Chapter 13:

"Where did you learn to play piano?"

Blaine's voice broke across the comfortable silence of the afternoon, drifting across the library to where Kurt sat perched on the stool, his fingers tinkling over the keys in an arrangement of abstract notes.

***

The encroaching morning had inevitably separated them. Blaine, needing to deal with the imminent interruption from Seth with work-related issues, had left Kurt's room shortly after the sun had fully risen, leaving the other man to shower and gingerly examine his injuries in the bathroom mirror. He'd been startled by the mottled patterns dotting his skin in a strange marble effect of bruises and grazes from the unforgiving ice, but registering the already diminished colours and their gradual healing.

A visit from a Dr. Reynolds, who by all accounts had cared for Kurt during the fever, had occupied his morning. The obligatory examination was followed by a prescribed dose of heavy duty painkillers and a stern warning never to venture out in a blizzard again unless he wanted to finish himself off. Kurt refrained from telling him that had been the unspoken intention. He'd been embarrassed by the attention at the time, annoyed by the fuss he'd caused and wanting desperately to be left alone, but the surprisingly kindly face and administrations of the doctor had won him over and he'd found himself longing to ask questions about the Anderson family and Blaine's childhood.

He'd refrained of course, knowing that no matter what change had occurred between himself and Blaine in the previous twenty-four hours, the young man was still a Lord and he was still very much his Sub. However, it had been Dr. Reynolds himself who had broached the subject of the young Anderson just as he was packing up to leave. He'd fidgeted slightly with his bag, dancing between clearly wanting to say something but struggling with himself and his duty.

"Did you know it was Lord Blaine who found his mother's body after her fall?" The older man's voice had cut across the room, startling Kurt with the utter randomness of the statement. He'd looked up, puzzled as the doctor continued.

"I found them both at the foot of the stairs," his head shook at the memory, "He was only sixteen, just a boy, kneeling in his own mother's blood as he tried to revive her." He'd kept his eyes fixed on Kurt. "Terrible tragedy for one so young really. I'm not sure a person ever truly gets over seeing something like that." He paused and shifted his bag a little before lowering his voice a little further and looking pointedly at Kurt. "Of course, he had his father and Seth to help him through it....you know Seth was the only other person in the house that night...." He'd trailed off, unspoken meaning hanging in the air between them as Kurt tried to process what he thought the doctor was implying. Then suddenly Dr. Reynolds had smiled and the tension had been broken as he'd gathered up his bag again and moved towards the door. "You're lucky Blaine was there last night. That he found you in time....you should thank him. He saved your life."

Kurt had dozed fitfully for the rest of the morning, the doctor's words infiltrating his dreams and leaving him unsettled. He'd given up on sleep around midday and had wandered aimlessly down corridors before finding himself drawn to the library. It was here he'd discovered Blaine, surrounded by paperwork and coffee, curled up in the soft leather of the armchair.

Kurt had been nervous at first, again wondering which man he was going to be greeted by and had immediately retreated, intending to leave the Lord alone and cautious not to disturb him. But Blaine had smiled tentatively when he'd spotted him before slightly more forcefully telling him to stay and play for him. The Sub hadn't even registered the command until he was midway through the sonata and even then he was startled only by how little it bothered him. Instead, both men let the music waft over them and float around the stacks, dancing in and out of the dust beams the afternoon cast across the ancient volumes.

***

"Where did you learn to play piano?"

Kurt hovered his fingers over the keys, pausing to look across the top of the instrument at Blaine. The Lord had laid aside his papers now and a soft, almost relaxed look had settled over his features as he regarded Kurt.

"My mother." he replied quietly, his eyes settling on the keys again before he removed his fingers and placed them both in his lap with a sigh. They hadn't done this. Talked ... given details, and Kurt was apprehensive at the increased vulnerability opening up to Blaine would bring, but he also knew that if they were to get past this, if he was asking Blaine to change, to trust, then he'd have to offer the same in return. His fingers trembled again as he took a deep breath and settled them back against the comfort of the keys.

"My mother was a session pianist at the Opera House. I think my first ever memory is sitting between her knees on the piano stool as she rehearsed...." As he spoke, his fingers automatically began to play a random melody, notes flowing from his hands as the memories guided them. "I used to rest my hands on top of hers so that I could follow the movement as they skittered across the keys. They were always so graceful, her fingers; I think I remember the soft skin of her hands beneath mine more than anything else about her ..." he trailed off as his fingers continued to play, Blaine watching him intently from the other side of the room.

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly, the music lulling him into a strange feeling of openness, a weightless feeling settling over him.

"She died when I was eight." Kurt said so simply that Blaine didn't think he was going to elaborate, but Kurt's voice continued, quiet and almost dreamlike over the soft chords. "She was run over by a limousine walking home from a concert one evening. It was snowing and the chauffer was rushing; it skidded and..." he stopped playing suddenly, his fingers falling to his lap again as he forced Blaine to meet his eyes and his voice became mechanical and cold. "They didn't stop. Hit her, then just drove off unconcerned. Just another woman. Just another nameless face."

Blaine swallowed thickly; the obvious insinuation that a Lord was responsible for his mother's death hung between them and he felt his stomach twist as Kurt began playing again, this time the notes falling slightly more heavily. Standing up gently and moving nearer, Blaine carefully sat down on the stool beside Kurt, the sub shifting automatically sideways to make room for his Lord.

Their shoulders brushed softly and Kurt watched as Blaine cautiously lifted his left hand and rested it over Kurt's right. He was startled once again by the stark contrast between their skin tones, the tanned fingers of his Lord's hand ghosting over the contours of his own as they drifted across the keys.

"My mother died too." Blaine began quietly, watching their ever moving hands slightly hypnotically. "Two years ago. She fell down the stairs in the entrance hall. Died instantly."

Kurt remained silent, giving Blaine time to speak. It seemed unnatural to him and Kurt wondered if Blaine had ever been able to speak about this; speak about anything that actually mattered to anyone really.

"I found her." He said simply, looking towards Kurt as if to gauge his reaction. Kurt merely nodded, unblinking but hearing Dr. Reynold's words repeating in his head again from earlier.

"My father was away on business as usual and I ... shit - I nearly didn't see her. I'd been out running and ... I was wearing headphones so I wasn't really paying attention and I skidded slightly and well, it made me look down ..." Blaine's face had become strangely immobile, expressionless as the words spilled out of his waxed lips. He seemed so alone with his memories that Kurt was startled when the sound of his own name brought him back into focus.

"It was so red, Kurt. Just ... red, everywhere and I didn't see her until after ... I just saw blood everywhere; all over the marble and my trainers and ... her body. It was so, so twisted. Unnaturally twisted and just kind of crumpled. She didn't look real to me anymore."

Blaine's voice was small now but it filled the silence of the library, the music long since stopped and their hands now resting limply against the cold keys. Saying nothing, Kurt squeezed gently at the fingers he held before slipping himself carefully out from behind the piano and breaking contact.

He gazed out over the frosted gardens, his eyes scaling the peaks of the mountains standing proud beyond the walls and then following the lines upwards into the evaporating blue nothingness above. A faint cloud trail was the only visible signal that life existed beyond the house; beyond the world of unending extravagance and unacknowledged pain.

"When I was little, my father would tell me stories of a little prince who lived in a remote castle hidden away in the mountains. He would point to this range of mountains" he gestured vaguely to the scene outside the window, "and say that up there, in the hidden darker shades of grey, where the snow hadn't quite reached and where the evening light would just touch the shadows of the crags, was a magical world, beyond even our comprehension. A world where people had whatever they needed and all the food and clothes and jewels they could conceive." Blaine's eyes flickered around the room, seeing for the first time the grotesque opulence but remaining silent; just watching the pale outline of Kurt's profile as he stared out over the bleached watercolour outside.

"In these stories, the little prince would have amazing adventures, days spent lost in the caves of the mountains or on expeditions to the great lakes that he told me lay just the other side of the range. He would meet strange and wonderful creatures; wood nymphs and giants and anything else my father could fill my innocent mind with. And I lapped them up. My world was so narrow and sheltered and I wanted so desperately to be the little prince in his vast mansion." Kurt laughed but the humour lay in the absurdity of it all and both men knew it. He turned back to the young Lord, now looking so fragile, perched on the piano stool and once again registered just how small the other man really was, his narrow shoulders hunched over the instrument as he listened.

"It never occurred to me at the time but as I got older those stories never seemed to sit as easy with me. He was always alone you see. The little prince. He was always on these adventures alone and yes, he picked people up on the way but they never came back with him. When I got to hear the end of the stories, on the rare occasions I didn't fall asleep before my father could finish, the little prince always found his way home and would sneak into the house and back into bed unnoticed by his parents or servants. He was always safe ... but he was always alone." He turned back to the window again, dragging his eyes from the searching honeyed stare. "I think my father used the stories as a way to make me feel better about being alone myself. Gave me an opportunity to sneak away into my fantasy world that was so much more promising than the reality. I always thought that's what it was. A fantasy. A fairy-tale with no connection to my life. That's why it was so exciting. It wasn't real. The prince had his world and I had mine and never the twain shall meet."

"But the problem with fairy-tales, they were never meant to end ‘happily-ever-after', were they?"

Kurt smiled wryly, "No, I guess not." The silence wrapped around them chokingly again as all the meaning behind Kurt's story hung heavily in the air. It was too much and Kurt laughed suddenly, the incongruous sound in the silent tension making Blaine's head snap up in confusion. Kurt's face was twisted in an attempt at seriousness again but was failing miserably as he tried to supress the giggles that were threatening. "I'm sorry" he said before giving in and erupting into a, perhaps slightly hysterical, fit of giggles.

"What on earth could be funny in all of this?" Blaine demanded, trying to sound offended but instead succumbing to the infectious smile on his Sub's face and breaking into a wide smile himself.

Gasping through his attack of giggles, Kurt struggled to speak. "I'm sorry. It ... it's just, I couldn't help it. I just ... I was thinking about fairy-tales and ... well ... trying to think of any that end ‘happily'. It certainly didn't end happily for the wives of Bluebeard," He smirked again, "or ... or ..."

"The Little Mermaid?" Blaine supplied, as Kurt doubled over again and the Lord finally allowed himself to chuckle as well. The sound was utterly unfamiliar to him and he clamped a hand over his mouth to try and swallow it down but it was too late. They were both gone, days of tension and misery finally giving way to childish humour and uncontrollable laughing as they ran through the list of dark fairy-tales they could think of.

"Necrophilia in Snow White."

"Infanticide in The Pied Piper."

"Not to mention paedophilia."

"Doesn't Little Red Riding hood die in the original?"

"... and cannibalism in Hansel and Gretel!"

At the last offering, Kurt slumped, exhausted against the window, knees bent and back pressed against the cool glass as his body continued to shake with the aftermath of his giggles. Blaine came over to sit beside him, mirroring his position and bumping their shoulders together as they eventually got control of themselves. Kurt looked at him sideways and smiled. "I think I'm slightly hysterical. I haven't laughed like that for years."

"I don't think I've laughed like that ever." Blaine said, his eyes becoming a little more serious as the reality of the statement sunk in. Kurt nudged him again gently. "You should do it more. It's a good sound." Without thinking, Blaine leaned forward and captured Kurt's lips beneath his in a gentle and soft kiss. It was quick and sweet and when they pulled away both men seemed lighter somehow, as if all of the laughing and silliness had tethered them closer together.

"You've got a sick mind, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine laughed again, jabbing him teasingly in the arm.

"Ha! You, Lord Anderson, bring out the worst in me." The words weren't lost on either of them and they lapsed into thoughtful silence as both contemplated the truth behind the flippant remark. Shuffling a little closer and reaching a little more confidently for his Sub's hand this time, Blaine spoke quietly into the twilight that had encroached into the library.

"I'm pretty sure you bring out a better side of me."

***

Casual conversation filtered through the library that evening as the two men pushed aside their recent history and offered fragments of themselves. The night had definitely drawn in; shadows danced over the dusty volumes and the warm glow from the table lamp cast a soft play of light and dark over the contours of the men's faces as they talked. They'd long since relocated to the plush leather of the sofa and were now comfortably curled up, knees angled towards each other and feet occasionally brushing as they retold stories and memories. The topics remained safe, both men keeping their distance from the darker pasts that they'd each experienced and both adhering to some unspoken agreement that for this evening, at least, they would just be boys again.

Kurt had done most of the talking. Blaine, still unused to divulging much of himself, was skilful at diverting questions back to the other man, but he remained thoughtful and attentive throughout; seemingly displaying a genuine interest in his Sub's thoughts and opinions and his own eyes sparking with obvious pleasure at the excitement on Kurt's face as he discussed his childhood in a string of amusing anecdotes.

Nursing his glass of red wine, enjoying the intoxicating taste of the heavy liquid as it touched his lips, Kurt smiled gently at the man across from him. The wine had made both of them slightly bolder and their usually present awkwardness had been gradually replaced with teasing banter that Kurt would have almost gone so far as to call flirting. He felt braver now with the cloak of the darkness and the ever present smile on his Lord's face.

"Right, its quick-fire question time! You have been far too quiet all evening Blaine, and there is no escaping me any longer." He waggled his eyebrows in mock seriousness which made the Lord giggle again and kick him playfully with his toes before taking a tellingly large gulp of his own wine. 

"Ok ... but you don't get to ask all the questions."

"Of course not! Where would the fun be in that? No, we get to take turns - and you have to say the first question that comes into your head otherwise it doesn't work."

Blaine schooled his face into an overt display of thoughtfulness and sat up pointedly straighter making Kurt laugh again.

"Right, so I'm going first." Kurt began.

"Hang on, why do you get to go first?"

"Because I came up with the game and because you've barely answered anything all evening, Mr. Evasive." Kurt poked him in the shoulder for added emphasis while Blaine ‘hurrumphed' in fake irritation. "Hmmm, so ok ... what to ask ... what to ask. Ooh, I know! What was your favourite book as a child?"

"That's it? That's the big insightful thing you've wanted to drag out of me all evening?!" Blaine said in disgust.

"Just answer the question, Blaine. It's supposed to be quick, hence the name of the game. God, you're even deflecting this. Anyone would think you were a politician, Lord Anderson."

"Ah, Deflection and Evasion: How to be a Lord - lesson one."

"Still doing it."

"Still fun. OK. OK ... hey ..." he held up his hand in surrender as Kurt threatened to hit him with a cushion. "The Secret Garden. Your turn. What was the first song you learned to play on the piano?"

"Puff the Magic Dragon. Favourite subject at school?"

"I didn't go to school."

"Blaine ..."

The Lord smirked again, taking a long and leisurely sip of his wine and enjoying Kurt's exaggerated eye roll. "Math."

"Math? Who the hell enjoys math, freak?"

"It's not your turn!"

"Ugh - are you always such a rule-tyrant?"

"Only when it's to my advantage. And yes I like math. It's logical and makes sense and is emotionless."

"And hideous, but we'll side-step that one. So whose turn is it?"

"Mine. Favourite quote?"

"Ooh - good question ..."

"Thank you."

"Are you going to continue to interrupt your own questions?"

"If it continues to make you pull that face, then maybe ..."

"The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it."

"Peter Pan?"

"That's a question and it's not your turn. But yes. Greatest fear?"

"You."

The word was out before he'd had time to think and silence crashed down around them both as they stopped laughing and allowed the impact of what Blaine had just said to sink in. Kurt put his glass down carefully on the coffee table and fixed Blaine with open and questioning eyes. "I scare you?"

The Lord's eyes were averted but Kurt reached out gently and stroked his hand softly along his jaw, tilting it up slightly to force them to meet his own. "Blaine..?"

"I'm just not myself when I'm with you." He said quietly but with a flash of irritation which made Kurt's fingers recoil slightly.

"Maybe what's actually frightening is that you are yourself when you're with me." Kurt said with a little more bite than he intended, frustrated at himself for asking the question in the first place and having destroyed the peaceful truce they'd seemingly forged. Seeing the flinch and change in Kurt's tone, Blaine reached out quickly and took his hand in his, squeezing almost too tightly but attempting reassurance.

"No. Kurt, I don't mean it as a bad thing ... I don't think. I ... just ... I was always so in control and that felt good to me. It felt safe and like it was supposed to be, and now ... well, I don't feel in control when I'm with you, and that's frightening to me ..."

His voice trembled a little and Kurt watched him take another long swig of wine, draining the glass before replacing it on the table alongside Kurt's. He looked up again, his eyes a little darker and clouded, "You're still my Sub, Kurt and ... well, I'm still a Lord. Even if things have changed between us, and I know they have; I still have to be your Lord in public. I still have to tell you what to do and have to treat you a certain way and you're supposed to do it. You have to do it." It was the heavy note of resignation in his voice that made Kurt reach for him and move so his body was positioned over Blaine's, pushing him back a little against the arm of the couch and pressing his lips forcefully against the other man's. It was a kiss full of determination and purpose, closed-mouthed but one which left the Lord breathless when Kurt pulled away. "Wha ...?"

"... I don't care. I don't care, Blaine - what I have to do in public. I don't care as long as I get you when we're alone." Blaine looked at him in disbelief and Kurt pressed forward again, laying his weight against the other man's chest and hovering over his lips. "I will be your Sub, Lord Anderson. I will be your Sub in public and private if need be ... but you must be mine too. I need this in return; conversation, you letting me in, trust." He pressed his lips forward again, stealing the breath away from his Lord and silencing any protests he was about to make. "No retreat now." He licked a strip along Blaine's lips, feeling the man open up beneath him and enjoying the change in status his position afforded him. "I'm yours."

With the final power of the words Kurt whispered against his ear, Lord Anderson surged forwards, plunging his tongue into the enticing heat of his Sub's mouth and giving all remaining control over to their black desire.