CHAPTER 15

The whole house smelled like sugar and spice. Christmas music was flowing from the radio. Fairy lights in the hall twinkled merrily. Kurt pulled the last batch of colorful swirl cookies out of the oven and let out a happy sigh.

"Okay, we're done. Now all that's left is to enjoy our Christmas Eve. Would you like a cookie?"

Blaine shook his head, his cheeks pink from the heat. "No, thank you. I'm still full from dinner. Do you need me to help you with anything else tonight?"

Kurt scooped a small pile of cookies onto a plate. "If you could just take these to the living room, I'll be there in a moment. We've definitely earned the rest of the night off."

Blaine carefully picked up the plate and walked out of the kitchen.

Kurt followed him a few minutes later, five cups of hot chocolate steaming on the tray. When he entered the living room, his family was busy trying to pick movies to watch for the evening.

"Kurt, back me up," Carole exclaimed from her place on the sofa where she was tucked against her husband's side. "It's two against one here."

Kurt grinned. "Let me guess, dad and Finn want Die Hard and Home Alone again?"

"Yes!" Carole groaned. "I proposed Love, Actually and Mamma Mia."

"I'm with you, obviously," Kurt said immediately.

"Oh but see, it's still two against two." His dad smirked with amused satisfaction. "We're at a stalemate, looks like we'll have to compromise."

Kurt arched his eyebrows over the cups he was setting on their Christmas coasters.

"Ah, not so fast. I'm sure Blaine will agree that love, singing and dancing are much more fun to watch on Christmas Eve than terrorists or clumsy robbers with a fixation. Won't you, Blaine?"

When there was no answer, he straightened up and actually looked around the room, frowning.

"Where's Blaine?"

Finn shrugged with his mouth full of crunchy goodness. "He brought the cookies and left."

"Why?"

"Dunno. He didn't, like, say anything."

The tray forgotten on the table, Kurt rushed to Blaine's room. The door was closed, but there was light visible underneath. He knocked.

"Blaine? Are you in there?"

There was a whisper of paper and a startled, "Yes, of course. Please come in."

Blaine was sitting on the edge of his bed, straight-backed and alert, a book on the sheets beside him.

"What are you doing in here?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, I haven't finished today's chapter in my book yet, so I'm doing it now before I go to bed. Did you need me for anything else?"

Kurt frowned. "Well, I hoped you would come sit with us, watch a movie, drink some hot chocolate. It's Christmas Eve after all."

"Oh, I couldn't." Blaine looked down at his hands.

"Why not?"

"It's not my place to be there," Blaine said simply. "Christmas is family time."

"And you're family now, Blaine."

Kurt jumped at his dad's voice right by his side. He hadn't even noticed Burt follow him.

Blaine's head snapped up. He was on his feet instantly and Kurt could see the way his legs buckled slightly with a lifelong instinct to fall to his knees when spoken to. In the end, he simply looked down in deference.

"Sir?"

"Sit down, kid."

Blaine perched on the very edge of the bed again as Burt walked into the room and settled on the chair opposite, his elbows on his knees. Kurt stayed in the doorway, watching.

"Blaine, was this how you spent Christmas before?" Burt asked gently. "Out of sight, out of the way?"

Blaine nodded. "Yes, Sir. I helped with the preparations when I was told to, but Christmas itself was usually quiet time alone for us slaves."

"Have you ever truly celebrated it since you left home?"

Blaine smiled shyly, his face lighting up with a sweet memory. "Once, Sir. There was a group of us one year, and our master went away with his parents for Christmas. There was food left for us and everything, it was wonderful."

Kurt remembered. "Was it when you were with Nick?"

Blaine nodded, his smile growing. "Yes, Kurt."

Seeing his dad's questioning gaze, Kurt explained. "Nick is a slave we met when we went to see Doctor Holland. Turns out he and Blaine were friends for a while when they shared a master. He and his owner, Jeff, are coming over in a couple of days so the boys can spend some time together. Sorry, I meant to tell you."

His dad looked at him thoughtfully. "Okay," he said eventually. "If you met them at Doctor Holland's, I'm sure it's alright."

Then he looked back at Blaine. "You see kid, we don't treat our slaves the way most owners do."

Blaine nodded fervently. "Oh, I know, Sir! You are really good to me, Sir."

"We are just decent people, Blaine. Our slaves become part of our family the moment they cross our threshold. And family means caring about each other and spending time together."

Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes, silent. Burt leaned forward to lay his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You're family now, Blaine. Tomorrow, we're having Christmas dinner with all the other slaves at the garage, and you are coming with us. No hiding in your room, okay?"

Blaine nodded, a hint of a smile raising the corners of his lips.

"Good," Burt said. "And now, I'd like you to come have a nice family night with us."

"Yes Sir," Blaine breathed.

Kurt couldn't hold in a grin at how adorable Blaine looked, stunned and bright-eyed like a child on a Christmas morning. Which wasn't that far from the truth. He couldn't wait to see Blaine's face when he opened his presents tomorrow.

They ended up watching Mamma Mia and then Home Alone, an unavoidable compromise, but Kurt didn't even care. He was too busy sneaking glances at Blaine's reactions anyway.

Christmas gifts in the Hummel-Hudson household were usually exchanged late in the morning, after a leisurely breakfast. This year, it was almost noon before they were done cleaning up after the meal and gathered in the living room. Blaine was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, unsure if he was really welcome here. He was taking in the sparkling Christmas tree with the colorful gifts underneath like it was the most beautiful view he'd ever seen. Kurt took him by the hand and pulled him into the room, sitting him down on the floor by his side as Finn reached for the first packages to distribute.

Kurt loved giving gifts. He enjoyed receiving them too, of course, but there was definitely much more pleasure in watching the reactions to his carefully chosen presents. Now, with his parents focused on unwrapping their gifts for each other on the couch, and Finn already trying out his newest handheld console, Kurt's full attention was on Blaine.

Blaine, who was watching the two gold-wrapped packages in front of him with a disbelieving frown.

"Yes, they are for you," Kurt assured him again. "Look, they have your name." He pointed to the little cards he penned himself.

"But Kurt, it's too much, I don't deserve all this. And I don't even have anything for anyone."

"Of course you don't, no one expects you to have presents for us," Kurt scoffed. "But we can give something to you. Come on, open this one first." He pushed the bigger box towards him. "It's from all of us. The other one is from me."

Blaine unwrapped the package with trembling fingers, careful not to tear the shiny paper. By the time the box inside was revealed, Kurt could barely refrain from bouncing in excitement. Blaine stared at the picture with wide eyes.

"Is it-"

"It's a CD player. I've noticed how much you enjoy music, so now you can listen to it in your room, too. I didn't pick any CDs for you yet, you can use mine. And if you find something else you like on the radio - there's a radio, too, see? - then we can start building your own music library. Do you like it?"

Blaine didn't answer. He was sitting very still, his mouth slightly open. Two tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked uncertainly. "What's wrong?"

 Blaine's breath hitched. "And it's really... for me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Kurt stressed.

"I just-" Blaine whispered. "I've never really had anything before. Nothing that was... really mine."

Kurt's throat tightened painfully. He hadn't even thought about it.

"Well, now you do," he said softly. "It's entirely yours."

"Thank you," Blaine choked out.

Kurt handed him the second, smaller package. "Now this. I picked it myself, I hope you like it," he said, feeling suddenly shy. "I mean, you need to have one of those so I thought- Oh, you'll see."

He watched Blaine fumble slowly with the tape, hindered by the box in his lap that he didn't want to let go of even for a minute.

The slim, shiny black box inside finally opened, revealing a simple red bowtie tucked neatly against the white interior.

"It's your collar," Kurt hurried to explain. "Well, kind of. The law only says that the collar needs to go around your neck and contain the owner's information. I wanted it to look cute, so I researched it a bit and-" He took the bowtie out and lay it flat on his knee. "A lot of people do that in big cities, you know - bowties or jewelry instead of classic collars. They want their slaves fashionable, it's quite popular there."

He'd been through these arguments already, in a conversation with his dad when the package arrived a few days ago. Convincing him it was a good idea hadn't been easy, but in the end he had grudgingly agreed. Blaine didn't raise any of the objections Burt had, though. Instead, he reached out to stroke the soft fabric with reverent fingers, his eyes wide.

"It's beautiful."

"It's easy to put on and take off, too," Kurt pointed out, showing him the snap closure at the back. "I know that traditionally collars are locked, but it just seems so inhuman. And my information goes here." He revealed a tiny pocket hidden in the folds of the bow and pulled out a small metal rectangle with his name and address embossed in minuscule script. There, as required by law, but as discreet as possible.

Blaine looked at the metal plate with over-bright eyes. "This is where it says I'm yours."

"Yes."

"I will wear it with pride, Kurt. Thank you."

As much as Kurt despised the collar law, he couldn't deny the warmth that flooded his insides at Blaine's words.

The garage was on the other side of Lima, a three-story building with the business downstairs and the slaves' quarters above it. Blaine was silent during the drive over, tucked between Kurt and Finn in the backseat, visibly nervous. Kurt was trying to make him relax a little, rattling about the place and its occupants to let him know what to expect.

"There will be nine other people besides us there. I'm sure you will like them. I've known most of them for years now - I literally grew up playing with some of them, especially after my mom died."

Blaine's eyes turned to him, big and earnest. "I didn't know your mom died. I'm so sorry."

 "It was a long time ago, almost ten years now."

"That must have been very hard." The sympathy on Blaine's face made Kurt smile sadly.

"It was," he admitted. "But my dad and I had each other and we survived somehow. I used to spend a lot of time at the garage back then. Some of the slaves there are like uncles and aunts to me. It's really like a big family, you'll see. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Blaine nodded uncertainly and tugged at the collar of the button-up Kurt had put him in. He didn't have the bowtie on - slaves were only required to wear collars in public, and they were going from one private property to another tonight by car. Kurt had dressed him up in nice, crisp clothes though, and even trimmed and styled his shiny curls a little. The clothes didn't hang on him half as much as they had two weeks ago, but they were still too loose, the pants held up only by a wide belt, the shirt baggy over his skinny torso.

"Now that you have a collar, I will be able to take you out shopping. We need to get you some proper clothes," Kurt mused and Blaine frowned, confused.

"But I do have proper clothes. They are very good clothes, Kurt."

"Oh, you have clothes, but I wouldn't call them proper. They don't fit you at all. You need things that you won't be drowning in, Blaine. And I can't wait to play with some colors. You have lovely coloring, I already have some ideas -"

"Just remember you'll be on a budget," his dad piped up from the driver's seat. "Anything above that you're paying for yourself."

"I know, I know," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Spoilsport," he added under his breath.

"I heard that," his dad said dryly as he pulled over in front of the garage. "Okay, here we are. I'll call one of the guys to come out and help us with the packages."

Before he could take out his phone, though, the door at the side of the building opened and a huge, bald man appeared, his face split in a wide grin.

"That's Jim," Kurt told Blaine, who tensed noticeably at the sight of the mountain of muscles trotting towards the car. "He looks scary, I know, but he's just a big teddy bear with a heart of gold. He was dad's first slave at the garage and-"

"The introductions can wait, boys." Burt said. "That trunk won't unload itself."

Kurt shrugged and squeezed Blaine's hand. "Don't worry. Family, remember?"

Despite the reassurance, Blaine was quiet and held close to Kurt's side as they unpacked the various containers and boxes from the car and carried them inside. As they were passing by the customer entrance to the garage, he suddenly stopped. Kurt followed his line of sight to the large, weathered sign by the door.

WE DON'T
SELL, RENT OUT, OR
ALLOW CUSTOMERS TO TOUCH
OUR SLAVES

"Oh, I almost forgot about this thing," he said. Blaine looked at him questioningly. "It's been here for at least ten years. There was trouble with some people getting handsy, I think. I remember dad lost quite a few customers when he put that sign up." He shrugged. "Come on, let's get out of this cold."

Blaine followed him inside, still wearing an astonished expression.

The slave quarters took up two floors, with five double bedrooms upstairs and a living area occupying the whole floor over the garage. The vast open space was bustling with activity tonight - people laughing and talking, carrying in food from the adjoining kitchen and moving chairs to accommodate everyone. A huge table took up most of the dining space, and it was already set with enough food for a small army. A small, very hungry army. The smells wafting from the steaming platters and saucers were amazing, just like the taste of everything would be, Kurt knew. Rob and Little John, the two slaves who always took over food preparation for special occasions like this, may look like a pair of aging wrestlers, but they cooked like gourmet chefs.

Kurt moved over to the smaller side table to help Carole unpack the desserts and sweets they brought, and a tall, spindly man that everyone called Hopper danced over immediately to give them a hand. He had the sweetest tooth Kurt had ever seen in an adult, and yet his limbs were so thin it seemed like a miracle they were able to hold him up at all. To his side, Kurt could hear the roaring laughter of Ugly Pete, a grizzly slave with a face covered in raised pink scars, courtesy of his old master and his whip. On the other side of the spacious room by the Christmas tree, he saw Fran, one of the two women at the garage, gesticulating wildly as she argued with the youngest of the lot, Andrew. In the kitchen, someone sang loudly and completely off-tune.

To Kurt, it felt like home. But in the middle of all this, Blaine stood alone like a scared, lost child.

Kurt made sure Blaine sat by his side when they finally took their places at the table, and just as he hoped, it seemed to relax the boy. Delicious food and festive atmosphere calmed him down further. Kurt was astonished how gentle everyone was with Blaine, pulling him into conversations, but not prodding him to talk. Even loud Fran, whose lack of filter was so notorious she wasn't allowed to talk to customers at all, stayed sweet and almost swear-free. Burt must have told them all a little about the newest slave in the household because everyone carefully avoided any inquiries about his history, which would normally be the first topic of conversation. Each and every one of them had demons in their past, but his were different. A pleasure slave's hell was paved with horrors the work slaves were not familiar with.

By the time desserts were served, Blaine was smiling and talking animatedly with Shannon, a middle-aged female slave with curly hair and a large, masculine body, whom the other slaves called "Beast" for some reason. They seemed to have found a common tongue, their connection easy and immediate. At one point, Blaine laughed out loud, a short, startled sound that made Kurt freeze, surprised. It was the first time he'd heard Blaine laugh.

Finally, the dinner was done and everyone gathered in the lounge area, chatting and laughing. Some sat on the sofas and armchairs scattered around the large space, others preferred to settle comfortably on the floor. When Kurt came back from helping in the kitchen, he found Blaine standing to the side, watching the scene with awed eyes. To someone who had only experienced mistreatment and abuse from most of his previous masters, this must have seemed like another world, all these happy, relaxed slaves sharing the Christmas night with their owners.

"Okay, gentlemen," Burt called out, standing by the big box under the tree. "And ladies," he added.

"There ain't no ladies here, boss." Fran cackled and the men hooted in agreement. Kurt knew that both Fran and Shannon were as tough as the guys here. They had to be.

"Well good, because I'm not sure ladies would appreciate that foosball table I got you."

A cheer erupted among the slaves, two of them already opening the box, others moving a sofa aside, pushing it to the corner to make room for the new piece of furniture. Finn jumped up to help, almost as excited as the slaves.

Most of the party was now gathered around the foosball table in a happy chaos of bodies and voices. Kurt watched for a few minutes, but soon he got bored with the plastic players kicking the plastic ball, just like he always did with actual football. He stepped back and looked around the room, his eyes instinctively searching for Blaine.

He found the boy on the sofa pushed into the quiet corner. He wasn't alone - Jim was sitting next to him, smiling as they talked quietly. Jim looked up just as Kurt started towards them.

"And here comes the best one of them all," he bellowed with a wide grin. Blaine looked up, noticing Kurt for the first time, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but Kurt was sure he could see his shoulders relax.

"The best of what?" Kurt asked, approaching them.

"Oh, I was just telling Blaine what a wonderful family he has found himself in." Jim turned back to Blaine as Kurt perched on the empty coffee table opposite. "Believe me, kid, I know how scary it is to be thrown from place to place, each worse than the last. But with Mister Kurt taking care of you, you're in the best hands. You couldn't have gotten better owners than the Hummels."

Blaine smiled shyly, looking up at Kurt. "I know."

"Look at Andrew there." Jim pointed out the boy leaning on his crutches, deep in a conversation with Burt. "He came here last year, a 16-year-old with his leg shredded by some harvester in the field mere days before. The dealers said he was patched up and healing nicely, but it turned out there was an infection. A bad one."

Blaine was listening to Jim, transfixed. "And he survived?"

"Oh yes," Jim nodded gravely. "Only thanks to Mister Hummel. A lesser man would have let the kid die once they learnt how bad it was. Not him. He paid for the doctors, medication, everything that could be done, even when they told him the leg had to be cut off. You would think a slave without a leg was useless. And yet here he is, alive and working just like every one of us. He's manning the reception at the garage now. He's damn brilliant at it, too, coming up with all those ads and organizing ideas. I admit I had my doubts, but Mister Hummel said that no matter how broken a slave is, they're still human and with proper care, they can be fixed and have a long, useful life. And damn, he was right."

Blaine looked at Andrew, his expression thoughtful.

Jim seemed to be on a roll. "And if you need any other proof of how good your new owners are - who else but the best would use all this time and effort to free their slaves, right?"

At that, Blaine's eyes snapped back to Jim, uncomprehending. "Free?"

"Well yes!" Jim frowned. "You don't know?" He looked at Kurt. "But... I helped Mister Finn pack the books, I was sure-"

"I was waiting for the right moment to explain," Kurt stuttered, feeling as if he was caught lying.

"Oh damn, Mister Kurt, I'm sorry!" Jim's face fell. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's okay. I was going to tell Blaine soon. And you know more than me anyway, how about you explain the process for both of us, Jim?"

Blaine was glancing between Jim and Kurt, tense and confused. Kurt felt the blush rise on his cheeks. He should have found a way to tell Blaine himself, explain it gently. It was too late now.

"Blaine, Jim is a free man now," he started. "But he used to be a slave here."

"The first slave Mister Hummel bought for his garage, thirteen years ago," Jim added proudly. "I worked for him for ten good years as a slave. Now I have a little apartment in town, but I still work here. I would never leave. No better boss than Mister Hummel."

"But... slaves can really be freed?" Blaine asked quietly, like the concept contradicted everything he knew about the world.

"Oh, we can," Jim said. "It just takes a lot of time and effort, and good people. But it happens. All of the slaves here are eventually going to be free. After me, two more were released - Hopper here, and one more who moved on to start his own family, so he ain't here tonight. Our Beastie is next. You will be free one day, too. You're already working on the books, aren't you? Sooner than most of us."

When Blaine met Kurt's eyes, he looked scared - betrayed even. Kurt tried to smile apologetically.

"Well there's still a lot of time. It's mostly to give Blaine something to do as he heals and gathers his strength," he said to Jim.

Blaine seemed to consider it. "But I'm strong and healthy already. So... if I may ask. What happens next? Do I move here to work at the garage as well?"

Kurt knew that was the plan, but the thought of not having Blaine under the same roof, not seeing him every day, was suddenly making his chest constrict. "I... let's focus on now, okay?" He found himself evading.

Jim glanced at him, surprised, then turned to Blaine again. "It's still years till you can be free anyway, kid. The law makes sure slaves can't be released that easily."

"Ten years, right?" Kurt asked, if only to divert Blaine's attention from himself.

Jim nodded. "Well, technically, the slave has to be in their last master's possession for at least five years, but it takes longer than that to gather the money required to declare him financially independent. Your father is paying every slave working here like he would regular employees, except he puts it in their accounts that they will have access to once they are free. It takes ten years to reach the required sum. And then there's still the test."

"What test?" Blaine whispered, looking more overwhelmed by the second.

"Well, people like to believe that slaves are dumber than average free folk, so there's  this exam we need to pass before we can be freed," Jim said with a hint of disdain in his voice. "That's what you're studying for, to prove you're smart enough to be a regular citizen. It's pretty big, but don't worry, it's years away."

"Not for me," said Shannon, who had been listening to the conversation, standing silently behind the sofa for a while now. "Mine's in two months," she explained when Blaine looked up at her.

"But... what if a slave doesn't want to be free?" Blaine asked faintly, his face closing off, and Kurt's heart squeezed painfully for him. Maybe it was too early.

"Oh munchkin, of course you do." Shannon walked around to sit on the sofa, squeezing herself between the two men and laying a gentle hand on Blaine's arm. "You don't want to be a slave all your life if you have a way out. But really, don't worry, they aren't going to put you though that ordeal and abandon you. The Hummels are the fucking best. You won't be alone."

Blaine nodded, but he didn't look convinced, just putting on a brave face for the world to see. It was good enough for Jim and Shannon, it seemed. They kept rattling about the change the Hummel family was making, freeing the slaves, showing the world how they should be treated, setting an example.

Kurt stayed there, smiling and blushing and feeling like he didn't deserve all the praise at all.

They left the garage two hours later. Blaine was quiet, had been for a while now, and Kurt kept looking at him, trying to make sure he was okay. It was hard to tell. He looked exhausted, that was certain. They squeezed into the backseat with Finn and the ride home passed in silence.

Halfway there, Kurt felt a pressure on his shoulder. He looked in time to see Blaine's eyes snapping open, his head jerking up.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Kurt. I must have dozed off, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." All Kurt wanted was to lay his hand on Blaine's to soothe the nervous shiver, tell him to lean against him if he wanted. "You must be tired. It's been a long day for you."

"It was. But a wonderful one," Blaine said, softly.