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: Ahahahaha, no.

AN: ASDFGHJKL; I am being spoiled by you guys. Thank you all for your reviews last chapter! Normally I reply to them, but there wasn't enough time in between chapters for me to really do so and not feel silly about it. So if you have any questions, I'll totally answer them if they're not directly related to the plot/will be important to the story.

Thank you again, and even if you don't review, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Seven: Breaking

The first day that it was cool enough for Kurt to go long-sleeved comfortably was the day that Blaine nearly burned down his own kitchen trying to bake his own birthday cake. The smoke alarm had gone off and black smoke had poured through the cracks in the door and Kurt was sure that people were smelling it blocks away, and the next thing Blaine knew, he was being scolded and kicked out of his kitchen at the same time.

Kurt had been scared half out of his mind and blazingly angry (seriously, how hard was it to follow a box mix, for god's sake?) but he'd rolled up his sleeves anyway and told Blaine that he was going to wait in the living room or anywhere else that wasn't the kitchen until he said he could come back in and god help him if he set foot in there sooner.

The theme that the rest of the night followed would be known forever as Blaine's 22nd Birthday Doomsday Happytime by anyone who wasn't named Kurt or Blaine. Kurt would disagree vehemently on that, but when a name stuck, it stuck.

An hour of swearing, sweating, and scraping char off of the one pan that could be used for cake later, Kurt had re-entered the living room, a short, two layer vanilla cake covered in white frosting in his hands. Blaine stared at it, dumbstruck.

"Hey, you didn't have to…"

"Hush," Kurt said matter-of-factly, sitting down and handing Blaine a plate, setting the cake on the coffee table. "Consider it making up for the fact that I had to find out when your birthday was by saving your kitchen from a fiery death."

"You could have asked," Blaine replied.

"And you could have told," The corner of Kurt's lips tiled up and he ran a knife through the cake, placing a piece on Blaine's plate first. The tiny smile grew wider and became something inexplicably sweet, "Happy Birthday, Blaine."

"Come out with me tonight!" Blaine blurted out, causing Kurt's jaw to fall open in shock. "Wes and David and a few other friends are throwing me a bash tonight. You should…you should come with me. I-if you want to. Everyone's real nice, and-"

The look on Kurt's face was considering and unsure but after a few moments he nodded, biting his lip.

"O…kay," he said delicately, "I can do this. Dress code?"

"Just yourself is fine."

Kurt glared.

"Seriously, wear whatever. I have to tell most of my friends to not wear sweatpants, you'll be more than fine. If you've gotta have guidelines…" Blaine trailed off, before smirking, "Wear something fun."

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise, before smiling in that way that made his eyes crinkle up playfully.

"You got it."

Blaine gaped and Kurt preened, standing out among the other patrons like a lorikeet in the pigeon pen.

"Fun enough for you?" he asked loftily, watching as Blaine's eyes traveled from the red top hat perched upon his head to the perfectly matched sleeveless dress shirt in the same shade with black cravat, down further to the pitch black skinny jeans and red Doc Martens.

"Holy Mary…"

"I am going to take that as both a yes and a compliment," Kurt said, raising a hand to tap Blaine's jaw shut, "Flies are getting in, where do I sit?" Blaine would have said something but all he could think of was holy hell did that boy know how to dress and then the theme from Jaws because Wes was totally creeping up behind Kurt, hands outstretched.

"Uh…"

Too late.

Wes draped himself over Kurt as if they'd known each other forever, the chestnut-haired boy yelping in surprise and making the instinctual attempt to squirm away.

"Hey there," the older guy crooned, and to Kurt's credit, he didn't stagger under his weight, "I didn't know you were coming tonight. Come, come, sit by me." He took Kurt by the wrist and pulled him over to where he'd been sitting with David, gesturing to a stool. Blaine followed, hoping that their friendship would survive the night intact.

"Do you always have your birthday party in a bar?" Kurt asked over his shoulder, sitting down on the offered stool and ordering a soda with some fruit syrup.

"It was kind of decided for me," Blaine replied, shoving David off the stool next to the taller boy so that he could sit down, "I forgot that you're underage, I'm sorry. Do you mind it?" He conveniently left out the fact that he'd had his share of drinks in college even when he had been underage. Kurt shrugged, shaking his head.

"No, it's fine. It's your birthday." He smiled, "Besides, I don't drink even if I was old enough. Bad experience a few years back, ending up ralfing on the guidance counselor's shoes and waxing poetic about how much a certain old movie made me sob. That was enough of an experience, really." Blaine snorted and peered into the glass his younger friend had just been handed. It was a bright, bright red, and he wondered if it had been ordered to match his outfit. "Sprite and cherry. You want some?" Kurt offered, and Blaine hesitated briefly before reaching out and taking a quick sip.

The fizz was sharp and sweet with the cherry giving it an unexpected kick and Blaine licked his lips after, seriously considering just bypassing the alcohol and ordering himself one of these instead.

"That's good. Real good."

"Hey, glad to see you here," David was back and addressing Kurt.

"Hi," the boy replied, tipping his hat. "David, right? I'm sorry that I kind of ran for it last time we met."

"Don't worry about it, I know Wes is terrifying. Look at that dude. I'd run too."

Kurt snorted with amusement, eyeing Wes, who was certainly being terrifying at the moment, hanging all over the guy on the other side of him, a tall blonde who looked used to this and long suffering. When Blaine was dragged away by Flint, whom he hadn't seen in six months, he didn't worry too much about leaving Kurt for a few minutes. David could get along with anyone and now that he'd seemed to bring Kurt out of his shell a little, Blaine really didn't worry.

Really.

Not a bit.

Everything would be fine.

Which was why he wasn't expecting the lights to dim twenty minutes later and for the random groove tunes played for ambience to lower and be replaced with something different and very familiar. He also didn't expect for a spotlight to shine on the glistening surface of the bar itself and for David to clamber on top of it, pulling Kurt up with him by the hand.

"Hey, birthday boy!" He hooted, slinging an arm around Kurt's shoulders. Shockingly, the red-bedecked boy was grinning as if he'd never had more fun in his life and the bartender, far too used to these kinds of shenanigans, had merely sighed and begun to mix another drink, "Your boy loves musicals too!"

For the second time that night and for a completely different reason, Blaine's jaw dropped open.

"To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing! A need to express, to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane, going mad!"

Yes, that was Kurt's voice, he'd know those crystal tones anywhere. Yes, that was definitely Kurt up there, having lost his hat which was now sitting jauntily upon David's head. Blaine couldn't move.

Until Kurt did.

No.

No, this couldn't possibly be happening. Blaine had to be imagining things or he must have had too many drinks already (he hadn't even had any yet) because there was no way that Kurt was standing on a bar. With Wes and David. Except that not only was Kurt standing on a bar with Wes and David, he was dancing on a bar with Wes and David. And he was watching Blaine, those bright eyes alight with amusement and fun.

Kurt worked with computers and technology for a living and cooked and may or may not have owned (and worn) a ruffled housewife apron at one point. He also, rather shamelessly to his credit or misfortune, loved being in the spotlight.

If that spotlight happened to be on a Broadway stage or on top of a bar, he wasn't going to complain.

Smug, Kurt continued to sing, pulling some of the more grounded and stationary routines from his years as a Cheerio. Sue Sylvester might have been a slave-driving dictator, but never let it be said that she couldn't choreograph a good routine. He'd have to thank her later.

Holy. Freaking. Crap. Holy freaking crap, Blaine didn't think that those hips had ever existed on a boy before.

"Come on, birthday boy!" Wes called, "We saved a space for you!"

There was only one proper answer to the unasked question, and Blaine's answer was to bolt over there, hopping up onto a stool to pull himself up onto the bar to join his friends. The bartender rolled his eyes and fixated on cleaning some martini glasses. Blaine made a mental note to leave him a very big tip.

"How'd they rope you into this?" he half-shouted to Kurt over the cheers, and Kurt swiped his hat back from David and set it right on top of Blaine's curls.

"Who said there was any roping?" he called back when the lyrics lulled, "I'm having a blast!"

It had been a long-running joke from high school that if there was something Blaine could jump or climb on during a performance, he probably would. Now he wondered why he hadn't thought of this sooner.

"WINE AND BEER!"

Neither of them had the excuse of being drunk but somehow, Blaine felt that it was better like this because it meant that he'd remember every little second of this, and that Kurt was dancing with him and he was dancing with Kurt solely because they wanted to and could. Thinking could come later though, now was the time to revel and see if he could coerce Kurt into putting on a paper party hat.

"Okay, so that might be the best birthday party I've ever had," Blaine said breathlessly as he and Kurt walked up the stairs of the apartment building. Blaine himself was still humming La Vie Boheme happily under his breath and Kurt felt like he had laughed more that night than he had since graduation.

"I'm happy you had a good time. Your friends are hysterical."

"Yeah, they're kinda nuts. I hope they weren't too much."

Blaine wasn't sure why, but when Kurt fixed him with an amusedly challenging stare, he felt that he'd suddenly opened up a locked box. A locked box that probably should have stayed locked if he wanted to keep his sanity. …screw it, the sanity was probably long gone anyway.

"When mine comes around, you ought to come and meet my friends. Hang out with them long enough and you'll know exactly where I learned to party. No bars though; no need to tempt any of the ones with fake IDs."

Never mind that Rachel would likely try to hijack his party and turn it into a concert for the musical stylings of Madame Rachel 'Barbra' Berry, and Puck would try to take him to strip club if he let him. At least Puck would be relatively considerate and take him to a male strip club (and Finn and Sam and Mike would run away in terror), but Kurt wasn't taking any chances.

They reached the third floor and Kurt stopped, seeing the figure sitting on the floor of the breezeway next to his door.

"Finn?" Kurt asked incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

The gargantuan boy looked up, blinking when Kurt separated himself from Blaine and approached him, towering over him for once instead of the other way around.

"Oh, I uh, had a message for you."

"Why didn't you call or text me?"

"I was already out and didn't have my phone."

Kurt ignored the urge to ask why Finn was out so late because it would open up the question of what he was doing out so late, and Kurt kind of didn't feel like telling his stepbrother that he'd spent his evening dancing on a table in a bar with a bunch of guys. Finn would swear to secrecy but inevitably, his father would find out somehow and he'd never hear the end of it.

"What is it that you needed to tell me, then?"

"Oh, Dr. James pulled up your schematics from your checkup last month and says that there's some sort of fritz in one of the circuits of your shoulder, and there's a new antivirus update he wants you to get. He wants you to come in soon and fix….it…." Finn trailed off as all of the color drained out of Kurt's face and the realization dawned on him that his brother hadn't been alone. "Shit. Kurt—"

Kurt wasn't looking at him though.

He'd turned around to stare at Blaine, who was staring back at him in some combination of shock, confusion, and something that Kurt knew intimately as fear.

"What in the hell?" he asked, voice strangely hollow, gazing at Kurt as if he'd never seen him before, "What's he talking about, Kurt? Schematics? Circuits in your shoulder? Your antivirus?"

Kurt began to tremble, his heart thudding dully in his head, something cold starting to seep in from his stomach and spreading through the rest of him.

"Blaine, dude…" Finn began, only to trail off when Kurt grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet.

"Finn, go. Please go."

"I'm sor—"

"We can talk later. Please just go. Now. Please. Go."

Finn as good as ran, brushing past Blaine and streaking towards his car as if the bats of hell were after him. Neither of the other two boys had moved. Kurt's hands were clenching in the hem of his shirt and Blaine was whiter than anything, feeling as if his world had just gotten turned upside down.

This was everything that Kurt had been terrified of.

He could literally feel the entire everything he had with Blaine slipping away from him. Their friendship, their camaraderie, any hope he'd ever harbored of their relationship becoming anything more than friendship. All of it, slipping away like a rope slicked up with oil, right through his hands.

"What was he talking about, Kurt?" Blaine felt himself say the words but they sounded like he was underwater to him, muted and cold and numb with shock.

"Blaine, I…" Kurt began, voice cracking just the tiniest bit, "I…I was going to tell you. S-sometime. I swear."

"What. Was. He. Talking. About?" Blaine ground out, still numb.

Kurt was beginning to go red around the eyes and he wasn't blinking because if he blinked, he'd definitely cry. No crying. He couldn't cry. He could and would later, but not now.

"Blaine…I'm a…" Kurt stopped and inhaled a shaky breath, trying his best to gather himself up. "I'm a cyborg."

The world stopped. Kurt was a statue frozen where he stood and now it was Blaine's turn to start to shake.

"T-this whole time? You've been a-a—You've been a robot? With…w-with programs, and- and…oh my god."

"No!" Kurt cried, "I am not a robot!"

But Blaine had whirled and broken into a full-out run, taking the stairs three at a time and running anywhere. He didn't know where he was going. Running anywhere. Away. Away from everything, away from his revelations.

Away from Kurt.

The boy left in the breezeway bolted to the balcony and began to scream at the top of his lungs,

"I'm not a robot! I'm not a fucking robot! Blaine Anderson, do you hear me?" His voice began to break, "I'm a cyborg! I'm human! HUMAN! I'm not a robot…" He gripped the railing tight as if it was the only thing in the world keeping him standing, a truth that he didn't want to acknowledge. His voice became more of a sob, and he gasped out, breathing harsh, "I'm not a robot. I'm human. I'm not a robot. I'm human. I'm not… I'm not…"

And Kurt Hummel broke down and cried.

He didn't know how long it was until the haze of tears and sobs cleared, or how long it took to calm down.

Kurt straightened up and wiped his eyes, still feeling shaky.

He could go inside and forget about everything, pretend that he wasn't feeling like he'd been broken into a thousand pieces.

He could get into his car and drive home, or ask someone to pick him up.

Or…

Kurt stared in the direction that Blaine had gone.

Long fingers covered with soft pale skin, lined with muscles and tendons and cored with metal and wire clenched so hard they dug half-moons into his palms. His pain was human. His heart was still pounding. A human heart, a human brain, a human soul.

Kurt breathed. Human lungs. A human voice.

He was the embodiment of a father's love for his child, the proof of the dedication of an expansive team of scientists to someone they admired and respected, a personification of the devotion of a mother who had never given up on him.

Stonily, Kurt opened his door and set his bag inside, taking only his keys with him when he closed and relocked it.

Unflinchingly, he stared in the direction that Blaine had gone.

And there it was.

Kurt ran after him.

AN2: Whew. Holy crap, this might be the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. My apologies for the cliffhanger and if this was hard on anyone, but as they say, it's always darkest just before dawn. As always, please review if you have anything to say, good or bad. I love praise, but as a writer, I appreciate constructive criticism just as much. I am at your mercy. –bows-