Fic: Nightbird Meets His Match
Title: Nightbird Meets His Match
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1350
Spoilers: aired episodes
Summary: At the final meeting of his super hero club, Nightbird receives a surprise visit from a masked man. He may know the visitor's secret identity, but not his intentions. And those intentions may just sweep him off his feet.
This is total crack fic. I've missed writing you, sweet crack fic. I shall never write anything serious ever again.
It's the last meeting of the year, nearly graduation. There really isn't any need for it, though both Blaine and Sam want to be sure the younger members carry on their good work after they've gone. And so they'd agreed to meet this one last time, to stress to them the importance of their little group and all they've done for the school.
Or so Blaine had thought. That was his intention at least. Sam, well, The Blonde Chameleon, he may have had other plans all along.
And that is why what The Blonde Chameleon says after the meeting has been called to order confuses Nightbird.
“As a special surprise for our very last meeting of the year, we have a reformed criminal here to talk with us.” The Blonde Chameleon nods at Nightbird, who just looks on with a wrinkled brow. “So give it up for the world's most notorious cat burglar - who we'll leave unnamed to avoid copyright in... whatever that's called.”
“Infringement,” Nightbird tells him, readjusting his cape and looking towards the door, where The Blonde Chameleon is now headed to retrieve their secret guest. He has the sudden realization that Sam has maybe invited an actual criminal, but he shakes his head. That wouldn't involve copyright infringement of any kind. Even if the perpetrator had been a star on America's Most Wanted.
Everyone begins murmuring to one another, causing a low hum of noise that's starting to get really annoying while The Blonde Chameleon sticks his head out the door to speak with this criminal guest of his. Nightbird is just about to strike his gavel on the table and call all of his super friends to order, when The Blonde Chameleon steps back and Nightbird sees one long, shapely leg wrapped deliciously in zinging tight black leather, followed by another, and then the rest of the body and his mouth has suddenly forgotten how to form words.
Kurt... um... Catwoman (no! copyright infringement!), The Cat slinks into the room, the overhead lights reflecting off his shiny suit. Nightbird swallows and tries once again to speak. It comes out as a strangled sort of squawk, which he supposes is only fitting. Blaine... Nightbird wants to ask what he's doing here in Ohio when he has work and auditions and other important things going on, but that's not an appropriate conversation for this room. No secret identities.
The Cat steps into the centre of the room, side-eyeing Kitty (Femme Fatale!) with his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised - a look that can only mean trouble for the person on the receiving end. She looks displeased with his choice of costume. She's probably jealous because he looks so way better than her, oh my God... Blaine, Nightbird thinks he might explode through his tights in another minute. The Cat gives her a dangerous smile and runs his long clawed fingers over his leather clad hip. “You wish, honey,” he says wryly and turns away, ignoring her indignant huff.
“Well, hello,” he says, his voice low and rough. He takes in the assembled group, his hooded eyes stopping on Nightbird. He gives him a little smirk that makes Nightbird swallow and shift uncomfortably in his chair. “And thank you to The Blonde Chameleon for his lovely introduction. Unfortunately, it might be a bit of a stretch to say I'm reformed.” He looks down demurely and fingers the whip he's got strapped to his side. “I may have backslid a tiny bit recently. But who can blame me? If they didn't want to entice me, why would Tiffany's on Fifth Avenue keep hiring such out of shape security guards? Silly boys. They're so easy to outrun.”
He looks back up and smirks again as the group laughs, and Blaine sort of loves him all the more for how much he's putting into his character. Because he knows how much this group has meant to Blaine this year. It makes Blaine want to shed his Nightbird persona for just a few minutes and kiss him silly. Almost as much as he wants to jump his bones.
He's staring up so dazedly that he almost misses the movement - The Cat stalking towards him, knocking papers and his gavel by the wayside as he slides on his tummy down the table to rest, stretched out in all his tight-suited glory, in front of Nightbird.
He reaches up and runs one shiny claw down the side of Nightbird's face. “Do you think I need to be punished, little birdie?” he asks, his voice even huskier than it had been before. He runs his claw up Nightbird's chin and over his bottom lip, where he taps it three times before withdrawing his hand, using it instead as a prop for his head. He tilts his head to one side and pushes his full pink lips out in a delectable pout.
Blaine forgets all about Nightbird and swallows loudly. He knows people are talking in hushed tones all around him, but it sounds like static in his ears. “I... um... well, I suppose...” He clears his throat of the frog that is suddenly lodged inside, causing him to croak so embarrassingly. “Yes?”
Kurt's pout becomes even more pronounced. “But what if I only took one teeny, tiny little thing, hmm? Even then?”
“Well, I guess if you're sorry and you confess and give back what you took it would... Well, justice would be served.”
Kurt raises both eyebrows so that they are arched high above his little black mask and turns over onto his side, his hand still propping up his head. He slides his other hand slowly down his leg, tilting it upward, and slips his fingers into his boot, pulling out a small, light blue box. He brings it to eye level and looks down at it for a second before holding it up and fluttering his eyelashes. “And what if I took it for you?” he asks.
Blaine hears the others now as they gasp and cheer and laugh. But he can't look around to catch any of their individual reactions. All he can do is stare, his eyes wide, at the small Tiffany's ring box sitting on Kurt's black gloved palm. “Um... I would have to retract my previous, erm, statement and say that you should give it to me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “And also, I would have to say that if that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes.”
Even louder cheers erupt throughout the room and Kurt's smirk turns into a wide grin. Blaine knows that behind his mask, Kurt's eyes are crinkling at the corners and he wants to rip the thing off and kiss those crinkles. And every other inch of Kurt.
“Well then,” Kurt says. “I guess that makes me one very lucky cat, because it is.”
Blaine feels his jaw drop and can do nothing to stop it. “Oh my God,” he hears himself say. “Oh my God.”
Kurt pulls himself into sitting position and slides forward and down, seating himself in Blaine's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck amidst a chorus of whoops and catcalls. “And they say cats are taken in by shiny things,” he whispers, then licks over Blaine's lips once before pressing in with his mouth.
“It's not really from Tiffany's,” Kurt tells him after they've stopped for breath, rolling the ring box over and over in his hand.
Blaine shakes his head. “It could be a ring pop and I would still say yes.”
Kurt grins and dives back in, reconnecting their lips and running one hand through the back of Blaine's hair, metal claws scratching at his scalp.
“Just wait a minute!” he hears Kitty interject in a strident tone. “They cannot get married. This is Ohio, not Gayville. No homo.”
“Nobody asked you, you horrible excuse for a Christian,” Joe says. Everyone cheers. And Nightbird? He reaches down to surreptitiously grab himself a handful of the world's most notorious cat burglar's most luscious ass. All is well.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1350
Spoilers: aired episodes
Summary: At the final meeting of his super hero club, Nightbird receives a surprise visit from a masked man. He may know the visitor's secret identity, but not his intentions. And those intentions may just sweep him off his feet.
This is total crack fic. I've missed writing you, sweet crack fic. I shall never write anything serious ever again.
It's the last meeting of the year, nearly graduation. There really isn't any need for it, though both Blaine and Sam want to be sure the younger members carry on their good work after they've gone. And so they'd agreed to meet this one last time, to stress to them the importance of their little group and all they've done for the school.
Or so Blaine had thought. That was his intention at least. Sam, well, The Blonde Chameleon, he may have had other plans all along.
And that is why what The Blonde Chameleon says after the meeting has been called to order confuses Nightbird.
“As a special surprise for our very last meeting of the year, we have a reformed criminal here to talk with us.” The Blonde Chameleon nods at Nightbird, who just looks on with a wrinkled brow. “So give it up for the world's most notorious cat burglar - who we'll leave unnamed to avoid copyright in... whatever that's called.”
“Infringement,” Nightbird tells him, readjusting his cape and looking towards the door, where The Blonde Chameleon is now headed to retrieve their secret guest. He has the sudden realization that Sam has maybe invited an actual criminal, but he shakes his head. That wouldn't involve copyright infringement of any kind. Even if the perpetrator had been a star on America's Most Wanted.
Everyone begins murmuring to one another, causing a low hum of noise that's starting to get really annoying while The Blonde Chameleon sticks his head out the door to speak with this criminal guest of his. Nightbird is just about to strike his gavel on the table and call all of his super friends to order, when The Blonde Chameleon steps back and Nightbird sees one long, shapely leg wrapped deliciously in zinging tight black leather, followed by another, and then the rest of the body and his mouth has suddenly forgotten how to form words.
Kurt... um... Catwoman (no! copyright infringement!), The Cat slinks into the room, the overhead lights reflecting off his shiny suit. Nightbird swallows and tries once again to speak. It comes out as a strangled sort of squawk, which he supposes is only fitting. Blaine... Nightbird wants to ask what he's doing here in Ohio when he has work and auditions and other important things going on, but that's not an appropriate conversation for this room. No secret identities.
The Cat steps into the centre of the room, side-eyeing Kitty (Femme Fatale!) with his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised - a look that can only mean trouble for the person on the receiving end. She looks displeased with his choice of costume. She's probably jealous because he looks so way better than her, oh my God... Blaine, Nightbird thinks he might explode through his tights in another minute. The Cat gives her a dangerous smile and runs his long clawed fingers over his leather clad hip. “You wish, honey,” he says wryly and turns away, ignoring her indignant huff.
“Well, hello,” he says, his voice low and rough. He takes in the assembled group, his hooded eyes stopping on Nightbird. He gives him a little smirk that makes Nightbird swallow and shift uncomfortably in his chair. “And thank you to The Blonde Chameleon for his lovely introduction. Unfortunately, it might be a bit of a stretch to say I'm reformed.” He looks down demurely and fingers the whip he's got strapped to his side. “I may have backslid a tiny bit recently. But who can blame me? If they didn't want to entice me, why would Tiffany's on Fifth Avenue keep hiring such out of shape security guards? Silly boys. They're so easy to outrun.”
He looks back up and smirks again as the group laughs, and Blaine sort of loves him all the more for how much he's putting into his character. Because he knows how much this group has meant to Blaine this year. It makes Blaine want to shed his Nightbird persona for just a few minutes and kiss him silly. Almost as much as he wants to jump his bones.
He's staring up so dazedly that he almost misses the movement - The Cat stalking towards him, knocking papers and his gavel by the wayside as he slides on his tummy down the table to rest, stretched out in all his tight-suited glory, in front of Nightbird.
He reaches up and runs one shiny claw down the side of Nightbird's face. “Do you think I need to be punished, little birdie?” he asks, his voice even huskier than it had been before. He runs his claw up Nightbird's chin and over his bottom lip, where he taps it three times before withdrawing his hand, using it instead as a prop for his head. He tilts his head to one side and pushes his full pink lips out in a delectable pout.
Blaine forgets all about Nightbird and swallows loudly. He knows people are talking in hushed tones all around him, but it sounds like static in his ears. “I... um... well, I suppose...” He clears his throat of the frog that is suddenly lodged inside, causing him to croak so embarrassingly. “Yes?”
Kurt's pout becomes even more pronounced. “But what if I only took one teeny, tiny little thing, hmm? Even then?”
“Well, I guess if you're sorry and you confess and give back what you took it would... Well, justice would be served.”
Kurt raises both eyebrows so that they are arched high above his little black mask and turns over onto his side, his hand still propping up his head. He slides his other hand slowly down his leg, tilting it upward, and slips his fingers into his boot, pulling out a small, light blue box. He brings it to eye level and looks down at it for a second before holding it up and fluttering his eyelashes. “And what if I took it for you?” he asks.
Blaine hears the others now as they gasp and cheer and laugh. But he can't look around to catch any of their individual reactions. All he can do is stare, his eyes wide, at the small Tiffany's ring box sitting on Kurt's black gloved palm. “Um... I would have to retract my previous, erm, statement and say that you should give it to me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “And also, I would have to say that if that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes.”
Even louder cheers erupt throughout the room and Kurt's smirk turns into a wide grin. Blaine knows that behind his mask, Kurt's eyes are crinkling at the corners and he wants to rip the thing off and kiss those crinkles. And every other inch of Kurt.
“Well then,” Kurt says. “I guess that makes me one very lucky cat, because it is.”
Blaine feels his jaw drop and can do nothing to stop it. “Oh my God,” he hears himself say. “Oh my God.”
Kurt pulls himself into sitting position and slides forward and down, seating himself in Blaine's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck amidst a chorus of whoops and catcalls. “And they say cats are taken in by shiny things,” he whispers, then licks over Blaine's lips once before pressing in with his mouth.
“It's not really from Tiffany's,” Kurt tells him after they've stopped for breath, rolling the ring box over and over in his hand.
Blaine shakes his head. “It could be a ring pop and I would still say yes.”
Kurt grins and dives back in, reconnecting their lips and running one hand through the back of Blaine's hair, metal claws scratching at his scalp.
“Just wait a minute!” he hears Kitty interject in a strident tone. “They cannot get married. This is Ohio, not Gayville. No homo.”
“Nobody asked you, you horrible excuse for a Christian,” Joe says. Everyone cheers. And Nightbird? He reaches down to surreptitiously grab himself a handful of the world's most notorious cat burglar's most luscious ass. All is well.