Summary: In a bleak dystopian AU, Dave and Kurt are among millions who pedal exercise bikes to create energy and earn credits to buy their chance out of the drudgery. They're drawn together in a world that won't let them have what they want. Can they stick to the rules or will they risk their chance to get out - to live their dreams - in order to be together now?

A/N: This story is based loosely on a one-off drama called 'Fifteen Million Merits' that aired on Channel 4 in the UK as part of the 'Black Mirror' series, but you don't need to have seen that for the fic to work, as many aspects (including the ending) will be very different.

This is my first attempt at writing something AU - will be approx. 30 chapters all in. Please review!

Warnings (for the overall story): Angst, some drug use, a little violence and a side of Seblaine.

Counters. Chapter 1

Dave wakes to the crowing of the electronic cockerel he knows he'll see as soon as he opens his eyes. He knows the chrono will read 7am and he know that when he sits up and yawns, his Counter will be there, yawning back at him, wearing the new Bieste's Bears pajamas he'd downloaded the week before.

He knows his digits will read 14,950,215. He knows that he'll spend five credits on toothpaste and watch the ad stream play on the mirrorscreen as he brushes his teeth. He'll spend fifteen credits on antiperspirant and dress in his grey jersey sweatpants and t-shirt.

He knows that he'll go to the floor and sit on his bike – right side of the floor, tenth in – and pedal for four hours while watching Pro-Virtua football, then eat a vending machine Wonderbar, drink fluoridated water and pedal for another four hours. He knows he'll pass the 15,000,000 mark and come back to his pod and spend his freshly earned credits to enrol for the Pro-Virtua football tryouts and he'll celebrate this little victory by watching Puck's Play stream and jerking off to the latest vid from Blaine or Sam or whatever new twink they have this week until lights out.

He knows because he's been working towards this for the last 174 days; working towards another fifteen million credits and a chance at something else, something better. He's not the best player, he knows that much, he failed his first try, but that doesn't mean he can't get better. Everyone needs something to aim for, right? Some glimmer of hope, a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel that is the pedalling years. It's what his Dad always told him - to try, to strive, to hope – while he can. He's almost one year into his five, and he isn't any good at anything else. He has to give it his all before it's time to produce; time to settle down and get locked into whatever life the system deems most appropriate for him. If he allows himself to think of the future, he dreads his twenty-third birthday. He needs to break out before then. He doesn't want to be stuck in the mid-zones forever, like his Dad. On the floor all day without anything real to go home to, living vicariously through his Counter. He wants a shot at something real.

He's established a firm routine: maintaining eight hours-a-day of pedalling, making eighty thousand credits per day and keeping spending to a minimum. It's easy, really. There are twenty-four on his floor, in his pattern, and he doesn't care much for any of them. He keeps to himself, mostly. It's easier that way. He knows who he'll see every day and when; who'll be in the elevator, which bikes they'll ride, when they'll break. He nods hello and smiles at them, exchange pleasantries at the vendors but he's never been big on conversation. He can deal with Counters better than people, generally, so he stays quiet, focused, keeps his buds in his ears and pedals. That's why he's the only one among them on his second fifteen this year.

And yeah, there are days when it's not enough. Days when he wishes there was something, someone real in his life, and all he wants to do is stay in his pod and eat rehydrated meat and watch Puck's Play stream but, if he ends up in a jumpsuit, sweeping floors and picking up other people's shit, there'll be plenty of time for that. He'd rather be lonely now than alone forever.

Kurt has to remind himself that, despite how nervous he feels now, this is a good thing. It's his only shot at getting out of the mid-zones. He doesn't want be do mechanics, like his Dad, for the rest of his life. He's a good singer and, when he earns enough credits to buy a ticket for Star Shot, he knows he can do it. He'll show the judges that he has what it takes to be the next Rachel Berry. All he wants is to sing, it's all he's ever wanted. And to be able to choose his own clothes, to have things, to live in the edge zone, and have a view...He knows he has what it takes. He's always felt that he was destined for better.

And here he is, just turned eighteen and ready for his first day on the floor, twenty thousand credits to his name. He has a lot of pedalling to do.

He enters the already full elevator and half-smiles at those inside. They don't respond, just look at him quizzically as he squeezes in and they ride to their zone in silence. They exit and he hangs back a little, letting them go ahead so he can find his bearings.

Zone 216 - Floor 23. He follows the signs towards the floor and tries not to show his nerves as he enters 23, glancing around him at the people already pedalling; watching Virtua Sports, playing games, racing other Counters. It looks like...fun. The first few free bikes he finds have red 'Reserved' lights above them, so he keeps going until he finds the free one on the right side, near the end, and climbs on. The seat auto-adjusts to his height and his Counter greets him, smiling back at him from the screen on a virtual bike. It's dressed in plain grey sweats, like he is, and he decides that as soon as he earns enough credits, he's finding his Counter something altogether more stylish to wear. He waves his hand to scroll through the menu and stops at 'Orientation for Newbs'. One hundred credits drain from his digits on the screen and a floor layout appears, his Counter climbs onto a bike and starts pedalling. He follows, but there's no sound. Kurt looks around the screen for a volume option, but even as he motions up with his hand, nothing happens. He stops pedalling and looks for a button on the bike itself, to no avail.

"Volume?" he says in a last ditch attempt towards the screen, on which his Counter is looking pitifully back at him. Images fly across the screen but he's missing the overall lesson.

"You have to wear your buds."

Kurt turns towards the voice and sees the guy on the bike beside him gesture towards his ear. He's big, athletic and kind of handsome, if a little mean looking. Kurt swallows hard and tries not to sound like a complete idiot as he looks blankly back at him.

"I..I don't have any."

The guy sighs and pulls a white plastic bud from his ear. "You have to buy them. From the vendors."

"Oh," Kurt smiles nervously, "I didn't know. They said I didn't have to bring anything...I just got here today."

"No kidding," the guy says flatly, still pedalling, and Kurt feels his cheeks begin to burn. "D'you know where the vendors are?"

"Um, no, but I'll find them," Kurt climbs from his bike and mumbles an embarrassed "Thanks," before rushes back off the floor.

"Hey, wait," he hears a voice behind him and casts a glance back to find the guy off his bike and following him. "I'll show you."

"You don't have to..." Kurt shakes his head and strides indignantly into the corridor. He stops as he realises he has no idea where he's going. He looks around for any indication of where the vendors might be.

The guy follows him and stands by his side when he stops. "I didn't mean to be a dick back there, I'm trying to hit fifteen today, so..." he pauses and shrugs his shoulders, his expression softening, "I could use a break anyway, I'm almost there."

"Okay. Well, thanks." Kurt smiles at him, this guy from a neighboring bike who's taken pity on him and his pathetic newb failings. He sticks out his hand in an awkward offer of a handshake, "I'm Kurt."

"Hi, Kurt," the guy returns both his handshake and his smile and his cheeks go pink. He doesn't look mean anymore. "I'm Dave."