Chapter Text
After nine and a half months of working in the brothel, Blaine was starting to adjust to coming back both tired and sore. He came back from a particularly rough encounter feeling downright achy. It irritated him, but it was definitely nothing special. He sat down on the couch in the middle of the common area and noticed Brittany across the way. She had quickly become one of his best friends in the place. "Brittany!" he called, with a bright smile. She saw him, turned and instantly came over.
"Hi Blaine," she said, sitting down next to him. "How are ya doing?"
He shrugged his shoulders and quickly found that wasn't such a good idea. He was stiff. "Sore," he mumbled, shrugging a couple of times to try and relieve the tension there. "I had a really rough one. Well, it wasn't so bad but there were ropes and it was rough and I'm achy."
"Turn around," she instructed in a sweet, mothering tone. Blaine did what he was told, turning himself around so that she could help him out. She very carefully started to rub and massage his sore shoulders. "Oh Blaine, you really have tense shoulders. Just relax. I'm really good at giving massages."
He groaned as she started rubbing near his neck, where it hurt the most. "God Brittany, you've got skills," he positively moaned as she rubbed over his neck and shoulders. "Higher, please."
When Brittany finished, Blaine felt much looser and much more comfortable. He turned back towards her and kissed her cheek in gratitude. "Thank you Britt," he said, cuddling up into her side. It was still weird to him how much platonic cuddling went down in the brothel, as well as how much not-so-platonic sex went down, but Brittany had quickly became his favorite person besides Kurt to cuddle with. "Do you know when Kurt went out on his last job?"
"About an hour or so ago," Brittany said thoughtfully, leaning into his side.
"Britt!"
Santana came into the common area from the upstairs lobby sobbing. She was shaking. Brittany immediately jumped up from Quinn's side and rushed to her aide. "Santana," she said, wrapping her arms around the trembling and sobbing girl. "What happened? Where have you been today? You weren't on any job and then when I came back you were gone…"
"I w-was in the lobby," she sobbed out, shaking her head and rocking back and forth. "Quinn is dead!"
That got Blaine's attention. Santana was a fairly emotional girl and he had come across her sobbing many times. He wasn't that close to Quinn but she was the second newest member of the brothel, coming only shortly before he did. "Santana, what's going on?" he asked, standing up. "How did she die? What's going on?" He was panicked with the death so very close to them. "I don't understand."
"I was out front with him and a new prospective client," she whispered, shivering. Brittany cooed gently and kept holding her, trying to comfort her. "He was showing us off and trying to tempt him with the idea of a lesbian thing. All of a sudden these people charged the lobby. It was a total riot. There were g-guns and everything. Quinn saw the opportunity to try and escape. She ran."
Blaine stared with wide eyes. He ran to Santana's side and wrapped his arms around the girl's other side. "Santana," he soothed. "Breathe okay?"
"He locked everything," she whispered. "He's gone into his office and led the few of us that were upstairs down here. There's so much political stuff. Turmoil. I don't know. These kind of places. Quinn. I don't – I don't know!"
He didn't understand much of what Santana was saying but amidst all of her babbling and the sudden news of the death of one of their own, Blaine came to a conclusion. The world was in some kind of dark political turmoil and there was a chance. Quinn saw it, took it and failed. She was gone. There were still chances, so many chances.
Kurt came back from his job just then. "What's going on?" he asked, seeing the commotion. Santana was sobbing too hard to get out a straight answer. "Guys, I just sent my latest home. What the hell is going on?"
"Quinn's dead," Brittany blurted out. Blaine looked up at his beloved Kurt just in time to see his face crumble. He dropped down and Blaine left Santana's side to catch him. He grabbed Kurt and held onto him tightly. Kurt and the beautiful Quinn were closer.
"No..." he moaned. "How?"
Blaine kept his grip on Kurt and held on tightly. "They said there was commotion upstairs," Blaine whispered. "Some kind of riot. She made a break for it and ran. She was killed there." Kurt shook his head, sobbing and holding onto Blaine for dear life. Blaine rubbed his back and kissed his forehead. He didn't know what to do. He clung back.
"Britt, can you take Santana to go lay down?" he asked the blonde. She nodded slowly, before turning to leave. Blaine did the same, calmly taking Kurt to their shared sleeping quarters in the dormitories.
He laid Kurt down. Kurt looked at him with horror in his beautiful eyes. He shook his head, sobbing when he tried to speak. Blaine found himself horrifically captivated by the tears in his beloved's eyes. "I don't understand Blaine," he whispered, his eyes big. "Quinn was okay…Finn was the one who trained her, right before I trained you. She was okay. Why would she even try that?"
He wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him tight. He spooned against him, wrapping one leg around his leg too, leaning into his shoulder. "I guess the opportunity to be free was something that Quinn couldn't pass up," he whispered. He didn't want to say it, because he loved Kurt and appreciated his family so much, but he would die to taste freedom again as well. He would die to love Kurt in a free place.
"I just don't understand," Kurt sobbed a little bit. Blaine rubbed his arms, his back, trying his best to sooth him. Kurt sobbed softly, mourning the loss of one of his friends. "She was a smart girl. She knew better."
Once Kurt stopped quietly sobbing, Blaine began to think. There was strife, turmoil and a downright war outside. There was an attack on the brothel, an immoral place that should have been illegal. They could take advantage of the turmoil and get out, since their lives were already in danger by being in the dangerous place they were.
"Maybe we can do something," he said out loud, not even realizing he was trying to say it. "Maybe there is a way to use the warring outside and escape."
That made Kurt angry. He looked back at Blaine, before forcibly removing himself from Blaine's arms. "One of our friends is dead Blaine," he snapped. "She's dead because she tried to escape. How can you even have the audacity to suggest that right now? That's what killed Quinn. There is no escape Blaine." He got up, out of their shared bed and Blaine felt guilty. He had made that suggestion at a ridiculously inappropriate time.
Kurt was crying, tears streaming down his face and onto his chest, and it hurt Blaine's heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at his beautiful Kurt standing there. He shook his head. "I'm sorry baby. That was so wrong, so insensitive."
"You're damned right it was," Kurt snapped, but Blaine was quite unnerved by his boyfriend's resolve that escape was impossible.