Burns Brighter: Frozen (1/4)
Burns Brighter: Frozen (1/4)
Authors: gameboycolor (drblaine) and ourlivesareweird.
Spoilers: All of Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, and Glee to be safe.
Warnings: Supernatural elements within the realm of the Avatar universe, canon character deaths.
Rating: R overall
Length: ~3700
Summary: As Avatar Aang approaches the end of his time, Kurt and Blaine face new responsibilities and adapt to the changing societal atmosphere in Republic City. Set seven years after Burns Brighter.
A/N: Hello again! For those of you not familiar with the series don't forget to check out the primer. We are so glad to have your back for the next part of Kurt and Blaine's journey. Hope you enjoy. :)
AO3 | Reblog on Tumblr
Night stretches overhead like a swath of velvet, blanketing the sky in deep blue with a faint glow cast by the moon hanging heavily overhead. Since moving to the city, white noise has become a regular fixture through the night, but still Kurt does his best to bury himself away from the sound, chasing after the quiet he knew back home in the South Pole by nestling himself under blankets and against the folds of Blaine’s robes. There, he’s able to better focus on the regular cadence of Blaine’s breathing, soft and tickling through strands of his hair, their tangled limbs anchoring him to sleep.
But for some nights, like this one, it isn’t enough. A loud knock sounds at the door, three times before Kurt chooses to acknowledge it with a groan, burying his face in his pillow. Kurt wants nothing more than to curl up against Blaine’s warmth until sleep finds him again, but he knows he can’t; he’s the only healer on this side of town, and that means calls in the middle of the night, sometimes even at his own home.
Reluctantly, he pulls back the covers. Neither Zhuzi nor Thomas stir from their places on opposite sides of the bed, but Blaine opens one bleary eye.
“Go back to sleep,” Kurt instructs quietly, dropping a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll call for you if I need anything.”
It didn’t take long for Blaine to catch on when Kurt started a side practice for patients in their house. He’s always quick to meet Kurt with a basin of water and knows how to distract and engage the patient in conversation. In the more serious cases, he’s been Kurt’s best asset.
As Kurt quickly slips into his working robes, the door sounds again with knocking, louder and clipped. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Kurt calls out as he rushes to the entrance.
He gets all kinds of people at this hour. Teenagers hurt in minor bending scuffles, too scared to seek proper treatment at a clinic. Workers getting off the late shift, afraid their bosses won’t cover treatment costs, even though their injuries were acquired on the job.
Kurt has found his calling treating the needier population of Republic City.
Which is why he’s shocked to find Lin Bei Fong standing at his door.
“Hey, stranger.”
-
A surge of guilt passes over Kurt as he stands at the door, lips parted in surprise at the sight of Lin. They haven’t seen one another for a while, not since she and Tenzin parted ways a few months ago. Kurt isn’t the type of person who likes to take sides in matters that don’t directly concern him, but that hasn’t stopped him from keeping his space from Lin, never knowing where she stands on their friendship. He was friends with Tenzin first, friends since they were only children, both running around the frozen plains of the South Pole - the kind of childhood friendship that wasn’t easy to break. Worried that his continued closeness with Tenzin would cause Lin to bear a grudge, Kurt simply waited for her to come to him.
Even though he knew that her pride was very likely to get in the way.
It’s that same pride which Kurt suspects has brought Lin to his front step. Turning to the medics at the clinic would have word spreading to Katara, and in turn, to Tenzin himself.
“What happened?” Kurt asks, cheeks flushed as he steps aside to let Lin in and tries his best not to stammer over his words. Some people breeze back into one another’s lives easily, but Kurt never expected for Lin to be one of them. “Are you in some sort of trouble?” His voice darkens at the second question, gaze closely fixated on her expression. It’s a question he asks everyone who comes through his door. The last thing Kurt wants is to expose his family to any danger.
“Triple Threats,” Lin says in a low voice, lowering her hood as she steps ahead of Kurt, quick to make her way to the healing room. He spots now what the shadows hid earlier, two long gashes down the side of Lin’s face, blood trailing down the side of her neck and skin growing tight around the edges of the wound.
“Lin,” Kurt says sadly, rushing to fill a basin with water and carrying it over to the bench Lin seats herself on. “You should know your mother’s stance on them better than anyone. They’re thugs. We’re supposed to let the authorities deal with them.”
“Well, the authorities aren’t doing shit while crime’s only growing worse by the day,” she grits out, eyes closing tightly after Kurt dips his hands into the water, a glow emanating from his skin as he directs the water up to meet her injury, cool to the touch. Although she keeps still, Kurt hears a slight sigh of relief when he starts to work on the worst of the cuts on her face. No doubt they’re painful, and as he runs water along the serrated edges of her wound, Kurt can tell that it’s the work of jagged ice. A skilled waterbender.
It must hurt.
While he feels sympathy and understands Lin’s frustration, Kurt wishes she hadn’t thrown herself in the middle of things while the atmosphere of the city has been so tense.
Then again, she wouldn’t be Lin if she hadn’t.
“Tenzin can’t know about this, of course,” Lin mutters, so softly that Kurt can tell she meant to slip the subject by without notice.
His face falls.
“What?” Lin asks, louder and defensive, eyes widening in alarm. “You haven’t sent him word while I wasn’t looking, have you?”
“Of course not,” Kurt whispers in a rush, soft and placating. “It’s just...”
“What, Kurt? Out with it!”
“It’s going to scar.” Even with water blurring her cuts from view, Kurt can tell. He’s dealt with enough wounds to know. “I’ll do my best to make sure the scarring is minimal, but there’s only so much I can do.”
Time apart has made it harder to read Lin’s expression; there’s conflict there, but Kurt can’t quite put his finger on it. Lin’s never been especially vain. Maybe it isn’t her own opinion that she worries about now. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”
“I am,” Kurt says, bristling. “But even Chief Katara wouldn’t be able to prevent you from having a scar. He’s going to find out sooner or later, Lin.”
“That’s fine. Maybe now he’ll know that I don’t need him anymore.”
He lets out a soft sigh, fighting the temptation to roll his eyes. Kurt hasn’t spoken to Lin much since the split, but now it’s clear she’s on the same page as Tenzin. Juggling a mix of training, public service, and even social calls, Tenzin has been desperately trying to prove that he’s doing fine without Lin.
It’s almost funny how stubborn they both are. And even though Kurt knows he shouldn’t be saying anything to jeopardize the peace they’ve both tentatively found, he can’t help meddling now and again. “Avatar Aang isn’t doing well,” he murmurs, as much for his own sake as Tenzin’s.
“I’ve heard.” Her reply is short and terse.
“Tenzin... he’s not dealing with it well,” he continues, glancing up imploringly. Instead of spending time with his family, Tenzin’s been throwing himself into Council business. To Kurt, who’s already risked losing his father once, it feels like a waste, but every time he brings the topic up, Tenzin finds an excuse to slip away and back in the office.
The only indication he has that Lin’s heard him at all is in the slight tensing of her jaw and the way her eyes almost seem to change color, muted rather than carrying their usual sharpness. “Kurt, if he wanted to see me, he would ask for me.”
Kurt thinks both of them know that Tenzin isn’t the type to ask favors. But with Lin still showing resistance, it’s clear that this isn’t Kurt’s place. “Alright,” he nods, letting everything fall into silence as he continues to do the last of his work on Lin’s face, the skin already shiny and smooth.
“Kurt?”
Half expecting a lecture for prying into her personal life, or for sharing Tenzin’s personal business without his consent, Kurt glances up; finding a weary look on Lin’s face says otherwise.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He can’t be sure what she’s thanking him for, but he knows better than to ask.
***
The next generation of Dragonhawks are still trying to come together as a team, but Blaine can already see the potential there. As it turns out, Puck has a knack for sensing team chemistry and gathering up and coming athletes. He sees raw talent in people, and he knows just how to shape it. Blaine enjoys visiting them from time to time, often for the same reason that he turned to probending in the first place - it’s a nice reprieve from the chaos and tension in the city, and far easier of a sight to watch than the healing of injuries.
“Think they’re going to take it all the way to finals this year?” Blaine asks, smiling as he leans forward, watching the trio of kids parrying in the center of the gym.
“We’re hoping they do, but who knows these days,” grouses Puck, crinkling the bag of fire flakes in his hand and popping a few into his mouth. “All of these refs getting paid off, it feels like it doesn’t even matter how hard people play anymore.”
“Puck, it’s been barely a decade since we were on the circuit. You make it sound like it’s been forever.”
“Sometimes, it feels that way.”
He’s right. Probending has evolved and expanded in a way no one saw coming. With industry booming in the United Republic and the increasing population needing a way to set aside their worries, professional athletes enjoy a great amount of celebrity than nearly anyone else in the nation. Sometimes, they’re more easily recognized than Councilmembers themselves, and everything else comes with it - the sponsorships have gotten more lucrative, and the referees fall under a greater amount of pressure than ever to swing rounds. There are constant whispers about officials being paid off, but no one can prove it.
It’s not like they didn’t break a few rules in their day, though. The under the table sponsorship with the Mottas could have gotten them kicked out of the league if word had gotten out.
“Say,” Puck remarks, tossing his empty bag aside and crossing his arms. “When are you going to come work for me? You bored of playing Hummel’s nurse yet?”
“I don’t know, Puck.” There’s an ache that settles in Blaine’s chest at the thought; he misses probending, he really does, but he can tell he wouldn’t feel satisfied taking a job with the Dragonhawks. These days, it feels like he’s a teenager again; even without being forced in the direction of politics, finding a passion has always been Blaine’s underlying problem. He’s not any closer to finding his way, even if he knows he has to find it on his own. “I don’t think it’s for me.”
“You could at least show Ryder a thing or two. Kid keeps throwing lightning around, no matter how many times I talk to him about it.”
Blaine looks down at where Ryder, Jacob, and Marley are running drills in the gym’s practice arena. “Give him time, he’ll figure it out.”
“When?”
“When the ref slaps him with a penalty and makes him feel like an idiot.”
Puck laughs and claps Blaine on the back. “I’ve missed having you around here. At least think about joining us, yeah? There are worse things you could end up doing.”
“I’ll think about it.”
-
Even though Blaine hears of job opportunities regularly, he’s yet to find a job he likes as much as acting as an advisor to Wes. True to his departure from politics, Blaine is careful never to voice his opinions in public, fearing that his word might be leveraged by the wrong people or twisted away from his original intent, but he never imagined that working with Wes’ staff would still leave him so involved. Most of his afternoons are spent in the office, especially now that everything in Republic City seems to be in a state of flux. Kurt doesn’t speak too much about it, but Blaine’s noticed the house calls becoming more frequent, the voices that filter through their house often hushed.
It seems like secrets are one thing Blaine may never be able to avoid.
“Hello, Master Anderson!”
It’s been three weeks since Wes’ staff expanded to include Rachel Berry, newly hired to take messages and schedule appointments. A new arrival to the city from the Fire Nation, there are certain habits of Rachel’s that feel like a throwback to Blaine’s childhood, for better or worse, but the broad smile that she wears is completely her own.
Offering a small grin in reply, Blaine nods and waves. “You know, Rachel, you could just call me Blaine.”
Her smile immediately fades, expression molding into one of slight consternation. “Oh, I don’t think that would be appropriate, Master Anderson. While I do think that you are one of the more pleasant members of Councilman Sung’s cabinet, the last thing that I would want is for my friendliness to be misconstrued as an attempt to work my way up illegitimately in politics,” she explains, lips pursed. “I would also recommend that you address me as Lady Berry, but I recognize that your station and long-term experience with the upper echelons of society leave you with more freedom to do as you please without fear of repercussion.”
Pausing with a pressed smile, Blaine closes his eyes in amusement. In addition to her regular duties, Rachel takes it upon herself to offer input on legislation and the functioning of society, from ancient traditions to studying new forms of government. Her opinion, whether Wes asks for it or not, is always made clear.
“Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Lady Berry,” concedes Blaine, bowing his head charitably before slipping by and heading for Wes’ office, careful to shut the door firmly behind him.
Quickly glancing up in alarm, Wes’ expression relaxes visibly upon seeing Blaine. “I have to let her go,” Wes groans, quickly dropping his head into his hands, fingers fisting lightly in his hair. “I have to. Please say you’ll fill in until I can find a suitable replacement.”
Sighing between his teeth, Blaine bites back an immediate refusal out of respect for Wes. While he’s had a lot of time on his hands ever since retiring from the probending circuit, Blaine’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t be satisfied working under Wes. Being a personal assistant to a Councilman is a great job, one that often acts as a springboard within national politics; it’s perfect for an ambitious young adult like Rachel, someone who obviously wants to be involved.
The issue is, Blaine doesn’t want to dig his own roots even further. Not when politics definitely isn’t what he wants to be involved with for the rest of his life.
“Is she really that bad?” Blaine asks in a low voice, mindful of the fact that Rachel is on the other side of the wall.
“The worst,” Wes says, pressing his fingers to his temples. “She just... won’t keep a thing to herself.”
Blaine shrugs, holding a hand out in thought. “It’s not the worst quality for a person to have. She’s young, she’s a nonbender. She might be able to offer you insight.”
“Or you could fill in until I can find someone who doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out.”
Even though he knows that Wes has the best of intentions, Blaine’s stomach churns from the directions he’s being pulled in - between Puck with the Dragonhawks and Wes with his political office, Blaine wonders if he’ll ever be fully past the point in his life where people make decisions for him. Or try to.
“How about I talk to her for you?” Blaine suggests, his tone gentle. “Maybe we can find a way for you two to work together.”
Wes doesn’t seem pleased with the response, but he doesn’t immediately turn it down. “Fine. But make it clear she’s walking on thin ice. I don’t care who her fathers are, she is still completely replaceable.”
***
Airbender Island was once the place Kurt went to get away from the sounds of the city. It was somewhere he could unwind, a place that encouraged for one to detach from worldly concerns.
His visits to the island lately have been anything but relaxing.
Avatar Aang has been hidden from public view for the past few years. Any messages to the people of Republic City and the nations have been given through Tenzin. Kurt knows it’s to preserve the image of Aang in his prime, but sometimes he thinks the world could benefit from the reminder that Aang is only human.
Kurt nods as he passes the White Lotus members stationed outside of the bedroom. He pulls back the curtain just a fraction, his heart stuttering a little at the image of Katara and Aang together.
Katara could easily care for her husband herself, but she told Kurt that she doesn’t want to miss out on a single second of the remainder of Aang’s life. He understands all too well. Healing takes a focus that doesn’t leave much room for personal feelings, or quiet moments like this one, both of them curled up on the bed with their fingers laced.
“I’ve always liked your hands,” muses Aang, tracing the back of Katara’s hand with his thumb. Even though his voice sounds softer now, there’s a light quality in Aang’s words, amused and matching the shine of his eyes.
“These old things,” Katara smiles in reply, shaking her head as she clasps her free hand on top of their laced ones, rubbing gently against skin. “That didn’t stop you from nearly scarring me the first time you learned how to firebend.”
“Not even old age will let that memory fade,” he murmurs, raising Katara’s hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. “But hey, don’t I also get to take credit for helping you realize your potential as a healer?”
With a noncommittal hum, Katara presses her nose against Aang’s temple, and her eyes fall to a gradual close. It isn’t the first time that Kurt’s happened across a moment like this. As far back as he can remember, Katara’s been a part of his life, a second mother who was present when the details of the first started to fade with time. Even though Avatar Aang’s duties kept him away from the South Pole most of the time, Kurt recalls his visits well, always full of warmth and laughter as they lit up Katara’s expression with an unparalleled ease.
The only difference now is the sense of urgency. A lack of time.
Kurt takes advantage of the silence to announce his presence. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine, Kurt. We’ve been expecting you,” Katara replies with a smile, while Aang raises his free hand to usher Kurt inside.
The healing basin and pitcher of water, the typical setup for Kurt’s visits, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a tray of tea cups and a kettle.
Katara, seeming to follow Kurt’s gaze, quickly explains the change of scenery. “Now I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m afraid I wasn’t honest about this being a professional call. It’s more of a personal one.”
“Oh?” Kurt can’t think of what personal business he would have with Aang and Katara. He immediately assumes the worst. Are they firing him? Had his moonlighting finally caught up to him? He hadn’t thought that the quality of his work was suffering, but he could be wrong, and if there’s anyone who can’t afford a lesser quality of care, it’s the Avatar.
“Relax, Kurt,” Katara instructs gently. “You aren’t in any trouble. We just wanted to discuss the direction we’re taking with Aang’s care.”
“I can speak for myself, you know,” Aang cuts in, his tone teasing. He has always been a lighthearted man, even in tougher situations. Immediately, Katara falls quiet, and Kurt spots a slight tightening at either corner of her mouth. Sensing his misstep, Aang carefully wraps an arm around her shoulders. Kurt doesn’t miss the fact that Aang’s hold isn’t as tight as it used to be.
His chest tightens.
“Kurt, out of all the people who have looked after me lately, you might be the one who’s worked the hardest. And you know that I consider you to be part of the family,” Aang continues. When Kurt tenses, he reaches out, palm facing up, silently asking for Kurt’s hand. Quietly, Kurt steps closer to the bed, sitting directly beside Aang. “We’ve decided to discontinue treatment. I would still appreciate your services, of course, but nothing extraordinary from here on out.”
The look on Katara’s face seems to say she isn’t in totally agreement with Aang’s words, but Kurt feels it isn’t his place to point that out.
Still, what they’re asking for is big. He feels he deserves at least some explanation. Even as his hand rests in both of Aang’s, he can’t tell whose are shaking.
“Why now? Why me?”
“Because you’re the person we feel we can trust this with.”
Aang had told him that he thought of him as family.
“And as for why now,” Aang continues, “We had been waiting to get everything in order - my affairs and those of the nations. It seems that time has come.”
Kurt has known several kinds of fear in his life. The fear of almost losing his father, the fear of leaving the South Pole, and even the fear of almost losing Blaine. This is a different sort of fear, though. One of letting people down.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.”
A little fear has never stopped him before.
Authors: gameboycolor (drblaine) and ourlivesareweird.
Spoilers: All of Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, and Glee to be safe.
Warnings: Supernatural elements within the realm of the Avatar universe, canon character deaths.
Rating: R overall
Length: ~3700
Summary: As Avatar Aang approaches the end of his time, Kurt and Blaine face new responsibilities and adapt to the changing societal atmosphere in Republic City. Set seven years after Burns Brighter.
A/N: Hello again! For those of you not familiar with the series don't forget to check out the primer. We are so glad to have your back for the next part of Kurt and Blaine's journey. Hope you enjoy. :)
AO3 | Reblog on Tumblr
Night stretches overhead like a swath of velvet, blanketing the sky in deep blue with a faint glow cast by the moon hanging heavily overhead. Since moving to the city, white noise has become a regular fixture through the night, but still Kurt does his best to bury himself away from the sound, chasing after the quiet he knew back home in the South Pole by nestling himself under blankets and against the folds of Blaine’s robes. There, he’s able to better focus on the regular cadence of Blaine’s breathing, soft and tickling through strands of his hair, their tangled limbs anchoring him to sleep.
But for some nights, like this one, it isn’t enough. A loud knock sounds at the door, three times before Kurt chooses to acknowledge it with a groan, burying his face in his pillow. Kurt wants nothing more than to curl up against Blaine’s warmth until sleep finds him again, but he knows he can’t; he’s the only healer on this side of town, and that means calls in the middle of the night, sometimes even at his own home.
Reluctantly, he pulls back the covers. Neither Zhuzi nor Thomas stir from their places on opposite sides of the bed, but Blaine opens one bleary eye.
“Go back to sleep,” Kurt instructs quietly, dropping a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll call for you if I need anything.”
It didn’t take long for Blaine to catch on when Kurt started a side practice for patients in their house. He’s always quick to meet Kurt with a basin of water and knows how to distract and engage the patient in conversation. In the more serious cases, he’s been Kurt’s best asset.
As Kurt quickly slips into his working robes, the door sounds again with knocking, louder and clipped. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Kurt calls out as he rushes to the entrance.
He gets all kinds of people at this hour. Teenagers hurt in minor bending scuffles, too scared to seek proper treatment at a clinic. Workers getting off the late shift, afraid their bosses won’t cover treatment costs, even though their injuries were acquired on the job.
Kurt has found his calling treating the needier population of Republic City.
Which is why he’s shocked to find Lin Bei Fong standing at his door.
“Hey, stranger.”
-
A surge of guilt passes over Kurt as he stands at the door, lips parted in surprise at the sight of Lin. They haven’t seen one another for a while, not since she and Tenzin parted ways a few months ago. Kurt isn’t the type of person who likes to take sides in matters that don’t directly concern him, but that hasn’t stopped him from keeping his space from Lin, never knowing where she stands on their friendship. He was friends with Tenzin first, friends since they were only children, both running around the frozen plains of the South Pole - the kind of childhood friendship that wasn’t easy to break. Worried that his continued closeness with Tenzin would cause Lin to bear a grudge, Kurt simply waited for her to come to him.
Even though he knew that her pride was very likely to get in the way.
It’s that same pride which Kurt suspects has brought Lin to his front step. Turning to the medics at the clinic would have word spreading to Katara, and in turn, to Tenzin himself.
“What happened?” Kurt asks, cheeks flushed as he steps aside to let Lin in and tries his best not to stammer over his words. Some people breeze back into one another’s lives easily, but Kurt never expected for Lin to be one of them. “Are you in some sort of trouble?” His voice darkens at the second question, gaze closely fixated on her expression. It’s a question he asks everyone who comes through his door. The last thing Kurt wants is to expose his family to any danger.
“Triple Threats,” Lin says in a low voice, lowering her hood as she steps ahead of Kurt, quick to make her way to the healing room. He spots now what the shadows hid earlier, two long gashes down the side of Lin’s face, blood trailing down the side of her neck and skin growing tight around the edges of the wound.
“Lin,” Kurt says sadly, rushing to fill a basin with water and carrying it over to the bench Lin seats herself on. “You should know your mother’s stance on them better than anyone. They’re thugs. We’re supposed to let the authorities deal with them.”
“Well, the authorities aren’t doing shit while crime’s only growing worse by the day,” she grits out, eyes closing tightly after Kurt dips his hands into the water, a glow emanating from his skin as he directs the water up to meet her injury, cool to the touch. Although she keeps still, Kurt hears a slight sigh of relief when he starts to work on the worst of the cuts on her face. No doubt they’re painful, and as he runs water along the serrated edges of her wound, Kurt can tell that it’s the work of jagged ice. A skilled waterbender.
It must hurt.
While he feels sympathy and understands Lin’s frustration, Kurt wishes she hadn’t thrown herself in the middle of things while the atmosphere of the city has been so tense.
Then again, she wouldn’t be Lin if she hadn’t.
“Tenzin can’t know about this, of course,” Lin mutters, so softly that Kurt can tell she meant to slip the subject by without notice.
His face falls.
“What?” Lin asks, louder and defensive, eyes widening in alarm. “You haven’t sent him word while I wasn’t looking, have you?”
“Of course not,” Kurt whispers in a rush, soft and placating. “It’s just...”
“What, Kurt? Out with it!”
“It’s going to scar.” Even with water blurring her cuts from view, Kurt can tell. He’s dealt with enough wounds to know. “I’ll do my best to make sure the scarring is minimal, but there’s only so much I can do.”
Time apart has made it harder to read Lin’s expression; there’s conflict there, but Kurt can’t quite put his finger on it. Lin’s never been especially vain. Maybe it isn’t her own opinion that she worries about now. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”
“I am,” Kurt says, bristling. “But even Chief Katara wouldn’t be able to prevent you from having a scar. He’s going to find out sooner or later, Lin.”
“That’s fine. Maybe now he’ll know that I don’t need him anymore.”
He lets out a soft sigh, fighting the temptation to roll his eyes. Kurt hasn’t spoken to Lin much since the split, but now it’s clear she’s on the same page as Tenzin. Juggling a mix of training, public service, and even social calls, Tenzin has been desperately trying to prove that he’s doing fine without Lin.
It’s almost funny how stubborn they both are. And even though Kurt knows he shouldn’t be saying anything to jeopardize the peace they’ve both tentatively found, he can’t help meddling now and again. “Avatar Aang isn’t doing well,” he murmurs, as much for his own sake as Tenzin’s.
“I’ve heard.” Her reply is short and terse.
“Tenzin... he’s not dealing with it well,” he continues, glancing up imploringly. Instead of spending time with his family, Tenzin’s been throwing himself into Council business. To Kurt, who’s already risked losing his father once, it feels like a waste, but every time he brings the topic up, Tenzin finds an excuse to slip away and back in the office.
The only indication he has that Lin’s heard him at all is in the slight tensing of her jaw and the way her eyes almost seem to change color, muted rather than carrying their usual sharpness. “Kurt, if he wanted to see me, he would ask for me.”
Kurt thinks both of them know that Tenzin isn’t the type to ask favors. But with Lin still showing resistance, it’s clear that this isn’t Kurt’s place. “Alright,” he nods, letting everything fall into silence as he continues to do the last of his work on Lin’s face, the skin already shiny and smooth.
“Kurt?”
Half expecting a lecture for prying into her personal life, or for sharing Tenzin’s personal business without his consent, Kurt glances up; finding a weary look on Lin’s face says otherwise.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He can’t be sure what she’s thanking him for, but he knows better than to ask.
***
The next generation of Dragonhawks are still trying to come together as a team, but Blaine can already see the potential there. As it turns out, Puck has a knack for sensing team chemistry and gathering up and coming athletes. He sees raw talent in people, and he knows just how to shape it. Blaine enjoys visiting them from time to time, often for the same reason that he turned to probending in the first place - it’s a nice reprieve from the chaos and tension in the city, and far easier of a sight to watch than the healing of injuries.
“Think they’re going to take it all the way to finals this year?” Blaine asks, smiling as he leans forward, watching the trio of kids parrying in the center of the gym.
“We’re hoping they do, but who knows these days,” grouses Puck, crinkling the bag of fire flakes in his hand and popping a few into his mouth. “All of these refs getting paid off, it feels like it doesn’t even matter how hard people play anymore.”
“Puck, it’s been barely a decade since we were on the circuit. You make it sound like it’s been forever.”
“Sometimes, it feels that way.”
He’s right. Probending has evolved and expanded in a way no one saw coming. With industry booming in the United Republic and the increasing population needing a way to set aside their worries, professional athletes enjoy a great amount of celebrity than nearly anyone else in the nation. Sometimes, they’re more easily recognized than Councilmembers themselves, and everything else comes with it - the sponsorships have gotten more lucrative, and the referees fall under a greater amount of pressure than ever to swing rounds. There are constant whispers about officials being paid off, but no one can prove it.
It’s not like they didn’t break a few rules in their day, though. The under the table sponsorship with the Mottas could have gotten them kicked out of the league if word had gotten out.
“Say,” Puck remarks, tossing his empty bag aside and crossing his arms. “When are you going to come work for me? You bored of playing Hummel’s nurse yet?”
“I don’t know, Puck.” There’s an ache that settles in Blaine’s chest at the thought; he misses probending, he really does, but he can tell he wouldn’t feel satisfied taking a job with the Dragonhawks. These days, it feels like he’s a teenager again; even without being forced in the direction of politics, finding a passion has always been Blaine’s underlying problem. He’s not any closer to finding his way, even if he knows he has to find it on his own. “I don’t think it’s for me.”
“You could at least show Ryder a thing or two. Kid keeps throwing lightning around, no matter how many times I talk to him about it.”
Blaine looks down at where Ryder, Jacob, and Marley are running drills in the gym’s practice arena. “Give him time, he’ll figure it out.”
“When?”
“When the ref slaps him with a penalty and makes him feel like an idiot.”
Puck laughs and claps Blaine on the back. “I’ve missed having you around here. At least think about joining us, yeah? There are worse things you could end up doing.”
“I’ll think about it.”
-
Even though Blaine hears of job opportunities regularly, he’s yet to find a job he likes as much as acting as an advisor to Wes. True to his departure from politics, Blaine is careful never to voice his opinions in public, fearing that his word might be leveraged by the wrong people or twisted away from his original intent, but he never imagined that working with Wes’ staff would still leave him so involved. Most of his afternoons are spent in the office, especially now that everything in Republic City seems to be in a state of flux. Kurt doesn’t speak too much about it, but Blaine’s noticed the house calls becoming more frequent, the voices that filter through their house often hushed.
It seems like secrets are one thing Blaine may never be able to avoid.
“Hello, Master Anderson!”
It’s been three weeks since Wes’ staff expanded to include Rachel Berry, newly hired to take messages and schedule appointments. A new arrival to the city from the Fire Nation, there are certain habits of Rachel’s that feel like a throwback to Blaine’s childhood, for better or worse, but the broad smile that she wears is completely her own.
Offering a small grin in reply, Blaine nods and waves. “You know, Rachel, you could just call me Blaine.”
Her smile immediately fades, expression molding into one of slight consternation. “Oh, I don’t think that would be appropriate, Master Anderson. While I do think that you are one of the more pleasant members of Councilman Sung’s cabinet, the last thing that I would want is for my friendliness to be misconstrued as an attempt to work my way up illegitimately in politics,” she explains, lips pursed. “I would also recommend that you address me as Lady Berry, but I recognize that your station and long-term experience with the upper echelons of society leave you with more freedom to do as you please without fear of repercussion.”
Pausing with a pressed smile, Blaine closes his eyes in amusement. In addition to her regular duties, Rachel takes it upon herself to offer input on legislation and the functioning of society, from ancient traditions to studying new forms of government. Her opinion, whether Wes asks for it or not, is always made clear.
“Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Lady Berry,” concedes Blaine, bowing his head charitably before slipping by and heading for Wes’ office, careful to shut the door firmly behind him.
Quickly glancing up in alarm, Wes’ expression relaxes visibly upon seeing Blaine. “I have to let her go,” Wes groans, quickly dropping his head into his hands, fingers fisting lightly in his hair. “I have to. Please say you’ll fill in until I can find a suitable replacement.”
Sighing between his teeth, Blaine bites back an immediate refusal out of respect for Wes. While he’s had a lot of time on his hands ever since retiring from the probending circuit, Blaine’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t be satisfied working under Wes. Being a personal assistant to a Councilman is a great job, one that often acts as a springboard within national politics; it’s perfect for an ambitious young adult like Rachel, someone who obviously wants to be involved.
The issue is, Blaine doesn’t want to dig his own roots even further. Not when politics definitely isn’t what he wants to be involved with for the rest of his life.
“Is she really that bad?” Blaine asks in a low voice, mindful of the fact that Rachel is on the other side of the wall.
“The worst,” Wes says, pressing his fingers to his temples. “She just... won’t keep a thing to herself.”
Blaine shrugs, holding a hand out in thought. “It’s not the worst quality for a person to have. She’s young, she’s a nonbender. She might be able to offer you insight.”
“Or you could fill in until I can find someone who doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out.”
Even though he knows that Wes has the best of intentions, Blaine’s stomach churns from the directions he’s being pulled in - between Puck with the Dragonhawks and Wes with his political office, Blaine wonders if he’ll ever be fully past the point in his life where people make decisions for him. Or try to.
“How about I talk to her for you?” Blaine suggests, his tone gentle. “Maybe we can find a way for you two to work together.”
Wes doesn’t seem pleased with the response, but he doesn’t immediately turn it down. “Fine. But make it clear she’s walking on thin ice. I don’t care who her fathers are, she is still completely replaceable.”
***
Airbender Island was once the place Kurt went to get away from the sounds of the city. It was somewhere he could unwind, a place that encouraged for one to detach from worldly concerns.
His visits to the island lately have been anything but relaxing.
Avatar Aang has been hidden from public view for the past few years. Any messages to the people of Republic City and the nations have been given through Tenzin. Kurt knows it’s to preserve the image of Aang in his prime, but sometimes he thinks the world could benefit from the reminder that Aang is only human.
Kurt nods as he passes the White Lotus members stationed outside of the bedroom. He pulls back the curtain just a fraction, his heart stuttering a little at the image of Katara and Aang together.
Katara could easily care for her husband herself, but she told Kurt that she doesn’t want to miss out on a single second of the remainder of Aang’s life. He understands all too well. Healing takes a focus that doesn’t leave much room for personal feelings, or quiet moments like this one, both of them curled up on the bed with their fingers laced.
“I’ve always liked your hands,” muses Aang, tracing the back of Katara’s hand with his thumb. Even though his voice sounds softer now, there’s a light quality in Aang’s words, amused and matching the shine of his eyes.
“These old things,” Katara smiles in reply, shaking her head as she clasps her free hand on top of their laced ones, rubbing gently against skin. “That didn’t stop you from nearly scarring me the first time you learned how to firebend.”
“Not even old age will let that memory fade,” he murmurs, raising Katara’s hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. “But hey, don’t I also get to take credit for helping you realize your potential as a healer?”
With a noncommittal hum, Katara presses her nose against Aang’s temple, and her eyes fall to a gradual close. It isn’t the first time that Kurt’s happened across a moment like this. As far back as he can remember, Katara’s been a part of his life, a second mother who was present when the details of the first started to fade with time. Even though Avatar Aang’s duties kept him away from the South Pole most of the time, Kurt recalls his visits well, always full of warmth and laughter as they lit up Katara’s expression with an unparalleled ease.
The only difference now is the sense of urgency. A lack of time.
Kurt takes advantage of the silence to announce his presence. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine, Kurt. We’ve been expecting you,” Katara replies with a smile, while Aang raises his free hand to usher Kurt inside.
The healing basin and pitcher of water, the typical setup for Kurt’s visits, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a tray of tea cups and a kettle.
Katara, seeming to follow Kurt’s gaze, quickly explains the change of scenery. “Now I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m afraid I wasn’t honest about this being a professional call. It’s more of a personal one.”
“Oh?” Kurt can’t think of what personal business he would have with Aang and Katara. He immediately assumes the worst. Are they firing him? Had his moonlighting finally caught up to him? He hadn’t thought that the quality of his work was suffering, but he could be wrong, and if there’s anyone who can’t afford a lesser quality of care, it’s the Avatar.
“Relax, Kurt,” Katara instructs gently. “You aren’t in any trouble. We just wanted to discuss the direction we’re taking with Aang’s care.”
“I can speak for myself, you know,” Aang cuts in, his tone teasing. He has always been a lighthearted man, even in tougher situations. Immediately, Katara falls quiet, and Kurt spots a slight tightening at either corner of her mouth. Sensing his misstep, Aang carefully wraps an arm around her shoulders. Kurt doesn’t miss the fact that Aang’s hold isn’t as tight as it used to be.
His chest tightens.
“Kurt, out of all the people who have looked after me lately, you might be the one who’s worked the hardest. And you know that I consider you to be part of the family,” Aang continues. When Kurt tenses, he reaches out, palm facing up, silently asking for Kurt’s hand. Quietly, Kurt steps closer to the bed, sitting directly beside Aang. “We’ve decided to discontinue treatment. I would still appreciate your services, of course, but nothing extraordinary from here on out.”
The look on Katara’s face seems to say she isn’t in totally agreement with Aang’s words, but Kurt feels it isn’t his place to point that out.
Still, what they’re asking for is big. He feels he deserves at least some explanation. Even as his hand rests in both of Aang’s, he can’t tell whose are shaking.
“Why now? Why me?”
“Because you’re the person we feel we can trust this with.”
Aang had told him that he thought of him as family.
“And as for why now,” Aang continues, “We had been waiting to get everything in order - my affairs and those of the nations. It seems that time has come.”
Kurt has known several kinds of fear in his life. The fear of almost losing his father, the fear of leaving the South Pole, and even the fear of almost losing Blaine. This is a different sort of fear, though. One of letting people down.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.”
A little fear has never stopped him before.