Fic: Burns Brighter (Chapter Three)

Jan 20, 2013 11:29

Title: Burns Brighter (Chapter Three)
Authors: gameboycolor ( drblaine) and ourlivesareweird.
Spoilers: All of Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, and Glee to be safe.
Warnings: Supernatural elements within the realm of the Avatar universe, descriptions of injuries, sports-related violence.
Rating: R overall
Length: ~3100 / ~10400
Summary: Kurt and Blaine navigate the perils of politics and pro-bending during the early years of Republic City. Picks up 50 years after the finale of Avatar: the Last Airbender.
A/N: It's been our absolute pleasure to continue sharing this story with you guys. Thank you to our faithful readers; your feedback delights us! As a treat, here's a picture of Blaine and a turtle duck, taken from a portion of this chapter. Enjoy!

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

AO3 | Reblog on Tumblr


The locker room is quiet. Blaine still isn’t sure how to speak to Kurt without starting an argument of some sort. He thinks of offering Kurt his silent support, but he remembers wishing someone had given him a few words of wisdom before his first match. Puck giving him a pat on the shoulder hadn’t counted.

“The first match is always a little rough. You can practice until you can’t feel your limbs, but nothing compares to being up against another team.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt asks. “I wasn’t aware I asked you for a pre-game pep talk.”

Blaine doesn’t know what he was expecting. Attempts at conversation with Kurt always tend to go like this. “Sorry,” he says quietly, voice slightly strained. “I thought you might be nervous.”

“Me?” Kurt laughs. “Nervous? Clearly you haven’t seen the start of hunting season in the South Pole. Now that is a blood bath. This? This is a little game.”

On some level, Blaine knows that he should be the bigger man, but it’s difficult when every attempt seems to be met with Kurt’s condescending tone and some pointless comparisons being drawn. If there’s anything that Blaine’s done his best to avoid by turning to pro-bending, it’s the feeling of being seen as a child, but with Kurt joining the team, that escape seems to weaken by the day.

“Kurt?” Emma calls from the entrance of the locker room, heels clicking nervously from where she stands by the door. “A word, please? I noticed your guestlist for the evening and I had a few questions for you.”

Kurt sighs, likely of relief. Blaine wasn’t aware that he was that awful to be in the company of.

With Kurt gone and the room momentarily empty, Blaine walks over to the bench lined up beside the stadium’s extending bridge. Blaine prefers quiet before a match. He needs time to collect his thoughts, time to force on what’s up ahead, and as much as he’s tried to help Kurt prepare for his first round, the waterbender’s heels are dug in deep - the team will be better served if Blaine takes a moment to anchor himself rather than fight a pointless battle.

As if on cue, Puck steps inside the locker room, interrupting the moment with a hand dropped heavily on Blaine’s shoulder. “You think Kurt’s ready for tonight?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Blaine lets it out slowly between his teeth before he replies. “Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to tell you want you want to hear?”

Puck sets his helmet on his lap, scratching at the back of his neck with a nonchalant shrug. “It sounds like you want to tell me your honest opinion, so go ahead. Can’t have you blowing up over something in the arena later tonight.”

“He already acts like he owns the ring, but he’s stubborn, Puck. He’s so stubborn. He doesn’t listen to a word I say. Any guidance I’ve tried to give him has gone in one ear and out the other. He thinks he knows it all, and I’m sick of it.”

“That could be a problem,” Pucks nods. Blaine briefly wonders if he’s being humored. “I say, we give it a try and hope for the best. Look at it this way, we would have had to drop out already without him. At least we get to play.”

“You’re... a little too calm about this. Eerily calm.” Blaine gazes briefly at Puck; he might have to have a talk with Sugar.

Puck ducks his head out of the locker room, offering a small wave as the crowd roars. “Just try and enjoy it, Blaine.” He steps back in, away from the view of the crowd. “You complain about him a lot, you know. More than you complain about me. It’s weird, man.”

“He’s like a virus,” Blaine says. “It’s like he’s wormed his way into my brain.”

“Whatever you say, but you need to chill out a little. You can’t babysit him out there.”

-

The first time Blaine ever participated in a pro-bending match, his eyes had immediately turned on the other firebender on the opposing team. A game of comparisons first, while his mind had yet to catch up with all of the variables or remember strategy as the crowd roared around them. Some of that nervousness remains at the pit of his stomach these days before matches, but for the most part, he draws momentum from that sense of imbalance, fire easily flaring from his knuckles and helping him revel in the excitement of the moment, the living that sometimes he only ever feels when he’s within the rink.

They’ve watched the Unholy Trinity in action before, and they’ve even competed against the team, although never with Kurt as their waterbender. It lends Blaine enough familiarity that he’s able to focus on his new teammate instead of the girls as they step out onto the platform. Kurt looks pale, even under the shadow of his helmet, and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen the blue of Kurt’s eyes so sharp and intense before - like shards of ice, glaring in the direction of the Trinity’s waterbender, Brittany.

It’s déjà vu of a sort that Blaine never expected to experience.

“...one of the favorites to advance into the finals! These girls are not to be trifled with, carefully hand-picked by none other than trainer Sue Sylvester, who has coached no less than four of the last five tournament champions. The Dragonhawks sure have their work cut out for them today, and we’ve yet to see their new waterbender in action...”

Blaine’s eyes flicker over to Kurt; if he’s listening to the commentary, it doesn’t show. Still, he can’t help but step over, bumping Kurt lightly with his elbow. Kurt starts.

“Make sure you keep an eye on all three players,” Blaine suggests in an undertone. In front of them, Puck hams up for the cameras, soaking up the attention of hundreds of screaming fans. “I know it’s tempting to stick to the element you know, but you’ll stand a better chance of weathering water than you will the other elements.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kurt hisses in return, practically bristling under Blaine’s words. “I remember our training.”

Glancing to the side, Blaine raises a hand in concession, then steps back into position.

He doesn’t want to make things worse.

“C’mon, boys, let’s win this thing,” Puck roars, stepping by to punch both of them on their shoulder plates before he steps to the far left of the zone.

“He talks a good talk,” Santana jeers from across the center line, one hand placed on her hip, “but careful with the volume, Puckerman; your baby-faced waterbender looks like he’s ready to be put down for a nap.”

“I have a spare blanket if he needs it,” volunteers Brittany from the opposite end, raising her arm in the air.

“Let’s see if you’re still laughing by the end of the round,” Puck calls out in turn, but the words die on his tongue when Blaine takes a half step forward, a silent request for Puck to stop running at the mouth. Pro-bending and politics may be as different as night and day, but both require keeping up a certain image.

Besides, judging by Kurt’s tightened fists, the extra banter might be making him more nervous. Blaine hopes that having Kurt in the center will make it easier for Puck and himself to look after him.

“Players into position,” the referee requests, thrusting his fan up into the air.

The crowd fades into white noise; Blaine lets his breath slip between his teeth in a hiss.

“Aaand there’s the bell!”

Immediately, Kurt seems shaken by the simultaneous slam of Puck’s foot on the ground and that of the Trinity’s earthbender, Quinn. As the discs go flying through the air, whizzing by their ears, the split second delay in both Kurt and Blaine backfires when Brittany sends a whip of water slamming towards their ankles. Blaine manages to dodge the attack with a jet of fire aimed at the ground.

Only a second later does he realize that he’s left Kurt vulnerable to attack.

“Ooh! It looks like the Dragonhawks’ novice is down within the first five seconds of the game. Will he recover in time to hold his ground? These girls know an opportunity when they see one-”

Seated neatly on the ground, Kurt’s eyes widen as Quinn changes focus, no longer parrying with Puck as she rolls to the side, Santana wordlessly taking her place. No less than three discs head for Kurt’s chest in quick succession, and with a desperate flail, Kurt draws up water with both arms to shield his body in a half circle, freezing the liquid in time to catch the first two discs.

Exactly like he did in practice.

The third disc manages to slip through, slamming Kurt square in the chest and sending him rolling back into the second zone with a muffled shout. Blaine starts indiscriminately firing forward as he glances quickly in Kurt’s direction - an aggravated yell from Santana tells him that his instincts are hitting something, at least - but Kurt’s on his feet before too long, skin pale and slightly off-color, but stance strong.

“Penalty for using ice in round!” the referee shouts, having spared a moment to let Kurt recover his breath before making his call. “The Dragonhawks’ waterbender must move back one zone.”

Brow knitting quickly, Blaine turns back ahead; with Kurt in the third zone, chances are that he’ll be out for the first round soon, and if they plan on holding onto the match, Blaine and Puck will have to make up for the loss.

Worried though he may be, there’s no time to watch after Kurt’s every move.

-

Getting knocked into the water has always been one of Blaine’s least favorite parts. He thinks that his determination to stay out of the icy cold water below is what makes him such a strong player.

Determination, however, isn’t always enough to keep him from falling in. Quinn must have put a different spin on that disc, or something, because before Blaine knows it, he’s plunging into the water below the platform.

The first time, he had been terrifying. Now, it’s just annoying.

When he surfaces, he notices Brittany’s turtle duck swimming towards him. Blaine flails a little, trying to get away, but the creature only seems to swim faster.

He only stops when he has a firm hold on one of Blaine’s shoulder pads.

“Dammit,” Blaine curses under his breath. “The pets aren’t distracting, they said. They’re a crowd favorite.”

He just barely manages to shake free of the turtle duck before stepping onto the elevator to rerun to the platform.

-

The bell rings at the end of their third round, all six players miraculously still on the playing field, gasping for breath and slowly drawing towards the center. With the first round won by the Trinity and the second barely claimed by the Dragonhawks, the two teams are forced to sudden elimination in order to decide the round.

“The coin toss has been won by the Dragonhawks!” the referee announces. Blaine bites down the temptation to cheer.

“Okay, everyone in,” Puck says, gesturing for them to join him as he claps a hand down on Kurt’s shoulder, shaking it to ease some of the tension away. “What’s the plan?”

“Anyone but me,” Kurt says quickly, seeming to pale further from what Blaine can see of his face through the mask. It surprises Blaine. He expected that Kurt would be fighting for the chance to be the one to break the tie.

Puck looks to Blaine.

“If it helps, I’ve seen Santana play plenty of times. I think I know how she’s going to do this.” Blaine doesn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, but he’ll do what he has to in order to take his team to victory.

“Sounds good,” Puck nods.

Blaine chances a look back over at Kurt, who seems frozen on the spot.

“Don’t worry. I got this,” Blaine says, adjusting his helmet quickly before stepping forward.

Santana breaks away from her group to join Blaine on the center ring. “I have to say, we’re all a little disappointed freshmeat didn’t volunteer. Britts wanted to give him a proper league welcome.”

“There’s always next time,” Blaine says. “Oh wait, sorry. You’re about to get eliminated. There’s always next year.” He makes sure to keep his tone low, so only Santana can hear him. Blaine may be all about keeping his image intact, but he’s not about to miss out on a pro-bending tradition.

Besides, he has the feeling that breaking his usually cool demeanor with an insult or two is likely to rile Santana. Already, they’ve managed to edge out the odds, holding on in spite of the disadvantage in having a green player.

The platform starts to rise up. Blaine still remembers the first time he was in this position. He thought he was going to fall off, or worse, lose.

But he’s learned a lot since then.

The subtleties of firebending are never clearer than in tiebreaking rounds like this. Without the distraction of the other two elements, benders are able to focus more closely on the fire itself, removing so much of the unpredictability that it normally adds to a game. There’s no way to completely control flames; they breathe, take in the very air around them, and Blaine tends to think of fire as being as alive as the benders that wield it. That sense only increases with the way fire responds to a bender’s emotions - flaring in pride, colorless when cold, or striking suddenly with brutality.

Santana speaks with her stance. Blaine sees the hit coming before he can even make out a spark. Ducking underneath the heat, he darts forward to take advantage of her momentary imbalance. She leans forward, her flames strong with the grit of her jaw, helpless to dodge when Blaine sends a quick jet of fire aimed at her ankles.

He smiles, able to hear her topple off the platform before he looks up. That, and a long string of curses before the thud.

It mirrors the way that emotions work in life, Blaine thinks. Any singular passion is easily read, and Santana practically breathes anger in her stance. Fury is powerful in driving fire, and Santana wields that strength unforgivingly in rounds, but it’s also predictable.

Frankly, Blaine is surprised that someone like Santana has lasted in the league this long.

-

They’ve won. Barely, but they’ve won.

Puck immediately pulls off his helmet and signals for the crowd to get louder. The reporters are so focused on him that they don’t notice when Blaine takes Kurt’s arm and directs them to the locker room.

Yanking his arm back from Blaine the second they’re safe inside and away from the noise, Kurt sits down on the bench, pulling off his pads as quickly as he can manage with shaking hands. One hand splays over his chest as Kurt winces, massaging the area where he was slammed in the first round. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Sounds a little like my first match,” Blaine chuckles.

Kurt quirks a brow at Blaine, gaze slightly unsteady. Gradually, some of the color seems to be returning to his face. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. I was scared out of my mind. I kept thinking that I was going to embarrass myself, my family... the whole of the Fire Nation, really.”

“I can’t imagine that kind of pressure.”

There’s an immediate temptation for Blaine to agree with Kurt, and to further impress on the fact that Kurt simply can’t imagine that level of pressure, even if he tried. Kurt has no idea what kind of scrutiny Blaine is under, both in and out of the arena. Lips parting for the retort, Blaine barely stops himself. This thing between him and Kurt, the constant need to one-up each other, it can’t be good for the team. He needs to make a conscious effort to bite his tongue.

Still, Blaine feels like he should say something, if for no other reason than to strengthen their bond as a team, but before he can, they’re interrupted.

Blaine recognizes the robes immediately. The boy at the door is Avatar Aang’s son, Tenzin. A young woman stands by his side, but Blaine can’t quite place her. As Blaine prides himself in remembering faces, this bothers him a little.

“Tenzin!” Kurt grins, lighting up at the very sight of him. “You aren’t supposed to be back here!”

Thoughts immediately derailed, Blaine’s gaze lingers on Kurt. He hasn’t seen his teammate like this before, so open and... smiley. Usually, Kurt’s lips are pressed into a thin line, often judgmental. (Not that Blaine spends a lot of time looking at Kurt’s lips.)

“Yes, well, as you know, Lin isn’t a huge fan of observing certain rules. Such as signs declaring a restricted area, for instance.”

Lin socks Kurt in the shoulder. “You were horrible out there. We kept wondering if you were going to wet yourself.” She frowns. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Don’t listen to her,” Tenzin cuts in. “You did an admirable job.”

Feeling out of place, Blaine shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He doesn’t want to interrupt Kurt’s time with his friends, even if they’re not even allowed in the team’s locker room. “I told Wes I would meet up with him after,” he tells Kurt. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kurt says, still smiling, but it’s clear that his smile isn’t meant for Blaine.

As he leaves, Blaine feels some of his frustrations with Kurt earlier start to dissipate. He hadn’t been intentionally rude. He was scared.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine catches Kurt laughing with his friends, a far cry from the boy who invaded his gym just weeks earlier. Maybe things could be different, if Blaine’s mere presence didn’t seem to annoy Kurt.

“So, that’s Blaine?” the girl asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt replies. “That’s Blaine.”

atla, klaine

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