Rating: PG - 13
Summary: Kurt took him in because it was cold outside, and he looked injured, and Kurt had an insatiable curiosity and wanted to find out how the hell the boy had ended up in his backyard in the first place (his being really attractive didn't hurt, either). It was like While You Were Sleeping, and Kurt was Sandra Bullock. Except with weird, unexplained phenomena. …And without Bill Pullman.
Spoilers: a little NBK and SLS, but AU in general
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I don't even own this idea. I stole this idea from cosmic_owl, who graciously granted me permission.
Warnings: mentions of scary movies, eventual (but not for a while) light exploration of issues of consent
A/N: Once upon a time, cosmic_owl wrote an adorable little story on lj that inspired me so much that I stole it from her. I doubt I'll be as quirky and funny as she is, but I have big plans for this little story that have taken hold of me and won't let me go. This is the first time I've ever written Kurt POV. Hopefully I haven't completely butchered his character. :) I hope you enjoy!

Kurt jolted to consciousness, blinking blindly into the darkened room as he tried to figure out why he was awake. Moonlight filtered through a sliver in the curtain, shining a severe line of silver-blue across the bottom corner of his bedspread: nothing was in his room. He shivered a little and drew the blanket up around his shoulders to wall himself off from the chill. His ears strained—maybe something had—


Kurt jumped as the air split with the sound. What was that?

It sounded like it had come from outside. His toes met iced carpet and he slipped lightning quick from the blanket-cape into the dressing gown he kept by his bed (tailored worthy of Rita Hayworth). Drawing it tight around his waist, Kurt crept carefully over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he peered out into the landscape of the backyard (he's still a little tickled at the fact that they now have a backyard), squinting slightly at the flooding bright light illuminating the outside world.


Hairs at the back of his neck tickled. Kurt determinedly ignored the slow crawling of invisible fingers at his spine, the flickering warning in his mind that whispered being watched.

It was two in the morning. Of course he was going to be a little—HOLY CRAP.

Kurt's scream strangled in his throat and turned more into a squeak as he jerked away from the window, tripping backwards over his feet and falling onto his bed, drawing his legs up off the floor and not breaking eye contact with the window because something just seriously moved out there and it was big and terrifying and maybe he should wake up Finn and get him to evacuate the house so Kurt could call an exorcist.

Oh God, two am, two am, that's when all the bad stuff happened! He knew watching Paranormal Activity last night had been a bad idea! Next time Finn wanted to have a bro night they would be watching Gypsy and no, that was not a request.

Okay. Okay. But in the meantime, there was a demonic spirit outside in the backyard and it had seen Kurt looking at it and it was only a matter of time before it decided to possess him and kill all of his family members in vengeful retaliation. Kurt had to do something. Preventative. Something preventative so that it wouldn't enter the house. Okay.

Shoulders tight around his ears, he slowly placed his feet back on the ground and tiptoed over to the window. He delicately lifted the curtain with his thumb and forefinger.

There. A blackish-blue form lying crumpled underneath the tree.

Kurt stared hard.

The form stared back.

(…Well, it might not have been staring back. Kurt didn't know, because he couldn't see its eyes.)

They stared at each other some more before Kurt spurred himself to action.

Whipping the curtain closed, he ran out his door, down the stairs, through the kitchen, before stopping abruptly by the sliding glass doors that led outside. His every muscle hummed with foreboding. What would happen when he opened the doors? Was he being just like the stupid husband if he tried to go outside and figure out what the black figure was? Damn Finn and his stupid affinity for scary movies! If Kurt hadn't had images of nightvision cameras flashing through his head, this whole situation would have been so much easier.

From where he stood by the doors, it was harder to see the figure under the oak tree. Kurt couldn't even make out a vague outline. Maybe it wasn't even there. It had been kind of hard to see up in his room, but now that he was on the ground level… he had no idea.


He'd have to go outside.

Kurt took a breath before running across the door, freezing when he reached the other side. He was careful to keep his back to the wall and his eyes wide open.

Nothing happened.

Tingling shivers scraped like fingernails down his arms and he made his way to the living room to grab a flashlight. His back tensed as the stale night air blew quietly against it. Exposed. Vulnerable. He fought the instinct to run back to the shield of safety that had been the wall.

Maybe he should have woken up Finn after all. Finn was big and tall and played football. Or better yet, his dad.

This was ridiculous. He was sixteen. You're sixteen, he scolded himself. He could handle a little thing like this. He could kick as high as his head and, if need be, sing a high F and wake up the entire neighborhood if attacked. He could do this. This wasn't scary. Going to school with David I'm-So-Far-In-The-Closet-I-Need-A-Map-To-Find-My-Way-Out Karofsky every day, that was scary. This was nothing. This was scary movie night. This was nothing.

His fingers closed around the hilt of the flashlight and Kurt raised it, carefully quiet. He turned to face the back door. No problems. Just checking out a mysterious noise. This was nothing.

The door whined as he slid back the long glass pane. He shivered as he stepped barefoot outside (slippers; that would have been smart, Kurt). Balancing on his toes in an attempt to make the least amount of contact with the ground as was possible, he clicked on the flashlight and watched as a beam of yellow invaded the night's shadows.

Nothing. He'd have to get closer. One hand drawing his dressing gown tighter against the wind, the other extending the flashlight out ahead of him like a fencing foil, he snuck slowly across the cold, dewed grass. Avoiding as best he could the crunching of aged brown leaves. Keeping a vigilant eye on the illuminated blades of green ahead of him. He was almost at the tree when—

Kurt's stomach flipped and he felt his breath hitch. Oh crap. There.

There it was. There was the form. There had been a form outside. It was underneath the oak tree. It was crumpled underneath the oak tree and it wasn't moving.

It was also apparently wearing incredibly well-kept slip-on Bostonian Eatons.


If this was the dress code for all evil spirits, maybe they weren't as bad as Finn's scary movies made them out to be.

Kurt cautiously moved closer, shining the light fully on the figure and bracing himself for a sudden attack. Or fangs. Or claws that would jump up and rip into his throat and make—


It was a boy.

Kurt blinked.

There was a boy lying crumpled underneath the oak tree in his backyard, wearing well-kept slip-on Bostonian Eatons.

At two in the morning.

…He was kind of incredibly attractive, actually.