Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/749582.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel, Rachel_Berry/Jesse_St._James, Santana_Lopez/
      Brittany_S._Pierce, Sam_Evans/Mercedes_Jones, Mike_Chang/Tina_Cohen-
      Chang, Carole_Hudson-Hummel/Burt_Hummel, Hiram_Berry/Leroy_Berry, Carl
      Howell/Emma_Pillsbury
  Character:
      Kurt_Hummel, Blaine_Anderson, Burt_Hummel, Carole_Hudson-Hummel, Blaine's
      Father_(Glee), Blaine's_Mother_(Glee), Santana_Lopez, Brittany_S._Pierce,
      Rachel_Berry, Hiram_Berry, Leroy_Berry, Sam_Evans, Mercedes_Jones, Quinn
      Fabray, Beth_Corcoran, Noah_Puckerman, Shelby_Corcoran, Finn_Hudson,
      Isabelle_Wright, Carl_Howell, Emma_Pillsbury, Ryder_Lynn, Adam_Crawford
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Boy_Who_Wouldn't_Grow_Up_Trilogy
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-05 Completed: 2013-04-13 Chapters: 8/8 Words: 22463
****** The Boy With The Sapphire Eyes ******
by inkystars
Summary
     Murder mystery novelist Blaine Anderson and his fiance, junior
     fashion designer Kurt Hummel race from the forests of Germany to the
     streets of Paris to find a vicious fairytale serial killer who has a
     penchant for dressing up their victims in outfits that Kurt has
     designed.
***** Chapter 1 *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_1:
 Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a writer and a tailor who
loved each other very very much. 
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Kurt slammed the laptop down and turned to Blaine, hand flying to nervously
tuck one of his beaded locks back behind his ear. “Nothing!” he said, far too
quickly. “Just daydreaming... You know, plotting weekend outfits.”
Blaine stared at him skeptically. “But you were writing.”
“I can plot weekend outfits with writing,” Kurt sniffed, not-that-
surreptitiously sliding the laptop under the couch cushion. 
“Right,” Blaine said evenly, knowing that he’d wriggle it out of Kurt later.
“Anyways, we’re going to leave in about thirty minutes, so you need to finish
getting dressed.”
Kurt groaned and he stood, cracking the kinks out of his spine. “Remind me why
we agreed to do this again?”
Blaine shot him a glance. “Each is a long-time friend of one of ours and we
sort of owe it to them?”
“Or is this just guilt over that near-year you were married to her?” Kurt
challenged with an arched brow.
“Get dressed,” Blaine rolled his eyes, whacking Kurt on the shoulder.
“No,” Kurt mumbled petulantly, catapulting himself facedown into the couch and
burrowing there.
Blaine grinned, creeping over him and rucking up the back of his shirt to kiss
softly at the roses on his left side. “Please?”
“Hmmm. No.”
Blaine raked his teeth against the yellow and red skin before biting down over
Kurt’s ribs. “Please?” He dragged out the word.
“Mmfflllmmm,” Kurt groaned against the upholstery before turning his head to
look down at Blaine, a mixture of annoyance and arousal flushing his face.
“That’s cheating.”
“All’s fair in love and war my darling,” Blaine grinned. 
Kurt flipped onto his back, dragging Blaine over him. “You know, we don’t have
to go. We could just stay here...”
“Tempting...” Blaine leaned down for a quick peck. “But we promised, remember?”
“I hate promises,” Kurt glared as he rolled off the couch.
“Hopefully not all of them,” Blaine smiled as he kissed Kurt’s ring finger.
Kurt smiled softly back. “No. Not all of them.”
***
“What in the everliving fuck?” Kurt blurted out.
Blaine sent him a look. “Kurt.”
Kurt stared. “White, pink, and gold? They chose white, pink and goldfor their
theme colors?”
“I mean...” Blaine glanced around with a grimace. “It’s not thatbad--” A hand
cut him off from speech and he suppressed an amused chuckle.
Kurt turned to him, eyes flashing. “They’re getting married in Paris. In
springtime. With the Eiffel Tower in the background. The only way this could
get anymore cliche is--”
An accordion player in a beret and a black and white striped shirt started
playing La Vie En Rose.
Kurt’s eye twitched. “That’s it, we’re leaving.”
“Come on, come on,” Blaine grabbed his arm and swung him around as they walked
onto the pastoral-looking grass for the ceremony. Kurt tensed like an angry cat
and Blaine could practically see his ears flatten against his hair in
annoyance. 
They sat in the second row and Kurt bristled, adjusting his red-orange-gold
mango-looking pants to look unwrinkled as he perched, folding his hands neatly.
“Remind me why we couldn’t sit in the back with Mercedes and Sam again?”
“Because we’re close friends of the lovely couple,” Blaine replied easily. “And
honestly, I think that Rachel wanted you to keep an eye on Finn or something.”
“He’s a stepbrother,” Kurt groaned. “Rachel’s known him longer than I have.”
“Blaine?”
The two leaned away from their whispers as Blaine’s face split in surprise at
seeing the man who was sitting in the row in front of them. “Hiram! It’s...it’s
good to see you. It’s been too long.”
“That’s right,” Hiram smiled. “The last time was at your mother’s garden party
on the cape! And before that was--oh that’s right! When I walked my baby girl
down the aisle and gave her to you, then you swore to cherish her as long as
you both shall live.”
The awkward in the air was practically tangible.
“Well,” Blaine coughed. “Yes. Rachel and I...we weren’t meant to be.”
Hiram’s eyes flickered to Kurt. “Clearly.”
Kurt opened his mouth, but Blaine quickly cut across him. “So Leroy is walking
Rachel?”
“Yes, since I got to do it last time. Granted, we didn’t know then that’d there
beanother time...”
Blaine sighed. “Look, Hiram--”
“I hold no grudge, Blaine,” Hiram said easily, holding up a hand. “And I’m glad
that Rachel finally found a prince to marry.” With that, he turned back against
his chair.
Blaine’s hand landed heavily on Kurt’s shoulder as he leaned to breathe over
his ear. “Okay, maybe skipping this would have been beneficial.”
***
It was a beautiful, if ostentatious ceremony. 
Kurt’s eyebrow twitched every couple of minutes as he observed a champagne
cabbage rose and cherry blossom flower arrangement, or the thousand live doves
that were released, or the fact that Rachel and Jesse sangtheir vows to each
other separately before melding their voices together in a powerhouse ten-
minute duet to symbolize their union. 
Kurt wanted to stay peeved, but really, the expression on Jesse’s face made it
impossible. He was utterly ecstatic as he gazed down at Rachel and belted his
heart out. And, after all that each of them had been through, they deserved
some modicum of happiness in the world.
It wasn’t until Blaine offered him a tissue that he even realized that he was
crying.
“Thank you,” Kurt whispered, dabbing his eyes. 
“What are you thinking about?” Blaine murmured, wrapping his arms around him.
“Just...” Kurt sniffed slightly. “This is only the second wedding I’ve been to,
and it’s gaudy and cliche and soRachel and Jesse but...it’s just
so...overwhelmingly happy and about love and...” He blew his nose a tad loudly.
“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d get so emotional.”
Blaine opened his mouth to ask about the other wedding Kurt had went to and why
it hadn’t impacted him so, when it hit him and he tightened his grip around
Kurt’s shoulders, folding him in and resting his head atop Kurt’s. “Well...if
it makes you feel any better, when Rachel and I got married she sang a Barbra
Streisand medley and demanded that my vows at least be fifteen minutes long
because “You’re a writer, Blaine!”. We also had albino peacocks.”
Kurt clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles. 
Finally they were proclaimed husband and wife and even though they tearfully
sang for one more minute about how they were meant to be, Kurt couldn’t find it
within him to scoff, because he knew at that moment that they really truly
were. 
He started sobbing slightly hysterically as they kissed, and he hated that he
checked Rachel’s face for any signs of discomfort or fear because he knew that
they were in love and he knew that Jesse adored her and would never hurt her,
but it was a knee-jerk reaction and the clench on his heart eased up as he saw
her blissful face pull back.
Blaine’s fingers laced through his and Kurt squeezed them tightly. 
The happy couple ran down the aisle and Kurt threw some of the white and gold
rice at them as they passed, a reluctant smile on his face.
He missed the woman behind him who looked at her phone and gasped.
***
The reception was just as opulent as the ceremony, if not more so, and about
ten times more awkward.
Mainly due to that Kurt and Blaine were seated next to the Fathers Berry.
Leroy, at least, made an attempt at civility. 
“You must be Kurt,” he greeted him warmly with a firm handshake. “It’s
wonderful to meet you. Rachel’s told me all about you.”
“You too,” Kurt replied, stomach full of butterflies. “And not everything, I
hope.”
“No, she told us everything,” Hiram said, staring blatantly over his china.
Kurt nodded, taking a hasty gulp of his pink champagne, trying to avoid the
white rose petals in it as he gazed longingly over to the table where Sam,
Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, and all the McKinley kids were sitting.
The maid of honor tapped her glass and he breathed a sigh of relief at the
distraction. 
“Well, it could have been worse,” Blaine muttered in his ear.
“Yeah,” Kurt snorted. “You could’ve accepted Rachel’s offer to be her ‘bridal-
attendant-of-honor’.”
A couple gasped behind them as they looked at their phones, but neither Kurt
nor Blaine thought anything of it.
The speeches all went well--if a bit tipsy--and Leroy and Hiram traded off
Rachel with expert practiced ease during the father-daughter dance and the
music was--admittedly--wonderful and though it was a bit too pink for Kurt’s
taste, he found that enjoyment had snuck up on him at some point during the
night. 
He and Blaine spun around the dance floor, giggling and laughing, switching off
with Sam and Mercedes at one point (Kurt would deny the jump up onto Sam’s
waist as they outlandishly freak-danced in their corner, joined by Mike and
Brittany) and watching as they all grew steadily drunker throughout the night
(Rachel ended up in Artie Abrahm’s lap, going on and on about how he was the
best director in the world and how she couldn’t wait to do Into The Woods with
him in the summer). 
Kurt broke away from Blaine with an embarrassingly sloppy kiss that Puck
catcalled at before stumbling off to the bathroom. Upon his return, he went
over to the bar for a cup of water to cool off with before returning to the
fray, and that was where he found Finn.
“Finn.” He hopped up onto the stool next to him, nudging at his arm. “Finn Finn
Finn. What’s wrong?”
Finn shot Kurt a look before turning and ordering another tequila shot, nursing
his beer in the meantime. 
“C’mon Finn, it’s a wedding,” Kurt nudged more, his tongue feeling pleasantly
heavy. “Weddings are fun and about fun times. Come have fun times. Let’s
dance.”
“Go away, Kurt,” Finn said.
“No,” Kurt shook his head, pulling on Finn’s arm. “Let’s dance--”
“Go away!” Finn snapped, shoving him back.
Kurt stumbled into a barstool, shocked, before the anger took over. “What is
your problem?” he snapped.
“Maybe I don’t want to dance with you, because the love of my life is getting
married!” Finn rounded on him.
“Then why did you even come?” Kurt hissed. “You would’ve done Rachel a bigger
favor if you’d steered clear of her wedding.”
“Because she asked me to.”
“Then if you’re going to come, don’t drink away your sorrows at the bar, be
happy for her that she’s happy!”
“Well maybe I can’t be happy for her, okay?” Finn snapped. “Maybe I can’t be
happy because the person she’s happy with isn’t me!”
Kurt stared at him for a pause. “Grow up.”
“What?”
“Grow the hell up, Finn Hudson. If you’re going to be here, then be happy for
Rachel and stop acting like a goddamn child.”
“Oh, of course you love this, because now she’s married to someone who isn’t
your boyfriend,” Finn yelled. “Like you even care about marriage, you were
fucking Blaine while bothof you were married!”
Kurt felt his stomach drop out between his feet and his vision start to go
spotty and his breath starting to hyperventilate and Chapel of Love started
pounding in his ears as a ringing silence throughout the reception hall
followed. 
“And it’s not like she should even be wearing white, I mean she fucked half of
Manhattan when she was married to Blaine--”
Finn hit the ground, unconscious, and it wasn’t until Kurt was running from the
hall, hand throbbing, that he realized that he’d been the one to do it. But
that didn’t even matter, because the song kept pounding through his head. 
 Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married...
“No,” Kurt whispered, turning round and round, lost as he tried to find some
escape from the singing.
 Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married...
“No please stop, I’m not!” he begged as he looked around wildly.
 Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married...
“Stop!”
 Going to the chapel of love...
***
Ten minutes later, Hiram and Leroy found Kurt in the back room where all the
flower arrangements were kept, hiding under a table covered in a large droopy
pile of champagne roses that were hanging over the edge to obscure his
location. He had his arms wrapped around his legs and he looked slightly dead
to the world. 
“Kurt?” Leroy asked gently, tapping him on the back of his hand. 
Kurt blinked, looking at them suddenly before scooting carefully from under the
table, brushing himself off. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I...I already
know you two don’t like me, and I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your
daughter’s wedding.”
“Finn caused the scene, honey,” Leroy soothed, rubbing his back.
“And you stood up for our baby girl’s honor,” Hiram nodded, holding out a hand.
Kurt cautiously took it and was surprised to find himself enveloped in a hug.
“Rachel didn’t tell us everything, Kurt,” Hiram continued.
“But she told us enough,” Leroy said, still soothingly rubbing Kurt’s back.
“And we already know how rough it can be to be a gay youth and it looks like
you were put through the ringer.”
“And we’re glad that you were able to find happiness,” Hiram nodded. “Though
how you managed that with Blaine, we have absolutely no idea.”
A watery laugh strangled from Kurt’s lips as he hugged Hiram back tightly for a
moment before letting go. “He’s not all that bad. Just a bit grumpy when he
writes for a long time and doesn’t have tea.”
“I believe the word you’re really looking for is ‘pissy’,” Hiram rolled his
eyes.
Kurt smiled, scratching at his neck where his chain was chaffing. “It’s
endearing.”
Leroy fingered around the chain and pulled on it, the gold ring on the end of
it popping out of Kurt’s shirt. “Is this...?”
Kurt caught the ring, holding it close with wide eyes.
Leroy and Hiram stared. “You’re engaged?” Leroy asked, shocked.
“I--yes?” Kurt tried. “But no one knows! Like...literally no one. We haven’t
even told my dad yet.”
“Congratulations,” Leroy smiled. “When did he propose?” 
“Last October,” Kurt grinned bashfully. “We were in Venice.”
“Five months ago?” Hiram frowned. “And you still haven’t told anyone?”
“Hiram,” Leroy admonished, whacking him lightly on the shoulder. “That’s their
own business.” 
“Just...after everything that happened and all the media attention, we thought
that a private engagement was best,” Kurt said, tucking his ring back under his
shirt. “Once we set a date, we’ll tell all our friends and family.”
“There you are!”
Kurt looked up, a smile threatening to crack his face when Blaine appeared in
the doorway, rushing over to wrap him up in a bone-crushing embrace. The scent
of earl grey tea, book paper, and laundry detergent filled his nostrils and all
of his shakes from earlier dissipated. 
“Are you okay?” Blaine asked, pulling back to examine Kurt’s right hand. “Finn
was escorted from the premises.”
“I’m fine,” Kurt replied easily, giving Blaine a peck on the lips. “Honestly,
it’s okay. I just want to get back to the reception.”
Blaine nodded, taking his hand before looking back at Hiram and Leroy.
“Oh go on, you two,” Leroy smiled. “We’ll be out in a little bit.”
Kurt and Blaine smiled before exiting.
“I like them,” Leroy smiled. 
“I noticed,” Hiram stated. “And Kurt’s sweet, I will give him that. But those
two are in for a world of trouble, especially if they haven’t told Blaine’s
mother about the engagement.”
Leroy gave a shudder of horror that was half-mocking, half-genuine. “That’s
true...” He looked down at his phone. “What...oh my god.”
***
Upon walking back into the reception hall, Blaine was hit smack in the face by
the bouquet that Rachel had thrown a bit too strongly, and Kurt found a garter
in his hair shortly after, due to Jesse’s improbable aiming skills. 
“I don’t like our friends,” Blaine said evenly.
“Me either,” Kurt replied.
And then Kurt found himself covered with a very pink-faced Rachel who was
attempting to smother him with her dress or thank him or something, and it was
quite confusing because she kept talking so fast.
“And I don’t mind the drama--”
“Go figure.”
“--here today because it just proves how true Jesse and mine’s union is,” she
sighed happily into his neck. “I mean, I knew we were fated from the moment we
met--”
Blaine opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head, deciding it
wasn’t worth it.
“--and our voices just clicked and connected so well and I knew we’d take
Broadway together--”
Kurt checked his phone out of sheer boredom. 
“--plus we have the same initials as Romeo and Juliet, the greatest couple of
all time--”
“They died,” Blaine said flatly.
“--and I knew he’d make me feel like a princess for the rest of my life, like
Belle or Cinderella or Snow White--”
“Hopefully not Snow White,” Kurt said quietly, staring down at his phone.
Rachel hiccuped, peering down at it. “Why not...” Even through her drunken
haze, she was able to read the article and grew very quiet. 
Blaine frowned before leaning over Kurt’s shoulder, eyes widening.
It was an article, translated from German, about a young girl found in the
middle of a forest. She was wearing a richly brocaded dress in primary colors,
a painful-looking cinch around her waist, a comb tangling her otherwise glossy
black hair, and a bitten apple next to her outstretched hand. She laid dead on
the forest floor, pale white skin like snow, and stained red lips. 
“Kurt...” Blaine said quietly. “That’s--”
“My dress,” Kurt whispered. “I designed that dress.” 
***** Chapter 2 *****
 

                    (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
 Chapter_2:
“I swear to god,” Kurt snapped as he whipped off his wig when they entered the
hotel room. “One of these days, there’s going to be a seriously fucked up
serial killing, and neither one of us will be involved.”
He untied his sundress and shook it out. The sleeves drooped down to his
shoulders, the ends were swooped up, and a complicated knot retied it back into
place to create a draped shawl shirt...thing.
Blaine stared, before blinking himself out of it. Kurt’s female-to-male/male-
to-female clothing never ceased to amaze him. “Well at least this one doesn’t
have any ghosts of Christmas past.”
Kurt shot him a look. “I swear to god if you jinx this...”
Blaine smiled, making a mental note to jot down an idea for a murder mystery
around A Christmas Carol later. “Come on, darling.” He wrapped his arms around
Kurt from behind, halting his search for a pair of pants, before tipping them
both back onto the bed. “We’re in Germany for the first time together. Can’t we
savor it for a bit?”
Kurt’s lips turned in a semblance of a smile as he rolled onto his back,
stretching his bare legs into the air. He unhooked the chain of his necklace
and slide the ring off, placing it on his finger instead. He always wore it on
hand when they were alone together. “It would be nicer if our Paris trip hadn’t
been cut short. With opening night so close...”
“We’ll be back in time,” Blaine reassured him, tracing an idle finger down
Kurt’s bare thigh. “Don’t worry--we won’t miss your debut in the fashion
world.”
Kurt had applied to Parsons in the fall and had been rejected. It had been
disappointing and had caused a two week ice cream binge, but had also led to
his unexpected employment. Artie had been collaborating with the French
director/choreographer Gavroche Pattinson on a revival of Into The Woods and
they’d needed a costume designer. Badly. 
Kurt had submitted his portfolio and had been hired. The production was to be
premiered in Paris in another week, under Gavroche’s direction, before moving
to Broadway under Artie. 
After designing a line of clothing entirely inspired by The Wizard of Oz--
 “You know what they say: If something horrifically scars you, turn it into
fashion.”
 “Kurt, literally no one says that.”
--Kurt had produced an entire set of dresses inspired by fairytales in order to
convince both Artie and Gavroche of his capabilities. 
One of them had been an elaborately rich blue, yellow, and red brocade dress
based off of the tale of Snow White.
The dress that young Brigite Schneeweiss was found dead in. 
“You can’t tell me that you’re not at least a little bit curious about what’s
going on here,” Blaine frowned.
“No, I am,” Kurt tilted his head over. “I was just looking forward to spending
time with Mercedes and Tina and Quinn and everyone else because I hadn’t seen
them in a while.”
Blaine smiled at his fiance before pulling him into his arms. It had been
Kurt’s idea to bring up all his old Seattle friends to see his debut,
considering most of them had never left the country. “They’ll be fine. Most of
them are adults now. And besides, Sam, Brittany, and Santana are there to
supervise and Emma and Carl are coming up in a few days to...”
“I know, I know,” Kurt mumbled quietly. “It’s just...”
“Yeah?”
“I...why did they have to use my dress? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Blaine soothed, rubbing his shoulder lightly. “It was
probably just a weird coincidence.” 
“Blaine, when is anything ever a coincidence when it comes to me?” Kurt shot
back, rolling his eyes.
“Okay,” Blaine turned onto his back, pulling Kurt atop him. “Say that this
serial killer is coming for you specifically and is carrying a grudge about
something, just like you fear. Now I want you to think: who is actually still
alive that could pull this off?”
Kurt bit his lip, considering. “Well...when you put it that way...”
“Exactly,” Blaine said, wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt’s waist. “I’m
pretty sure we’ve used up your quotient of psychopaths who want to kill you,
and most of them have been laid to grass.”
“Stop being logical,” Kurt frowned, but it quickly turned into a smile. “You’re
right, I guess.” He laid down on Blaine’s chest with a huff.
There was a long silence.
“Hey Blaine?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have any enemies, do you?”
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
Kurt propped his chin up on Blaine’s chest. “Well...as long as we’re looking at
this from a murder mystery novel standpoint--”
“When do we not look at things from a murder mystery novel standpoint?”
“--wouldn’t that be the other conclusion? You know, hurt one of the things that
you love in order to get to you?”
Blaine tilted his head forward to look into Kurt’s large glassy blue eyes.
“Hurt one of the things I love...”
“Yeah,” Kurt nodded quietly.
“Well that wouldn’t work with you then,” Blaine mused. “Because you’re not one
of the things I love.” He waited for Kurt to blink in shock before continuing.
“You’re the thing I love the most.” He pressed a kiss to the ring on his
finger.
Kurt rolled his eyes before leaning forward for a brief kiss, then settling
back down. The silence resumed.
“Blaine?”
“Yes?”
“You never answered my question.”
“...no. I don’t have any enemies.”
***
“Kurt.”
Kurt yawned, nose wrinkling at whoever was poking him awake. “What?”
“There’s been another killing.”
***
Emma Streichholzschachtel was found in a deep freezer in Freiburg.
She was frozen completely solid, the only thing on her person was the simple
brown dress which Kurt had designed, and an empty box of matches.
Charred spent matches littered the freezer around her.
***
“Back to the storyboard.”
Kurt pulled his hair into two pigtails, nodding as he twisted his right ankle
to crack it, fingers splaying out over his bergamot orange blossom tattoo that
he’d recently gotten there. “I have dearly missed it.”
“So.” Blaine drew a large blob. “This is Germany.”
“Clearly.”
“Don’t knock my drawing capabilities. We all can’t be fashion designers.
Anyways. So down here, we have the Black Forest, or Schwarzwald as they call it
here. Germany’s most famous forest.”
“Yes,” Kurt nodded, crossing his legs.
“Snow White dies.” Blaine drew a stick figure with a wobbly circle.
“What’s that?”
“Snow White.”
“No, the circle.”
“It’s an apple.”
“I thought it was a half-melted frisbee.”
“Apple.”
“If you say so, honey.”
Blaine shot Kurt a look. “Anyways. She dies in your dress. We freak out, ditch
the wedding and Paris, and come here to investigate even though we can’t really
investigate because we have no police contacts out here and also our only link
is that they’re inexplicably wearing your dresses.”
“Right,” Kurt nodded.
“So then this morning. Matchbox girl dies.” Draws another stick figure. “In
your dress.” With a dress. “In a freezer.” Draws a box.
“We seriously need to work on your drawing skills.”
Blaine leaned against the board. “Snow White and Matchbox Girl.”
“Both girls from fables,” Kurt leaned forward.
“So, we’re dealing with a fairytale killer, are we?” Blaine arched an eyebrow.
“You could say that’s...” he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket,
sliding them on. “...Grimm.”
Kurt stared at him. “Where the hell did you even get those?”
“Sam.”
“Of course.” Kurt rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Fairytale
murderer...why do they always have to have a theme?”
“Beats me,” Blaine sighed, lying next to Kurt. “My question is...why do they
always kill girls?” 
Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “You know, there’s a high chance that we won’t find
the culprit.”
“But all the same--it’s good research,” Blaine shrugged. “I told Sam I’d do
some on this trip.”
“You always tell Sam that,” Kurt giggled, twisting his wrists to crack them.
“You always get distracted though.”
“Well I have the best distraction,” Blaine mumbled as he looped an arm around
Kurt’s chest and pulled him in for a kiss. 
“Blaine,” Kurt giggled, wrinkling his nose. “We’re supposed to be working.”
Blaine unbuttoned his shirt with a smirk. “You were saying?”
“That’s your compelling argument?” Kurt snorted. “Not even a speech? I thought
you were a writer.”
“Or maybe I just know my fiance too well,” Blaine grinned, stroking his chest
idly.
“You’re crazy,” Kurt said flatly.
“Is that so?” Blaine raised an eyebrow. 
They stared at each other before Kurt cracked, attacking his lips wildly and
pawing at his chest. “A crazy hot sex god,” he panted, pulling at Blaine’s
shirt until it came off. 
“Every single time,” Blaine grinned, sitting them both up to divest them both
of clothing.
It was a habit that they sorely needed to break. Neither could really keep
their hands off each other and they had a tally going for whoever would crack
first.
(Usually it was Blaine, but he claimed that it was a necessity to his work to
derive inspiration from his muse.)
(Said inspiration could take up hours.)
Kurt rolled them over and sat up, stretching his back as he rocked back and
forth, a delighted smile blooming across his lips as his spine cracked. He
giggled.
Blaine’s hips stilled. “Laughter. Yes. That definitely makes me feel ‘crazy hot
sex god’ as you so eloquently put it earlier.”
“Oh stop being such a baby,” Kurt chided with a grin, flicking Blaine’s nose.
“I’m thirty-two!” Blaine protested, making a snappy biting motion at Kurt’s
finger. 
“Ah, but age is no guarantee of maturity,” Kurt smirked, rolling his hips back.
“And the inverse is the same with youth. Remember when we first met in
Seattle?”
“Yes darling,” Blaine said dryly, hands going to Kurt’s thighs. “You were
definitely the height of maturity then at sixteen, when you slammed your wet
bag down, looking like a wet cat and effectively ruining my laptop. And you
used the term ‘crazy hot sex god’ five minutes ago, yes, I see the light, Kurt
Hummel: Pinnacle of Maturity—”
“Oh shut up, or I won’t let you use the honey on me later.”
“Wow, that is something I honestly could’ve gone my entire life without
hearing.”
Kurt feel off of Blaine in his scramble to get covered as the familiar voice
spoke suddenly and loudly from the doorway.
“Jesse!” Kurt snapped, face red as he clutched the duvet to his chest. Blaine’s
head fell back against the pillow with a resigned thunk. “What are you doing
here?”
Jesse stood in the doorframe, looking slightly amused and vaguely nauseous.
“When I planned on missing my honeymoon, I didn’t realize I’d be walking in on
another one.”
Kurt pressed his left hand into the duvet, though he was convinced that Jesse
hadn’t seen the ring. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”
“Oh, Rachel sent me to be your supervisor,” he shrugged. 
“We don’t need a supervisor,” Blaine said indignantly. “We’re two adults.”
“Not you,” Jesse shook his head. He pointed at Kurt. “You.”
“What are you talking about?” Kurt frowned. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, and we want to keep it that way,” Jesse nodded, plopping down on their
bed without any invitation. “Whenever you and Blaine investigate a serial
killing, you end up with the killer and usually hurt in some way.”
Blaine blinked. “You know...he’s kind of right.”
“So Rachel and I talked it over with everyone else, and we all decided that I’m
sticking around to make sure that you don’t run off to find the killer and/or
sacrifice yourself for Blaine, and that Blaine doesn’t do something stupid like
not call the police when that’s really what he should always do initially and
honestly, how do you both get it into your heads every time that you can stop
psychotic serial killers who’ve murdered multiple people on your own and often
unarmed?”
Kurt and Blaine sat, naked, staring down at their laps and considering their
life choices.
“Exactly,” Jesse smirked. “Now I’m going to go check in. I suggest you two
finish up or get dressed or make baking soda volcanoes--whatever the hell it is
that you two do together when the rest of us aren’t around.” He left the room,
shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Well that was awkward,” Blaine said, breaking the silence. “And slightly
enlightening.”
“True,” Kurt nodded. “We should probably do what he said.”
“Let him help?” Blaine raised an eyebrow.
Kurt snorted. “Oh, hell no. I meant more along the lines of finishing up.”
Blaine shrugged. “Who knows, he could help. And we could use a fresh opinion.”
“Yeah, but it’s Jesse,” Kurt sighed. “I can’t believe Rachel sent him to look
after me. I’m not five.”
“Oh come on, Rachel and Jesse aren’t that bad—”
“They tried out for the Fifty Shades of Grey movie together.”
“Granted. But they’re well-meaning.”
Kurt grumbled petulantly. 
Blaine smiled adoringly, tugging him back up onto the bed. “Now what was that
you said about finishing up?”
***
A few hours later, Kurt was walking through the streets of Pforzheim in search
of a bakery to bring back brunch for Blaine and Jesse, wallet in pocket and
English-to-German language book in hand. 
He found a sweet little bakery tucked in an alleyway and went in, smiling at
the overabundance of cuckoo clocks before ordering a mini mountain of streusel
and coffee. 
On his way back to the hotel, the hairs on the back of his neck began to
prickle. He turned, looking behind him, but there was no one.
He continued down the street but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being
followed.
“You’re being silly,” he murmured quietly to himself. “There’s no one. You’re
just paranoid, Kurt. You’ve been through quite a lot for someone your age and
now you’re just overly cautious. You’re alright. You’re fine.”
There was the distinct sound of a foot coming down on the cobblestones behind
him and he wheeled around. 
About twenty feet back was a man, maybe early to mid thirties. Blonde. Staring
at him.
Kurt gulped and turned back towards the hotel, walking and listening closely.
About fifty feet away, he turned back.
The man was gone. 
Kurt’s breathing came out fast as he clutched his purchases to his chest and
raced back to the hotel.
***** Chapter 3 *****
 
 
 
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_3:
Upon returning to the hotel, Kurt handed out breakfast and didn’t tell Blaine
or Jesse about his occurrence out in the streets of Pforzheim. He kept it to
himself as they prattled on about something or other and he chewed his streusel
thoughtfully.
His first knee-jerk reaction was to name the man the killer and be done with
everything, because he was Kurt’s one and only current suspect.
But according to his experience with serial killers, the ones he attracted
usually tended to know him from somewhere, or have a connection to him. They’d
at least talked to him before.
And he hadn’t recognized the strange man who’d been clearly following him,
which threw him for a loop. 
He glanced over at Blaine and Jesse, considering telling them before deciding
that it was best to leave them out, in case they got hurt.
***
“So I came up with a German codename,” Blaine said with a grin, kicking off his
shoes as he plopped next to Kurt on the bed with a grin.
Kurt looked over at him from his sketchbook. “Oh?”
“Just in case we need to go undercover for something,” Blaine shrugged. “I
thought it might come in handy.”
“What is it?” Kurt sat up, flipping his book shut.
“Erik Schreiber,” Blaine grinned. “Schreiber means writer, so it has a whole
double meaning thing.”
“Ooh, this is exciting!” Kurt said, bouncing on the bed. “Now let’s think of a
German name for me!”
Blaine stared at him.
Kurt stared back. “What?”
Blaine blinked. “You’re fucking Kurt Hummel.”
“I thought you were fucking Kurt Hummel.”
“Where do you even come from?” Kurt asked incredulously as Jesse sprawled out
on the bed.
“No, I make sweet sweet love to Kurt Hummel,” Blaine corrected.
“Whatever,” Jesse yawned. “Anyways, we have bigger problems. We need to get
back to France now.”
“But we were going to head back in two days for the premiere,” Kurt frowned.
“What’s the rush?”
Jesse pulled out the local paper. “A young girl was found on the borders of
Germany and France, murdered. She was wearing one of your dresses and
surrounded by candy.”
Kurt took the paper quietly, looking at the small girl. “Let me guess...her
name is--”
“Gretl,” Blaine confirmed as he leaned over to look.
“The killer’s moving,” Jesse said as he reached over to grab the map of Germany
he’d purchased  after taking one look at Blaine’s storyboard dry erase market
version. “Started up in this region of Schwarzwald, moved down to Freiburg, and
now on the border.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “The killer’s heading to
France.”
“So you think--” Blaine frowned.
“I don’t know if it’ll head to Paris, but it would seem obvious, especially if
the killer was hitting up the fairytale triad.”
“What’s the fairytale triad?” Kurt questioned.
“The three big fairytale authors and compilers,” Blaine filled him in. “Grimm
of Germany, Perrault of France, and Andersen of Denmark.”
“Andersen?” Kurt blinked.
“Hans Christian Andersen,” Blaine elaborated. “You’re right, Jesse. We need to
regroup, we’re too exposed here.”
“Finally, some sense,” Jesse groaned, turning to pack up. “I already booked us
flights to Paris.”
“You didn’t even wait to see if we’d agree?” Kurt asked amusedly. 
“If you hadn’t, I would’ve drugged you and taken you back anyways,” Jesse
grumbled. “It is way too easy for you both to get in trouble when you’re alone.
From now on, you’re both sticking with me.”
***
An hour later, Kurt was walking alone to retrieve snacks for the trip to the
airport. It had been...interesting convincing Jesse that he didn’t need a
babysitter. 
 “Jesse, I lived on the streets for months, I know how to take care of myself.”
 “Yeah, that was before you were serial killer bait.”
 “I’m just getting more streusel. I’ll be fine.”
Okay, so maybe he hadn’t mentioned that he wanted to investigate more into the
mysterious man who probably wasn’t still in the city anyways just to get a
closer look to see if maybe he was true serial killer material.
(He considered himself an expert at this point.)
(Plus he had a serious streusel addiction.)
A block away from the little streusel shop, he heard the telltale sounds of
footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn, just ducked quickly down an alleyway. 
The footsteps quickened after him. 
Kurt jumped up onto a trashcan and leapt, fingers catching on the edge of a
windowsill that he quickly grabbed hold of with his other hand. He managed to
swing himself into a window porch before clambering up onto the railing and
then up to the roof. He quickly hopped to the closest neighboring roof and then
took off running.
Despite the fact that what he was doing was incredibly stupid, a smile tugged
on Kurt’s lips as he dodged around chimneys and jumped across six-foot gaps. It
reminded him of when he’d run from whatever authorities he’d be running from
back in Seattle, slicing through alleyways, hiding on fire escapes, weaving
easily through large crowds... Sure he wasn’t exactly graceful and tended to
accidentally end up hurling wherever he needed to go, but a small part of him
couldn’t deny that he’d missed this. 
He saw a large eight foot gap and leapt for it, grin on face.
He didn’t make it.
His stomach dropped out of him as his chest hit the edge of the roof and he
fell, managing to grab onto a fire escape railing, clutching it tightly as his
heart raced out of his chest. 
Memories of broken fingers and screams and shattered ribs filled his mind, and
he clutched the railing tighter before taking a deep breath and letting go,
landing on the ground easily. 
Looking both ways to ensure that he was alone, he slowly headed back the long
roundabout way to the bakery, taking out his phone to call Jesse.
“Hey, you know that thing you said I shouldn’t do? Well...um...”
***
“What the fuck, Kurt?”
Kurt walked back into the hotel room, munching on streusel. “Sorry?”
“So let me get this straight,” Jesse rubbed his eyes. “You thought someone was
following you, so instead of ducking into the nearest shop or residence to ask
for assistance or a place to stay while you used your phone, you ran down an
empty alley, somehow climbed up onto the roof, started roof-hopping, nearly
died falling--”
“I didn’t nearly die,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “I just would’ve broken a bone at
the very most. Honestly, I’ve jumped from worst.” 
“Why didn’t you just call us initially?” Blaine interrupted, not wanting to
venture down that line of discussion. 
Kurt licked his lips. “Well...I...it wasn’t the first time he’d followed me.”
“What?”
Kurt sighed. “Last time I got streusel here...he followed me for a few blocks.”
“How do you keep attracting serial killers like flies, I don’t understand,”
Blaine said slightly baffled.
Jesse was beyond anger. “And it never occurred to you to even mention this to
us earlier?”
“I didn’t want to put you guys in danger--”
“Are you serious?” Jesse snapped. “At least write a goddamn note next time
before you run off after someone who you think is a serial killer!”
“God no,” Blaine winced, remembering the last time that had happened. “Kurt,
just don’t go off alone--”
“Oh, you know he won’t listen. He’ll always go running off after some form of
danger, thinking that he can defeat it. Well newsflash Kurt: You. Can’t. So if
you’re going to act like a fucking idiot and go running after serial killers,
at least leave a goddamn note next time so we can try and figure out where the
fuck you are and you don’t end up as someone’s drugged up fuck toy for a
month!”
Silence rang through the hotel room. Jesse fumed. Blaine looked shocked. Kurt
looked like he’d been slapped.
Jesse sighed. “Kurt, I didn’t mean--”
Kurt wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Blaine sent Jesse a look before running after Kurt. He headed up to the roof.
Kurt was sitting on the edge, staring out over the buildings, the wind ruffling
his hair. “How did you know I’d be out here?”
“You always go up high when you’re upset,” Blaine said, sitting next to him
along the edge. “Remember our first time?”
Kurt smiled, a huff of amusement wrangled out of him as he leaned against
Blaine’s shoulder. “How could I forget? Granted, it was in the top three best
sexual experiences I’d had up until that point so...”
Blaine arched an eyebrow. “Which was the first?”
Kurt shook his head. “I’ll tell you one day when I’m smashed.” He went quiet
for a time. “I came up to the Dalton roof quite a few times back when I had to
live there with Sebastian.”
“Really?” Blaine glanced over at him. They rarely talked about “before”. It was
almost an unspoken rule between them.
Kurt nodded. “Some nights Sebastian would forget to lock the bathroom door and
I’d creep out. I could never get past Hunter’s room because the boards would
creak whenever someone would walk past it and he’d stick his head out...plus I
didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t know where Jesse was and he was the
only other person outside of the Smythes who I knew.
“But some nights I’d go up to the roof. Breathe fresh air. Look at the stars.
Pretend that I’d fly away one day, or that someone would rescue me.” He laughed
faintly, scratching at the back of his hair. “I wanted to fly so badly...escape
my birdcage.”
“I would do the same,” Blaine said quietly. Kurt looked over at him in question
and he elaborated. “When I was at Dalton. I’d come up to the roof at least
every week. Stare at the stars.  It had been my favorite thing to do as a kid:
wanting to sail through their shimmering points and sapphire twinkles...”
***
 Blaine stared out his bedroom window, pressing his small hands against the
glass. All his lights were turned off, and he waited. The radio said it would
be tonight, so he waited...
 He gasped when the stars started falling. Grinning, he pressed his face
against the glass as they streaked down the sky, faster than fireflies. It was
quiet throughout the house, so the voices from his parents’ room carried
easily.
 “...and it’s not natural, the way he’s always staring upwards, daydreaming and
making up stories.”
 “Well he certainly didn’t get that from me.  You  ensured that.”
 “And his eyes. I swore they were yellow the other day.”
 “Again, that’s hardly my fault...”
 Blaine covered his ears as he watched the stars, not wanting to hear his
parents arguing over him again, or his eyes. Cooper had told him the story a
dozen times--when he’d been born, he’d had the most beautiful sapphire eyes,
more than Coop or daddy or mommy. But then, after seven days, they’d turned
hazel and daddy had been upset because Anderson men were supposed to have blue
eyes.
 He didn’t want to think about that though. He wanted to watch the stars.
 ***
Kurt nestled into the crook of Blaine’s arms. “Once upon a time,” he whispered.
“There were two little boys who wanted to sail among the stars.”
Once upon a time, Blaine thought silently. There was one little boy who did. 
 ***
They got back to Paris late that night and crashed, deciding to meet up with
everyone else again in the morning. Things were still tense between Kurt and
Jesse, so they let it rest for the night.
Kurt laid in bed and thought of the premiere that was to happen in two nights.
His costumes on the stage, open for critical acclaim. 
He rolled over and thought of all the dresses he’d designed as a part of the
accompanying line and how three had already been found on three dead girls.
Who the hell as doing this? But more importantly...why?
He sighed and fell into a fitful sleep.
***
 “Kurt.”
 Kurt’s body tensed as a hand trailed lightly down his back, but it wasn’t
Dave. 
 “Still jumpy, I see.”
 It was Sebastian.
 Kurt clenched his eyes shut against the pillow, wanting to scream but the
collar around his neck prevented him from doing so.
 “You know, Blainey is looking for you.”
 Kurt’s heart thudded in his chest as he tried to calm down, his body a raw
nerve, trying to anticipate Sebastian’s move. 
 “Searching everywhere. But he’ll never find you.”
 Kurt clenched his teeth as Sebastian’s fingers traced the scars that sliced
through the unicorn on his back.
 “And even if he does...it’s not like he’ll want you anymore. I mean look at
you...” he sighed. “Bruised and battered...” His fingers trailed down between
the clefts of Kurt’s ass, pressing against his hole. “And all loose and fucked
out.”
 Kurt thrashed against the touched, but couldn’t move much due to his wrists
and ankles being restrained.
 Sebastian laughed. “What? You knew how this would end, Kurt. He’s twelve years
older than you. And married. Did you honestly think he saw anything in you
other than a gullible little hole that he could fuck until he got bored and
went back to his wife?”
 Kurt’s eyes burned as his chest grew tight.
 Sebastian leaned down and tilted Kurt’s head so that they were looking one
another in the eye. “You and I both know, deep down, that he’d leave you. Alone
and abandoned. He’d never love you back. And that would kill you.”
 Kurt yanked against his chains, trying to bash his head against Sebastian’s at
least, but Sebastian just sprang back, laughing.
 “See? I told you there’s still some fight left in there.”
 “And you were right,” Dave’s voice came from Kurt’s other side.
 Kurt struggled against the bed, chest contracting as he tried to take in a
breath, trying to escape, get away, anything, but Dave’s hands grabbed at his
ass and spread him before shoving his dick into him roughly, hooking an arm
around the front of Kurt’s hips to arch them up before leaning his full body
weight over Kurt. “Come on, Katy,” he half-growled, half-chuckled. “Be a good
girl.”
 It was painful and suffocating and Kurt wished he would just pass out as he
tried to scream “Stop”, but his collar prevented it and he just ended up making
high pitched squeaks from the back of his throat instead. Teeth dug into his
shoulder and he bucked sharply, which just encouraged Dave to be rougher and go
faster and--
 ***
When Blaine awoke to an empty bed, he didn’t even think. He just reacted. He
called room service and ordered a pot of earl grey tea before pulling the
comforter off the bed and heading out to the balcony.
Kurt was sitting, curled up against the rails as he stared at the stars,
playing with his bellybutton piercing.
Blaine sat down next to him, pulling him into his lap as he wrapped the
comforter around them both and looked up at the stars with him. Gradually,
Kurt’s breathing began to match his own and then he relaxed against Blaine,
melting into him slightly.
“Which one?” Blaine asked quietly.
“Both,” Kurt whispered after a pause.
Blaine knew he meant Sebastian and Dave. They were the only two who he ever
dreamed about together.
“There’s tea on the way,” Blaine said quietly. 
“Thank you.” Kurt curled up tighter against Blaine’s chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Blaine replied, his heart clenching when he heard a quiet
sniffle from Kurt. 
“I wish the nightmares would stop,” Kurt mumbled. 
“I used to have bad nightmares,” Blaine said quietly.
Kurt looked up at him, eyes wet. “How did you get them to stop?”
Blaine’s lips turned up briefly. “Well first...I’d think of a wonderful
thought.”
“Any happy little thought?”
Blaine’s smile widened. “Not just any. One that would fill you up until you
felt light as a feather...” He trailed off, looking back up at the
constellations. “I usually didn’t have that many of my own back them, so I’d
make them up with stories.”
Kurt stared at him. “Would you tell me a story?”
“Of course,” Blaine said, leaning against the railing and looking up at the
stars. “Once upon a time, there were two little boys who wanted to sail among
the stars. One was a storyteller, who’d weave words out of thin air into the
most vibrant swatches of story that he’d impress all his friends with. Another
was a tailor, who could take even the most mundane colors and stitch them into
a story of vivid reality...” He kissed Kurt’s forehead softly. “And they loved
each other very very much...”
***** Chapter 4 *****
 
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
 Chapter_4:
“Gross.”
“Oh god, I don’t even want to know.”
Kurt and Blaine awoke the next morning to the equally judgmental faces of
Santana and Jesse staring at them on the balcony. 
“Wha’s wrong?” Kurt mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Blaine just
made a soft “hmph” noise and clutched Kurt tighter to him.
“Well, we’re trying to hold a meeting thing downstairs so we come looking for
you two and you’re the cuddle bunnies of the century,” Santana drawled.
Jesse stared. “Why is there a teapot--never mind. I’ve given up trying to
reason with your kinks.”
“Jesus, we just had tea,” Kurt yawned, trying to stretch, but Blaine was slowly
turning into an octopus, wrapping his arms and legs around Kurt tightly.
“So that’s what they’re calling it nowadays.” 
“Shut up--okay, Blaine honey? You really need to let go of me now.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No. My Kurt. Warm.”
“I don’t understand how he’s the eldest,” Santana shook her head.
***
Four cups of earl grey later, Blaine was sulking on the bed down in Brittany
and Santana’s room, staring moodily at his company.
Brittany bounced on the bed next to him before snuggling in for a hug. “Good
morning, Toto!”
Blaine turned to look at her darkly before taking another large gulp of tea.
“Alright,” Jesse called to order. They’d all managed to somehow cram themselves
into one room--Kurt, Blaine, Jesse, Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Sam, Mercedes,
Mike, Tina, Quinn, Puck, Jake, and Joe. “So as I’m sure Rachel filled you in
earlier, we have a killer on the loose.”
“Again,” Blaine sighed.
“Heading straight towards us.”
“Again,” Blaine sighed.
“And connected vaguely to Kurt.”
“Again,” Blaine sighed. 
“Seriously,” Kurt muttered. “Why the hell does this keep happening?”
“So we’re going to get you guys out of here, right?” Mercedes asked, crossing
her arms. “Back over to the states.”
“But my premiere,” Kurt frowned.
“Dude, but your life,” Jake countered. 
“He does make a compelling argument,” Blaine murmured into Kurt’s ear, earning
him a swat. 
“Plus I have an interview with Vogue.come the night after the premiere,” Kurt
argued. “There’s no way that I’m missing that. And this isn’t like any of the
last times. I’m surrounded by friends and family who know what’s actually going
on. And I don’t even know any of the victims and they’re not related to any of
us in any way. The only link we have to the killer is my dresses.”
“How did they get them?” Sam asked suddenly.
Kurt turned to him. “What?”
“I was just thinking, how did the killer even get those dresses? Wasn’t your
separate fairytale line supposed to go on display at the Into The Woods
premiere?”
There was a brief silence.
“Wow, that’s a really good question,” Jesse mumbled.
“Who was looking after them?” Blaine turned to Kurt.
“Well...Artie and Gavroche, I guess,” Kurt shrugged. “I mean, they had them
locked up, but I don’t know what happened to them after that. The whole cast
should have access to them, as well as the New York cast as well...”
“It’s true,” Rachel frowned. “I saw them the week before the wedding when I was
touring backstage with my dads.”
“So it could literally be anyone we know?” Blaine sighed. “But definitely
someone connected with the cast. God, this is New York all over again.”
“We should talk to Artie tomorrow at the meet-and-greet,” Santana folded her
arms. “See if he knows anything about the dresses going missing.”
***
The next morning, a woman in Dijon with blue hair was found crammed into a
closet painted in her blood, key marks slashed all over her body, and the
little key culprit clutched tightly in her hand.
“Well Jesse was right,” Blaine murmured, reading over Kurt’s shoulder. “The
killer is moving through France now. Also it looks like they’ve switched from
Grimm to Perrault, if that’s Bluebeard’s wife--”
“I’m going to go get pastries,” Kurt interrupted, pushing off the bed,
attempting to ignore the bile in his stomach. He could use the fresh air.
***
Kurt emerged from the bakery feeling much better, sporting an entire pastel
hatbox full of confections. He loved Paris. Well, at least that one small
bakery he’d found that gave him all of his pastries in hatboxes. It was
ingenious. And perfect. And--
And that was the mysterious blonde man.
Kurt ducked behind a cafe sign, peering around it carefully.
It was definitely his stalker, but it didn’t seem like he knew that Kurt was
there. 
Kurt crouched and waited, until stalker had moved down the street. Then he
started after him. They weaved through the Parisian streets and Kurt made sure
to keep a lengthy distance back, quick to dart into hiding whenever stalker
would turn, placing Kurt in eyesight.
Finally he stopped at a small apartment building and went inside. Kurt hid in a
bush across the street and waited, glancing at the windows, until he saw
stalker in one on the third floor. As soon as he moved away from sight, Kurt
darted back to the hotel.
***
“You did what?”
“He didn’t see me,” Kurt insisted, curled up around his hatbox of sweets. “And
I had my phone out with the police on speed dial just in case anything seemed
fishy.”
Blaine rubbed his eyes. “Kurt--”
“I know it was stupid and impulsive, but we have an address in case he tries to
do anything,” Kurt stressed, leaning forward to cup Blaine’s face and give him
two pecks on the cheek. “So there’s that at least, right?” 
Blaine sighed, taking Kurt’s wrists in hand and kissing each one gently. “True.
But next time call me and I’ll join you on the hunt.”
“Deal,” Kurt smiled. “So...you’re not too mad?”
Blaine sent him a weary look. “Honestly, there was enough drama to deal with
while you were gone.”
Kurt’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Quinn and Puck are fighting again,” Blaine sighed.
Kurt leaned back against the headboard, considering. The two were split over
the issue of their daughter. Quinn thought that with all the drama that
happened around their peer circle, Beth could get into some sort of trouble
along the line. Puck thought that splitting up the family was a terrible idea.
“We can’t really side with either, they both raise valid points,” Kurt said
quietly.
“And it’s their decision, I know,” Blaine sighed. “I just...can’t help feeling
it’s slightly my fault, you know?”
“How do you mean?” Kurt frowned.
Blaine shrugged. “Well, after I kind of butted into your life, everything went
to hell.”
Kurt stared at him incredulously. “Blaine my life was hell long before you came
into it.”
“I know, I know,” Blaine said hurriedly. “It’s just...I feel like I added
another layer to everything that just made it worse--”
“Blaine.” Kurt leaned forward, grabbing his hands and forcing him to focus.
“Let’s imagine that you never came to Seattle, okay? Schuester would have
killed me that night in Pioneer Square and I would have been some unidentified
homeless eunuch prostitute who had the misfortune to be slaughtered by raging
serial killer that no one probably would’ve ended up identifying. That’s it.
The end of my story. That’s what would have happened if you hadn’t have dragged
me out of Pioneer Square that night.”
Blaine pulled his hands forward so that Kurt was leaning towards him and he
tilted his head up for a kiss. Kurt indulged him softly before their lips slid
from each other and Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist tightly, not
wanting to imagine a world without him even though whenever he fell into fitful
sleep, it was all he could see.
“And you were exactly what I needed too,” Kurt murmured, raking his nails
through Blaine’s hair. “You never batted an eyelash at any of the things I’d
done or what had been done to me. You just focused on my safety and...well, it
wasn’t really any surprise how hard and fast I fell.”
Blaine just stroked his back silently, thoughts churning. 
***
As the sun began to set over Paris, the large party migrated over to the
theater where Into The Woods was premiering in order to meet the cast. 
The lobby glittered with glass cases that held the remainder of Kurt’s princess
dresses and the girls (plus Puck and Joe who were both overly interested)
dispersed to view them in awe.
Mike found himself drawn to the choreographers while Tina was squealing over
ex-Broadway icon Shelby Corcoran and Jake was drawn to up-and-coming theater
star Ryder Lynn.
Kurt found himself quickly engaged with fashion critics and fellow designers
who came to question him about his work and he eagerly engaged in half-English
half-French conversation while Blaine stood by his side, looking the acceptable
amount of brooding handsome to pass off the age difference between them. 
It had been a point of contention, back over in the states. Despite Blaine
looking younger than he was, people would often mistake Kurt for a younger
sibling or student or that one time when a flirty cashier thought Kurt was
Blaine’s son. In Europe, they tended to draw less glances, which they were both
grateful for. 
“Are you sure you don’t want to mingle?” Kurt murmured to Blaine during a brief
pause in the conversation. “You don’t have to stand by me the whole time.”
“I like standing by you,” Blaine smiled. “I like seeing what your hard work has
yielded. And besides, you went to every book signing with me. It’s the least I
can do.”
Kurt crinkled his nose playfully at him before turning back to the
conversation. 
Sugar showed up in time for the premiere with Carl and Emma in tow, all three
of whom had promised to fly out for Kurt’s fashion debut. Sugar started talking
a mile a minute about how much she adored the princess dresses and how her
father would pay any amount for Kurt to design one for her exclusively while
Blaine greeted Emma and Carl warmly, catching up with the couple before pulling
Carl aside and filling him in on the situation.
Carl stared thoughtfully. “And you’re sure that Kurt doesn’t have any other
known enemies that might want to hurt him?”
“Positive,” Blaine nodded. “We talked out his whole past a few nights ago and
there’s no one. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Carl sighed. “Well, maybe it does.”
“What are you talking about?” Blaine frowned.
Carl looked at him levelly. “Blaine...I dug up your file a long while back.”
Blaine’s expression turned cold.
Carl held up a hand. “Look, it didn’t matter to me, because you’re clearly a
different person from back then, but have you even discussed any of that with
Kurt at all?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Carl stared. “He doesn’t know anything, does he?”
Blaine’s jaw clenched. “We all have something we regret in our pasts.”
“Blaine, you need to tell him. You know everything about his past--”
“Not because he told me voluntarily,” Blaine snapped. “And don’t try to argue
that he would’ve--he was going to take that secret to the grave.”
“And look what happened as a result,” Carl hissed back. “If he’d been upfront
with you from the start, so much pain could have been avoided.”
Blaine was silent before he licked his lips. “Look,” he said quietly. “I’ve
already...considered the possibility, and let me be very clear: there is no one
from my past who would wish Kurt harm. And there’s no one who’d do this.”
“But how can you be so certain?”
Blaine tilted back his drink, wincing. “Because anyone who would’ve is already
dead.”
***
The first act was spectacular. The sets were amazing. The choreography was
stunning. The acting and singing was superb. And Kurt’s costumes just wrapped
the whole thing up together.
Intermission was spent with all the girls incessantly begging Kurt to let them
borrow the dresses at some point, or let them wear them for their birthdays, or
how Christmas is coming up (“That’s ten months away, Rachel”) and he really
ought to be charitable (“I’ll even sing you a twenty minute solo in gratitude!”
“No.”)
The second act started and Blaine smiled endearingly over at Kurt, who was
bouncing in his seat in excitement. “One of my favorite moments is in this act.
The Witch’s dress catches the lighting and everything sparkles...you’ll see.”
Blaine waited in anticipation for the moment and sure enough, just before The
Last Midnight began, the lights went down on Shelby Corcoran and her blue-
violet dress twinkled, reflecting miniature stars onto the surfaces of the set.
Blaine’s eyes widened as he leaned forward, listening to her sing.
“It’s the last midnight...it’s the last wish. It’s the last midnight...soon it
will be boom squish.”
Her voice lilted across the theater and everyone was held captive, the lights
and dazzling dress aiding the performance. 
“Told a little lie.”
 “Don’t worry, I’ll be back!”
“Stole a little gold.”
 He grinned at the necklace in his hand. 
“Broke a little vow, did you?”
 Rachel was the furthest thing from his mind as he practically bent Kurt in
half trying to get closer to  him, his hips snapping forward over and over--
Blaine blinked, shaking his head slightly to free it of thoughts.
“Had to get your prince. Had to get your cow. Had to get your wish--”
 “Please,” Blaine whispered, staring up at the stars. 
“--doesn’t matter how, anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
Kurt turned to smile at him and Blaine tentatively returned it before looking
back at the performance. 
“It’s the last midnight. It’s the boom splat. Nothing but a vast midnight.
Everybody smashed flat!”
 “Run!”
“Nothing you can do. Not exactly true. You could always give her the boy...”
 Blaine peered around the corner, trying to make himself small. 
 “He’ll never be accepted as an Anderson, you know that!”
 “He’s my son!”
 “He’s too different! And this is all your fault. If it wasn’t already what she
wanted, I’d suggest we just give him to her. We already have Cooper.”
 Blaine turned and rushed back to his room, closing the door tightly behind him
and climbing up on his bed, looking out at the stars. “Please,” he whispered,
rubbing at his eyes. “Please...”
“No...no of course, what matters is the blame. Someone you can blame.”
 His mother grabbed his chin sharply, forcing him to look at her. “Your eyes
aren’t right,” she muttered before letting his chin go and walking away. 
“Fine, if that’s a thing you enjoy--placing the blame--if that’s the aim, give
me the blame...just give me the boy.”
 Blaine winced under his father’s grip on his shoulders, looking up at the
strange lady who’d come to their house and was now yelling at their parents. 
 “He’s my son!”
 “You gave up that right long ago,” his mother snapped. “He’s our son because
you didn’t have the means to raise him, which is why we called child protective
services.”
 The lady turned to his father. “Please, he’s all the family I have--”
 “No.”
“No? You’re so pure, but stay here and in time you’ll mature and grow up to be
them so let’s fly, you and I, far away...”
 “Hello Blaine. Would you like to go to a place where you’ll never ever have to
grow up?”
“I’m the hitch, I’m what no one believes, I’m the witch. They’re all liars and
thieves like you’re father!”
 “You’re a monster!” Blaine yelled at his father. “And I swear to god, if I end
up anything like you--” His head snapped to the side as he was struck across
the face.
“Just like you will be too, oh why bother?”
 “Promise me, Blaine. Promise me that whatever you do...don’t end up like him.”
“They’ll just do what they do. It’s the last midnight, so goodbye all! Coming
at you fast, midnight. Soon you’ll see the sky fall!”
 Blaine fell through the air but he wasn’t scared.
 He was excited. 
“Jack, you want a bean? Have another bean. Beans were made for making you rich!
Plant them and they’ll soar! Here, you want some more? Listen to the roar,
giants by the score, oh well you can blame another witch!” 
 Blaine drew his sword with a cavalier grin. “To the death.”
“It’s the last midnight. It’s the last verse. Now before it’s past midnight,
I’m leaving you my last curse!”
 “He. Cannot. Love.”
“I’m leaving you alone, squirming in the mess that you made. Fix it on your
own! Time for me to go, I’m afraid. Back to what I know, back to long ago, safe
inside the world that I’m from!”
 “You can run, Blaine. But we all know that you’ll come back one day.”
“Better ugly and spurned with my powers returned and I fear midnight’s
here...time to disappear. Mother, here I come!”
Blaine got up sharply during the applause and left. 
***
Kurt raced out to the lobby after Blaine, finding him sitting on a couch and
staring up at one of Kurt’s fairytale dresses--the one for The Little Mermaid.
“Blaine, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked, tentatively sitting next to him.
“Sorry,” Blaine murmured, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. You should go back.
This is your big moment.”
“One that I don’t want to share without you,” Kurt insisted, linking his arms
with Blaine’s. “So tell me what’s wrong.”
Blaine sighed, leaning against Kurt’s shoulder. “Just a bad crop of memories
from when I was younger.” He gestured to the mermaid dress in an attempt to
change the subject. “These really are spectacular, you know. I can see why a
serial killer would want to dress their victims up in them.”
Kurt frowned at him, unhappy about the subject change and opening his mouth to
rectify it when his eyes widened and he turned to look at the dress. “Oh my
god...” he whispered.
“What?” Blaine asked, sitting up.
Kurt turned back to him, eyes bright with excitement. “I know how to catch our
serial killer.”
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_5:
“We’re going to...what?” Jesse stared incredulously.
“Throw a ball!” Kurt said excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “A fairytale
themed ball. See, the killer is clearly trying to make a statement, so if
there’s a giant ball with a bunch of fairytale characters all dressed up in my
couture, how could they possibly resist attending?”
“That is way too dangerous!” Jesse denied vehemently. “We could--”
Sugar slapped a hand over his mouth. “Kurt, when you say ‘dressed in your
couture’...”
“I mean that all of you would be outfitted in my fairytale outfits, yes,” Kurt
nodded.
“Done,” Sugar nodded.
“So done,” Mercedes agreed. 
“I want it,” Santana said shamelessly.
Jesse turned to Rachel. “Rach, you can’t--”
Rachel turned to Kurt. “Can I wear Belle’s dress?”
“Yes.”
“I’m in.”
“Rachel!” Jesse protested.
“Jesse,” she said calmly, taking him by both arms. “I know that you fear for my
safety and believe me, it warms my heart to know how strongly our love
burns...but you’ll have to trust me on this one.”
“But what if you were hurt?” Jesse asked, eyes distraught. “How could I live
with myself if anything were ever to happen to you? The answer is that I
couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.” 
“You’d have to,” Rachel whispered reverently. “If I pass, you have to be the
one to sing at my funeral and ensure that Sondheim writes a musical to honor my
life accomplishments. And you’d have to star as yourself.”
“I don’t know if I could sing a duet with a fake Rachel Berry though,” Jesse
said, a single tear falling from his eye.
“I realize that she'll be inferior to my legacy, but make sure that she at
least has a strong voice. And know that I’d be watching over you, my love,”
Rachel said, tears falling delicately from her eyes. “Just make sure to thank
me during your Tony acceptance speech.”
“Of course.”
They kissed suddenly and passionately, in front of everyone.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Santana blurted out. 
“Anyways, what’s our next move, Kurt?” Mike asked, turning to him.
“We need to get all of my fairytale couture out of the theater.”
***
It took a few hours with a whole lot of packing.
“So are we going to dress up as fairytale characters as well?” Blaine asked as
he stacked dresses into a large cardboard box.
“Easy with the silk,” Kurt warned as he picked up two tiaras. “And yes, though
I haven’t really given it much thought yet.”
“What about the boy who cried wolf?” Blaine grinned.
Kurt rolled his eyes. “No way. Hardly fashionable.”
“Or…” Blaine grinned, unearthing the hat from the mountain of cloth. “You could
go as Pinocchio!” 
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Kurt snorted. He picked up the hat with an
edge of disdain. “Yeah, no.”
“Come on!” Blaine snickered. “You can’t deny that the resemblance is striking.”
“And who’d you be, Geppetto?” Kurt rolled his eyes before shuddering. “Never
mind, that’s a bit too—”
“Pygmalion and Galatea for your tastes?” Blaine shot back, eyebrows raised.
“Agreed.”
Kurt stared at the hat. “Well, I won’t deny that I’ve sympathized with
Pinocchio on occasion.” 
“Really?” Blaine asked as he pilled the dresses back on the shelf. 
Kurt absently stroked the feather on the cap. “I’m not a puppet, I’m a real
boy…” he said softly.
Blaine blinked before dropping the dresses and walking over to Kurt, pulling
him tightly in his arms. 
Kurt clutched him back and they stood there for a time.
“I’m taking you away,” Blaine murmured. “After this whole debacle, we’ll go
somewhere together. Anywhere. Just pick a place.”
Kurt tilted his head up. “Can we go back to Italy?”
Blaine smiled softly. “Of course.”
***
Packing up was finished fairly quickly and Kurt lagged behind to make sure that
everything was done. He stumbled across a box that had his name on it and
opened it, nostalgia filling him as he recognized his old wig, forgetting that
he’d packed it along with the other things just in case he needed to model one
of the dresses as demonstration.
He smiled fondly as he ran his fingers through the auburn curls, sitting down
on the ground. Despite everything that had happened and gone down, he loved
that wig dearly. He’d been the one to pick it out, buying it from a small
antique shop on the road heading as far west as he could after the house fire. 
“Well...” he muttered. “Just for old time’s sake.” He slid the wig easily over
his hair before arranging it neatly. He stood, braiding it effortlessly into
pigtails as he walked, making sure that they’d grabbed the rest of the
inventory. He frowned as a flash of red caught his eye. Over a chair was Little
Red Ridinghood’s coat and he picked it up, putting it on easily and pulling up
the hood. It’d be less hassle to just wear it outside. 
He paused before going out onto the stage. He stood under the spotlight and let
his mind wander. In another life, maybe he could have been the one selling out
crowds or...
“Hello.”
He jumped, wheeling around. 
It was the stalker.
Heart hammering in chest, Kurt couldn’t even muster a response. He just stared.
“I’m a part of the show,” the man said easily. “Cinderella’s Prince? I double
as the Wolf as well?”
“Right,” Kurt squeaked out, knowing for a fact that he was lying. He’d had to
fit everyone for their costumes.
“And you are?” the man pressed, amused.
“Leaving,” Kurt said uneasily, turning to go.
“Wait just a moment.” A hand reached out to grab Kurt’s wrist.
Kurt tensed, turning back, ready to fight.
The man blinked at him with a smile. “I was wondering if you could help me with
a song?”
“A song?” Kurt repeated stiltedly. 
“Yes,” he smiled. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with ‘Hello, Little Girl’
and I’m afraid I was quite flat tonight.”
Kurt licked his lips. “I’m sorry, but I should really be going.” He attempted
to leave again, but the man yanked lightly on his wrist, spinning him around. 
“Look at that flesh, pink and plump. Hello, little girl,” he began singing.
Kurt tensed as he began to circle. “Tender and fresh, not one lump. Hello,
little girl.” He cupped under Kurt’s chin, causing a shudder. “This one’s
especially lush. Delicious.” His hands went to Kurt’s hand and waist, pulling
him into a dance. “Hello, little girl. What’s your rush? You’re missing all the
flowers. The sun won’t set for hours, take your time--”
“Mother said, ‘Straight ahead,’” Kurt yanked back, going for the exit. “Not to
delay, or be misled!”
“But slow, little girl,” the man laughed, pulling Kurt into a sidestep move.
“Hark and hush. The birds are singing sweetly. You’ll miss the birds
completely. You’re traveling so fleetly.” 
He spun Kurt out and started singing to the audience. Kurt started slowly
edging away. “Grandmother first, then Miss Plump. What a delectable
couple...Utter perfection--one brittle, one supple--” He reached out and
snagged Kurt as he tried to get away. “One moment, my dear!”
“Mother said, ‘Come what may, follow the path and never stray’!” Kurt sang
frantically, attempting to wriggle out of the man’s grasp. 
“Just so, little girl,” he gave a feral grin. “Any path. So many worth
exploring. Just one would be so boring. And look what you’re ignoring...” He
twirled Kurt around until he had his arms around him from behind, whispering
into Kurt’s ear. 
“Think of those crisp, aging bones...” His nose trailed down Kurt’s neck. “Then
something fresh on the palate. Think of that scrumptious carnality twice in one
day! There’s no possible way to describe what you feel...” He turned Kurt
around jerkily to look him in the eye. “When you’re talking to your meal!”
Kurt stepped back hastily. The man followed. He felt a swooping in his stomach
as he stepped back once more, off the stage. A scream started coming out of his
mouth when the man reached forward and grabbed him by the front of his red
jacket.
Kurt breathed heavily as he was standing by his tiptoe on the stage, leaning
back, the only thing holding him up being the man’s grip. “Mother said not to
stray,” he sang shakily. “Still I suppose a small delay. Granny might like a
fresh bouquet...” 
The man slowly dragged him back onto the stage and Kurt’s heart slowed a tad as
they stared at each other. “Goodbye, Mr. Wolf.”
The man smiled as Kurt hopped off the stage. “Goodbye, little girl.”
Kurt nodded before taking off down the aisle, running as fast as he could.
***
Kurt didn’t tell Blaine about his run-in with the stalker.
He realized that this was an incredibly stupid idea, but on his way back to the
hotel, after the sheer terror had subsided from his heart, he felt nothing
other than anger.
He was pissed off. This guy had managed to terrify him and manipulate him and
touch him without his consent and Kurt was done. He was done with men playing
around with him and treating him like he was nothing.
So he started plotting his takedown of the stalker. 
***
The next day, he diligently hung up the dresses around his hotel room, artfully
arranged sketches of his future fashion lines around the bed and desk, and
nonchalantly sat in his chair, sketching away.
(Blaine had been exiled from the room twenty minutes prior.)
A knock came on the door and Kurt looked up nonchalantly from his sketchpad,
breezily brushing his hair back. “Come in?”
A woman in her mid-thirties opened the door, sweeping her long dirty blonde
locks off of her shoulders, smiling brilliantly in a neat navy sundress,
accented by a beautiful winged bejeweled necklace. “Hello!” she walked forward,
extending a hand. “I’m Isabelle Wright.”
“Kurt Hummel,” Kurt smiled back, shaking her hand and offering her a chair.
“I’m a big fan. I love your designs.”
“Likewise,” she smiled. “I saw your portfolio of your Wizard of Oz line. I
thought it was spectacular.”
“Ah,” he smiled sadly. “Well, I’m glad that someone did.”
Isabelle took out a recorder and notepad. “And now you’ve received rave reviews
for costume design in the Into The Woods revival. Not to mention, your
accompanying fairytale line.” She gestured to the outfits hanging around them.
“Which...I had been led to believe were to be on display at the theater?”
“They were, for opening night,” Kurt nodded. “But they’ve been taken because
they’ll be the starring pieces at the Perrault Ball later this week.”
Isabelle blinked in surprise. “Perrault Ball?”
Kurt smiled. “Yes, there will be a large costume ball this upcoming Saturday at
the theater, honoring the fairytales of Perrault, as well as that of Andersen
and Grimm. All proceeds will go to charity. Several young men and ladies will
be modeling my couture at the ball.”
“That’s so very exciting!” Isabelle beamed happily.
The door opened very suddenly and Blaine rushed in. “Sorry darling, I forgot my
wallet and--” He cut off after seeing Isabelle. “Wright.”
Isabelle turned in surprise before a smirk and an arched eyebrow graced her
face. “Anderson.”
“What are you doing around these parts?”
“Interviewing an up-and-coming designer. I could ask you the same question.”
“Wait,” Kurt blinked in confusion. “Do you two know each other?”
“Wait, Isabelleis your Vogue.com interviewer?” Blaine frowned.
“Wait, Blaineis your writer beau?” Isabelle asked, wide-eyed.
The three stared awkwardly at each other for a second.
“Blaine and I are together and Isabelle’s interviewing me,” Kurt said evenly.
“So how do you two know each other?”
“Um...college,” Blaine grimaced. “We may have...gone on a date.”
“Which ended badly,” Isabelle nodded. “And then we became rivals in English
class.”
“But then Isabelle went into fashion so the rivalry died down a bit,” Blaine
continued.
“Until I started writing for Vogue.com and we clashed a bit more.”
“And she gave my book terrible reviews.”
“Well, they were all highly contrived,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “The only one
that actually worked was ‘Tea Cups and Biscuits and Murders, Oh My!’ and that
was because of the characters.”
Kurt turned to Blaine with a smug look. “That’s right, Blaine. And uh...how did
you come up with those characters again? Oh, that’s right...”
“Oh hush,” Blaine leaned down for a brief kiss. “Every great artist needs a
muse.”
“Exactly,” Kurt grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” He giggled when Blaine
flicked him as he grabbed his wallet, heading out.
“Bye, darling. Until next time, Wright.”
“Don’t count on it, Anderson,” Isabelle fired back as the door shut with a
click. She turned back to Kurt. “Okay, seriously though? Blaine Anderson?”
Kurt opened his mouth, then closed it, considering. “It’s a long and...very
complicated story.”
“How long have you two been dating?” Isabelle leaned back, taking notes on her
notepad.
“Since...” Kurt frowned. “Um...I’m not entirely sure?”
“Well, when did you two get together?”
When I was sixteen and we were both married? “Um...I guess we were officially
together about a year and a half ago maybe? But we’ve known each other for
longer,” Kurt nodded slowly.
“Huh...” Isabelle stared at her notes, considering. Kurt felt dread creep down
his spine. “Did you know anything about the split between Anderson and Berry?
‘Anderberry’ was one of the most well-known couples on Broadway before their
breakup, and then Berry’s subsequent engagement to St. James not very soon
after. Care to comment?”
“Well I’ve known Jesse since we were young,” Kurt treaded carefully. “And I
know that when he cares for something, he’ll care with his whole heart and love
it with very little consideration for himself...”
***
 “Take it.”
 Kurt stared at the three flashy credit cards now in his hand. “But--”
 “Kurt--” It had been so long since someone called him that. “--take it, trust
me.” Jesse cupped his face, which had been scrubbed free of any makeup, and
tilted it up so that they were looking eye-to-eye. “Run. Get as far away as
fast as you can.”
 “But don’t you pay your college tuition with these--”
 “I’ll worry about that later!” Jesse snapped. “Here.” He thrust a bag into
Kurt’s arms that was crammed with clothes, water bottles, and granola bars.
“Get as far away from Ohio as you can. Don’t go east, the Smythes have about a
hundred houses out there. Go west. None of us have any ties. Here, here’s my
cellphone number...”
 Kurt threw his arms around Jesse, clutching him tightly.
***
“I think Rachel’s lucky to have him,” he smiled softly. “And I think they work
very well together.”
Isabelle nodded, making a note. “So tell me more about these dresses.”
A sudden thought occurred to Kurt. “Say...would you like to wear one?”
***
“Isabelle’s onboard.”
“Wait, what?”
“I invited her to the ball. She’s going to go as the fairy godmother.”
“But why?”
“Because every princess needs a fairy godmother.”
“No, I mean why her?”
“Because she’s nice and I like her.”
“She’s my rival!”
“You can bury the hatchet for one night, come on.”
“Fine. Where are you now?”
“Running an errand.”
“Where? I’ll meet you.”
“No, it’s okay, this won’t take long. I’ll see you back at the hotel, honey.”
“Alright. Bye darling.”
Kurt hung up the phone and stared up at his stalker’s apartment.
Silently, he crept inside.
 
***** Chapter 6 *****
 
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_6:
He waited behind the door with the lights off.
He realized that it was extremely trite and also pretty underhanded, but men
had been pretty underhanded and also extremely trite to him over the years so
he thought what the hell.
After ten minutes he got bored.
After twenty he got frustrated. 
After thirty, he went to make some coffee, because this was just getting
ridiculous. 
After forty, he was perched behind the door with his cup of coffee.
At forty-three minutes, footsteps were heard down the hall and he tensed, ready
for action.
The door creaked open.
He smashed the coffee mug into the person’s head before reaching out for his
secret weapon in his pocket.
Within seven seconds, however, he was quickly knocked unconscious. 
***
A half hour later, Kurt awoke. He was sitting in a chair and his stalker was
sitting across from him with an extremely unamused expression, bandage over his
right temple.
Kurt licked his lips. “Are you going to kill me now?”
“I will admit,” the man said in a British accent which completely threw Kurt,
because earlier in the theater he’d sounded American. “The thought has crossed
my mind, but that would just be a waste of time, and also stir up some nasty
international politics. It would have been so much easier when you didn’t have
an identity.”
Kurt’s eyes darted around the room, searching for some sort of an escape route.
There were four windows and a door. He just had to get past the man who
appeared to be unarmed.
Time for stalling tactics. “Why did you kill the other girls? To get my
attention?”
The man arched an eyebrow. “I could easily ask you the same thing.”
Kurt blinked. “What?”
The man sighed before taking out a badge, showing it to Kurt. “Agent Adam
Crawford, British Secret Service. I’ve been investigating the fairytale murders
that have happened in Germany and France.”
“Secret...Service?” Kurt asked faintly, looking at the badge.
“But...but...wait, you’re not the killer?”
“No, I’m not the killer,” Adam shook his head. “I was inclined to think you
were for a while, considering that you were the only thing that linked the
murders together, but after you tried to attack me alone, without backup, and
completely unarmed I realized just how utterly incompetent and lacking of any
sort of homicidal skills, or indeed basic survival skills.”
Kurt’s jaw clenched. “I was armed.”
Adam’s eyes darted across his body with a frown. “Where? I checked everywhere.”
Kurt pressed his hands to his chest in horror. “Gross! And I have this...” Out
of his pocket, he pulled a spool of thread, a needle, and a thimble.”
Adam stared at him. “Seriously.”
“You’d be surprised what you can do with a needle and thread,” Kurt frowned. 
“And the thimble?”
“So I didn’t prick my thumb.”
Adam groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “How are you even real?”
 Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “And I have killed someone.”
“I know,” Adam sighed. “I read your file. It was hard to piece together.”
Kurt nodded.
“Listen, do you have any idea who the killer may be?” Adam asked, sitting
forward professionally. 
“No,” Kurt shook his head. “Though we think they’re connected with the cast of
Into The Woods in some way, otherwise it would have been near-impossible to
have access to any of my dresses. Which is why we’re throwing the ball.”
“A ball?” Adam questioned. 
Kurt nodded. “There’ll be a big fairytale ball this Saturday with multiple
girls wearing my dresses. We’re hoping to lure the killer there.”
“Then you can be sure that I’ll be in attendance,” Adam said with a nod. “I
think you’re free to go, Mr. Hummel.”
Kurt stood up to leave.
“Oh, and Mr. Hummel?”
Kurt turned back.
Adam looked at him sternly. “My position here cannot be compromised. You must
promise me to  tell no one of my existence.”
“I promise.”
***
“So my stalker’s name is actually Adam Crawford and he works for the British
Secret Service,” Kurt said as soon as Blaine picked up the phone. He was three
blocks from the hotel.
“I--what?”
“Yeah, nothing to worry about with him,” Kurt shrugged. “I was wrong.”
“Kurt, where the hell are you?”
“About three blocks away. Why?”
“You need to get back here right now. Rachel’s room.”
Kurt’s heart clenched as he raced the last couple of blocks and up the stairs
until he reached Rachel and Jesse’s suite, slamming the door open.
Blaine, Santana, Carl, Rachel, and Jesse were all there, gathered around the
bed. 
On it, the young pretty actress who’d played Little Red Ridinghood in the
production was lying dead, claw marks all over her body and red blood
splattered everywhere. She was surrounded in sweet-looking rolls of bread and
croissants and macarons that were scattered about.
On the wall, written in her blood, was a simple phrase. 
 RACHEL IS MINE
***
After the police were called to take away the body and they’d migrated up to
Kurt and Blaine’s suite, the gravity of the situation weighed down on Kurt all
of the sudden. “Oh my god,” he whispered.
Blaine looked at him. “What?”
“I just...” Kurt stared at him in shock. “I just realized that this has nothing
to do with me. This is all because of Rachel.”
Blaine stared back until it clicked. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Wow
that’s...that’s weird.”
“Right?” Kurt whispered. “Like...I still feel terrible, but not nearly half as
guilty.” He glanced over at Rachel. “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I mean, this isn’t the first time a
madman has been invested with me.” She sent Kurt a look and they both shuddered
slightly, remembering Schuester. “But...I wish all this death didn’t have to
happen because of it.”
“We’ll find whoever it is, sweetie,” Jesse reassured quietly, rubbing her back.
“I swear to you that we will.” 
“The killer’s after Rachel then,” Santana leaned back against the bed. “I
mean...looking back on it, it does make sense.”
“How so?” Sam frowned.
“Well, look at the first killing,” Santana shrugged. “It was on their wedding
day. And it’s slowly been creeping towards her.”
“We should fly you both back to New York,” Carl said, crossing his arms as he
spoke to Rachel and Jesse. “It would be the easiest--”
“No,” Rachel said vehemently. “I’m staying here. The ball is on Saturday.”
“Rachel, you can’t seriously be considering still going,” Jesse protested.
“Rachel, you should go back,” Kurt said seriously. “I’ll send the dress along
with you and everything as well--”
“I don’t care about that!” Rachel snapped. “This killer is after me, so the
best way to ensure we catch it is if I’m at the ball on Saturday dressed like a
princess. And we make sure that my face is all over Paris advertising it.”
“Rachel--” Jesse tried, but she cut him off.
“I will not run, Jesse. I will not let some pathetic psycho chase me away.
Whoever did this ruined my wedding day and my honeymoon, I won’t let them ruin
anything else in my life because I am goddamn Rachel fucking Berry and I will
not take shit from anyone.”
Silence rang through the hotel room.
“I love you so goddamn much,” Jesse breathed before embracing Rachel tightly in
a kiss.
“Again?” Santana cried indignantly.
“Oh, let’s cut them a break. They didn’t get a honeymoon,” Kurt sighed, turning
back to the other dresses hanging in his room. “Alright, time to plan this...”
***
“Okay, okay,” Kurt called out as he sat cross-legged on his bed that Saturday
afternoon. “We split into characters, based on the dibs that most of the girls
called. Rachel, you’re Belle.”
She stepped forward with a brilliant grin. “Belle of the ball, as expected.”
“You get her gown,” Kurt murmured, checking down his list. “And Jesse, you get
Beast’s outfit.”
Rachel eagerly took the large gold gown while Blaine handed Jesse his
ensemble. 
“Quinn, Cinderella. Brittany, Aurora.” Kurt dragged his pen down the list.
“Mercedes, Tiana. Santana, Jasmine. Tina, Mulan.” 
“I didn’t know you went Disney for this,” Blaine leaned over Kurt’s shoulder.
“I was inspired by the Vogue spread they did a while back,” Kurt muttered.
“Emma, Giselle. Sugar, Thumbelina. And Isabelle, Fairy Godmother.”
The girls giggled in delight as they dove into his dresses and compared
accessories. 
“Tiaras down! I’ll match you all up with jewelry and such that compliments your
features!” he yelled out over the bustle. 
“Oh Kurt, lighten up,” Mercedes rolled her eyes as she examined her pale green
down.
“Seriously, take a chill pill,” Santana said distractedly as she held up her
dress.
“I know the perfect stress-reliever!” Rachel grinned. “We should sing!”
“Oh hell no,” Kurt shook his head. “There is no way--”
Jesse turned on the radio just as a song was coming on. “All the pretty girls
on a Saturday night!” 
“So I called,” Sam jumped into the action, singing to Mercedes. “Your name.
Cross my fingers, uncross the others, hesitate. I don’t think straight with
nothing to prove...”
Mercedes giggled as she laid out the pale green flowered gown and he held up a
curtain so that she could get changed.
Puck twirled Quinn around. “I don’t wanna say I’m leaving, so I’ll just stay
until the weekend.”
Quinn rolled her eyes as she shook out her long blonde hair. 
Artie joined him. “And you can take all your things; the boxes and rings and
get going.”
He produced a stunning rhinestone necklace for Sugar who squealed and jumped
into his lap, offering him a messy kiss on the cheek. 
Mike did a wild leap over the desk to grab Tina. “‘Cause I’ve been waiting
for...”
“All the pretty girls on a Saturday night,” they sang together, dancing
cheekily with the ladies. “Let it be, and come to me with the look in your
eyes. Will you break and take all the words from my mouth? I wish all the
pretty girls were shaking me down.”
“So I call,” Jake sang suddenly, offering an arm to Santana so that she could
keep her balance as she got changed.
“I call!” Joe joined him, zipping up Brittany in her blue-and-magenta dress
that changed color in the light. 
“You out!”
“Out baby!”
“Just to feel a little better about myself.”
“He does!” 
“And I do.”
“You do!”
“Baby, I do. I do!”
“Until their lips start to move,” Blaine belted suddenly. “And their friends
talk music--I say ‘I’ve never heard the tune’!” 
Jesse grinned at him. “But I have, I just hate the band ‘cause they remind me
of you.”
Kurt sighed before raising his voice. “Every single night ends up the same, I
don’t say much at all, but I bring up your name.”
“Over and over and over,” Blaine teased him.
Carl finally jumped in, kissing Emma on the cheek. “I think it’s striking me
out.”
“All the pretty girls on a Saturday night. Let it be, and come to me with the
look in your eyes. Will you break and take all the words from my mouth? I wish
all the pretty girls were shaking me down.”
“But not you,” Jake grinned at Santana. “You still wear boots and your hair is
too long.”
Puck and Joe seized Mercedes suddenly, tickling her. “And then this one,
doesn’t want to admit she’s fallen in love.” They ran away before she could
whack them.
“Oh come on, oh come on, what’s a boy to do,” Jesse crooned to Rachel
romantically as she spun around in her gold dress while Kurt tried to get her
to stay still so he could place gold rose jewelry on her. “When all the pretty
girls can’t measure to you?”
They all grabbed each other and started dancing around like crazy.
“I don’t need your reasons!” Brittany sang to Santana.
Santana joined her. “Please just stay over the weekend!”
“You can’t take all these things,” Sugar lamented.
“They define you and me,” Tina leaned up to kiss Mike.
“Everything we’ve become,” Mercedes twirled Sam.
“You’re all that I need,” Rachel grinned. 
Emma and Isabelle both clasped hands tightly. “Please don’t make me face my
generation alone!”
“All the pretty girls on a Saturday night. Let it be, and come to me with the
look in your eyes. Will you break and take all the words from my mouth? I wish
all the pretty girls were shaking me down.”
“But not you,” Quinn gave Puck a slight noogie. “I feel your faith is
destroying the world.”
“And then this one,” Kurt grinned, pointing to Jesse. “Never really understood
the 80s is over and done.”
“Oh come on, what’s a boy to do,” Blaine sang to Kurt. “When all the pretty
girls can’t measure to you?”
“Oh, all the pretty girls on a Saturday,” they all grinned, clapping. “All the
pretty girls on a Saturday night. All the pretty girls on a Saturday night.”
Jesse spun around. “All the pretty girls on a Saturday night.”
They all laughed and clapped when it was done, the boys helping the girls into
their costumes. Kurt buzzed around, fixing hair, trying out accessories and
such, cinching Sugar’s salmon dress and telling her that no, she couldn’t wear
all diamonds, even though Artie as Rumpelstiltskin was only too happy to
oblige. He made sure that Quinn’s gown was floaty and light blue perfection and
that her silvery silk slippers weren’t too uncomfortable. He handed out a white
gold circlet to Brittany and a silver snake arm cuff to Santana and peridot
earrings to Mercedes and a hair comb for Tina and a shimmery wrap for Isabelle
and--
“Slow down,” Blaine grinned, catching him by the arms as he ceased helping Sam
get into his prince outfit. “Take a deep breath. Have you even thought of what
you’re going to dress up as?”
“Probably Pinocchio, like you said earlier,” Kurt muttered distractedly.
“There’s not really much else to go as.” 
“You know, Kurt,” Puck grinned, pulling at one of the hangers. “We still have
an Ariel costume.”
Kurt glared. “No. No way.”
“You already have your wig up here,” Puck shrugged. “Besides, do you really
want to go to a ball in shorts? Because that’s what’ll happen if you go as
Pinocchio.”
“I’m not dressing as a girl,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Blaine, tell him.”
Silence.
Kurt whipped around to look at him. “Blaine!” 
“Look, I’m not saying you have to go as a female version, but you wanted me to
be Prince Eric,” Blaine shrugged. “If you were the Little Merman, it would be
nice if we could go as a couple.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Fine. I guess the killer is after fairytale girls
anyways, so we should have as many there as possible.” He stared at the sea-
green and lilac dress, contemplating. Finally he shrugged. “Well, fashion has
no gender.” He got undressed easily and slid the dress over his shoulders and
hooked it around his neck, looking over at his bare back with a slight frown.
“Wish I had a mermaid back there now. Or at least a badass kraken.” He pulled
out his ponytail and fingered through his hair, leaning over one of the desks
to mousse it upwards so that it looked wavy. After dragging silver eyeliner
briefly under his eyes, he pulled on the fish scale slippers and slipped on a
silver fish armlet before sitting down to paint his nails an iridescent lilac
color.
He raised an eyebrow at Blaine. “How do I look?”
“Stunning,” Blaine stared. “I mean...it’s a dress but you don’t really look
like a girl. I mean, it’s androgynous--” 
“It’s amazing,” Isabelle said, examining the fabric. “Taking a feminine article
but making it neither feminine nor masculine, which leaves it up to the wearer
to determine.”
“It was partially inspired by your line of kilts,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly
as he finished his right hand, but inside he was secretly glowing from the
praise. 
“It’s honestly incredible,” Isabelle smiled. “And I can’t believe that I’m
getting all of this inside scoop. A murder mystery surrounding fashion and a
fairytale ball. The readers are going to utterly adore this.”
Kurt smiled back. “Glad to be of service. But...watch out for yourself tonight,
alright? The killer’s after fairytale females. You’re a part of that group
now.”
“Bring it,” Isabelle said confidently, glancing in the mirror at her piled-high
hair. “I was a black belt in college.”
***
Outside of the theater, the odd group stood, prepared to go inside.
“This is it,” Kurt whispered and they all looked at each other, nodding. 
They began to walk in, right as the sun went down and Mercedes started singing.
“The evening star is shining bright, so make a wish and hold on tight. There’s
magic in the air tonight and anything can happen...”
***** Chapter 7 *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_7:
The doors to the theater pushed open and music started filtering in through the
lobby.
“Is this ‘Hong Kong Garden’?” Isabelle grinned as they headed to the grand
staircase. 
“When one plans a Parisian ball, one must pay tribute to Sofia Coppola,” Kurt
said sagely as he fiddled with his armlet, suddenly nervous. “Alright, let’s
go.”
The ball was already in full swing as they swept down the staircase. Men and
women and all in between were dressed in fairytale garb as they flitted about
like candy-colored wrapping paper. 
“Kurt, this is amazing!” Tina grinned, spinning around in her teal gown to take
in the view.
Kurt shrugged. “I tried.”
“And succeeded,” Isabelle grinned as she turned to move towards the band
playing. 
“Disperse, everyone,” Kurt shooed with his hands and everyone filtered through
the crowds.
“Well I must say, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine grinned, sliding a hand around his waist.
“You’ve quite outdone yourself.”
“And I must say, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt replied, tilting Blaine’s freshly-shaved
chin towards him. “You look utterly dashing so clean-cut.”
Blaine rolled his eyes, moving a hand over his slicked-back hair. “One day
you’ll stop trying to make a respectable man out of me.”
“Never,” Kurt smirked as he dragged Blaine off to dance. 
An hour passed in a whirl of color and music.
***
“Mercedes!” Rachel giggled, plopping down into the seat next to Mercedes,
looping their fingers together. “What are you doing sitting down? Why aren’t
you dancing?”
Mercedes shrugged, taking a sip of her champagne. “Balls aren’t really my
thing, I guess.” She rolled her eyes, nudging Rachel playfully. “And what’s the
point of it if you have to compete with the belle of the ball?”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Rachel shook her head viciously. “I mean, I chose to be
Belle because I really wanted to wear this dress and I feel that the levels of
epic romance in that fairytale accurately match that of Jesse and myself--”
Mercedes suppressed a laugh. 
“--but let’s be honest,” Rachel gesticulated wildly. “Tiana was the best
princess. I mean, she was ambitious, didn’t take crap from anyone, never lost
her dream, and she effortlessly got a prince to fall for her along the way.”
Mercedes smiled lightly, considering.
Rachel nudged her heavily, nodding towards Sam. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
“Oh hush you,” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “We’re just friends.”
Rachel sighed dramatically. “And how you two have remained friends all these
years is beyond me. I mean, there is a reason we all call you ‘Sam and
Mercedes’. Now come on, girly.”
Mercedes yelped as Rachel suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the
dancing.
***
“You look very beautiful tonight,” Mike smiled softly down at Tina as they
danced together in their own private corner.
“And you look very dashing yourself,” Tina smiled back as she rested her head
on Mike’s chest. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
“Yeah...” he said softly. “Do you remember when we first met?”
Tina tilted her head back. “When I was eight and you were nine?”
“That’s right,” Mike nodded. “I’d just gotten a bad scrape from playing soccer
at the park and Emma was patching me up--back when she was just a volunteer at
McKinley Home--and I remember you were brought in and you were only supposed to
stay for a week.”
“And you ran right up to me,” Tina laughed. “They all said that they’d never
seen you so friendly towards someone else.”
“Well I knew back then that you were something special,” Mike said, leaning
down for a brief peck. “And I figured if I only had one week with you, I’d do
my very best to make it the greatest week of your life.”
“But I stayed another week. And then another.”
“And so I decided to make each week that you had with us better than the last.”
“And you never stopped,” Tina smiled, leaning up for another kiss.
Mike pulled back. “But...in light of recent events...I was wondering if you
could maybe reciprocate, and make the rest of the weeks of my life the best
that I’ll ever have.”
Tina’s brow furrowed as he let her go. “Mike, what--”
Mike got down on one knee. “Tina Cohen-Chang...will you marry me?”
***
“He proposed!”
Kurt’s chest tightened briefly before he was bombarded with an armful of Tina.
“What?”
“Mike, he proposed!” she squealed excitedly into his neck.
“About time!” Blaine laughed, hugging Mike in congratulations. 
“Oh, Tina!” Kurt laughed, clutching her tightly as his eyes met with Blaine’s
over the happy couple’s shoulders. “That’s great, I’m really happy for you
two!”
***
“Kurt, could you help with my tiara? It keeps coming out...”
Kurt moved over to help Quinn, grinning as he saw Santana and Brittany tango
by, Santana’s persimmon-colored gown swirling out sharply around her and
Brittany’s magenta-cerulean changing gown slightly transparent to reveal her
tattoo sleeves. “How are things with you, Quinn?” 
“Fine,” she said shakily, wringing her fingers slightly. “Listen Kurt, could
you maybe keep a secret?”
“Sure,” Kurt blinked in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“Well it’s--” she broke off, frowning over his shoulder. “Why is Finn here? I
thought he went back stateside?”
“Finn?” Kurt frowned, turning. “Where?”
“I could have sworn...” she trailed off. “Never mind. I’m going to go and find
Puck.”
***
“Alright, alright,” the singer tapped the mic. “Now, we have two very special
guests with us tonight. “Can Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James step forward?”
There was a light smattering of applause as the dance floor cleared and Jesse
and Rachel stepped forward.
Blaine turned to Kurt, eyebrows raised. “Did you...?”
“Just watch,” Kurt smiled.
Rachel stood, smiling at everyone and preening in the attention, Jesse doing
much of the same by her side.
“Now, these two got married a little over a week back,” the singer continued.
“But due to unforeseen circumstances, they were unable to have their first
dance as a couple. And so tonight, we will give that back to them.”
More applause.
“That was sweet of you,” Blaine murmured.
“Well...let’s admit, our wedding gift to them was crap, this was much better,”
Kurt shrugged.
Rachel and Jesse seamlessly fell into a perfect dance position.
“Did they...know beforehand?” Joe asked, leaning over to Kurt.
“Nah,” Blaine shook his head. “That’s just Rachel and Jesse.”
The all quieted as the band started singing.
“Tale as old as time... true as it can be... barely even friends, then somebody
bends unexpectedly.”
Jesse and Rachel moved easily around the dance floor as the lights came down to
glow gold and rose. 
“Just a little change... small to say the least... both a little scared,
neither one prepared, beauty and the beast.”
Kurt’s eyes flickered up, and right on cue, thousands of cream-colored rose
petals started artfully fluttering down over the couple.
“Nice touch,” Blaine murmured into Kurt’s ear.
“Ever just the same. Ever a surprise. Ever as before, ever just as sure as the
sun will rise.”
Jesse’s face as he twirled Rachel around was utterly priceless and Kurt felt
his heart clench tightly as he leaned against Blaine, a smile on his lips. “I’m
glad you ended up happy in the end,” he whispered, glad that Blaine couldn’t
hear him.
“Tale as old as time. Tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange, finding you
can change, learning you were wrong... Certain as the sun rising in the east.
Tale as old as time. Song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the beast.”
Jesse and Rachel’s dance slowed as the music began to fade.
“Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the beast.”
Jesse dipped Rachel dramatically, ending in a sweet poignant kiss that had the
crowd roaring.
“Kurt, are you crying?” Blaine asked quietly.
Kurt wiped at his eyes. “I...I’m just glad that they got to have their dance,
and it wasn’t ruined like last time.”
Blaine nodded. “Fairytale serial killers tend to do that.”
Kurt snorted. “It was ruined before then, because--”
He broke off suddenly, eyes widening. 
Blaine blinked. “Kurt?”
“One moment,” Kurt said quietly as he began moving between the dancers, eyes
scanning the crowds. He turned left and right, searching, looking--
A hand grabbed his and pulled him into a dance. Kurt’s eyes widened as he
realized it was Adam Crawford. 
“Well hello there, Mr. Hummel,” Adam smiled. “You’ve put together quite the
soiree. And have...” He eyed Kurt’s dress. “Quite the ensemble.”
“Fashion has no gender,” Kurt sniffed, sticking to his motto. And the dress
wasn’t even that feminine. It had a thin swatch of fabric covering his front
and tying at the neck in a sailor’s knot which clearly showed off his masculine
chest, and then it just flared out at the hips in a mimic of waves and fins.
And he was wearing flats, for god’s sake. “And you’re not much better,” he eyed
Adam.
“I said Cinderella’s Prince and I’m sticking to that,” Adam shrugged in his
royal attire. “Plus I’ve convinced three girls here tonight that I’m Prince
William.”
Kurt turned his head to hide his smile. “Well I’m sure they’re all charmed.”
“Indeed,” Adam nodded. “Now if only I could just convince the men, then I’d be
a happy camper.” 
Kurt snorted.
“So,” Adam leaned closer. “Do you have any intel? Anyone showing their colors?”
Kurt gulped slightly. “I think...I think it’s my step-brother.”
Adam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”
“Finn Hudson.”
“The producer?”
Kurt nodded. “I mean, you probably saw the message that the killer left with
Little Red Ridinghood, so it had to be someone interested in Rachel, and he did
ruin their wedding. I just...there’s literally no one else I can think of who
would do this.”
“But wasn’t he in Paris for the wedding?” Adam frowned. 
“It’s not airtight,” Kurt shrugged. “But it’s the only lead I have.”
“Okay,” Adam nodded. “Alright, I’ll go find him.” 
He spun Kurt out into the crowd before moving away.
“There you are,” Blaine came up behind Kurt. “You disappeared. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Kurt shook his head. “Well, it might be nothing. We’ll see how it
plays out...” He tucked a curl that was trying to escape Blaine’s gel back
behind his ear. “I know I’ve said it before, but you look exceedingly dashing
tonight. The perfect Eric.”
Blaine smiled, allowing Kurt to spin him. “Well, almost perfect. I know Eric is
supposed to have perfect blue eyes, or whatever.”
“No,” Kurt frowned. “Your eyes are even better.”
Blaine blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes,” Kurt nodded. “I love your eyes. They’re so...warm. And safe. And
perfect. Blue eyes are boring.” He rolled his own.
Blaine stared at him for a beat before leaning forward for a sweet kiss. 
Kurt smiled when he pulled back. “What was that for?”
“Just...I love you,” Blaine said quietly. “All of you. Judy G, Dorothy
Porcelain, Alexandra Bergamot, Ellie Gray...even Katy. Because they’re all from
you and they’re all a part of you.” He cupped Kurt’s face gently. “I love all
versions of Kurt.”
Kurt stared at him before leaning up for a kiss, just as the clock struck
twelve.
Several things happened at once.
The chime echoed throughout the room.
The lights went out.
A hand yanked Kurt backwards.
Kurt yelled but it was lost over the panic of the crowd.
He thought he heard Blaine yell his name.
Then something hit him in the back of the head, and everything went black.
***
When Kurt came to, he was in a very dark and wet-looking underground room, tied
to a chair.
“Are you serious?” he groaned. 
“Kurt?”
He turned his head sharply to the left, able to make out blue chiffon and
blonde curls. “Quinn? Is that you?”
“Kurt, what’s going on?”
“Rachel?” he jerked his head to his right, frowning. “Wait, why are we all
here?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said shakily.
“Is it just the three of us?”
“I think so,” Rachel said.
Kurt leaned back in his chair, taking in his surroundings. “Where are we?”
“I think...” Rachel swallowed loudly. “I think we’re under the theater.”
Kurt’s head fell forward. “God, so the killer is going to go all Phantom on us?
I mean...that’s imaginative, if not incredibly lame.”
“Kurt, what’s going to happen to us?” Rachel shivered.
“Well...” Kurt briefly considered. “If they’re anything like the serial killers
I’ve dealt with in the past...” He shivered unintentionally. “Let’s just stick
together you guys.”
“But what if they separate us?” Rachel asked, starting to panic. “What if they
only take one at a time, or--”
“I think I know who the killer is,” Kurt muttered.
“Who?”
He sighed. “The person who makes the most sense...is Finn.”
“Finn?” Rachel tried to twist her body far enough to face him, though it didn’t
really work.
“He has the motive,” Kurt said quietly.
“He’s your stepbrother. Why would he kidnap you too--”
She was cut off by a strangled sob from Quinn.
“Quinn?” Kurt tried to turn to her. “Are you hurt?”
“No, it’s just,” she sobbed. “Oh god, we’re probably going to die here. I’m
never going to see Beth again.”
Kurt’s heart clenched and he wished more than anything that he could just reach
over and hug her. “Well, don’t give up hope. I mean, they’re all probably
looking for us.”
“Jesse will come,” Rachel said quietly. 
“So will Blaine,” Kurt nodded. “And Puck will come for you too, Quinn.”
“No he won’t,” Quinn shook her head. “He’s mad at me because I’ve been wanting
to let someone else adopt Beth and I told him tonight that I found a
candidate.” She paused, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “He’s so upset, I
can’t--”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kurt soothed. “Puck still adores you. And you know that he’ll
always come around. I mean...you two aren’t even together, but you’ve been
great parents to Beth.”
“I just want more for her,” Quinn said quietly. “Is that so much to ask?”
“No, it’s not,” Kurt shook his head.
Silence hung over them.
“Kurt?”
“Rachel?”
“Um,” she said shakily. “In case one of us doesn’t make it out of here for some
reason, I have something to say to you.”
“Rachel, don’t talk like that,” Kurt sighed, twisting at his wrists. “I’m sure
we’ll be fine.”
“But still,” she said. “I just...I hated you, and I’m sorry.”
“Because of Blaine?”
She sighed. “I just hated that he wanted you--some scrawny tattooed teenager
over well...me.”
Kurt stared at the damp wall in front of him. 
“Well, as long as it’s confession time,” Quinn said suddenly. “I hated you,
Rachel.”
“What?” Rachel squawked. “What did I ever do to you?”
“I just...” Quinn sighed. “I blamed you in part for the whole Schuester
debacle, even though I knew it wasn’t your fault but...I just thought that if
you hadn’t been there, then Marley and Kitty and Suzy would’ve still been alive
and Tina and Emma would’ve have been attacked.”
“That’s...understandable,” Rachel said quietly. “I didn’t know any of them, but
I still have nightmares that they yell at me.”
Kurt sighed. “Okay fine, I hated you too, Rachel.”
“Because of Blaine?”
“Well...partly. More because...I mean, you’d gotten everything I’d ever wanted:
fame, glory, adoration, Blaine on your arm permanently, Jesse--”
“Jesse?”
Kurt licked his lips. “Well...as long as we’re confessing things...”
***
 “Here.” Jesse thrust a bag into Kurt’s arms that was crammed with clothes,
water bottles, and granola bars. “Get as far away from Ohio as you can. Don’t
go east. The Smythes have about a hundred houses out there. Go west. None of us
have any ties. Here, here’s my cellphone number...”
 Kurt threw his arms around Jesse, clutching him tightly. 
 Jesse wrapped his arms around Kurt. “Shhh, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but it
will be.”
 Kurt pulled back, blinking tears out of his eyes before leaning forward to
kiss Jesse.
 Jesse’s lips were soft and full and just slightly chapped but Kurt didn’t mind
because they didn’t feel hard or prickly and he could move his hands up to
softly touch Jesse’s hair which felt perfect and--
 Jesse pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes. “Kurt!”
 Kurt stared at him, panicking. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to kiss
you because you’re always there for me and I’m sorry, I just--”
 Jesse leaned forward to kiss him back.
 Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around Jesse’s neck as Jesse’s hands went to his
waist. Kurt’s hands slowly started to move down to Jesse’s collar, unbuttoning
his shirt.
 “Kurt--”
 “Please,” Kurt whispered. “Please, just one time that’s mine before I leave.”
His hands started scrambling desperately at the buttons. “I know you only like
girls, but I look like one and you could pretend just please, I--”
 “Kurt!” Jesse said loudly, pulling back. There was a pause. “Kurt, I...you
don’t have to pretend to be a girl,” he said quietly, running a hand through
Kurt’s curls. “You can just--okay.”
 “Okay?”
 “Okay,” Jesse nodded, leaning forward for another kiss. “Okay.”
 They ended up on Jesse’s bed, stripped of clothing. Jesse held Kurt around his
scarred back with one hand, kissing softly at his shoulder while he was
pressing two lubed fingers between Kurt’s legs. The skin under his lips started
shaking slightly and Jesse looked up, realizing that Kurt was crying. “Kurt,”
he whispered softly. “What’s wrong?”
 “I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered. “I tried not to, I just--”
 “No, it’s fine,” Jesse shook his head. “We can stop--”
 “It’s okay,” Kurt said, grabbing at Jesse. “I usually cry during anyways, it’s
fine--”
 Jesse wrapped him up in his arms and pulled Kurt close, holding his shaking
body. Kurt sobbed into his neck for hours.
 Later, Jesse dropped Kurt off at the bus station, making him promise to call
him if he ever needed help.
 Kurt promised, but he knew he never would.
***
“I was in love with him,” Kurt sighed. “Even after the stuff I went through, I
still managed to have a silly sixteen-year-old crush. And coming to New York
nearly a year later and finding him so obviously in love with you...I guess I
just felt like a stupid kid and I hated it.” 
“So he was your first kiss?” Rachel asked quietly.
“No,” Kurt shook his head. “That was Blaine when I was five.”
“What?” Both girls jerked towards him. 
“Long story,” Kurt sighed.
“So,” Rachel frowned. “When Blaine came to Seattle, was he the first person
you...you know, consensually--”
“Oh no,” Quinn laughed. “There was the Kurt Hummel Must Have Epic Sex Agenda
before that.”
“What?”
Kurt smiled. “Puck came up with the title. After I snapped out of Dorothy and
had a failed living experience with Mercedes, I had to move back to McKinley
House. Puck and I got really drunk one night and I blabbed a little bit about
my past. Not a whole lot, but enough. And he went to the others and...okay, you
know this side of the tale better Quinn.”
“He told us that Kurt had had really bad sexual experiences,” Quinn picked up.
“And that we should ensure that he had a bunch of great ones and we all agreed,
so the Kurt Hummel Must Have Epic Sex Agenda was born.”
“Though actually I had had consensual sex before then,” Kurt shrugged. “But I
indulged them.”
“With who?” Quinn demanded.
Kurt’s lips quirked in embarrassment. “Sugar. Right after I finally cut my hair
and Brittany tattooed me and gave me the piercings I had back then. I showed up
at Sugar’s to thank her for looking out for me when I’d been living in Pioneer
Square, then one thing led to another...”
“Sugar?” Quinn laughed.
Kurt shrugged. “Well, she tastes as sweet as her namesake.”
“Ew!” Quinn and Rachel giggled and Kurt snorted out laughter as well.
“It was fun,” Kurt shrugged. “And...oddly what I needed at the time. Though it
definitely confirmed that I liked boys, not girls.”
“I always wondered, who was better? Mike or Puck?” Quinn attempted to nudge at
him.
“Wait, you slept with Mike and Puck?” Rachel squawked. “They had girlfriends!”
“Tina and I were fine with it,” Quinn shrugged. “I mean, Puck and I were barely
dating and I was already knocked up, and Tina was fine with it being a one-time
thing.”
“Mike,” Kurt said without hesitation. “Tina’s lucky. He was really sweet and
gentle. Puck was...well, he wasn’t bad, but he kept asking questions in the
middle and talking and it was really sweet because he didn’t want to set me off
or anything but it was also just so incredibly awkward.”
All three dissolved into giggles.
A door from up high slammed open.
The all grew very silent.
“Remember,” Kurt whispered. “We’ll be okay. Everyone’s looking for us. We’ll be
fine.”
There were steps echoing from some unseen location.
“If it’s Finn, let me do the talking,” Kurt murmured. “Maybe I can pull the
Carole card or something.”
A door that he’d not priorly seen to his right opened and the killer walked in.
Kurt’s eyes widened in shock. That definitely wasn’t Finn. He opened his mouth,
but Rachel beat him to the punch.
“Shelby?”
 
***** Chapter 8 *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Chapter_8:
“Okay,” Kurt said softly. “That is something that I legitimately did not see
coming.”
“Shelby?” Quinn contorted herself in her binds to look around the other way.
“Shelby, what’s going on?”
Shelby didn’t answer, rather circling the trio. “Three little princesses,” she
sighed. “How shall you go?” She trailed a long wicked-looking knife over
Quinn’s shoulder. “We could fuse molten glass to your feet, Quinny and make you
dance until you drop...” Moving over to Rachel. “We could find you a beast to
tear you apart, Rachel...” And then to Kurt. “We could beat you, darling, until
you turned into sea foam...” She smiled, her red lips curving wickedly as she
swirled her Witch costume around herself. 
“The Evil Queen is the killer,” Kurt sighed. “Honestly, how did I not see
this?”
“Because with your experience with serial killers, they’ve all been male, which
was the perfect way to hide under your radar, darling,” Shelby replied with
ease.
“No,” Kurt shook his head. “No, the whole ‘Rachel is mine’ is what threw me
off. I thought for sure that it was Finn...”
“No,” Shelby shook her head. “Rachel’s mine in a way she’ll never be Finn’s or
Blaine’s or Jesse’s or any of those other stupid men. She is mine and I should
be the one to decide her fate!”
“But I hardly know you!” Rachel protested. “I mean, you’re a legend and I
looked up to you a lot when I was first making it on Broadway--”
“Why did you do it?” Kurt interrupted, hoping for a distraction as he wriggled
his hands back into the folds of his dress where he had a small pocket with a
needle, thimble, and small spool of thread. He grabbed the needle and started
pricking at the knot. “I don’t understand motive. Why would you kill all those
girls?”
“Do you know what it’s like?” Shelby snapped, suddenly in front of him. “No, of
course you don’t, darling, you’re just hitting the height of your youth. And
it’s wonderful and glorious and you can take the world. But once you do, you
have to keep that throne. But you can’t when you’re growing older every second.
Nobody wants you for the leads anymore. You join the other old husks that have
prestige on the stage, but are only hired in supporting roles to bring in the
old donors. All the while, you have to watch your beloved kingdom taken over by
fresh-faced little girls who don’t even know the meaning of work.”
“So you’ve killed all these girls because you can’t handle your midlife
crisis?” Rachel yelled, thrashing against her bonds. “That’s the stupidest
thing I’ve ever heard!” 
“You had to have had help,” Kurt frowned. “There’s no way you could have done
this all on your own.”
“Oh, a lady never tells, darling,” she winked. “Anyways, I have big plans for
you three.”
“But why us three?” Rachel demanded. “I don’t understand--”
“Well...” Kurt bit his lip, the ropes becoming looser as he picked at the
fibers, slowly breaking them apart. “Okay, I can see Rachel because of the
whole young girls taking over Broadway or whatever complex you have, and I can
see me because well...okay I can’t, but I always end up mixed up in this stuff
anyways, but why is Quinn here? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does,” Quinn said quietly. “I...that was what I was trying to tell you
earlier, Kurt. That I’d found a suitable candidate to adopt Beth.”
Kurt turned sharply, craning his neck. “What?”
“But why me?” Rachel asked hotly, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face.
“There are thousands of Broadway actresses and plenty in France. Why would you
ruin my wedding and do all of this?”
“Simple,” Shelby smiled, but it held little warmth. “I didn’t receive an
invitation.”
“What is this, Sleeping Beauty?” Kurt groaned. 
“Why the hell would I give you an invitation to my wedding?” Rachel cried
incredulously. 
“Shouldn’t the mother of the bride receive an invitation?”
The room echoed in silence. 
“What?” Rachel asked quietly.
“Didn’t you ever wonder who your real mother was, Rachel?” Shelby asked,
circling again. “Who’d given birth to you? Surely you know it wasn’t one of
your dads.”
“No,” Rachel shook her head softly. “No it...you can’t...but--”
Shelby lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Rachel’s chin. “You’re mine, Rachel.
You’re my flesh and blood, and I decide what happens to you.” She released her
chin and Rachel’s head fell forward weakly. 
“Wait...” Kurt muttered. “Alright, now I’m confused. If...if you’re really
Rachel’s mom, then that explains why she’s here. And you want to be the mother
of Quinn’s baby, so that explains why she’s down here too...but why am I down
here?”
“Oh darling,” Shelby said softly, leaning down to meet him at eye level. “This
is so, so much bigger than just you.”
Kurt stared. “Okay, that was incredibly vague, so why don’t you just spell it
out for me?”
Shelby straightened up and laughed, giving Kurt enough cover to slowly slide
one of his hands from the ropes. “Darling, darling, darling,” she chuckled. “It
is much too big of a story to tell. But enough of games. I think...Quinn
first.”
“No!” Rachel screamed.
Kurt stood from his chair and made a grab for Shelby. Shelby turned in surprise
before lunging her knife forward.
“Kurt!”
Kurt grabbed the knife just as it started digging into his collarbone, forcing
it up, the skin of his palm and fingers slicing against the blade. He used the
distraction to move forward, jamming his needle into the side of Shelby’s neck.
Shelby dropped the knife in surprise, staggering back, pawing at her neck, but
Kurt had pushed it all the way in with no small bit sticking out to pull it
with.
Noise could be heard from the hallway and doors slamming open and within
seconds, Blaine, Jesse, Santana, and Carl were rushing in, all armed.
Shelby started convulsing violently on the ground, foam coming out of her
mouth.
Kurt stared at her in horror as she went limp. 
Carl stepped forward cautiously, examining her. “Dead. She probably had a
poison capsule or tablet that she bit down on...”
“Kurt!” Blaine rushed forward.
“Rachel!”
“Quinn!”
“I’m fine,” Kurt said wearily as Blaine cradled his shoulder gently, looking at
the wound. “It’s just a cut, I’m okay.”
“Rachel, are you okay?” Jesse asked frantically as he untied her. “Come on,
talk to me sweetie--”
“She was my mom,” Rachel whispered.
“What?” Jesse pulled back to look at her.
“She was my mom,” Rachel’s face crumpled as she moved her free hands to grab
Jesse tightly and sob into his shoulder. “I-I-I always imagined meeting her and
m-maybe she’d tell me she was proud of me and we’d hug, but...but she wanted to
kill me, she--” Rachel’s voice became unintelligible as she broke off into
sobs. 
Blaine stared at her before moving over to stand by her. “Rachel?”
Rachel looked up from Jesse’s shoulder. 
Blaine leaned down to whisper something in her ear.
Her lips trembled before she stood, throwing her arms around him and he patted
her back, looking weary.
Kurt watched on, feeling confused and a bit alone before Carl came over to
start asking him questions around what had happened and Kurt distracted himself
with that.
Santana untied Quinn and pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back. Kurt
joined quickly as well, stroking Quinn’s hair. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered,
not entirely sure if he believed himself.
***
It was a quiet week after the ball. 
Rachel spent long hours with Jesse and her father. 
Kurt dropped by Adam’s apartment the day after to give him his final testimony-
-Adam wasn’t happy about the dead killer or the lack of knowledge as to who her
accomplices would be (“Paperwork is going to be a bitch on this one”) but he
begrudgingly thanked Kurt for his activity in the case. 
Puck came to Quinn with his own choice of a couple to adopt Beth, to see if
she’d approve, and she did. She knew that Burt and Carole would be great
parents and they already loved her daughter. 
Finn and Kurt had a long talk about how Finn needed to respect others’
boundaries and how Kurt needed to stop jumping to the conclusion that Finn was
the killer (“Seriously dude, that’s the second time you’ve done this.”)
Isabelle did a full spread on the ball that had nearly ended in bloodshed and
offered Kurt a job, which he asked to defer until he was off vacation.
Tina and Mike were married in Paris, with a hastily thrown-together ceremony,
courtesy of Kurt. 
And then most of them split ways.
Brittany and Santana were headed to India for their mini-vacation. 
Rachel and Jesse gave Tina and Mike the honeymoon plans they were going to
partake in at a resort in the Bahamas and decided to visit France for a little
while longer.
Mercedes asked Sam out and they headed to New York.
Emma and Carl took the Seattle crew back home. 
And Kurt and Blaine relaxed.
***
“It just seemed so simple,” Kurt frowned, playing with his belly button
piercing as he laid down in bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, Evil
Queen?”
“Granted, you did think it was Finn for a while,” Blaine countered, laying
opposite him.
“True,” Kurt murmured. “But the whole thing just seems...incomplete. I mean,
she kept saying that it was bigger than me and that there was a larger story
and stuff...”
“Well, she had her accomplices, who we never found,” Blaine shrugged. “She
could’ve just meant that.”
“There was something just so...off, I guess. And she kept saying...” Kurt
sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Never mind. You’re right, I’m over-thinking it. I
should just go take a shower.”
“No,” Blaine shook his head. “It’s healthy to talk things out. Come on.”
Kurt grumbled. “She kept calling me ‘darling’. I mean, she called Rachel and
Quinn by their names but she never called me Kurt and I guess it just bugged
me.”
“Darling?” Blaine asked.
“Weird, right?” Kurt shrugged. “No one’s called me that since I was a kid.
Well, except you, but whatever. I’m gonna go take a shower.” He rolled off the
bed and headed to the bathroom.
***
When he got out, he saw Blaine standing out on the balcony. He followed him
out, wrapped in a towel. “Blaine?”
Blaine turned to him with a smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes. “What do
you want to do now, Kurt? We have all the time in the world. Anything at all.”
“Back to Italy?” Kurt asked shyly.
Blaine’s smile widened and he leaned forward to kiss Kurt on the nose. “Back to
Italy.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt. “I love you. You know that,
right?”
Kurt pulled back in confusion. “Yeah, of course.”
Blaine nodded, pulling Kurt back in, eyes brooding.
***
One week later.
***
“What the hell?” Carl murmured.
“What’s up?” Bryan Ryan leaned back in his chair towards him. 
“Corcoran’s toxicology report,” Carl stared at the screen. “But...no, that’s
impossible.” His face sank in realization. “No...no, that can’t be right. No
way that’s--I need to get Kurt on the phone.”
***
In a small cabin in the middle of the Italian Alps, a living room lay in ruin. 
Plates were smashed. A chair was overturned. Clearly, there had been an
enormous fight. 
Kurt’s phone was somewhere under a couch, on silent, lighting up.
On either sides of the wreckage, Kurt and Blaine stood. Kurt’s chest was
heaving and he was furiously rubbing at his tears every few seconds. Blaine
stood incredibly still, expression blank. 
“I think,” Blaine said calmly after the painful silence. “That we should call
off the wedding.” 
Kurt blinked, his furious expression turning to one of panic. “What? No, no it
was just a stupid fight--”
“Kurt, look at everything!” Blaine yelled suddenly, gesturing around. “And look
at us! I just...we can’t...we’re not right for each other, Kurt. Jesus, I’m
over thirty and you’re barely out of your teens!”
“Why does that even matter?” Kurt stumbled forward, far past wiping at his
eyes. “We love each other. That should be enough!”
“It’s not, though,” Blaine said quietly. “It’s not for me.”
Kurt’s entire world came crashing down around him as Sebastian’s words rang
through his ears. 
 “You and I both know, deep down, that he’d leave you alone. He’d never love
you back. And that would kill you.”
“No,” Kurt muttered, clutching his head and shaking it. “No no no--”
He saw the vase, the one thing that’d yet to be smashed. 
“No.”
“Kurt?”
“No!”
“Kurt!”
“NO!”
***
Two days later...
***
“--and will be charged for the murder of Blaine Devon Anderson. How does the
defendant plead?”
Handcuffed and trying to suppress his giggles, Kurt raised his head with a
mischievous smile and uttered the word that would seal his fate to the court. 
“Guilty.” 
 .
 .
 .
 .
 .
 .
 .
 .
Kurt Hummel will enjoy Italian incarceration at the end of this April in The
Boy With The Cuckoo Clock Heart. 
 
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