Glee wip - kidfic AU
Sep. 11th, 2012 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereSince I never seem to finish anything lately, I figure I'll just share what I have, even if it is a silly idea that might not get finished. It's an idea that's been hanging around and tempted me to write, though.
Children and Chanel
Chanel should be a haven of restrained taste and delicate sensibilities. It should be elegant and understated; a quiet, calm oasis in the middle of Manhattan’s rush. As much as Kurt loves fashion, as much as working for Vogue is a dream come true, sometimes he needs some peace. Sometimes, he needs to sit on those well-lit white couches and let that reserved grace soak into his pores.
He does not need to be disturbed by the squawking of children. Chanel is not a place for children.
And yet, there is a small dark-haired boy galloping up the stairs, yelling that this isn’t as much fun as the park. Kurt looks around for the irresponsible parent, or more likely an inefficient nanny, and spots a little girl with dark hair to her shoulders. She’s tugging insistently at a man’s hand and crossing her legs in an unmistakable way.
The man is far more worthy of Kurt’s attention. He’s cute and tanned, not too tall, with nice shoulders if you ignore the Dora the Explorer bag hooked across them. He’s standing in a Chanel store with scuffed Sketchers and a Henley rolled up at the elbows, so Kurt figures he’s the inefficient nanny in this scenario.
The nanny is talking to Alain, the assistant manager, and he keeps smiling hopefully, nodding at Alain’s replies. Kurt’s spent enough time in this store to know Alain’s Parisian background is an embellishment but his dedication to maintaining a standard within the store is impenetrable.
Kurt stands up and wanders closer. He catches Alain’s not-at-all-apologetic tone insisting, “The facilities are only for store customers. It is store policy,” and the nanny’s earnestly polite voice saying, “I understand that, I really do, but surely there’s room for extenuating circumstances?”
“I’m sorry,” Alain says, chin rising with a well-timed sniff, “I don’t have the authority to change store policies.”
“I’m a customer,” Kurt says. Beside him, the nanny turns in surprise, brown eyes widening before his face splits into the biggest smile Kurt’s ever seen. “Maybe you could bend the rules, Alain. For me.” Kurt adds a tiny flirtatious smile because he’s not above using his looks to get access to new season stock or heavily discounted samples. This is almost charity in comparison.
Alain’s gaze narrows, but he asks “Pour toi?” as if they’re the best of friends.
“They’re my cousin’s kids.” Kurt tries to look like a fond relative, but he can’t help wincing when there’s a yell and a clatter from the mezzanine level. Children and Chanel should not mix. “They were supposed to meet me at the park—”
“But we thought we’d surprise you here,” the nanny butts in, “and now the situation is urgent. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we have a window of about five minutes before this is a disaster.”
At that, Alain glares at the little girl in horror. Kurt carefully keeps a very straight face.
“Go ahead,” Alain says, shooing them with a hand. “Kurt knows where it is.”
Kurt nods his thanks. He wonders if he should take the girl’s hand or the nanny’s hand and which would be more convincing. The nanny solves the issue for him, leaning down to say, “Rose, wait just a little longer, honey,” then standing up to grab Kurt’s wrist and whisper, “Thanks so much, but I wasn’t lying about the disaster timeframe.”
“This way,” Kurt says, leading them upstairs. On the way, they pass the little boy, who seems to be pretending to be invisible beneath a rack of skirts.
“Jack,” the nanny says, quiet but firm. “Stay with us and don’t misbehave.”
“But Blaine,” is the petulant reply. Kurt can’t believe someone’s whining in Chanel; it goes against all laws of man and nature. “I wanna play.”
“If you want to play in the park, you’ll stay by my side and be good,” Blaine says firmly and the little boy scrambles to catch up.
Frowning, Kurt wonders aloud, “Jack and Rose?” and Blaine laughs under his breath.
“I think it was a coincidence. Their dad isn’t a Titanic fan.”
“And yet those names,” Kurt says, stopping as they get to the bathroom hidden near the back of the store.
Blaine shrugs. “Blame cultural osmosis. I can’t think of any other reason you’d name twins Jack and Rose.”
After a slightly awkward few minutes of waiting outside the closed bathroom door, Blaine emerges with the unfortunately named pair. Jack looks bored and Rose looks calmer, no longer fidgeting from side to side. Blaine looks… well. The smile he’s giving Kurt isn’t exactly family friendly. “Thank you,” Blaine says. “We needed a knight in shining armour. I’m Blaine, by the way.”
He actually offers his hand, so Kurt shakes it. “Kurt. And since I lied to Alain, I should probably accompany you out of here.” Belatedly, Kurt realises he’s still holding Blaine’s hand and lets go.
“The more, the merrier,” Blaine says and he reaches down to hold a tiny hand in each of his. “Isn’t that right, guys?”
***
Children and Chanel
Chanel should be a haven of restrained taste and delicate sensibilities. It should be elegant and understated; a quiet, calm oasis in the middle of Manhattan’s rush. As much as Kurt loves fashion, as much as working for Vogue is a dream come true, sometimes he needs some peace. Sometimes, he needs to sit on those well-lit white couches and let that reserved grace soak into his pores.
He does not need to be disturbed by the squawking of children. Chanel is not a place for children.
And yet, there is a small dark-haired boy galloping up the stairs, yelling that this isn’t as much fun as the park. Kurt looks around for the irresponsible parent, or more likely an inefficient nanny, and spots a little girl with dark hair to her shoulders. She’s tugging insistently at a man’s hand and crossing her legs in an unmistakable way.
The man is far more worthy of Kurt’s attention. He’s cute and tanned, not too tall, with nice shoulders if you ignore the Dora the Explorer bag hooked across them. He’s standing in a Chanel store with scuffed Sketchers and a Henley rolled up at the elbows, so Kurt figures he’s the inefficient nanny in this scenario.
The nanny is talking to Alain, the assistant manager, and he keeps smiling hopefully, nodding at Alain’s replies. Kurt’s spent enough time in this store to know Alain’s Parisian background is an embellishment but his dedication to maintaining a standard within the store is impenetrable.
Kurt stands up and wanders closer. He catches Alain’s not-at-all-apologetic tone insisting, “The facilities are only for store customers. It is store policy,” and the nanny’s earnestly polite voice saying, “I understand that, I really do, but surely there’s room for extenuating circumstances?”
“I’m sorry,” Alain says, chin rising with a well-timed sniff, “I don’t have the authority to change store policies.”
“I’m a customer,” Kurt says. Beside him, the nanny turns in surprise, brown eyes widening before his face splits into the biggest smile Kurt’s ever seen. “Maybe you could bend the rules, Alain. For me.” Kurt adds a tiny flirtatious smile because he’s not above using his looks to get access to new season stock or heavily discounted samples. This is almost charity in comparison.
Alain’s gaze narrows, but he asks “Pour toi?” as if they’re the best of friends.
“They’re my cousin’s kids.” Kurt tries to look like a fond relative, but he can’t help wincing when there’s a yell and a clatter from the mezzanine level. Children and Chanel should not mix. “They were supposed to meet me at the park—”
“But we thought we’d surprise you here,” the nanny butts in, “and now the situation is urgent. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we have a window of about five minutes before this is a disaster.”
At that, Alain glares at the little girl in horror. Kurt carefully keeps a very straight face.
“Go ahead,” Alain says, shooing them with a hand. “Kurt knows where it is.”
Kurt nods his thanks. He wonders if he should take the girl’s hand or the nanny’s hand and which would be more convincing. The nanny solves the issue for him, leaning down to say, “Rose, wait just a little longer, honey,” then standing up to grab Kurt’s wrist and whisper, “Thanks so much, but I wasn’t lying about the disaster timeframe.”
“This way,” Kurt says, leading them upstairs. On the way, they pass the little boy, who seems to be pretending to be invisible beneath a rack of skirts.
“Jack,” the nanny says, quiet but firm. “Stay with us and don’t misbehave.”
“But Blaine,” is the petulant reply. Kurt can’t believe someone’s whining in Chanel; it goes against all laws of man and nature. “I wanna play.”
“If you want to play in the park, you’ll stay by my side and be good,” Blaine says firmly and the little boy scrambles to catch up.
Frowning, Kurt wonders aloud, “Jack and Rose?” and Blaine laughs under his breath.
“I think it was a coincidence. Their dad isn’t a Titanic fan.”
“And yet those names,” Kurt says, stopping as they get to the bathroom hidden near the back of the store.
Blaine shrugs. “Blame cultural osmosis. I can’t think of any other reason you’d name twins Jack and Rose.”
After a slightly awkward few minutes of waiting outside the closed bathroom door, Blaine emerges with the unfortunately named pair. Jack looks bored and Rose looks calmer, no longer fidgeting from side to side. Blaine looks… well. The smile he’s giving Kurt isn’t exactly family friendly. “Thank you,” Blaine says. “We needed a knight in shining armour. I’m Blaine, by the way.”
He actually offers his hand, so Kurt shakes it. “Kurt. And since I lied to Alain, I should probably accompany you out of here.” Belatedly, Kurt realises he’s still holding Blaine’s hand and lets go.
“The more, the merrier,” Blaine says and he reaches down to hold a tiny hand in each of his. “Isn’t that right, guys?”
***
no subject
Date: 2012-09-12 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-12 11:41 pm (UTC)...I think next time I sit down to write I might ignore the urge to write A Story in Chronological Order and just skip to the next fun scene.