The Outlaw Blaine Anderson (2/14)
Title: The Outlaw Blaine Anderson
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kurt Hummel, lonely shop-keep filled with dreams of escape, meets a stranger in the midst of the Wild West. And then gets taken on an adventure - whether he likes it or not.
The Outlaw Blaine Anderson
Chapter 2
"Morning, Hummel."
"Morning, Sheriff," Kurt answered, sighing as Karofsky fell into step along by him.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Karofsky said, his hand resting on the small of Kurt's back.
Kurt looked up at the dull, overcast sky and raised his eyebrow. "Yes, I guess it is."
"I didn't see you at church this weekend."
"Hmm. Probably because I didn't go."
"That's the third Sunday in a row now, Hummel." Karofsky's hand moved slightly further down his back and Kurt sped up, trying to lose the contact. "You're becoming quite the gossip fodder."
Of all the men in McKinley, Karofsky puzzled him the most. He was rude, overbearing, incompetent as an official and was a downright mean drunk. He had been a stain on Kurt's life since the two had been in short pants. Every prank, every cruel word and every harsh shove had all began with him. But recently he seemed to be doing his best to ingratiate himself into Kurt's life, whenever they were alone anyway. In public, he was the same mean spirited bully as usual.
"Well, I'm sure they'll find something new to talk about soon enough."
"Like a hanging?"
Kurt stopped abruptly at the words, Karofsky's palm smacking him hard in the back. "Wha-what?"
"A hanging, boy. We caught those train robbers from way back Dalton. Two of them at least. Folks from miles around will be coming out to see this." Karofsky grinned and tapped at the badge on his chest. "We haven't had one around here for years. Should be a good show."
"Show?" Kurt spat. "You think that watching a man die is entertainment?"
Karofsky rolled his eyes and, finally, removed his hand. "I should have known you'd be a woman about it."
"Yes, well forgive me for not wanting to see cowards string people up and act like that makes them men. You can include me out." Kurt rose his chin and moved to carry on, but a grip at his elbow dragged him back roughly.
"What did you just call me?" Karofsky demanded, shaking him slightly as he spoke.
"No, that-that wasn't what I meant."
"You think I'm going to take that from the likes of you? Hell, you are barely between hay and grass and you're talking down to me?"
"Let go, you oaf, you're hurting me-"
"Problem here, Sheriff?" A voice spoke from behind them,
Karofsky turned them both, holding Kurt's wrist almost absently. "Take a walk, pal. None of your business can be found over here."
"Seem to be holding onto that boy a mite too tight." Brian drew back his jacket, his Colt gleaming in the dull day's light. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Quickly, the grip loosened and Kurt was released. "Nothing to concern yourself with, stranger. Just a little disagreement. That's all."
"All the same." Brian took a step closer. "I'd be mighty obliged if you could let me borrow young Mr. Hummel here."
Karofsky narrowed his eyes. "You're the stranger staying over at Beiste's, ain't ya? Warbler."
"Guilty."
"How'd you get around the blockade? Ain't no feet meant to be stepping into this town until after the hanging."
"I didn't see none." Brian shrugged. "Guess I got lucky."
"Guess you did." Kurt watched the two, a sense of hysteria building in his throat. He had seen enough gunplay in this town, usually over Quinn Fabray, the last thing he wanted was to see some because of his big mouth.
Karofsky glanced sideways at Kurt, his fingers dancing over his holster.
"Well, I'll leave you two to have a jar." He took a step back and Kurt heaved a sigh of relief.
"You have a nice stay here, Warbler." He curled his lip. "Keep it nice and short."
"Seems the friendly type," Brian said as Karofsky walked, hurried, away. "I oughta bend his elbow sometime."
"I don't need your help." Kurt rounded on him, holding his head high. "You didn't need to do that."
Brian laughed, placing his hands on hips. "That's an odd way to show your gratitude."
"There isn't any to show." Kurt's mouth felt dry, and his heart was beating a little faster in his chest. He knew, deep down, it wasn't just from the altercation with Karofsky. Brian was too close, too there and Kurt didn't know what the hell it was doing to him. "I can handle myself just fine."
"I'm sure you can." Brian licked at his lips, and Kurt dug his nails tight into the material of his trousers. "How about I buy you that drink instead?"
"I-I'm taking over my brother's shift."
"I'm sure he can spare you for just a short while," Brian brushed at his shoulder with his own, that teasing smile on his face. "Just a little drink. What can it hurt?"
Kurt glanced back to his father's shop and then back to Brian's face. "Oh, okay. Sure, sure." He patted at his hair, feeling self conscious under Brian's appraisal. "Just one drink."
*
"And then your pa married the school mistress?"
Kurt nodded. "Yes, and that's when Finn became my brother." Kurt felt a blush high on his cheekbones at the memory. "I was a little over zealous in my matchmaking. Every social we had they'd find themselves partnered up and me nowhere in sight."
"You little sneak! I could tell the moment I saw you!" Brian laughed, his smile bright and wide. "And what about you? Who did you partner up with?"
Kurt's eyes wandered over to Brittany who was chatting with a regular. "I-, er-."
"Oh! I see," Brian grinned slyly. "I never thought you'd be the type."
"The type." Kurt's voice came out as a squeak. "What do you mean?"
"To, how do I put this? To pay for a woman's wares."
"No, it's not like that!" Kurt held up his hands, and damned the heat that spread high across his cheeks. "Well, maybe. Once. My seventeenth. It was, well, you know."
"A gift." Brian nodded. "But not one you wanted?"
"No," Kurt said, surprised at how easily the words slipped out. But something about Brian was doing that to him. One drink had quickly become three, and that little while had become an entire morning. The man seemed to set him at ease, which was something Kurt hadn't felt in a long time. It was hard to maintain his usual defensive mask in the face of Brian's genuine interest and enthusiasm. Many in McKinley found him to be a cold fish, but Brian seemed to be sincerely enjoying his company.
And, Kurt couldn't help but notice, not once had his eyes strayed over to the sweet curve of Santana's bosom as she strolled back and forth with the pitcher.
"You're more of a romantic, I guess?"
"Yes, I think I am. I know that's probably silly but-"
"That's not silly," said Brian quietly. "It's not silly at all."
For a moment, silence fell upon them both, their eyes meeting across the table, and a little spark ignited in Kurt's stomach. For his own sanity, he gave a weak smile and looked away.
"So," said Brian. "Your pa was the sheriff? Before that big lug out there?"
Kurt nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "My father became ill last fall and had to step down. They had an election and Karofsky was voted in."
"Really? I wonder at that. He can't have that many summers behind him."
"As many as me, it's true. He's popular around here. To some that's all that counts."
"I take it he's not filling your father's shoes to the hilt?"
Kurt laughed softly. "Something like that, I guess. He misses it but, well, I'm glad that he's out of it and back in the shop." He shrugged. "Less stress, you know?"
"Ah, yes." Brian smirked. "Got yourself a pair of celebrities just over yonder, I hear."
"Oh, I wouldn't know. The first I heard was from Karofsky this morning." Something must have shown in his face, because the next Kurt knew, Brian's fingers were touching at his wrist gently.
"It bothers you?"
Kurt bit at his lip. He knew that his reasoning and opinions were often found to be peculiar and he didn't want this stranger to look at him the same way. "No, it-" He sighed heavily. "Yes, it does bother me. Karofsky seemed mighty excited about roping them and we haven't even had the trial yet. It's barbaric."
Brian shrugged. "Some would call it justice."
"I wouldn't be one of them, Mr. Warbler," said Kurt severely. "They build it right outside the calaboose, did you know that? So that all they hear all day is the construction of the very thing that will kill them. Don't you think that's just dreadful?"
Brian's thumb worked at the rim of his glass, his expression faraway. "I guess."
Kurt felt a flash of guilt at the morbid turn the conversation had taken. He liked this Brian. He hadn't had this much fun with someone since Harmony had passed through the town. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him off with a whole load of belly achin'.
"What about you, Mr. Warbler?" Kurt said, a shade too brightly. "What brings you here?" There was a tone that Kurt hadn't meant to be there, and he winced slightly, convinced that Brian must think that he was nothing but a croaker.
"I told you! Call me Bl-Brian." He sat back in his chair, stretching his arms up and joining his hands behind his head. The action caused his shirt to pull loose from his waistband and reveal just the smallest flash of skin.
The rush was almost overpowering. Kurt felt it in the base of his spine and the nail beds of his thumbs. He almost gasped from the ferocity of his feelings. Don't, Kurt snapped at himself. You're making a friend. Don't do this again.
"-back east originally," Brian was saying as Kurt blinked back into reality. "I studied law for a little while but it wasn't for me." Brian gestured around himself. "I saddled up my horse and headed out and, well, here I am. It's not an extravagant life but I get by doing a day's work on farms I pass through. Things like that, but it suits me fine."
"I thought I heard an accent! You're from the east!" Kurt gasped. "And you left?"
"You make it sound like I jumped out of heaven! Yes, I left. I went looking for a dream, you could say. "
"And did you?" Kurt wouldn't have paid mind to a tornado tearing through the bar. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a hush. "Did you find it?"
Brian shook his head. "But I have my eyes open."
"Does it not get lonely?" Kurt asked, resting his chin on his palm. "Travelling by yourself."
"Yes." The answer was simple and pure and weighed with more than a whole litany of words could convey. "Sometimes it's unbearable."
"I get lonely," Kurt said softly. "All the time."
Brian opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was cut short by the batwing doors loudly clanging against the walls.
"-looks like the scaffolding will be up by the end of the week," the sheriff's deputy, Strando, announced as he entered the saloon. "Haven't had us a hanging in years."
Kurt sighed heavily with distaste and glanced over at Brian, surprised to see that he was sitting straighter than before. His jaw was tight and Kurt noticed that he seemed to be all one live nerve, tense and coiled.
"They really that Carmel gang that turned over the train?" Will Schuester spoke up.
"That's our preacher," Kurt whispered to Brian, who was paying him no mind, his head tilted slightly back as he listened to the men talk.
"Two short but two enough, for sure," Strando answered. "Won't be no coming or going until the trial's over and we got us two loose necks. Except for the hangman of course. He'll be here by morrow."
"Little premature, isn't it?" Will asked, a frown on his face. "Shouldn't we wait until they've been tried?"
Strando tutted and his cronies joined in merrily. "And pay their keep and their meals? Do we look like charity, preacher? The trial will be over and done with tomorrow, for sure. And those two will be dancing on the widow. It will be all done all according to Hoyle, so don't worry none about that."
"Mr. Strando!" Will gasped. "You can't have an execution on the Sabbath."
"Lands sake, Monday, then." Strando rolled his eyes.
"You think that the other members of the gang may ride through here? Get through the blockade?"
"Nah, ain't no iron or loyalty to that sort. They'll be happy to have less to split I should imagine." He sat up onto the stool, shooting Brittany a wink and dropping his coin purse down onto the table. "Usual, my sweet."
"Is it true one's a gal? That's what I saws on the wanted posters. Three guys and a miss."
Kurt gasped at that and for the first time since he came in, Strando turned to look at him. Seeing whom he had for an audience, he sneered and turned back to the others.
"Ayuh, it's true. World be coming to something when the dames have more balls than the men." The last part was loud, and obviously for Kurt's benefit. "Hate to waste a good woman like that. A fine looking gal, make no mistake," Strando chuckled. "I mean, no Miss Fabray, but for a downright criminal? A fine looking gal. I dare say Karofsky will be tending to her cell this very evening."
Brian's hands clenched tightly round his glass, knuckles whitening.
"Lucky son of a bitch," another member grumbled. "You think you'll get to plow that?"
"Gentlemen, please," Will beseeched. "That's hardl-"
"Why not?" Strando laughed heartily. "Someone has to cover Karofsky's shift sometime!"
"I'd mind your tongue, friend," Brian spoke up, his voice even and cool. "Or someone will mind it for you."
Kurt's head snapped back round to face Brian, as the bar fell into a shocked silence. Karofsky may have got to his position based on his popularity, but Strando got chosen for his brute strength alone.
"Pardon, pal?" Strando said, standing up from his stool and approaching the table in slow measured steps. "Could have sworn you just put your nose where it don't belong? Noses come into bad times doing things like that."
"He-he was thinking of the ladies present, that's all." Kurt said hurriedly, indicating to Brittany and Santana at the counter. "The conversation was a mite uncouth."
"Ladies?" Strando turned to the women and back again. "I see only whores. Unless we're including you in that, darling?"
The crash of an overturning chair rang out and all eyes were on Brian as he rose to his feet.
"I'm going to ask you again. Mind that tongue." Like he had with Karofsky earlier, he drew back his jacket and revealed the butt of his gun. "I'm asking you as a gentleman to change the subject."
"We got us a gent! Well, ain't we blessed! And me, without my Sunday best." Strando eyed the gun with a cold grin. "You'd be wise to not throw that around here, dude."
"Don't give me reason to, and we'll get along just fine." Brian raised his chin, his fingers twitching as Kurt pressed himself back into his chair.
"Boys," Santana drawled. "You're both pretty. Now how about you both stop with the shop talk and someone buy this lady a drink." She eased over, encircling Strando's arm and pressing it flush against her bosom. "A girl could die of thirst waiting for a little attention around here." She shot Kurt a wink and he returned it with a grateful smile.
"Okay, since it's you, darling." Strando pulled her tighter, and Santana gave a little grimace of pain that tore at Kurt's heart. "But maybe the dude and his little wasp should clear out. This is a man's joint. This ain't no sewing circle."
Brian made as if to say something else, but Kurt was already up and around the table. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's just go."
Never taking his eyes off Strando, Brian allowed himself to be led outside, not exhaling until they reached the noon air.
"This is a sweet little town, isn't it?" he said blandly.
"That's one word for it, yes," said Kurt, causing Brian to smile and let some of the tension clear from his shoulders. "But I have many others that you may have at your disposal." Kurt pushed his tongue into his cheek, and turned slightly, facing the other man. "Mr. Warbler-"
"Brian."
"Brian," Kurt said almost reverentially, savouring it on his tongue. "Do you believe that you'll stay long? In town, I mean."
Brian observed him, his expression cool. "Why?"
"I was-It's just-" A voice in Kurt's head was screaming at him to stop, but his tongue had grabbed the words and was running amok. "I wondered if you would perhaps like some company. When you leave?" Kurt licked at his lips. "Me, I mean. Perhaps I could come. With you." Kurt winced as his fingers unconsciously gesticulated walking. "Out of town." Ouch. It was truly amazing that he had managed to restrain himself from grabbing a stick and drawing a picture in the dirt to further explain.
"You'd want to come with me?" Brian said, his eyebrows tracing his hairline.
"If that would be satisfactory with you, Mr-Brian..." Kurt rushed on. "I could be a great help! And I can tend to a horse's shoe better than anyone, why I tended to yours and isn't she fine? I can read and write. I've had all my schooling. And I can mend clothes just as well as any woman. I wouldn't be a bother, I promise you."
"And your father? He would be just dandy that you'd throw your hat in with me? A man you met only yesterday and have spoken to on three occasions."
"He would-" Kurt faltered. "He would understand. I have expressed my wish to leave here many a time. And it's not like I can never come back is it?"
"I wonder at that." Brian's voice was low, almost a whisper. "I do wonder at that."
"And it wouldn't be forever. I've been saving up, you see, to go east? And I figure I could do what you do! Odd jobs on farms and the like. You must make more than I do at the shop." Kurt frowned. "Father has an annoying habit of setting up tabs for everyone."
"He's some fellow your pa." Brian laughed, and Kurt smiled dopily back. If he was laughing, maybe he liked the idea. Maybe he wouldn't mind travelling with Kurt, showing him the ropes. It would be nice to have a friend for once. A real friend.
Just a friend. That's all.
"So, what do you say. Will you at least give it your consideration?"
"Kurt, I-" Brian's grin grew cold and muted, his eyes fixed over Kurt's shoulder. "I guess your deputy was right. They sure made short work of it."
Turning, Kurt saw that scaffolding of the gallows was already underway. Men made their way back and forth with planks and nails, most likely bought at Hummel's, and the sound of sawing started up.
"He's not my anything," Kurt muttered. "And I guess the excitement made them work faster."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You don't like it either, do you?" Kurt asked, stepping a tad closer, his knuckles gently nudging against Brian's.
"Have you seen one before?" Brian's eyes darted downwards at their contacted flesh. Kurt waited for him to pull away and was pleased when he didn't.
"A hanging? Once. Just once when I was a boy. I hated it."
Brian smiled softly. "And the trial will be tomorrow and Sunday-"
"Everyone will be at the church service."
"Including you?"
"Oh, I'm not really a church goer." Kurt laughed. "I'll probably be in the sh-"
"You should go." Brian moved away, his skin leaving Kurt's abruptly. "You should go to church, Kurt."
It felt like lead to his stomach. Stepping back, he searched Brian's face for the friend that he had made in the bar, for the fun lively man that he had spent the morning with. He was gone. All Kurt found was an unreadable dark gaze that appraised him coldly. He knows. He knows and he hates it. He's disgusted.
"And my proposal?" he said stiffly, hating the pitch that was higher than usual.
"That wouldn't be good idea, Kurt." Brian's voice was bland and not a tiny trace of friendliness lay there anymore. For the first time since they had spoken, Kurt felt a shiver of unease work its way down his spine.
"I see," replied Kurt, coldly. "Well, I must get going. Good day to you, Mr. Warbler." Kurt raised his nose high, and spun deftly on his heel.
Quickly, ignoring the burn of humiliation clutching at his skin, he went to make his way to work.
"Kurt," Brian called, stopping him. Kurt turned back, telling his heart to cease its ridiculous, foolish rush of hope. "I mean it. Go to church this Sunday."
Clenching his hands into fists, Kurt gave him no reply, simply returning to his journey.
The sooner he left this folly behind, the better.
Chapter 3
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kurt Hummel, lonely shop-keep filled with dreams of escape, meets a stranger in the midst of the Wild West. And then gets taken on an adventure - whether he likes it or not.
The Outlaw Blaine Anderson
Chapter 2
"Morning, Hummel."
"Morning, Sheriff," Kurt answered, sighing as Karofsky fell into step along by him.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Karofsky said, his hand resting on the small of Kurt's back.
Kurt looked up at the dull, overcast sky and raised his eyebrow. "Yes, I guess it is."
"I didn't see you at church this weekend."
"Hmm. Probably because I didn't go."
"That's the third Sunday in a row now, Hummel." Karofsky's hand moved slightly further down his back and Kurt sped up, trying to lose the contact. "You're becoming quite the gossip fodder."
Of all the men in McKinley, Karofsky puzzled him the most. He was rude, overbearing, incompetent as an official and was a downright mean drunk. He had been a stain on Kurt's life since the two had been in short pants. Every prank, every cruel word and every harsh shove had all began with him. But recently he seemed to be doing his best to ingratiate himself into Kurt's life, whenever they were alone anyway. In public, he was the same mean spirited bully as usual.
"Well, I'm sure they'll find something new to talk about soon enough."
"Like a hanging?"
Kurt stopped abruptly at the words, Karofsky's palm smacking him hard in the back. "Wha-what?"
"A hanging, boy. We caught those train robbers from way back Dalton. Two of them at least. Folks from miles around will be coming out to see this." Karofsky grinned and tapped at the badge on his chest. "We haven't had one around here for years. Should be a good show."
"Show?" Kurt spat. "You think that watching a man die is entertainment?"
Karofsky rolled his eyes and, finally, removed his hand. "I should have known you'd be a woman about it."
"Yes, well forgive me for not wanting to see cowards string people up and act like that makes them men. You can include me out." Kurt rose his chin and moved to carry on, but a grip at his elbow dragged him back roughly.
"What did you just call me?" Karofsky demanded, shaking him slightly as he spoke.
"No, that-that wasn't what I meant."
"You think I'm going to take that from the likes of you? Hell, you are barely between hay and grass and you're talking down to me?"
"Let go, you oaf, you're hurting me-"
"Problem here, Sheriff?" A voice spoke from behind them,
Karofsky turned them both, holding Kurt's wrist almost absently. "Take a walk, pal. None of your business can be found over here."
"Seem to be holding onto that boy a mite too tight." Brian drew back his jacket, his Colt gleaming in the dull day's light. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Quickly, the grip loosened and Kurt was released. "Nothing to concern yourself with, stranger. Just a little disagreement. That's all."
"All the same." Brian took a step closer. "I'd be mighty obliged if you could let me borrow young Mr. Hummel here."
Karofsky narrowed his eyes. "You're the stranger staying over at Beiste's, ain't ya? Warbler."
"Guilty."
"How'd you get around the blockade? Ain't no feet meant to be stepping into this town until after the hanging."
"I didn't see none." Brian shrugged. "Guess I got lucky."
"Guess you did." Kurt watched the two, a sense of hysteria building in his throat. He had seen enough gunplay in this town, usually over Quinn Fabray, the last thing he wanted was to see some because of his big mouth.
Karofsky glanced sideways at Kurt, his fingers dancing over his holster.
"Well, I'll leave you two to have a jar." He took a step back and Kurt heaved a sigh of relief.
"You have a nice stay here, Warbler." He curled his lip. "Keep it nice and short."
"Seems the friendly type," Brian said as Karofsky walked, hurried, away. "I oughta bend his elbow sometime."
"I don't need your help." Kurt rounded on him, holding his head high. "You didn't need to do that."
Brian laughed, placing his hands on hips. "That's an odd way to show your gratitude."
"There isn't any to show." Kurt's mouth felt dry, and his heart was beating a little faster in his chest. He knew, deep down, it wasn't just from the altercation with Karofsky. Brian was too close, too there and Kurt didn't know what the hell it was doing to him. "I can handle myself just fine."
"I'm sure you can." Brian licked at his lips, and Kurt dug his nails tight into the material of his trousers. "How about I buy you that drink instead?"
"I-I'm taking over my brother's shift."
"I'm sure he can spare you for just a short while," Brian brushed at his shoulder with his own, that teasing smile on his face. "Just a little drink. What can it hurt?"
Kurt glanced back to his father's shop and then back to Brian's face. "Oh, okay. Sure, sure." He patted at his hair, feeling self conscious under Brian's appraisal. "Just one drink."
*
"And then your pa married the school mistress?"
Kurt nodded. "Yes, and that's when Finn became my brother." Kurt felt a blush high on his cheekbones at the memory. "I was a little over zealous in my matchmaking. Every social we had they'd find themselves partnered up and me nowhere in sight."
"You little sneak! I could tell the moment I saw you!" Brian laughed, his smile bright and wide. "And what about you? Who did you partner up with?"
Kurt's eyes wandered over to Brittany who was chatting with a regular. "I-, er-."
"Oh! I see," Brian grinned slyly. "I never thought you'd be the type."
"The type." Kurt's voice came out as a squeak. "What do you mean?"
"To, how do I put this? To pay for a woman's wares."
"No, it's not like that!" Kurt held up his hands, and damned the heat that spread high across his cheeks. "Well, maybe. Once. My seventeenth. It was, well, you know."
"A gift." Brian nodded. "But not one you wanted?"
"No," Kurt said, surprised at how easily the words slipped out. But something about Brian was doing that to him. One drink had quickly become three, and that little while had become an entire morning. The man seemed to set him at ease, which was something Kurt hadn't felt in a long time. It was hard to maintain his usual defensive mask in the face of Brian's genuine interest and enthusiasm. Many in McKinley found him to be a cold fish, but Brian seemed to be sincerely enjoying his company.
And, Kurt couldn't help but notice, not once had his eyes strayed over to the sweet curve of Santana's bosom as she strolled back and forth with the pitcher.
"You're more of a romantic, I guess?"
"Yes, I think I am. I know that's probably silly but-"
"That's not silly," said Brian quietly. "It's not silly at all."
For a moment, silence fell upon them both, their eyes meeting across the table, and a little spark ignited in Kurt's stomach. For his own sanity, he gave a weak smile and looked away.
"So," said Brian. "Your pa was the sheriff? Before that big lug out there?"
Kurt nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "My father became ill last fall and had to step down. They had an election and Karofsky was voted in."
"Really? I wonder at that. He can't have that many summers behind him."
"As many as me, it's true. He's popular around here. To some that's all that counts."
"I take it he's not filling your father's shoes to the hilt?"
Kurt laughed softly. "Something like that, I guess. He misses it but, well, I'm glad that he's out of it and back in the shop." He shrugged. "Less stress, you know?"
"Ah, yes." Brian smirked. "Got yourself a pair of celebrities just over yonder, I hear."
"Oh, I wouldn't know. The first I heard was from Karofsky this morning." Something must have shown in his face, because the next Kurt knew, Brian's fingers were touching at his wrist gently.
"It bothers you?"
Kurt bit at his lip. He knew that his reasoning and opinions were often found to be peculiar and he didn't want this stranger to look at him the same way. "No, it-" He sighed heavily. "Yes, it does bother me. Karofsky seemed mighty excited about roping them and we haven't even had the trial yet. It's barbaric."
Brian shrugged. "Some would call it justice."
"I wouldn't be one of them, Mr. Warbler," said Kurt severely. "They build it right outside the calaboose, did you know that? So that all they hear all day is the construction of the very thing that will kill them. Don't you think that's just dreadful?"
Brian's thumb worked at the rim of his glass, his expression faraway. "I guess."
Kurt felt a flash of guilt at the morbid turn the conversation had taken. He liked this Brian. He hadn't had this much fun with someone since Harmony had passed through the town. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him off with a whole load of belly achin'.
"What about you, Mr. Warbler?" Kurt said, a shade too brightly. "What brings you here?" There was a tone that Kurt hadn't meant to be there, and he winced slightly, convinced that Brian must think that he was nothing but a croaker.
"I told you! Call me Bl-Brian." He sat back in his chair, stretching his arms up and joining his hands behind his head. The action caused his shirt to pull loose from his waistband and reveal just the smallest flash of skin.
The rush was almost overpowering. Kurt felt it in the base of his spine and the nail beds of his thumbs. He almost gasped from the ferocity of his feelings. Don't, Kurt snapped at himself. You're making a friend. Don't do this again.
"-back east originally," Brian was saying as Kurt blinked back into reality. "I studied law for a little while but it wasn't for me." Brian gestured around himself. "I saddled up my horse and headed out and, well, here I am. It's not an extravagant life but I get by doing a day's work on farms I pass through. Things like that, but it suits me fine."
"I thought I heard an accent! You're from the east!" Kurt gasped. "And you left?"
"You make it sound like I jumped out of heaven! Yes, I left. I went looking for a dream, you could say. "
"And did you?" Kurt wouldn't have paid mind to a tornado tearing through the bar. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a hush. "Did you find it?"
Brian shook his head. "But I have my eyes open."
"Does it not get lonely?" Kurt asked, resting his chin on his palm. "Travelling by yourself."
"Yes." The answer was simple and pure and weighed with more than a whole litany of words could convey. "Sometimes it's unbearable."
"I get lonely," Kurt said softly. "All the time."
Brian opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was cut short by the batwing doors loudly clanging against the walls.
"-looks like the scaffolding will be up by the end of the week," the sheriff's deputy, Strando, announced as he entered the saloon. "Haven't had us a hanging in years."
Kurt sighed heavily with distaste and glanced over at Brian, surprised to see that he was sitting straighter than before. His jaw was tight and Kurt noticed that he seemed to be all one live nerve, tense and coiled.
"They really that Carmel gang that turned over the train?" Will Schuester spoke up.
"That's our preacher," Kurt whispered to Brian, who was paying him no mind, his head tilted slightly back as he listened to the men talk.
"Two short but two enough, for sure," Strando answered. "Won't be no coming or going until the trial's over and we got us two loose necks. Except for the hangman of course. He'll be here by morrow."
"Little premature, isn't it?" Will asked, a frown on his face. "Shouldn't we wait until they've been tried?"
Strando tutted and his cronies joined in merrily. "And pay their keep and their meals? Do we look like charity, preacher? The trial will be over and done with tomorrow, for sure. And those two will be dancing on the widow. It will be all done all according to Hoyle, so don't worry none about that."
"Mr. Strando!" Will gasped. "You can't have an execution on the Sabbath."
"Lands sake, Monday, then." Strando rolled his eyes.
"You think that the other members of the gang may ride through here? Get through the blockade?"
"Nah, ain't no iron or loyalty to that sort. They'll be happy to have less to split I should imagine." He sat up onto the stool, shooting Brittany a wink and dropping his coin purse down onto the table. "Usual, my sweet."
"Is it true one's a gal? That's what I saws on the wanted posters. Three guys and a miss."
Kurt gasped at that and for the first time since he came in, Strando turned to look at him. Seeing whom he had for an audience, he sneered and turned back to the others.
"Ayuh, it's true. World be coming to something when the dames have more balls than the men." The last part was loud, and obviously for Kurt's benefit. "Hate to waste a good woman like that. A fine looking gal, make no mistake," Strando chuckled. "I mean, no Miss Fabray, but for a downright criminal? A fine looking gal. I dare say Karofsky will be tending to her cell this very evening."
Brian's hands clenched tightly round his glass, knuckles whitening.
"Lucky son of a bitch," another member grumbled. "You think you'll get to plow that?"
"Gentlemen, please," Will beseeched. "That's hardl-"
"Why not?" Strando laughed heartily. "Someone has to cover Karofsky's shift sometime!"
"I'd mind your tongue, friend," Brian spoke up, his voice even and cool. "Or someone will mind it for you."
Kurt's head snapped back round to face Brian, as the bar fell into a shocked silence. Karofsky may have got to his position based on his popularity, but Strando got chosen for his brute strength alone.
"Pardon, pal?" Strando said, standing up from his stool and approaching the table in slow measured steps. "Could have sworn you just put your nose where it don't belong? Noses come into bad times doing things like that."
"He-he was thinking of the ladies present, that's all." Kurt said hurriedly, indicating to Brittany and Santana at the counter. "The conversation was a mite uncouth."
"Ladies?" Strando turned to the women and back again. "I see only whores. Unless we're including you in that, darling?"
The crash of an overturning chair rang out and all eyes were on Brian as he rose to his feet.
"I'm going to ask you again. Mind that tongue." Like he had with Karofsky earlier, he drew back his jacket and revealed the butt of his gun. "I'm asking you as a gentleman to change the subject."
"We got us a gent! Well, ain't we blessed! And me, without my Sunday best." Strando eyed the gun with a cold grin. "You'd be wise to not throw that around here, dude."
"Don't give me reason to, and we'll get along just fine." Brian raised his chin, his fingers twitching as Kurt pressed himself back into his chair.
"Boys," Santana drawled. "You're both pretty. Now how about you both stop with the shop talk and someone buy this lady a drink." She eased over, encircling Strando's arm and pressing it flush against her bosom. "A girl could die of thirst waiting for a little attention around here." She shot Kurt a wink and he returned it with a grateful smile.
"Okay, since it's you, darling." Strando pulled her tighter, and Santana gave a little grimace of pain that tore at Kurt's heart. "But maybe the dude and his little wasp should clear out. This is a man's joint. This ain't no sewing circle."
Brian made as if to say something else, but Kurt was already up and around the table. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's just go."
Never taking his eyes off Strando, Brian allowed himself to be led outside, not exhaling until they reached the noon air.
"This is a sweet little town, isn't it?" he said blandly.
"That's one word for it, yes," said Kurt, causing Brian to smile and let some of the tension clear from his shoulders. "But I have many others that you may have at your disposal." Kurt pushed his tongue into his cheek, and turned slightly, facing the other man. "Mr. Warbler-"
"Brian."
"Brian," Kurt said almost reverentially, savouring it on his tongue. "Do you believe that you'll stay long? In town, I mean."
Brian observed him, his expression cool. "Why?"
"I was-It's just-" A voice in Kurt's head was screaming at him to stop, but his tongue had grabbed the words and was running amok. "I wondered if you would perhaps like some company. When you leave?" Kurt licked at his lips. "Me, I mean. Perhaps I could come. With you." Kurt winced as his fingers unconsciously gesticulated walking. "Out of town." Ouch. It was truly amazing that he had managed to restrain himself from grabbing a stick and drawing a picture in the dirt to further explain.
"You'd want to come with me?" Brian said, his eyebrows tracing his hairline.
"If that would be satisfactory with you, Mr-Brian..." Kurt rushed on. "I could be a great help! And I can tend to a horse's shoe better than anyone, why I tended to yours and isn't she fine? I can read and write. I've had all my schooling. And I can mend clothes just as well as any woman. I wouldn't be a bother, I promise you."
"And your father? He would be just dandy that you'd throw your hat in with me? A man you met only yesterday and have spoken to on three occasions."
"He would-" Kurt faltered. "He would understand. I have expressed my wish to leave here many a time. And it's not like I can never come back is it?"
"I wonder at that." Brian's voice was low, almost a whisper. "I do wonder at that."
"And it wouldn't be forever. I've been saving up, you see, to go east? And I figure I could do what you do! Odd jobs on farms and the like. You must make more than I do at the shop." Kurt frowned. "Father has an annoying habit of setting up tabs for everyone."
"He's some fellow your pa." Brian laughed, and Kurt smiled dopily back. If he was laughing, maybe he liked the idea. Maybe he wouldn't mind travelling with Kurt, showing him the ropes. It would be nice to have a friend for once. A real friend.
Just a friend. That's all.
"So, what do you say. Will you at least give it your consideration?"
"Kurt, I-" Brian's grin grew cold and muted, his eyes fixed over Kurt's shoulder. "I guess your deputy was right. They sure made short work of it."
Turning, Kurt saw that scaffolding of the gallows was already underway. Men made their way back and forth with planks and nails, most likely bought at Hummel's, and the sound of sawing started up.
"He's not my anything," Kurt muttered. "And I guess the excitement made them work faster."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You don't like it either, do you?" Kurt asked, stepping a tad closer, his knuckles gently nudging against Brian's.
"Have you seen one before?" Brian's eyes darted downwards at their contacted flesh. Kurt waited for him to pull away and was pleased when he didn't.
"A hanging? Once. Just once when I was a boy. I hated it."
Brian smiled softly. "And the trial will be tomorrow and Sunday-"
"Everyone will be at the church service."
"Including you?"
"Oh, I'm not really a church goer." Kurt laughed. "I'll probably be in the sh-"
"You should go." Brian moved away, his skin leaving Kurt's abruptly. "You should go to church, Kurt."
It felt like lead to his stomach. Stepping back, he searched Brian's face for the friend that he had made in the bar, for the fun lively man that he had spent the morning with. He was gone. All Kurt found was an unreadable dark gaze that appraised him coldly. He knows. He knows and he hates it. He's disgusted.
"And my proposal?" he said stiffly, hating the pitch that was higher than usual.
"That wouldn't be good idea, Kurt." Brian's voice was bland and not a tiny trace of friendliness lay there anymore. For the first time since they had spoken, Kurt felt a shiver of unease work its way down his spine.
"I see," replied Kurt, coldly. "Well, I must get going. Good day to you, Mr. Warbler." Kurt raised his nose high, and spun deftly on his heel.
Quickly, ignoring the burn of humiliation clutching at his skin, he went to make his way to work.
"Kurt," Brian called, stopping him. Kurt turned back, telling his heart to cease its ridiculous, foolish rush of hope. "I mean it. Go to church this Sunday."
Clenching his hands into fists, Kurt gave him no reply, simply returning to his journey.
The sooner he left this folly behind, the better.
Chapter 3