#and saying I made him from the Bronx might be the worst insult

[chrollohearttags]

y’all are so ‘pro black positivity’ until it includes African Americans lmao. Fucking jokes fr.

[suckerstevie-blog]

yo yo yo this is hella late but i’m gwyn, here’s my intro, im literally writing this while walking out the door and i’ll be back eventualllyyyy ! 

( gigi hadid, she/her, cisfemale ) haven’t you met stevie hakim from the bronx? gg calls them sucker punch on her blog. i’m sure you’ve seen the posts. apparently she was disowned by her upper east side family after tarnishing their reputation. you might know of her as volatile and unrefined based on what gg has to say, but she can also be resilient and down-to-earth. she is twenty one and spends her days boxing professionally and teaching kids to box here in manhattan.

Growing up, Stevie had everything a kid could want. a lavish house in the upper east side where she could roam the exciting city -- going to the huge toy shop, riding horse carriages in the streets, hopping on beds in the Plaza. Once the childlike delights began to fade, she realized that there was nothing of substance. Her love for her family was only replenished when they’d buy her things to occupy her time, and when she realized this, she opted to focus on the humanity of her parents. Though, once she learned there wasn’t much humanity to work with, she uncovered her parents true colors. 

Her father had good intentions but never put them to good use. He’s a stockbroker for Wallstreet, and certainly provides for his family but it’s merely an obligation, there was no emotion to it, at least it was rarely shown. Her mother made her money selling her own line of skin care products, and with the help of her husband’s entrepreneurial skills and influence, she was able to make a pretty penny on her business. They were dubbed a power couple by the higher-up families of New York but were unknown in the press -- that is until their daughter came of age to stir up some trouble. 

As Stevie started to come to terms with her parents’ top priority a.k.a. their reputation, she soon became their enemy #1. It started with misdemeanors at her private school and turned to secret escapes to the city to do hell knows what with hell knows who. Her late night train trips to the Bronx turned into day trips which turned to more time there than at home. She made real friends in the Bronx, people who were unaware of her family’s wealth and accepted her budding personality. Though her main motivation to go to the Bronx was the booming boxing scene. There, she witnessed some of the best fighters she’s ever seen, and was inspired to say the least. She soon found a coach, Darrell, who not only taught her everything she knows but became a true father figure to her. 

At 16 she began to spiral a bit, getting into some more unhealthy habits as her friends were. More alcohol consumption, cigarettes, weed, even cocaine. Though the worst mistake was when she was 17 and got involved with a guy she met in the Bronx, who videotaped them having sex without her consent and posted it online.

Her sex tape gave her quite the following, and she was in a few newspapers and the local news. “Stockbroker’s Daughter in Sex Tape Scandal.” The writers of these stories couldn’t help but tie in her other transgressions into one sinful bow. Her name was even a hashtag on twitter, and unfortunately, a top search on pornhub. Her father did everything he could to purge the incident but it made a mark on the public’s minds and memory -- at least, thanks to her father’s leverage, there is no longer proof on the internet, and the asshole who wronged Stevie is behind bars. Though she is not at fault, the incident was the last straw for her parents. They were sick and tired of her rebellious antics and would not stand to let them tarnish their once pristine reputation any longer, so they formally disowned her. 

At first she was devastated, abandoned by her own blood and all her hard work she put into her boxing career would be undermined by one video. She was crushed, but not broken. She focused her anger and negativity into the ring and vowed not to let her parents nor any boy interfere with her life again. She’d pretend her opponents were the assholes on the internet hiding behind a screen or the pigs on the streets who’d follow and harass her. Sometimes she’d even imagine her punching bag was her dear old parents. Soon her anger was nearly out of control. She’d pick a fight with anyone who’d stand in her way or looked at her funny, and being undefeated didn’t encourage her to stop anytime soon. Though sure enough, she came to a point where she bit off more than she could chew. 

One time at a bar during her senior year, a guy started to chat her up to which she, at first, kindly turned down. Though as he started to get more and more persistent and touchy she stood her ground. Soon his sweet nothings turned to personal insults and she ending up getting in a full fledged fight with him. She was able to get a few punches and kicks in and cause some serious damage, but before she knew it, she was held by his crew with a gun at her temple. They took this opportunity to start wailing on her and they threw her unconscious body in the alley behind the bars.

Once again, she was the talk of the town after she was identified and hospitalized. She had 2 broken ribs, a broken leg, a concussion, and countless cuts and bruises -- nothing too severe but she’d need a lot of physical therapy and time before she could ever box again. Her parents had the decency to pay for her hospital bill but never once visited her, not wanting to start something they couldn’t finish. 

After a seemingly endless recovery period, she was able to get back in the ring. She was shaky at first, even hopeless that she’d never fight the same again, but she found a new muse. Instead of using her anger from her past fuel her fight, she motivated herself with her own growing confidence. She also managed to repeat senior year and graduate high school. 

Stevie is currently on a healthier path with her luck is starting to turn around, exchanging her infamy for fame. She’s as strong as ever, perhaps even stronger in the ring. She’s taken up a job teaching kids to box in Manhattan while living in the Bronx. She’s relatively drug free and she has more control of her anger. However, her fury does slip out if instigated enough, especially when someone she loves is threatened. 

personality:

+ traits: courageous, athletic, down-to-earth, tough, protective, realistic, resilient, fearless

- traits: aggressive, cutthroat, impulsive, ruthless, possessive, moody, short-tempered

headcannons:

80% of the time you’ll see her with a lollipop in her mouth, another reason why her nickname in the ring is sucker punch. 

also 95% of the time her hair is up, the only she really takes it down is on really cold winter days, showering, etc. 

says fight me and means it 

confident to the point of outright narcissism but also pretty self-deprecating 

I’ll add more later probably lol, like this for a plot and i cant wait to start! :)

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #23 - Combat Class

In spite of its length I didn’t feel that #22 was quite finished, so this shows Kurt’s side of the same time we spent with Adam and the Cheerios.

~*~*~*~*~

As they finished gathering  up all of the assorted hand-balls, dodge-balls, and super-balls, Kurt took the opportunity to ask something that had been bugging him for months. “How does magic-dampening work, exactly?  I mean, from what you said before it’s something that you’ve learned how to turn on and off at will, but did you always know it was there? Can you sense what other witches’ powers are and just squash a particular Talent, or is it an all-or-nothing deal?”

 Troy raised an eyebrow, using his foot to pop a stray dodge-ball up and into his hands, then trying out a jump shot as he tossed it basketball style at the container next to Dale. The young woman tossed her purple-dyed curls and flipped him off when the shot missed, bouncing off the rim of the basket and smacking her in the ass as she bent to retrieve a couple of super-balls that had rolled under a stack of practice mats.  

 “Oops, sorry!” Troy called, his sincerity not entirely winning her over considering that he was laughing at the same time.

 “Do it again, and you’re walkin’ home, Duncan! Snow be fucked,” she called back, her heavy Bronx-born cadence making the words sound far more threatening than the half-reluctant smirk on her face would indicate.

 “I’d better be careful,” Troy told Kurt with quiet amusement. “Her ex pissed her off one time and wound up spending the night in Jersey! To answer your question, my power came in a bit later than most. I was nearly eighteen, and it was a huge disappointment to me at first. My people have been witches for several generations back and we only figured out what I was because I have a set of younger twin brothers whose Potential was suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. They had just turned twelve and they were manifesting nicely, and then suddenly they couldn’t so much as close a door or will a candle to light while I was in the same room with them.”

 “Telekinetic and Thermal magic?” Kurt guessed.

 Troy nodded, tossing him a ball to pass along to Elliott, who was now standing and chatting with Dale. “Yup, though Patrick prefers to call the latter ‘Pyro-Power’. He thinks it makes him more of a bad ass, and it differentiates him from James. They’re identical, so that’s important to them both, and their power manifested in opposite directions so it makes sense.” Seeing Kurt’s questioning look, he explained, “Pat uses Thermal Conductivity, heating things up like you do, while Jamie uses Thermal Reductivity, which allows him to make things cold.”

 “Like my friend Dani,” Kurt said, delighted to realize that he and his friend had the same base power, only manifest in different ways. “I hadn’t realized it was the same.”

 “Oh, sure. Most magic is related in some way. How it manifests just depends on the individual person. That thing you do with the clothes? I’m pretty sure that’s a peculiar combination of telekinesis and a very mild transportation Talent. You don’t have enough to physically transport yourself or another person, but you are able to will one garment away and instantly replace it with another,” Troy said, grinning wickedly as he added, “A fact which I’m sure half my Combat Class, Constantine in particular, finds extremely disappointing.”

 Kurt blushed, knowing that he was probably correct. Con had made no secret of the fact that he found Kurt’s shirtless body extremely attractive when they had been competing as ‘shirts vs skins’ sparring partners last semester. “Thank God my power hadn’t fully kicked in back then, or I might have embarrassed myself pretty badly.”

 Troy let go a hearty laugh, imagining his surprised students ogling a suddenly naked classmate. “I always kept a broad dampening field in effect during those classes, for just such unexpected outbursts of power,” he chuckled. “Mine is a really rare Talent, but luckily my dad had had some exposure to magic dampening through a friend. He was able to help me find an instructor, a woman who also taught mixed martial-arts classes, who could help me learn to control my ability. She helped me in more ways than one, and it’s a good thing.  Otherwise I would have been going around being the downer in every group of witches I encountered, without even knowing why. She showed me how to recognize when I was extending power and shut it down, eventually turning it on and off at will. Forgive me a crude analogy, but it’s a lot like developing stamina in bed. When you first develop raging hormones, you get turned on by everything from bare flesh to butterflies, and a romantic partner barely has to touch you to achieve lift-off.”

 It was Kurt’s turn to laugh. “True, and as you gain more experience and self-control, you start being able to push down the urge toward completion and just enjoy taking your time getting there. So for you, magic is the same way?  You push down the passionate first response and learn to keep your emotions, and consequently your power, in check?”

 “Exactly,” he said, pleased with Kurt’s quick comprehension. “The more a magic-damper wears his or her heart on their sleeve, the harder it is to control their power. And as I developed mine more, I learned how to recognize the particular ‘beat’ of another witch’s power and either ignore or suppress it. Which turned out to be very useful when Patrick decided it would be fun to show off his Pyro-power for a girl he wanted to impress and nearly burned the house down.”

 “Oh, no,” Kurt laughed. He tried to imagine his brother Finn with thermal magic, attempting to impress Rachel in the same clumsy way he had been wont to do with his other natural talents, and winced. That would not have been pretty. “That reminds me, do you remember Rachel Berry?”

 The other man nodded. He looked around the room, eyes scanning the floor carefully for any missing rubber balls. Finding none, he gestured Kurt to get back into position. “Of course. The Winter Showcase show-off, who tried to condense four years of education into half a school year, then dumped us the minute her big Broadway dream came calling.”

 “Then dumped that the moment that television knocked on her door,” Kurt agreed ruefully.

 Troy snorted. “I hear that didn’t go so well. Wasn’t her pilot rated as the worst debut in thirty years by Variety?”

 Kurt grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

 “Pity,” he said. “Her singing talent was enormous, but compared to that ego?” He held up a super-ball and a dodge-ball side by side and whistled.

 Unable to deny that, but not wanting to speak ill of someone he had considered a very dear friend, Kurt pushed on. “My question was about her other talent. Did she know that she was like you?”

 Troy looked surprised. “I didn’t know that she was.”

 “Oh. Well, to someone with Sight, it was pretty obvious,” Kurt said, “and I don’t mean myself because I didn’t have my power yet the last time I saw Rachel. Brittany says that her aura looked like a big blank through Sight, sort of like she went invisible except for her outline. Yours is like that too, and so are several others here at this school. Christina Dupree, M’lawna Katann, Gabriel Sarasota . . . even Miss July.”

 He made an understanding noise. “Them I knew about. NYADA doesn’t just recruit for performing arts talent, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now.” Kurt nodded. “I’m a graduate student, but I actually transferred to NYADA from The New School as a sophomore, after some dance classes had led me to discover the amazing world of choreography. I was pretty confused at first, because while I flatter myself that do have talent in that area, I didn’t think it was good enough to get me a spot at the leading performing arts school on the east coast. And I was right. I met with the Dean and two of the professors and they let me in the big NYADA secret.”

 “They needed to train student-teachers who could keep their more passionate performers from blowing up the school, or cheating to get an edge over their fellow students by using magic,” Kurt said, pleased to have his long held suspicions confirmed.

 Troy laughed. “Pretty much, and since they offered me a special scholarship to come here and receive a frankly amazing education, and the chance to put all my talents to good use at the same time, who was I to turn them down? Now, I don’t know much about your friend since she never took Combat or Choreo, but she was talented as a singer and if she was a powerful enough magic-damper into the bargain, I’m not surprised any more by the number of extra chances the gossip mill claims that she received here. Like I said, it’s a rare thing.”

 “But it’s possible that she really didn’t know the true reason she was here,” Kurt concluded. Knowing Rachel as well as he had, he was not sure if she would have taken that eventual revelation as a compliment, as recognition of just another special and amazing talent, or as a grave insult, to think that anyone would believe that her singing was not enough to get her into NYADA all by itself.

 “If her folks aren’t magical, or if she had nobody to compare herself to in that way? I’d guess not,” Troy said thoughtfully. “The faculty likes to play those things close to the vest with new students until they find out what kind of person they’re dealing with, and whether they’re the type of person who could even be happy in a role like mine. I love teaching, and I fully intend to continue on here after I finish getting my Masters next year, but it ain’t the most glamorous profession.”

 Kurt had to smile at that. It was difficult to imagine the Belle of McKinley being content with letting others constantly take center stage while she offered instruction and encouragement. “Well, I’m glad you took on the job, because you’re helping me more than you know.”

 “Good!” he said cheerfully, chucking a dodge ball at Kurt so fast he almost did not see it coming. Kurt yelped and hit the deck as the projectile came for his head. “Because it’s time to get back to work. I’m pulling back the dampening field and I want to see you use your powers to actively defend yourself this time.”

 Over the next hour, he did just that. Troy proceeded to test Kurt’s defenses, launching the bouncy projectiles past his guard countless times as he struggled, with increasing frustration, to defend himself.

 They started out slowly, Troy allowing Kurt a little time and experimentation to figure out how best to employ magic as a defense. Kurt could not produce actual shields the way that Santana Lopez could, but he could ‘push’ an approaching ball away or whisk one harmlessly aside. He had done similar exercises with Santana and Brittany when they were trying to teach him how to form and toss snowballs with his magic, in lieu of the more dangerous fireballs that the girls hoped he might one day be able to produce. He had deflected more than one sneaky snowball in return, so he found that part of the lesson to be fairly simple.

 Unfortunately, Troy took his increasing confidence as a sign to speed up, and he began tossing more than one projectile at time with help from Dale, who also had telekinesis as a major Talent. “Don’t think, just react,” Troy called out calmly as Kurt struggled against a tornado of rubber balls.  

 Kurt yelped when Dale began shooting them at his feet. “What the hell!”  

 “Don’t like it? Get out of the way. If you can float, you can fly,” Troy said mercilessly, watching with a dispassionate air as Kurt attempted to obey.

 Biting back a curse, Kurt jumped and did his best to stay afloat as he continued to dodge and weave. He was not particularly good at levitating on command, particularly at high speed. At home he always centered himself and rose slowly, moving carefully and smoothly across the floorboards like he was riding a two foot tall, invisible tread-mill.  He did not use the skill very often, but he had thought he was doing well with it, and Adam, Elliott, and his parents had certainly been impressed by the ability. Of course, none of them had been throwing painful objects at him while he did it either.  As a result he bobbed and flailed clumsily in mid-air, attempting to stay aloft while continuing to shove aside the seemingly endless barrage of ammunition.

 “Swoop, Kurt. Get under and over it! The ball can’t hurt you if it can’t hit you. Pretend this is a dance. Leap, pirouette, spin . . . whatever you can to stay up and out of the way.”

 Kurt did his best to obey the instructions, but he was becoming increasingly angry. He would no sooner dive out of the way of one ball, than another would go flying past his weakening defenses and smack him in some tender spot.

 It was time to think outside the box.

 When the next volley came Kurt dove back down to the floor and rolled, avoiding a dodge-ball, and coming back to his feet in a single smooth motion. Then he reached out and clapped his hands hard, willing the hail of balls that Troy and Dale were throwing to condense, the same way he had done with the snowflakes the first day he found that he could pack a snowball without touching it.  It worked, but not quite in the way he had expected. Instead of crushing the rubber balls as he had hoped, they all shot toward each other fast and then exploded outward, bouncing off of one another and rocketing through the room in every direction.

 “Shit!” Elliott cried out as a tiny red ball tried to take his head off. He dove toward an equipment rack, transforming himself just in time to make a smaller target.

 The others had also ducked, covering their heads. As the madly jouncing balls began to lose their momentum, Troy started laughing. He approached his sweat-dripping student and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That was epic,” he said, still chuckling. “I honestly did not see that coming, which is exactly why you should put it in your arsenal. Excellent job.”

 “Thanks,” Kurt said, dropping back to sit on his haunches, hands on his thighs as he struggled to catch his breath. “But . . . I was trying . . . to crush them.”

 The other man just smiled. “Either way, it caught us off guard and forced us to stop firing at you, so I’d call it a success. Next time, we’ll go slower and let you try adding some heat while you do it. The result might be better if the material is a bit more malleable. But let’s wait until we can go outside. A couple of the greens are warded especially for outdoor magic, and the faculty would have my head if I allowed you to perfume the entire building with burning plastic and rubber. In fact, I suppressed your thermal magic after you attempted to set one of the dodge balls on fire.”

 Kurt’s eyes widened. “I did? I didn’t even notice. I’m really sorry!”

 “No harm done,” he said, unconcerned. “That’s why I teach the first and second year combat classes, and why you came to me for help. When young witches are first learning to use their powers, all sorts of interesting things can happen.”

 He nodded. “I’m still sorry. Setting things on fire wasn’t part of my defense plan.”

 Troy just smiled. “I know. Don’t feel bad. You didn’t heat up until Dale and I both started shooting at you, and I had her force you into the air. I’m impressed, Kurt.  I was curious to see what it would take to make you lose your cool, literally as well as figuratively.”

 The lingering annoyance Kurt had felt toward actions that had seemed an awful lot like bullying faded. “You pushed me to see how far I would let things go before I pushed back, didn’t you?”

 Troy nodded, tossing Kurt a bottle of water and a towel from the supply he had brought. “I did. Control of your temper is going to be vital if you go up against a wild-witch, because they use high emotions as fuel. Blaine used your power to enhance his own without you even being aware of the theft. That’s dangerous, because it means that he’s more familiar with your power signature than you are his. If you aren’t prepared to shield your emotions, you could be handing your ex-fiancé an IV line straight to your power without meaning to.”

 Taking a long refreshing pull of the cool water, Kurt mopped off his face, neck, and chest, grateful for the reprieve. He felt his skin crawl as he imagined Blaine as a bloated magical tick who had been sucking out a bit more of his life-force with every petty argument and round of tearful apologies and makeup sex. God, he felt the need for a hot shower just from thinking about it!

 “Is that why you told me to treat it like a dance?” he said suddenly. “Because having a pattern of steps to follow is easier?”

 “Mmm-hm,” he agreed, sipping some water of his own and grinning as he paused to watch his roommate. Kurt followed his gaze and laughed. Dale had retreated to one of the side benches, where she was playing a game with the still-feline Elliott, rolling a super-ball in his path as the cat let his instincts loose and raced around the practice mats batting gleefully at the tiny toy. “Stage combat is a lot like a partner dance and I’ve had you in my classes enough to know that you don’t have any problem following complex choreography. In fact, you’re a lot more focused and comfortable if you have recognizable moves to follow.”

 Kurt had to agree. “I’m learning to improvise, but I kind of hate it. When I was younger everyone made fun of my style to the point that I just avoided any kind of unstructured dancing. Not that I was clumsy or anything. Just . . . well, you know.” He gave a little shoulder shimmy in demonstration. 

 The older man grunted. As a teacher, he clearly disliked the idea of a student’s natural instincts being suppressed in that manner. “Well, we’ll just have to see if we can get you past that, because your improv is pretty damned effective. For now, I think we just need to get you more comfortable with using your assorted Talents together. If you can perform complex maneuvers while still being aware of everyone  around you and what they’re doing, you won’t ever be caught by surprise. And in offensive situations, you’ll be better able to make quick decisions about when to follow a pattern and when to improvise, just as you did a moment ago.”

 Kurt relaxed, happy to know that the past couple of hours had been moving toward a real goal, and that Troy did not seem disappointed with his first performance. He knew that he was frequently too hard on himself, but he had been unable to help being nervous that he would be declared a lost cause from the get-go. It was a relief to hear that he had real potential. “Should we try another round?”

 Troy shook his head with a smile. “No, that’s enough for today. Trust me, you’re going to be feeling this lesson in a couple of hours. For now, just do some cool-down stretches then go take a shower. Relax for the rest of today, and do some light exercise or dancing tomorrow to loosen your muscles up. Our next lesson can wait until school is officially back open. I’ll ask Con and Winston to join us for that one. They can help me show you some demonstration moves.”

 “Sounds like a plan,” Kurt agreed, holding his hand out and receiving a firm shake in return. “Thanks a lot, Troy. I owe you one. You too, Dale.”

 “My pleasure,” she said, giving her new friend a little pat and hopping to her feet. “Are we ready to go? Cool. Catch you in class on Tuesday, Kurt. Bye Elliott.”

 The cat released his long claws from around the captured ‘prey’ and abruptly transformed back into a man wearing torn jeans and a faded green Paramus High Spartans sweatshirt. He grinned and waved a hand, tossing the little ball back into the basket with the others.  “Nice meeting you.”

  “You too!  Good job, you guys,” she said, straightening her electric pink ‘Godz Monsters’ t-shirt and flipping her grape-colored tresses back over her shoulders. Addressing Troy, she said, “I need to grab some food. You want to come with, or should I drop you off at home?”

 “Home, please. I have a few things to work on while there’s a lull in the chaos.”

 She teased him about his procrastination habits and Troy teased her back about mother-henning. As he listened, Kurt found himself wondering whether Troy’s roommate might be single. She and Troy did not seem romantic toward one another, and Kurt had developed a fair instinct for such things during his time in New York. Dale and Dani had the same taste in hairdressing and music – if that shirt advertising his friend’s favorite lesbian punk band was any indication – and Dani had been single ever since her breakup with Santana. Dale seemed like a nice person and it would be good to see Dani happy with someone again. Fashion wasn’t much to go on, true, but in Kurt’s view it was always an excellent place to start. He would have to pay more attention when classes started again and see if he could gather more intel . . .

 “See you, guys,” he said with an innocent smile, giving them a hand-wave as the duo picked up their basket of ‘weapons’ and waved back, then abruptly vanished from sight. Kurt looked at Elliott and shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to watching people do that.”

 Elliott shrugged. “Guess I’m too used to it to be affected anymore. My mom and sister are Teleporters too.”

 “Are they also Familiars?” he asked, wondering why he had never thought to ask before. Tossing his used towel into the dirty laundry basket that all the practice rooms carried, Kurt picked up his discarded sweater and then plucked distastefully at the now clammy undershirt he wore. “Yuck. I need to clean up.”

 “Locker room or home?” Elliott asked.

 Kurt decided, “Locker room. It’s equipped with everything I need and they have a better hot water heater than I do. I keep a couple of spare outfits here, so I can put one of those on afterward.”

 Elliott just smiled at that because, of course he did. “To answer your question, I’m the only Animagus in my family. It’s a pretty unusual Talent, and only those of us who become cats seem to develop the instinct to form a witch/Familiar bond. It’s considered kind of an honor to have a Familiar in the family.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Among witches, it’s kind of like your kid turning out to be a prodigy of some kind.”

 He nodded. Given that he was the first openly recognized witch in his own family, Kurt was not overly familiar with the culture of magic users. All he really knew were a few things he had heard and observed when the Crawford clan had been visiting, but it felt reassuring somehow to know that witches had their own rituals and heritage, just like any other thriving culture. It made him feel like part of a larger community, and he really liked that idea.

 “Well, I’m glad it happened to you, because I’d hate it if you hadn’t happened to me,” Kurt said, giving Elliott an affectionate touch to one shoulder. He led his friend down a corridor and to a row of lockers located just inside a set of shower rooms attached to the practice wing. Going to one that was two down from the end of the last row, he quickly twirled the combination lock on its door and started to open it.

 Suddenly, with a cry of shock and pain, Kurt fell against the metal door, barely catching himself as he staggered.

 “Kurt!” Elliott cried out in alarm, catching him before he could fall any farther. “Are you okay? What’s going on? Are you sick? Should I find a doctor?”

 Clutching Elliott’s sleeve, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a hard shake to orient himself against the sudden assault of swirling emotion that had hit him out of nowhere. “No. Adam!” he gasped. “God, he’s so . . . he’s . . .”

 “What?” Elliott demanded, giving him a little shake in hopes that he would start making sense again. “Adam is what, Kurt?”

 “Scared,” he choked. Blue eyes wild and wide, Kurt met his friend’s worried gaze and ordered, “Take me to Lima. Now!”

 Not about to question the urgency in his voice, Elliott wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and tried to concentrate on Kurt’s home town. He had only been there once (technically three times) as he transported Brittany, Santana, and Tubbington between Ohio to New York the day that Adam had been rescued from the Void, but he had not had a real chance to look around. He had simply used the mental directions given him by Tubbington to find his way. Hopefully he could do the same thing with Kurt. “Try to calm down a little. Think of somewhere in Lima that you’re very familiar with,” he said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. “Somewhere safe. I’ll link with you and use that as a focus.”

 Kurt was having a hard time concentrating on anything except the waves of panic he could feel twanging down his bond with Adam like a badly tuned guitar string, but he nodded and made himself think about the safest place he knew.

 “Got it.”

 A moment later, the pair found themselves in a comfortably but modestly appointed suburban home. Elliott was not at all surprised to recognize a startled-looking Burt Hummel staring at the suddenly occupied space in front of his television set.

 Burt sprang from his easy chair and hurried toward his disheveled, wild-eyed son. “Kurt! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

 Carole ran in from the kitchen, still drying her hands on a dish towel. “Burt? Did I hear you say . . . Kurt!”  

 “Adam,” Kurt gasped again, sounding as though he were running short on air. “I felt him. Dad, he was so scared!  Something’s happened. I have to find him.”

 Though not entirely understanding what he meant, Burt Hummel had no doubt that his son was genuinely terrified. “Okay, okay we’ll find him. Where do you think he might have gone? Did someone grab him? Do you need me to book a flight to New York?”

 For a moment, Kurt was confused. Then he remembered that his father had no idea what was going on and he said, “No, he’s here. In Lima somewhere. Adam, Santana, Brittany, and L T  wanted to spy on Blaine, and everything was okay, but then suddenly it wasn’t okay, and I . . .” his voice choked off as he valiantly swallowed down a whimper. Both hands were clutching his dad’s plaid covered biceps, while Burt held his own bare arms securely beneath the elbows as if fearing that Kurt might collapse without the support.

 “It’ll be okay, son. We’ll figure this out. We should split up. Carole can take her car toward the Lima mall. I’ll grab my truck and head for that coffee shop you guys used to live at, and check all the surrounding stores. You and Elliott go toward your old school and see if they went that way. If none of us finds him in an hour, we’ll meet back here and figure out where to go next.”

 It was not the most efficient plan, but action of any kind sounded great. Adam’s initial projection of terror and confusion had calmed, but he was still nervous and little tremors of reaction still thrummed along his connection to Kurt.

 Unfortunately, Kurt found himself too keyed up to pinpoint Adam’s physical location. He knew that he should take a breath, calm down, and focus, but for the moment he could not seem to manage it. He was startled when Elliott gently pried him and his dad apart and clasped both large hands lightly around Kurt’s face, meeting his eyes squarely and breathing in slow deliberate inhales and exhales. His thumbs began to stroke feather-soft against Kurt’s temples and he continued to breathe.

 For a moment, Kurt fought against the slow deliberate relaxation technique, fearing that they were wasting time, but this was something Elliott had begun doing with him when his magic was first revealed and Kurt had been afraid he might have a nightmare and magically destroy his apartment. It was the preliminary exercise to Elliott’s yoga sessions, and Kurt found himself responding to it. He took a breath, then another, feeling some of the painful anxiety loosen its iron grip.

 “Clear your mind,” Elliott said in a slow and serene voice. “Let your muscles loosen and relax. Let your feelings flow out with every breath. Think about Adam, but don’t let the fear direct you. Feel your bond and let it lead you to him. Feel our bond, and let it guide me.”

 His thundering heartbeat began to slow. Kurt knew that only a few seconds had passed, though it had felt like hours of precious time were being lost as he forced himself to stop and focus. He took another shaky breath, let it out slowly, then said, “I feel him. He’s . . .” A puzzled expression crossed his face as he finished, “Here?”

 As if in reply, a loud thump sounded on the front porch. Before the bell could even ring, Carole had dashed for the entry and flung the door open. She dragged three wide-eyed humans and a slightly insulted looking cat inside and slammed the door behind them. “Where have you been? Where is Adam? Kurt said he was with you!”

 Before anyone could even formulate a retort or reply, Kurt had charged forward and flung his arms around the tall figure in the center. “Oh, my god,” he gasped, holding on tight. “I felt you freaking out. I was so scared that Blaine might have hurt you again. Are you okay? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

 “Probably because you haven’t stopped talking long enough to let him,” Tubbington chuckled, transforming himself into human form and giving both of the embracing lovers an amused pat. “Hey, Mrs. H!  Long time, no see. There anything to eat around here?”

 Burt planted his hands on his hips. “All right, what the hell is going on here? What is that woman doing in my house, and why is Kurt hugging her?”

 “Oh!” Brittany said, her blue eyes going wide as she was reminded that she was still holding the glamour on Adam. Lifting her hands, she flicked them as if she was turning a couple of knobs in opposite directions and suddenly the track-suited blonde woman turned into a similarly clad blond man. “I forgot.”

 Kurt’s parents both took a hard seat on the sofa, eyes wide. “Well, shit,” Burt muttered as a dancing-eyed Santana went to join them and clue the confused pair into the day’s events.

 Adam and Kurt barely even noticed the by-play. Adam was hugging Kurt just as tightly as Kurt was holding him. “I’m fine, darling” he whispered, turning his head to rest his face against Kurt’s neck and taking a deep breath that ended in a half-sobbed laugh. “How is it you came to be here, just when I needed you most?”

 “Kurt had just finished his lesson with Troy when he felt you,” Elliott answered in Kurt’s place, seeing that he was momentarily too choked up to reply. “And whatever he picked up must have been pretty intense. We high-tailed it out here as fast as we could, and Burt was about to help us organize a search party. What happened?”

 “We were walking around town when Adam spotted a giant cockroach crawling around the sheet-music store,” Santana said dryly, “and it may have creeped him out a little more than he could handle after spending two years in the cosmic roach-motel.”

 Kurt understood at once. Pulling back to look into Adam’s face, he said, “You saw Blaine.”

 Adam nodded. “And unfortunately, I proved to be less prepared for the sight than I had hoped to be.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair in an unconscious show of embarrassment. “I may have had a minor panic attack. I’m so sorry to have passed it along to you, love. I had no idea the sight of him would affect me so strongly, much less contagiously.”

 “Don’t be sorry,” Kurt said, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “I’m impressed that you got as far as you did, and your reaction is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m glad to be here. I didn’t feel right about sending you here without me as it was.”

 “And if that was a minor attack, then my estimation of your guts just went up about a hundred percent,” Santana said dryly. “Because if that was no big deal, then the shit you’ve been dealing with before this must have felt like Godzilla mistaking your head for Tokyo.”

 He flushed. “It’s down to you lot that I made it through as well as I did,” he said, giving them a grateful nod. “I had felt confident in my disguise, and certain that I was ready to do this, but when he appeared I just lost my head. If you hadn’t been with me, I don’t know what I would have done.”

 Brittany came over to them and hugged the still touching Kurt and Adam in a single gesture. “That’s why we were with you,” she said simply. “Nobody should have to face the monster under their bed without a flashlight and a baseball bat.”

 “And a good attack-cat doesn’t hurt either,” Tubbington chimed in with a wink. He punched Elliott in the arm. “Good job getting the cavalry here so quick, kid.”

 Elliott shrugged but he looked pleased by the praise from his mentor. Rubbing his fingertips over his chin, he said, “My pleasure. So, since I guess there’s no emergency should I head home and tell the others what’s going on?”

 Kurt tore his eyes away from Adam, whose face his eyes had been scanning in minute detail for signs of pain or injury, and looked at his friend. “That would be great, Elliott, thanks again.”

 “You’re not going right away, I hope,” Carole said, making a half gesture towards the kitchen. “You’ll at least stay for dinner?”

 Kurt nodded. His eyes flickered toward Santana, sitting on the sofa next to Burt and looking like she was ready to fall asleep now that the excitement was over. “We’d love to. In fact, I think we might all be better off staying the night. Is it okay for the girls to use Finn’s room tonight?”

 “No, we’ll get out of your hair, but first you need to know what actually is going on,” Santana said, leveling herself reluctantly to her feet. Even though a couple of years had passed since her friend’s death, she was still very reluctant to tread where she might not belong when it came to Finn’s mother. “We’ll just catch you up on what we found, then Britt, Tubbs, and I will head back to my folks’ place. I think my mom might actually kill us if she finds out we hit town and failed to stop by and say hello again.”

 Carole and Burt nodded, understanding that sentiment perfectly.  

 By the time the girls and both Familiars had left, Santana offering to return in the morning to fetch the boys home, the Hummels’ faces were grim. Adam had calmed quickly once he was safely back in Kurt’s presence, but the day’s stresses had left him too exhausted to do more than sit next to Kurt in a comfortable loveseat and chime in an occasional clarification.

 “What a nightmare,” Kurt sighed, running a hand over his hair and wincing at how stiff it was from the sweat that he had never gotten to wash out. He grimaced, realizing that he was also smelling less than fresh in his soiled workout clothing. In spite of the warm house and Adam’s welcome body-heat, mid January was not a good time for sitting around in thin cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt, and his exposed arms were breaking out in goosebumps. “Part of me wants to march straight over to Blaine’s house and turn him into a grease-fire before he can do any more damage, but my session with Troy proved to me that I’m not ready for a magical winner-take-all battle, and physically I’m beat. Blaine could take me out with one half-hearted punch today.”

 “Then forget about him for now,” Burt advised. “I know you want to get this over with, and save poor Sam and those other kids, but you’ve gotta pick your battles and you don’t want to give that little shit any more of an advantage than you have to.”

 Carole nodded. “I agree. In fact, I think you should wait until after the wedding. If I correctly understand how this all works, the two of you will be far more powerful together once you’re married. Won’t your choice of a special magical day give you extra defense?”

 “She’s right,” Adam said quietly. “The exchange of formal vows on a High magic day will heighten our defenses. Not to mention the, erm . . .”

 “Wedding night?” Burt said wryly when Adam paused, shooting him a slightly guilty glance. “It’s okay, you can say it. The girls clued me in on a lot of witch related stuff the day they took me Christmas shopping with them, including the build up of power associated with sex.”

 Kurt felt his face turning red. “They did?”

 He laughed. “They did, and you don’t have to look so scandalized son. You’re a grown man and you two are in love and living together. It’s not exactly a big secret that you’re doing more than catching up on your beauty sleep every night. And even if you weren’t, we are talking about a wedding night here.”

 Adam laughed, and after a moment, Kurt joined him. He still was not used to being able to talk about such things with his father.

 “Meanwhile, I think Carole and I just might be able to find it in our hearts to track down Sam and offer him his old room back,” Burt continued, jaw setting in a determined manner. “I don’t know where he might be staying nowadays, but it sounds like he could use some looking after and I don’t trust that punk not to circle back for him if his relationship with that Karofsky kid doesn’t work out.”

 Kurt relaxed a little more. He and Sam had not been close friends after Blaine had come between them, but he still felt a bond of kinship with the first straight boy who had ever treated him without prejudice. Knowing that Blaine had gone after Sam, and now David as well, because of the connection to him made Kurt’s heart ache. And it would also be good for his dad and Carole to have a young man around the house again. They were doing well on their own, but it had not been easy for either of them to go from a full house to an empty nest so quickly. “I think that’s a great idea.”

 “So do I,” Adam agreed, his tone warm. “If anyone can heal that poor boy through the medium of tender loving care, it’s the two of you.”

 Happy to have at least a plan to be doing something to help, Carole got up and went into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner for four.

 Kurt stood as well, grimacing as he put a hand on his lower back and stretched, hearing the vertebrae crunch. “I’d better go take a shower. I didn’t get a chance earlier and I’m starting to stiffen up.” He hesitated, looking between his dad and Adam.

 Burt seemed to understand his reluctance to let Adam out of his sight after the fright they had shared. Rising from his own chair, he squeezed Adam’s shoulder and said, “C’mon with me, son. Carole just keeps a couple of quilts on Kurt’s old bed so it looks presentable. I’ll grab you some sheets, and maybe see if I can find something a little more your style than Sylvester’s track suit. Kurt’s room is upstairs and down the hall, right next door to the bathroom. You can’t miss it.”

 The unspoken inference that he would turn a blind eye should Adam wish to join Kurt in that place was not missed by either young man. Apparently Burt was taking his recent promise to treat Kurt like an adult seriously. Kurt gave the man a quick embrace, then kissed Adam’s cheek and ran upstairs.

 THE END