They were home alone when it happened. Burt and Carole had gone to the cinema and Finn was at Rachel’s for what could only be the world’s most uncomfortable family dinner and so Kurt and Blaine had the house to themselves. Kurt had made Burt a solemn promise that they would not get up to anything and that he could trust them to behave themselves when they were alone together. Of course, once Blaine had come over in all his curly-haired, sparkly-eyed and casually scruffy glory, that promise had gone out the window. Kurt thought he really could not be blamed. It was not as if it was his fault that Blaine was too ridiculously handsome for his own good. And he had only been trying to help Blaine, who had had a bit of ice cream on his face from the dessert. After all, what sort of person would not help their boyfriend get rid of a bit of ice cream? So, on the whole, Kurt thought he really could not be blamed if he happened to be making out with his boyfriend a little bit. He was just being thorough, making sure there was absolutely no trace of ice cream left on Blaine’s face or in Blaine’s mouth.
They were on the couch in the living room when it happened. Kurt had just trailed a hand under the hem of Blaine’s shirt, when he found himself suddenly on the floor. He looked up at Blaine, who was scrambling off the sofa, and thought for a second that Burt and Carole must have come home early. Blaine had never been quite the same around Burt since that memorable afternoon they had decided to go through Kurt’s wardrobe to make room for his new clothes. When Burt had walked in on them, Kurt was wearing a faux-fur stole, a kilt and his big military boots, and Blaine was dressed in his old Gaga outfit, wobbling precariously on the high heels and giggling like a lunatic. The look on Burt’s face had wiped the grin off Blaine’s face and sent him toppling onto Kurt’s bed and he had not been able to look Burt in the eyes for weeks after. After a couple of seconds it became clear that they were still alone in the house and Kurt rolled his eyes. Really, Blaine needed to relax a little. His scathing remark died on his tongue, however, when he heard it: a faint, pulsating screeching noise growing ever louder until he felt the vibrations running up through his very bones. Blaine looked like a deer caught in a spotlight, a guilty, confused expression on his face as if he had somehow triggered the alarm, but was not sure exactly how. With a resounding “Klonk!”, the screeching stopped and everything was eerily silent. Kurt got up and looked at Blaine.
“What was that? Did your dad have you fitted with some sort of anti-groping device? Is this the alarm going off just now? Is he going to come running with his shotgun?”
“Blaine, relax! He doesn’t even have a shotgun. Besides, I think I would know if my dad had somehow put an alarm on me. I don’t think you can even do that to people. I’m a human being, not an Herm�s scarf, Blaine.”
The situation would have been funny if Blaine had not looked like he might faint at any minute. Kurt was not feeling too good himself, but tried to convince himself that this was probably just the hockey jocks from McKinley trying to pull a stupid prank. It would be their idea of fun, trying to spook the gay kid.
Knock, knock, knock.
Kurt suddenly found himself with an armful of Blaine, and this time he could not help but cling to him as whatever it was knocked again.
Knock, knock, knock.
“We should go see who it is.”
“Why?”
“They knocked on the door, Blaine. That’s sort of the standard solution. Besides, it might be dad or Finn. They forget their keys all the time.”
However, Blaine did not seem to want to let go of him, so they ended up doing a weird, shuffling, sideways walk to the door that Kurt was deeply grateful nobody was ever going to see. He opened the door and was immediately pushed aside as a tall, gangly man forced his way in. The man seemed out of sorts, bewildered, and he was wearing the strangest outfit; a very worn, ragged old suit, suspenders and bowtie and a fez. And a fedora. And a Stetson. And about five other hats as well, each on top of the other. He was talking to himself in an agitated voice and pacing the living room floor, pointing around with a strange little device that might have been a torch but for the buzzing sound it emitted. The stranger seemed not to notice their shocked stares as he continued to point his not-really-a-torch everywhere, finally letting out a shout of delight and racing up the stairs, leaving Kurt and Blaine to stare in bewilderment. They followed the whooping sounds to Kurt’s room, where the stranger had thrown open the doors to the wardrobe and was peering inside with interest. That stirred Kurt into action. This man had woken up the entire neighbourhood with that terrible noise, had forced his way into his home and done goodness knows what with his strange pointer thing. But now he was rooting through Kurt’s closet and that was the last straw. Kurt was not having any of it, and in two strides he reached the wardrobe and slammed the doors shut. The man looked up, puzzled.
“That is MY wardrobe. Those are MY clothes and you had better explain yourself right now or my boyfriend will beat the crap out of you!”
Behind him, Blaine let out a very non-threatening whimper.
The stranger stared for a moment, then broke into a wide, toothy smile.
“Of course, of course! Introductions. Where are my manners? I’m the Doctor and this is my sonic screwdriver. I call him Waldo. But enough about me, who are you wonderful people?”
“Er. I’m Kurt and this is Blaine, my boyfriend. Who can totally take you if you try anything.”
“Of course, of course. How very nice to meet you both.” And he kissed Kurt on the cheeks.
“Hey! Don’t kiss him! You don’t get to kiss him! He has a boyfriend! Plus, you’re much older than him, anyway. And he’s MINE!” Kurt once again found himself wrapped in Blaine’s arms, and even though he was pretty sure by now that the stranger was not going to disembowel them with an axe, he relished the feeling. He had not seen this possessive side of Blaine before and it made his knees go soft and gooey.
The stranger paid no attention, once again half-hidden in Kurt’s wardrobe, searching, it seemed, for something very important. Another excited shout and he popped out, clutching the bedazzled high heels Kurt had worn with his Gaga costume and which had so embarrassed Blaine.
“Ha! Here they are! Perfect! And the weight is just right. Could do with a bit more glitter, though.”
“What are you-“ Kurt began.
“Oh, er, I need these. For science.”
“For science?” Blaine looked sceptical. “What on earth would science want with nine inch high bedazzled heels?”
The stranger was silent for a moment.
“Would you believe me if I said I need them to battle an evil alien race?”
“No!”
“Excellent! Well, I’ll be off then. Thank you very much, have a lovely evening and don’t ever smoke; it’s a nasty habit. Oh, and if you see a weeping angel, don’t blink.”
And in a flurry of hats and wildly flailing limbs, and with that same screeching noise, he was gone. Kurt stood still for a moment, still caught in Blaine’s arms, before turning in his embrace so they were face to face.
“Well… that was weird.”
“Yeah. Um… is that a sausage? Did he actually drop a sausage while he was rooting around in your wardrobe?” Blaine looked mildly disgusted.
“I guess he did. Hey, was that jealous Blaine I saw before.”
Blaine blushed to the tips of his ears.
“Er… well. You wouldn’t like it either if some handsome stranger came up and kissed your boyfriend right in front of you. I just… I couldn’t help it,” he stuttered.
“I don’t think you understand. I wasn’t complaining. Now, why don’t you come lie down with me on my bed and tell me again how I’m yours?”
Blaine’s eyes went wide.