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: Thank you so much for the response on the last chapter! It was overwhelmingly positive, and I'm so excited that it's been enjoyed by so many people.

This story isn't quite ready to wrap up, but probably won't hit thirteen chapters. I hope that you all stay with me right up to the end!

Chapter Nine: Kid Gloves

It had been three days since Blaine had seen Kurt. Three days to think, three days to worry, three days to…well, obsess.

Since then, the curly-haired boy had been antsy and even less focused on work than usual. Normally, they at least passed one another in the breezeway on a normal day but the last three days, even that hadn't happened. Kurt's door hadn't opened and Blaine didn't want to admit to the fact that now he was beginning to get legitimately worried, though he really had no reason to be.

He was sitting on the floor in his living room, guitar in his arms and a spiral notebook on the coffee table, Fortissimo open on his laptop. The beginnings of lyrics were scrawled out in the notebook, though at this point they weren't so much lyrics as they were crossed out words.

"Write what you know, Blaine. Write what you know," he muttered to himself, "What do you know?"

He thought for a bit, flopping onto his back and absently scratching at the scruff on his chin.

Blaine Anderson realized that very moment that when it came down to it, he didn't know very much.

"I know about being bored and annoyed and wishing that my parents would quit trying to hook me up with girls," he began to list off, "I know a lot about dogs, and music, and pop culture. I know about…" He froze suddenly, a funny little tingle running up his spine, "Kurt. I know about Kurt." If he didn't get killed on the spot for this, he might actually have a viable option there. "What do I know about Kurt? He's awesome, he's funny, he's attractive, he's smart but kind of dumb sometimes. He's dramatic and sensitive and…"

I'm human, Blaine.

"He's human. …that's it. Shit, I might actually have something here—"

Blaine scrambled for his notebook but stilled when he heard voices filter in from the outside through the thin walls.

"I still think you ought to have stayed home for a few more days."

"Uncle James, if I stayed in there for any longer, I'd be crazier than I am now. I love Finn but the boy does not know how to shut up. I'll take my meds, make sure I eat, make sure I scan, blah blah blah."

The snark was unmistakable and without thinking twice about it, Blaine had found himself at the front door, flinging it open. Kurt was accompanied by a tall man in a dark suit with cropped red hair and green eyes that probably would have looked better if he hadn't been frowning at Kurt who frowned right back at him. The younger boy looked…awful.

His eyes were ringed with dark circles and his hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days and Blaine didn't think he even owned a pair of pajama pants, but there they were and he was wearing a t-shirt. He looked exhausted and frustrated and…cranky.

Kurt jumped when the door opened and stared Blaine in the face, before suddenly glancing down at himself. Color rose in his cheeks and Blaine could hear him mutter a horrified,

"Oh my god," before he broke away from the man next to him, fleeing into his apartment.

"Uh, hi there," Blaine greeted awkwardly. "I'm Blaine, Kurt's, uh, friend-neighbor-thing. Is he okay?"

The man reached out and shook his hand.

"Dr. Cameron James. He's fine, young man. Just a little under the weather."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. He'd heard that name before, and Kurt had called him 'uncle'.

"Are you from Carbon?" he asked conversationally, receiving a nod in reply, "Also, I know. About…" Blaine pointed towards Kurt's door and made a hand gesture that he hoped would be understood for what it was, namely I know he's a cyborg. "Is he really okay?"He wasn't expecting James' face to break into a relieved smile, not at all.

"Oh goodness, he told you?" the professional tone went a touch friendlier, and Blaine had to wonder regardless if at some point in his life this man had been a bodyguard, "He had to go get fixed up; there was a short in his shoulder that was worse off than I thought, so the fix was significantly more painful than we were expecting. And the antivirus update always gives him the mother of all headaches; he's been fighting with it for the last three days. He finally insisted on coming home today, but I think he ought to have stayed where someone could look after him. If I walk in there, he will throw something at me. …Again."

"Uh, I can see if he can stand me?" Blaine offered suddenly, tilting his head. "Hopefully he'll be surprised enough that he won't clobber me."

"That's actually not a terrible idea," the redhead considered, scratching his chin, "He doesn't need a doctor, just someone to keep him from doing too much too fast."

"Which means…?"

"No work or paid jobs, make sure he eats and takes the meds he was given, and make sure he completes his scan. He'll definitely whine about that one, it makes the headache worse. And just…generally keep him from hurting himself. If you can cheer him up, that's a bonus."

Blaine had been a Warbler for four years. He knew how to keep people from hurting themselves.

"So a babysitter, basically."

A tiny smile flirted over Blaine's face at the thought, though it was wiped off at the following thought of what would happen if Kurt found out that he thought of it as babysitting.

"Essentially," Dr. James replied, taking out a business card and handing it to Blaine. "The kid's got my number, but if anything happens and you can't get through his contacts, here you go." Blaine took the card and looked it over, unsurprised that the man carried his own contact cards but a tad taken aback by the fact that it was a normal paper card instead of the high tech holo-card that most high ranking employees carried. "Good luck." He saluted and began to make his way down the stairs; Blaine gulped.

That man seemed way too relieved and excited to pass his duty off and Blaine wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.

No escaping it now, though, and he pushed Kurt's door open.

Kurt himself had curled up on his couch and flung a comforter over his head so that he was no more than a human-sized lump underneath an ocean of fluffy blue and yellow.

"Uncle James, I said you can go home. Please leave me alone, I'm begging you."

"Uh, sorry, not your doctor uncle," Blaine said sheepishly and Kurt sat bolt upright, popping his head out of his cocoon and gaping unflatteringly, only to grab his head and flinch, ducking back into the dark.

"Oh god, bad idea. Bad idea, very bad idea," he snarled to himself. Blaine waited until he'd finished yelling at himself before walking over draping himself over the back of the couch to peer down at his friend. Blue eyes peeked right back at him out of the blanket cave. "Hi."

"Hi," Blaine replied, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He hated seeing Kurt so miserable, but right now he was adorable and Blaine really just wanted to reach out and pet him or something. "My job now, I think." Kurt scowled, knowing exactly what he meant by that statement.

"Yay," he grumbled unenthusiastically.

"I'm supposed to feed you, but…" Blaine bit his lip again, "I know bad headaches can make you kind of sick. Can you keep anything down?"

"I can handle something simple," Kurt finally replied, quieter this time and just the tiniest bit les resentful, "I'm not hungry, but I do need it. Ugh." He made a face. "If you could nuke some of the tomato soup in the fridge, that would be awesome. And maybe some crackers or something."

"Your wish is my command," Blaine bowed with a flourish, coaxing a tiny smile out of the boy on the couch.

By the time he'd returned, Kurt had reverted into full-on burrito caterpillar mode and when Blaine prodded him a bit to get him to take the food, he came face to face with what might have been the cutest thing he'd seen in his life. Kurt sat up reluctantly and glared at the bowl in his hands as if it had personally offended him, blanket still draped over his shoulders and the corners of his mouth downturned and oh god his hair was totally sticking up in the back.

"You laugh, you die," Kurt threatened and Blaine made a lip-zipping hand gesture, miming throwing away the key. He ate slowly and laboriously as if every bite was an effort and Blaine tried not to hover over him, finally settling for sitting down on the cushion on the end of the couch.

"How do you feel?" he asked, pointedly eyeing Kurt's shoulder.

"Awful," Kurt replied honestly, "I can handle either the shoulder or the head, but not both at once. I feel like I got run over by a truck, and then someone got the bright idea to see what a jackhammer would do to my head." He grimaced again and finally set his bowl aside. There was a bit left but Blaine wouldn't nag him about it. "I want to sleep for days."

Briefly, Blaine debated in his head whether he wanted to make the offer or not but eventually came to the conclusion of 'oh, what the hell'.

Smiling crookedly, he patted his lap and Kurt stared at him suspiciously, as if mentally questioning whether he was imagining things.

"I guarantee you, best lap in town," the older boy boasted, "Even Wes likes to sleep in my lap."

"Wes is questionable in about every way imaginable," Kurt muttered, glancing shiftily from Blaine's face to his lap then back to his face again. He could feel the red on his face, and Kurt wished that this…whatever it was that he had for Blaine didn't make him so prone to doing embarrassing things and thinking embarrassing thoughts. The curly-haired boy patted his lap again invitingly, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, stop that. Fine," As if waiting for an expected rejection to come even this late, Kurt tentatively shifted further down the couch and lowered to a horizontal position, dropping his head into Blaine's lap.

It was easy enough to tell that he was as tense as anything and Blaine gently began to stroke his head, running light circles over his temple, carding his fingers through his hair and using Grandmother Anderson's technique of applying just the perfect amount of nail to his scalp. His hair was as soft as it looked, loose and unstyled as it was.

"Oh my god, I will give you anything I own if you do that forever," Kurt muttered, pulling his blanket back up and closing his eyes, involuntarily relaxing.

"What an offer," Blaine teased, scratching gently and omitting the fact that having Kurt in his lap was reward enough. "What if I wanted that rocking navy blue coat of yours? With the lapels and leather trim."

"Nooooo, anything but that," Kurt whined into his thigh, voice slightly muffled in his comforter, "That is Burberry and vintage and you can't have it. It wouldn't fit you anyway."

"Guess I just have to be satisfied with seeing you wear it, then," Blaine replied lightly, hoping that his amusement didn't come out too obviously in his voice. Looking down at Kurt, it was weirder than anything to think about the fact that instead of bones, he had an entire skeleton of metal and nanotechnology for all that he looked now. If he'd had any reservations of Kurt's humanity before this, they probably would have been smashed into tiny pieces by seeing him now, grouchy and ouchie like this.

Blaine continued to pet his hair right up to the moment that those pain-hazed blue eyes closed and stayed that way and Kurt's breathing slowed and evened out.

No, this opportunity was definitely enough of a reward in itself.

The first thing Kurt noticed when he woke up was that the pain had diminished. His shoulder still ached like no one's business and the pounding in his head was still distracting but had lessened. The second thing he noticed was that his television was turned on but the volume lowered to just audible and that all of the lights had been dimmed. The third thing he noticed was the hand that rested on his head, occasionally running through his hair.

"Hi," he said, brain still slightly hazy from his impromptu nap.

"Hi," Blaine replied, "How're you feeling?"

"Little better. Still feel like I got run over by a truck, but less jackhammer."

"Well, that's a plus. Feel up to doing your virus scan?"

Kurt glared at him.

"Don't look at me like that!" Blaine protested, "Your doctor…uncle, dude, whoever he is was pretty insistent on it."

"Ooooh, better hope he never hears you call him dude, he'll throw you out the window ass over honeypot. Finn did that once and Uncle James put him in a sleeper hold."

Kurt smiled dryly at the fond memory.

"Seriously, though," Blaine had sobered and was looking down at Kurt with a look of concern, "You really ought to do it if you're supposed to-"

"Fine," Kurt growled, sitting up and wrapping his comforter tighter around him, "Just…" he hesitated, "Don't watch me do it. It's apparently really weird, and even Mercedes freaked out when she saw and she's been my best friend for ages." Kurt's mind flashed back to three nights ago, and his stomach clenched when he remembered the look of shock and horror on his friend's face.

"I'd…I'd like to see, anyway," Blaine replied after a long pause, as if trying to choose his words as they came out, "I won't freak out."

Kurt smiled sadly at him, deciding against telling Blaine that Mercedes had said the same thing.

"Well, I can't stop you, I'm going nowhere fast like this. If I got up now, I'd probably hurl all over the carpet." The chestnut-haired boy settled himself against the back of the couch. "Just…please be quiet, if you can." The moment he slipped into the scan was visibly clear; his bright eyes hazed and his entire face went slack and blank. The tiniest, quietest sound could be heard that didn't come from his mouth, like a cross between the call of a cricket and a bell.

Blaine couldn't help it; he stared in fascination.

It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, to watch emotional, high-energy Kurt slide into a state of just…nothing. Experimentally, he waved a hand in front of the taller boy's face. No reaction in the slightest.

He watched, and he watched, and he watched until coherency began to show in Kurt's face and the boy hummed softly, stretching his arms over his head before rubbing at his temples. He shot Blaine an apprehensive look, clearly expecting a reaction of disgust or incredulity.

He wasn't expecting to see the rapt enthrallment on Blaine's face, all interest and focus and he squirmed a little, unused to the scrutiny.

"Are you aware when you scan?" he asked, and Kurt shrugged slightly.

"Kind of. I can tell what's going on but only as an afterthought sort of thing. Like I could tell when you waved your hand in front of me, but when I'm that deep in the program, most external stimulus gets put on the backburner. I'm more aware if I don't go deep, but the scanner requires my full attention to be thorough."

"Did…did you know that there's a noise?"

Blaine took it as a no when Kurt just cocked his head to the side.

"A noise?" he asked deliberately.

"Yeah. It's really quiet, and if I'd been loud or talking, I wouldn't have been able to hear it at all. It kinda sounds like…I dunno, like if a cricket was playing a handbell, only just one long note." Blaine thought that his description probably sounded like a kindergartener's art project, but Kurt merely looked considering, hand absently rubbing his head still.

"Huh," he said finally, bemusement all over his face. "I never knew. Dad never mentioned anything about it, and 'Cedes was probably too focused on not knowing whether I was dying to notice it." A faint smile quirked at his lips and Blaine couldn't help but return it. "You learn something every day." Suddenly, he frowned. "Was it annoying?"

Blaine shook his head.

"No," he replied, "It was actually…actually quite pretty." Kurt's face softened and Blaine reached out a hand to brush a bit of his bangs out of his face. "You want to lay down again? Uncle Doctor said that scanning made everything worse. Magic lap is still open for business."

"He so deserves to be called that," Kurt muttered, before meeting Blaine's eyes. "He certainly told you enough, didn't he? He's not wrong, but I'd feel bad, since I already slept on you for like, two hours. You probably want to go home and try and write something or… something. Since it's Saturday and totally your day off." Blaine shrugged.

"There's nothing I'd do at home that I couldn't do here if I wanted. Besides, if I went home, I'd just worry." He squirmed a little at the admission but the pleased surprise on the other boy's face was so worth it.

"I can take care of myself," Kurt grumbled.

"Well, yeah, but it's nice to not have to, isn't it?" Blaine countered. "Your job right now is to chill out and try to feel better." Kurt's response was to shrug and lay down again, burying his face in the fabric at Blaine's thigh. Blaine grinned and began to hum.

"That had better not be the intro to All My Friends Are Dicks," Kurt grumbled, voice muffled again, "If you're gonna sing, sing something good."

"Ouch, someone's not pulling punches today," Blaine exclaimed, pretending to be hurt, and the other boy glared at him with one eye open.

"Sing something new. Improv for me."

"Somehow, I think that's a terrible idea."

"Come on, do what the sick boy says."

"Now you're just taking advantage."

"Shamelessly," Kurt opened his other eye and smiled sweetly. "Come on, please?"

Blaine huffed but smiled back nevertheless, hand already picking up the now familiar motion of stroking Kurt's hair.

"Fine, fine," he thought, and absently began to tap out a beat with his free hand. "I feel like a loser," he began to sing, melody rough and stuttered, "I feel like I'm lost. I feel like I'm not sure if I feel anything at all." Kurt was watching him intently and Blaine felt unbelievably self-conscious. "Um…I don't know what else—"

"Keep going. Just roll with it," Kurt insisted.

"But believe me, I'm not helpless," the words came hesitant and slow, "I just need someone to love. So… so my situation's rough… that just makes me a dumb human," he broke off, "Like…you."

Kurt felt like he'd been clobbered in the head with a baseball bat and it wasn't because of his headache. When he'd asked Blaine to improvise for him, he'd been expecting something funny and silly, not something…well, he hadn't been expecting that. Not something that meant something, not something that was clearly meant for him.

"Blaine, did you…did you really just make that up?" he asked, and the shorter boy ran a hand through his dark curls. "Right now, right off the top of your head?"

"I…I guess I did." Blaine sounded as if he couldn't believe himself.

Kurt's smile widened until he was practically beaming, feeling a little ridiculous but shoving it under a thick sheet of pure elation, light and fluffy and sunny as a cloud.

"I'm so proud of you," he practically whispered, brushing his blanket aside to raise a hand and pat Blaine on the cheek. "Good job."

AN2: So yeah, I spent a while fighting with myself on whether to actually bring this song into play because I dislike the idea of having too many Darren-isms in a fanfic, but eventually I just couldn't help myself. Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you feel the desire.