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on golden sands

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If Kurt is wrong and there actually is an afterlife, some eternal resting place for the righteous and devout…well, he probably wouldn’t make it in. But if he did, he can only imagine that his blissful eternity would look exactly like his present: curled together in his bed with the man he loves, trading kisses and sweet, tender touches that set his skin alight.

They don’t do more than that, despite what Sue and Santana must be imagining. He’s given Blaine a pair of loose sleep trousers to wear and changed into the same himself, so they are at least maintaining some flimsy façade of modesty. It’s certainly not for lack of desire: Kurt has been half-hard since they lay down together, and it would take embarrassingly little to rouse him to full readiness. He thinks that Blaine feels similarly – can see that he feels similarly, sometimes, which makes his heart race – but he doubts that Blaine has the same understanding of arousal and lovemaking as a human would, and that’s not a conversation he particularly wants to stumble through tonight. For now, it’s enough to lie here with Blaine in his arms, together, the way they were always meant to be.

In any case, it doesn’t really matter what they do or don’t do. As far as Kurt is concerned, they’re as good as wed, which means they can go at whatever pace they please, whether that entails waiting until their wedding night or ravishing each other tomorrow morning.

All right, so technically he hasn’t asked Blaine to marry him, but it seems like a rather foregone conclusion at this point. There’s not much room for ambiguity after your intended has openly admitted to selling his soul for the chance to be with you.

The very idea makes Kurt’s skin crawl. If Sue hadn’t arrived when she did, and the sorcerer had succeeded in dragging Blaine back into the sea –

Kurt shudders, unable to complete the thought even in his own mind. The horror of that narrowly-escaped fate will stay with him for a long, long time.

He keeps Blaine close to comfort them both, and because he can’t imagine doing anything else. He hopes Blaine has no objection to sleeping, eating, bathing, and possibly attending Council meetings together, because Kurt has no intention of being apart from him for even a moment any time soon.

Kurt has spent the better part of eleven years waiting for this reunion. Ten thousand Dharamese soldiers couldn’t tear Blaine away from him now.

Besides, he’ll need at least a solid week just to look his fill. He’s always known Llyr was handsome, but he never knew Llyr was Blaine. He has a good deal of guilt-free admiring to catch up on.

Through purpose or chance, Sue’s transformation has left Blaine with all the best parts of both forms. There are his legs, of course, shapely and muscular, though Blaine complains good-naturedly that they’re not half as powerful as his tail.

“Better at dancing, though,” Kurt says, drawing an appreciative hand up the side of Blaine’s thigh. He likes Blaine’s legs very much indeed. He has plans for these legs.

Blaine looks pleased. “Am I any good? Britt said you like to dance. I want to be able to dance with you.”

Just when Kurt thinks he can’t possibly love Blaine more, he has to go and say something like that. “You’re wonderful,” he says honestly, thinking of the day – was it really only yesterday? – that he saw Blaine dancing with Britt in the courtyard, graceful and happy, full of life. “We’ll dance all night at our wedding, I promise. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Blaine’s teeth are flat and human again, which Kurt is thankful for. As charming as he found those pointy kitten teeth, they added a certain degree of peril to kissing. And he intends to indulge in a lot of kissing.

Blaine’s eyes are still their natural gold, the one remaining hint of his origins. Kurt thought Llyr’s dark eyes were lovely, but they could never compare to the real thing. He still remembers the shock of seeing his little sea monster’s eyes for the first time, round and glittering in the candlelight. To finally see them again, molten-bright behind the sweep of those long, thick lashes – it’s almost more than Kurt can bear.

And his voice – oh. Kurt adored him as a mute, would have spent his whole life with him and thought himself the luckiest man in the world, but he has loved that voice since the first moment he heard it. His heart still flutters every time Blaine says his name; he imagines it always will.

He doesn’t know if Blaine will be able to sing as he did before – it seems likely that it’s one of the sea people’s powers, gone forever like his tail and gills – but he finds that he’s not as heartbroken about the possibility as he might have expected. They are together, and in love. The song has done its work.

More prosaically, it is wonderful to simply be able to talk together. Kurt has been rambling for months now, but Blaine could never return the favor, relying on his face and gestures to do the speaking for him. It feels almost luxurious to be able to hold a real conversation, to ask Blaine questions and receive a full answer, to banter with him and finally hear his warm, squeaky laughter.

Kurt’s first question is one that’s been needling him for hours. “Blaine…why didn’t you ever try to tell me who you really were?” He keeps his tone gentle, not wanting to sound accusatory, but really. “All those months, you never gave me the slightest sign. Even without words, surely you could have gotten the point across somehow.”

“The deal,” Blaine says grimly. “That’s the whole reason he took my voice. I had to win you on my own merits, so to speak. I wasn’t allowed to even hint at our history, or the deal was forfeit.” His lips quirk up at the corner. “Though I think I’d have risked it if I’d known I was competing against myself.”

Kurt shakes his head, amazed at his own idiocy. “You can’t imagine what an impossible choice it was. I wanted you both so desperately.” He tugs at one of Blaine’s curls. “You’re clearly far too lovable for your own good.”

“So it would seem,” Blaine says, with a delightful hint of cheek that earns him a good long kiss in reward.

“You know,” he adds a while later, rather breathlessly, “it’s really Sue you ought to be asking that question. If she knew what was going on this whole time, why didn’t she tell you?”

“You’re right,” Kurt says slowly, considering. He draws his thumb across Blaine’s palm, along the thin white scar where the cut healed over at some point during Sue’s first spell. “For all her talk of protecting me, she was happy enough to let the whole thing play out until the bitter end. She even went off to Kalkania and just left us here. If she hadn’t made it back in time…”

“Maybe she was respecting the rules of the deal, like I was,” Blaine suggests uncertainly.

“Doubtful,” Kurt says. “Sue doesn’t follow anyone’s rules but her own, and not even those consistently. No, my guess is that she just found it amusing to watch us suffer.” He shrugs. “She’s always been unpredictable. Lunatics usually are.”

“Now, Kurt,” Blaine says, a flicker of mischief in his eyes, “is that any way to talk about family?”

Kurt groans and throws himself moodily back against the pillows. “I can’t believe it. I share blood with that woman.” He tugs Blaine down against him, consoling himself with Blaine’s warm weight and plush lips. “Of course, that makes her your family now, too, you realize.”

Blaine nuzzles their noses together. “I suppose that means I’m in for a lifetime of demeaning nicknames. I’m not sure she knows my actual name.”

“You get used to it,” Kurt says resignedly. “Speaking of names, what should I call you? I’ve been thinking of you as Blaine for years, but that’s no more your name than Llyr is, really. What do you prefer? One of those, or something else? Not your real name – we both know I can’t say that.”

Blaine laughs. “You can call me whatever you like. I don’t mind.” He trails a fingertip over Kurt’s lips, lightly tracing their shape. “It might be easiest for most people to keep calling me Llyr. But I like Blaine. That’s the name you gave me.”

Kurt nips at Blaine’s finger. “You chose it.”

“You gave me the choice,” Blaine counters.

“Mmm, true enough. Blaine it is, then.” Kurt confirms the decision with a deep kiss, reveling in the sweetness of Blaine’s mouth. He doesn’t draw back after, but stays close, peppering tiny kisses over Blaine’s chin, his jaw, his cheek, the delicate skin below his eye. “My Blaine.”


As wonderful as all the kissing is – and it is, it really is, Kurt is kicking himself for not having pounced on this man three months ago – he still has so many questions, and Blaine is finally able to answer them. All things considered, Kurt really knows much less about Blaine than Blaine knows about him, so it only seems fair for him to make up some ground tonight. Blaine answers all his questions patiently, unraveling the mystery that has surrounded him all this time.

To Kurt’s surprise, Blaine isn’t royalty himself, though he does come from a prominent family in a city Kurt can’t even hope to pronounce.

“I’ve landed myself a commoner,” Kurt muses, tracing mindless patterns over the wondrously smooth skin between Blaine’s shoulder blades.

“Planning to trade me in for someone better suited to your esteemed position?” Blaine inquires, lazily confident in a way that is nearly as arousing as the wet, open-mouthed kisses he’s been lavishing over Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt sinks his fingers into Blaine’s hair and sighs with pleasure. “If you think I’m ever letting you out of my sight again, you’re deranged.”

Blaine presses his smiling lips to Kurt’s collarbone, the hollow of his throat, the underside of his jaw, and that’s the end of conversation for a while.


Some time later, Kurt tries again. “So your city…”

Blaine repeats the name, a pretty but incomprehensible tumble of syllables.

“Right, that one,” Kurt says, and ignores Blaine’s smirk. “Is that near where Riggs found you?”

“Very near,” Blaine says. “Less than a morning’s swim, for a child. Hardly the farthest I’d ventured outside the city, though a great deal closer to the surface than I was meant to go.”

“Were you able to find your way home after you escaped? I used to worry that you were lost down there.”

Blaine cups Kurt’s cheek in his hand, gazing down at him with those captivating eyes. “My home had already left,” he says softly, and Kurt’s chest aches so badly that he has to pull Blaine down and kiss him until he can breathe again.

“But, yes,” Blaine continues afterward, “I did make it back to my parents’ house, though it took me several days. Fortunately, I came across a family of – ” and here again he says something pretty and mysterious.

“What are those?”

Blaine frowns a little. “I don’t know the common word, but you must be familiar with them. You have them here, too, not too far off the coast. If it weren’t for their help, I’d never have made it to shore after I was transformed.”

“What do they look like?”

“Like big gray fish, but they come to the surface to breathe. More like whales, I suppose. But smaller.”

“Oh, porpoises.” Kurt thinks about this for a moment. “Can you really talk with them?”

“Of course. Not in words, like this, but there are other ways to communicate.”

“You are a master of pantomime,” Kurt says with a smile. “That reminds me: how did you come to speak the common tongue? I’ve always wondered.”

Blaine laughs at him. “Everyone speaks the common tongue. That’s why it’s the common tongue.” He cards his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “I learned it from my parents, the same as you.”

“But how did they learn it? Your ancestors must have had contact with humans at some point, though believe me when I say that nothing was ever written about it.”

“How do you know your people didn’t learn it from us?” Blaine retorts, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You humans think you invented everything. You’d claim the sea and sky if you could.”

“You’re one of us now, darling, so you’d better get used to it.” Kurt rolls them over and presses Blaine down into the mattress, inspired to do some claiming of his own.

If Blaine’s eager response is any indication, he’s taking to humanity very well indeed.


They talk and kiss and talk some more, until their lips are bruised and their throats are scratchy. Kurt knows they ought to sleep – he has no doubt there will be councilors banging down the door first thing in the morning, Sue first among them – but he can’t bring himself to suggest it. He wants more, always more, as much as Blaine will give him: another kiss, another smile, another story or offhand comment to shape his understanding of who Blaine really is.

Blaine has an older brother, a self-important blowhard with delusions of grandeur, but a good man in his own way.

He doesn’t eat eel because he kept one as a pet when he was a child.

His recent illness really was his first ever, just as Britt guessed, and he is dismayed to be told that similar ailments are not uncommon among humans.

He understands what venison is now, but he still thinks fish tastes better.

He once walked in on Santana and Britt making love, only it took him so long to realize what was happening that they spotted him, and Santana chased him from the room, nude and shouting. He flushes scarlet at the memory, hiding his face in his hands as Kurt laughs to the point of tears.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kurt says, when he finally catches his breath. He tugs Blaine’s hands away and kisses his hot cheeks. “She must have been furious.”

“I went straight to the library to find you. I was hoping you’d stop her from putting a sword through me,” Blaine admits.

“She wouldn’t,” Kurt says, though he is secretly very pleased with the idea of Blaine seeking him out for protection. “She likes you too much.”

Blaine looks skeptical. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who keeps a dagger in her hair.”

“Is that where she pulled that from?” Santana has been known to make threatening references to the various weaponry she has hidden about her person at any given time, but Kurt always assumed she was bluffing. “Well, it was lucky for us that she did. I don’t know if anyone else could have managed to get the pendant off that bastard.”

Blaine’s face darkens at the mention of the pendant. He lays his head down on Kurt’s shoulder and sighs. “I can’t believe it’s broken,” he says regretfully. “You know I never took it off? Just once, a few years ago, when I had to repair the cord. But other than that, never. Not until the sorcerer demanded it as payment.” His mouth tightens. “If I hadn’t been doing it for you, I would never have given it to him.”

“You did what you had to,” Kurt reassures him. “And it was worth it, wasn’t it? We’re together now. I’d say it was a fair trade in the end.”

“I know,” Blaine says, still sounding gloomy. “I’m being silly, I know that. It’s just – for so long, that necklace was my only connection to you. It was everything to me.” He shivers. “Losing it was horrible. I felt so exposed without it. So…so…oh, what’s the word?”

“Naked?” Kurt offers, and Blaine makes a noise of agreement. Despite the topic, Kurt can’t help but smirk. “You were quite naked when you appeared, I’m told. The whole palace was talking about it for days. No one could work out how a drowning man had managed to lose his clothes.” He strokes down Blaine’s bare spine. “Little did I know it would become a habit.”

“It’s not my fault you’re all so ashamed of your bodies,” Blaine says loftily.

“Trust me, my love, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Kurt dares to slip a hand down to Blaine’s glorious backside for a gentle, encouraging squeeze over his trousers. “But I’m a jealous man, I’m afraid. I want you all to myself.”

Blaine smiles, a welcome sight after his brief spell of melancholy. “I think that can be arranged.”


Exhaustion is catching up with them both, finally. Blaine’s eyes have gone soft and dreamy, and his body is lax against Kurt’s, heavy with approaching sleep. Their kisses are slower now, lazy blind presses of lips, their heads resting on the same pillow.

“Thank you,” Kurt murmurs.

Blaine blinks at him curiously, a silent question Kurt can read perfectly well.

“For everything. Finding me. Finding a way for us to be together. Leaving behind your whole world to come to mine.” He raises a tired hand to touch Blaine’s cheek, framing one side of that handsome, open face. “For not giving up on me.”

Blaine threads his fingers through Kurt’s, folding their scarred hands together. He kisses Kurt’s knuckles one by one, delicate little fleeting brushes of his lips.

He doesn’t reply in words. Kurt doesn’t need him to.


He dreams of Blaine, walking beside him in the corridor, trying to wheedle him into taking the pretty little cake he’s offering. Laughing as the whipped cream smears the tip of Kurt’s nose.

He dreams of Blaine, flushed and giddy as they spin around a crowded plaza together, swept up in the joyous rhythm of the dance.

He dreams of Blaine, sleek and beautiful in his bed, pliant beneath him. Holding Kurt close in the safe, tight circle of his arms.

He dreams of Blaine, and wakes to find him fast asleep on his chest, breathing slow and even, a faint warmth over Kurt’s heart. His face is slack and peaceful, half-hidden behind the riotous mess of his curls. One hand is still wrapped up with Kurt’s, their fingers twined together in a loose tangle.

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand, closes his eyes with a satisfied hum, and goes back to sleep.