ground out, venom dripping with every word, "You are a closeted homophobe who's too fucking scared to not be a coward. You are a sexual predator who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'no'. You made my life hell and guess what? I won."

The threat on his collar became a promise but instead of taking it like he used to, too scared to give himself away, Kurt resisted.

Delicate porcelain hands came up, dropped their groceries, and grasped Karofsky around the wrists and squeezed so tightly that he could feel bones shift under his grip.

"S-s-shit, Hummel, let me go!"

"Don't like it when it's you who's forced into a corner, do you?" The shorter boy hissed, walking forward and forcing Karofsky back, "It's not much fun, is it? I wonder, if you keep saying no, will I stop and let you go? You didn't. How good of a person am I? How good of a human? It's a good question, isn't it? You assaulted me, threatened me, and hurt me, and then you turned right around and told everyone you could that I was dangerous?" Kurt forced his voice to lighten, the words sick and poisonous, and his stomach roiled. He wouldn't be getting through the day without saying goodbye to his lunch, he knew. He squeezed harder. "Surely, you're doomed. A big, dangerous, robot like me?" He tsked. "The way I see it is that if I'm exactly as you say, you're definitely doomed."

"Fuck, let go!"

"You still didn't give me an answer, Dave Karofsky. Do you think I'll stop? I want an answer. How good of a person do you think I am?"

Kurt couldn't make himself breathe. His heart was racing and his head was light but he didn't give in.

"Y-y-you'll stop," the larger boy finally hissed, tears beginning to slip down his cheeks from the pain in his wrists, "Please, stop. Let me go."

"You're right," Kurt said, loosening his grip and releasing slowly. "You're right, I will. Because I'm better. I'm human just like you, and if you don't get down those stairs this very second, I'll be helping you down them and your parents will be getting a nice apology a few days from now from Carbon Corp. You set foot back here again? You send me anything threatening? You blab to anyone else where it's not your business or theirs? It won't be just my father knocking down your door this time."

Karofsky scrambled away from him and bolted down the stairs.

"You hurt me first, Dave Karofsky. Don't ever come back here."

And then Kurt was alone. Almost immediately, he began to tremble. Leaning down, he tried to pick up the bags he'd dropped but his hands were shaking too badly to get a grip on them. His stomach was churning and his breaths came through shallow and erratic.

"Shit, shit, shit," he hissed, stopping for the time being and sagging against the wall, dropping his face into his palms. Half-panicked, he brought up his antivirus in the hopes that a scan might help calm him down.

"Kurt? Who was that dude who just came flying down the- whoa, are you okay?"

Kurt froze as if the world had turned to ice, terminating the program.

Blaine was staring around the corner at him, eyes wide with curiosity and concern. Kurt lurched to his feet and frantically tried to gather his bags again. His hands still wouldn't cooperate though, and he couldn't breathe again and any second now he was going to start crying and shit he didn't want this. He fumbled with his keys and couldn't even separate the correct one from its fellows.

"Whoa, whoa, easy."

And suddenly there was a presence next to him.

Blaine knelt down and stopped Kurt's jerky movements, covering his hands in his and squeezing firmly.

"I don't know what's up, but calm down. It's gonna be okay. Give me your key, I'll open the door for you. Your bags too, I'll get them. Just relax, it's gonna be okay."

Blaine took his keys from Kurt's unresisting hands and unlocked the door with an easy click, scooping up his bags. The second the door was open, Kurt had taken off like a shot, gravitating toward his bathroom like a homing beacon to throw his head over the toilet bowl, expelling everything he'd eaten that day.

Unexpectedly, warm hands were smoothing his bangs away from his face and the tears chose that moment to come, slipping down his cheeks and down his nose and for a good while, all Kurt could do was kneel in front of the toilet, gripping it tightly to hold himself up, sobbing as if his heart would break. He was crying about goddamned Karofsky and how he'd almost gotten over everything from the last half year. He was crying over not getting in to college. He was crying over how his wonderful next door neighbor on whom he had a massive attraction was being so kind to him, and how he'd never tell him how he felt.

He didn't remember Blaine asking if there was anyone Kurt needed him to call and he didn't know when he finally lifted his head only to be handed a glass of water. He didn't remember Blaine running a cool wet washcloth over his face and a little bit later, a fluffy bath towel.

By the time Kurt could breathe and think and function like a normal human being again, he was huddled on his couch next to Blaine, who'd turned the TV on and slung an arm lightly over Kurt's shoulders. The curly-haired boy was focused on the screen and Kurt blinked slowly, tilting his head to accidentally brush his nose against the other boy's shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered finally, voice low and just a little bit hoarse, "I don't know what I would have done."

"You were a bit of a mess, but you would have managed somehow," Blaine replied, "I just helped speed up the process."

He did more than that but Kurt remained quiet, trying to focus on the television show. It didn't work very well; his proximity to Blaine was making him hypersensitive to everything around him.

"Want to talk about what happened?" Blaine asked after a while, "It might make you feel better."

"I don't…really want to," Kurt said lowly and closed his eyes, "But that guy… he was from my high school. Karofsky. He was always kind of a dick, but last year it really came to a head, and it took the threat of a law suit from my father to get him to back off. I have no idea how he found out where I lived." He didn't mention what Karofsky had done or said or what he himself had done or said, instead choosing to nestle just a tiny bit closer closer, as if Blaine's warmth was some sort of magnetic pull.

He missed the brief flash of comprehension in Blaine's eyes.

"Did he…?"

"No," Kurt assured, "I told him off and sent him packing. If he shows up again, he's too stupid to live."

Blaine gulped briefly, as if mentally debating what he wanted to say next.

"Is he…dangerous?" That could be taken in more than one way and Blaine meant all of them. Any of them. Any of the ways that mattered, which basically added up to wanting to know whether Karofsky was someone who could be considered dangerous to Kurt or to Blaine himself. Kurt considered this before shaking his head, changing his mind and nodding, then shaking his head again.

"If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, I'd have said no. But after this…kind of yes. But I really don't think he'll have the balls to come back, so no. At any rate, you'd be okay."

That wasn't all that Blaine meant but he let it go. He leaned a little and tugged Kurt the rest of the way. The younger boy had been close but not close enough to be comfortable, hovering between pulling away and full-on leaning; Blaine decided to make the decision and if Kurt pulled away, well…

But he wasn't.

He was still and quiet but less tense. Eventually, Kurt gave into the temptation that was Blaine's hand drawing idle circles on his upper arm and sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut and letting all of the tension drain out of his frame to relax fully.

"I'm sorry for this," Kurt said softly, eyes still closed. "That you've got to deal with me like this."

"Last I checked, you suffered through singing three rounds of All My Friends Are Dicks with me to make me feel better. This is nothing. Besides, I'm kind of a snuggler anyway."

"All My Friends Are Dicks is funny at least," Kurt's voice was slightly breathy, as if he were almost about to fall asleep, "I think I might be a snuggler too. I just never really had anyone to do it with before, so I never really knew." He thought that if he could, he might stay like this forever. He felt Blaine's smile more than he saw it, because not even Kurt could see through his own eyelids.

"Snuggle away," Blaine informed him, a teasing lilt to his voice, "Use me, abuse me,"

"Sorry, Eurythmics already did that. You're a long time too late," Kurt countered, "Sweet dreams are made of this,"

"Who am I to disagree?" Blaine whispered, "I travel the world and the seven seas,"

"Everybody's looking for something…" Kurt opened his eyes, raising a single brow, "You do know your vintage pop music, don't you? Color me impressed."

"I'm pretty damn impressive," Blaine boasted jokingly, "Think I could write a song about how autotune has ruined the world?"

"I think you'd have better luck with All My Friends Are Dicks."

"What about—"

"Blaine."

"…yes?"

Kurt smiled.

"Shut up."

AN2: And thus ends chapter six! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment telling me what you thought. I am also graceful with criticism, so feel free to doll that out as well.