Klaine AU | cheerio!Blaine & dalton!Kurt
(via slightestwind)
Drop The Hammer
‘50’s AU greaser!Kurt/square!Blaine (an old-fashioned spin on the badboy/nerd trend.)
Blaine pauses outside the wide open garage door of the local mechanic, Hummel & Sons hand painted on a piece of plywood on top of the squat gray building. Loud music pumps out from a radio in the back, set on a stack of old tires. The stench of cigarette smoke and motor oil permeates the air. He straightens out his shirt, flattens his hair, and checks the lay of his collar before stepping into the artificial light inside.
“Hello?” He calls. There’s a beaten-up, stripped and gutted old model T on blocks in the corner, a hulking engine sitting on the concrete floor like a pile of bones, and not a soul in sight. The music switches to something faster, a driving guitar riff and smoky vocals- something his parents would throw him out of the house for even considering.
Blaine calls out again, wandering behind a shelf teeming with parts, when a guy in a leather jacket with dark hair slicked severely on either side into a duck tail saunters up. “You lost?” He asks, cigarette dangling from his lips, another tucked behind his ear.
Older than dirt. Older than 29-year-old dirt, anyway. I love to read and write. Mostly here for the Klaine, though artsy-fartsy stuff, political opinions, pop culture miscellany, and cute animals definitely aren't out of the question.