Chapter 19

“No, please don’t stop. Kurt.”

Kurt chuckled fondly into the warm curve of Blaine’s neck. “We have to, sweetheart, my family’s in the driveway.”

“No they aren’t.” Blaine tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Kurt’s head and leaned up for another kiss. Outside, the sound of the car door closing disturbed the Saturday afternoon silence. Blaine sat up on the bed, adorably startled.

They managed to hastily straighten up the bedspread and leave Blaine’s bedroom before Finn stumbled through the door, carrying four bags of groceries piled in his arms. Blaine hurried to help while Kurt ducked into the bathroom to get his hair in order before his dad’s eagle eye could catch what had been going on in their absence.

It had only been the second time they kissed like that, spread side by side on Blaine’s bed, bodies carefully apart and hands joined, lips tingling with as many kisses as they could fit in the little space of time alone. It had been the first time that Kurt dared to kiss down the lovely, tempting line of Blaine’s neck, and the breathless, stunned response it evoked still fizzled under his skin.

Barely a month had passed since their first kiss and already Kurt found it hard to keep from reaching for Blaine’s hand every time they were close, from kissing Blaine good morning or cuddling with him on the couch every time they watched a movie. He wanted to shout his feelings from the rooftops. But he was still a little nervous about what his family might say if they knew, so for now, he kept it quiet and only allowed himself any physical closeness with Blaine in those rare moments when they were completely alone.

Which is not to say Kurt didn’t create those opportunities. He’d taken Blaine shopping with him a few times just for the chance to hold his hand in the car. They’d gone for walks in the first rays of March sunshine once or twice, keeping a respectable distance but able to talk without curious ears around. They visited Jeff and Nick again, and while Kurt didn’t feel ready for any kind of PDA, it felt nice to be able to sit close to Blaine, or touch him in passing, or even just look at him across the room without making sure his heart didn’t make its way to his eyes in a way everyone around could notice.

But it was never enough. He just wanted to be with Blaine all the time – be close to him, talk to him, show him new things, new places. Treat him like an equal, always. Not have to care what people thought.

Speaking of new places though…

“Blaine, what would you say to going to a party with me and Finn next weekend?” Kurt asked over dinner that night. He had planned to talk about it with Blaine when they were alone earlier, but then Blaine had looked longingly at Kurt’s lips and any plans that didn’t involve kissing flew out the window.

Blaine paused with his fork in mid-air. “Me? Going to a party with you?”

By Kurt’s side, his dad looked at him curiously. Kurt hurried to explain.

“It’s Tina’s birthday party, and Santana is taking Brittany because she doesn’t want to leave her home alone at night. I thought Blaine could come too, to keep Brit company.” He looked back at Blaine. “You two haven’t seen each other for a while, it could be nice.”

Blaine smiled. “It would be very nice. I would love to meet Brittany again.”

“Mercedes says she will probably bring Sam with her, too,” Kurt added. “You don’t know Sam yet, but I think you’ll like him. He’s an entertainment slave, and he’s sweet and funny.”

Finn straightened up across the table. “Oh, I have to tell Rachel. She could take Quinn.”

Kurt’s dad nodded. “As long as Tina doesn’t mind, I see no problem with Blaine going with you. And it means we’re gonna have the house for ourselves for once.” He waggled his eyebrows at Carole, who giggled.

“Dad!” Kurt groaned, at the same time as Finn choked on a forkful of peas.

Well, the party was a go. And they would have to make sure not to come back too early.

*

It was interesting, Kurt mused, how different people’s relationships with their slaves could be – even here, in his little group of friends. The dismissive, condescending way Rachel treated Quinn, without ever questioning it. Mercedes’ fond kindness towards Sam, her pride in his skills and natural charm. Santana’s closeness with Brittany, her fierce protectiveness clear in the way she kept her eye on her girl from across the room.

Kurt’s own forbidden bond with Blaine.

They kept it on the down low here at the party, neutral friendliness being an attitude Kurt aimed for and Blaine adopted seamlessly without a word exchanged, but Kurt wondered what his friends would say if they knew the truth. They’d all heard by now how Blaine had come to live with the Hummel-Hudsons, and apart from Puck’s occasional crude remark, they accepted that Kurt hadn’t bought Blaine to have any sort of relations with him. He suspected most of them would be more or less supportive if they learned about the newest developments though. But it was not the time to test it. Not yet.

Besides, Finn was here, and while Kurt knew his family had to learn about his relationship with Blaine soon, this was not the way to let them know. He even volunteered to be the designated driver tonight to make sure he couldn’t be tempted to drink. It would be too easy to slip if he did, especially with Blaine in the same room, so close and so lovely.

An hour and a half into the party, Tina’s new karaoke machine was the center of attention, everyone taking turns at the microphone, solo and in twos. Kurt had sang Blackbird a while ago and Blaine’s stunned, affected expression as he watched had filled him with the kind of warm, happy glow that only the appreciation from those important to us brings. It was the first time Blaine had really heard him perform, other than some silly little songs hummed at home, and Kurt would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t chosen the song with Blaine in mind, at least to a degree. Now, sitting on a couch in the corner with a beaming, chattering Brittany, Blaine looked enchanted, alive with the music flying so freely here, with all the people and voices and songs. Watching Sam, Mercedes’ slave, kill Billionaire in duet with Artie as if they’d sung together for years, Kurt suddenly had an idea. He put down his glass of Coke and walked over to the couch.

“Hey Blaine,” he said, perching on the armrest. “Are you having fun?”

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said breathlessly. “Everyone’s really nice, and Sam is so funny, and Kurt, you were amazing.”

Kurt beamed. “Thank you. How would you like to go up there and sing?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t know if it’s proper–”

“Sam is singing,” Kurt pointed out. “I’m sure Brittany could sing too?” He looked at the blonde and she bounced excitedly on the couch.

“Oooh, yes! I’ll ask Mistress!” She was gone in a blink, making a beeline to Santana, and Kurt looked pleadingly at Blaine.

“Will you sing? Please? For me? I would love to hear you, you have such a lovely voice.”

Blaine blushed and nodded slowly. “If it pleases you… I will. For you.”

Sam and Artie had just finished their song and Brittany was at the microphone now, starting on a happy, bubbly song that Kurt had never heard before. Santana’s dark eyes as she watched her were softer and filled with more emotion than Kurt had ever seen on her before. Maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings, after all.

Blaine took the stage several minutes later, after a quick conversation with Tina who was manning the song list. Kurt recognized the tune as the song started – he’d heard it coming from Blaine’s room more than once in the last few weeks as Blaine listened to the CDs Nick had lent him. Kurt himself wasn’t a big fan of Keane, but the song, Somewhere Only We Know, was lovely and fit Blaine’s voice perfectly. Shy and a little shaky at the beginning, Blaine quickly found his bearings, the music enveloping him and filling his voice with strength and confidence. He was clearly in his element. His eyes were closed and his body unmoving at the microphone, but the nervous clench of his fists relaxed after only a few lines, the tension in his muscles melting away. Kurt listened, enchanted, and so did everyone else in the room. Blaine’s voice really was amazing.

And then a line hit Kurt right in the heart.

This could be the end of everything

Yes. Yes it could. Blaine didn’t know it yet, and Kurt refused to think about it, telling himself he had time, but college was only getting closer, and soon there would be no more room for pushing it away. Kurt had sent his applications to New York a while ago, half-hoping he’d get accepted, half-dreading it, but he knew he had a decent chance to get in. And then what? What would happen to this beautiful thing between Blaine and him that had only just started to blossom? His dad was already hinting that it was time to move Blaine to the garage and start training him for the job. It was only a matter of time – and not much time at all – before those hints became decisions, and then actions.

Blaine finished his song and blinked his eyes open, immediately seeking out Kurt in the group. As he got off the little platform that served as a stage, beaming, Kurt wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and never let go. But he couldn’t, not here, and probably not tonight at all, so he just clapped and praised Blaine and smiled wider than he thought he could while worry unfurled slowly deep in his gut.

What would they do?

He was saved from the rapid descent into gloom by the door opening to let in another, very late, guest.

Sugar Motta was a freshman and the newest addition to their Glee club. She was part charming, part infuriating, couldn’t sing to save her life, and was apparently swimming in her daddy’s money. Tina had invited her to the party just because she invited everyone else from the club, and Sugar had spent the week frantically asking everyone about the proper dress code, inside rules when it came to Glee parties (what?), and Tina’s taste in gifts. She’d seemed so excited about the invitation that her absence had come as a surprise.

Now, she was standing in the doorway in a ridiculously short, puffy pink dress and a magenta-colored fur shrug, with a big pink bow on her headband, and holding a rhinestone-studded black leash, at the end of which…

Tina’s glass shattered on the floor with a loud crash.

Kurt recognized the tall Asian boy whose thick sparkling collar was attached to the leash, even though the only time he’d seen him before, the slave had been wearing much less than the classy tuxedo he had on now. Beside Kurt, wide-eyed Mercedes let out a gasp, covering her mouth. Tina’s trembling voice was the only sound in the suddenly silent room.

“M-Mike? What are you–?” She looked at Sugar, the tears that she’d been on the verge of all evening threatening to spill. “What are you doing with him?”

Sugar finally entered the room, apparently satisfied with the effect she made. Mike stepped in behind her in silence, his eyes lowered to the floor. Sugar stopped in front of Tina and started digging in her oversized pink purse.

“You have no idea how hard it is to get anything done efficiently on Saturday evening,” she said, eyes still focused on the abyss of the bag. “I had to call Daddy because they refused to do business with me, that’s why I’m late. Sorry,” she said, finally digging out a few sheets of paper fastened with a sparkly binder clip. “Aha! Here, tadaaaaam! Happy birthday!” she squealed and pushed the papers into stunned Tina’s hand.

It took Tina a few long seconds to realize Sugar was handing her the end of the leash, too. Once she did, she took the sparkly loop gingerly, her mouth open in confusion.

“Sorry there isn’t a bow on your present, they didn’t have any at the store where we bought the suit and I didn’t want to be even later.”

“My… present?” Tina choked out, her eyes glued to Mike who was looking up at her now, as incredulous as she was.

“Wait, Mike is her birthday present?” Mercedes asked, the first one to snap out of her shock.

Sugar looked around, suddenly unsure. “What? I asked Artie what would be the best gift for Tina. He said she wanted the slave so I bought her the slave,” she said defensively.

“I was joking!” Artie exclaimed.

“So she doesn’t want the slave?” Sugar asked, confused.

“Oh, no, she definitely does want the slave,” Mercedes hurried to assure her, a wide grin on her face. Tina finally seemed to regain the ability to move and was looking at the papers in her hand with wide eyes.

“It really says he’s mine,” she said in an awed voice. Sugar gave her a small, unsure smile.

“Of course he is. Happy birthday?”

The squeal and hug that Tina gave her nearly swept Sugar off her feet.

*

“So Mike has been a pleasure slave for rent then?” Blaine asked as they drove home that night with Finn dozing off in the back seat.

“Yes,” Kurt said. “He and Tina have been in love for months, but she didn’t have the money to buy him out of the bar so they thought they could never be together. But now they can.”

Blaine smiled happily. “They are lucky, just like me. I hope they are happy for a very long time.”

Kurt glanced at the mirror to check if Finn’s eyes were still closed, and reached across the console to squeeze Blaine’s hand. “Me too,” he said, his heart aching for reasons that had nothing to do with Tina and Mike at all. “Me too.”

*

That night, Kurt couldn’t sleep. Everything felt uncertain and fragile, and he lay in bed wide awake, envisioning life a month from now, three months, six. In his mind’s eye, he saw a letter from one of the New York schools coming – an acceptance letter, not a rejection like he’d used to see in his nightmares even a few months ago. He saw his graduation, and coming home to a place where Blaine wasn’t anymore. Going to New York alone and returning just a few times a year; only ever seeing Blaine at the garage, and even then in passing, and never in private.

He could imagine Blaine’s betrayed, shattered expression when Kurt had to tell him that he’d be leaving in August. Not yet, maybe not for weeks still. But soon. Too soon.

The thing was, Kurt had done his research. And while all of the schools he had applied to indeed allowed slaves in dorms for a (sizable) fee, he knew there was no way his family could afford to let Blaine go with him, even if they ended up accepting their relationship. Not to mention, how would Blaine be able to earn his freedom if they somehow, miraculously managed to go together? What right did Kurt have to even think of taking that chance away from him?

Kurt huffed and flipped onto his belly, punching his pillow in frustration. Sleep wouldn’t come, and he just wanted to stop thinking for now. But downstairs, just a dozen creaking steps away, there was a boy whose heart Kurt was bound to break one way or another. How could he ever stop thinking about that?

It took a long time, but sleep did finally creep in, and as it often happens, comfort came with it, in those fuzzy, soft moments of sliding into dreams, when reason and logic no longer reign supreme. Who says it can’t be done? came a quiet voice of hope. Tina and Mike were destined to never be together. Nick should have been captured and punished for escaping. Blaine was supposed to be dead. You two have beaten those odds and now you want to give up because of something as trivial as money?

Kurt fell asleep to the beginnings of plans forming in his head, intangible and abstract.

*

Morning rose cold and rainy, as if they hadn’t just had a week of truly perfect weather, and Kurt got up anxious and determined to act. How exactly he would act he wasn’t sure yet, but there was no time to waste. His mind, restless after a night of vaguely remembered nightmares about college, insisted he had to start doing something, and start now, if he wanted a chance to keep Blaine with him.

It was Sunday and no one had any plans, it seemed. The house was full in that lazy-Sunday way where everyone lounges around watching TV, or reading a newspaper over the second cup of coffee, occasionally talking or just existing peacefully in the same space. Normally, Kurt loved those days, but today, his insides were shaking with the need to move. He couldn’t stand sitting still.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his dad asked, surprised, when Kurt passed through the living room towards the door, his boots on and Blaine two steps behind him.

“To the mall. They said they may have those silk scarves on sale this weekend and I didn’t have time to check yesterday. Do you need something?”

His dad’s eyes were already back on his newspaper. “You can bring one of those cheesecakes you and Carole like. And be home for lunch will you?”

Kurt hummed in assent and shut the door behind them.

The truth was, there were no scarves to check on. He just wanted to talk to Blaine in private. But as they started in the general direction of the mall, alone in the car at last, the words wouldn’t come. Kurt hadn’t planned this too well – or at all, really; he was running on anxiety and determination, and now that he could finally speak openly, he realized he had no idea what to say.

Blaine didn’t miss his restlessness.

“Kurt? Is something wrong?” he asked uncertainly ten silent minutes into the drive. Kurt chanced a glance at his worried face.

“No. No sweetheart, everything’s fine, I’m just out of sorts today.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

They were nearing the mall and Kurt decided they could just as well talk there. They were supposed to buy the cheesecake anyway.

“Will you have coffee with me?” he asked, and Blaine nodded, but there was a frown on his face. Kurt had just drunk coffee at home.

The mall was still mostly deserted at this early hour, only little groups of shoppers milling around, and the coffee shop was empty enough to offer privacy for their talk. They ordered and settled at the table in the corner, and then there was no way to procrastinate any longer.

“Honey, I wanted to tell you something,” he started, his voice less steady than he would have liked it. He paused and took a sip of his coffee, more to occupy his nervous hands than anything. When he looked up again, the look on Blaine’s face made the breath catch in his throat.

Blaine’s pleading, pained expression brought Kurt right back to that first evening in doctor Holland’s waiting room. Kurt had sworn to Blaine then that he would never send him away – for the first time, he promised him safety and forever – and Blaine had looked at him with those huge eyes and begged him not to promise him beautiful things like that.

He was looking at Kurt the same way now, clearly waiting for the axe to drop, and Kurt suddenly felt sick. What was he doing? Was he really going to ask Blaine to go to New York with him, when he had no idea how or even if he would be able to make it happen? What if it didn’t work? What if determination wasn’t enough and he ended up having to go alone and leave Blaine at the garage? How would he be able to look him in the eyes ever again after breaking his trust like that?

“I… Sorry, I’ll be right back.” Kurt got up rapidly, his coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup as he put it down too fast. “Bathroom. Wait for me here, okay?” he sounded panicked even to himself, and Blaine’s eyes widened even further, but he nodded.

Kurt fled. There was nothing else to call it. He had to gather his wits and get a grip because he was acting like a thoughtless idiot and it had to stop, now, before he hurt Blaine any worse than he’d been hurt before.

The nearest bathroom had an Out of Service sign hung on the door, so Kurt cursed under his breath and marched towards the one on the opposite end of the mall. He just needed a moment alone, to collect his thoughts and decide what to do. He hated that he’d left Blaine there like that, alone and confused, but he couldn’t think while looking at his beautiful, worried face.

Alone in the empty bathroom, Kurt splashed his face with cold water and stood there for a moment, looking in the mirror. He had to tell Blaine something – after the opening he’d given him there was no way Blaine would believe it if Kurt said it was nothing important – but it couldn’t be about New York. Not yet, not when he hadn’t even gotten an acceptance letter, and definitely not before he knew for sure he could take Blaine with him. He had to find a way first, and then ask Blaine to join him. That was the only reasonable way, how could he have thought otherwise?

But for now… he’d told Blaine they needed to talk, so how about making that talk about them, and what was between them? He could ask if Blaine would be his boyfriend. They’d never discussed it. And they could talk about coming out to Kurt’s family while at it. Maybe not today, but soon, if Blaine agreed. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

Calmer now, though with new kind of nerves buzzing in the pit of his stomach, Kurt left the bathroom. He had to keep himself from jogging back towards the food court, impatient to return to Blaine and ease his worry. Okay, so maybe the prospect of calling him a boyfriend sped his steps too. Just a little bit.

Blaine wasn’t at the table.

Kurt stood in the middle of the coffee shop and looked around, confused. The table in the corner where they’d been sitting was unoccupied, as were all the others, but both of their cups were still there, drinks hardly touched. The chattering group of middle-aged women that had been seated around one of the larger tables was gone now, and there was only a couple of college girls waiting for their order at the counter. There was no sign of Blaine anywhere.

“Excuse me?” Kurt walked towards the counter, where a scrawny, sleepy-looking barista was unhurriedly pumping syrup into a paper cup. “Have you seen the boy who was here with me a moment ago? He was sitting at that table in the corner. Did you happen to see where he went?”

The barista barely looked up at him, his voice monotone. “I ain’t seen nothing, man.” He turned to foam the milk, not sparing Kurt another glance.

The first tendrils of fear shooting through him, Kurt took a quick tour around the food court, mind working frantically. Why would Blaine leave? Did he go looking for Kurt? Did he need a bathroom himself? No, he wouldn’t go until Kurt came back.

Did he run away?

Surely not. Not Blaine. Why would he? There had to be a simple explanation of his absence.

(Except what if he thought Kurt wanted to sell him and decided to escape instead?)

(No. He wouldn’t. He knew Kurt would never do that. Right?)

Forcing himself to stop devising worst-case scenarios, Kurt walked out to the parking lot, hoping to find Blaine waiting by the car. When that plan proved fruitless, he did a quick run around the mall, casting glances into each store, his heart hammering in his chest harder with every passing minute. He checked the empty bathroom, ran back to the food court. Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

Kurt was winded when he reached the coffee shop again, hoping against hope to just find Blaine back in his chair, but while more tables were occupied now, the familiar curly head was not there. He was turning back to leave, feeling more helpless than ever, when he heard the barista’s nasal voice.

“Oy! The kid you’re looking for, he a slave?”

Kurt closed the distance to the counter in three long steps. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Have you seen him?”

“Man, you should have said so! There was a fuss a while ago, mall security took away an uncollared slave. Black hair, gray sweater?”

“Cardigan,” Kurt corrected automatically, relief flooding in so fast he felt unsteady with it. It was just a misunderstanding, thank god. “Yes, that’s him. But he has a collar.”

“I don’t know man, just saying what I heard.”

Kurt nodded, impatient to go. “Where did they take him?”

“The security office I guess? It’s on the second floor. The elevator’s behind the GAP.”

“Thank you!” Kurt called out, already running in that direction.

It was fine. It would all be fine. They just hadn’t realized the bowtie was Blaine’s collar, they hadn’t listened to him explain, Kurt would get it all straightened out in no time. And then he would take Blaine home, and everything would be okay.

 That comforting conviction died as soon as he opened the security office door and saw the person standing inside.

“You!” Kurt spat, horrible suspicion blooming instantly. “What have you done? Where is Blaine?”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. “They have him in the back. You’re Kurt, right? He kept calling for you when they dragged him here.”

“Why are you here? And what the hell happened?”

“Um.” Sebastian hesitated, that gloating smile from their first meeting wiped clear off his face. Then he raised his right hand. On his open palm lay a red bowtie collar, creased from his grip. Kurt gasped. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear,” Sebastian said urgently. “It was just a prank, I wanted to make you sweat a little, but then you didn’t come and they took him away and– Kurt, I’m sorry.”

Kurt snatched the collar from Sebastian’s hand just as a security officer, a large, grim-looking man with a mustache, came in from the back room. Kurt turned to him immediately.

“Good morning sir, I’m here to collect my slave,” he said as politely as he could through the anger that choked him. “There’s been a misunderstanding. My name’s Kurt Hummel, and this is my slave’s collar.” He pulled out the little tag with his information from the bowtie’s folds to show to the man. “He had it on, but this guy here apparently took it off him while I was away for a moment.”

The officer glanced at the tag, disinterested. “I’m sorry, but we can’t release your slave. There’s been a violent incident and we are bound by the law to place him in the correction facility.”

Kurt’s blood ran cold. “What kind of violent incident?”

The officer inclined his head towards Sebastian, who raised his left hand sheepishly. There was a clear, purple bite mark between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I’m fine though,” Sebastian said to the man. “I told you, I’m not blaming him. Can’t you release him and we’ll just forget about it?”

“Law is law, young man. And I can’t release a violent slave without making sure his behavior is properly corrected. Where would it lead us if we just let rabid slaves roam around?”

Kurt ground his teeth so hard it hurt, trying not to snap at the officer. It would do neither him nor Blaine any good. “Can I see him at least?” he asked.

“No. No one can interact with a slave in custody but trained personnel. Besides, he’s just about to get a ride to the facility.”

Kurt lost it. “You can’t do this!” he exclaimed. “He did nothing wrong, he’s the kindest, sweetest boy you’ll ever meet! You can’t take him away!”

The officer looked at him with something akin to pity and took out a sheet of paper from a drawer. “Tell you what. Fill in this form so that we can put him into the system, and when you’re done, I’ll give you the address of the facility. You can try to talk to them.”

Filling in the information sheet and waiting for the man to enter the data into the computer took ages, but then finally Kurt was out of the stuffy room, a post-it note with an address clutched in his hand. Sebastian followed him out of the office.

“Kurt, I’m really sorry. It wasn’t supposed to–”

Thwack

Ow. No one had told Kurt punching someone in the face hurt so much. But it was satisfying nonetheless.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he yelled. Sebastian was holding his cheek, but wisely not saying a word. “He’s been through hell. He’s only just started getting better. You have no idea–”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sebastian whined.

“I don’t care. You’re going with me and you’re gonna fix it. Or I will sue your ass.”

Without looking back, he marched towards the elevator. After a few seconds he heard Sebastian falling in step behind him.

*

The drive passed in tense silence. Sebastian sat in the passenger’s seat of Kurt’s car, looking out the window without a word, a bruise slowly darkening on his jaw.

The slave correction facility was located fifteen miles out of town. It looked like the prison it was, a depressing gray slab of a building in the middle of a large empty lot, with barbed wire around and guard towers in the corners. Behind it, visible only as they approached the gates, were two rundown factory buildings. Kurt couldn’t see much through the distance and fences, but there were people in gray clothes milling around them, carrying large crates and logs at a hurried pace.

Kurt had never been here before, but he’d read an article about the slave correction system, praising the government for finding such a smart way to deal with slaves’ infractions. Slaves at those facilities had to earn their food and accommodation through hard labor, and the “correction” was achieved through strict rules and daily punishments. Kurt felt sick even looking at the place and thinking that his Blaine was supposed to stay here. 

There had to be a way to fix it.

By the time they were let in through the gate and into a small bare room with a single ancient desk, Kurt’s stomach hurt from nerves and Sebastian looked pale and more unsure than Kurt had ever seen him. The guard seated behind the desk looked up from his crossword puzzle.

“How can I help you, boys?”

Kurt let Sebastian tell the whole story – about taking the collar off Blaine and notifying a passing security officer as a “joke”, about Blaine’s panic as he was dragged away, about Sebastian’s attempt to fix the damage by claiming he was Blaine’s owner so that he could take him back to the coffee shop, and Blaine’s resistance.

“So that’s why he bit you,” Kurt snapped, incredulous.

“He was screaming that I wasn’t his owner so I tried to cover his mouth. Okay, so it wasn’t my smartest idea.” Sebastian scowled at him, but then he turned to the guard. “See, it was my fault. Blaine isn’t violent in the slightest. I should know, he used to be my slave.”

The man shrugged. “Still, we cannot release a slave who injured a free man, no matter the circumstances.”

Kurt grabbed Sebastian’s elbow and pushed him closer to the desk. “Does he look injured?” The guard’s eyes went to the bruise on Sebastian’s jaw and Kurt snapped impatiently. “No, that one was me. He’s fine. He told you he’s fine. No harm done.” Sebastian nodded fervently.

The man shook his head. “Kid, if there was more harm done, your slave would have been put down on the spot. As it is, he just needs some firm discipline. You can have him back in six weeks. If he doesn’t cause any trouble, he’ll be fine.”

Kurt didn’t know what hit him harder, the “six weeks” or the possibility that Blaine could have been killed back at the mall, put down like a dog – but suddenly the world was spinning around him and he folded heavily onto a chair, head cradled in his hands. Sebastian was talking, but Kurt didn’t recognize the words, focused on getting enough air in his lungs.

He was still at it when a hand touched his shoulder an undetermined amount of time later. “Come on,” Sebastian said. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Kurt shook his hand off violently, but he did get up, mind rapidly at work at what else he could say to make the guard, who had already gone back to his crossword, understand. Would it help if he told him Blaine’s tragic story, pointing out how the imprisonment would undo all of the healing? Would he understand if Kurt told him Blaine was special to him?

Even as he considered it, Kurt knew it didn’t matter. Slaves meant less than animals to most people, and he was sure this man was no different, considering where he worked.

Sebastian opened the door and steered Kurt out, hand between his shoulder blades with the least possible contact. “I offered to bribe him, but he wouldn’t budge,” he said once they were out. “But I did buy all the upgrades they have to offer, so Blaine will have a single room with a bed at least, and proper meals three times a day.”

“He will also be worked till he drops and beaten daily in the name of ‘correction,’ so yes, that’s very comforting. Don’t touch me.” Kurt roughly pushed Sebastian away and marched to his car. He probably shouldn’t drive in his state, but he had to get home, tell his father. Maybe he would be able to do something.

He didn’t wait for Sebastian to catch up with him, starting the car as soon as he slammed his door shut. As Kurt sped out the gate, he saw Sebastian in the rearview mirror, standing in the middle of the empty parking lot, waving his arms wildly and calling out after him.

Kurt drove home without looking back.