In response to the awesome prompt: Kurt gets turned into a kitten at Dalton and the Warblers take care of him
Kitten-believing-its-a-cheetah-kurt! for the win!
David stuck his head in Wes' door. "Again."
"But it's two weeks to finals!"
"I don't think the Zoology Curse cares."
Wes got up, resignedly. It was at times like this that he really wished he had his gavel in a holder next to his cell phone holder. He was convinced that life would have far fewer moments like this. "Who did it get?"
"Kurt Hummel, the new transfer."
"Let me guess. Peacock? Bird of paradise? Baby penguin?"
David kept shaking his head and was actually kind of smirking. "No, no, and no."
"Hummingbird? Painted bunting? Egret?"
"No, not even a bird."
"But every single Warbler here who was caught in the Curse turned into a bird. It's tradition!"
"I'll give you a hint. Are you listening very carefully? Because this hint is very subtle." David took a deep breath and let out a piercing "MEEOOOW!"
"A cat. He turned into a cat." Wes was starting to get the kind of headache that usually only the combination of a concussion, a hangover, strobe lights with color gels, fingernails on chalk, and a baby screaming could produce. (As to how he knew that, the Warbler Archives on that have been sealed until 2713.)
"Does it help that he's actually a kitten?"
Thad strolled in, holding a small brownish kitten in both hands. The kitten looked at David and Wes for a moment, then rolled on its back with all four paws splayed. "Oh, come on, he wants a belly rub, don't you, Kitten Kurt?" Thad was pretty much human goo.
David tickled the tiny kitten tummy with one finger, carefully covering each of the little belly dots. Wes in the meantime texted the rest of the Warblers to alert them to the Curse's latest strike on one of theirs.
"I want to hold him next," Alex demanded.
Mike scritched Kitten Kurt under the chin. "Let's go to Petco and get him some toys!"
"Dude, I know cats. He'll sniff at them for two minutes with this 'I'm not sure what you want me to do with this' expression and then just play with the wrapping." The voice of experience came from Marek.
Thad looked like somebody had taken away one of his toys. "But it's fun!"
"I didn't say it isn't," Marek protested.
"So who gets litter box duty?" Wes' question was the perfect one to get a moment of silence as the Warblers all avoided one another's eyes. Kurt chose the moment to yawn impossibly widely and display a long and improbably pink tongue and tiny baby teeth. Blaine was the last to arrive. "Your text said that the Curse got Kurt."
Jeff drew away from the group of Warblers forming a rough square around Kurt and let Blaine take his place. Blaine stared for a moment at the brown kitten who was still engaged in a heroic chase to catch his own tail. Each time he nearly got a paw on it, it slipped away. Finally, the kitten managed to trap the very tip of his tail with his paw, and then looked rather confused.
"Well, now what, silly little thing?" Gi Tan crooned. "Whatcha going to do with your tail now? Huh, little guy? Awwwww, who's a great big hunter?" The other Warblers exchanged looks that mixed alarm and amusement. Gi Tan was the one who had a thing for splatterpunk and dozed during Saw and the American Psychomovie. Kurt applied the usual feline solution to any moment of hesitation and briefly licked the tip of his tail before releasing it.
Kurt noticed Blaine and bounded up to him, immediately scaling his trousers. "Hi, there, Kurt," Blaine said, unsure of what the kitten would understand. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, none of the Warblers who had succumbed to the Curse had remembered afterward what it was like or whether they still understood English or other human languages. Kurt settled in his hands and started to lick himself industriously.
Blaine had taken Advanced Biology. He knew that the components that, when grouped together, are typically called "cuteness" are virtually universal among mammal young. It just happened to be true that this particular baby animal, who was now industriously licking the side of his hand with a rasping little tongue, and who had the softest imaginable fur and bright, trusting eyes, was the most adorable thing in the universe. "Awwwww, can you hear him purring?"
"Road trip to Petco?" Wes suggested. He hadn't forgotten about the litter box issue, even if the rest of them had.
Kitten Kurt did not experience any communication problems at the pet supplies store. The Warblers split up temporarily to get the various supplies. Peter made the mistake of picking the first kitten-sized safety collar on the display. When he put it in the basket, Kurt jumped from Thad's shoulder into the basket, sniffed at it, and with one scoop of his paw, sent it sailing to the floor. Clearly, not even ending up temporarily in a kitten's body could make Kurt lose his sense of personal style. Blaine carried him off to the display to pick for himself. Kurt sniffed at every collar in his size, stuck his head through some of them, and finally sank his kitten teeth into his preference. Blaine checked the price tag. Kurt was true to form there, too.
When Kurt realized that there were mirrors in some of the bird cages, he made a flying leap into one of the cages and preened, licking a paw and drawing it over his face several times, and shooting a disdainful glance at the immediate sound of camera phones going off.
Blaine was very thankful that one of the litter boxes had embedded glitter on the sides because he wasn't sure what would happen if Kurt wasn't satisfied with any of the offerings, other than that it probably wouldn't be very hygienic.
After that, Kurt sat contentedly in the basket as the Warblers got a tag engraved. They traumatized the clerk more than a trifle above his pay grade when he asked what contact name and number to put on the collar and every single Warbler laid a claim. Finally, they settled on Blaine as the primary contact and David as the secondary, all the while Kurt sat on the counter with his tail curled neatly around his feet, with a "Really, boys, all quarreling over me?" expression.
They were about to leave the store when Blaine froze in a way that made a deer in the headlights look positively hyperactive. "Is that his dad's truck?" Kurt paused his cruising from shoulder to shoulder to take a curious peek as Blaine frantically tried to think how to explain to Mr. Hummel that for the next 72 hours, his son would be a kitten. "No, sorry, guys, false alarm."
Well, at least they'd learned which three Warblers were the most prone to fainting.
"Huh. It says here that cats spend up to one-third of their waking hours grooming." Jeff was checking out the websites on caring for kittens.
David tried not to and then snickered, "Well, that explains why Kurt turned into a cat instead of a bird."
"Says Mr. 'When I was a wood duck, I slept with my nose in my armpit,'" snapped Blaine, coming to Kurt's defense.
Alex watched Kurt strutting along the table. "Maybe he's jealous because he only got bread and cracked corn as his treats, while Thad bought out sixteen different kinds of kitten treats."
"You don't want a little tiny kitten to go hungry, do you?" Thad managed to look wounded, even though Kurt was on his second packet of Greenies. That hour. "Besides, they're good for his teeth and digestion."
"All right, all right, I now call this meeting to order." Wes reached for his gavel and found that he was grasping a warm, fuzzy non-gavel, since Kurt had fallen asleep on his instrument of authority, with his chin resting on the pounding part. The kitten woke up briefly, gave Wes' hand a brief lick, licked his own back furiously, and then settled back to sleep.
"Well, then, postponing the meeting's business until somebody finishes his nap," Wes resigned himself to the inevitable, "Any new choreography ideas?"
Kurt didn't relinquish his position on the gavel but lazily raised a hind foot to his mouth to clean thoroughly between the little needle claws. "Thank you, Kurt, but we're not all that flexible and I'm not sure that licking our feet would really enhance our scores." Kurt yawned widely at David's grave response and went back to sleep.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe we could do a Happy Feet tribute medley?" Malek added, in the silence that followed, "It would be a fitting bird theme."
"And do penguin dances?" Blaine was having the kinds of mental images that would come back in his dreams the next night he over-indulged in extra-spicy Thai food. Intriguing but definitely disturbing.
Kurt woke up and suddenly crouched into a full pouncing position. His squarish kitten backside began to twitch and Blaine wasn't quite sure just who began singing "Eye of the Tiger" as Kurt made a leap towards the mantleplace and the spider plant that had apparently been unconscionably provoking an attack. As Kurt lay on his back and batted at the various hanging fronds, Blaine had to wonder just a bit at how they could all immediately create an eight-part harmony so spontaneously, and then realized that somebody whose dear friend had suddenly turned into a cat due to a Curse from a perturbed zoology teacher had better not start wondering too closely, lest he find out.
Blaine had met people who could suck all of the energy or optimism out of a room just by being in it. He hadn't realized before how good kittens are at sucking all of the attention out of the room towards them. They're like little black holes for human attention, he decided. He realized, of course, that he was one to talk, since he hadn't taken his eyes off the tiny thing since he'd brought Kurt back to his dorm room. Of course, half the other Warblers followed and he was fairly sure that he might have to physically kick them out. All Kurt had to do was some perfectly normal activity like washing his face or peeping a meow, and every one of the near-adults went "Awwwwwwww."
"Look how his little tail is always sticking up," Nick gushed, sounding as though Kurt had won at least a Nobel Prize. Perhaps two. Kurt was strutting from person to person, acquiring chin scratches, petting, and cuddles before heading to the next Warbler to collect his due tribute. Finally, he yawned hugely (needless to say, another "Awwwwwwwwwww" happened) and Wes carefully settled him on the bed. Blaine supposed he was lucky that Wes hadn't put him on the pillow.
"Maybe we should let him get his rest, he's a growing kitten," David said, very reluctantly. Blaine considered he was lucky that a few of them remembered that he was in the room, too, and said goodnight to him as well as to the kitten.
After finishing his much-neglected homework, he carefully got into bed to avoid disturbing the sleeping kitten. Regardless, after just a few minutes, Kurt scrambled up from the foot of the bed to nestle under Blaine's chin. Blaine briefly wondered how anything the size of the kitten could purr so loudly before both he and Kurt fell asleep.
Despite the fact that he was not at all in love with Kurt (as he had explained to more than a few smirking Warblers), Blaine had had a few dreams about waking up and meeting Kurt's eyes. In none of those dreams, however, had the eyes been quite that shape, nor had Kurt's nose pressed against his in quite that chilly way. "Hi, Kurt," he said, reaching up to pet the little tyrant. Kurt's imperious mew reminded him of his responsibilities and he reached to his bedside table for treats. "Pushy little cat, aren't you?" The kitten rubbed against him, shoving his head into Blaine's hand.
Kurt followed his every movement as he put on his robe, grabbed his towel, soap, and shampoo, and headed down the hallway to the shower room. "I don't think you'll like it in there," Blaine warned. Kurt insisted, but still gave Blaine a tremendously reproachful look as he realized that inside, the shower room was WET and that there was splashing and spilled WATER and why hadn't Blaine WARNED him. Blaine opened the door for Kurt to leave, but when the kitten gave him a puzzled look, instead, he tucked Kurt into his robe pocket to stay warm and dry while he showered.
He should have realized that when he came out, there would be a small group of students admiring the kitten. "Nice shower accessory, Blaine," one teased.
"That's Kurt, actually."
"Oh. The Curse?"
"You got it."
"How come he's a kitten?"
"I have no idea."
After about five minutes, Blaine asked, plaintively, "Could I put my robe on? I'm getting cold in just my towel."
"Mr. Anderson? Is this accessory that you're sporting part of the new Dalton dress code?" Mr. Mason raised an eyebrow, eying Kurt, who was lounging on Blaine's shoulder.
"A pilot project, sir. I'm hoping that it catches on." Blaine had learned early on that the only way to respond successfully to the Calculus teacher was to respond in kind.
"Very well, then, carry on." Mr. Mason turned back to the whiteboard and then threw over his shoulder as an afterthought. "I have an excess supply of laser pointers. I expect you and your accessory to relieve me of this burden after class."
Blaine had made a good faith attempt to leave Kurt in his dorm room. However, the kitten peeped in frustration every time the door shut behind Blaine and Jeff, who lived on the same floor, looked rather more shocked and morally offended than he would have if Blaine had left behind a pile of corpses rather than a kitten with a clean litter box, plenty of food and water, plenty of toys, and a nice sunny windowsill with one of Blaine's favorite jerseys as a pillow.
Kurt as a kitten didn't know the meaning of "discreet" any more than human Kurt. He certainly didn't see his role as snoozing quietly in Blaine's bag. During English Composition, he'd mewed every single time Dr. Crowley said something (Blaine learned the perfect technique was to say, "Awwww, he likes you, he doesn't usually take to strangers like that"); he'd looked all too speculatively at the delicate glass apparatus during Chemistry; had an epic wrestling match with the blinds cord in World History; had cruised not just the usual Warblers' table at lunch but all the other tables; and now was draping himself over Blaine's shoulder.
Blaine still had no idea how the kitten managed to get fur all over the blazers of students sitting quietly by themselves fifteen feet away.
It had been an interesting two and a half days.
Blaine didn't know how interesting it was going to get.
Kurt padded behind David as the group walked to the dining hall. The belt for David's raincoat was dangling loose and Kurt was stalking it in full panther mode, managing to get a few inches more each time he leaped on it. Behind, the observers had managed to establish a betting pool about whether David would notice first or if Kurt would get the entire belt as his rightful prey.
Of course, pets weren't allowed on campus, let alone in the dining hall, but Wes had insisted during the very first meal that Kurt was still a student so still had dining privileges. It didn't take that much persuasion, really, since the last time the Curse struck, the dining hall staff remembered the Great Blue Heron that they had previously known as Eric, a rather talented basketball team member, standing outside with his head stuck through the window as they fed him more than five dozen fish sticks.
Kurt had naturally sampled every Warbler's dinner, winning extra points as he tried to bury the Mystery Burrito, then settled on Blaine's lap to snooze.
Blaine had really meant to keep better track of time than he had, since during the middle of another discussion of choreography, he suddenly had a lapful of Kurt as human.
Kurt as a collar-wearing human.
Kurt as a human wearing a collar and nothing else. Well, at least the collar had his name on it.
There was an eruption of cheers from the rest of the dining hall and more than a few cries of, "It's about time!"
"Uh, Blaine? What's going on? Why am I naked on your lap?" Kurt blinked some more. "And why do I have a strong but fading compulsion to rub my chin all over you?"
"Erm, because I have a sudden strong but growing compulsion to pet you all over?"