Film Noir Part Three, Glee fic; Kurt/Blaine
Title: Film Noir (Part Three)
Author: erikssiren
Fandom(s): Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Burt, mentions of other Glee characters
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and allusions to adult situations
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers, warnings: Swearing, smoking if that concerns you. Some mention of violence/blood, nothing graphic
Summary: 1940s!AU Blaine Anderson is a private eye notorious for his multiple conquests and love of alcohol, Kurt Hummel is a rich heir to his father's business with rumors of multiple women in his life. When Kurt comes to Blaine because he thinks he's being followed, their worlds are turned upside down.
Author's Notes: See Part One
A huge thanks to my amazing betas slayerkitty and svgechick. You ladies are the best!
Blaine was still not sure what happened. One minute they were all enjoying a guessing game, Blaine perched on the armchair in which Kurt sat, smiling as the brunnette’s arm brushed against his leg surreptitiously. The next minute the lights had gone out, several women screamed and Blaine had pulled his gun on instinct, standing in front of Kurt. A gunshot rang out, though Blaine knew he had never fired. The lights blinked back on and Finn was lying in the middle of the living room, blood bubbling from his lips as he grasped at a wound on his chest.
Finn’s mother screamed, a cry Blaine hoped never to hear again in his life and the gun was wrestled from Blaine’s hand. Noah looked at him with an unreadable face before gesturing to Blaine’s right. There stood a blonde Blaine had seen earlier in the party, a gun in her hand and tears down her cheeks. She was screaming at Finn’s body, blaming him for betraying her and their baby. Sugar’s father grabbed her just as she lunged at Rachel who was kneeling at Finn’s head, sobbing uncontrollably.
Kurt, who had stood after the lights came back on, pushed past Blaine and fell to the ground beside his brother, hands covering the wound in a futile attempt to save the life that had already drained from him. He turned to Blaine suddenly, eyes wild and wet with tears.
“You were supposed to protect me! Kurt screamed, Finn’s blood on his hands. “You were supposed to keep me safe!” He broke into sobs and Blaine could do nothing, every time Blaine reached for him, Kurt would flinch away. Blaine wasn’t sure how this was his fault, but it seemed everyone else agreed with Kurt’s agonized cries as those who weren’t staring at the tall man’s fallen body were eying him suspiciously. He suspected later that Kurt had meant Blaine had failed to keep him from any hurt the world may put before him, but in that moment Blaine felt utterly lost.
“I think you should go,” Burt said not unkindly. He gives Blaine a slightly reassuring look as he the young man turned away. With heavy feet Blaine walked toward the door, Kurt’s agonized sobs echoing behind him when a sight almost made him stop. There, in the shadows just outside the living room stood Karofksy, an unreadable look on his face. It was almost like triumph, or rather a man one step closer to it. Blaine almost turned around to throw his arms around Kurt, protecting him from that odd stare but another raspy cry from Kurt behind him forced him onward.
Back in his office, Blaine sits and he drinks. The burn was different and more unwelcome than the burn from his tears. Despite the overwhelming thought hat he had lost Kurt forever, his brain was working on overdrive, going over that last look on Karokfsky’s face. Something wasn’t right. Setting the bottle aside, Blaine poured over his notes-the notes he had filched from Karofksy’s coat pocket, the photos he had taken, the time he had spent with Kurt-all the while ignoring the pain tightening in his chest.
He continued mapping things out even after the haze of alcohol had lifted; the picture forming made no sense. Finally, even with all the pieces in place, Blaine didn’t understand. How did this happen? Taking another look at the photos spread across his desk, lingering on the look of obsession on Karofksy’s face, Blaine grabbed his gun and checked the chamber. Satisfied at the sight of the bullets he grabbed his coat and left, determined to keep up his promise to Kurt.
***
Blaine burst through the front door without knocking, gun raised and his breaths unnaturally loud in the quiet. Everything was dark; the police must have moved quickly; Finn’s body was gone and if it hadn‘t been for the single officer he had to hide from outside, he wouldn‘t have known anything had happened here. Ears straining for any sign of life, Blaine walked slowly further into the house. Suddenly a floorboard above him creaked and on instinct he raised the gun. Hearing nothing more Blaine made his way slowly to the steps when a cry ripped through the air.
“He made me feel this way! I didn‘t want to but he made me!” Even muffled, Blaine recognized the agony in Karofksy’s voice. Suddenly a single gunshot rang out and he started as though the bullet had bitten into his own flesh.
“Kurt!” The cry was involuntary and stupid but Blaine’s mind couldn’t function beyond the horrifying images it was producing, all of them paling in comparison to the sight that appeared before him as he ran into Kurt’s bedroom, the only room from which warm light was spilling out of.
There, on the floor lay Kurt; his pale skin bruising around his eye from a man’s fist, his hair tangled from someone ripping their fingers through it, his lip still bleeding from the unforgiving smack of the butt of a gun. His pristine white shirt was slowly seeping red where his arm fell in a pool of blood but Blaine couldn’t decipher whose it was because lying next to him was Karofsky, his forehead streaming red from a single wound directly between his eyes.
Looming above them stood Burt, eyes glassy and his arm still outstretched with the gun pointing at the beefy detective’s unmoving body. Blaine couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move, eyes trained on Kurt’s chest, waiting for any sign of movement.
“He had his hands on my boy.” The desperation in Burt’s voice pulled Blaine’s eyes away from Kurt’s still body. Unfathomable pain filled the older man’s features as he turned to look at the private detective. “He had his hands on my boy.” The door to the house slammed open, forcing Blaine into action.
“Give me the gun, Mr. Hummel,” he said, distantly proud of how even his voice was even though he was raging inside. “Let me take the blame for this; it’s okay.” He held out his hand, trembling harder as the footsteps of the patrolman grew louder. “Look, I know you’re the one who hired Karofksy and I get it. You wanted to make sure your son wasn’t getting himself in trouble. But you didn’t do this, this wasn’t your fault.” The steps grew louder. "Give me the gun!”
“Put the gun down!” It’s too late, Blaine thought dismally. Even so he turned, ready to confess to Karofksy’s murder when he heard the thunk of metal on wood. Burt brushed past him as he walked slowly toward the police officer.
“He put his hands on my boy,” was all Burt would say as the officer handcuffed him.
Three weeks later Blaine found himself at the county jail, waiting on one side of a glass window. Suddenly Burt Hummel sat on the other side, eyes sunken and face covered in stubble. He picked up the telephone receiver as though it were almost too much an effort to bear.
“You weren’t in court today,” the older man said in a lifeless tone.
“They said you asked for a fast and speedy trial,” Blaine answered, voice scratchy from disuse and alcohol. He wasn’t drinking as much as he did when his mother died but still almost as much as he was drinking when he first met Kurt. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Burt shrugged - more a roll of a shoulder than the intended gesture. “I know what I did and I know why I did it. Not much more is needed.” Blaine let out an impatient sigh; a short breath through the nose.
“This isn’t going to help Kurt,” he said, voice cracking at the name of the man he loved.
“No, it’s not,” Burt answered, tears filling in his eyes at the mention of his son. Both men grew silent, remembering the sight of Kurt lying prone on the floor of his bedroom. “Only you can do that.”
“How?”
“Avenge him.” Burt leaned forward suddenly, voice full of anger. “Avenge the pain my son was put through.”
“You shot Karofksy already,” Blaine said in a hushed voice, making sure no one overheard this admission of guilt. “What else is there?”
“By making sure no one else goes through what he had to go through,” Burt answered, still impassioned. “By remembering how you loved him.”
They were pretty words, Blaine thought later as he walked out into the rainstorm outside the jail. But it was much easier said than done. More likely he was going to become a worse version of the man he was before Kurt: drunk, bitter and cynical. Only this time he had the added pain of knowing even the purest love could be tainted by the harsh world that surrounded them.
Then he remembered Kurt’s bright smile; the way he cared for Blaine unwavering even as he had to endure Blaine breaking his promise and returning to the bottle. But maybe, Blaine thought, maybe he could do as Burt said. Maybe he could finally be worth the love Kurt had given him.
END
-----
Yes, Kurt's fate is ambiguous (at least, I hope it is). This could change, it could not. It will depend on what I think when I return to this fic later. Due to various reasons I didn't spend as much time on it as I hoped, so I plan on coming back to this after some time has passed and editing, adding, changing, etc. I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!
Author: erikssiren
Fandom(s): Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Burt, mentions of other Glee characters
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and allusions to adult situations
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers, warnings: Swearing, smoking if that concerns you. Some mention of violence/blood, nothing graphic
Summary: 1940s!AU Blaine Anderson is a private eye notorious for his multiple conquests and love of alcohol, Kurt Hummel is a rich heir to his father's business with rumors of multiple women in his life. When Kurt comes to Blaine because he thinks he's being followed, their worlds are turned upside down.
Author's Notes: See Part One
A huge thanks to my amazing betas slayerkitty and svgechick. You ladies are the best!
Blaine was still not sure what happened. One minute they were all enjoying a guessing game, Blaine perched on the armchair in which Kurt sat, smiling as the brunnette’s arm brushed against his leg surreptitiously. The next minute the lights had gone out, several women screamed and Blaine had pulled his gun on instinct, standing in front of Kurt. A gunshot rang out, though Blaine knew he had never fired. The lights blinked back on and Finn was lying in the middle of the living room, blood bubbling from his lips as he grasped at a wound on his chest.
Finn’s mother screamed, a cry Blaine hoped never to hear again in his life and the gun was wrestled from Blaine’s hand. Noah looked at him with an unreadable face before gesturing to Blaine’s right. There stood a blonde Blaine had seen earlier in the party, a gun in her hand and tears down her cheeks. She was screaming at Finn’s body, blaming him for betraying her and their baby. Sugar’s father grabbed her just as she lunged at Rachel who was kneeling at Finn’s head, sobbing uncontrollably.
Kurt, who had stood after the lights came back on, pushed past Blaine and fell to the ground beside his brother, hands covering the wound in a futile attempt to save the life that had already drained from him. He turned to Blaine suddenly, eyes wild and wet with tears.
“You were supposed to protect me! Kurt screamed, Finn’s blood on his hands. “You were supposed to keep me safe!” He broke into sobs and Blaine could do nothing, every time Blaine reached for him, Kurt would flinch away. Blaine wasn’t sure how this was his fault, but it seemed everyone else agreed with Kurt’s agonized cries as those who weren’t staring at the tall man’s fallen body were eying him suspiciously. He suspected later that Kurt had meant Blaine had failed to keep him from any hurt the world may put before him, but in that moment Blaine felt utterly lost.
“I think you should go,” Burt said not unkindly. He gives Blaine a slightly reassuring look as he the young man turned away. With heavy feet Blaine walked toward the door, Kurt’s agonized sobs echoing behind him when a sight almost made him stop. There, in the shadows just outside the living room stood Karofksy, an unreadable look on his face. It was almost like triumph, or rather a man one step closer to it. Blaine almost turned around to throw his arms around Kurt, protecting him from that odd stare but another raspy cry from Kurt behind him forced him onward.
Back in his office, Blaine sits and he drinks. The burn was different and more unwelcome than the burn from his tears. Despite the overwhelming thought hat he had lost Kurt forever, his brain was working on overdrive, going over that last look on Karokfsky’s face. Something wasn’t right. Setting the bottle aside, Blaine poured over his notes-the notes he had filched from Karofksy’s coat pocket, the photos he had taken, the time he had spent with Kurt-all the while ignoring the pain tightening in his chest.
He continued mapping things out even after the haze of alcohol had lifted; the picture forming made no sense. Finally, even with all the pieces in place, Blaine didn’t understand. How did this happen? Taking another look at the photos spread across his desk, lingering on the look of obsession on Karofksy’s face, Blaine grabbed his gun and checked the chamber. Satisfied at the sight of the bullets he grabbed his coat and left, determined to keep up his promise to Kurt.
***
Blaine burst through the front door without knocking, gun raised and his breaths unnaturally loud in the quiet. Everything was dark; the police must have moved quickly; Finn’s body was gone and if it hadn‘t been for the single officer he had to hide from outside, he wouldn‘t have known anything had happened here. Ears straining for any sign of life, Blaine walked slowly further into the house. Suddenly a floorboard above him creaked and on instinct he raised the gun. Hearing nothing more Blaine made his way slowly to the steps when a cry ripped through the air.
“He made me feel this way! I didn‘t want to but he made me!” Even muffled, Blaine recognized the agony in Karofksy’s voice. Suddenly a single gunshot rang out and he started as though the bullet had bitten into his own flesh.
“Kurt!” The cry was involuntary and stupid but Blaine’s mind couldn’t function beyond the horrifying images it was producing, all of them paling in comparison to the sight that appeared before him as he ran into Kurt’s bedroom, the only room from which warm light was spilling out of.
There, on the floor lay Kurt; his pale skin bruising around his eye from a man’s fist, his hair tangled from someone ripping their fingers through it, his lip still bleeding from the unforgiving smack of the butt of a gun. His pristine white shirt was slowly seeping red where his arm fell in a pool of blood but Blaine couldn’t decipher whose it was because lying next to him was Karofsky, his forehead streaming red from a single wound directly between his eyes.
Looming above them stood Burt, eyes glassy and his arm still outstretched with the gun pointing at the beefy detective’s unmoving body. Blaine couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move, eyes trained on Kurt’s chest, waiting for any sign of movement.
“He had his hands on my boy.” The desperation in Burt’s voice pulled Blaine’s eyes away from Kurt’s still body. Unfathomable pain filled the older man’s features as he turned to look at the private detective. “He had his hands on my boy.” The door to the house slammed open, forcing Blaine into action.
“Give me the gun, Mr. Hummel,” he said, distantly proud of how even his voice was even though he was raging inside. “Let me take the blame for this; it’s okay.” He held out his hand, trembling harder as the footsteps of the patrolman grew louder. “Look, I know you’re the one who hired Karofksy and I get it. You wanted to make sure your son wasn’t getting himself in trouble. But you didn’t do this, this wasn’t your fault.” The steps grew louder. "Give me the gun!”
“Put the gun down!” It’s too late, Blaine thought dismally. Even so he turned, ready to confess to Karofksy’s murder when he heard the thunk of metal on wood. Burt brushed past him as he walked slowly toward the police officer.
“He put his hands on my boy,” was all Burt would say as the officer handcuffed him.
Three weeks later Blaine found himself at the county jail, waiting on one side of a glass window. Suddenly Burt Hummel sat on the other side, eyes sunken and face covered in stubble. He picked up the telephone receiver as though it were almost too much an effort to bear.
“You weren’t in court today,” the older man said in a lifeless tone.
“They said you asked for a fast and speedy trial,” Blaine answered, voice scratchy from disuse and alcohol. He wasn’t drinking as much as he did when his mother died but still almost as much as he was drinking when he first met Kurt. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Burt shrugged - more a roll of a shoulder than the intended gesture. “I know what I did and I know why I did it. Not much more is needed.” Blaine let out an impatient sigh; a short breath through the nose.
“This isn’t going to help Kurt,” he said, voice cracking at the name of the man he loved.
“No, it’s not,” Burt answered, tears filling in his eyes at the mention of his son. Both men grew silent, remembering the sight of Kurt lying prone on the floor of his bedroom. “Only you can do that.”
“How?”
“Avenge him.” Burt leaned forward suddenly, voice full of anger. “Avenge the pain my son was put through.”
“You shot Karofksy already,” Blaine said in a hushed voice, making sure no one overheard this admission of guilt. “What else is there?”
“By making sure no one else goes through what he had to go through,” Burt answered, still impassioned. “By remembering how you loved him.”
They were pretty words, Blaine thought later as he walked out into the rainstorm outside the jail. But it was much easier said than done. More likely he was going to become a worse version of the man he was before Kurt: drunk, bitter and cynical. Only this time he had the added pain of knowing even the purest love could be tainted by the harsh world that surrounded them.
Then he remembered Kurt’s bright smile; the way he cared for Blaine unwavering even as he had to endure Blaine breaking his promise and returning to the bottle. But maybe, Blaine thought, maybe he could do as Burt said. Maybe he could finally be worth the love Kurt had given him.
END
-----
Yes, Kurt's fate is ambiguous (at least, I hope it is). This could change, it could not. It will depend on what I think when I return to this fic later. Due to various reasons I didn't spend as much time on it as I hoped, so I plan on coming back to this after some time has passed and editing, adding, changing, etc. I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!