Above us, only sky - Glee AU, PG
Title: Above us, only sky
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from John Lennon
Warnings: AU in that some people have animal attributes such as tails and wings. And AU partway through Never Been Kissed. Also, AU towards Blaine’s canon age.
Pairings: unrequited Karofsky/Kurt, pre-Blaine/Kurt
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2270
Point of view: third
Note: inspired by this
Another note: yes, I know that beyond the obvious, this is implausible. Also, some parts are probably not physically possible. I had so much fun writing it I don’t care.
Kurt tried to fly once. He was six. Mama had been promising him lessons forever, Mama with her massive golden wings, her golden hair, her sky blue eyes.
(People always used to tell him he looked just like Mama.)
Kurt’s wings, though, had always been delicate, dull brown things. They used to flap incessantly, giving away his mood, reactions he couldn’t control. Mama taught him tricks to keep them calm, tips to fit his wings into his clothes, and in later years he greatly expanded on that.
But he only ever tried to fly the once. Mama had been promising him lessons ever since he realized he had something in common with the birds in the sky, and he was tired of waiting.
Dad had extra-sharp nails that grew extra-quickly and Mama trimmed them every morning. Those were the only wolf in him - well, those and the growl that sometimes roughened his voice and his extraordinary sense of smell. Kurt inherited the nails, so Mama trimmed his, too.
The one time Kurt tried flying, Dad was at the garage and Mama was working on a project in the den. Kurt climbed onto the roof, spread his little wings, and jumped.
His wings fluttered uselessly as he screamed, and then he hit the ground with a thump and a snap.
Kurt didn’t try to fly again for over a decade. His wings were small and weak, but he exercised them like any other part of his body, for appearances if nothing else. Dad told him to have patience - his wings would grow, would strengthen. That according to all sources, it simply took time.
He’d smiled and nodded and didn’t really believe that. Kurt was scrawny, short, and small. His wings were dull and delicate. They matched the rest of him.
0o0
At McKinley, the endless torture chamber masquerading as a place of learning, there was a status quo. Normals were mostly left alone by animas. Full humans with no animas traits at all were safe, except from other humans. Kids with ears, tails, and claws of any kind were mostly left alone, too. There was some tail pulling, of course, and if the ears looked soft enough, a few girls might pet them, no matter who they were on. But claws, especially the retractable kind, hurt. After the first couple swipes, people with claws were abandoned for easier targets. Forked tongues were kinda cool, and scaled knuckles hurt almost as much as claws, if used to punch someone.
So normals were left to normal bullies. Animas were left to animas bullies, if they were bullied at all. Usually, only the weak were picked on - survival of the fittest and all. Felid, canid, and reptilian were the most common anywhere; chiropterans were a myth Kurt didn’t believe in. He’d never seen anyone with bat attributes, anyway. And he was the lone avian in Lima since Mama died.
Wings, Kurt had learned through research, were the rarest of all. Some avians were unlucky, with bird feet or a beak instead of mouth. A few just had the eyes of whatever bird ran in their family. Kurt and his mother had wings. Most anything else would be hidden, but wings…
And they didn’t even work.
0o0
Kurt dressed how he wanted, he held his head high no matter what the bullies said or did, and he swore to leave one day and never come back.
Twenty kids at McKinley were felid or canid. Five were reptilian. Chiropteran didn’t exist anymore, if they ever had.
One was avian.
0o0
The glee club was supposed to be fun. He joined for an escape. Then Schue got seven popular kids to sing and dance with them, and Kurt had to be on guard even there. He kept to the edge, wings held carefully in. Of the twelve glee members, five were animas: Santana Lopez with tiger stripes and painfully sharp nails, Brittany Pierce with adorable fennec fox ears, Tina Cohen-Chang had a forked tongue and slitted eyes, Noah Puckerman (Puck, the main bully) had a long dark tail and fangs, and Kurt Hummel had useless brown wings that drooped from his shoulders.
Kurt was small. He tried keeping to himself, but sometimes even the normals of McKinley shoved him around. He often wondered about keeping his nails sharp instead of filing them down so he had a weapon to fight back - but there no point. He was the gay winged freak. He just needed to survive.
0o0
When Kurt was seventeen, he snuck into a school two hours away from home to spy on a rival glee club. The school seemed to have an even mix of normals and animas; Kurt saw three kids with wings. He stared at them with wide eyes, his own hidden beneath a coat.
A boy passed him on the stairs, wings tucked down. Kurt watched him, mouth open in surprise: the first three winged boys had feathers like Kurt, albeit white and blue and gray. But this boy - his wings were leathery and black, like a bat. Chiropteran.
Not a myth at all, then.
“Excuse me,” Kurt said, reaching out; the boy turned, expression expectant. His gaze went to the coat and it looked like he folded a smile away, but his eyes were still laughing.
In hindsight, Kurt really was a terrible spy. But Blaine held his hand and sang that song to him, and it was so wonderful.
And then, they caught him on the way out, coat gone and wings stretching to their full span. The wings had grown with him, strong and supple, and he’d ben daydreaming about the sky lately. About trying again. Just like he’d been sharpening his nails and expertly avoiding Dad’s questions about the slight scent of blood always on him anymore.
One of Blaine’s friends had fox ears and a bushy tail and promised him they wouldn’t beat him. The other was normal and called him endearing. Kurt watched Blaine’s wings with fascinated awe and didn’t notice Blaine watching his right back.
After Wes and David excused themselves and Blaine talked about confronting bullies and Kurt nearly broke down in tears, he looked Blaine in the eye and asked, “Have you ever flown?”
Blaine nodded. “My dad and I… since I came out, the only time we ever spend together anymore is in the sky.”
One of Kurt’s wings rustled; he reached over his shoulder to stroke the nearest feather, biting his lip. “I never have,” he confessed. He tried once and broke his leg in two places. His wings had always been weak and dull, but now they glinted in the light and he heard skysong.
“Your wings look strong,” Blaine said, ducking his head. Kurt flushed, wings clamping tight. “Take my number,” Blaine suggested, grabbing a napkin. “Call me if you want to talk about your bully, or if you wanna fly.”
“Really?” Kurt asked. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Blaine raised a brow. “If I thought you could be a bother, I wouldn’t have offered.” He held out the napkin. Kurt hesitantly reached for it, fingers gentle on the fragile paper.
Blaine’s wings shifted and he smiled.
0o0
Karofsky, a normal boy twice Kurt’s size, slapped his phone from his hand and shoved him into the lockers. Kurt stared after him, wings tight against his back, aching, and fingers curved, nails sharp.
Courage, the text had read. Courage.
He ran after Karofsky, tired of being the easy target for every predator in the school. He yelled at the boy, wings spread to make himself larger. He kept his hands ready, in case he needed a weapon, but Karofsky didn’t attack him. Not like he expected.
Karofsky grabbed his face and forced their lips together and Kurt froze, hands raised and wings spread, until Karofsky let him go, looked at him, and moved in again.
Fight or flight. Kurt had never been capable of either, but he slashed Karofsky’s face and fled the room, tearing his way through the hall until he was outside. People who had pushed him around or ignored him got out of the way, glancing at each other in askance, but Kurt was beneath the sky now, wings flared and chest heaving.
He had blood on his fingers. Something in his head was shrieking, was snarling, and he hadn’t tried since he was six years old. Everyone knew he couldn’t fly and wouldn’t fight, and - and -
He closed his eyes and keened. He had to get away, get high out of reach, so he pumped the wings that had gotten massive as he grew, and he soared into the sky.
0o0
When he landed, Kurt was lost. He’d never been so exhausted, even when he was a cheerio. He collapsed, wrapping his wings tight around himself and fell into a shivering, uneasy sleep.
He woke cold, trembling and achy. It was early November and his muscles still tremored. He staggered to his feet, wings still clamped tightly for warmth, and stared at the sky.
Kurt was in a clearing. It was night. He hadn’t a clue where he was or how to get home, and no way to call for help. He wanted to cry and curl up in his dad’s arms. Instead, he was alone and cold and lost.
But he’d flown. He’d flown far. His wings worked amazingly well. He smiled before remembering he was alone, cold, and lost.
He sank back down, resting his head on his arms, wrapped around his knees, wings still cloaked over him. He knew he should find a road, find a kind motorist with a phone, but hewas still so exhausted he nearly fell asleep again.
Then he heard, “Kurt! Kurt Hummel!” And again, from a different direction, “Kurt!”
His wings fell open as he scrambled to his feet.
“Kurt Hummel!” a strange voice shouted, and dogs were barking, and then a howl he knew, and “KURT!”
“Dad!” he screamed. “Dad, I’m over here!”
0o0
So, Kurt got grounded, of course. Until he conditioned his body properly, he couldn’t fly again, and even then, he had to stay in his dad’s sight for the foreseeable future. And all of the glee club and Coach Sylvester yelled at him.
Karofsky’s face was going to scar, but no one knew where the scratches came from. Kurt’s explanation for why he flew away (he flew!) didn’t name anyone in particular. He said only the collective bullying had finally gotten to him and he had to escape.
When he called Blaine, a week after Dad and the police and a livid Sue Sylvester found him, he shouted, “I flew, Blaine! I clawed the shit out of him and I flew thirty miles.”
“Kurt?” Blaine asked.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Sorry. Blaine, this is Kurt. The spy? We, um, talked about a week ago? You texted me a lot.”
“No, Kurt, yeah, I know. I mean, I remember. But, you - you clawed who and flew where?”
Kurt fell forward on his bed, letting his wings stretch out. “The bully. I confronted him and he…” Kurt paused, licking his lips. He hadn’t told anyone. Not Dad, not the police, not Coach, not any of his friends. But he had to talk about it. “Blaine, he kissed me. And when he tried again, I raked his face and flew away.”
Blaine was quiet for a moment. “He kissed you?” Blaine echoed softly. “Oh, Kurt.”
“Fight or flight, right?” Kurt said, laughing slightly. “I never thought I could do both in the same day.”
They stayed silent for a few minutes. Finally, Kurt said, “I told my dad about Dalton. He… I’ve never seen him so scared, Blaine, not even at the hospital after the accident. He led the cops to me, not the other way around. He terrified the principal, and he’s thinking about a lawsuit.” Kurt bounced up and flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He shifted his wings around; they were so big now. They trailed on the floor, taking up more space than his bed. “He won’t send me back to McKinley, not since I explained about the bullying.”
“I think you’d do well at Dalton,” Blaine said. “There should be some scholarships you can apply for.”
“Yeah.” Kurt sighed. “He’s been talking to admissions. It’s just… I flew, Blaine. I tasted the sky and it was wonderful.”
Blaine laughed gently. “When you come to Dalton,” he promised, “I’ll fly with you.”
0o0
At McKinley, there were twenty-five animas students, all canid, felid, or reptilian. At Dalton, there were a hundred and fourteen. Most, of course, were felid or canid. Twenty-two were reptilian. Thirteen were avian. Two were chiropteran.
Blaine was popular at Dalton. A senior, he’d attended Dalton since ninth grade. He’d come from a public school, where his wings had kept animas and normals away.
“I told people I was part vampire bat,” he snickered, “and that I’d drain them dry if they ever messed with me.” He arched his back, extending the wings fully. Kurt stared at him before blushing and hunching down.
“Let’s go fly,” Blaine said, holding out a hand.
Kurt let Blaine pull him to his feet, then followed him to the roof. “Last time I jumped off a roof,” Kurt muttered nervously, “I fell and broke my leg.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said, “but you can fly now. C’mon, Kurt. Don’t you hear the sky calling?”
Blaine tossed himself off, launching into the air. He turned to look at Kurt, rising higher and higher.
Kurt threw his head back and shrieked, then dove over the side; he rose, strong and powerful strokes taking him past Blaine, into the sky.
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from John Lennon
Warnings: AU in that some people have animal attributes such as tails and wings. And AU partway through Never Been Kissed. Also, AU towards Blaine’s canon age.
Pairings: unrequited Karofsky/Kurt, pre-Blaine/Kurt
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2270
Point of view: third
Note: inspired by this
Another note: yes, I know that beyond the obvious, this is implausible. Also, some parts are probably not physically possible. I had so much fun writing it I don’t care.
Kurt tried to fly once. He was six. Mama had been promising him lessons forever, Mama with her massive golden wings, her golden hair, her sky blue eyes.
(People always used to tell him he looked just like Mama.)
Kurt’s wings, though, had always been delicate, dull brown things. They used to flap incessantly, giving away his mood, reactions he couldn’t control. Mama taught him tricks to keep them calm, tips to fit his wings into his clothes, and in later years he greatly expanded on that.
But he only ever tried to fly the once. Mama had been promising him lessons ever since he realized he had something in common with the birds in the sky, and he was tired of waiting.
Dad had extra-sharp nails that grew extra-quickly and Mama trimmed them every morning. Those were the only wolf in him - well, those and the growl that sometimes roughened his voice and his extraordinary sense of smell. Kurt inherited the nails, so Mama trimmed his, too.
The one time Kurt tried flying, Dad was at the garage and Mama was working on a project in the den. Kurt climbed onto the roof, spread his little wings, and jumped.
His wings fluttered uselessly as he screamed, and then he hit the ground with a thump and a snap.
Kurt didn’t try to fly again for over a decade. His wings were small and weak, but he exercised them like any other part of his body, for appearances if nothing else. Dad told him to have patience - his wings would grow, would strengthen. That according to all sources, it simply took time.
He’d smiled and nodded and didn’t really believe that. Kurt was scrawny, short, and small. His wings were dull and delicate. They matched the rest of him.
0o0
At McKinley, the endless torture chamber masquerading as a place of learning, there was a status quo. Normals were mostly left alone by animas. Full humans with no animas traits at all were safe, except from other humans. Kids with ears, tails, and claws of any kind were mostly left alone, too. There was some tail pulling, of course, and if the ears looked soft enough, a few girls might pet them, no matter who they were on. But claws, especially the retractable kind, hurt. After the first couple swipes, people with claws were abandoned for easier targets. Forked tongues were kinda cool, and scaled knuckles hurt almost as much as claws, if used to punch someone.
So normals were left to normal bullies. Animas were left to animas bullies, if they were bullied at all. Usually, only the weak were picked on - survival of the fittest and all. Felid, canid, and reptilian were the most common anywhere; chiropterans were a myth Kurt didn’t believe in. He’d never seen anyone with bat attributes, anyway. And he was the lone avian in Lima since Mama died.
Wings, Kurt had learned through research, were the rarest of all. Some avians were unlucky, with bird feet or a beak instead of mouth. A few just had the eyes of whatever bird ran in their family. Kurt and his mother had wings. Most anything else would be hidden, but wings…
And they didn’t even work.
0o0
Kurt dressed how he wanted, he held his head high no matter what the bullies said or did, and he swore to leave one day and never come back.
Twenty kids at McKinley were felid or canid. Five were reptilian. Chiropteran didn’t exist anymore, if they ever had.
One was avian.
0o0
The glee club was supposed to be fun. He joined for an escape. Then Schue got seven popular kids to sing and dance with them, and Kurt had to be on guard even there. He kept to the edge, wings held carefully in. Of the twelve glee members, five were animas: Santana Lopez with tiger stripes and painfully sharp nails, Brittany Pierce with adorable fennec fox ears, Tina Cohen-Chang had a forked tongue and slitted eyes, Noah Puckerman (Puck, the main bully) had a long dark tail and fangs, and Kurt Hummel had useless brown wings that drooped from his shoulders.
Kurt was small. He tried keeping to himself, but sometimes even the normals of McKinley shoved him around. He often wondered about keeping his nails sharp instead of filing them down so he had a weapon to fight back - but there no point. He was the gay winged freak. He just needed to survive.
0o0
When Kurt was seventeen, he snuck into a school two hours away from home to spy on a rival glee club. The school seemed to have an even mix of normals and animas; Kurt saw three kids with wings. He stared at them with wide eyes, his own hidden beneath a coat.
A boy passed him on the stairs, wings tucked down. Kurt watched him, mouth open in surprise: the first three winged boys had feathers like Kurt, albeit white and blue and gray. But this boy - his wings were leathery and black, like a bat. Chiropteran.
Not a myth at all, then.
“Excuse me,” Kurt said, reaching out; the boy turned, expression expectant. His gaze went to the coat and it looked like he folded a smile away, but his eyes were still laughing.
In hindsight, Kurt really was a terrible spy. But Blaine held his hand and sang that song to him, and it was so wonderful.
And then, they caught him on the way out, coat gone and wings stretching to their full span. The wings had grown with him, strong and supple, and he’d ben daydreaming about the sky lately. About trying again. Just like he’d been sharpening his nails and expertly avoiding Dad’s questions about the slight scent of blood always on him anymore.
One of Blaine’s friends had fox ears and a bushy tail and promised him they wouldn’t beat him. The other was normal and called him endearing. Kurt watched Blaine’s wings with fascinated awe and didn’t notice Blaine watching his right back.
After Wes and David excused themselves and Blaine talked about confronting bullies and Kurt nearly broke down in tears, he looked Blaine in the eye and asked, “Have you ever flown?”
Blaine nodded. “My dad and I… since I came out, the only time we ever spend together anymore is in the sky.”
One of Kurt’s wings rustled; he reached over his shoulder to stroke the nearest feather, biting his lip. “I never have,” he confessed. He tried once and broke his leg in two places. His wings had always been weak and dull, but now they glinted in the light and he heard skysong.
“Your wings look strong,” Blaine said, ducking his head. Kurt flushed, wings clamping tight. “Take my number,” Blaine suggested, grabbing a napkin. “Call me if you want to talk about your bully, or if you wanna fly.”
“Really?” Kurt asked. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Blaine raised a brow. “If I thought you could be a bother, I wouldn’t have offered.” He held out the napkin. Kurt hesitantly reached for it, fingers gentle on the fragile paper.
Blaine’s wings shifted and he smiled.
0o0
Karofsky, a normal boy twice Kurt’s size, slapped his phone from his hand and shoved him into the lockers. Kurt stared after him, wings tight against his back, aching, and fingers curved, nails sharp.
Courage, the text had read. Courage.
He ran after Karofsky, tired of being the easy target for every predator in the school. He yelled at the boy, wings spread to make himself larger. He kept his hands ready, in case he needed a weapon, but Karofsky didn’t attack him. Not like he expected.
Karofsky grabbed his face and forced their lips together and Kurt froze, hands raised and wings spread, until Karofsky let him go, looked at him, and moved in again.
Fight or flight. Kurt had never been capable of either, but he slashed Karofsky’s face and fled the room, tearing his way through the hall until he was outside. People who had pushed him around or ignored him got out of the way, glancing at each other in askance, but Kurt was beneath the sky now, wings flared and chest heaving.
He had blood on his fingers. Something in his head was shrieking, was snarling, and he hadn’t tried since he was six years old. Everyone knew he couldn’t fly and wouldn’t fight, and - and -
He closed his eyes and keened. He had to get away, get high out of reach, so he pumped the wings that had gotten massive as he grew, and he soared into the sky.
0o0
When he landed, Kurt was lost. He’d never been so exhausted, even when he was a cheerio. He collapsed, wrapping his wings tight around himself and fell into a shivering, uneasy sleep.
He woke cold, trembling and achy. It was early November and his muscles still tremored. He staggered to his feet, wings still clamped tightly for warmth, and stared at the sky.
Kurt was in a clearing. It was night. He hadn’t a clue where he was or how to get home, and no way to call for help. He wanted to cry and curl up in his dad’s arms. Instead, he was alone and cold and lost.
But he’d flown. He’d flown far. His wings worked amazingly well. He smiled before remembering he was alone, cold, and lost.
He sank back down, resting his head on his arms, wrapped around his knees, wings still cloaked over him. He knew he should find a road, find a kind motorist with a phone, but hewas still so exhausted he nearly fell asleep again.
Then he heard, “Kurt! Kurt Hummel!” And again, from a different direction, “Kurt!”
His wings fell open as he scrambled to his feet.
“Kurt Hummel!” a strange voice shouted, and dogs were barking, and then a howl he knew, and “KURT!”
“Dad!” he screamed. “Dad, I’m over here!”
0o0
So, Kurt got grounded, of course. Until he conditioned his body properly, he couldn’t fly again, and even then, he had to stay in his dad’s sight for the foreseeable future. And all of the glee club and Coach Sylvester yelled at him.
Karofsky’s face was going to scar, but no one knew where the scratches came from. Kurt’s explanation for why he flew away (he flew!) didn’t name anyone in particular. He said only the collective bullying had finally gotten to him and he had to escape.
When he called Blaine, a week after Dad and the police and a livid Sue Sylvester found him, he shouted, “I flew, Blaine! I clawed the shit out of him and I flew thirty miles.”
“Kurt?” Blaine asked.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Sorry. Blaine, this is Kurt. The spy? We, um, talked about a week ago? You texted me a lot.”
“No, Kurt, yeah, I know. I mean, I remember. But, you - you clawed who and flew where?”
Kurt fell forward on his bed, letting his wings stretch out. “The bully. I confronted him and he…” Kurt paused, licking his lips. He hadn’t told anyone. Not Dad, not the police, not Coach, not any of his friends. But he had to talk about it. “Blaine, he kissed me. And when he tried again, I raked his face and flew away.”
Blaine was quiet for a moment. “He kissed you?” Blaine echoed softly. “Oh, Kurt.”
“Fight or flight, right?” Kurt said, laughing slightly. “I never thought I could do both in the same day.”
They stayed silent for a few minutes. Finally, Kurt said, “I told my dad about Dalton. He… I’ve never seen him so scared, Blaine, not even at the hospital after the accident. He led the cops to me, not the other way around. He terrified the principal, and he’s thinking about a lawsuit.” Kurt bounced up and flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He shifted his wings around; they were so big now. They trailed on the floor, taking up more space than his bed. “He won’t send me back to McKinley, not since I explained about the bullying.”
“I think you’d do well at Dalton,” Blaine said. “There should be some scholarships you can apply for.”
“Yeah.” Kurt sighed. “He’s been talking to admissions. It’s just… I flew, Blaine. I tasted the sky and it was wonderful.”
Blaine laughed gently. “When you come to Dalton,” he promised, “I’ll fly with you.”
0o0
At McKinley, there were twenty-five animas students, all canid, felid, or reptilian. At Dalton, there were a hundred and fourteen. Most, of course, were felid or canid. Twenty-two were reptilian. Thirteen were avian. Two were chiropteran.
Blaine was popular at Dalton. A senior, he’d attended Dalton since ninth grade. He’d come from a public school, where his wings had kept animas and normals away.
“I told people I was part vampire bat,” he snickered, “and that I’d drain them dry if they ever messed with me.” He arched his back, extending the wings fully. Kurt stared at him before blushing and hunching down.
“Let’s go fly,” Blaine said, holding out a hand.
Kurt let Blaine pull him to his feet, then followed him to the roof. “Last time I jumped off a roof,” Kurt muttered nervously, “I fell and broke my leg.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said, “but you can fly now. C’mon, Kurt. Don’t you hear the sky calling?”
Blaine tossed himself off, launching into the air. He turned to look at Kurt, rising higher and higher.
Kurt threw his head back and shrieked, then dove over the side; he rose, strong and powerful strokes taking him past Blaine, into the sky.