through the looking glass 7/8
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: R
pairing: klaine; altverse kinn & blina
genre: borderline crack
warnings: n/a
notes: second last chapter. we're getting there.
first chapter | previous chapter
The car ride was -- well, awkward. Blaine had no other word for it, though something about the word awkward implied he wasn't using his fantastic charm to grease the wheels of socialization per usual. How did you do that here though? A flutter of the lashes, a charming aw-shucks joke about Canadians and all the mile-wide grins in the world couldn't combat this situation.
Finn, dressed in a bondage shirt from his parallel-step-brother, telling Kurt all he had missed. Kurt, eyebrows high enough to get a penthouse view, unsure of how to take statements like that smell wasn't me commingled with and then they did it. with their penises. Not-Kurt was humming something that sounded like Candy Shop while sending Blaine filthy looks, all, wanna get drinks so I can peel the label lustfully? Blaine was caught between playing along with the flirting and remembering that his boyfriend was in the back seat. Really, there was no way Blaine could forget, when every time he talked to not-Kurt ("Shit don't hit that van, there might be orphans inside!" "Orphans can't afford vans, baby.") Kurt would reach over and pinch Blaine's waist. Which wasn't sexy in the least, a little to Blaine's disappoint and a lot to his growing discomfort.
"Kurt, babe, I love you, but I'm telling our Asian couples therapist about that," Blaine finally snapped, rubbing the reddened area. Not-Kurt sniggered.
"Trouble in paradise?"
"We don't attend couples therapy, Asian or otherwise," Kurt practically snarled. "Blaine and I are in a healthy, mature relationship and I won't have him saying otherwise so he can run off into your skinny, skanky arms."
"They're like, your arms though too, aren't they?" Finn asked, quieting when Kurt turned an icy glare on him. It was so cold that the temperature in the car dropped a little and Batman and Robin's Mr Freeze was probably cracking an ice-related pun.
"Kurt, I'm not leaving you for your parallel universe self. He's just being friendly." Blaine said calmly, while not-Kurt began to hum through Rocket Ride while idly playing with the laces of Blaine's pants. Blaine shuddered. Out of fear. Not-Kurt was going to kill them and make the weirdest accident report on the face of the planet.
"Seems like flirting to me," Kurt said.
"Same thing for him, really." Blaine smacked lightly at not-Kurt's hand. "I like it better when you use two hands," he said, more than a little nervously, watching not-Kurt zoom past a stop sign. Blaine wondered if not-Kurt's driving instructor had been smitten/blind enough to mark that as a rolling stop when he was being licensed.
"No problem," not-Kurt said cheerily, performing an interesting feat of flexibility by bringing a foot up to the steering wheel while both of his hands landed in the general vicinity of Blaine's crotch (read: right on top of it.) Kurt let out an animalistic (and if Blaine was being honest, which he always was, very hot) growl and tried to dive for not-Kurt, but Finn yanked him back just in time.
Blaine threw off not-Kurt's hands while Kurt struggled against Finn's octopus-armed hold on him. "Finn, let me go, I need to tear the little slut's eyeballs out!"
"Kurt," Blaine said. "Don't be rude, and don't touch him. If you do, we'll have problems. Like, problems the size of space and time itself. Do you really want to know how the Doctor feels every day? Because trust me, it's a misery."
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, calmer. Calmer in the sense that he was no longer trying to snap Finn's arms to get at his doppelganger. Finn gently patted Kurt's leg as he held his brother, but since Kurt was no longer trying to escape it just looked like a very sweet cuddle.
"I mean I'm emphasizing with the character, not that I'm the Doctor. You've seen my sonic screwdriver," Blaine explained. Not-Kurt giggled, and Blaine rushed to add, "it's just a plastic replica." Not-Kurt giggled harder, which just impaired his driving even more. At least he was using both hands on the wheel now.
"I know that," Kurt said impatiently. "What exactly goes wrong if I touch him? Other than his ability to not bleed all over the car upholstery."
"Basically, you two can't occupy the same space. If you touch, we might get sent home."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about that until now," Kurt said with frantic disbelief to his tone. Only a slight one. Blaine thought Kurt was handling this entire situation very well.
Then Kurt threw himself at not-Kurt again, Finn's continued hold the only thing that kept them from making contact. Not-Kurt looked genuinely frightened for a second, and it was such a first that Blaine decided it was time to put his foot down. "Kurt! We don't want that to happen!"
"Don't you dare take that tone with me Blaine Anderson." Kurt hissed. "I want to go home. I want my dad, and I want my school, I want my friends. I just want my life back. Right now I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole, and it's the brown acid Disney version, and I'll tell you that it is not a good trip. Actually, no. That's a bad metaphor. It's more like, that weird acid trip from Dumbo with the extra dash of missing parents and bullies and ears that are larger than normal."
"I liked the first one better, but you definitely outshine me on the metaphor front either way," Blaine said feebly. Coming from Kurt, his last name made a Pavlov puppy out of him and Blaine couldn't help but feel he had done something very wrong. The obvious solution was to flatter his way out of trouble. "And I like your ears. They're cute."
"That's not the point. Point is, why are we hanging around this upside-down world when our ticket home is sitting there wearing my clothes." Kurt glared at not-Kurt then turned his gaze on Blaine, and some of his anger softened. "Please, Blaine."
"Kurt, I want to get you home too. But not-Brittany and -Quinn are still out there and this whole thing will just repeat itself if we don't stop them somehow." Blaine reached over, maneuvering past Finn's lanky limbs in order to find Kurt's hand and hold on tight. Kurt nodded slowly, but he looked unconvinced.
"What if we get stuck here?" Kurt looked between each of them in turn. "That's definitely one sci-fi soap opera I wouldn't want to be a part of."
"I promise you, on the sanctity of Pavarotti's tiny, bedazzled casket that I will get us home no matter what," Blaine said solemnly, and Kurt finally smiled, albeit cautiously. For a long moment they weren't in a speeding car in a parallel universe; it was just Kurt and Blaine like it always would be and always had been, the two of them in a private little world nobody could touch.
Except for not-Kurt, via benefit of being one of them, who of course decided to ruin the moment.
"Luciano doesn't really strike me the tiny, bedazzled type, but who knows." Not-Kurt spun the wheel to take a turn at deathly speed, but Blaine was comforted to at least realize they were near the Hummel-Hudson household, their destination.
"Oh shut up," Kurt sighed, slumping back against Finn. At least he didn't seem interested in fighting anymore.
"Can you guys just be nicer to each other?" Finn asked suddenly, frowning at each of them in turn. "I mean, I get that there's some weird kinda love triangle thing going on here, but in the end you and him are the same person and Blaine you should be happier about having that."
"I guess," Blaine murmured, glancing between Kurt and not-Kurt. "But seeing as how there's no chance of a threesome without breaking the laws of the universe ... and, I mean, there's no guarantee you have to like somebody who looks like you but seems to be doing things wrong."
"Did you say threesome?" Not-Kurt and Kurt said simultaneously.
"I said nothing of the sort." Blaine waved his free hand. "I only pointed out that humans don't like what they can't understand, and this is definitely a mind-bending experience."
"I think a threesome with two versions of your boyfriend would be pretty mind-bending," not-Kurt persisted, as he pulled to a screeching stop in the Hummel-Hudson driveway.
"Ignoring Merv the Perv over there," Kurt said loudly, before continuing in a more normal tone. "I think you have a point. I've been so freaked out by finding all this stuff was real that I've been behaving awfully. I'm sorry Blaine, Finn. And I guess you too, other me."
"Aw, thanks hunnybun," not-Kurt said with a flutter of his lashes as he undid his seatbelt, then got out of the car. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand again to show that he didn't blame Kurt in the least before extricating his arm from the pretzel of Kurt and Finn and getting out as well. A few moments later Kurt and Finn had untangled themselves and had joined not-Kurt and Blaine on the front porch.
"So you know, I obeyed your orders to come here, but why exactly?" Not-Kurt asked as he used his key to open the front door, ushering them inside, Blaine taking the lead. "Is there something here that could help take down Braintanny and Darkness Falls?"
"No," Blaine said, stopping in the living room and gesturing to the loveseat."But they are."
***
Not-Brittany and -Quinn had been cuddling when the group walked in, but sprang apart, shock clear on their faces. "Wait -- what? How did you know?" Not-Quinn asked.
"Isn't it clear?" Not-Brittany asked, scowling. "Other-Blaine is more genre savvy than I initially gave him credit for."
"If we dated, would you still be calling me other-Blaine? Because that hurts." Blaine wandered idly over to stand in front of the pair as they rose to their feet, but not before waving at the Kurts to stay back. Finn obviously wasn't certain if this vague hand gesture had been meant for him as well, because he hovered somewhere in between Blaine and Kurt and not- Kurt. "But yes, I guessed. Why else would the dumpster not be guarded when we came back? Obviously you were waiting for us where we least expected, which would translate as where we felt safest." Blaine grinned suddenly. "I am so good at this."
"So what if you guessed?" Not-Brittany made a dismissive noise. "We still have the advantage, with my superior intellect and Quinn's voodoo."
Blaine blinked, then frowned. "Oh yeah." He was hoping for a last minute save, to be honest.
"It's not voodoo, " not-Quinn said tensely. "It's Satanically-inclined magience. That you would mix them up is pretty offensive for voodoo practitoners everywhere."
"Oh, go start a charity," not-Brittany said, disgusted. "I don't give a shit. Voodoo, wicca-wacca, magience -- power is power no matter what you call it and I need you to use your power to blast the head off every person in this room who isn't gorgeous." Not-Brittany sent a hungry look to Blaine, who preened -- but only a little bit. He had standards, dammit.
Not-Quinn raised her eyebrows, and for the first time there was strong hint of the Ice Queen in her steely gaze. "And who would that be, mistress? I think Kurt is gorgeous, and Finn is probably pretty gorgeous to Kurt, and you're gorgeous to me, but you might not be gorgeous to Blaine."
"Gorgeous is a funny word," Finn muttered, laughing quietly. Louder, he added. "And you're way hot to me other-Quinn, even if you're like, evil or whatever."
Not-Quinn blushed. "Really? Why?"
"Why?" Finn squinted. "Your hair is like, nice, and your eyes are fun to stare into like woah! they're hypnotizing! but I mean I never get hypnotized to do the chicken dance or anything like my ninth birthday party with that asshole magician. Um. Oh yeah! Your lips have a great shape and you're a great kisser and your body is way hot, even now, and just your face, you know?" Finn beamed proudly at her, and not-Quinn got redder. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"You do realize this isn't your Quinn, right?" Kurt asked. "And you're lucky as hell that Rachel isn't here."
"I think we're all lucky for that," not-Kurt said, and Kurt laughed cattily in delight. Blaine pouted. If Brittany was his soul sister Rachel was his soul biffle.
"What does he mean, your Quinn?" Not-Brittany asked, eyes narrowed.
"Me and Quinn dated. The broke up. Then dated again. Then broke up. Then sorta dated again but not really. Now I'm dating Rachel." Finn shrugged.
"I can't believe you can remember all that but not my birthday," Kurt said. Blaine knew that Kurt was still bitter about Finn thinking the party was for himself and opening up trying on a Marc Jacobs sweater which hadn't draped properly since.
"I looked good in it dude," Finn said comfortably. Clearly wearing the bondage shirt had made him more receptive to unusual wardrobe choices.
"What's the other me like?" Not-Quinn asked. "Why would a guy like other-Finn date her?"
"She's one of those girls who likes to be in charge, likes to stand up for herself," Blaine said pointedly, staring intently at not-Quinn.
"Stop right there!" Not-Brittany said, taking a step forward and poking Blaine in the chest.
"I need somebody with a human touch," Blaine sang back.
Not-Brittany looked livid. She drove her dagger-nailed finger in deeper, and he winced. "I won't have you manipulating my minion to your side."
"Yeah," not-Quinn said, crossing her arms.
"Besides," not-Brittany continued. "You couldn't erase years of emotional and mental abuse just by giving her a you matter speech."
"Abuse?" Not-Quinn asked, voice cracking slightly. "So you mean -- it's not a sex game? You really don't respect me?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, shut up you dumb shit!" Not-Brittany shouted. "We're supposed to have a united front so we can get everything we want."
Not-Quinn's face crumpled and stumbled back, legs hitting the sofa. She looked like every inch of her heart was breaking. "Oh," she said quietly, before her spine stiffened and her chin jutted up angrily. Her gaze could deep freeze a desert. A hot desert, as the term desert could include arctic ice fields that didn't receive much rainfall, and freezing something already chilled wasn't as impressive. Either way -- it was cold. "I see how it is."
Blaine ignored the pain and leaned into not-Brittany, giving her a bright grin. "If it wasn't obvious, Geniego, you just made a huge mistake."
Not-Brittany looked between Blaine and not-Quinn, eyes wide. "It was a sex game! A sex game! Why didn't you use the safeword!"
"It seems you never told me what it was," not-Quinn hissed. "Tell me, was it don't piss off the witch? or maybe it was everything 'we' want is actually what you want. Yeah, I like that one." Not-Quinn reached up, fiddling with the pendant at her neck. "I'm not going to help you, because it's not what I want. What I want is to make things between us a little more ... equal."
Blaine quickly walked backwards as not-Brittany stared at not-Quinn in disbelief. He grabbed Finn, and pulled him over to the two Kurts, giving not-Quinn plenty of room to do her thing.
"Geniego," not-Kurt murmured into Blaine's ear. "Genius. I love it."
"What are you going to do to me?" Not-Brittany regained her confidence. "In case you don't remember, you signed a magical contract alloting me the power to stop you from using your powers. A word from me, and your magic is sealed for life."
Not-Quinn didn't answer, still fiddling with her pendant and glaring at not-Brittany.
"I'm sorry that I'll have to use it," not-Brittany said, not entirely insincere. "I thought this day would never come, that you would never betray me -- but all good things, right?" She sighed heavily, then looked up, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
"BESTRAFEN!" Not-Brittany chanted loudly, waving her arms like the Whomping Willow.
Not-Quinn stopped playing with her pendant, hands falling to her side. Her eyes dimmed a little and her chin drooped. Blaine thought it looked as if she had been powered down, pun intentional.
"This isn't good," not-Kurt whispered as not-Brittany flipped her hair. Blaine shushed him.
"So, seeing as how I just defeated your only hope ..." not-Brittany laughed. "I'll come claim my prize --" A sinister cackle cut her off, the lights flickering and a tremor passing through the air like razor wire, causing items around the room to rattle. Blaine reached out blindly and grabbed for a hand to hold, ending up with Finn's. Finn squeezed Blaine's hand tightly, and not-Kurt swore sharply behind him and Kurt grabbed Blaine's other hand.
Not-Brittany looked back over to not-Quinn, who was still standing motionless, but there was something odd happening. It was like the movie version of the Philosopher's Stone. Her skin was drying out, darkening and flaking, her clothes were disintegrating in an unsexy way, her hair was falling lank and brittle and then, horrifyingly, one of her arms simply fell off and landed with a clunk on the carpet.
Somebody screamed, though nobody there would ever confess to it. Next it was her other arm, then her now brown head rolled right off her shoulders and hit the floor. Her gaping neck wound revealed nothing but dirt, and Blaine realized what it was as it collapsed into a pile in the floor.
"A golem!" Blaine shouted, just as a large gust of wind blew in from nowhere and gathered up the remains, swirling them into a noisy, dirty whirlwind. In case everyone hadn't heard him he shouted it again, but louder. Life would be much easier if things just got quiet when he opened his mouth to reveal his intelligence and grace. "A FUCKING GOLEM!"
"WE HEARD YOU," not-Brittany yelled back, sounding like she barely had a grip on her fear. Blaine understood -- she was the only other one here who would get the implications of this creature. "But how?!" She suddenly froze, body posed unnaturally.
"Here's the thing about that contract." The whirlwind fell away to reveal not-Quinn, not just alive, but with cheeks rosied with delight and eyes that were sparking. "It only works if I'm in front of you -- and guess who learned how to make golems so she could avoid having to actually sleep with Blanderson? Guess who wanted to keep it a special surprise until today? Guess who used a golem today because she wanted to be able to protect her mistress in a dramatic, joking I'm not fatally wounded way? Guess who never expected to have her mistress to be the one to hurt her?" Not-Quinn was speaking in that eerily deep and evil voice of hers. Not-Brittany was still frozen, but her eyes were mad.
"But if you didn't sleep with other me -- how did you know about me?" Blaine piped up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Part of the story was true." Not-Quinn admitted. "Just smoke some magience herbs and get ready to astral project to many worlds. That night, while my golem did it for me, I saw your world, and you." She shrugged.
"Now," not-Quinn walked over to not-Brittany's still form. "Time for revenge. I'm a little unsure about what to do, so if the audience could help ..?"
"Put her in overalls!" Kurt suggested immediately, clearly having noticed not-Brittany's stylish outfit.
"Turn her into a frog!" Blaine believed in classics. "Or a rat! Yes please a rat! It's lesbian magic fantastic!"
"Make her never able to have sex again!" Not-Kurt declared. "Then make her want sex!"
"Yeah, make her want sex! Make out with her! Touch her boobs!" Finn said excitedly, palm sweaty against Blaine's. Blaine let go with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Ew," Blaine, Kurt and not-Kurt said, though not-Quinn made a face of consideration before shaking her head.
"No. I need something else. Something better." Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead thoughtfully. "Wait -- Kurt."
"Yes?" The Kurts replied.
"My Kurt," not-Quinn clarified. "I think you know what I need."
"Hm?" Not-Kurt leaned forward, slouching (slightly!) so his chin could rest on Blaine's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist. "Ignoring the heterosexiness of that statement, what is it you mean?"
"Remember how long ago, you told me that if I could actually do magic, I should be doing incredible things?" Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead again. "I can't quite remember what you suggested, but it was good -- I just didn't have anyone to use it on until now."
"Oh!" Not-Kurt straightened suddenly, which made him thrust against Blaine in a way that Blaine tried very hard to pretend wasn't awesome because, hello, his boyfriend had a tight grip on his poor little fingers. "I remember that! Though I don't see how that's a punishment. And sorry honey, I hate to rub in what you have to miss out on. It was sophomore year ..." as not-Kurt told his story, Blaine glanced at Kurt, who had an eyebrow raised. He had clearly picked up on that one of those sentences wasn't like the others.
Blaine made an apologetic face as not-Kurt grinded him slightly, and to his great surprise Kurt only smiled. A very tight smile, but it was better than somebody getting their eyeballs torn out.
His breath caught when Kurt shuffled closer, careful to avoid not-Kurt and murmured into his ear, "It's not your fault."
Well, Blaine was expecting something a tad hotter, but that was nice too. He pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek as his boyfriend pulled away and Kurt's smile became more natural.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your threesome," not-Quinn interrupted. "But I thought my rising up and getting vengeance against the person who's mistreated me most of my life would be of some interest." She was using such a stern teacher voice that Blaine felt like it was French class in Dalton all over again, where Kurt's handle on the language did interesting things dedans son pantalons.
"Apologies." Kurt stepped away from Blaine, but still held on to his hand. Not-Kurt was laughing softly behind them. He had stopped grinding against Blaine, at least. "Please, don't let us interfere with your revenge."
"Thank you." Not-Quinn walked around not-Brittany, chanting quietly and making hand motions that looked suspiciously like cat's cradle sans string. Then she took off her pendant, and carefully draped it over not-Brittany's head. For a moment her face was filled with longing as she brushed a hand down the curve of not-Brittany's cheek, but it vanished quickly and her features hardened. "This is for your own good, you know. Now you can't hurt anyone else and then feel bad about it when your brain reconnects with your soul."
Not-Quinn stepped away then, closed her eyes and shouted something very strange that the English alphabet would never be able to capture. (Sadly, Blaine planned to use said alphabet while writing his novel. He'd probably have to just put in a placeholder, like ABRA CADABRA!) There was a blinding flash of light, and where not-Brittany had been standing was a pile of clothes, before one tiny arm stuck out and a loud wail filled the air. Not-Quinn stepped forward, gently picking up the bundle and pulling away a sleeve to reveal the bright-red face of a squalling baby.
"Shh," not-Quinn said, bouncing the baby slightly. It calmed, and not-Quinn looked to them with a small smile.
"That's what you get from use your magic to make someone entirely at your mercy?" Not-Kurt clucked disapprovingly. "You gotta think a little sexier darling."
"I think it was a good plan," Finn said, walking forward to join not-Quinn. He looked down at the baby with a curious expression and Kurt made the same tongue-cluck of disapproval that not-Kurt had. Blaine squeezed his hand gently, knowing that deep down Kurt was just worried that Finn would end up causing more ridiculous Quinn-baby-related drama when they got back. Well. Maybe that wasn't so deep down, judging by the distasteful expression Kurt wore.
"This way she can be raised right, by parents who take the time to care for her and pay attention to her and stop her from becoming a psycho, like Norman Bates raised by Mr Rogers. Maybe she'll grow up and meet a Santana or a Quinn she can actually love, or maybe a non-douchebaggy Blaine." Not-Quinn's sighed wistfully. "And I'll check up on her."
"You won't raise her yourself?" Finn asked.
"I've had sex with her. That would be creepy." Not-Quinn said. "I would never be able to look at her and see anything but my mistress."
"She needs a new name then," not-Kurt said, wandering out from behind Blaine. "Personally, I like Stefani, or Joanne. Ooh! Angelina!"
"There's a joke there about sounds babies make but I won't be the one to make it," Kurt said sotto voice to Blaine, who sniggered.
Finn opened his mouth to suggest something, but not-Quinn cut him off. "I like Elizabeth, personally. It was my nun nana's name." Finn started, gaping at not-Quinn, who was looking down at the baby. "Beth if you're lazy. Or like KISS. Or both. Likely both."
"Isn't that a neat little bow?" Kurt commented lowly. "Knowing you, you're going to write about this. Change the ending so other-Quinn sets Brittany on fire and makes a few bad quips about never again the burning times."
"I like this, it's sweeter," Blaine said, leaning into Kurt, who laughed. He loved that Kurt knew him.
"You're just a big softie."
"You love it. You love me."
"I do." Kurt and Blaine shared another one of those moments with just them, but this time not-Kurt was too busy suggesting names for the baby to interrupt them and it lasted much longer. It was as close to perfect things could get, considering the leather was starting to chafe and Blaine's underwear were hidden in a toilet tank upstairs and Kurt smelt like a dump. With a smile, he raised Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.
"I believe it's time for me to escort my gentleman home."
next chapter
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: R
pairing: klaine; altverse kinn & blina
genre: borderline crack
warnings: n/a
notes: second last chapter. we're getting there.
first chapter | previous chapter
The car ride was -- well, awkward. Blaine had no other word for it, though something about the word awkward implied he wasn't using his fantastic charm to grease the wheels of socialization per usual. How did you do that here though? A flutter of the lashes, a charming aw-shucks joke about Canadians and all the mile-wide grins in the world couldn't combat this situation.
Finn, dressed in a bondage shirt from his parallel-step-brother, telling Kurt all he had missed. Kurt, eyebrows high enough to get a penthouse view, unsure of how to take statements like that smell wasn't me commingled with and then they did it. with their penises. Not-Kurt was humming something that sounded like Candy Shop while sending Blaine filthy looks, all, wanna get drinks so I can peel the label lustfully? Blaine was caught between playing along with the flirting and remembering that his boyfriend was in the back seat. Really, there was no way Blaine could forget, when every time he talked to not-Kurt ("Shit don't hit that van, there might be orphans inside!" "Orphans can't afford vans, baby.") Kurt would reach over and pinch Blaine's waist. Which wasn't sexy in the least, a little to Blaine's disappoint and a lot to his growing discomfort.
"Kurt, babe, I love you, but I'm telling our Asian couples therapist about that," Blaine finally snapped, rubbing the reddened area. Not-Kurt sniggered.
"Trouble in paradise?"
"We don't attend couples therapy, Asian or otherwise," Kurt practically snarled. "Blaine and I are in a healthy, mature relationship and I won't have him saying otherwise so he can run off into your skinny, skanky arms."
"They're like, your arms though too, aren't they?" Finn asked, quieting when Kurt turned an icy glare on him. It was so cold that the temperature in the car dropped a little and Batman and Robin's Mr Freeze was probably cracking an ice-related pun.
"Kurt, I'm not leaving you for your parallel universe self. He's just being friendly." Blaine said calmly, while not-Kurt began to hum through Rocket Ride while idly playing with the laces of Blaine's pants. Blaine shuddered. Out of fear. Not-Kurt was going to kill them and make the weirdest accident report on the face of the planet.
"Seems like flirting to me," Kurt said.
"Same thing for him, really." Blaine smacked lightly at not-Kurt's hand. "I like it better when you use two hands," he said, more than a little nervously, watching not-Kurt zoom past a stop sign. Blaine wondered if not-Kurt's driving instructor had been smitten/blind enough to mark that as a rolling stop when he was being licensed.
"No problem," not-Kurt said cheerily, performing an interesting feat of flexibility by bringing a foot up to the steering wheel while both of his hands landed in the general vicinity of Blaine's crotch (read: right on top of it.) Kurt let out an animalistic (and if Blaine was being honest, which he always was, very hot) growl and tried to dive for not-Kurt, but Finn yanked him back just in time.
Blaine threw off not-Kurt's hands while Kurt struggled against Finn's octopus-armed hold on him. "Finn, let me go, I need to tear the little slut's eyeballs out!"
"Kurt," Blaine said. "Don't be rude, and don't touch him. If you do, we'll have problems. Like, problems the size of space and time itself. Do you really want to know how the Doctor feels every day? Because trust me, it's a misery."
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, calmer. Calmer in the sense that he was no longer trying to snap Finn's arms to get at his doppelganger. Finn gently patted Kurt's leg as he held his brother, but since Kurt was no longer trying to escape it just looked like a very sweet cuddle.
"I mean I'm emphasizing with the character, not that I'm the Doctor. You've seen my sonic screwdriver," Blaine explained. Not-Kurt giggled, and Blaine rushed to add, "it's just a plastic replica." Not-Kurt giggled harder, which just impaired his driving even more. At least he was using both hands on the wheel now.
"I know that," Kurt said impatiently. "What exactly goes wrong if I touch him? Other than his ability to not bleed all over the car upholstery."
"Basically, you two can't occupy the same space. If you touch, we might get sent home."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about that until now," Kurt said with frantic disbelief to his tone. Only a slight one. Blaine thought Kurt was handling this entire situation very well.
Then Kurt threw himself at not-Kurt again, Finn's continued hold the only thing that kept them from making contact. Not-Kurt looked genuinely frightened for a second, and it was such a first that Blaine decided it was time to put his foot down. "Kurt! We don't want that to happen!"
"Don't you dare take that tone with me Blaine Anderson." Kurt hissed. "I want to go home. I want my dad, and I want my school, I want my friends. I just want my life back. Right now I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole, and it's the brown acid Disney version, and I'll tell you that it is not a good trip. Actually, no. That's a bad metaphor. It's more like, that weird acid trip from Dumbo with the extra dash of missing parents and bullies and ears that are larger than normal."
"I liked the first one better, but you definitely outshine me on the metaphor front either way," Blaine said feebly. Coming from Kurt, his last name made a Pavlov puppy out of him and Blaine couldn't help but feel he had done something very wrong. The obvious solution was to flatter his way out of trouble. "And I like your ears. They're cute."
"That's not the point. Point is, why are we hanging around this upside-down world when our ticket home is sitting there wearing my clothes." Kurt glared at not-Kurt then turned his gaze on Blaine, and some of his anger softened. "Please, Blaine."
"Kurt, I want to get you home too. But not-Brittany and -Quinn are still out there and this whole thing will just repeat itself if we don't stop them somehow." Blaine reached over, maneuvering past Finn's lanky limbs in order to find Kurt's hand and hold on tight. Kurt nodded slowly, but he looked unconvinced.
"What if we get stuck here?" Kurt looked between each of them in turn. "That's definitely one sci-fi soap opera I wouldn't want to be a part of."
"I promise you, on the sanctity of Pavarotti's tiny, bedazzled casket that I will get us home no matter what," Blaine said solemnly, and Kurt finally smiled, albeit cautiously. For a long moment they weren't in a speeding car in a parallel universe; it was just Kurt and Blaine like it always would be and always had been, the two of them in a private little world nobody could touch.
Except for not-Kurt, via benefit of being one of them, who of course decided to ruin the moment.
"Luciano doesn't really strike me the tiny, bedazzled type, but who knows." Not-Kurt spun the wheel to take a turn at deathly speed, but Blaine was comforted to at least realize they were near the Hummel-Hudson household, their destination.
"Oh shut up," Kurt sighed, slumping back against Finn. At least he didn't seem interested in fighting anymore.
"Can you guys just be nicer to each other?" Finn asked suddenly, frowning at each of them in turn. "I mean, I get that there's some weird kinda love triangle thing going on here, but in the end you and him are the same person and Blaine you should be happier about having that."
"I guess," Blaine murmured, glancing between Kurt and not-Kurt. "But seeing as how there's no chance of a threesome without breaking the laws of the universe ... and, I mean, there's no guarantee you have to like somebody who looks like you but seems to be doing things wrong."
"Did you say threesome?" Not-Kurt and Kurt said simultaneously.
"I said nothing of the sort." Blaine waved his free hand. "I only pointed out that humans don't like what they can't understand, and this is definitely a mind-bending experience."
"I think a threesome with two versions of your boyfriend would be pretty mind-bending," not-Kurt persisted, as he pulled to a screeching stop in the Hummel-Hudson driveway.
"Ignoring Merv the Perv over there," Kurt said loudly, before continuing in a more normal tone. "I think you have a point. I've been so freaked out by finding all this stuff was real that I've been behaving awfully. I'm sorry Blaine, Finn. And I guess you too, other me."
"Aw, thanks hunnybun," not-Kurt said with a flutter of his lashes as he undid his seatbelt, then got out of the car. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand again to show that he didn't blame Kurt in the least before extricating his arm from the pretzel of Kurt and Finn and getting out as well. A few moments later Kurt and Finn had untangled themselves and had joined not-Kurt and Blaine on the front porch.
"So you know, I obeyed your orders to come here, but why exactly?" Not-Kurt asked as he used his key to open the front door, ushering them inside, Blaine taking the lead. "Is there something here that could help take down Braintanny and Darkness Falls?"
"No," Blaine said, stopping in the living room and gesturing to the loveseat."But they are."
***
Not-Brittany and -Quinn had been cuddling when the group walked in, but sprang apart, shock clear on their faces. "Wait -- what? How did you know?" Not-Quinn asked.
"Isn't it clear?" Not-Brittany asked, scowling. "Other-Blaine is more genre savvy than I initially gave him credit for."
"If we dated, would you still be calling me other-Blaine? Because that hurts." Blaine wandered idly over to stand in front of the pair as they rose to their feet, but not before waving at the Kurts to stay back. Finn obviously wasn't certain if this vague hand gesture had been meant for him as well, because he hovered somewhere in between Blaine and Kurt and not- Kurt. "But yes, I guessed. Why else would the dumpster not be guarded when we came back? Obviously you were waiting for us where we least expected, which would translate as where we felt safest." Blaine grinned suddenly. "I am so good at this."
"So what if you guessed?" Not-Brittany made a dismissive noise. "We still have the advantage, with my superior intellect and Quinn's voodoo."
Blaine blinked, then frowned. "Oh yeah." He was hoping for a last minute save, to be honest.
"It's not voodoo, " not-Quinn said tensely. "It's Satanically-inclined magience. That you would mix them up is pretty offensive for voodoo practitoners everywhere."
"Oh, go start a charity," not-Brittany said, disgusted. "I don't give a shit. Voodoo, wicca-wacca, magience -- power is power no matter what you call it and I need you to use your power to blast the head off every person in this room who isn't gorgeous." Not-Brittany sent a hungry look to Blaine, who preened -- but only a little bit. He had standards, dammit.
Not-Quinn raised her eyebrows, and for the first time there was strong hint of the Ice Queen in her steely gaze. "And who would that be, mistress? I think Kurt is gorgeous, and Finn is probably pretty gorgeous to Kurt, and you're gorgeous to me, but you might not be gorgeous to Blaine."
"Gorgeous is a funny word," Finn muttered, laughing quietly. Louder, he added. "And you're way hot to me other-Quinn, even if you're like, evil or whatever."
Not-Quinn blushed. "Really? Why?"
"Why?" Finn squinted. "Your hair is like, nice, and your eyes are fun to stare into like woah! they're hypnotizing! but I mean I never get hypnotized to do the chicken dance or anything like my ninth birthday party with that asshole magician. Um. Oh yeah! Your lips have a great shape and you're a great kisser and your body is way hot, even now, and just your face, you know?" Finn beamed proudly at her, and not-Quinn got redder. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"You do realize this isn't your Quinn, right?" Kurt asked. "And you're lucky as hell that Rachel isn't here."
"I think we're all lucky for that," not-Kurt said, and Kurt laughed cattily in delight. Blaine pouted. If Brittany was his soul sister Rachel was his soul biffle.
"What does he mean, your Quinn?" Not-Brittany asked, eyes narrowed.
"Me and Quinn dated. The broke up. Then dated again. Then broke up. Then sorta dated again but not really. Now I'm dating Rachel." Finn shrugged.
"I can't believe you can remember all that but not my birthday," Kurt said. Blaine knew that Kurt was still bitter about Finn thinking the party was for himself and opening up trying on a Marc Jacobs sweater which hadn't draped properly since.
"I looked good in it dude," Finn said comfortably. Clearly wearing the bondage shirt had made him more receptive to unusual wardrobe choices.
"What's the other me like?" Not-Quinn asked. "Why would a guy like other-Finn date her?"
"She's one of those girls who likes to be in charge, likes to stand up for herself," Blaine said pointedly, staring intently at not-Quinn.
"Stop right there!" Not-Brittany said, taking a step forward and poking Blaine in the chest.
"I need somebody with a human touch," Blaine sang back.
Not-Brittany looked livid. She drove her dagger-nailed finger in deeper, and he winced. "I won't have you manipulating my minion to your side."
"Yeah," not-Quinn said, crossing her arms.
"Besides," not-Brittany continued. "You couldn't erase years of emotional and mental abuse just by giving her a you matter speech."
"Abuse?" Not-Quinn asked, voice cracking slightly. "So you mean -- it's not a sex game? You really don't respect me?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, shut up you dumb shit!" Not-Brittany shouted. "We're supposed to have a united front so we can get everything we want."
Not-Quinn's face crumpled and stumbled back, legs hitting the sofa. She looked like every inch of her heart was breaking. "Oh," she said quietly, before her spine stiffened and her chin jutted up angrily. Her gaze could deep freeze a desert. A hot desert, as the term desert could include arctic ice fields that didn't receive much rainfall, and freezing something already chilled wasn't as impressive. Either way -- it was cold. "I see how it is."
Blaine ignored the pain and leaned into not-Brittany, giving her a bright grin. "If it wasn't obvious, Geniego, you just made a huge mistake."
Not-Brittany looked between Blaine and not-Quinn, eyes wide. "It was a sex game! A sex game! Why didn't you use the safeword!"
"It seems you never told me what it was," not-Quinn hissed. "Tell me, was it don't piss off the witch? or maybe it was everything 'we' want is actually what you want. Yeah, I like that one." Not-Quinn reached up, fiddling with the pendant at her neck. "I'm not going to help you, because it's not what I want. What I want is to make things between us a little more ... equal."
Blaine quickly walked backwards as not-Brittany stared at not-Quinn in disbelief. He grabbed Finn, and pulled him over to the two Kurts, giving not-Quinn plenty of room to do her thing.
"Geniego," not-Kurt murmured into Blaine's ear. "Genius. I love it."
"What are you going to do to me?" Not-Brittany regained her confidence. "In case you don't remember, you signed a magical contract alloting me the power to stop you from using your powers. A word from me, and your magic is sealed for life."
Not-Quinn didn't answer, still fiddling with her pendant and glaring at not-Brittany.
"I'm sorry that I'll have to use it," not-Brittany said, not entirely insincere. "I thought this day would never come, that you would never betray me -- but all good things, right?" She sighed heavily, then looked up, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
"BESTRAFEN!" Not-Brittany chanted loudly, waving her arms like the Whomping Willow.
Not-Quinn stopped playing with her pendant, hands falling to her side. Her eyes dimmed a little and her chin drooped. Blaine thought it looked as if she had been powered down, pun intentional.
"This isn't good," not-Kurt whispered as not-Brittany flipped her hair. Blaine shushed him.
"So, seeing as how I just defeated your only hope ..." not-Brittany laughed. "I'll come claim my prize --" A sinister cackle cut her off, the lights flickering and a tremor passing through the air like razor wire, causing items around the room to rattle. Blaine reached out blindly and grabbed for a hand to hold, ending up with Finn's. Finn squeezed Blaine's hand tightly, and not-Kurt swore sharply behind him and Kurt grabbed Blaine's other hand.
Not-Brittany looked back over to not-Quinn, who was still standing motionless, but there was something odd happening. It was like the movie version of the Philosopher's Stone. Her skin was drying out, darkening and flaking, her clothes were disintegrating in an unsexy way, her hair was falling lank and brittle and then, horrifyingly, one of her arms simply fell off and landed with a clunk on the carpet.
Somebody screamed, though nobody there would ever confess to it. Next it was her other arm, then her now brown head rolled right off her shoulders and hit the floor. Her gaping neck wound revealed nothing but dirt, and Blaine realized what it was as it collapsed into a pile in the floor.
"A golem!" Blaine shouted, just as a large gust of wind blew in from nowhere and gathered up the remains, swirling them into a noisy, dirty whirlwind. In case everyone hadn't heard him he shouted it again, but louder. Life would be much easier if things just got quiet when he opened his mouth to reveal his intelligence and grace. "A FUCKING GOLEM!"
"WE HEARD YOU," not-Brittany yelled back, sounding like she barely had a grip on her fear. Blaine understood -- she was the only other one here who would get the implications of this creature. "But how?!" She suddenly froze, body posed unnaturally.
"Here's the thing about that contract." The whirlwind fell away to reveal not-Quinn, not just alive, but with cheeks rosied with delight and eyes that were sparking. "It only works if I'm in front of you -- and guess who learned how to make golems so she could avoid having to actually sleep with Blanderson? Guess who wanted to keep it a special surprise until today? Guess who used a golem today because she wanted to be able to protect her mistress in a dramatic, joking I'm not fatally wounded way? Guess who never expected to have her mistress to be the one to hurt her?" Not-Quinn was speaking in that eerily deep and evil voice of hers. Not-Brittany was still frozen, but her eyes were mad.
"But if you didn't sleep with other me -- how did you know about me?" Blaine piped up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Part of the story was true." Not-Quinn admitted. "Just smoke some magience herbs and get ready to astral project to many worlds. That night, while my golem did it for me, I saw your world, and you." She shrugged.
"Now," not-Quinn walked over to not-Brittany's still form. "Time for revenge. I'm a little unsure about what to do, so if the audience could help ..?"
"Put her in overalls!" Kurt suggested immediately, clearly having noticed not-Brittany's stylish outfit.
"Turn her into a frog!" Blaine believed in classics. "Or a rat! Yes please a rat! It's lesbian magic fantastic!"
"Make her never able to have sex again!" Not-Kurt declared. "Then make her want sex!"
"Yeah, make her want sex! Make out with her! Touch her boobs!" Finn said excitedly, palm sweaty against Blaine's. Blaine let go with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Ew," Blaine, Kurt and not-Kurt said, though not-Quinn made a face of consideration before shaking her head.
"No. I need something else. Something better." Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead thoughtfully. "Wait -- Kurt."
"Yes?" The Kurts replied.
"My Kurt," not-Quinn clarified. "I think you know what I need."
"Hm?" Not-Kurt leaned forward, slouching (slightly!) so his chin could rest on Blaine's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist. "Ignoring the heterosexiness of that statement, what is it you mean?"
"Remember how long ago, you told me that if I could actually do magic, I should be doing incredible things?" Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead again. "I can't quite remember what you suggested, but it was good -- I just didn't have anyone to use it on until now."
"Oh!" Not-Kurt straightened suddenly, which made him thrust against Blaine in a way that Blaine tried very hard to pretend wasn't awesome because, hello, his boyfriend had a tight grip on his poor little fingers. "I remember that! Though I don't see how that's a punishment. And sorry honey, I hate to rub in what you have to miss out on. It was sophomore year ..." as not-Kurt told his story, Blaine glanced at Kurt, who had an eyebrow raised. He had clearly picked up on that one of those sentences wasn't like the others.
Blaine made an apologetic face as not-Kurt grinded him slightly, and to his great surprise Kurt only smiled. A very tight smile, but it was better than somebody getting their eyeballs torn out.
His breath caught when Kurt shuffled closer, careful to avoid not-Kurt and murmured into his ear, "It's not your fault."
Well, Blaine was expecting something a tad hotter, but that was nice too. He pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek as his boyfriend pulled away and Kurt's smile became more natural.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your threesome," not-Quinn interrupted. "But I thought my rising up and getting vengeance against the person who's mistreated me most of my life would be of some interest." She was using such a stern teacher voice that Blaine felt like it was French class in Dalton all over again, where Kurt's handle on the language did interesting things dedans son pantalons.
"Apologies." Kurt stepped away from Blaine, but still held on to his hand. Not-Kurt was laughing softly behind them. He had stopped grinding against Blaine, at least. "Please, don't let us interfere with your revenge."
"Thank you." Not-Quinn walked around not-Brittany, chanting quietly and making hand motions that looked suspiciously like cat's cradle sans string. Then she took off her pendant, and carefully draped it over not-Brittany's head. For a moment her face was filled with longing as she brushed a hand down the curve of not-Brittany's cheek, but it vanished quickly and her features hardened. "This is for your own good, you know. Now you can't hurt anyone else and then feel bad about it when your brain reconnects with your soul."
Not-Quinn stepped away then, closed her eyes and shouted something very strange that the English alphabet would never be able to capture. (Sadly, Blaine planned to use said alphabet while writing his novel. He'd probably have to just put in a placeholder, like ABRA CADABRA!) There was a blinding flash of light, and where not-Brittany had been standing was a pile of clothes, before one tiny arm stuck out and a loud wail filled the air. Not-Quinn stepped forward, gently picking up the bundle and pulling away a sleeve to reveal the bright-red face of a squalling baby.
"Shh," not-Quinn said, bouncing the baby slightly. It calmed, and not-Quinn looked to them with a small smile.
"That's what you get from use your magic to make someone entirely at your mercy?" Not-Kurt clucked disapprovingly. "You gotta think a little sexier darling."
"I think it was a good plan," Finn said, walking forward to join not-Quinn. He looked down at the baby with a curious expression and Kurt made the same tongue-cluck of disapproval that not-Kurt had. Blaine squeezed his hand gently, knowing that deep down Kurt was just worried that Finn would end up causing more ridiculous Quinn-baby-related drama when they got back. Well. Maybe that wasn't so deep down, judging by the distasteful expression Kurt wore.
"This way she can be raised right, by parents who take the time to care for her and pay attention to her and stop her from becoming a psycho, like Norman Bates raised by Mr Rogers. Maybe she'll grow up and meet a Santana or a Quinn she can actually love, or maybe a non-douchebaggy Blaine." Not-Quinn's sighed wistfully. "And I'll check up on her."
"You won't raise her yourself?" Finn asked.
"I've had sex with her. That would be creepy." Not-Quinn said. "I would never be able to look at her and see anything but my mistress."
"She needs a new name then," not-Kurt said, wandering out from behind Blaine. "Personally, I like Stefani, or Joanne. Ooh! Angelina!"
"There's a joke there about sounds babies make but I won't be the one to make it," Kurt said sotto voice to Blaine, who sniggered.
Finn opened his mouth to suggest something, but not-Quinn cut him off. "I like Elizabeth, personally. It was my nun nana's name." Finn started, gaping at not-Quinn, who was looking down at the baby. "Beth if you're lazy. Or like KISS. Or both. Likely both."
"Isn't that a neat little bow?" Kurt commented lowly. "Knowing you, you're going to write about this. Change the ending so other-Quinn sets Brittany on fire and makes a few bad quips about never again the burning times."
"I like this, it's sweeter," Blaine said, leaning into Kurt, who laughed. He loved that Kurt knew him.
"You're just a big softie."
"You love it. You love me."
"I do." Kurt and Blaine shared another one of those moments with just them, but this time not-Kurt was too busy suggesting names for the baby to interrupt them and it lasted much longer. It was as close to perfect things could get, considering the leather was starting to chafe and Blaine's underwear were hidden in a toilet tank upstairs and Kurt smelt like a dump. With a smile, he raised Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.
"I believe it's time for me to escort my gentleman home."
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