Summary: Blaine fails to mention what he’s really doing when he’s at the library “studying” night after night. But here’s the thing: Kurt already knows.
The title is very obviously a reference to the Flash/Supergirl song from the musical episode because, duh. :)
As always, beta’ed by my own personal superhero and superfriend @a-simple-rainbow. ♥
Rating: PG
read on AO3
Kurt didn’t plan on telling Blaine what he knows that night but one thing leads to another, and Kurt’s secret about Blaine’s secret is out. Blaine just can’t lie to save a life, though Kurt has got to hand it to his husband – he saves lives like no other.
He’s kept his mouth shut so far, figured Blaine would come to him eventually, but now that he’s caught him red-handed – well, black-handed, technically, since the color scheme of Blaine’s suit is blue and black – he just can’t go on pretending that he buys Blaine’s lies about studying late at the library night after night.
“What are you doing there?” Kurt asks, sleepily yet horrified, as he walks into the bathroom and watches Blaine pull off his cape and cram it into the washing machine.
“Kurt!” Blaine flinches, turning around with an end of the cape still in his hand. “I- I… um, I was trying on a costume for…” He looks lost for a second, and his eyes light up when he finally thinks of something. “Halloween! Um, yeah, for Halloween.”
“Blaine, it’s only March.”
“Never too early for a good costume fitting,” Blaine says quickly, shrugging for good measure. “I… I got a good deal on Craigslist.” He pauses. “I wanted to do something different this year.”
Kurt raises both eyebrows and gives his husband a pointed look.
“Kurt, just-” Blaine sighs, both hands clutching the cape tighter, a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous. “This is not what it looks like.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kurt asks, and glares at Blaine. “Because it looks like you are putting a mud-soaked cape in the laundry along with a suit that I plan on wearing to my NYADA graduation.”
Blaine’s eyes widen. “Mud? What mud? This is a black cape, Kurt, how would you even know there are stains when-”
“I know I can’t see the stains, Blaine,” Kurt says, exasperated. “I just know they’re there. Do you think I don’t watch the news?”
The news is the reason he wasn’t sound asleep already in the first place. There was a robbery in a museum downtown, and Kurt watched the city’s hero on the livestream as he chased the thieves through the stormy New York weather before he finally managed to catch them – one of them he dropped mid-flight right into a dumpster in a back alley, and also right into the arms of a waiting police unit, but the other struggled so hard he sent them both crashing into a muddy puddle, thankfully knocking the thief out in the process. Of course, the city was abuzz with excitements over the news that their favorite superhero once again succeeded in catching the bad guys.
Nightbird they call him.
Kurt calls him Blaine – who now gulps and frowns. The grip on his cape loosens, and it glides out of his hands into the washing machine.
“The… the news?” he asks carefully, as if he doesn’t know.
“Really?!” Kurt groans. He’s at the washing machine in two big steps and yanks the cape out of it. “You can stop playing games now, Blaine.” He puts the dirty cape in the sink and pours water over it. “I watch the news, I see the cape, I know for a fact you didn’t come in through the front door because you forgot your keys this morning and texted me to let you in later.”
It’s almost comical how much like a deer caught in headlights Blaine looks right now. Kurt rolls his eyes.
“Fetch me some vinegar and baking soda for the mud, will you?” he asks.
“Uh… sure…” Blaine looks distraught as he disappears out of Kurt’s view, and Kurt can’t help but chuckle to himself. He did not imagine having to tell Blaine that he knows about his alter ego to save a suit – well, two suits – but he plans on looking extra good on the day he graduates from NYADA, so he’s not compromising anything.
Besides, Blaine really stepped into this one. Who texts his husband that he forgot his keys when he can fly in through the bathroom window anytime he wants? Blaine doesn’t even know this, but Kurt keeps the bathroom window open at all times, especially during the night, just in case, even though he hates freezing his butt off in the shower and on the toilet.
The things he does for Blaine.
Still shaking his head and chuckling, Kurt is soaking the cape in water when Blaine comes back with the vinegar and baking soda. He gives Blaine the side-eye while he works his magic on the fabric.
Blaine, pale-faced and biting his lips, is clearly looking for the right words.
“So I blew my cover today, huh?” he finally asks.
Kurt snorts. “Today,” he echoes. “More like five weeks ago.”
“That was the first time I appeared on television!” Blaine protests.
“And?”
“And?!” Blaine sputters. “You’re telling me you knew all along, and didn’t say anything?!”
Kurt’s hands still on the cape. Turning his head slowly, he asks, “You’re telling me you were a superhero all along, and didn’t say anything?”
Blaine blushes. “Touché.”
“I don’t know how you thought you could slip this past me,” Kurt says, finally letting go of the frustration he’s felt since day one. “I’m your husband, Blaine.”
“That’s exactly why I felt like I had to slip it past you,” Blaine says, his warm eyes as earnest as Kurt has ever seen them as they look at each other. “I couldn’t involve you and risk losing you.”
Kurt opens his mouth and closes it, taking a second to phrase his next words right.
“And I had to risk losing you by not being by your side each night,” he whispers. “Do you know how hard that’s been? I was so close to stopping you the other night when you rushed out to fight that serial killer in New Jersey.”
Blaine watches him carefully. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I believe in you,” Kurt says, shrugging nonchalantly despite the fact that he was worried sick that night and couldn’t breathe normally until he heard the unmistakable sound of Blaine landing on the bathroom floor carrying through to the bedroom. “And because I know you would have gone out there, anyway, I guess... I just wish you would have included me sooner so that I didn’t have to worry in silence.”
“Kurt…” Blaine’s eyes are watery as he reaches a hand up to his jaw. “I’m sorry, I just… I was so afraid I’d put your life at risk.”
“I know.” Kurt leans into Blaine’s palm. “We’re going to make this work.”
“We are,” Blaine agrees, and leans in to kiss Kurt on the mouth softly. Kurt melts into it, relishing the feeling of honesty and relief mixing into the kiss. When Blaine pulls away, he grins sheepishly. “So teach me how to get stains out of my suit properly so that I don’t endanger your clothes?”
Kurt giggles. “Were you really going to just wash your cape along with my other clothes hoping I wouldn’t notice?”
“Hey, I’m new to all this!” Blaine laughs. “I never played in the dirt as a kid, I was a really well-behaved goody two-shoes.”
“As opposed to now.” Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately. “You’re the vigilant hero of the city getting his cape dirty with mud. You could do worse.”
Blaine throws him a gentle look. “I really could.”
Kurt bites his lip into a fond smile, then elbows Blaine playfully. “Except with your superhero name, Nightbird,” he teases, smile turning into a smirk. “That’s really something.”
Blaine lets out an embarrassed squeak. “Kuuuurt,” he whines. “Don’t make fun of my alias.”
Blaine may be a real-life hero, but Kurt’s always going to be proud of his own superpower – making Blaine laugh and smile just like that.
“The nocturnal avenger,” Kurt says in a mockingly excited voice, waving his hand around and splashing water in Blaine’s face in the process.
“Oh my god, stop.”
“Admit it, you did it in honor of Pavarotti!”
“I didn’t!” Blaine protests before scrunching up his nose. “Okay, maybe a little. But it honestly sounded pretty good until you went and screwed it up just now, thank you very much.”
“That’s why you need someone to share this with, you know?”
Blaine makes a face. “Well, Sam didn’t have any complaints, so…”
Kurt stops goofing around and narrows his eyes at Blaine, not believing what he’s hearing.
“What did you just say?”
Blaine blinks at Kurt, clearly confused. “That Sam didn’t have any complaints?”
“Are you telling me that you told Sam and not me?” Kurt asks quietly.
“Uhm…” Blaine is clearly catching on now, looking from Kurt to the sink, back to Kurt and then to the sink again. “Is that done soaking because I really think we should move this along…”
“YOU TOLD SAM?!”
“Kurt, don’t freak out!” Blaine begs, cringing. “It was an accident, I swear! I found out I had powers when we had that trio reunion night with Tina a few months ago.”
“Great, so Tina knows, too,” Kurt mutters. Is he the only one not in the loop? “I’m feeling a bit left out here, Blaine.” He sighs, willing himself to pay attention. “So, Sam and Tina know.”
“By accident,” Blaine repeats, voice taking on an urgent tone. “When we went home from the bar, we saw a guy getting cornered in an alley… they were calling him names, Kurt.” Blaine shivers. “Like the ones they called me before they beat me up the night after Sadie Hawkins.”
“Blaine…” Kurt’s anger dissolves in an instant. He knows that night haunts Blaine, tortures him in his sleep sometimes. “Oh, Blaine, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Blaine looks up. “I suddenly felt so angry and… well, determined, I just ran towards them and started punching them, and then it happened.”
Kurt has seen it happen, too. The first time he did, on national TV, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There was his husband, in a suit and a cape and a mask, screeching at a villain so loudly that they tumbled backwards and then flying over to knock them out with force.
“I was so shocked, Kurt. I couldn’t process what happened. Sam and Tina had to tell me their side of the story to make me realize I didn’t just dream it.” He looks up, nodding to himself. “But I saved someone that night, someone like me all those years ago. And it felt so good. You know how I was so stuck lately, not knowing what I wanted to do with myself, not being happy with my performance major…?” Kurt murmurs a confirmation, too busy rubbing soothing circles into Blaine’s hands to say more. “I love performing but I really don’t think it can be a full-time job for me. And… that night I finally realized that there was something out there for me, something I needed to do more urgently. I want to help people, Kurt. It’s just not by making music or becoming a doctor or any other of my childhood dreams. I can actually do something now.”
“So you became Nightbird,” Kurt says, finally getting the whole picture. “And Tina and Sam…?”
“They help,” Blaine admits. “They know already anyway. They helped me with the costume, with headsets, with locating the bad guys… and Tina’s place is basically-” Blaine tilts his head with a frown. “Our lab, I guess? It sounds lame.”
“But it isn’t.” Kurt swallows his pride, focuses on Blaine’s pride instead. “You’re changing things, Blaine. You’re a hero. None of that is lame.”
Blaine breathes in deeply, turns his hands in Kurt’s and intertwines their fingers.
“So you’re not mad?” he asks timidly.
“No,” Kurt says firmly. “If I was before, it’s just because I didn’t know about any of this.”
“I really should have told you sooner,” Blaine says. “I just-”
“I know,” Kurt repeats. “Let’s be honest, I also could have said something sooner. But, you know, I thought I was playing it smart by just letting things develop the way they did. At least nobody’s gotten hurt yet.” He pauses. “Right?”
“Well, Tina actually broke her arm when she tried to help me on one of the first nights but other than that, all is good,” Blaine confirms. “We’re still kind of figuring it out.”
Kurt hesitates to ask. He’s afraid of the answer. But he pushes anyway, “Can I help? Get on the team? Be there for you, too?”
Blaine is hesitant as well, Kurt knows it by the way his eyes flit away ever so slightly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he says.
“But-” Kurt is ready to argue, ready to defend his choice and his abilities, but Blaine puts a finger on his lips.
“Hear me out,” he says. “I’m not saying you can’t because it’s not possible. If you really want to, I won’t stop you. But… promise me that you figure out your own career first? If it’s any consolation to you, I made Tina and Sam do the same thing. I don’t want you guys to become the team behind the hero… you need to be more than that. You’re all heroes, too.”
Kurt smiles. It’s such a Blaine response, and it reminds him of how supportive Blaine was when Kurt struggled with his college applications.
“Promise me you’ll keep thinking of your career as well?” he counters. “You can still make art and perform, if only as a hobby. It’s just – your powers shouldn’t be an obligation to give that up to be a full-time hero.”
“Okay.” Kurt gnaws at the inside of his cheek. “And… speaking of your powers…” He trails off.
“I have no idea where they came from,” Blaine says immediately. “Maybe I’ve always had them, and that incident just brought them to the surface.”
“I was going to ask if you could show me,” Kurt says, grinning. “I’ve watched you on TV so many times. I really kind of want to see them in person.”
Blaine laughs, then looks at the sink. “It’ll look weird without the cape.”
“As if my husband flying through our bathroom isn’t weird in the first place.”
“Alright…” Blaine mutters, lifting off the ground like it’s nothing. He holds out his hand. “Want to join me?”
Kurt’s eyes widen. “Wow,” he gets out in awe. “Can I really?”
“Sure. Grab on.”
Blaine lifts him up, as if Kurt was nothing more than a feather. Kurt holds onto him tightly.
“This is incredible,” Kurt whispers. “You’re incredible.”
“Superhuman, I guess,” Blaine whispers back. “Hey, Kurt?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, you know that?”
“Of course.” Kurt reaches up carefully to wind his arms around Blaine’s neck and kisses Blaine slowly, loving the feeling of complete weightlessness. “And I love you, Nightbird.”
Blaine hangs his head with a chuckle. “Not gonna lie, it really does sound weird when you say it.”
“Well, that’s what you get for not consulting your husband,” Kurt chastises playfully.
“I should have known that you knew,” Blaine replies. “You always know.”
“That’s because you’re not very subtle, Mister.”
“What?! I can totally be subtle.”
“Right.” Kurt laughs. “Like the day I knew my dad was driving me to my surprise proposal. Or when I totally knew you were going to serenade me with a marching band to ask me to get back together. Or-”
“Alright, alright, I get it.” Blaine lifts up both hands, and Kurt has to hold on tighter, before putting his hands back on Kurt’s waist and steering them back on the ground slowly. “You win.”
“And just for the record,” Kurt says, pointing a finger at Blaine’s mask. “That thing? Works for Green Lantern maybe but that wife of his must be blind. I knew it was you right away.”
“Ugh, don’t compare me to Green Lantern, Kurt-”
“But to be honest, it wasn’t even the face,” Kurt jokes, as he retrieves the cape from the sink and wrings it out. “You know how I really knew it was you?”
Could I have some fics with Superhero!Blaine x Regular Citizen!Kurt?
Definitely browse our Superhero!Klaine tag, and here are a few to start you off. ~Lynne
The Better Part of Me by nerdgirlproblems [PDF] [EPUB]
Kurt Hummel is the top investigative reporter at The Daily Planet, Blaine Anderson is his new mild-mannered partner, but a new red-and-blue clad superhero on the scene has just turned his world upside down. A classic love story with a Glee twist (Literally Klaine as Lois and Clark).
~~~~~
No Cape? No Tights? No Problem! by agent.girlsname
Kurt is almost mugged as he is walking home late one night when he is saved by a dapper young man called Blaine. It’s love at first sight and the pair start dating. What Kurt doesn’t know is that he’s dating New York’s most charming superhero and neither of them are prepared for what’s ahead…
~~~~~
A Hero’s Hero by ItsNotEasyBeingQueen
Nightbird (aka Blaine Anderson), hero of the city, is in trouble. Fortunately, Kurt Hummel comes to his aid. A/U first meeting fic.
Does any of you want one of these? I have 3 0 left and can send it wherever, I guess. I made it a million years ago and kinda don’t want/need them anymore. So if I can make anyone happy… let everyone know! :)
We can finally share the stories we wrote for the latest Klaine book. My art partner was unfortunateplottwist, who I was so lucky to work with! She’s one of my favorite artists in the fandom. Our trope was superhero!Blaine.
Enjoy!
Kurt Hummel opened his eyes and took three deep breaths to keep from panicking.
It had happened in a matter of seconds: one moment he was trying to stay awake as he rode the late night train from the library to his apartment after working on a very long essay, and the next was filled with screeching sounds as the train crashed against something, derailing and tilting dangerously to the side. Now, it was dark. Kurt searched in his bag for his bottle of water, giving it to an old man, who seemed in shock. He was about to reach for his phone to call for help when he heard a loud bang, and one of the doors shattered, falling to the subway’s floor like it was made of tinfoil. A girl choked on a little scream and stepped away, holding onto one of the poles for dear life.
Through the opening, a dark figure entered the train. Kurt could barely see at first, but as soon as he caught a glimpse, he recognized him: the superhero who wandered around New York stopping criminals and running into burning buildings to keep people safe. Kurt had seen his blurry picture in the newspaper. Everyone called him the Sparkling Knight, due to his bright, glittery purple outfit – and oh, wasn’t that the silliest superhero name on Earth? Kurt knew everyone was impressed with his supernatural strength, but once he turned to face the stunned passengers, Kurt thought his actual superpower should have been his smile, because wow.
Kurt had only seen a smile as devastatingly disarming as that once before – in one of his classmates, Blaine Anderson. They shared two classes, and every time Kurt saw him, Blaine looked exhausted. They had never talked – for how confident Kurt had become the past few years, it was still hard for him to walk to a cute guy and start a conversation, and Blaine seemed just as shy as he was – but once or twice, Kurt had left an espresso on Blaine’s seat, only to see his delighted smile when he found it. Kurt Hummel had a crush. There was nothing wrong with that.
The Knight approached them. “Are any of you hurt?” As the girl shook her head, bewildered, his eyes found Kurt, and Kurt would have sworn he bit back a gasp. “You…” he cleared his throat. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding…”
Kurt frowned. He touched his forehead, discovering a small cut near his eyebrow. He hadn’t even noticed it, but now he could feel the slight sting of it. “Oh. It’s nothing. Are you helping us out? Because you should start with him.” He said, pointing to the old man.
The Knight only stared at him for another second before he gently helped the man out. Kurt waited with the rest of the passengers as the Knight came back for each of them. When he was alone, Kurt grabbed his bag, as his heart beat in a strange, staccato rhythm, but the Sparkling Knight – oh god, what a ridiculous name – was back soon after, the tight suit accentuating the muscles in his chest and arms. Kurt did his best not to stare at him like a creep, but couldn’t help wondering what the Knight looked like under that little black mask. As he came closer, Kurt would have sworn his eyes were a warm, golden hazel…
“Ready?” The Knight asked softly, and there was an edge of tenderness in the way he spoke to Kurt that sent a thrill down his spine.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Kurt replied, and suddenly, strong arms were around him, lifting him easily, as if he didn’t weight more than a feather. Kurt could see him so much better now, as they moved along the tracks. His beautiful eyes, his slick black hair, his plump pink lips… “I can walk, you know. You don’t have to… and where’s everyone?”
“I left them on the platform. The police are already here, and ambulances are arriving,” the Knight answered, ignoring what Kurt had said first.
Kurt looked around, confused. “And… where are you taking me?”
“Oh,” the Knight seemed nervous, and Kurt was sure he was blushing. “Taking you home? To make sure you get there safely?” The hint of hesitation and shyness in his voice gave him away. Kurt was once again reminded of his handsome classmate, always so tired but never less cute.
It wasn’t every day that Kurt Hummel discovered a superhero’s identity, and he didn’t know exactly what to do. But he thought that perhaps, when he got to class the next morning, he could give Blaine his coffee in person. “That’s a wonderful idea,” Kurt said, smiling brightly up at him.
Blaine’s… the Sparkling Knight’s eyes shifted to Kurt’s lips automatically.
Title: something crazy
Author: preromantics
Chapters: 1
Summary: Blaine is a secret superhero. Or something.
“I think they’re calling him Blue Hands now,” Blaine says. Which he thinks is stupid, but largely better thancrazyhands, so he’s not going to make a big thing out of it.
Who cares that you get home safe?
Who knows you can’t be replaced?
Who thinks that you’re one of a kind?
...oooh, somebody loves you...
(An anon who apparently knows the shortcut to my heart prompted: “something where Blaine is an actual superhero named Nightbird and he goes missing for a few days/gets hurt/both and his boyfriend husband Kurt's all worried”)
UPDATE: Now with a prequel! But you should probably read this one first
Warnings for: anxiety
~2900 words | AO3
Blaine is late for dinner. Again.
There was a time when Blaine’s tardiness annoyed Kurt to no end, back before they broke up, worked on themselves, got married, and moved into their one-bedroom apartment in New York. Before Blaine discovered his latent superpowers and decided to use his strength, flight, and enhanced vision for the good of the people, no matter the potential cost to himself.
Before Nightbird was born and became the hero Blaine always wanted to be. (Or, the hero Blaine had always been, Kurt thinks, just in armor and a cape, even if Blaine couldn’t see it.)
So, Kurt used to get annoyed, but now, he just worries, because Blaine coming home late is better than Blaine not coming home at all.
The problem is… the dinner Blaine is late for was two days ago.
The first night, Kurt sleeps. Blaine missing dinner is an unfortunate thing that happens sometimes, so Kurt just puts his untouched portions in the fridge, gets some work done on a few costumes, and goes to bed. He figures he’ll wake up with his husband curled around him, or having tucked himself into Kurt’s arms, depending on how the night has gone, and Kurt will spend breakfast listening to Blaine’s stories of the night before, if he wants to tell them.
(On the mornings when Blaine doesn’t, Kurt doesn’t push.)
When he wakes to find Blaine’s side of the bed empty and cold, he pauses for a moment, listening, because maybe Blaine’s in the shower or he’s in the kitchen making pancakes or the door is about to open because he’s run downstairs to take the trash out—
Kurt takes a deep breath. He knows these scenarios aren’t true—he hopes, but he knows they aren’t—and as the realization settles, tightness wraps around his chest and throat.
He reaches for his phone with shaking hands and taps out a quick text to a number that changes weekly but he always knows by heart:
Status?
Kurt knows the rules. Do not use points of reference in messages to the Night Phone. Delete all messages and call records to the Night Phone. Do not call Nightbird “honey” or “B,” even though Nightbird sometimes slips up in texts to Kurt and breaks that rule himself. Blaine has a phone, and Nightbird has a phone, and the two are not supposed to cross.
Kurt needs them to cross. He’s a pro at compartmentalizing, but he refuses to do it now. Blaine is his husband, and Blaine is Nightbird, and Kurt needs his husband or Nightbird or whoever to be okay and come home.
There is no response to his text. Kurt feels like he might throw up if he sits there waiting, so he gets up and starts to putter about the apartment. He showers and puts on light blue pajama pants, instead of black ones like he was wearing before. He polishes the silverware. He folds his and Blaine’s socks and underwear and organizes it all by color in the drawer. He arranges the bottles on top of their dresser, first by size, and then in order of daily usage when that dissatisfies him, then by size again. It’s busywork, all of it, but he can’t concentrate on the actual work he has to do, and it keeps the scariest thoughts at bay.
By late afternoon, the apartment has never been cleaner.
His phone buzzes with a text, but it isn’t from his husband.
Change of plans, we’re going to that new vegan place tonight instead of thai, is that ok with you guys?? I got Jesse to cave >:P
I PROMISE it’ll taste like real meat! <3
Oh, god. Dinner with Rachel and Jesse. Kurt tries to get his heart to slow from the double-time thump it has maintained all day, tries to get a handle on himself as he thinks about his reply. This is one of several hard parts about Blaine’s night job; Kurt can’t even tell anyone when his husband goes missing.
He’s not missing, Kurt, he’s just late. He’s 28 hours and 6 minutes late. No, 28 hours and 7 minutes late. He could be back by the time you have to meet up. He’s okay.
Even as Kurt thinks about it, Blaine being okay after not coming home and not texting him seems extremely unlikely, but Blaine could be back in the next three hours. He could be home by then.
Four hours later, he isn’t.
Kurt shoots off an apology text to Rachel, telling her that Blaine isn’t feeling well but to let them know how the restaurant is. A few moments later, he sees Blaine’s phone light up on the nightstand with Rachel’s Feel better soon! <3.
Blaine being home with some random stomach bug would be preferable right now. Even pale and hugging the toilet in a cold sweat, Blaine being home with the flu and with Kurt looking after him would be better than being hurt and alone in New York. That’s what he is, isn’t he? Kurt thinks. The only plausible conclusion, now, is that Blaine is hurt, lying somewhere in the city, physically unable to return to him.
Kurt considers answering Rachel’s text as Blaine would, because even sick, Blaine would at least send a thx and some sort of encouraging emoji to acknowledge her, but he can’t bring himself to touch Blaine’s phone. It just highlights the fact that Blaine isn’t here to answer it himself.
He paces and twists his wedding band around his finger, because he’s run out of things to rearrange.
33 hours and 34 minutes.
As the hours pass, and it gets late, and then very early, Kurt sets up camp on their bed, a mug of coffee in his hand and his computer on his lap. The caffeine isn’t going to help his anxiety, but it will make him feel productive, and it’s not like he was going to be able to sleep anyway. He scans news and neighborhood watch sites, searches #nightbird on Twitter, refreshes and repeats.
Nothing. No Nightbird sightings within the past day or so, but no handsome, unidentified bodies discovered either.
With his nerves on edge and his heart still refusing to slow down, Kurt gets up to pour himself another cup. As he’s standing at the kitchen counter, pouring from the French press, there’s a harsh tap on the patio door. Kurt jumps and drops the press, and it falls into the sink, spilling coffee all over the counter as the mug drops to the tile floor and does the same.
“Caw! Caw!”
Kurt sighs. It’s the pair of crows that hangs out on their balcony. They adore Blaine, who feeds and talks to them daily, and they bring him little trinkets whenever they visit. At first, Kurt thought they were creepy, but over time, he has come to appreciate them; they’re fiercely intelligent, seeming to understand everything Blaine says to them, and they keep the disease-ridden pigeons away. And Blaine, who has gone so far as to give them names—Sable and Lenore, though Kurt can’t tell which is which—loves them.
They’re perched on the balcony rail now, making low, vibrating bird noises. Kurt slowly slides the patio door open, and one of the crows flutters its tail feathers and looks up at him as it says, “Caw?”
“He’s not here,” Kurt whispers, the words getting caught in his throat.
“Caw.”
Kurt doesn’t understand them the way Blaine does. He assumes the birds are hungry, so he fishes out their food dish from the kitchen cabinets, fills it, and sets it on the little patio table. The birds eat for a few moments, and then one of them raises its head and lets out a long, somber-sounding, “Caaaaaaaw.”
“I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.” It feels absurd, apologizing to a pair of wild birds his husband has befriended, but ever since that day Blaine lifted their bed above his head with Kurt still on it while he was looking for a rogue bowtie, Kurt has come to terms with the fact that anything is possible.
“My husband is missing,” Kurt tells the crows, and as his own words hit his ears, he starts to cry. He’s held off all day, unwilling to face it, but these damn crows are looking around, looking through their open patio door for their friend, and the fact that someone else now knows Blaine isn’t there makes it real. “Well, maybe not, what’s the official missing persons report time? 48 hours?”
Kurt looks to the sky as if he might see Nightbird flying around in it and says, “You hear that, Birdie? I haven’t seen you since noon on Friday, so you have eight hours to get your ass back here, or so help me, I’ll… I’ll… Please don’t let it take eight hours, but I guess eight hours is fine if that means it happens at all. I just… I know something really bad has happened. But I don’t know how to find you, and I’m losing it here, B.”
One of the crows flies onto his shoulder and starts to ruffle his hair with its beak. The other hops onto his forearm and caws softly.
“Are you like messenger pigeons?” Kurt sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Could you find him?”
The crow on his arm caws again, loudly, and stretches its wings. Kurt doesn’t know if that’s a yes, but the gesture gives him an idea. He darts inside, dislodging the crows, who both “Caw!” after him in a disgruntled way, and slides the patio door shut. Then he grabs his keys, his phone, and his coat—dark, negative black instead of a lighter, more positive color, unfortunately, but it’s the nearest one to his fingertips—and runs out of the apartment.
There are only three people in the city who know where the Night Signal is: Blaine/Nightbird, Detective Crawford, and himself. Kurt climbs the fire escape of the abandoned, dilapidated boarding school five blocks from their apartment and hoists himself onto the roof. In a matter of minutes, the giant lamp is on, and the Night Signal—a bird silhouette in a white circle—lights up the sky over New York City.
Kurt sits on a crate next to the lamp and waits.
This is irrational, he knows it, because if Blaine can’t fly to their apartment, he certainly can’t fly onto this roof, but maybe, somehow, it will help to bring him home. Maybe Detective Crawford is awake and he’ll see it, realize that Nightbird needs to be found, and rally whoever he needs to get something done. Maybe Nightbird will see it himself and know that they’re looking for him. Not that he wouldn’t already know that, but sometimes Blaine needs reminding that somebody misses him when he’s away.
Two hours pass before Kurt starts talking to the sky again.
“God damn it, Blaine! You can’t help yourself, can you? I—don’t get me wrong, I’m so, so proud of you, and I always have been. You are a hero. You’re the hero of New York. And most days, even though it scares me, I love that you can be that, that you can be everything that you are. And I know, Nightbird is for the good of the people, but aren’t I one of the people? What about me? Fearlessly and forever, B, you promised. You promised! And you’ve obviously got the fearless part down, but we’re supposed to have forever, too, and we haven’t been married that long. Please, don’t do this. Don’t die for them, just come home for me. Be my husband first.”
No one answers. Of course, no one answers. But Kurt can’t sit here anymore. He can’t look at this city full of people his husband keeps trying to protect. Eight million lives and counting, and Blaine cares about all of them.
At this moment, on this roof, Kurt cares about two of them, and he’s counting himself.
“Caw!”
Kurt jumps—god, he keeps doing that, his poor heart—and looks towards the sound. One of Blaine’s crows has landed on his knee and is cawing rather loudly at him.
Kurt immediately knows what it wants. “Show me where he is,” he whispers. He’s barely able to believe it, but he has to believe it, so as the crow jumps off his leg, he turns off the lamp and speeds as fast as his legs will carry him down the fire escape and back onto the street.
The crow flies a little overhead, the Night Signal come to life in the dawn, and as Kurt follows it, he realizes where it’s taking him. Kurt speeds up, full-on sprinting through the streets, and when he finally looks up at their apartment building, he sees that his patio door has been opened. As the crow flies up to the balcony, Kurt runs into the lobby, bounces restlessly on his feet during the elevator ride, and bursts through the front door.
“Blaine?! Blaine!”
Soft, pinkish-blues from the lightening sky outside pour in through the open patio door. The other crow, who caws at Kurt as he enters, sits on the kitchen counter and gazes down at the muddy, black- and blue-costumed lump that is Nightbird, who lies sprawled on his side in the coffee puddle on the floor.
“Oh my god,” Kurt sobs, running to the kitchen, and kneels on the floor. He wants to touch, but he doesn’t know where is safe, doesn’t know how badly Blaine is hurt, so he reaches for the black mask over his eyes and gently peels it off.
Blaine’s eyes open, the left more so than the right because of the dark bruise around it. “Kurt,” he says, breathing hard. He pushes himself up onto his knees, licking over his cut lip, and reaches for him.
Kurt hesitates. All this time, all this waiting, and he just wants to hold him and never let go, but if Blaine is seriously hurt—
“It’s okay, baby, I’m okay.”
The relief washes over him—Blaine can move, he’s alive, he’s here, he’s home—and Kurt wraps his arms around his shoulders, his breath leaving him in a shudder as he cries. He kisses Blaine hard on the mouth; Blaine winces with the bruises around the side of his mouth and the cut on his lip, but a cut lip is nothing compared to how much worse this could be, and it certainly doesn’t stop him from kissing back.
“Blaine, you—I thought—I tried not to think it, but I thought you were dead, I can’t—“
Blaine clings to Kurt and hugs him tight. Kurt can hear the tears in Blaine’s voice, too, as he whispers, “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I was helping this woman and her kids, they were getting away from her husband, and—fuck, that guy was scary. I got them out, they got away, and then I don’t even know, the guy was really angry and he came after me, and I tried to take off, get some height on him, but he caught my cape. I woke up a mile away, on the riverbank.”
Kurt can’t help the hysterical thought that crosses his mind—No capes!—and he sobs again, running his hand through Blaine’s hair. “Oh, god, you could have—“
“I know. I don’t know how long I was out, I think my body was trying to heal itself. I woke up and everything hurt.” He reaches up and puts his gloved hands on Kurt’s face. “The Night Signal was you, wasn’t it?”
“Well, I was laying there in the mud, and I looked up into the sky, and there you were. And then Sable and Lenore found me, and I knew I had to get home. It took all my strength to fly back to you.”
He made it. He’s okay. This precious, foolish, amazing man Kurt loves is alive.
“It’s Sunday,” Kurt says.
“Sunday? Shit, Kurt, I’m sorry, I won’t worry you like that again.”
Kurt shakes his head. They’ll fight about it later, but they both know that Blaine will go back out there as soon as he has recuperated. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Then I won’t let anyone catch me off-guard again.”
“Just make it back to me, okay?”
Blaine nods and puts his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “I know the sun just came up, but I just want to take a shower and crawl into bed with my husband. Can we please do that now?”
“Yeah. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Half an hour later, they’re lying in bed, freshly showered, and Nightbird’s filthy uniform lays where they left it on the kitchen floor. Blaine’s out first, spooned small in Kurt’s arms, as he insisted that Kurt hold him tight despite the bruises.
Kurt has no problem with that. He never wants to let go. He presses a kiss to Blaine’s bare shoulder, where the scent of his body wash wafts warm and familiar, and he treasures the feel of Blaine’s chest rising and falling with his breath, because Blaine is alive.
It’s his last thought before the exhaustion of the past two days finally sets in, and he finally falls asleep.
