Chapter Seven: Tangled

It had been almost a month since Blaine had been brought here, since he had last [seen, touched, kissed] spoken to Kurt.  His leg was almost completely healed.  To celebrate his cast coming off, Santana had sweetly offered to “beat his ass.”  They now boxed almost daily, and Blaine had to admit that it felt good to pick up the sport he had left behind when he dropped out of college.  It felt good to hit something, felt good to be hit.  Even if that something was a someone, and that someone was a girl.  Maybe especially because it was this girl in particular.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Even this new, familiar form of stress relief couldn’t dissipate the growing, gnawing itch under Blaine’s skin.  The itch that said what are you waiting for?  The nagging scream of what about Kurt?  Perhaps worst of all was the feeling of wrongness.  Blaine Anderson didn’t sit and stay like a good boy, or he never had before.  Blaine Anderson was a man of action.

He and Santana were just finishing up an afternoon spar, Blaine’s blood pounding too thickly and his heart racing too fast like his body had been gearing up for something big, but something never came.  Maybe it was inevitable then, when suddenly Blaine felt all of his frustrations bubbling forth, hungry and relentless and too long unsated by the mere clash of fists. 

He snapped.

“What the fuck is this, Santana,” he practically spat, the outburst having wound within from their first clash of fists.  Blaine pulled off his gloves hastily and all but hurled them into the far corner of the room.

“Excuse me?”

“We can’t… you can’t just keep me here forever, doing this.  Something’s got to give!  There has to be a plan, or a secret, or something you aren’t telling me!”

“Whoa, slow down there Frodo!  You don’t have a magical ring to help you disappear if you push me too far…”

“And what happens then?” he countered.  “What have I got to lose?  Stop it with this bullshit snark, Santana, and give me some real answers!”

Santana sighed, looking down as she delicately removed her own gloves and walked them slowly over to the equipment heap.  “If it’s answers you’re looking for,” she said calmly, voice infuriatingly even, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to pull them out of your own ass.”

Blaine glared at her pointedly until she finally looked up and met his eyes.

“Fuck, Anderson.  What exactly is it you want from me?  You’re alive, and you’re safe for as long as I can manage it.  I can’t give you more than that.”

His face fell as he took in her sincerity.  “Fuck,” he said.  Energy draining all at once, he dropped to the floor, resting his forehead on folded knees.  “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Santana said more softly.

“I can’t… I just can’t.  This can’t be it.”  Blaine was rambling now, speaking more to himself than to her.  He looked up after a moment to find Santana still staring at him, an odd sort of pity on her face that felt so wrong he almost questioned his sanity.  She opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the wooden frame of the door.  Blaine’s head whipped around to find Sandy there, smirking at the image of Blaine balled up on the floor.  Blaine stood, straightening himself out, and scowled.

Sandy turned away from him, moving to whisper something into Santana’s ear while Blaine ducked his head and pretended not to listen.  He heard her quietly dismiss Sandy when he was finished, and the man left immediately.  Santana turned back to Blaine for a moment, shooting him a look he couldn’t read, before quietly walking out of the room.

When Blaine followed her she spared him only a glance over her shoulder, but there was no mistaking that this look was a dirty one.   Santana ignored Blaine’s demands to know what was going on until he finally gave up, crossing his arms as he hurried after her and setting his jaw.

He hesitated when it became clear they were headed to the room he had first arrived in, but only for a moment.  Blaine was sick of Santana’s bullshit and her secrecy, even if some more rational part of his brain did know that he was in no place to demand anything from her.  He was resolute.

He had barely stepped through the door, had not yet looked around when a voice cried out his name.

“Blaine!”

Swinging his head around, he saw Kurt standing in the corner next to a pretty blonde girl, both with their hands tied behind them.  A guard stood with them as well, but thankfully one whom Blaine didn’t recognize.  Kurt looked dirty and tired and his clothes were in tatters, but Blaine had never before seen anything more beautiful.

“Kurt,” he breathed, already rushing forward.  He took Kurt in his arms, ignoring his bound hands, and pulled him close, kissing his face, then his mouth.  Kurt returned the kiss eagerly, following Blaine’s lips when he tried to pull away.

“Disgusting,” Santana said, glaring at them from the doorway.  Kurt eyed her with mild distrust, but Blaine focused on projecting his deepest glare, hoping it adequately conveyed the ‘fuck you’ he was attempting to communicate.

Santana merely scoffed at him, stepping further into the room.  “Hummel,” she said coldly, a hint of exasperation in her tone.  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”

Blaine watched as Kurt’s eyes darkened, and though he knew it was useless he instinctively stepped in front of his soulmate, as if he could keep the taller man safe from Santana’s hate.

To Blaine’s surprise, she turned her attention instead to the guard.  “Untie them and leave,” she ordered.

“But ma’am…” the guard said weakly, eying the group of them with suspicion.  “I don’t think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Santana snapped. 

Blaine watched in confusion as Kurt and then the girl next to him were freed of their bindings, the guard fumbling and clearly nervous as he worked and then made a hasty exit.

“What the hell is going on, Santana?” Blaine demanded, not sure whether to feel perplexed or angry. 

“I’d like to know the same,” Kurt’s voice startled Blaine, as did the confidence within it.

“You’re Santana?” the blonde said quietly, an odd look about her as she watched the other woman.  Blaine stared at her, trying to figure that out, and Kurt raised an eyebrow at the girl before speaking again.

“Brittany, this is Santana Lopez, Head of Security, and my soulmate, Blaine Anderson.  Santana,” he nodded in her direction, face still cold, “this is Brittany Evans.”

Now that he had heard the name, Blaine remembered her.  He had met her briefly his first summer in Dalton, at a festival.  His friend Wes had seemed rather enthralled by the girl and had eagerly whispered in his ear many tales of the Children of the Source, how their magic helped to keep the Source going strong.

He was about to say something but caught himself when he saw the expressions both girls’ wore.  There were tears in their eyes, and the look on Brittany’s face could only be described as awe, while Santana looked almost fearful—a first in all the time Blaine had known her.  Kurt was staring at them too, Blaine noticed, but appeared to have at least some idea of what was going on.

“Santana,” Brittany whispered almost reverently.  She stepped forward as if to embrace the other girl, or maybe just to reach out and touch her, but Santana threw her hands up in a clear indication to stop.

“No,” she said, shaking her head furiously and backing towards the door.  “No, I just… I can’t.”  Then, abruptly, she turned and fled.

Brittany collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she hugged herself tight and rocked back and forth, Kurt dropping to her side to take her in his arms.

“She’ll come around,” Kurt told the broken girl, smoothing back her hair.  “Just give it some time.”

The blonde girl almost disappeared in his arms, crying into Kurt’s shoulder while Blaine watched helplessly, still trying to piece this all together.  “How did you know?” Blaine heard her ask, though the sound was muffled.  “Is it because you’re a dolphin?”

Kurt smiled sadly, looking away from Brittany to meet Blaine’s eyes.  “No sweetie.  I recognized the look in your eyes from the moment I first met Blaine.”

And finally, Blaine understood.

Brittany Evans was Santana’s soulmate.

*******

Santana didn’t come back, but Terri appeared a good while later.  Considering the crying girl with sympathy, she gently pried her from Kurt’s arms and dried her tears, then announced that Brittany was to be given her own rooms and began guiding the girl towards the door. 

“Wait,” Blaine said, and Terri paused and looked back at him.  “You said rooms, right?  She’s not going to a cell.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt her,” Kurt said fiercely.  He looked like he meant it, and Blaine couldn’t help the shudder of pride and affection that ran through him.  He’d never seen Kurt quite like this before, so strong and sure.

“A room, I promise,” Terri addressed Blaine.  “It’s just down the hall from yours.”  She turned then to Kurt, studying him for a moment before finally offering, “No one’s going to hurt her.  She’ll be safe.”

Kurt nodded reluctantly.  “What about me?  Where do I go?”

Terri shrugged, turning back to Brittany and ushering her away.

Brittany hardly seemed to notice.

“Is that wise?  We don’t really know where they could be taking her…” Kurt questioned once they were alone, picking himself gracefully up off the hard floor and wincing as he flexed his legs. 

“I don’t think Santana will hurt her,” Blaine said honestly.

“Yeah,” Kurt stepped closer, until he was pressed right up against Blaine’s chest.  “I don’t really think so, either.  But she’s different than when I knew her.”  He paused, laughing a little.  “Well, maybe not so different, but the sass was never directed at me before.”

He wound his arms around Blaine’s neck, body almost melting against Blaine’s own.  Blaine held him tight, tighter.  His mind was still a mess because Kurt.  All he could do was breathe him in.

“She didn’t hurt you,” Kurt said finally, voice soft in Blaine’s ear.  “You’re here.  You’re here, and you’re whole, and you’re safe.”

“You’re here,” Blaine echoed dumbly.  “You shouldn’t be here, I wanted—I had hoped you’d stay there, where it’s safe.”

Kurt chuckled weakly.  “Safe?  What is safety, if I can’t have you?  Source, Blaine, I didn’t know where you were!  You could have been dead, you could have been anywhere, do you even know what that felt like?”

Blaine cupped his head, marveling at the softness of Kurt’s hair without its usual product.  He pulled back just enough and kissed him.  “Sorry,” he whispered between their lips.  “Sorry, I never meant to… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s ok now,” Kurt told him.  He stepped back, looked around.  “I’d hardly call this ideal, but at least we’re together.”

Blaine smiled, catching his hand and tugging.  “Come to my rooms.  We really should talk.”

Kurt looked at him then, looked into his eyes.  Kurt’s were blue green perfect, better than Blaine had remembered them in the long month they had been apart. 

“Yes,” Kurt said, his voice a little breathy.  “But… can we wait to talk?  I just… I really need to feel you, Blaine.”

Could he run on his leg?  Blaine was lucky he was even thinking enough to question it.  “We can talk later,” he assured, watching Kurt’s eyes flutter shut as Blaine traced his fingers around Kurt’s face.

They didn’t run.  Hands and arms and legs pressed impossibly close together, they quickly walked the entire way to Blaine’s rooms.

*******

When they got there, the world came to a sudden halt, Kurt staring at Blaine from where he was leaning up against the door he had closed behind them.  Kurt was smiling at him coyly, a little desperate like Blaine felt, and Blaine didn’t know whether to pull him to the bed or press him there against the wood.

Eventually, Kurt decided for him, stepping up against him and walking them back, back to fall on top of the mess of sheets Blaine had left there that morning. 

“You don’t make the bed,” Kurt said, crawling up to fold himself against Blaine’s chest like he could bury himself there, and in a way Blaine wished he could.

“No,” Blaine said, straining up to kiss him, but Kurt was having none of it.  “I’ll bet you do.”

“I do,” Kurt agreed.  He unfurled himself slowly, leaning back from where he was straddling Blaine’s waist to peel off his own shirt.  His skin was pale and flawless, better even than Blaine remembered save for a few smudges of dirt that had worked their way through rips in the fabric.  Every instinct in him wanted to touch and so he did, smoothing his hands across the expanse of Kurt’s chest, trailing them down his torso to grip at his waist and finally, finally tug him forward into a kiss.

Kurt gave in to it easily, half-falling onto Blaine’s lips, tongue sweeping in to meet Blaine’s almost immediately.  His hands were spread apart, inching up Blaine’s stomach and dragging Blaine’s shirt with them, and only then did Blaine note how grimy his skin felt.

“I’m probably gross,” he said against Kurt’s mouth, the words breaking into a groan.  “I—mmm—was boxing, before this.”

Kurt pulled away then, looking down at Blaine with eyes that glittered with amusement.  “And the guards were kind enough to stop and let me have a shower before they brought us in. Really, Blaine?”

He didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, and Blaine happily twisted to help Kurt work off his shirt, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man as soon as he’d tossed it aside.

The skin of Kurt’s neck tasted a little like sweat and mostly like earth but Blaine didn’t care, squirming to move his mouth lower down Kurt’s body from beneath him.  When that proved more difficult than it was worth, he pushed Kurt off to the side of him, regretting the force when a little “oof” sound left Kurt’s mouth upon impact but rolling onto him just the same.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, all breath and sharpness where his nails dug into Blaine’s back.  “Always have to be in control.”

“Not true,” Blaine protested as he nuzzled against Kurt’s stomach, delighting in the soft scratch of hair against his cheek.  “It’s just easier to devour you this way.”

“That’s not very fair to me,” Kurt whined.

Blaine smiled at him, stretched up to take his mouth again, let himself fall down against the heat of Kurt’s body.  Kurt was so utterly beautiful beneath him, smooth and soft and pale where Blaine was coarse and dark.  More than all of that, he was solid and real and present, whimpering unabashedly against Blaine’s lips as Blaine rutted against him, the sound as reassuring as it was arousing.

He pulled away to rest his forehead against Kurt’s own, looking down into his soulmate’s eyes.  “When I pictured our reunion, I must admit there were less clothes.”

Kurt blinked, smiled at him sweetly, hand gripping tightly around the back of Blaine’s head with long fingers threaded through his curls.  “I only pictured you alive,” he whispered.

Blaine kissed him then, softer, loving the feel of Kurt’s hands stroking down his back as they moved to the front of his waist, loosening the string there and easing his pants down his legs, boxers catching to follow as they went.  Kurt tackled his own pants next, the jeans a little more difficult to maneuver, and Blaine didn’t want to stop touching him to help but he did when it was necessary.

And then it was just them, bare legs tangled and the sharp jut of Kurt’s hip against his and the hard heat of their cocks, all pressed together and no power on Earth could keep Blaine still even though part of him wanted to stop and memorize this, treasure it in a way that was only possible after everything is almost lost.

Kurt moved with him, thrusting up the best he could with so much weight holding him down.  He threw his head back and Blaine found his throat, taut white skin and the pulse of Kurt beneath Blaine’s lips matching the beating of his own heart.  Soon everything was hot and slick and frenzied and they were racing together, clutching each other fast and tight.

Kurt came first, wailing into Blaine’s hair, and then the slide of it was a little easier and Blaine held Kurt there, fingers digging into his hips as he moaned his release into the crux of Kurt’s neck.  Kurt was already coming down, his fingers combing gently through Blaine’s curls and his other arm wrapped tight around Blaine’s back, keeping him close.

It soon became sticky itchy cold, the drying of their sweat causing both men to shiver, but still they lay there for a long time without moving.

Finally, Kurt carefully pried himself from Blaine’s arms, pulling Blaine with him into the tiny adjoining bathroom.  Kurt fixed the water in the shower and they both crammed into the small space, sharing the hot spray as they washed.  When they were finished Blaine hurried back into the room, water dripping all around him, to grab two fluffy towels and spare pairs of underwear and pajamas from the chest of drawers, hurrying back to loop a towel around Kurt’s shoulders and drag him forward into a kiss, inhaling the clean scent of his skin before pulling away to dry himself.

When they were clean and dry and dressed again they crawled under the blankets, huddling together in the warmth despite the chill long having passed.  Blaine watched Kurt, memorized his face as he pressed his lips against Blaine’s shoulder and then peered up at him, eyes the truest blue and so earnestly full of love, it stole Blaine’s breath away. 

“Do you want to talk now?” he asked quietly.

Blaine smiled at him, kissed his nose because he couldn’t help himself and curled his arms around Kurt’s back.  “Sleep now.  You must be exhausted.  Talking can wait until you’ve gotten some rest.”

Kurt’s hand closed over his waist and he tried to smile back but yawned instead, as if the mere suggestion of sleep made his body suddenly realize its own fatigue.  “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, snuggling into Blaine gratefully.  But just when he was settled, his eyes opened once more.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Blaine wondered if it was possible for the human heart to physically swell.  “I know,” he said softly.  “I love you too.”

Kurt fell asleep with a smile on his face, so peaceful there in Blaine’s arms.  It may have been minutes or hours or days before Blaine joined him, too caught up in the image before him to give easily into sleep.

*******

When he woke Kurt was still fast asleep, and Blaine really needed to pee but he didn’t want to leave him.  Kurt’s legs were hopelessly intertwined in Blaine’s own and when he tried to carefully pull them away Kurt stirred, mumbling a little and stretching as he began to wake.

“I’ll be right back,” Blaine said low into his ear. 

He finished as quickly as he could, returning to find Kurt sitting up in bed, blankets pulled around his waist and a sleepy smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he offered, reaching out for Blaine as he walked back towards the bed.

Crawling onto it, Blaine settled himself behind Kurt, pulling the other man back to rest against his chest.  It was awkward because Kurt was taller but it felt right, and Kurt leaned against him and didn’t complain.  “I’m not sure it is morning.  Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.  They didn’t exactly bother to feed us on the way here.”

“They usually send me my meals, but Santana’s been cool with me raiding the kitchens…”

“Can we talk first?” Kurt twisted around to look at him.  “There’s just a lot of heavy stuff to go through, and we’ve put it off, and I don’t think I can eat until things feel more… settled.”

Blaine forced his thoughts away from the gnawing hunger of his own stomach and offered Kurt a reassuring smile.  “Yes, of course.  What would you like to discuss first?”

Kurt sighed, looked down at his hands and was silent for a moment.  Blaine watched him as he waited, anticipating and dreading what was likely coming.  “I guess what I really want to know is: why are you here?”

“Well,” Blaine began, wondering how to say this.  He didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t sure what was true.  “I don’t know, really.  I have my theories…”

“Mike said that maybe you planned it.” Kurt interrupted, his voice quiet and careful.  “I didn’t believe him, and then we heard you were here and I thought it can’t be true.  Please tell me that it isn’t.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, dumbfounded.  He shifted a bit until he could comfortably take the other man’s face in his hands, make Kurt look at him.  “Of course I didn’t plan it.  I would never do that to you.  I swear it.”

He could read the relief in Kurt’s eyes, feel it in the sag of his shoulders.  “Thank Source,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss Blaine.  He pulled back quickly, met Blaine’s eyes again.  “I didn’t believe him,” he repeated.

“I know you didn’t,” Blaine said earnestly, pressing their foreheads together for a few moments before resuming his prior position.  “So you know I told you… the barrier, it keeps out people with ill intent,” he began cautiously.

Kurt nodded against his chest.  “I know, Mike mentioned that too.”

“I wondered, maybe… my brother?  I’m not a bad person, Kurt, and I promise I’ve never planned to hurt him.  But you have no idea what he did, how easily he betrayed me.  I can’t deny that somewhere within me is something that wants to make him feel that, too.  It’s disgusting and base and I hate it, but it’s there.  I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, Blaine.  I… understand more than you know.  Please don’t be mad, but a few days after I woke up there without you, I went to see Cooper.  Mike didn’t want to take me but I insisted.  We talked; he told me his side of the story.”

Blaine inhaled sharply.  “I see,” he said simply, not trusting himself with more.

“I think you should talk to him,” Kurt pressed.  “I’m not saying that what he did was right, Blaine, not at all.  But it’s… different than what you might think.”

“Why don’t you just tell me then?”  Blaine’s voice was cold, the words coming out before he could rework them.

“It’s… not my place,” Kurt answered softly.

“It wasn’t your place to speak with him to begin with!” 

Kurt pulled away from him then, just a little, folding his arms around himself.  Blaine took them and righted them again, wrapping Kurt up in his own.  “I’m sorry,” he said into Kurt’s hair.  “I shouldn’t have snapped.  I didn’t mean it.  This is a touchy subject for me.”

Kurt nodded, didn’t move away.

“Let’s save the rest of this for later?  Cooper, I mean.  There are more pressing things.”

“Okay,” Kurt whispered.  “There’s just… one more thing you should know.”

He took a deep breath, pausing to turn and look at Blaine, who waited patiently for him to continue.  “He’s here.  Or he probably is, by now.  He wanted to come, to help find you.  The resistance didn’t like it, but I may have… swayed their opinion.”

Blaine closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to stay calm.  “Okay,” he said when he could manage it.  “I think we should change the subject now.  I’d like to hear about why you’re here.”

He could almost feel Kurt relaxing in his arms, his voice when he spoke easier, more matter-of fact—more the Kurt that Blaine knew.  “I should think that’s rather obvious.  I woke up; you weren’t there.  That was far from okay.  So I came to find you.  Really, the whole resistance did, though it’s part of a larger plan.  They’re all set up at a safe house about a two days walk from here.”

“Okay,” Blaine said slowly, piecing the information together and trying to understand.  “But how are you here?  You and Brittany?”

“Well…” Kurt began, and it was obvious to Blaine that he was stalling a little.  “I sort of got tired of waiting there.  It had been weeks Blaine, and nothing was moving forward!  We sat around the house bickering and making signs and discussing the same politics over and over until I couldn’t stand it anymore.  So I decided to come and find you myself.”

“I take it that didn’t go entirely according to plan?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kurt said defensively, then deflated.  “But no, getting caught was not part of the plan.  Brittany was hiding us—that’s why I brought her along—but by chance, a couple of guards wandered too close while we were packing up camp in the morning.  They heard us, and then they could see us—I guess that’s how the whole magic thing works—and so we’re here.  So far, I’d say it worked out a lot better than I’d hoped.”

Blaine sighed, rubbing his hand across his face.  “I’m sorry, but it was foolish, Kurt.  You had no idea what would happen when you got here.  You could be lying beaten in one of the cells in the basement right now—and yes, there’s several there, I saw them.  They even have people in a few of them.  Or worse, you could be dea —“ he choked on the word, not wanting to even think it.

“I knew that you were here and were alive, or had been several weeks ago.  I knew that Santana was in charge of this place.  I had hoped… well… we were good friends once, she and I, back in high school.  I was hoping that would mean something.”

“It did,” Blaine said.  “It’s the only reason I’m alive.”

“And I’m so grateful,” Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his and squeezed it gently.  “But she was such a bitch, back there…”

“She’s okay.  Really confusing though.  We had just been fighting, actually.  I probably put her in a mood.”

“What do you think she’ll do with us?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine told him honestly.  “I don’t think she’ll hurt us, but I know it’s been risky for her, me being here.  Some of the guards are beginning to talk.  Now with you, and Brittany, and I know she doesn’t really approve of our relationship…”

“I’ll talk to her,” Kurt promised.  “I’ll figure out where we stand.”

“Sounds good,” Blaine agreed.

Silence settled between them, and Blaine wondered if it was too soon to bring up eating again.  He decided to risk it.

“So, about that food…”

“Yeah,” Kurt smiled at him.  “Let’s go.”

They climbed off the bed, linking hands and heading for the door, when Blaine stopped suddenly, Kurt halting a few steps in front of him.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, concern etching his face.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really proud of you, you know,” Blaine told him, feeling tears prickling at his eyes.  “You coming here, it was stupid.  And it wasn’t what I would want for you.  But I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, and knowing how strong you are, how hard you fought for me… it only makes me love you more.”

Kurt’s face softened, and he tugged on their hands until Blaine was wrapped up in a hug.  “I could find all the strength in the world within me if I needed it for you, Blaine,” he said softly into his ear.  He pulled away, expression giddy.  “Unless you keep starving me.  Food, Anderson.”

Blaine grinned back.  “I’m on it,” he swore. 

Together, they ventured forth in search of the kitchens.