Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2010-12-09 04:16 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2010-12-09 04:16 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: The Transfer (Glee/Animorphs, Kurt/Blaine)
Title: The Transfer
Fandom: Glee/Animorphs
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Wordcount: 4,300
Summary: Glee/Animorphs crossover AU, hopefully accessible to people unfamiliar with Animorphs. Being a gay teenager in love is difficult enough even when you don't have an evil alien controlling your every move.
Warnings: May be upsetting for people who have experience of being possessed by Yeerks or, more seriously, who are uncomfortable with reading about a complete loss of control over one's own actions.
Notes: Written in response to this anonymous prompt. Why is everything I write for this pairing an absurd AU?
Far underneath McKinley High, in a cavern accessible only via a secret switch in the back of Sue Sylvester’s office, Kurt Hummel rattles the bars of his cage and sings.
-
It’s easy enough to see why the Yeerk in Kurt’s head begged to be transferred to Dalton Academy: it’s an expensive private school. A lot of the students there are going to have wealthy, influential parents. Perfect hosts for the invasion.
On his first day at Dalton, the Yeerk walks Kurt to all his classes and he tries to pay attention; it’s not as if exams are really going to matter when he has an alien wrapped around his brain, controlling his every action, deceiving his family and friends, but trying to learn is at least slightly more interesting than doing nothing at all. The teachers here seem good, he notes regretfully. He could have enjoyed studying here, if he’d come of his own free will.
He misses free will.
When classes are over, Kurt expects the Yeerk to go straight to their room and spend the evening doing absolutely nothing, but instead it glances at his watch (its watch, really; it was already in his head when it made him buy it) and then sets off in a completely different direction. He doesn’t work out where it’s taking him until he’s standing in front of a panel of three boys.
“Hello,” the Yeerk says, putting Kurt’s hand on his hip. “I’d like to try out for the Dalton Academy Warblers.”
Oh, God, he should have known this was going to happen. The Warblers are a high-status group, and the higher Kurt’s social status the more influence the Yeerk controlling him will have within the school. The Yeerk knows its host has the voice for it, so of course it’s going to try out.
Kurt hates it. His singing voice is his; somehow, using it for its own ends feels worse than almost anything else the Yeerk has done.
The Yeerk laughs at him in his head and launches into ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.
-
“Hey, Kurt,” says a voice he doesn’t recognise, as the Yeerk is walking him away from his successful audition. “Hold up.”
The Yeerk turns around, and Kurt sees a dark-haired, good-looking boy, smiling warmly at him.
“I was there for your audition,” he explains. “At the back of the room; I don’t think you noticed me.”
Kurt hadn’t noticed him; under his own power, he would have checked to see who was listening to him, but the Yeerk hadn’t bothered to look around.
The boy holds out a hand. “I’m Blaine.”
Kurt has heard that name before, he realises. Blaine is the lead singer of the Warblers. He feels the Yeerk take notice of his recognition.
“You’re the lead singer,” the Yeerk says, accepting the handshake.
“I am so glad you already knew that, because I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m just some creepy guy listening in for no reason,” Blaine says. “You’re an amazing singer. I just wanted to let you know I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Kurt would smile at that, so the Yeerk makes him smile. “Likewise.”
-
Blaine is obviously a powerful figure within the school, so the Yeerk sets about trying to get close to him. It hangs back to talk to him after rehearsals; it goes with him to the theatre; it asks him for help looking after the canary they’ve inexplicably been saddled with. For the Yeerk, of course, it’s a meaningless charade, but Kurt actually finds himself a little less miserable than usual; he enjoys Blaine’s company, or at least the weird, filtered version of Blaine’s company he gets where he has conversations with him without actually doing the talking himself, and Blaine has similar tastes to him in movies and musicals, so on their outings Kurt is watching things that actually interest him. He’s being driven places he actually wants to go, even if the driver is evil and won’t let go of the wheel.
One day, the Yeerk approaches Blaine after a Warblers meeting. Blaine is lounging by the window, looking a little irritated. Kurt can feel the Yeerk sifting through his thoughts for something to open a conversation, and apparently it comes up with Kurt’s amused surprise at one of the songs under discussion for their next performance. “‘Gotta Go My Own Way’?”
“I know,” Blaine says, with a roll of his eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like High School Musical probably more than any self-respecting musician should, but I know they suggested it just to mess with me.”
“Why would it mess with you?” the Yeerk asks, tilting Kurt’s head.
He laughs a little, glancing out the window. “It’s stupid, really. My ex-boyfriend broke up with me by singing that song.”
Something stops in Kurt’s brain. Boyfriend?
“You’re gay?” the Yeerk asks. It’s probably having trouble finding anything else to say, when he’s gay? is suddenly the only thought in its host’s head.
“Oh, did I not tell you?” Blaine asks, looking up at him, and if Kurt had control of his own body he’d excuse himself at this point and run off to panic about the revelation that’s just hit him twice as hard as his surprise at Blaine’s sexuality. Oh, God. He’s in love with Blaine. He’s in love with him, and he’s going to have to watch himself ruin his life.
-
The Yeerk’s behaviour around Blaine is subtly altered after the sexuality revelation; Kurt can’t be sure, but it seems to him that it’s being a little more flirty, a little more given to seemingly-casual physical touches, and it horrifies him. He doesn’t know whether the Yeerk is doing this just because it’s what Kurt might do or because it thinks it might have more influence over Blaine if it seduces him. He really, really hopes it’s not the latter, although even thinking about it has probably given the Yeerk ideas.
He wants Blaine to realise what’s going on, somehow, impossibly. He wants Blaine to get far, far away from him and the parasite in his head. But, to his shame, he also doesn’t want Blaine to suspect a thing, because then Kurt will never see him again.
It all goes – well, ‘it all goes wrong’ isn’t the right phrase, and not only because everything is wrong already, but it all changes after Blaine asks the creature with Kurt’s face to duet with him on ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’. The Yeerk takes the opportunity to ramp Kurt’s flirtatiousness up as far as possible, and Kurt can only watch with an increasing sense of dread.
At the end of the song, they collapse onto the couch, next to each other. They’re laughing, or Blaine is laughing and the Yeerk is pretending to laugh, and then Blaine says, “Hold still a moment,” and he cups a hand around Kurt’s neck and leans in and – and it’s the perfect first kiss Kurt always dreamed of, but it’s not real, it’s not for him. He wants to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, drawing back with an awkward grin. “I just really wanted to do that.”
The Yeerk makes Kurt lean in to kiss him back, and it’s all too painful. Kurt tries to pretend he’s somewhere else.
They end up cuddling on the couch, and it’d almost be nice if Kurt didn’t know this was going to destroy Blaine. He tries to forget about that, to concentrate on the warmth of Blaine’s arms around him. He can’t.
“I have to go,” the Yeerk says eventually, stirring with feigned reluctance. “I’m seeing a movie.”
“Oh, which one?”
“Sorry,” the Yeerk says. “I’d love to invite you along, but I can’t. It’s kind of a family thing.” It kisses Blaine again, quickly, on the corner of his mouth, and grins. “Don’t forget to miss me.”
-
A tabby cat winds around Kurt’s ankles as he’s unlocking his car; the Yeerk ignores it. One problem with the move to Dalton for the thing in Kurt’s head is that the local Yeerk pool isn’t as conveniently located as it was at McKinley; it’s under the movie theatre, a short drive away. It means it’s tougher for the Yeerk to disappear unobtrusively every three days, soak up whatever it is that keeps these hellish alien brain-slugs alive. Part of Kurt hopes that Blaine will notice something weird is going on, follow him to the pool, find out what’s happening to him, but he knows it’s never going to happen; who follows someone because they’re going to the movies suspiciously often?
When the Yeerk has slithered into the pool and Kurt, briefly and blissfully in control of his own body, has been forced into one of the cages, he doesn’t sing for once. He sits with his back against the bars, and he closes his eyes, and he thinks.
As far as it can, the Yeerk says the things Kurt would say, does the things Kurt would do, mimicking him perfectly in his own body, because it can’t risk suspicion. It would give up Kurt’s time-consuming skincare regimen if it could, but his dad would know something was up in seconds. If Blaine is in love with the person he thought he was kissing, even though Kurt hasn’t really spoken a word to him, he’s in love with Kurt. Not the Yeerk. Him.
It’s not how he wanted any of it, but it’s something.
-
He and Blaine have been together for a week now, or at least Blaine has been together with the Yeerk in his head, although Kurt prefers not to think about it like that. They’re curled up together on Blaine’s bed, fully clothed; they haven’t actually progressed past the making-out stage yet, which is probably a good thing. Blaine has his arm around him, his fingers idly tracing the curve of Kurt’s spine through his shirt, and if Kurt tries he can almost make himself believe that he’s in control of his own body again; this is exactly where he would choose to be, after all.
“Do you know about the Sharing?” the Yeerk asks.
Oh, no. Not now. Kurt can’t handle this.
Blaine’s fingers go still on Kurt’s back. “No,” he says. “What’s that?”
The Yeerk gives a quick laugh with Kurt’s voice. “It’s a kind of club, I guess.”
Don’t do this, Kurt begs in his mind, entirely ineffectually.
“I mean, we’ve already got the Warblers together, but it can be a little stifling in that choir room. And I’d like to do more things with you.”
Blaine looks dubious. “The Sharing?”
“I know,” the Yeerk says. “It’s a terrible name. Just give it a try. Come along to one of our meetings. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Don’t fall for it, Blaine.
“Okay,” Blaine says, and that’s it, they’ll get him and they’ll put one of these things into his ear and they’ll both be screaming prisoners inside their own heads for the rest of their lives.
“But,” Blaine adds, leaning over to rummage in his bedside drawer, “I’d like you to try something for me first.”
He comes up with a pair of gleaming handcuffs, and Kurt is convinced that it’s only because of his instinctive mental recoil at the sight of them that the Yeerk makes him smile coquettishly and hold out his hands, making its victory that much more complete. It’s irrational for Kurt to dislike the idea so strongly – he’s equally trapped whether he’s wearing cuffs or not, after all – but it would be fair to say that his ongoing Yeerk ordeal has given him more than a few control issues. Handcuffs symbolise imprisonment. He doesn’t want to associate one of the few good things in his half-life with that.
Plus he’s terrified that this might actually develop into something sexual. He’s already lost his first kiss. He can’t cope with the idea of taking a back seat to his own first time with the perfect person.
Blaine gestures toward the radiator, and the Yeerk obediently slips off the bed, kneels on the hard wooden floor, stretches Kurt’s hands out behind him to be chained. It’s uncomfortable and humiliating and Kurt decides to deal with it by just shutting himself off, not thinking until this is over.
What is he doing? the Yeerk asks in Kurt’s mind after a moment, distracting him from his not-thinking. It feels like Blaine is tying his legs together with rope.
Suddenly, the Yeerk throws Kurt’s body forward. The chain of the handcuffs pulls tight around the radiator. It achieves nothing but a sharp pain in Kurt’s wrists.
“Oh, have you figured it out?” Blaine asks pleasantly, withdrawing a safe distance away. “You’re not going to escape.”
Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a sexual scenario. Blaine’s eyes have gone very hard.
“I can’t believe it was that easy,” Blaine says. “You actually let me tie you up? What kind of idiot are you?”
Well, Kurt wasn’t expecting this. He’s misjudged Blaine all along, and that wrenches his heart even if it means that the Blaine in his head, the Blaine he loves, isn’t in danger; he doesn’t exist. It looks like Kurt isn’t the only person here with a dark secret. He really can’t trust anyone, whether they’re Yeerk-possessed or not.
Maybe Blaine is going to kill him. That would be something, at least.
“I know what you are,” Blaine says, leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” the Yeerk demands.
“Three days,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s heart just about stops. It’s been a long time since his mental and physical reactions last matched up like that, but the Yeerk is obviously as shocked as he is. “I’m going to keep you here for three days, maybe four to be certain, and then you can go and it’ll be very awkward, if you’re actually Kurt, or you can lie on the floor and die like the parasitic alien slug you are.” His tone is inappropriately, deliberately matter-of-fact; Kurt can hear the tremor beneath it. His hands are clenched into fists. He looks furious.
Oh, God. Blaine knows. Someone actually knows what has happened to him, and they’re going to try to stop it. Keep the Yeerk away from the Yeerk pool for three days; it can’t feed; it dies. Kurt is half-convinced he’s dreaming. He’d pinch himself if he were in command of his own muscles, but there’s no real need; the Yeerk is causing him enough physical pain already, desperately trying to struggle out of its bonds.
Blaine, not taking his eyes off Kurt, takes his cellphone out of his pocket, dials a number and puts it to his ear. “Hi, Wes? We’ve got a problem.” He pauses, frowning. “Bigger than Regionals. Kurt’s a Controller.”
Wes knows about Yeerks as well. This is incredible. Did Kurt somehow get transferred to a school full of alien hunters? Best decision he ever had to watch something controlling his every action make.
“Yeah, I’ve got him in my room, but I’ll need you to watch him when I’m asleep. You should grab a few hours now. Let David know as well, okay? Thanks.” He hangs up and looks at Kurt – not at Kurt, at the Yeerk controlling him, because he knows, and his voice takes on a harsh tone that Kurt has never heard there before. “Oh, you are in so much trouble.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! What’s a Controller? Let me go!”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
“Let me go!” the Yeerk shrieks. Tears are pouring down Kurt’s face. “Let me go! Why are you doing this? I thought you loved me!”
Blaine kneels down and looks into Kurt’s eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder. The Yeerk strains Kurt’s arms painfully against the handcuffs. I’ll claw his eyes out, it hisses in Kurt’s mind. I’ll make you tear his throat out with your teeth.
“I know you must be in there, somewhere,” Blaine says quietly, and with a thrill Kurt realises that Blaine is speaking to him, actually to him, not to the creature wearing his face. “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”
Kurt has no idea why he’s apologising, because this is literally the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for him in his life.
-
The Yeerk refuses to drink when Blaine holds a paper cup of water to Kurt’s lips. Blaine rolls his eyes.
“He can survive without water longer than you can survive without Kandrona rays. All you’re doing is making your final hours uncomfortable for both of you.”
“What the hell are Kandrona rays?” the Yeerk demands. “There’s no ‘he’ and ‘you’; there’s just me. I’m Kurt Hummel, and you’re killing me because you are insane.”
“If that’s true,” Blaine says, “and, by the way, it isn’t, you’re the one killing yourself. All I’m doing is holding you here for a few days. Drink the water, and if it turns out there’s no alien in your head I’ll let you go. You’ll never have to see me again.”
The Yeerk scowls, but it drinks, much to Kurt’s relief.
Several hours pass. Blaine doesn’t read, doesn’t use his computer; he just sits there, watching Kurt intently. The Yeerk alternates between swearing at him furiously and pleading that he’s Kurt, that he doesn’t know why Blaine is doing this to him, but eventually it abandons the pretence.
“I was always here,” the Yeerk snarls through Kurt’s teeth. “You never met the real Kurt. You have no reason to care about him.”
“Of course I do,” Blaine says, after a moment. “He’s still a person. Nobody should be enslaved like this.” He looks stricken, though. It pains Kurt to see his expression, but he doesn’t have the choice to look away.
Blaine doesn’t speak much after that. He stays awake until about three in the morning, but eventually he calls Wes up and asks him to watch. Wes comes in with David, and they play Scrabble together while Kurt’s body howls and shrieks and screams obscenities at them. Kurt finds himself wondering how many times they’ve done this before.
-
Blaine is on guard when the Yeerk finally gives in. The first thing Kurt is aware of is his muscles relaxing, but he doesn’t give that much thought; as he’s not the one pulling the strings, he’s used to feeling his body do things without knowing exactly why.
And then comes the pain, the sensation of something slithering down the ear canal he knows from countless visits to the Yeerk pool, and it’s as agonising as always but it’s also the best thing he’s ever felt, and he realises – he can move again. The thing that’s been tormenting him and controlling him for so long falls to the floor beside him, and he’s free.
It hasn’t yet been three days since the last feeding, so maybe the Yeerk has some delusional ideas of making a break for freedom, but they are immediately and literally squashed by the heel of Blaine’s shoe.
Blaine makes a face. “Well, that’s disgusting.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says. It comes out too quiet, barely audible. His only real exercise of his vocal cords for a long time has been singing in the Yeerk pool cages; he’s not used to just speaking.
Blaine stamps on the Yeerk a few more times, making sure, and then he scoops it up with a plastic bag and throws it in the trash. He comes back and crouches down next to Kurt, pulls a tiny key out of his pocket, unlocks the handcuffs. Kurt rolls his shoulders, awkwardly, wincing, and then he kisses the backs of both his hands, just because he can. It probably looks ridiculous. He doesn’t care.
“I’m going to put my hand on your back,” Blaine says, after untying Kurt’s legs. “Is that okay with you?”
Kurt nods. Blaine puts a hand on his back, rubbing in slow, careful circles.
“Is there anything you need?” Blaine asks. “Food? Water?”
Kurt blinks, twice, and then he bursts into tears. Blaine slips down from his crouch to sit next to him and pulls Kurt carefully into his arms.
“Hey,” Blaine says, gently, “it’s okay. That thing is dead now. You never have to go through any of that again.”
“I thought I’d never – ” Kurt begins, but he chokes on the words and ends up sobbing into Blaine’s shoulder again. He must be ruining his shirt, but Blaine doesn’t seem to mind. Some part of Kurt is embarrassed about appearing so vulnerable in front of him, but he’s spent all the time he’s known him up to now being piloted by an alien parasite, so it seems a slightly silly moment to worry about a loss of control.
They stay like that for a while, until Kurt has managed to calm himself down and stop shaking. Eventually, he draws back, out of Blaine’s embrace, nice though it is.
There is a brief silence. Blaine catches Kurt’s eye and quickly looks away.
“I am so sorry, Kurt,” Blaine says, after a moment. “I didn’t realise until it mentioned the Sharing. If I’d known, I’d never have...” He gestures, vaguely, and suddenly Kurt catches on.
“No,” he says, quickly, “you don’t have to apologise. It was fine. It was nice. Well, no, it was horrible, but only because I knew the thing controlling me was using it to try to get an alien slug into your brain. The actual kissing part, that was good. I was okay with that.”
“Okay,” Blaine says, looking immensely relieved. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it again for a while, though. Until I’ve gotten to know you as yourself, you know.”
“That makes sense,” Kurt concedes, with some reluctance.
Blaine presses a quick kiss to his forehead, and then he stands up and holds out a hand. Kurt takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, to stand, under his own power and uncaged, for the first time in two years.
-
Kurt lies down on his bed, looking forward to an evening of reading. It’s been a few weeks, but he’s still struck by how amazingly nice it is just to be able to do things to pass the time, now. The Yeerk would just sit motionless and do nothing when it wasn’t actively trying to take over the world, which wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating for its host.
His plans all collapse when there’s a cheep from just behind his left ear and he twists around to see Pavarotti standing on his bedpost.
Shit. Pavarotti has escaped. As problems go, it’s nowhere near the hell Kurt’s been enduring for the past couple of years, of course, but he still really doesn’t want to let the Warblers down. That would just feel like a bad start to his still-only-recently-acquired freedom.
Okay. He needs to coax Pavarotti to him, somehow. There’s an open packet of birdseed on his desk, so he takes it and shakes some out onto his palm.
“Here, Pavarotti,” he says gently, holding out his hand.
Pavarotti glances at the seed and then gives Kurt what feels like an are you serious? look, which is a little disconcerting, coming from a bird.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Kurt says. Talking to Pavarotti is unlikely to achieve much, but it’s so good to be in control of his own voice again that he’s been using it as much as possible. “I’m not going to cook you a steak.”
Almost a minute passes, during which it becomes more and more clear that the bird isn’t going to take the bait. Eventually, Kurt looks away, just to get away from Pavarotti’s unimpressed gaze, and his eyes fall on his bedclothes.
Maybe...?
Kurt begins untucking his sheet. He doesn’t want to hurt Pavarotti, but maybe, if he can just hold him still for long enough...
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Blaine says. Maybe look behind you first.
Kurt whips around, but Blaine is nowhere to be seen. “Blaine?” he asks. “Where are you?” After a moment, he adds, “How did you get in my room?”
Don’t worry about that now, Blaine says. No matter how hard Kurt listens, he can’t seem to work out what direction the voice is coming from. Just take a look at Pavarotti’s cage before you start throwing sheets over my head.
Kurt looks at Pavarotti’s cage. Pavarotti is there, drinking his water quite happily. Just to make sure there hasn’t been any kind of teleportation involved, which doesn’t actually sound that implausible after everything he’s experienced, he looks back at his bedpost, but the bird is still there, watching him. It looks exactly like Pavarotti, but it must be another canary. Maybe one of the other students put it in here to mess with his mind, as if he hadn’t already had enough of that to last him several millennia.
The canary isn’t taking its eyes off him at all. It’s making Kurt slightly uncomfortable.
Wait.
“Did you say your head?” he asks the apparently-invisible Blaine.
The canary, Kurt swears, winks at him, and then it hops off the bedpost onto the floor.
Just watch, Blaine’s voice says. It feels like it’s inside Kurt’s head, and although he knows he’s safe, although Blaine’s warm tones are nothing like the taunting of the Yeerk that was once wrapped around his brain, Kurt can’t suppress a shudder. I’m going to show you something really cool.
Fandom: Glee/Animorphs
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Wordcount: 4,300
Summary: Glee/Animorphs crossover AU, hopefully accessible to people unfamiliar with Animorphs. Being a gay teenager in love is difficult enough even when you don't have an evil alien controlling your every move.
Warnings: May be upsetting for people who have experience of being possessed by Yeerks or, more seriously, who are uncomfortable with reading about a complete loss of control over one's own actions.
Notes: Written in response to this anonymous prompt. Why is everything I write for this pairing an absurd AU?
Far underneath McKinley High, in a cavern accessible only via a secret switch in the back of Sue Sylvester’s office, Kurt Hummel rattles the bars of his cage and sings.
It’s easy enough to see why the Yeerk in Kurt’s head begged to be transferred to Dalton Academy: it’s an expensive private school. A lot of the students there are going to have wealthy, influential parents. Perfect hosts for the invasion.
On his first day at Dalton, the Yeerk walks Kurt to all his classes and he tries to pay attention; it’s not as if exams are really going to matter when he has an alien wrapped around his brain, controlling his every action, deceiving his family and friends, but trying to learn is at least slightly more interesting than doing nothing at all. The teachers here seem good, he notes regretfully. He could have enjoyed studying here, if he’d come of his own free will.
He misses free will.
When classes are over, Kurt expects the Yeerk to go straight to their room and spend the evening doing absolutely nothing, but instead it glances at his watch (its watch, really; it was already in his head when it made him buy it) and then sets off in a completely different direction. He doesn’t work out where it’s taking him until he’s standing in front of a panel of three boys.
“Hello,” the Yeerk says, putting Kurt’s hand on his hip. “I’d like to try out for the Dalton Academy Warblers.”
Oh, God, he should have known this was going to happen. The Warblers are a high-status group, and the higher Kurt’s social status the more influence the Yeerk controlling him will have within the school. The Yeerk knows its host has the voice for it, so of course it’s going to try out.
Kurt hates it. His singing voice is his; somehow, using it for its own ends feels worse than almost anything else the Yeerk has done.
The Yeerk laughs at him in his head and launches into ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.
“Hey, Kurt,” says a voice he doesn’t recognise, as the Yeerk is walking him away from his successful audition. “Hold up.”
The Yeerk turns around, and Kurt sees a dark-haired, good-looking boy, smiling warmly at him.
“I was there for your audition,” he explains. “At the back of the room; I don’t think you noticed me.”
Kurt hadn’t noticed him; under his own power, he would have checked to see who was listening to him, but the Yeerk hadn’t bothered to look around.
The boy holds out a hand. “I’m Blaine.”
Kurt has heard that name before, he realises. Blaine is the lead singer of the Warblers. He feels the Yeerk take notice of his recognition.
“You’re the lead singer,” the Yeerk says, accepting the handshake.
“I am so glad you already knew that, because I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m just some creepy guy listening in for no reason,” Blaine says. “You’re an amazing singer. I just wanted to let you know I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Kurt would smile at that, so the Yeerk makes him smile. “Likewise.”
Blaine is obviously a powerful figure within the school, so the Yeerk sets about trying to get close to him. It hangs back to talk to him after rehearsals; it goes with him to the theatre; it asks him for help looking after the canary they’ve inexplicably been saddled with. For the Yeerk, of course, it’s a meaningless charade, but Kurt actually finds himself a little less miserable than usual; he enjoys Blaine’s company, or at least the weird, filtered version of Blaine’s company he gets where he has conversations with him without actually doing the talking himself, and Blaine has similar tastes to him in movies and musicals, so on their outings Kurt is watching things that actually interest him. He’s being driven places he actually wants to go, even if the driver is evil and won’t let go of the wheel.
One day, the Yeerk approaches Blaine after a Warblers meeting. Blaine is lounging by the window, looking a little irritated. Kurt can feel the Yeerk sifting through his thoughts for something to open a conversation, and apparently it comes up with Kurt’s amused surprise at one of the songs under discussion for their next performance. “‘Gotta Go My Own Way’?”
“I know,” Blaine says, with a roll of his eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like High School Musical probably more than any self-respecting musician should, but I know they suggested it just to mess with me.”
“Why would it mess with you?” the Yeerk asks, tilting Kurt’s head.
He laughs a little, glancing out the window. “It’s stupid, really. My ex-boyfriend broke up with me by singing that song.”
Something stops in Kurt’s brain. Boyfriend?
“You’re gay?” the Yeerk asks. It’s probably having trouble finding anything else to say, when he’s gay? is suddenly the only thought in its host’s head.
“Oh, did I not tell you?” Blaine asks, looking up at him, and if Kurt had control of his own body he’d excuse himself at this point and run off to panic about the revelation that’s just hit him twice as hard as his surprise at Blaine’s sexuality. Oh, God. He’s in love with Blaine. He’s in love with him, and he’s going to have to watch himself ruin his life.
The Yeerk’s behaviour around Blaine is subtly altered after the sexuality revelation; Kurt can’t be sure, but it seems to him that it’s being a little more flirty, a little more given to seemingly-casual physical touches, and it horrifies him. He doesn’t know whether the Yeerk is doing this just because it’s what Kurt might do or because it thinks it might have more influence over Blaine if it seduces him. He really, really hopes it’s not the latter, although even thinking about it has probably given the Yeerk ideas.
He wants Blaine to realise what’s going on, somehow, impossibly. He wants Blaine to get far, far away from him and the parasite in his head. But, to his shame, he also doesn’t want Blaine to suspect a thing, because then Kurt will never see him again.
It all goes – well, ‘it all goes wrong’ isn’t the right phrase, and not only because everything is wrong already, but it all changes after Blaine asks the creature with Kurt’s face to duet with him on ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’. The Yeerk takes the opportunity to ramp Kurt’s flirtatiousness up as far as possible, and Kurt can only watch with an increasing sense of dread.
At the end of the song, they collapse onto the couch, next to each other. They’re laughing, or Blaine is laughing and the Yeerk is pretending to laugh, and then Blaine says, “Hold still a moment,” and he cups a hand around Kurt’s neck and leans in and – and it’s the perfect first kiss Kurt always dreamed of, but it’s not real, it’s not for him. He wants to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, drawing back with an awkward grin. “I just really wanted to do that.”
The Yeerk makes Kurt lean in to kiss him back, and it’s all too painful. Kurt tries to pretend he’s somewhere else.
They end up cuddling on the couch, and it’d almost be nice if Kurt didn’t know this was going to destroy Blaine. He tries to forget about that, to concentrate on the warmth of Blaine’s arms around him. He can’t.
“I have to go,” the Yeerk says eventually, stirring with feigned reluctance. “I’m seeing a movie.”
“Oh, which one?”
“Sorry,” the Yeerk says. “I’d love to invite you along, but I can’t. It’s kind of a family thing.” It kisses Blaine again, quickly, on the corner of his mouth, and grins. “Don’t forget to miss me.”
A tabby cat winds around Kurt’s ankles as he’s unlocking his car; the Yeerk ignores it. One problem with the move to Dalton for the thing in Kurt’s head is that the local Yeerk pool isn’t as conveniently located as it was at McKinley; it’s under the movie theatre, a short drive away. It means it’s tougher for the Yeerk to disappear unobtrusively every three days, soak up whatever it is that keeps these hellish alien brain-slugs alive. Part of Kurt hopes that Blaine will notice something weird is going on, follow him to the pool, find out what’s happening to him, but he knows it’s never going to happen; who follows someone because they’re going to the movies suspiciously often?
When the Yeerk has slithered into the pool and Kurt, briefly and blissfully in control of his own body, has been forced into one of the cages, he doesn’t sing for once. He sits with his back against the bars, and he closes his eyes, and he thinks.
As far as it can, the Yeerk says the things Kurt would say, does the things Kurt would do, mimicking him perfectly in his own body, because it can’t risk suspicion. It would give up Kurt’s time-consuming skincare regimen if it could, but his dad would know something was up in seconds. If Blaine is in love with the person he thought he was kissing, even though Kurt hasn’t really spoken a word to him, he’s in love with Kurt. Not the Yeerk. Him.
It’s not how he wanted any of it, but it’s something.
He and Blaine have been together for a week now, or at least Blaine has been together with the Yeerk in his head, although Kurt prefers not to think about it like that. They’re curled up together on Blaine’s bed, fully clothed; they haven’t actually progressed past the making-out stage yet, which is probably a good thing. Blaine has his arm around him, his fingers idly tracing the curve of Kurt’s spine through his shirt, and if Kurt tries he can almost make himself believe that he’s in control of his own body again; this is exactly where he would choose to be, after all.
“Do you know about the Sharing?” the Yeerk asks.
Oh, no. Not now. Kurt can’t handle this.
Blaine’s fingers go still on Kurt’s back. “No,” he says. “What’s that?”
The Yeerk gives a quick laugh with Kurt’s voice. “It’s a kind of club, I guess.”
Don’t do this, Kurt begs in his mind, entirely ineffectually.
“I mean, we’ve already got the Warblers together, but it can be a little stifling in that choir room. And I’d like to do more things with you.”
Blaine looks dubious. “The Sharing?”
“I know,” the Yeerk says. “It’s a terrible name. Just give it a try. Come along to one of our meetings. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Don’t fall for it, Blaine.
“Okay,” Blaine says, and that’s it, they’ll get him and they’ll put one of these things into his ear and they’ll both be screaming prisoners inside their own heads for the rest of their lives.
“But,” Blaine adds, leaning over to rummage in his bedside drawer, “I’d like you to try something for me first.”
He comes up with a pair of gleaming handcuffs, and Kurt is convinced that it’s only because of his instinctive mental recoil at the sight of them that the Yeerk makes him smile coquettishly and hold out his hands, making its victory that much more complete. It’s irrational for Kurt to dislike the idea so strongly – he’s equally trapped whether he’s wearing cuffs or not, after all – but it would be fair to say that his ongoing Yeerk ordeal has given him more than a few control issues. Handcuffs symbolise imprisonment. He doesn’t want to associate one of the few good things in his half-life with that.
Plus he’s terrified that this might actually develop into something sexual. He’s already lost his first kiss. He can’t cope with the idea of taking a back seat to his own first time with the perfect person.
Blaine gestures toward the radiator, and the Yeerk obediently slips off the bed, kneels on the hard wooden floor, stretches Kurt’s hands out behind him to be chained. It’s uncomfortable and humiliating and Kurt decides to deal with it by just shutting himself off, not thinking until this is over.
What is he doing? the Yeerk asks in Kurt’s mind after a moment, distracting him from his not-thinking. It feels like Blaine is tying his legs together with rope.
Suddenly, the Yeerk throws Kurt’s body forward. The chain of the handcuffs pulls tight around the radiator. It achieves nothing but a sharp pain in Kurt’s wrists.
“Oh, have you figured it out?” Blaine asks pleasantly, withdrawing a safe distance away. “You’re not going to escape.”
Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a sexual scenario. Blaine’s eyes have gone very hard.
“I can’t believe it was that easy,” Blaine says. “You actually let me tie you up? What kind of idiot are you?”
Well, Kurt wasn’t expecting this. He’s misjudged Blaine all along, and that wrenches his heart even if it means that the Blaine in his head, the Blaine he loves, isn’t in danger; he doesn’t exist. It looks like Kurt isn’t the only person here with a dark secret. He really can’t trust anyone, whether they’re Yeerk-possessed or not.
Maybe Blaine is going to kill him. That would be something, at least.
“I know what you are,” Blaine says, leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” the Yeerk demands.
“Three days,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s heart just about stops. It’s been a long time since his mental and physical reactions last matched up like that, but the Yeerk is obviously as shocked as he is. “I’m going to keep you here for three days, maybe four to be certain, and then you can go and it’ll be very awkward, if you’re actually Kurt, or you can lie on the floor and die like the parasitic alien slug you are.” His tone is inappropriately, deliberately matter-of-fact; Kurt can hear the tremor beneath it. His hands are clenched into fists. He looks furious.
Oh, God. Blaine knows. Someone actually knows what has happened to him, and they’re going to try to stop it. Keep the Yeerk away from the Yeerk pool for three days; it can’t feed; it dies. Kurt is half-convinced he’s dreaming. He’d pinch himself if he were in command of his own muscles, but there’s no real need; the Yeerk is causing him enough physical pain already, desperately trying to struggle out of its bonds.
Blaine, not taking his eyes off Kurt, takes his cellphone out of his pocket, dials a number and puts it to his ear. “Hi, Wes? We’ve got a problem.” He pauses, frowning. “Bigger than Regionals. Kurt’s a Controller.”
Wes knows about Yeerks as well. This is incredible. Did Kurt somehow get transferred to a school full of alien hunters? Best decision he ever had to watch something controlling his every action make.
“Yeah, I’ve got him in my room, but I’ll need you to watch him when I’m asleep. You should grab a few hours now. Let David know as well, okay? Thanks.” He hangs up and looks at Kurt – not at Kurt, at the Yeerk controlling him, because he knows, and his voice takes on a harsh tone that Kurt has never heard there before. “Oh, you are in so much trouble.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! What’s a Controller? Let me go!”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
“Let me go!” the Yeerk shrieks. Tears are pouring down Kurt’s face. “Let me go! Why are you doing this? I thought you loved me!”
Blaine kneels down and looks into Kurt’s eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder. The Yeerk strains Kurt’s arms painfully against the handcuffs. I’ll claw his eyes out, it hisses in Kurt’s mind. I’ll make you tear his throat out with your teeth.
“I know you must be in there, somewhere,” Blaine says quietly, and with a thrill Kurt realises that Blaine is speaking to him, actually to him, not to the creature wearing his face. “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”
Kurt has no idea why he’s apologising, because this is literally the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for him in his life.
The Yeerk refuses to drink when Blaine holds a paper cup of water to Kurt’s lips. Blaine rolls his eyes.
“He can survive without water longer than you can survive without Kandrona rays. All you’re doing is making your final hours uncomfortable for both of you.”
“What the hell are Kandrona rays?” the Yeerk demands. “There’s no ‘he’ and ‘you’; there’s just me. I’m Kurt Hummel, and you’re killing me because you are insane.”
“If that’s true,” Blaine says, “and, by the way, it isn’t, you’re the one killing yourself. All I’m doing is holding you here for a few days. Drink the water, and if it turns out there’s no alien in your head I’ll let you go. You’ll never have to see me again.”
The Yeerk scowls, but it drinks, much to Kurt’s relief.
Several hours pass. Blaine doesn’t read, doesn’t use his computer; he just sits there, watching Kurt intently. The Yeerk alternates between swearing at him furiously and pleading that he’s Kurt, that he doesn’t know why Blaine is doing this to him, but eventually it abandons the pretence.
“I was always here,” the Yeerk snarls through Kurt’s teeth. “You never met the real Kurt. You have no reason to care about him.”
“Of course I do,” Blaine says, after a moment. “He’s still a person. Nobody should be enslaved like this.” He looks stricken, though. It pains Kurt to see his expression, but he doesn’t have the choice to look away.
Blaine doesn’t speak much after that. He stays awake until about three in the morning, but eventually he calls Wes up and asks him to watch. Wes comes in with David, and they play Scrabble together while Kurt’s body howls and shrieks and screams obscenities at them. Kurt finds himself wondering how many times they’ve done this before.
Blaine is on guard when the Yeerk finally gives in. The first thing Kurt is aware of is his muscles relaxing, but he doesn’t give that much thought; as he’s not the one pulling the strings, he’s used to feeling his body do things without knowing exactly why.
And then comes the pain, the sensation of something slithering down the ear canal he knows from countless visits to the Yeerk pool, and it’s as agonising as always but it’s also the best thing he’s ever felt, and he realises – he can move again. The thing that’s been tormenting him and controlling him for so long falls to the floor beside him, and he’s free.
It hasn’t yet been three days since the last feeding, so maybe the Yeerk has some delusional ideas of making a break for freedom, but they are immediately and literally squashed by the heel of Blaine’s shoe.
Blaine makes a face. “Well, that’s disgusting.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says. It comes out too quiet, barely audible. His only real exercise of his vocal cords for a long time has been singing in the Yeerk pool cages; he’s not used to just speaking.
Blaine stamps on the Yeerk a few more times, making sure, and then he scoops it up with a plastic bag and throws it in the trash. He comes back and crouches down next to Kurt, pulls a tiny key out of his pocket, unlocks the handcuffs. Kurt rolls his shoulders, awkwardly, wincing, and then he kisses the backs of both his hands, just because he can. It probably looks ridiculous. He doesn’t care.
“I’m going to put my hand on your back,” Blaine says, after untying Kurt’s legs. “Is that okay with you?”
Kurt nods. Blaine puts a hand on his back, rubbing in slow, careful circles.
“Is there anything you need?” Blaine asks. “Food? Water?”
Kurt blinks, twice, and then he bursts into tears. Blaine slips down from his crouch to sit next to him and pulls Kurt carefully into his arms.
“Hey,” Blaine says, gently, “it’s okay. That thing is dead now. You never have to go through any of that again.”
“I thought I’d never – ” Kurt begins, but he chokes on the words and ends up sobbing into Blaine’s shoulder again. He must be ruining his shirt, but Blaine doesn’t seem to mind. Some part of Kurt is embarrassed about appearing so vulnerable in front of him, but he’s spent all the time he’s known him up to now being piloted by an alien parasite, so it seems a slightly silly moment to worry about a loss of control.
They stay like that for a while, until Kurt has managed to calm himself down and stop shaking. Eventually, he draws back, out of Blaine’s embrace, nice though it is.
There is a brief silence. Blaine catches Kurt’s eye and quickly looks away.
“I am so sorry, Kurt,” Blaine says, after a moment. “I didn’t realise until it mentioned the Sharing. If I’d known, I’d never have...” He gestures, vaguely, and suddenly Kurt catches on.
“No,” he says, quickly, “you don’t have to apologise. It was fine. It was nice. Well, no, it was horrible, but only because I knew the thing controlling me was using it to try to get an alien slug into your brain. The actual kissing part, that was good. I was okay with that.”
“Okay,” Blaine says, looking immensely relieved. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it again for a while, though. Until I’ve gotten to know you as yourself, you know.”
“That makes sense,” Kurt concedes, with some reluctance.
Blaine presses a quick kiss to his forehead, and then he stands up and holds out a hand. Kurt takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, to stand, under his own power and uncaged, for the first time in two years.
Kurt lies down on his bed, looking forward to an evening of reading. It’s been a few weeks, but he’s still struck by how amazingly nice it is just to be able to do things to pass the time, now. The Yeerk would just sit motionless and do nothing when it wasn’t actively trying to take over the world, which wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating for its host.
His plans all collapse when there’s a cheep from just behind his left ear and he twists around to see Pavarotti standing on his bedpost.
Shit. Pavarotti has escaped. As problems go, it’s nowhere near the hell Kurt’s been enduring for the past couple of years, of course, but he still really doesn’t want to let the Warblers down. That would just feel like a bad start to his still-only-recently-acquired freedom.
Okay. He needs to coax Pavarotti to him, somehow. There’s an open packet of birdseed on his desk, so he takes it and shakes some out onto his palm.
“Here, Pavarotti,” he says gently, holding out his hand.
Pavarotti glances at the seed and then gives Kurt what feels like an are you serious? look, which is a little disconcerting, coming from a bird.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Kurt says. Talking to Pavarotti is unlikely to achieve much, but it’s so good to be in control of his own voice again that he’s been using it as much as possible. “I’m not going to cook you a steak.”
Almost a minute passes, during which it becomes more and more clear that the bird isn’t going to take the bait. Eventually, Kurt looks away, just to get away from Pavarotti’s unimpressed gaze, and his eyes fall on his bedclothes.
Maybe...?
Kurt begins untucking his sheet. He doesn’t want to hurt Pavarotti, but maybe, if he can just hold him still for long enough...
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Blaine says. Maybe look behind you first.
Kurt whips around, but Blaine is nowhere to be seen. “Blaine?” he asks. “Where are you?” After a moment, he adds, “How did you get in my room?”
Don’t worry about that now, Blaine says. No matter how hard Kurt listens, he can’t seem to work out what direction the voice is coming from. Just take a look at Pavarotti’s cage before you start throwing sheets over my head.
Kurt looks at Pavarotti’s cage. Pavarotti is there, drinking his water quite happily. Just to make sure there hasn’t been any kind of teleportation involved, which doesn’t actually sound that implausible after everything he’s experienced, he looks back at his bedpost, but the bird is still there, watching him. It looks exactly like Pavarotti, but it must be another canary. Maybe one of the other students put it in here to mess with his mind, as if he hadn’t already had enough of that to last him several millennia.
The canary isn’t taking its eyes off him at all. It’s making Kurt slightly uncomfortable.
Wait.
“Did you say your head?” he asks the apparently-invisible Blaine.
The canary, Kurt swears, winks at him, and then it hops off the bedpost onto the floor.
Just watch, Blaine’s voice says. It feels like it’s inside Kurt’s head, and although he knows he’s safe, although Blaine’s warm tones are nothing like the taunting of the Yeerk that was once wrapped around his brain, Kurt can’t suppress a shudder. I’m going to show you something really cool.
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