through the looking glass 3/8
title: through the looking glass
summary: blaine believed. blaine believed so much that he didn't doubt for a second that this guy making out with him was not his boyfriend. why can't doppelgangers just stay in their parallel universes?
rating: T
pairing: klaine; altverse kinn & blina
genre: borderline crack
warnings: some violence in this chapter, not too graphic
notes: written for a prompt over the kurt_blaine prompt meme -- also completely wacky, so please be warned.
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chapter three: kiss with a fist
Kurt was not in English, so Blaine took a moment to curl up in the corner of the boy’s bathroom and rock back and forth. It seemed like it was all catching up with him. Blaine remembered how it felt when Kurt went back to McKinley, before Blaine followed. This was so much worse. Normal people lost remotes in couches -- Blaine lost his boyfriend to a parallel universe. How was that fair?
“Hey buddy ... you gonna be okay?” Finn was awkwardly patting Blaine’s back, and Blaine looked up from his trembling hands.
“I just need Kurt.”
“Hey guys,” not-Kurt said from the doorway, where he was peeking outside. “Artie’s walking this way.”
“Well that’s rude,” Blaine said with a sniff, but allowed Finn to pull him to his feet.
“Yeah man, Artie doesn’t really walk,” Finn added as he and Blaine walked over to not-Kurt’s side.
“You’re right, it’s more like he glides. All that ballet I think.” Not-Kurt shrugged, opening the door all the way. “Remember Blaine, white and nerdy straight guy, Finn, all over me. Don’t be afraid to touch.” He threw a wink back at Finn, who nodded slowly back. They stepped out in the hall, and Blaine and Finn promptly made simultaneous noises of shock. Not-Artie was walking. Actually walking.
“Yo.” Not-Artie said when he was closer.
“Yo.” Blaine replied, still stunned. Finn didn’t even say anything, eyes wide.
“Hello Artimus Prime.” Not-Kurt flirtily cocked a hip to the side. Not-Artie tipped his glasses down in an impressively smooth move Blaine liked to practice with sunglasses.
“You guys weren’t having a threesome in there, right? Tina’s mad enough about Quinn and Blaine.” Not-Artie also had a kick-ass disappointed dad face.
“No I like girls.” Blaine said, a little stiffly. “Girls ... with curls. I’m one hundred percent straight. Girl booty all up in my face. Straight as an arrow flying straight, straight through hearts. Girl hearts.”
“Well sure, why not?” Not-Kurt sighed, throwing his arms in the air.
“Blaine, my homie, I thought we already established you can’t lie.” Not-Artie chuckled, before growing all serious again. “But Tina deserves your respect, and by cheating on her, even if the plumbing is different, you’re saying you don’t respect her. So check yourself before you wreck yourself.” At the end of that Blaine felt approximately two inches tall. What a load of suck. He hadn’t even done anything!
“You’re such a good guy Artimus. Want a reward?” Not-Kurt seductively stepped up into Artie’s personal space. Judging by the look on Artie’s face, this was more friendly banter than serious flirting.
“A trophy would be cool.” Not-Artie replied, and as their back-and-forth continued Blaine felt Finn lean down and whisper in his ear.
“How do you describe something that’s really nice but in a sad way?”
Blaine turned (and accidentally brushed his lips against Finn’s, but they were going to pretend that hadn’t happened) and whispered back. “Bittersweet?”
“Yeah. This is that.” Finn looked like a kicked puppy and Blaine sighed in agreement. His attention was returned to not-Kurt and -Artie’s conversation when not-Kurt asked about Kurt.
“So have you seen me around? Like, me if I was a prude?” Not-Kurt asked this so casually it almost made up for the sheer weirdness of the question.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Not-Artie’s brow wrinkled.
“Notice how Anderson’s in leather and bondage instead of gangsta-chic?” Blaine looked down at his outfit as not-Kurt spoke, and wow, like he needed a reminder about that.
“They look like your clothes, so I just assumed --”
“No.” Not-Kurt said with a haughty sniff. “I don’t share clothes. See, Quinn practiced some of her black magic and instead of just looking crazy it worked. She sucked all of the kinky fun from me and spat it into Blaine, hence the threesome and the cheating and the clothes. My body couldn’t handle not being the hottest action on the block and split into two. So there’s me, amazing as ever, and prude-me, who doesn’t want to bone Finn and probably just called you Artie.”
“I don’t believe that story at all.” Not-Artie said, poker-faced, then grinned. “But you put so much effort into it I’ll play along. Yeah, I saw ‘prude-you’ earlier. He got all surprised when he saw me, then asked me to not tell Finn I had seen him.”
“When was this?” Blaine asked.
“Between first and second period.” Not-Artie shrugged. “Hope that helps your weird sex game, but I gotta run. Ms Avery will get suspicious if I take this long going to the bathroom.”
“Thanks Artimus.” Not-Kurt gave him a shoulder pat as he passed.
"Home slice." Not-Artie held up a fist to Blaine.
"Home skittle." Blaine returned the fist bump.
Not-Artie only nodded at Finn, and Blaine had to wonder what not-Finn was like.
When they were alone, not-Kurt spun to face Blaine and Finn with a frustrated sigh. “Seems like he’s still at school, but where? You two know him best, where would he be?”
Blaine and Finn looked at each other. “The choir room.”
***
The choir room was empty. Or at least, it would have been, if there wasn’t a hulking figure peering out the window in the corner, shoulders hunched. From the size alone Blaine guessed it was not-Finn, and before they were noticed Blaine shoved Finn so he fell over behind the piano.
"Hey!" Finn shouted as he went down, and not-Finn turned around. A brilliant smile crossed his face at the sight of not-Kurt, and Blaine relaxed a little. This Finn was in leather to match Blaine's own, minus the lace-up sides (Blaine burned with jealousy) and a tight black t-shirt, but otherwise he seemed pretty normal.
"Kurt!" Not-Finn bounced over to them, and Blaine had to admit those leather pants looked good, especially compared to the saggy jeans that Finn normally sported. Speaking of which, those jeans were all Blaine could see of Finn because he had thankfully gotten a clue and was belly-shuffling underneath the piano. Brad wouldn't be happy, unless not-Brad actually liked students.
"Finn! Darling! Sweetie!" Not-Kurt squealed, throwing his arms around Not-Finn's neck. Blaine smiled, because they looked likea sweet couple, if nauseatingly so. Was it wrong to like the idea of his boyfriend's parallel universe twin and step-brothers boyfriend having, to quote another not-Kurtism, hot semi-incestuous monkey sex? Did this make Blaine a pervert?
Whatever. He already kinda was. Just don't tell Kurt.
"I just wanna say: hummingbird. Hummingbird." Not-Finn whispered into not-Kurt's hair, and not-Kurt stroked his neck in return. Blaine backed off so he was leaning against the piano and out the way of their cuddling reunion, and also helpfully blocked Finn's giant feet as they stuck out from under the piano. Finn definitely was one of those kids who always lost at hide and go seek.
"Our safe word? Why?"
"I thought it was a game, the way you were messing with me. You didn't fuck me in the shower, you walked to school and you locked yourself in a dumpster just to avoid me!" Not-Finn sniffed sadly, then sniffed again. "Good job cleaning up by the way, you smell great."
"Did I do that?" Not-Kurt sighed sadly. "I guess I was high. Or drunk. Or high and drunk. Dark magic? Alien mind control technology. There's a whole list of possible reasons, but you don't need to see any of those."
"No, I don't." Not-Finn stepped back, and stuck a hand into his back pocket. "Listen. I know this is sudden, and we're so young, but I'm not thinking about the haters. All I'm thinking is about how much I love you, how much I always want to live down the hall from you." Not-Finn sank down to one knee. "I guess what I'm trying to say is--" he whipped out a velvet box "--will you marry me, Kurt?" He popped open the box to reveal a dinky ring, and Blaine rolled his eyes.
Evil twin or not, there was no way any form of Kurt would go for a proposal like that. Blaine had signed a contract on their two-week anniversary stating that all future proposals would happen under a full moon many years from now, with Kurt's full knowledge in advance so he could plan the proper outfit.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Not-Kurt flung himself down onto not-Finn, peppering his face with kisses. "Oh, I've been waiting for you to propose since you first tied me to my headboard."
"Holy shit!" Finn shouted, and not-Finn and -Kurt turned to stare at Blaine, who coughed.
"Uh. Yes, holy shit," Blaine said, and tried to combine his and not-Artie's disappointed dad faces for this bit. "First off, not-Finn's right, you're way too young. Second off, do you even get along without sex? And thirdly, that proposal was so bad, I think Kurt's inner wedding planner just packed its bags and moved off to Paris."
"He may be booking a flight," not-Kurt hissed. "But I go crazy without someone to come home to and bone. Seriously. I end up singing duets with my dildo. And you can't do that Anderson, you just can't. Dildos can't sing."
"I'll buy you a phallicly-shaped voice recorder and sing into it. But please, wait on this. Maybe you and he will get married some day. If you really love each other and have faith in your relationship, you won't have to worry about him leaving you sexless and alone."
Not-Kurt eyes got very big as he stared at Blaine. Uh-oh. That was Kurt's swooning and mooning look.
"Screw you Anderson!" Not-Finn shouted. "Since when do you wear my boyfriend's clothes and not talk like Eminem? Huh? What the fuck is up with that bro?" Not-Finn rose to his feet, pushing not-Kurt aside and then advanced on Blaine in a really menacing way. Really menacing. Blaine crouched a little to put a hand on his nervously knocking knees. "Come on, we need to talk."
"Finn, lay off. He's about as dangerous as a pomeranian! Look at him, he's the size of one!" Not-Kurt yelped as not-Finn grabbed Blaine's arm and started to drag him toward the door.
Blaine gaped, scandalized.
Not-Finn spun towards not-Kurt and glared. "A pomeranian ... once bit me."
Seeing as how all small dogs were hellhounds in training, Blaine could see why this excellent point blew not-Kurt away, and understood why he didn't say anything else as not-Finn pulled Blaine from the room. After they exited the choir room they didn't go far; not-Finn simply pushed Blaine into the dip between lockers.
"I'm not cheating with not-Kurt," Blaine said in his best soothing-therapist tone, hands held up in his most non-confrontational way. Seven out of ten bullies thought it worked great.
"Don't try to double-negative your way out of this!" Not-Finn shouted, but he didn't look very mad. Then he dropped his voice to a murmur. "I don't care if you are, though it would be weird. Listen, I know you hate Kurt just as much I do." Blaine thought he heard something behind not-Finn but past the guy's giant shoulders and giant announcement, he couldn't be sure.
"You just proposed to him," Blaine was baffled. He didn't like it very much. He was used to understanding people, and this was so left field it came from the right.
"No, Karofsky paid me to seduce him and break his heart on his wedding night. But I got my eye on someone else, and I don't have time to wait until we're all old and crap to get married. So I need you to not change his mind about this, so me and Sam can roleplay that I'm the washerwoman and his abs are my washboard."
"So you're just using him. Using and abusing?" Blaine stared up at not-Finn, mind in turmoil. Not-Kurt was sinister to a degree that couldn't be qualified, least of all because he made fun of Kurt's tight jeans -- but not-Finn was maybe the most evil of them all. You didn't solve evil with more evil. Everyone knew that. That was why Harry never sent anything worse than a stunning spell. Honestly.
"Sounds fun, right?" Not-Finn grinned, all teeth -- and Blaine punched them, promptly splitting open his fist and making it hurt like a mother. Finn fell back, swearing loudly, mouth red.
"Fuck!"
"That never looks painful in the movies," Blaine hissed, teeth clenched as he cradled his hand. Then he remembered that, as he was now a badass, he had to follow through with a witty one-liner. "Stay the hell away from Kurt. That punch was only thirty percent of my power, but it's a hundred percent reason to remember the name, got that?"
"Ow." Not-Finn blinked watery eyes.
"Well, was that Eminem enough for you?" Blaine dusted off his hands then winced. Next stop: nurse's office.
"Uh, I actually think that's Fort Minor--" Blaine raised his fist again and not-Finn whimpered. "Alright. Fine. But you get to tell Karofsky the deal is off, and you gotta pay me what he won't."
Blaine smirked slowly. "Oh don't worry. I'll give you my credit card and any of the pinfo you need."
"Thanks!" Not-Finn grinned then winced, and Blaine pretended to dust his hands off again so he could high-five himself. He was so good.
Not-Finn left to go check his injury out in the washroom, and Blaine walked with a swagger back to the choir room. He was in the middle of a fantasy where he told Kurt that he had managed to kick Finn's ass when he walked back into the room and saw not-Kurt and Finn facing off against someone in baggy gangsta-chic. Their eyes met, and Blaine felt a shock go through him.
No way.
No freakin' way.
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