Always Trust a Cat in a Bow-Tie - 2/3
Title : Always Trust a Cat in a Bow-Tie
Genre : romance, humor, fantasy, fluffies
Pairings: Klaine, background late s2 couples
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 5684 - this part
Warnings: AU, Season 1 compliant, Season 2 compliant to 2.05, unwanted kisses in part 2
Summary: This isn't your traditional fairy tale where knights ride stallions, huge lizards breathe fire, and damsels are stuck in towers. This is the 21st century, things have changed. What this is a story about is a boy and a cat. From there, it gets interesting.
Note: Written for the Fairytale AU at the Tumblr AU Friday. Very loosely based off of the Madame d'Aulnoy version of one of my favorite fairytales, The White Cat. This got away from me a bit and is broken into three parts, and will updated once a week until complete. This happened basically because the idea of kitty!Blaine appealed to me and I wanted to bring the story to modern day. Thank you to those who commented!
Note 2: This is mostly canon compliant in season 2 with these exceptions: Kurt is still a Cheerio, NBK did not happen, Kurt never went to Dalton and ND defeated them at Sectionals
Previous Chapter
Always Trust a Cat in a Bow-Tie
Part Deux: Of Unfortunate Happenings and Courage
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson.
He was a kind, charming, dapper type of boy and always had a kind word for someone, even if he was given an unkind word first.
When Blaine was little, he never understood why his mother only talked with one of her two sisters, his Aunt Annie. Everyone always looked uncomfortable at any mention of his Aunt Morgan, so Blaine thought that she must not be a very nice woman. His mother never disagreed so Blaine never questioned his forgotten second aunt beyond that. Blaine was a very trusting boy, you see, and he believed every word his parents told him, even as he got older and the world began to twist into something different altogether from his childhood.
At twelve, Blaine discovered he was different from other little boys-he didn’t think girls had cooties and whenever that one boy from his soccer club smiled at him, he blushed to the tip of his nose. It was terrifying, to be sure, but it was also something he couldn’t deny. So Blaine mustered up every bit of courage he had, because even at that age he knew how important it was to have courage, sat both of his parents down one evening after dinner and told them that he didn’t like girls the way he had always supposed he should, not the way he liked boys. The news was received with mixed reviews: his mother had scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his hair, murmuring how sorry she was that the world would be cruel and she would try her best to shield him from it, but his father had stared at his hands before rubbing them over his face. The disappointment stung and was all too clear.
Even though Blaine’s relationship with his father had taken a turn for the worst, Blaine still maintained his kindness and optimism, bolstered by the acceptance he received from his mother and aunt. He embraced all of what made him different and unique and sang it out whenever he could, even jumping up onto whatever furniture was available, like couches and kitchen tables, when he just couldn’t contain himself any longer. But, I am sorry to tell you this, the happiness and acceptance Blaine received from his loved ones wasn’t enough to shield him forever, and he had dragons of his own that followed him around linoleum hallways with guardians too distracted to really protect anyone.
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson-and if you think he has any relevancy to the white, bow-tied cat of the same name, I’d say you’re following along nicely.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kurt made it a point to visit Rosie’s shop more often after Regionals (which they had won handedly), not just to visit with Blaine he told himself, but that did have a large part to do with it. He forgot how much he loved to listen and sing along to the old records Rosie had in her shop, and having Blaine there beside him, listening to his troubles and dreams quietly, patiently, did more for him than Kurt could describe. It was different confiding to Blaine than it was to his dad, to Carole, or to his friends. Anything he confided to his dad would inevitably end up being something Burt Hummel had to fix; Kurt couldn’t tell him about Karofsky or the bullying because his dad did so much for him already, he couldn’t worry him like that, not after his heart attack. Carole was about the same and Kurt didn’t want to trouble her with anymore of his problems when she had already done so much by just accepting him. His friends couldn’t see what was happening regardless-and in some ways, it was better that way. He knew he’d hate the pity that would come from them.
Blaine though, was a cat and therefore talking to him was not nearly as complicated as talking to anyone else. He listened and curled up beside him, purring and nudging affectionately whenever Kurt told him about his day, the good and especially the bad, and only offered solidarity and comfort. Kurt knew that Blaine was smarter than your average house-cat, but at the end of the day, he was still a cat and as such was easier to talk to because there was only so much he could understand. And Blaine, true to form, proved the perfect listener, and every visit with Blaine (and Rosie, because otherwise he was drifting into crazy-cat-person territory at too young an age) left Kurt feeling lighter, braver, and ready to face the next day. Annabelle came in a few times to check up on Blaine, but for the most part, Kurt found himself the adopted owner for the cat-a role he didn’t mind at all.
Kurt was busy doing some calculus homework (a subject he loathed with the passion of a thousand ill-tempered divas) when things changed again, Blaine napping contently against his leg on their bench in the little alcove outside the record store. It was starting to get a little too warm to keep doing this, what with all his layers which he admitted were multiple, but Kurt decided he could brave the humidity a little longer. Blaine had no problem with this decision and was purring softly in his sleep, his little paws twitching ever so often that told Kurt he was deep in a dream. Kurt reached over the stroke his belly automatically and tried to fathom what the hell he was looking at and supped to make sense of (seriously, why did calculus decide that letters made better numbers than actual numbers?). He was deep in thought and at first, didn’t register the voice that taunted him mercilessly at school each day; it wasn’t until David Karofsky let out a loud, raucous sounding laugh that was familiar enough for Kurt’s brain to catch up with his hearing.
His eyes darted up quicker than a mongoose and he felt a sharp twinge at the back of his neck at the motion. He could see Karofsky on the opposite side of the park from his angle, but he was fairly certain that he was decently shielded from view with the bench angled behind the wall. It shamed him a little at how relieved that fact made him feel and he felt the all too familiar spike of self-loathing shoot through him that he let Karofsky get under his skin. Karofsky was walking with one of the guys from the hockey team, the one who thought mullets were making a comeback in a bad way, and whatever they were talking about was more engrossing than looking around for fellow McKinley students. He watched them intently until the wandered past the park, no doubt heading towards the sports memorabilia shop Kurt knew was on the other side of the road, and only relaxed once he heard their voices fade away. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew they could recognize his car if they turned down this street and he had enough nightmares about what Karofsky could potentially do with all his hatred if they met, alone, outside of school.
Blaine meowed up at him and Kurt jolted a little, forgetting that he’d had a companion by him the whole time; he let out a shaky, deprecating laugh and frowned when he saw that his fingers were fisted tightly in Blaine’s fur. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Blaine, I didn’t mean-” Kurt detangled his fingers and smoothed them across the rumpled fur.
Blaine blinked up at him, hazel eyes full of too much worry for a cat, and didn’t protest or hiss that Kurt had unwittingly hurt him. Kurt slumped down against the back of the bench, his head thunking painfully against the vine-covered wall; he felt tears of stress and frustrations (and disgust) start to build and he closed his eyes in an attempt to block it all out. He hated feeling like this, like he was helpless to the big, lumbering jackass who was bigger than him and still made him feel even smaller because he could. He felt less himself whenever Karofsky was around and with his dad’s voice echoing in his head that nobody pushed the Hummels around, he felt he was failing his dad too. Because Karofsky was pushing him around-and Kurt couldn’t help feeling that he was letting him and he’d lost sight of how to stop it.
Blaine nudged at his hand and lifted himself up by two paws on top of Kurt’s thigh, his meow soft and almost mournful; Kurt blinked back tears and lifted his hand to pet him slowly. “I hate that I let him get to me like this, reduce me to a sniveling mess-I bet my skin’s all splotchy now.”
Blaine meowed as if to say that it didn’t matter; Kurt huffed a breath at how desperate he was getting if he was making up emotions and phrases in a cat’s meow. “I think I need to go home-thanks for sitting with me, Mr. Blaine. It was a pleasure as always.”
He smiled and scratched Blaine’s ears; he didn’t know why the urge came over him, but the next thing he knew, he was leaning down to give the cat a soft kiss on top of his head. He smiled again and gathered up his homework, heading back to his car with a small wave back to Blaine, then another wave to Rosie through her window.
Blaine’s tail twitched and he stared after Kurt’s car until it was gone from sight. And then for a long time after.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Have you ever let a situation get so out of your control that you have no idea how to grab hold of it again? Let your fear of something (or someone) grow so large that you forget who you are whenever that fear confronts you? Bottle everything up inside because you think that somehow facing ‘It’ on your own somehow makes up for the fact you are afraid or out of control in the first place? If you have ever felt any of these things, then you can understand how Kurt felt leading up to the moment we just witnessed. Kurt Hummel was a young man very used to control in his life-control had been taken from him once, along with his mother, and he vowed ever since then to not lose it again. It ate at him every day that he had no control over the Karofsky situation, because as much as he told his friends, his teachers, his family and himself that he could handle everything, he knew in the corners of his heart he most certainly could not.
I wish I could tell you that Kurt was able to regain his control without pain, without strife, and certainly without scared, lashing dragons backed into corners where they can do the most damage.
I cannot though. But, what I can tell you is that sometimes, things, even the horrible kind, happen for a reason. And when Kurt finally had enough of Karofsky, finally reached a breaking point and lashed back with anger and hurtful words, what happened next was horrible, but most definitely for a reason.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You’re nothing but a scared little boy who can’t handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!
And then…the world narrows down to a pair of lips ungainly and unwanted on his-and he can’t breathe. It lasts for too long and there are hands, big and biting, hold his face. When it finally ends, he can’t take in the fear in the pair of eyes looking down at him, how pale he looks, or anything else because he just took something of Kurt’s and it burns a little in his throat. He leans back in-oh God-and then his body is reacting and he’s away from him and slamming his hands, hard, into the lockers. He can’t move and he can’t…
Kurt hates being out of control.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Blaine sat in the window of Rosie’s store and waited for Kurt. He waited, and waited, and then he waited some more because, frankly, as a cat he found he had surprisingly little else to do. Rosie tried to get him to play with the stupid mouse she’d bought the other day, (and yes it was stupid and not at all tempting) but he ignored her attempts and kept waiting for Kurt to walk by, to wave at him with the smile he reserved for Blaine then come inside. He never did though, and then there was Annabelle to take him back home for the night; he growled at her when she tried to pick him up, which earned him a swat on the head.
“The poor thing-he just waited for Kurt to come all day. He’s really attached to that boy.”
Annabelle smiled down at Blaine as they left the store. “So I’ve heard-he’s a good kid and cats are good judges of character. See you tomorrow, Rosie!”
Annabelle left the door open for Blaine to exit and then they started the trek back up to her car; her arms crossed over her stomach and she kept looking down at him, he could tell out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was coming and he really didn’t want to hear it, not again.
“Blaine, I know you really like this boy-”
Like did not begin to cover it. What Blaine felt when he was with Kurt was-there weren’t words. All he could think whenever Kurt was near was how much he wanted to help him, how wonderful his voice was and his sense of humor was, how edgy his style was, and wonder what the hell color his eyes must be; he couldn’t tell, but he knew they had to be gorgeous. Kurt was everything Blaine always hoped for but had given up on and here he was, here he was and he needed Blaine, needed his help. He wanted to tell him how he knew exactly what Kurt was going through, knew exactly what it felt like to be followed around by taunting words and hard shoves. He wanted to tell him how wonderful he was because Blaine had a feeling Kurt didn’t hear it enough from people aside from his family (and Blaine knew firsthand how those words, no matter how true, were always counted last).
No-‘like’ didn’t even come close to what he felt for Kurt. And he knew how terrifying that was, how dangerous it was for him to let Kurt get to close. Kurt had too many troubles of his own to contend with, he didn’t need troubles as dangerous as Blaine’s to add to the list.
“-but you need to be careful, Blaine. You’ve done one good deed for him but we don’t know how much power that may have even had.” Blaine glared as much as he could and she held up her hands apologetically. “I just-I don’t want you to get your hopes up too soon. Remember love, you’re still a cat.”
Blaine hissed and flattened his ears to his skull; as if he could ever forget that teensy little detail. They reached Annabelle’s car and she opened the passenger door for Blaine, and he hopped up into the seat without preamble. He plopped down moodily into a tight loaf position, as Annabelle was inclined to call it (because you look like a kitty-loaf of bread, Blaine!), and tucked his head down towards his paws. Annabelle climbed in and drove them home. He hated that she always had to remind him to not get too worked up and to not get to ahead of themselves-he hated is because she was right. He knew it, deep down, but whenever he was near Kurt all he could think about was how maybe everything that had happened, the dance, his other aunt, the curse had been so he could find Kurt.
He didn’t know what kept him from the shop today and he hoped it wasn’t anything too bad, but he just had a feeling. And that feeling worried him.
He hoped Kurt visited the store tomorrow.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson who learned early on that he was different for reasons apart from being gay.
No one talked about his Aunt Morgan and his mother and Aunt Annie would make weird sounds and smells in their kitchen whenever Aunt Annie visited. His father looked like he was constantly trying to ignore what was happening and shield Blaine as well, but his gaze would still drift to that kitchen door. Blaine always thought it was funny, that his father would say that they had nothing to do with his mother’s ‘business’ but couldn’t help trying to sneak a peek himself. When he asked his mother about it late at night when she tucked him in, away from his father’s disapproving eyes, she would smile and whisper that she was doing magic; Blaine always whined and told her to tell him the truth.
Little did he know, that his mother had been telling him the truth.
Everything sort of came out, so to speak, when he was fourteen and woke up in a hospital all black and blue from a high school Sadie Hawkins dance. He’d been brave and hadn’t let all the jerks and ignorant jackasses at school dictate him or his actions; he’d asked out a friend, the only other out boy at school, to the dance and had felt untouchable. He knew he was doing the right thing and would show everyone there that there wasn’t anything wrong with him or with Danny. And, for most of night, he’d been right-up until three large boys with something to prove showed up with baseball bats and fists. He woke up hurt and bandaged and more than a little bit broken. He woke up listening to his parents yelling at each other.
There is nothing a broken young man needs less than the two people who need to support him yelling at one another.
The reason why I must tell you this sad snippet of Blaine Anderson’s life is to explain what happened next. Amidst all the arguing and crying, a woman walked into the room, a woman who had looked familiar and unknown at the same time. She looked at him and then everything around him seemed to stop, except her. She continued to come forward until she was sitting on his bed, one hand, with nails black and lacquered, reaching across to touch his own. She introduced herself as his Aunt Morgan (though she called herself Morgana, quick to reassure Blaine that she wasn’t that Morgana mind you) and told him that he need only ask and she would make those who had hurt him pay. He was blood and that was important, she told him; hurt and broken, Blaine listened to her because she listened to him.
Without thinking of the consequences and full of hot, white anger, he agreed to his aunt’s offer, and tried to tell himself her conniving smile was for the justice she would bring him.
The three boys who had hurt Blaine did pay as his aunt had promised, but all magic came at a price and that was what Blaine had agreed to. Back at home and talking about Dalton Academy with his parents, his Aunt Annie had burst through the door with a local paper in hand, eyes wide and hair wild. She showed Blaine and his family the story of the three boys who had attacked, a story that detailed how each of the boys had disappeared from their very beds, if their parents could be believed. She rounded on Blaine and demanded if anyone other than herself and his parents had visited-he answered honestly and after the shocked gasps subsided, black smoke trickled into the house until everything was covered.
When Blaine came to, the world was much bigger than he remembered and his parents nowhere to be found.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kurt didn’t remember driving home after the confrontation with Karofsky, but he did remember sitting on his bed and trying to piece himself back together. He knew that things could have gone much worse-but that didn’t mean what had happened was any less horrible. Everything started to make sense as he sat in his room, curled up on his bed with Beatles playing in the background-Karofsky’s focus, the way his eyes would linger on him after all the other jocks had left, and why he went out of his way to bully Kurt. It was horrifying to think about and he wished he was still ignorant about David Karofsky-he barely touched his dinner that night.
The next day, Karofsky had cornered him by his locker and threatened to kill him if he told anyone what happened-and Kurt believed him. He knew the fear driving Karofsky all too well and even though Mr. Schue had taken him to Figgins after finding him slumped in the wake of Karofsky’s threat, he had no idea what to do. He didn’t believe in outing but-but Karofsky meant it, he did, and Kurt didn’t-he left the office with slumped shoulders and a secret he didn’t want locked up inside his head. His dad knew something was wrong and was especially persistent at dinner, but Kurt couldn’t work up the will to tell him; Karofsky’s threat hung heavy around his ears and in the end his dad was forced to accept a mumbled ‘it’s nothing, just stress’ with only a heavy sigh before going back to his carrots.
The next Friday, he’d driven on auto-pilot to Rosie’s again-he needed a distraction from everything. His dad kept asking after him and his friends had finally started to notice something was wrong between him and Karofsky (a little too late, he thought bitterly). The effort it took to keep everything to himself was getting ridiculous, so after school on Friday, he skipped Glee practice and drove to Rosie’s. The store was a little busier than usual, but it was still relaxing to step through the door and lose himself in music. It also helped that only moments after arriving at the store, he heard a pawing at the door and turned to spot Blaine meowing for him, still wearing the red and yellow polka-dotted bow-tie. He let Blaine in and scooped him up, pressing his face into the cat’s downy-soft neck; Blaine didn’t fight his hold one bit.
“It is really good to see you, Mr. Blaine. I’m sorry I haven’t been around it’s just-things are complicated.” Blaine meowed softly and nudged at his chin. Kurt giggled a little and set Blaine back down, motioning silently towards their little alcove outside. Blaine’s tailed twitched and he headed towards the door, looking back at Kurt, clearly beckoning him to follow. Kurt shook his head and followed after, collapsing down on the white bench moments later. Blaine hopped up beside him and crawled until he was perched on Kurt’s lap, blinking up at him as if to say, ‘go ahead.’ And, because Kurt didn’t know who else to talk to but knowing he needed to get it out before the secret turned to poison and choked him, he finally broke down.
He would’ve felt embarrassed if anyone but a cat was watching him choke out words around his sobs, but it was the only way he could get out everything that had happened. He told Blaine about Karofsky that day and how breaking his phone while he’d been texting Mercedes had been the last straw. How he’d followed him into the lockers and yelled and yelled and yelled at him until Karofsky was yelling back, up close and fists shaking. How quicker than Kurt could register, Karofsky had leaned in and kissed him, how he’d tried to lean in again, as if Kurt had somehow welcomed the first one. The threat and how Kurt couldn’t say anything until he was just choking out sounds until his sobs dried out. Through it all Blaine watched him; Kurt could feel his claws digging into his leg in what could’ve been anger and he smoothed a hand down Blaine’s back to try and calm him. He was probably just reacting to Kurt’s stress-animals did that, he remembered reading somewhere.
His situation didn’t magically fix itself just because Kurt confessed things to a cat; Karofsky had still threatened him and Kurt was saddled with his secret sexuality, his teachers were still useless, and his dad was still worried about him. But, he did feel slightly better from airing everything out, letting someone else hear him, even if that someone was a cat. He wiped at his eyes and dug around in his bag for a handkerchief to dab at his face and nose; he took a couple deep breaths and glanced back down at Blaine, who was still staring at him with his strange intensity. Kurt huffed a little grin and tickled the underside of Blaine’s chin.
“Thanks for, I don’t know, not running away when I started blubbering?” Blaine looked to shake his head and Kurt tickled a little harder under the bow-tie collar. “I wish I knew what to do-I suppose the obvious thing is to tell someone but, but no one knows what’s going on in his head, and I can’t tell them why he threatened to-I just can’t do that to him.”
Blaine swatted at his arm, claws out a little and Kurt frowned down at the cat before shoving him back onto the bench. “Quit that, I can’t! What they would do to him…well, it’ll make what they did to me-it’ll be so much worse. I just don’t know what to do.”
Blaine stared at him for a few moments more before growling a little and hopping off the bench, darting around the wall at a sprint. Kurt watched him go long after he was gone and sighed a little, sad that he’d left, but honestly, Blaine was a cat, he probably just got bored with Kurt’s woes and wanted to be around people who weren’t so depressing and pathetic. He dithered on the bench for a little bit, trying to decide whether he wanted to go back into the shop or just head home. He really didn’t need anything from Rosie’s, and his dad was probably worried enough about him anyway, so he gathered up his things and headed back towards his car, face drawn and exhausted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Blaine?”
I need you to write something.
“I don’t think that’s-”
Just do it! Please!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kurt was shutting the passenger side door and heading over to the driver’s side when he spotted Blaine sprinting out of Annabelle’s shop, something white clutched in his mouth. Kurt watched him as he sprinted past the record store, into the alcove, looked around with an increasingly puffed up tail, before he spotted Kurt at his car. Kurt stared, completely confused as to what he was witnessing, as Blaine bounded across the street towards him, almost skidding to a stop at his feet, his little chest heaving with effort. Blaine meowed, muffled by the white thing in his mouth, and spat it out onto the ground; he pushed it towards Kurt with one paw, hazel eyes blinking up at him imploringly. Kurt knelt down and took what he could see was a piece of paper into his shaky hands and uncurled it to see what was on it. It was a single word.
Courage.
Kurt stared and stared at the word and then lifted his eyes to stare at Blaine, who was watching him with more intelligence, more compassion and more, Kurt could barely understand it, more affection than a cat could possibly possess. He swallowed and tried to find words of his own, but all he could was stare back down at the word Blaine had given him-this wasn’t real, things like this didn’t happen outside of Japanese cartoons and movies. And yet-Blaine’s eyes said that they could. “Can-can you understand me?”
Blaine blinked and then dipped his head forward in an unmistakable nod. Kurt let out a shaky breath and covered his mouth with his hand, the paper pressing up against his jaw a little. Blaine looked down and his tail was swishing back and forth quickly; Kurt knew that meant he was worried, agitated. Scared. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from getting too high or too hysterical. “Have you-did you always-are you really a cat?”
Blaine meowed softly and shook his head, looking back up at Kurt with sad, guilt-ridden eyes. Kurt laughed, high and brittle and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m going insane, that’s it, the stress has finally gotten to me and I’m imagining a cat talking to me.”
Blaine meowed again, more insistent and Kurt flashed him a helpless smile; Blaine came forward after a little hesitation and then nudged Kurt’s hand on the ground, his eyes casting upwards every now and then in apology and begging Kurt to believe him. Kurt shook his head, not knowing what to say, when he heard a woman call his name from the other side of the street. He looked up with wet, wide eyes and spotted Annabelle’s quick, purposeful strides; he quickly got to his feet and blinked at her as she came to a stop in front of him. She looked down at Blaine, then to Kurt, and finally at the paper crumpled up in his hand; she sighed and gave them both a lopsided smile.
“Well, it’s a good sign you didn’t run away screaming, Kurt Hummel. Why don’t we go inside my shop and have a little chat, mm? Catch you up to speed.”
“Chat? About what?” Kurt asked a little breathlessly; he felt Blaine rubbing against his calf and he wondered why that still felt comforting, even though he apparently wasn’t really a cat and should be weird if a person trapped as a cat was rubbing against his leg.
Annabelle arched her brow and pointedly motioned her chin down at Blaine. “Well, to talk about my nephew of course. I figured a discussion of Blaine Anderson and how he came to be a cat, and what you’re potential part in helping him change back to normal, is best left for indoors, don’t you think?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson who was gay, had two aunts, and was now a cat-and he needed Kurt Hummel to become human again.
Why did he need Kurt Hummel, you may ask? Well, that is the question, isn’t it? He needed Kurt Hummel for a multitude of reasons, many of which I’m sure his Aunt Annabelle, called Annie when she was wont to feel a little younger, will explain in due time. Really though, there’s only one reason you need to satisfy your curiosity. And that reason, most simply, is love, a most powerful thing in any story and especially so here.
But, it may take them awhile yet to come to that reason; just a little more patience, we’re more than half way through the woods and have just one more path before we see the dawn.
Next Chapter
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Comments are adored! Only one more to go!
Genre : romance, humor, fantasy, fluffies
Pairings: Klaine, background late s2 couples
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 5684 - this part
Warnings: AU, Season 1 compliant, Season 2 compliant to 2.05, unwanted kisses in part 2
Summary: This isn't your traditional fairy tale where knights ride stallions, huge lizards breathe fire, and damsels are stuck in towers. This is the 21st century, things have changed. What this is a story about is a boy and a cat. From there, it gets interesting.
Note: Written for the Fairytale AU at the Tumblr AU Friday. Very loosely based off of the Madame d'Aulnoy version of one of my favorite fairytales, The White Cat. This got away from me a bit and is broken into three parts, and will updated once a week until complete. This happened basically because the idea of kitty!Blaine appealed to me and I wanted to bring the story to modern day. Thank you to those who commented!
Note 2: This is mostly canon compliant in season 2 with these exceptions: Kurt is still a Cheerio, NBK did not happen, Kurt never went to Dalton and ND defeated them at Sectionals
Previous Chapter
Always Trust a Cat in a Bow-Tie
Part Deux: Of Unfortunate Happenings and Courage
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson.
He was a kind, charming, dapper type of boy and always had a kind word for someone, even if he was given an unkind word first.
When Blaine was little, he never understood why his mother only talked with one of her two sisters, his Aunt Annie. Everyone always looked uncomfortable at any mention of his Aunt Morgan, so Blaine thought that she must not be a very nice woman. His mother never disagreed so Blaine never questioned his forgotten second aunt beyond that. Blaine was a very trusting boy, you see, and he believed every word his parents told him, even as he got older and the world began to twist into something different altogether from his childhood.
At twelve, Blaine discovered he was different from other little boys-he didn’t think girls had cooties and whenever that one boy from his soccer club smiled at him, he blushed to the tip of his nose. It was terrifying, to be sure, but it was also something he couldn’t deny. So Blaine mustered up every bit of courage he had, because even at that age he knew how important it was to have courage, sat both of his parents down one evening after dinner and told them that he didn’t like girls the way he had always supposed he should, not the way he liked boys. The news was received with mixed reviews: his mother had scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his hair, murmuring how sorry she was that the world would be cruel and she would try her best to shield him from it, but his father had stared at his hands before rubbing them over his face. The disappointment stung and was all too clear.
Even though Blaine’s relationship with his father had taken a turn for the worst, Blaine still maintained his kindness and optimism, bolstered by the acceptance he received from his mother and aunt. He embraced all of what made him different and unique and sang it out whenever he could, even jumping up onto whatever furniture was available, like couches and kitchen tables, when he just couldn’t contain himself any longer. But, I am sorry to tell you this, the happiness and acceptance Blaine received from his loved ones wasn’t enough to shield him forever, and he had dragons of his own that followed him around linoleum hallways with guardians too distracted to really protect anyone.
There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson-and if you think he has any relevancy to the white, bow-tied cat of the same name, I’d say you’re following along nicely.
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Kurt made it a point to visit Rosie’s shop more often after Regionals (which they had won handedly), not just to visit with Blaine he told himself, but that did have a large part to do with it. He forgot how much he loved to listen and sing along to the old records Rosie had in her shop, and having Blaine there beside him, listening to his troubles and dreams quietly, patiently, did more for him than Kurt could describe. It was different confiding to Blaine than it was to his dad, to Carole, or to his friends. Anything he confided to his dad would inevitably end up being something Burt Hummel had to fix; Kurt couldn’t tell him about Karofsky or the bullying because his dad did so much for him already, he couldn’t worry him like that, not after his heart attack. Carole was about the same and Kurt didn’t want to trouble her with anymore of his problems when she had already done so much by just accepting him. His friends couldn’t see what was happening regardless-and in some ways, it was better that way. He knew he’d hate the pity that would come from them.
Blaine though, was a cat and therefore talking to him was not nearly as complicated as talking to anyone else. He listened and curled up beside him, purring and nudging affectionately whenever Kurt told him about his day, the good and especially the bad, and only offered solidarity and comfort. Kurt knew that Blaine was smarter than your average house-cat, but at the end of the day, he was still a cat and as such was easier to talk to because there was only so much he could understand. And Blaine, true to form, proved the perfect listener, and every visit with Blaine (and Rosie, because otherwise he was drifting into crazy-cat-person territory at too young an age) left Kurt feeling lighter, braver, and ready to face the next day. Annabelle came in a few times to check up on Blaine, but for the most part, Kurt found himself the adopted owner for the cat-a role he didn’t mind at all.
Kurt was busy doing some calculus homework (a subject he loathed with the passion of a thousand ill-tempered divas) when things changed again, Blaine napping contently against his leg on their bench in the little alcove outside the record store. It was starting to get a little too warm to keep doing this, what with all his layers which he admitted were multiple, but Kurt decided he could brave the humidity a little longer. Blaine had no problem with this decision and was purring softly in his sleep, his little paws twitching ever so often that told Kurt he was deep in a dream. Kurt reached over the stroke his belly automatically and tried to fathom what the hell he was looking at and supped to make sense of (seriously, why did calculus decide that letters made better numbers than actual numbers?). He was deep in thought and at first, didn’t register the voice that taunted him mercilessly at school each day; it wasn’t until David Karofsky let out a loud, raucous sounding laugh that was familiar enough for Kurt’s brain to catch up with his hearing.
His eyes darted up quicker than a mongoose and he felt a sharp twinge at the back of his neck at the motion. He could see Karofsky on the opposite side of the park from his angle, but he was fairly certain that he was decently shielded from view with the bench angled behind the wall. It shamed him a little at how relieved that fact made him feel and he felt the all too familiar spike of self-loathing shoot through him that he let Karofsky get under his skin. Karofsky was walking with one of the guys from the hockey team, the one who thought mullets were making a comeback in a bad way, and whatever they were talking about was more engrossing than looking around for fellow McKinley students. He watched them intently until the wandered past the park, no doubt heading towards the sports memorabilia shop Kurt knew was on the other side of the road, and only relaxed once he heard their voices fade away. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew they could recognize his car if they turned down this street and he had enough nightmares about what Karofsky could potentially do with all his hatred if they met, alone, outside of school.
Blaine meowed up at him and Kurt jolted a little, forgetting that he’d had a companion by him the whole time; he let out a shaky, deprecating laugh and frowned when he saw that his fingers were fisted tightly in Blaine’s fur. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Blaine, I didn’t mean-” Kurt detangled his fingers and smoothed them across the rumpled fur.
Blaine blinked up at him, hazel eyes full of too much worry for a cat, and didn’t protest or hiss that Kurt had unwittingly hurt him. Kurt slumped down against the back of the bench, his head thunking painfully against the vine-covered wall; he felt tears of stress and frustrations (and disgust) start to build and he closed his eyes in an attempt to block it all out. He hated feeling like this, like he was helpless to the big, lumbering jackass who was bigger than him and still made him feel even smaller because he could. He felt less himself whenever Karofsky was around and with his dad’s voice echoing in his head that nobody pushed the Hummels around, he felt he was failing his dad too. Because Karofsky was pushing him around-and Kurt couldn’t help feeling that he was letting him and he’d lost sight of how to stop it.
Blaine nudged at his hand and lifted himself up by two paws on top of Kurt’s thigh, his meow soft and almost mournful; Kurt blinked back tears and lifted his hand to pet him slowly. “I hate that I let him get to me like this, reduce me to a sniveling mess-I bet my skin’s all splotchy now.”
Blaine meowed as if to say that it didn’t matter; Kurt huffed a breath at how desperate he was getting if he was making up emotions and phrases in a cat’s meow. “I think I need to go home-thanks for sitting with me, Mr. Blaine. It was a pleasure as always.”
He smiled and scratched Blaine’s ears; he didn’t know why the urge came over him, but the next thing he knew, he was leaning down to give the cat a soft kiss on top of his head. He smiled again and gathered up his homework, heading back to his car with a small wave back to Blaine, then another wave to Rosie through her window.
Blaine’s tail twitched and he stared after Kurt’s car until it was gone from sight. And then for a long time after.
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Have you ever let a situation get so out of your control that you have no idea how to grab hold of it again? Let your fear of something (or someone) grow so large that you forget who you are whenever that fear confronts you? Bottle everything up inside because you think that somehow facing ‘It’ on your own somehow makes up for the fact you are afraid or out of control in the first place? If you have ever felt any of these things, then you can understand how Kurt felt leading up to the moment we just witnessed. Kurt Hummel was a young man very used to control in his life-control had been taken from him once, along with his mother, and he vowed ever since then to not lose it again. It ate at him every day that he had no control over the Karofsky situation, because as much as he told his friends, his teachers, his family and himself that he could handle everything, he knew in the corners of his heart he most certainly could not.
I wish I could tell you that Kurt was able to regain his control without pain, without strife, and certainly without scared, lashing dragons backed into corners where they can do the most damage.
I cannot though. But, what I can tell you is that sometimes, things, even the horrible kind, happen for a reason. And when Kurt finally had enough of Karofsky, finally reached a breaking point and lashed back with anger and hurtful words, what happened next was horrible, but most definitely for a reason.
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You’re nothing but a scared little boy who can’t handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!
And then…the world narrows down to a pair of lips ungainly and unwanted on his-and he can’t breathe. It lasts for too long and there are hands, big and biting, hold his face. When it finally ends, he can’t take in the fear in the pair of eyes looking down at him, how pale he looks, or anything else because he just took something of Kurt’s and it burns a little in his throat. He leans back in-oh God-and then his body is reacting and he’s away from him and slamming his hands, hard, into the lockers. He can’t move and he can’t…
Kurt hates being out of control.
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Blaine sat in the window of Rosie’s store and waited for Kurt. He waited, and waited, and then he waited some more because, frankly, as a cat he found he had surprisingly little else to do. Rosie tried to get him to play with the stupid mouse she’d bought the other day, (and yes it was stupid and not at all tempting) but he ignored her attempts and kept waiting for Kurt to walk by, to wave at him with the smile he reserved for Blaine then come inside. He never did though, and then there was Annabelle to take him back home for the night; he growled at her when she tried to pick him up, which earned him a swat on the head.
“The poor thing-he just waited for Kurt to come all day. He’s really attached to that boy.”
Annabelle smiled down at Blaine as they left the store. “So I’ve heard-he’s a good kid and cats are good judges of character. See you tomorrow, Rosie!”
Annabelle left the door open for Blaine to exit and then they started the trek back up to her car; her arms crossed over her stomach and she kept looking down at him, he could tell out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was coming and he really didn’t want to hear it, not again.
“Blaine, I know you really like this boy-”
Like did not begin to cover it. What Blaine felt when he was with Kurt was-there weren’t words. All he could think whenever Kurt was near was how much he wanted to help him, how wonderful his voice was and his sense of humor was, how edgy his style was, and wonder what the hell color his eyes must be; he couldn’t tell, but he knew they had to be gorgeous. Kurt was everything Blaine always hoped for but had given up on and here he was, here he was and he needed Blaine, needed his help. He wanted to tell him how he knew exactly what Kurt was going through, knew exactly what it felt like to be followed around by taunting words and hard shoves. He wanted to tell him how wonderful he was because Blaine had a feeling Kurt didn’t hear it enough from people aside from his family (and Blaine knew firsthand how those words, no matter how true, were always counted last).
No-‘like’ didn’t even come close to what he felt for Kurt. And he knew how terrifying that was, how dangerous it was for him to let Kurt get to close. Kurt had too many troubles of his own to contend with, he didn’t need troubles as dangerous as Blaine’s to add to the list.
“-but you need to be careful, Blaine. You’ve done one good deed for him but we don’t know how much power that may have even had.” Blaine glared as much as he could and she held up her hands apologetically. “I just-I don’t want you to get your hopes up too soon. Remember love, you’re still a cat.”
Blaine hissed and flattened his ears to his skull; as if he could ever forget that teensy little detail. They reached Annabelle’s car and she opened the passenger door for Blaine, and he hopped up into the seat without preamble. He plopped down moodily into a tight loaf position, as Annabelle was inclined to call it (because you look like a kitty-loaf of bread, Blaine!), and tucked his head down towards his paws. Annabelle climbed in and drove them home. He hated that she always had to remind him to not get too worked up and to not get to ahead of themselves-he hated is because she was right. He knew it, deep down, but whenever he was near Kurt all he could think about was how maybe everything that had happened, the dance, his other aunt, the curse had been so he could find Kurt.
He didn’t know what kept him from the shop today and he hoped it wasn’t anything too bad, but he just had a feeling. And that feeling worried him.
He hoped Kurt visited the store tomorrow.
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There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson who learned early on that he was different for reasons apart from being gay.
No one talked about his Aunt Morgan and his mother and Aunt Annie would make weird sounds and smells in their kitchen whenever Aunt Annie visited. His father looked like he was constantly trying to ignore what was happening and shield Blaine as well, but his gaze would still drift to that kitchen door. Blaine always thought it was funny, that his father would say that they had nothing to do with his mother’s ‘business’ but couldn’t help trying to sneak a peek himself. When he asked his mother about it late at night when she tucked him in, away from his father’s disapproving eyes, she would smile and whisper that she was doing magic; Blaine always whined and told her to tell him the truth.
Little did he know, that his mother had been telling him the truth.
Everything sort of came out, so to speak, when he was fourteen and woke up in a hospital all black and blue from a high school Sadie Hawkins dance. He’d been brave and hadn’t let all the jerks and ignorant jackasses at school dictate him or his actions; he’d asked out a friend, the only other out boy at school, to the dance and had felt untouchable. He knew he was doing the right thing and would show everyone there that there wasn’t anything wrong with him or with Danny. And, for most of night, he’d been right-up until three large boys with something to prove showed up with baseball bats and fists. He woke up hurt and bandaged and more than a little bit broken. He woke up listening to his parents yelling at each other.
There is nothing a broken young man needs less than the two people who need to support him yelling at one another.
The reason why I must tell you this sad snippet of Blaine Anderson’s life is to explain what happened next. Amidst all the arguing and crying, a woman walked into the room, a woman who had looked familiar and unknown at the same time. She looked at him and then everything around him seemed to stop, except her. She continued to come forward until she was sitting on his bed, one hand, with nails black and lacquered, reaching across to touch his own. She introduced herself as his Aunt Morgan (though she called herself Morgana, quick to reassure Blaine that she wasn’t that Morgana mind you) and told him that he need only ask and she would make those who had hurt him pay. He was blood and that was important, she told him; hurt and broken, Blaine listened to her because she listened to him.
Without thinking of the consequences and full of hot, white anger, he agreed to his aunt’s offer, and tried to tell himself her conniving smile was for the justice she would bring him.
The three boys who had hurt Blaine did pay as his aunt had promised, but all magic came at a price and that was what Blaine had agreed to. Back at home and talking about Dalton Academy with his parents, his Aunt Annie had burst through the door with a local paper in hand, eyes wide and hair wild. She showed Blaine and his family the story of the three boys who had attacked, a story that detailed how each of the boys had disappeared from their very beds, if their parents could be believed. She rounded on Blaine and demanded if anyone other than herself and his parents had visited-he answered honestly and after the shocked gasps subsided, black smoke trickled into the house until everything was covered.
When Blaine came to, the world was much bigger than he remembered and his parents nowhere to be found.
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Kurt didn’t remember driving home after the confrontation with Karofsky, but he did remember sitting on his bed and trying to piece himself back together. He knew that things could have gone much worse-but that didn’t mean what had happened was any less horrible. Everything started to make sense as he sat in his room, curled up on his bed with Beatles playing in the background-Karofsky’s focus, the way his eyes would linger on him after all the other jocks had left, and why he went out of his way to bully Kurt. It was horrifying to think about and he wished he was still ignorant about David Karofsky-he barely touched his dinner that night.
The next day, Karofsky had cornered him by his locker and threatened to kill him if he told anyone what happened-and Kurt believed him. He knew the fear driving Karofsky all too well and even though Mr. Schue had taken him to Figgins after finding him slumped in the wake of Karofsky’s threat, he had no idea what to do. He didn’t believe in outing but-but Karofsky meant it, he did, and Kurt didn’t-he left the office with slumped shoulders and a secret he didn’t want locked up inside his head. His dad knew something was wrong and was especially persistent at dinner, but Kurt couldn’t work up the will to tell him; Karofsky’s threat hung heavy around his ears and in the end his dad was forced to accept a mumbled ‘it’s nothing, just stress’ with only a heavy sigh before going back to his carrots.
The next Friday, he’d driven on auto-pilot to Rosie’s again-he needed a distraction from everything. His dad kept asking after him and his friends had finally started to notice something was wrong between him and Karofsky (a little too late, he thought bitterly). The effort it took to keep everything to himself was getting ridiculous, so after school on Friday, he skipped Glee practice and drove to Rosie’s. The store was a little busier than usual, but it was still relaxing to step through the door and lose himself in music. It also helped that only moments after arriving at the store, he heard a pawing at the door and turned to spot Blaine meowing for him, still wearing the red and yellow polka-dotted bow-tie. He let Blaine in and scooped him up, pressing his face into the cat’s downy-soft neck; Blaine didn’t fight his hold one bit.
“It is really good to see you, Mr. Blaine. I’m sorry I haven’t been around it’s just-things are complicated.” Blaine meowed softly and nudged at his chin. Kurt giggled a little and set Blaine back down, motioning silently towards their little alcove outside. Blaine’s tailed twitched and he headed towards the door, looking back at Kurt, clearly beckoning him to follow. Kurt shook his head and followed after, collapsing down on the white bench moments later. Blaine hopped up beside him and crawled until he was perched on Kurt’s lap, blinking up at him as if to say, ‘go ahead.’ And, because Kurt didn’t know who else to talk to but knowing he needed to get it out before the secret turned to poison and choked him, he finally broke down.
He would’ve felt embarrassed if anyone but a cat was watching him choke out words around his sobs, but it was the only way he could get out everything that had happened. He told Blaine about Karofsky that day and how breaking his phone while he’d been texting Mercedes had been the last straw. How he’d followed him into the lockers and yelled and yelled and yelled at him until Karofsky was yelling back, up close and fists shaking. How quicker than Kurt could register, Karofsky had leaned in and kissed him, how he’d tried to lean in again, as if Kurt had somehow welcomed the first one. The threat and how Kurt couldn’t say anything until he was just choking out sounds until his sobs dried out. Through it all Blaine watched him; Kurt could feel his claws digging into his leg in what could’ve been anger and he smoothed a hand down Blaine’s back to try and calm him. He was probably just reacting to Kurt’s stress-animals did that, he remembered reading somewhere.
His situation didn’t magically fix itself just because Kurt confessed things to a cat; Karofsky had still threatened him and Kurt was saddled with his secret sexuality, his teachers were still useless, and his dad was still worried about him. But, he did feel slightly better from airing everything out, letting someone else hear him, even if that someone was a cat. He wiped at his eyes and dug around in his bag for a handkerchief to dab at his face and nose; he took a couple deep breaths and glanced back down at Blaine, who was still staring at him with his strange intensity. Kurt huffed a little grin and tickled the underside of Blaine’s chin.
“Thanks for, I don’t know, not running away when I started blubbering?” Blaine looked to shake his head and Kurt tickled a little harder under the bow-tie collar. “I wish I knew what to do-I suppose the obvious thing is to tell someone but, but no one knows what’s going on in his head, and I can’t tell them why he threatened to-I just can’t do that to him.”
Blaine swatted at his arm, claws out a little and Kurt frowned down at the cat before shoving him back onto the bench. “Quit that, I can’t! What they would do to him…well, it’ll make what they did to me-it’ll be so much worse. I just don’t know what to do.”
Blaine stared at him for a few moments more before growling a little and hopping off the bench, darting around the wall at a sprint. Kurt watched him go long after he was gone and sighed a little, sad that he’d left, but honestly, Blaine was a cat, he probably just got bored with Kurt’s woes and wanted to be around people who weren’t so depressing and pathetic. He dithered on the bench for a little bit, trying to decide whether he wanted to go back into the shop or just head home. He really didn’t need anything from Rosie’s, and his dad was probably worried enough about him anyway, so he gathered up his things and headed back towards his car, face drawn and exhausted.
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“Blaine?”
I need you to write something.
“I don’t think that’s-”
Just do it! Please!
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Kurt was shutting the passenger side door and heading over to the driver’s side when he spotted Blaine sprinting out of Annabelle’s shop, something white clutched in his mouth. Kurt watched him as he sprinted past the record store, into the alcove, looked around with an increasingly puffed up tail, before he spotted Kurt at his car. Kurt stared, completely confused as to what he was witnessing, as Blaine bounded across the street towards him, almost skidding to a stop at his feet, his little chest heaving with effort. Blaine meowed, muffled by the white thing in his mouth, and spat it out onto the ground; he pushed it towards Kurt with one paw, hazel eyes blinking up at him imploringly. Kurt knelt down and took what he could see was a piece of paper into his shaky hands and uncurled it to see what was on it. It was a single word.
Courage.
Kurt stared and stared at the word and then lifted his eyes to stare at Blaine, who was watching him with more intelligence, more compassion and more, Kurt could barely understand it, more affection than a cat could possibly possess. He swallowed and tried to find words of his own, but all he could was stare back down at the word Blaine had given him-this wasn’t real, things like this didn’t happen outside of Japanese cartoons and movies. And yet-Blaine’s eyes said that they could. “Can-can you understand me?”
Blaine blinked and then dipped his head forward in an unmistakable nod. Kurt let out a shaky breath and covered his mouth with his hand, the paper pressing up against his jaw a little. Blaine looked down and his tail was swishing back and forth quickly; Kurt knew that meant he was worried, agitated. Scared. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from getting too high or too hysterical. “Have you-did you always-are you really a cat?”
Blaine meowed softly and shook his head, looking back up at Kurt with sad, guilt-ridden eyes. Kurt laughed, high and brittle and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m going insane, that’s it, the stress has finally gotten to me and I’m imagining a cat talking to me.”
Blaine meowed again, more insistent and Kurt flashed him a helpless smile; Blaine came forward after a little hesitation and then nudged Kurt’s hand on the ground, his eyes casting upwards every now and then in apology and begging Kurt to believe him. Kurt shook his head, not knowing what to say, when he heard a woman call his name from the other side of the street. He looked up with wet, wide eyes and spotted Annabelle’s quick, purposeful strides; he quickly got to his feet and blinked at her as she came to a stop in front of him. She looked down at Blaine, then to Kurt, and finally at the paper crumpled up in his hand; she sighed and gave them both a lopsided smile.
“Well, it’s a good sign you didn’t run away screaming, Kurt Hummel. Why don’t we go inside my shop and have a little chat, mm? Catch you up to speed.”
“Chat? About what?” Kurt asked a little breathlessly; he felt Blaine rubbing against his calf and he wondered why that still felt comforting, even though he apparently wasn’t really a cat and should be weird if a person trapped as a cat was rubbing against his leg.
Annabelle arched her brow and pointedly motioned her chin down at Blaine. “Well, to talk about my nephew of course. I figured a discussion of Blaine Anderson and how he came to be a cat, and what you’re potential part in helping him change back to normal, is best left for indoors, don’t you think?”
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There once was a boy named Blaine Anderson who was gay, had two aunts, and was now a cat-and he needed Kurt Hummel to become human again.
Why did he need Kurt Hummel, you may ask? Well, that is the question, isn’t it? He needed Kurt Hummel for a multitude of reasons, many of which I’m sure his Aunt Annabelle, called Annie when she was wont to feel a little younger, will explain in due time. Really though, there’s only one reason you need to satisfy your curiosity. And that reason, most simply, is love, a most powerful thing in any story and especially so here.
But, it may take them awhile yet to come to that reason; just a little more patience, we’re more than half way through the woods and have just one more path before we see the dawn.
Next Chapter
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