bethynycfics2: (Kurt Blaine Kiss)
[personal profile] bethynycfics2
Title: The Coven
Rating: PG
Characters: very beginnings of a Kurt/Blaine relationship, Santana, Tina
Fandom: Glee
Spoilers: n/a
Warnings: mention of suicide attempts, bullying,
Word Count: 1948
Summary: This is my way of fixing The Craft, which I liked until they turned on each other.
Beta: [ profile] wesleysgirl who is wonderful! California-picked by [ profile] tesserae_ who is also wonderful!
Author’s Note: Written for the AU Magic square for Trope Bingo

“We need,” stated Tina, “our fourth.” The three sat around a large flat stone in the most secluded corner of Blaine’s gigantic back yard. The oak trees that surrounded the natural dip in the land granted privacy from the house and the few distant neighbors. It was the perfect place for them to practice.

She glared at unconvinced Santana across the candle-lit altar. “We do. You know we do.”

Santana made a face, and looked over at Blaine, who was running his fingers through a candle flame. “What do you think, Blanderson?”

“Don’t call me that, Santana.” Blaine said calmly. “And I agree with Tina. We have fire, earth, water. We need air to balance us out, make us complete.” He pulled at his collar, running a finger along the burn scars on his neck, then pushed his hair back out of his eyes. The long curls flopped back almost instantly.

Santana sighed heavily. “Fine. Whatever. So genius, how do we find our fourth?”

Tina’s eyes met Blaine’s and they both smiled. “We ask the Goddess.”

A rush of wind blew through the trees.


Kurt stared out the airplane window at the clouds. If he half-shut his eyes, he almost could see air sprites dancing on the wing. One waved cheerfully to him and he looked away. It was just his imagination. It wasn’t real.

His father slept in the seat beside him, and Kurt was overcome by a rush of love. His father had given everything up, sold his business and bought another in Berkeley, California so that Kurt would have a safe place to live. Where he wouldn’t be bullied. Where maybe he would find some friends, real friends, not imaginary ones like he'd had as a child.

If only the hallucinations would stop.

He looked out the window again, and the sprite looked sad. It waved again, slowly, and slid off the wing into the slipstream of the plane.

Kurt closed the window.


“You don’t have to go, you know. You can wait until next week, or until we have all your clothes unpacked.”

Kurt smiled weakly at his dad. “No, I really should go. No point in putting it off.”

Burt pushed his cap up and rubbed his forehead. “All right then. Your choice. At least it’s still close to the start of the year, you won’t have missed too much.”

Kurt peeked at him over his coffee cup. “Besides, I somehow got into the arts magnet school. Wonder how that happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Burt opened up his newspaper. “I picked the closest school.”

Kurt picked up his messenger bag and leaned over to hug his father. “Thanks, dad.”

“Call me if you’re going to stay late.”


There was a new kid in French class. Blaine noticed him right away. For one, he was much more fluent than the rest of the class. Second, he was dressed really well, and in a school where putting on a polo shirt was dressing up, he stood out with a designer printed button down, skinny jeans, and white Doc Martens. He was even wearing a bow tie.

Blaine kind of wanted to wear a bow tie. But that would mean exposing his scars and no. Just no.

But third, and most important, he had balanced a fountain pen on the tip, and it was perfectly balanced. Blaine’s eyes widened as he saw the pen rotate slowly, grinding into the desk. He couldn’t help it, he caught his breath suddenly. The boy looked up at him and the pen fell over and rolled off the desk.

His eyes were the most beautiful eyes Blaine had ever seen.


“You guys, he’s here,” Blaine hissed at Santana and Tina in their chemistry class.

“Who, Santa Claus? I’ve told you over and over, Blaine, it’s your parents.” Santana sneered.

“Bitch. No, our fourth. Our air quarter.”

Tina leaned across the table in front of Santana. “Really? Who?”

“This new guy. He’s in my French class.” Blaine glanced up at the front of the class, where the new guy was talking to the teacher. “He’s here!”

Santana squinted. “Who, Marc Jacobs shirt?”

“He’s kinda cute,” commented Tina, “and those are great boots.”

Sitting back in her chair, Santana crossed her arms. “Gay.”

“You think?” asked Blaine.

“I have impeccable gaydar.” Santana looked at Blaine sideways and smiled. “Interested?”

Blaine was saved from answering by the new guy coming up to their table. “Hi, um, the teacher said to find a group? And your table is the only one with a free chair, so may I join you?”

His voice was amazing. Blaine opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Frantically, he looked at the girls, but Santana was giving the new kid her Bitch Queen stare and Tina wasn’t saying anything. He swallowed, and just as a wary look crept into his eyes.

“Sit!” and his voice cracked and he cringed. “Please,” Blaine said, a little softer. “Sit with us.”

With a roll of her eyes, Santana jumped in. “Oh God, not the puppy eyes. You better sit, new kid, before Blainers turns them up to eleven.”

Blaine shot a death glare at her, but the new kid barked a short laugh and sat next to Blaine. He held out his hand. “My name’s Kurt.”

“Blaine.” He jerked his head at the other two. “Santana’s the bitch in the middle, Tina’s the giggler on the end.”

Tina leaned forward, having quelled her giggles. “Sorry. Nice to meet you, Kurt. And don’t mind Santana, she’s like that to everyone.”

“Oh, ha ha ha, you should take that comedy act on the road.”

The teacher called the class to order, and Blaine bit his lip to keep from laughing more. He peeked sideways at Kurt, who wrote something in his notebook and pushed it for him to see.

You were in French this morning?

Blaine wrote back: Yeah. I noticed you.

Kurt: Is that good or bad?

Blaine: Good. You are really good at French.

As soon as he wrote it and passed it back, he dropped his face in his hands. Kurt looked at him, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement.

Kurt: I assume you mean the language.

Blaine: Yes, the language. Sorry, I’m kind of incoherent.

Kurt: Not if you’re using four syllable SAT words.

Blaine felt a sharp dig in his ribs, and sat up to pay attention to the teacher’s lecture.


Kurt liked the little flirtation. Blaine was cute when he wasn’t hiding behind the long curls and the oversized black coat. There was something about him that felt like kin, that he knew what it was like to be bullied. He twitched his cuffs a little closer to his hands.

Tina seemed nice, and there had to be something redeeming about Santana for the other two to hang around with her.

He was at a school with no jocks, in a town that was a suburb of San Francisco (Gay Mecca!) and he might have a new friend.

Best of all, he hadn’t had any hallucinations since the plane.


It turned out that Blaine was in study hall with Kurt during the next period, and gave him the rundown on the school. As an arts magnet school with a strictly enforced code of conduct, it was a haven for many of the bullied and artistic kids in the district. Though not perfect, it was still better than the huge warehouse high school that most of the public school kids attended.

Kurt shuffled through his notebooks to find his schedule and knocked his sketchbook to the floor. When he stretched out to pick it up, Blaine was right there and saw the inside of his wrist.

“Is that what I think it is?” Blaine whispered.

Kurt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Blaine reached out and turned his hand over, exposing the scar on Kurt’s wrist. “You did it the right way, too.” He let go of Kurt’s hand and met his eyes. “Bullies?”

Kurt nodded again. “One in particular just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I thought about it, after my…thing.” Blaine pushed his coat a little to the side, and Kurt could see the angry burn scars on his neck. “But I didn’t have the courage.”

“I think it takes more courage not to,” Kurt replied.


After school, the four planned to stop at a coffee shop nearby. As they were walking, Blaine caught sight of a crowd of blue and gold jackets. He tensed and hunched into his coat. Santana and Tina lifted their heads and narrowed their eyes at the crowd of jocks.

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand. “Come on.” The girls followed, and they slipped down a side street.

Tina glanced back. “They’re following.”

“Shit,” commented Santana. “This way.” They ducked between two buildings, walking faster and faster until they were jogging. They turned, and turned again, until they were blocked by a chain link fence.

“This wasn’t here before,” said Tina, fear coloring her voice.

“Who are those guys?” Kurt asked. Blaine shivered and held his hand even more tightly. His eyes were wide with fear, and Kurt could hear him muttering something.

Santana sounded angry. “The assholes who beat up Blaine and set him on fire.”

Blaine was muttering louder, and Tina had joined him. “Let them pass by, let them not see. Let them pass by, let them not see. Let them pass by, let them not see.” Kurt was still holding Blaine’s hand, and Santana grabbed his hand and Tina’s as well.

“Say it!” she whispered, and started chanting herself. Tina and Blaine both had their eyes closed, while Santana watched the lane. Kurt could hear the voices of the jocks drawing closer, and joined in.

“Let them pass by, let them not see. Let them pass by, let them not see. Let them pass by, let them not see.” The four held hands, Santana and Kurt and Blaine and Tina, forming a ring in a corner made by the building and the chain link fence.

A rush of wind swirled around them, scattering discarded newspapers and old leaves. Kurt could feel something surging through him, through all of them. It felt amazing and completely right.

The pack of jocks stopped at the end of the lane and looked in the direction. “Not there,” one said, “I bet they went through that Laundromat.” The gang turned and went back the way they came.

The four held their collective breath until the sound of the jock’s voices had faded away. Blaine looked at the others. “It worked, it finally worked!” He hugged Kurt tightly. “That’s the first time that spell worked, and it’s because of you!”

Stunned, Kurt hugged him back, before both of them were tackle-hugged by Santana and Tina who were equally elated. “What do you mean, spell?”

“That little chant, it’s an invisibility spell. We could never get it to work,” explained Tina.

Santana smirked. “Though that was the first time we really needed it to work. We were just hiding from your mom before.”

Kurt felt a warm puff of breath next to his ear. “Thank you,” whispered Blaine.

He smiled and whispered back. “You’re welcome.” When Kurt pulled back a little, his gaze met Blaine’s warm hazel eyes. He didn’t want to look away; there was something compelling, something enticing about those eyes.

A tiny breeze zipped around the four, and for a moment, Kurt thought he could smell his mother’s perfume.
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