Fic: To Borrow A Heart (1/?)
Prompt: au where Blaine is a wee little borrower who keeps stealing Kurt’s stylish buttons, using tiny scraps of fabric to make bow ties and hanging out on Kurt’s vanity because it ~ smells nice
A/N: I will be posting this fic here, and here on tumblr. This is turning into a monster, so I'm not sure how long it'll be as of yet. Before you freak out there will be no romance between little!Blaine and Kurt. It'll be explained as the story continues. Let's just say that this is very AU. Burt never married Carole after the basement incident, but they did move to a new house. Dalton obviously never happened. Canon wise this probably takes place late season two-ish, but nothing is mentioned.
New big people had moved into the house.
Which was good, because after the old ones moved, Blaine hadn’t been sure if he could stay long. They’d emptied everything out, and while they had forgotten a few knick knacks here and there, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive for long with nothing around to borrow.
So when the new ones moved in, he felt relieved. He’d been down to his last pea, the one that was a bit scrunchy and dry. So yay for new people.
He liked to watch them, because he was curious and they didn’t yell like the last ones had. They spoke in soft and gruff tones.
One was scary looking and stomped around with heavy footfalls, and he’d sent Blaine running the first time he’d heard him. But he didn’t seem mean, per se, and he had a warm laugh. Blaine still found him slightly frightening, though.
The other one was younger, obviously, and kind of… really pretty. He had a sweet voice, light feet and a soft laugh, not that he laughed often. The more Blaine watched, he came to see that he actually seemed kind of sad. Maybe he didn’t like the house.
Within the first week, he picked up their names. Burt and Kurt. Burt-Kurt. Blaine might have giggled a bit at that, but nobody heard him, so it wasn’t like anyone could prove it.
Kurt - the gentle one - was his favourite. If his parents had been around, they’d probably scold him for watching. Borrowers borrow, they’re not called watchers for a reason.
And Blaine did borrow. He borrowed forgotten food, fibers and splinters to his nest - because it wasn’t a house, and not really a room. It didn’t feel like a home, either. He’d overheard something about nests on the TV once, and he liked that idea.
He liked to borrow scraps of fabric and threads that Kurt left behind, to make clothes of. Blaine probably wasn’t very good at making them, but the fabric felt nice and he thought it vaguely looked like the clothes in some of Kurt’s big magazines that he sometimes saw. His favourite thing was bow-ties. Kurt wore them sometimes, so that’s where he got the idea.
They looked neat. Like, super neat. So once when Kurt had dropped a tiny piece of red fabric, Blaine got it and made his own bow.
It did look really, really neat.
After a while when the family had settled and all the big boxes were gone, Blaine found that Kurt’s room was the best one. It had soft colours, interesting things to look at, good music and most of all; it smelled safe. The best place was the vanity-thing Kurt sat at every morning and night, putting odd little creams on his skin.
So sometimes when Kurt was asleep in his bed, Blaine would slowly, carefully climb up on the vanity and sit on one of the many jars, sometimes watching Kurt and sometimes just taking in the nice, safe smell that lingered there.
Some nights, Kurt cried himself to sleep, and all Blaine wanted to do was to go up and hold him. But of course he couldn’t - because was too little, for one, and besides, Kurt didn’t know he existed.
During these nights Blaine went up into the big bed, ever so quietly, when he was sure Kurt was properly asleep. Sometimes he patted his hand, and sometimes he tried to push back his hair from his forehead like he’d seen Burt do. He couldn’t hug him, but he could make sure Kurt wasn’t alone.
When he went to bed himself those nights, in his little nest in one of the hollow walls, his heart ached.
He got the feeling that maybe Kurt wasn’t very happy at that school thing he’d heard about. He always came home looking worn and tired. Sometimes there were girls with him, loud, somewhat scary ones, but they made Kurt smile and laugh so Blaine figured they were good people.
During the day when Kurt and Burt were both out, he’d go to the kitchen and borrow some food, and he’d look around in the other rooms for overlooked, forgotten things as well. Mostly he sat on Kurt’s vanity until he heard the front door open.
Eventually, he learned that when Kurt was poured over a book, he got really focused and Blaine could move around his room freely if he was quiet. Kurt would wear a concentrated expression and sometimes his tongue poked out just the tiniest bit, and Blaine thought it was adorable.
He could easily gather fabric and threads during these times - better than he ever could at night, because of the light. And Kurt usually cleared away the fabric whenever he finished with it, anyway. This was the best time.
It was, however, during one of these times, that the accident happened.
A/N: I will be posting this fic here, and here on tumblr. This is turning into a monster, so I'm not sure how long it'll be as of yet. Before you freak out there will be no romance between little!Blaine and Kurt. It'll be explained as the story continues. Let's just say that this is very AU. Burt never married Carole after the basement incident, but they did move to a new house. Dalton obviously never happened. Canon wise this probably takes place late season two-ish, but nothing is mentioned.
New big people had moved into the house.
Which was good, because after the old ones moved, Blaine hadn’t been sure if he could stay long. They’d emptied everything out, and while they had forgotten a few knick knacks here and there, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive for long with nothing around to borrow.
So when the new ones moved in, he felt relieved. He’d been down to his last pea, the one that was a bit scrunchy and dry. So yay for new people.
He liked to watch them, because he was curious and they didn’t yell like the last ones had. They spoke in soft and gruff tones.
One was scary looking and stomped around with heavy footfalls, and he’d sent Blaine running the first time he’d heard him. But he didn’t seem mean, per se, and he had a warm laugh. Blaine still found him slightly frightening, though.
The other one was younger, obviously, and kind of… really pretty. He had a sweet voice, light feet and a soft laugh, not that he laughed often. The more Blaine watched, he came to see that he actually seemed kind of sad. Maybe he didn’t like the house.
Within the first week, he picked up their names. Burt and Kurt. Burt-Kurt. Blaine might have giggled a bit at that, but nobody heard him, so it wasn’t like anyone could prove it.
Kurt - the gentle one - was his favourite. If his parents had been around, they’d probably scold him for watching. Borrowers borrow, they’re not called watchers for a reason.
And Blaine did borrow. He borrowed forgotten food, fibers and splinters to his nest - because it wasn’t a house, and not really a room. It didn’t feel like a home, either. He’d overheard something about nests on the TV once, and he liked that idea.
He liked to borrow scraps of fabric and threads that Kurt left behind, to make clothes of. Blaine probably wasn’t very good at making them, but the fabric felt nice and he thought it vaguely looked like the clothes in some of Kurt’s big magazines that he sometimes saw. His favourite thing was bow-ties. Kurt wore them sometimes, so that’s where he got the idea.
They looked neat. Like, super neat. So once when Kurt had dropped a tiny piece of red fabric, Blaine got it and made his own bow.
It did look really, really neat.
After a while when the family had settled and all the big boxes were gone, Blaine found that Kurt’s room was the best one. It had soft colours, interesting things to look at, good music and most of all; it smelled safe. The best place was the vanity-thing Kurt sat at every morning and night, putting odd little creams on his skin.
So sometimes when Kurt was asleep in his bed, Blaine would slowly, carefully climb up on the vanity and sit on one of the many jars, sometimes watching Kurt and sometimes just taking in the nice, safe smell that lingered there.
Some nights, Kurt cried himself to sleep, and all Blaine wanted to do was to go up and hold him. But of course he couldn’t - because was too little, for one, and besides, Kurt didn’t know he existed.
During these nights Blaine went up into the big bed, ever so quietly, when he was sure Kurt was properly asleep. Sometimes he patted his hand, and sometimes he tried to push back his hair from his forehead like he’d seen Burt do. He couldn’t hug him, but he could make sure Kurt wasn’t alone.
When he went to bed himself those nights, in his little nest in one of the hollow walls, his heart ached.
He got the feeling that maybe Kurt wasn’t very happy at that school thing he’d heard about. He always came home looking worn and tired. Sometimes there were girls with him, loud, somewhat scary ones, but they made Kurt smile and laugh so Blaine figured they were good people.
During the day when Kurt and Burt were both out, he’d go to the kitchen and borrow some food, and he’d look around in the other rooms for overlooked, forgotten things as well. Mostly he sat on Kurt’s vanity until he heard the front door open.
Eventually, he learned that when Kurt was poured over a book, he got really focused and Blaine could move around his room freely if he was quiet. Kurt would wear a concentrated expression and sometimes his tongue poked out just the tiniest bit, and Blaine thought it was adorable.
He could easily gather fabric and threads during these times - better than he ever could at night, because of the light. And Kurt usually cleared away the fabric whenever he finished with it, anyway. This was the best time.
It was, however, during one of these times, that the accident happened.