Title of Blog

And if you liked the fic… tell me. I’ll write more. Probably.

I wrote a fic. A Klaine fic involving FTM!Kurt. I couldn’t resist. And I apologize in advance because this was all written in one sitting, all done on a whim.

So here goes.

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Title: Sweaters

Rating: G

Pairing: Klaine

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            Kurt Hummel was in crisis. It wasn’t like he had an earth-shattering problem or anything, but to him, this situation was the equivalent of having to burrow underground in order to avoid the nuclear warfare he knew would be coming. He had no clean sweatshirts. No sweaters, no vests, no jackets… he had fallen behind on his laundry in his quest to wear a completely different outfit to school every day, and now there was not a single item in his extensive wardrobe that could hide the unnecessary mounds of flesh that hung limp from his chest. Not one.

            He couldn’t go out. That would be suicide. All of McKinley High knew Kurt as, well, Kurt. If he were to come into school wearing a binder, but nothing to hide what the binder failed to compress… he didn’t want to think of the backlash. No one knew him from before, when he was Katherine.

            Ugh. Katherine. Kurt shuddered at the name that had been bestowed upon his tiny effeminate body at birth. He didn’t blame anyone for it – people only saw skin-deep before they really got to know you anyway – but he did wish that certain people would respect him for who he was and, at the very least, call him Kurt.

            Burt Hummel was a fairly understanding man and had been okay with it when his child had told him he wanted to wear clothes from the men’s department. He figured it was a fashion statement of some sort. He never understood women that way. And when she’d wanted to cut her hair short, he figured the same. But when his daughter had told him that she was actually a ‘he’… it hadn’t gone the way Kurt had hoped. Occasionally, Burt would humor his child and refer to him in a more masculine manner, calling him “Kurt,” but that was only when things were really bad. Those were the days when Kurt found it hard to just get out of bed because he didn’t want to catch a glimpse of his naked body as he got dressed for school. They were the days when Kurt felt completely alone in the world – when he felt like he would never be loved by anyone, and when he felt like a freak or a monster or some horrible creature – and, like any loving father, Burt wanted to do anything he could to help his child through the pain.

            But then there were the okay days when things would revert to how they once were for Burt, back to when he still had a daughter who liked to have tea parties with her father, because who else would have them with Katherine when the poor girl’s mother was dead?

            Kurt pulled anxiously at his chest binder, pushing and prodding the blobs of feminine tissue underneath, trying to get them to compress completely. It was an impossible task, though. The rounded growths of fat and mammary glands, which Kurt referred to with revulsion as his “tumors” (because, indeed, they felt like cancerous growths, killing him maybe not physically, but certainly on an emotional level), would not lie completely flat.

            Kurt slumped to the floor. He didn’t have much time to process anything though, because there was a knock on his door.

            “I’ll be out in a minute, dad,” Kurt said, wiping a tear from his eye. If there was anything he hated more than seeing the mountains on his chest, it was actually having to touch them. It just validated their existence, which he did not want to do.

            “I thought ‘dad’ was generally a term reserved for the older one in the relationship, Kurt,” came a voice through the door. Kurt perked up immediately. He’d completely forgotten that Blaine had promised to walk to school with him today.

            “Blaine!” he chirped excitedly as Blaine walked through the door.

            Blaine Anderson was the only one who knew about Kurt aside from his father, and Finn Hudson, his brother-in-law. And Finn’s mother, of course. They had been seeing each other romantically for about five months now and he was the only one who Kurt felt didn’t see him as partially “Katherine.” To Blaine, Kurt was just that: Kurt. His boyfriend. And, while Kurt wasn’t exactly like other boys, he was still a boy, and that’s all that mattered to Blaine.

            But Kurt was still uncomfortable with anyone, including Blaine, seeing his half-naked body. As soon as Blaine was completely through the door, Kurt threw his arms around his own torso and turned away from his boyfriend.

            “Please… don’t look,” Kurt pleaded, resting the side of his head against the foot of his bed as he hid from Blaine the one thing he hated most about himself.

            “I won’t look. I promise,” Blaine replied, and faced the window. “But it’s really hard not to look at you, you know. You’re so cute, so pick out something to wear already, because I want to be allowed to look at my boyfriend.”

            Kurt felt his face turn a rosy color. “I don’t have anything to put on to hide… them.”

            Blaine turned to face Kurt, seeing him at his most exposed and he felt his heart drop like a stone. Kurt was sitting there in a pile of clothes, only dressed in boxer briefs and his chest binder, his nose red from crying.

            Blaine got down on his knees and reached out for Kurt, pulling the boy into a warm embrace, which Kurt fell into limply at first, then hugged back.

            “Why is it that the only time I feel like a real boy is when I’m in your arms?” Kurt asked quietly, nuzzling his face into Blaine’s neck. Blaine smiled sadly.

            “I don’t know. You should feel like a real boy all the time, because you ARE a real boy. You’re MY boy.”

            Kurt nodded and graciously received a soft kiss on his lips from Blaine before slipping a t-shirt on.

            “Here,” Blaine said, helping Kurt up off the floor. He unzipped and slipped out of his sweater, then draped it over Kurt’s shoulders. “It seems you need it more than I do.”

            “No! Blaine! It’s ten degrees outside! You’ll freeze.”

            “I’ll be fine. Take it. I’d rather be cold walking to school with you than warm and walking alone,” Blaine insisted, kissing Kurt once more. And for the first time in a long time, Kurt Hummel knew: everything was going to be okay.