fic: the light, the heat
Title: the light, the heat
Author: litanyofdreams
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson (with some Sebastian, but not in a romantic sense)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,000
Summary: GLEE AU: In which underage Blaine sneaks into a gay strip club and sees something he likes
Somehow, though, a quick trip to the Lima Bean had turned into Sebastian talking Blaine into going out to Scandals in West Lima, still in his Dalton blazer. Blaine walks into the club, fake ID resting like a smoking gun in his wallet, and can’t concentrate on how a normal Friday had managed to progress into something akin to an episode of Queer as Folk. All of his senses are being drowned in the flashing lights, the smell of booze and sweat and attraction that’s hanging thick in the air.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Author's Note: so I saw this photoset on Tumblr and wrote a short little fic about it!
This isn’t what Blaine was expecting his Friday night to turn into.
When Sebastian asked him out for coffee right after Warbler practice, Blaine had foolishly assumed that it was meant only as an offer of thanks, a way of paying him back for the fact that Blaine spent the entirety of the day’s practice helping Sebastian work on his atrocious dance moves.
Somehow, though, a quick trip to the Lima Bean had turned into Sebastian talking Blaine into going out to Scandals in West Lima, still in his Dalton blazer. Blaine walks into the club, fake ID resting like a smoking gun in his wallet, and can’t concentrate on how a normal Friday had managed to progress into something akin to an episode of Queer as Folk. All of his senses are being drowned in the flashing lights, the smell of booze and sweat and attraction that’s hanging thick in the air.
“I really don’t feel comfortable being here; And I’m still in my uniform,” Blaine says, sticking too close to Sebastian than he’s comfortable with so he can be heard of the thumping bass line of whatever Rihanna song is pouring out of the club’s speakers.
Sebastian settles a hand on Blaine’s lower back and leans close to say, “The bashful school boy thing is totally hot.”
Blaine slides away from Sebastian’s touch, eyes narrow.
“You can’t touch me or talk to me like that, Sebastian, we aren’t together.”
“But this way neither of us are gonna get hit on by some creepy older guy,” Sebastian reasons, pressing close to Blaine’s side once more, “It’s a win-win situation.”
Blaine has no argument for that. As uncomfortable as Sebastian’s attention feels, Blaine can’t deny that it makes sense. He relents and nudges his shoulder into Sebastian’s side. Sebastian takes the hint and slips an arm around Blaine’s waist.
“Let’s dance.”
***
It turns out that Blaine’s instructions that afternoon haven’t stuck with Sebastian at all, and his dancing is still awful. Blaine moves with him as well as he can, overheating under the lights and feeling dizzy with the wandering hands that brush his neck, dance along his thighs.
Just as an older, obviously drunk man is starting to dance purposefully toward Blaine, intentions clear, the music fades and is replaced by an announcer’s booming voice.
“Hello, hello, West Lima! Can I get an ‘amen’ for the weekend?”
Blaine startles as the entire club cheers, raising their respective drinks to the ceiling as if offering a prayer.
“Who’s ready to see some beautiful boys dancing just for you?”
The crowded dance floor goes absolutely wild and Blaine pushes past the people all around him, ignoring Sebastian’s calls of his name, and takes a seat at the bar. He slides off his blazer and hands it to the bartender, asking for a water. Sebastian’s plan be damned, he needs a minute to breathe.
Blaine has never spared a thought to the idea that something like this could exist in his run-down part of the country. The reality of it is heavy and present and just this side of too much. He’s young, though, and had ranted to Wes not even a week ago about being adventurous while he still has the chance. This night might not be what he expected, but Blaine isn’t one to turn down an olive branch when it falls into his lap.
***
Anything else the announcer says is lost on Blaine. He’s almost used to the noise after spending a few minutes away from the dance floor, the din now nothing but a steady buzz all around him. He sips at his water and turns to see that the crowd has moved forward to stand around a raised, darkened stage that Blaine hadn’t noticed. There were people standing in a line across it, barely noticeable in the shadows. Blaine downs the rest of his water in one go and stands, walking purposefully and pushing his way to the front of the crowd.
Spotlights come on one by one, illuminating each dancer. All of them are muscled and tan, undeniably gorgeous even in awful lighting. None of them interest Blaine, though, until the final spotlight hits.
The man is tall, slender, standing with his hands on his hips and grinning at his audience. Blaine takes in the long fingers resting across the man’s hips and his long legs, dark jeans fitted to them like a second-skin and suddenly Blaine understands the meaning of tunnel-vision. Everything else in the club melts away as the other dancers leave the stage and the man speaks.
“Well, quite a crowd tonight,” he says, eyes sharp and focused as they scan his audience.
A man standing right behind Blaine yells out, “You always draw the biggest crowds, Kurt!”
Kurt. Blaine says the name out loud once, quietly, feeling the letters in his mouth.
“Hm, I do, don’t I? How about I show you fine people why that is?”
The people surrounding Blaine cheer and he tries to press closer to the stage, hungry to feel Kurt’s eyes on him.
Loud, jazzy music fills the club as Kurt starts unbuttoning his pale shirt.
“I know this song is traditionally a duet, but I have something of a history of ignoring the traditions,” Kurt says, sly and teasing.
Once the shirt is off, Blaine can’t take is eyes off the smooth planes of Kurt’s chest, wanting to touch and see if Kurt’s skin is as soft as it looks. Kurt runs his hands down his own chest, smiling at the whistles it pulls from the crowd.
In one quick movement, Kurt tugs on the waistband of his jeans and tugs them off, now standing on the stage in nothing but a pair of silver, fringed shorts. Blaine is gaping at Kurt now, partially because Kurt is the most attractive man that he’s ever seen, but also because he didn’t know that break-away jeans even existed and he’s a little impressed.
The crowd goes wild and Kurt points to the back of the stage. On cue, a spotlight falls over a complicated set of bars, something like a solid-metal playground that Blaine gapes at.
“And I can’t do the Charleston, but I’m pretty sure what I have planned instead won’t disappoint,” Kurt says, pulling himself up on the lowest set of bars to do a quick pull-up before leaning sitting on the platform and opening his mouth to sing.
Blaine can’t take his eyes off of Kurt, nothing exists in his world except for Kurt’s calm, clear voice as it rings throughout the small club. The place has horrible acoustics, but the final line of the song rings out and Blaine is pretty sure that nothing could make Kurt’s voice sound anything short of perfect.
“In 50 years or so it’s gonna change, you know; but oh it’s Heaven nowadays!”
Kurt leaps up as the brass section kicks in, shimmying all the way up his body and then grabbing at a higher set of bars, spinning between them as if sliding around a pole and Blaine can’t help it, he’s turned on, mouth hanging open in wonder as the fabric of Kurt’s shorts pull tight around his ass. In half-time with the music, Kurt wraps his legs around the lower bar and hangs himself from them backwards, supported only by his strong calves, thighs pale and thick with muscle, the sturdy legs of a dancer. Blaine counts the knobs in Kurt’s spine, follows the lines of his sides as they slope towards his broad shoulders. Kurt curves his body into a perfect ‘C’, hands gripping next to his legs and lifting his calves from the bar to hang by his arms, facing the crowd with a brilliant smile as the song nears its end.
The muscles in Kurt’s chest are pulled taught as a bow, lean and graceful and Blaine follows them with dark eyes, clapping loudly as he lets go of the bar to land crouched on the stage. For a moment, Kurt’s wandering eyes meet Blaine’s and a spark runs up Blaine’s spine at the heat in Kurt’s gaze, smug and hot and locked tight on Blaine’s face.
***
The rest of the show passes too slowly for Blaine, and after the third mediocre dancer stripping to a Lady Gaga medley, Blaine leaves the crowd to sit at the bar once more. He’s about to order a glass of soda water, needing the burn to help settle back into himself, when a voice behind him cuts in.
“Put whatever he’s having on my tab, please.”
Blaine freezes and then takes a slow breath, turning around.
“Kurt. Um, I. Hello.” He’s a stuttering mess, tripping over consonants and getting tangled up in vowels.
Kurt raises one sharp, thin eyebrow.
“I’m Blaine. Anderson. It’s nice to meet you,” Blaine says, his manners resurfacing like they always do during times of stress. Usually he considers it a defense mechanism, but he’s pretty sure that Kurt isn’t buying it.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Kurt says, his voice smooth and rich like dark chocolate as he crowds up into Blaine’s space, placing a firm hand on Blaine’s thigh.
Not even an hour ago Blaine had snapped at Sebastian for the same forwardness, but Kurt’s looking at him with warmth in his eyes rather than fire and Blaine knows sincere affection when he sees it. The hand on his thigh starts to slide up and oh, Blaine realizes, Kurt is a dancer. In a gay bar that Blaine is in illegally.
“I’m seventeen!” The words push out of him before he’s even really thought to say them and Kurt jumps back from him, staring with huge eyes.
“I don’t, what? What are you even doing here? How did you get in!” Kurt looks horrified, one hand covering his mouth as soon as the words are out.
“My, uh, my classmate dragged me here after rehearsal for our Glee club and I don’t really want to be here, but your show was fantastic! Your voice is amazing, and you look like, I mean you can’t be too much older than me, right?”
They stare at each other for a moment, Blaine’s eyes hopeful and Kurt’s shocked, before Kurt closes his eyes and laughs.
“Um, Kurt?” Blaine asks, starting to worry that maybe Kurt as normal of a guy as Blaine had originally thought.
“Sorry, it’s just, I’m only 18; I work on the weekends to help save up for school, and I never meet guys here that are my age,” Kurt says, chuckling in-between words. Blaine perks up at his explanation, grinning full-out.
“Great, so do you want to get coffee sometime?” Blaine asks, reaching a hand up to mess with curls that have sprung free from the rest of his hair. Kurt watches the movement and smiles, stepping forward once more.
“Actually, I know of this great all-night diner nearby. How about I buy you coffee and take you back home?” Kurt offers, looping his arms loosely around Blaine’s neck.
“Sounds perfect,” Blaine says, leaning back against the bar and letting Kurt’s chest press against his own.
Kurt leans forward with parted lips and Blaine is about to freak out a little at his ridiculously good luck when his phone chimes from the front pocket of his slacks. Blaine pushes Kurt back just enough to fish his phone out and read the message on screen.
From: Sebastian
blaine warbler, where are you?!
Blaine glances at Kurt, still standing close and looking at him with an amused hint to his eyes.
To: Sebastian
found a ride home! have a good night!
Blaine turns off his phone after sending the text and he holds it out to Kurt, who places it in the front pocket of his duffel bag with a smile and says, “For safe keeping.”
He holds out a hand and Blaine takes it, threading their fingers together.
Author: litanyofdreams
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson (with some Sebastian, but not in a romantic sense)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,000
Summary: GLEE AU: In which underage Blaine sneaks into a gay strip club and sees something he likes
Somehow, though, a quick trip to the Lima Bean had turned into Sebastian talking Blaine into going out to Scandals in West Lima, still in his Dalton blazer. Blaine walks into the club, fake ID resting like a smoking gun in his wallet, and can’t concentrate on how a normal Friday had managed to progress into something akin to an episode of Queer as Folk. All of his senses are being drowned in the flashing lights, the smell of booze and sweat and attraction that’s hanging thick in the air.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Author's Note: so I saw this photoset on Tumblr and wrote a short little fic about it!
This isn’t what Blaine was expecting his Friday night to turn into.
When Sebastian asked him out for coffee right after Warbler practice, Blaine had foolishly assumed that it was meant only as an offer of thanks, a way of paying him back for the fact that Blaine spent the entirety of the day’s practice helping Sebastian work on his atrocious dance moves.
Somehow, though, a quick trip to the Lima Bean had turned into Sebastian talking Blaine into going out to Scandals in West Lima, still in his Dalton blazer. Blaine walks into the club, fake ID resting like a smoking gun in his wallet, and can’t concentrate on how a normal Friday had managed to progress into something akin to an episode of Queer as Folk. All of his senses are being drowned in the flashing lights, the smell of booze and sweat and attraction that’s hanging thick in the air.
“I really don’t feel comfortable being here; And I’m still in my uniform,” Blaine says, sticking too close to Sebastian than he’s comfortable with so he can be heard of the thumping bass line of whatever Rihanna song is pouring out of the club’s speakers.
Sebastian settles a hand on Blaine’s lower back and leans close to say, “The bashful school boy thing is totally hot.”
Blaine slides away from Sebastian’s touch, eyes narrow.
“You can’t touch me or talk to me like that, Sebastian, we aren’t together.”
“But this way neither of us are gonna get hit on by some creepy older guy,” Sebastian reasons, pressing close to Blaine’s side once more, “It’s a win-win situation.”
Blaine has no argument for that. As uncomfortable as Sebastian’s attention feels, Blaine can’t deny that it makes sense. He relents and nudges his shoulder into Sebastian’s side. Sebastian takes the hint and slips an arm around Blaine’s waist.
“Let’s dance.”
***
It turns out that Blaine’s instructions that afternoon haven’t stuck with Sebastian at all, and his dancing is still awful. Blaine moves with him as well as he can, overheating under the lights and feeling dizzy with the wandering hands that brush his neck, dance along his thighs.
Just as an older, obviously drunk man is starting to dance purposefully toward Blaine, intentions clear, the music fades and is replaced by an announcer’s booming voice.
“Hello, hello, West Lima! Can I get an ‘amen’ for the weekend?”
Blaine startles as the entire club cheers, raising their respective drinks to the ceiling as if offering a prayer.
“Who’s ready to see some beautiful boys dancing just for you?”
The crowded dance floor goes absolutely wild and Blaine pushes past the people all around him, ignoring Sebastian’s calls of his name, and takes a seat at the bar. He slides off his blazer and hands it to the bartender, asking for a water. Sebastian’s plan be damned, he needs a minute to breathe.
Blaine has never spared a thought to the idea that something like this could exist in his run-down part of the country. The reality of it is heavy and present and just this side of too much. He’s young, though, and had ranted to Wes not even a week ago about being adventurous while he still has the chance. This night might not be what he expected, but Blaine isn’t one to turn down an olive branch when it falls into his lap.
***
Anything else the announcer says is lost on Blaine. He’s almost used to the noise after spending a few minutes away from the dance floor, the din now nothing but a steady buzz all around him. He sips at his water and turns to see that the crowd has moved forward to stand around a raised, darkened stage that Blaine hadn’t noticed. There were people standing in a line across it, barely noticeable in the shadows. Blaine downs the rest of his water in one go and stands, walking purposefully and pushing his way to the front of the crowd.
Spotlights come on one by one, illuminating each dancer. All of them are muscled and tan, undeniably gorgeous even in awful lighting. None of them interest Blaine, though, until the final spotlight hits.
The man is tall, slender, standing with his hands on his hips and grinning at his audience. Blaine takes in the long fingers resting across the man’s hips and his long legs, dark jeans fitted to them like a second-skin and suddenly Blaine understands the meaning of tunnel-vision. Everything else in the club melts away as the other dancers leave the stage and the man speaks.
“Well, quite a crowd tonight,” he says, eyes sharp and focused as they scan his audience.
A man standing right behind Blaine yells out, “You always draw the biggest crowds, Kurt!”
Kurt. Blaine says the name out loud once, quietly, feeling the letters in his mouth.
“Hm, I do, don’t I? How about I show you fine people why that is?”
The people surrounding Blaine cheer and he tries to press closer to the stage, hungry to feel Kurt’s eyes on him.
Loud, jazzy music fills the club as Kurt starts unbuttoning his pale shirt.
“I know this song is traditionally a duet, but I have something of a history of ignoring the traditions,” Kurt says, sly and teasing.
Once the shirt is off, Blaine can’t take is eyes off the smooth planes of Kurt’s chest, wanting to touch and see if Kurt’s skin is as soft as it looks. Kurt runs his hands down his own chest, smiling at the whistles it pulls from the crowd.
In one quick movement, Kurt tugs on the waistband of his jeans and tugs them off, now standing on the stage in nothing but a pair of silver, fringed shorts. Blaine is gaping at Kurt now, partially because Kurt is the most attractive man that he’s ever seen, but also because he didn’t know that break-away jeans even existed and he’s a little impressed.
The crowd goes wild and Kurt points to the back of the stage. On cue, a spotlight falls over a complicated set of bars, something like a solid-metal playground that Blaine gapes at.
“And I can’t do the Charleston, but I’m pretty sure what I have planned instead won’t disappoint,” Kurt says, pulling himself up on the lowest set of bars to do a quick pull-up before leaning sitting on the platform and opening his mouth to sing.
Blaine can’t take his eyes off of Kurt, nothing exists in his world except for Kurt’s calm, clear voice as it rings throughout the small club. The place has horrible acoustics, but the final line of the song rings out and Blaine is pretty sure that nothing could make Kurt’s voice sound anything short of perfect.
“In 50 years or so it’s gonna change, you know; but oh it’s Heaven nowadays!”
Kurt leaps up as the brass section kicks in, shimmying all the way up his body and then grabbing at a higher set of bars, spinning between them as if sliding around a pole and Blaine can’t help it, he’s turned on, mouth hanging open in wonder as the fabric of Kurt’s shorts pull tight around his ass. In half-time with the music, Kurt wraps his legs around the lower bar and hangs himself from them backwards, supported only by his strong calves, thighs pale and thick with muscle, the sturdy legs of a dancer. Blaine counts the knobs in Kurt’s spine, follows the lines of his sides as they slope towards his broad shoulders. Kurt curves his body into a perfect ‘C’, hands gripping next to his legs and lifting his calves from the bar to hang by his arms, facing the crowd with a brilliant smile as the song nears its end.
The muscles in Kurt’s chest are pulled taught as a bow, lean and graceful and Blaine follows them with dark eyes, clapping loudly as he lets go of the bar to land crouched on the stage. For a moment, Kurt’s wandering eyes meet Blaine’s and a spark runs up Blaine’s spine at the heat in Kurt’s gaze, smug and hot and locked tight on Blaine’s face.
***
The rest of the show passes too slowly for Blaine, and after the third mediocre dancer stripping to a Lady Gaga medley, Blaine leaves the crowd to sit at the bar once more. He’s about to order a glass of soda water, needing the burn to help settle back into himself, when a voice behind him cuts in.
“Put whatever he’s having on my tab, please.”
Blaine freezes and then takes a slow breath, turning around.
“Kurt. Um, I. Hello.” He’s a stuttering mess, tripping over consonants and getting tangled up in vowels.
Kurt raises one sharp, thin eyebrow.
“I’m Blaine. Anderson. It’s nice to meet you,” Blaine says, his manners resurfacing like they always do during times of stress. Usually he considers it a defense mechanism, but he’s pretty sure that Kurt isn’t buying it.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Kurt says, his voice smooth and rich like dark chocolate as he crowds up into Blaine’s space, placing a firm hand on Blaine’s thigh.
Not even an hour ago Blaine had snapped at Sebastian for the same forwardness, but Kurt’s looking at him with warmth in his eyes rather than fire and Blaine knows sincere affection when he sees it. The hand on his thigh starts to slide up and oh, Blaine realizes, Kurt is a dancer. In a gay bar that Blaine is in illegally.
“I’m seventeen!” The words push out of him before he’s even really thought to say them and Kurt jumps back from him, staring with huge eyes.
“I don’t, what? What are you even doing here? How did you get in!” Kurt looks horrified, one hand covering his mouth as soon as the words are out.
“My, uh, my classmate dragged me here after rehearsal for our Glee club and I don’t really want to be here, but your show was fantastic! Your voice is amazing, and you look like, I mean you can’t be too much older than me, right?”
They stare at each other for a moment, Blaine’s eyes hopeful and Kurt’s shocked, before Kurt closes his eyes and laughs.
“Um, Kurt?” Blaine asks, starting to worry that maybe Kurt as normal of a guy as Blaine had originally thought.
“Sorry, it’s just, I’m only 18; I work on the weekends to help save up for school, and I never meet guys here that are my age,” Kurt says, chuckling in-between words. Blaine perks up at his explanation, grinning full-out.
“Great, so do you want to get coffee sometime?” Blaine asks, reaching a hand up to mess with curls that have sprung free from the rest of his hair. Kurt watches the movement and smiles, stepping forward once more.
“Actually, I know of this great all-night diner nearby. How about I buy you coffee and take you back home?” Kurt offers, looping his arms loosely around Blaine’s neck.
“Sounds perfect,” Blaine says, leaning back against the bar and letting Kurt’s chest press against his own.
Kurt leans forward with parted lips and Blaine is about to freak out a little at his ridiculously good luck when his phone chimes from the front pocket of his slacks. Blaine pushes Kurt back just enough to fish his phone out and read the message on screen.
From: Sebastian
blaine warbler, where are you?!
Blaine glances at Kurt, still standing close and looking at him with an amused hint to his eyes.
To: Sebastian
found a ride home! have a good night!
Blaine turns off his phone after sending the text and he holds it out to Kurt, who places it in the front pocket of his duffel bag with a smile and says, “For safe keeping.”
He holds out a hand and Blaine takes it, threading their fingers together.