Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Second non-Maximum Ride fic ever. How is this possible?

Fang: Wow, it's a fic in which you don't torture me or soil my good name. This is rare.

Me: Yet, you're still here.

Fang: Like you could write an A/N without me.

Me: So anyway, welcome! A short explanation; I usually write for the Maximum Ride fandom, but took a little side-trip during Klaine Week on Tumblr and ended up writing two Klaine oneshots, this one, a Kid!Klaine, in which they meet as little kids, and an AU involving CanniBlaine, Serial Killer Kurt, and Fangles here. I posted them on Tumblr but thought people on here might enjoy them as well.

Fang: So here she is, torturing yet another fandom with her long A/Ns and insane mind.

Me: Like I care. The A/Ns are a time-honored tradition. And the insanity is just part of the package deal.

Fang: Could you just start the fic already.

Me: NO! Important piece missing...

For I Am Living in a Fanfictional World, and I am a Disclaiming Girl: I don't own Glee or any of the songs or artists mentioned in this fic. I don't own Darren Criss or Chris Colfer, though I wish I did. I don't own Fang, here, either. He's kinda on loan...

Fang: I was kidnapped.

Me: Whatever. Let's read on.

Blaine adored music.

At six years old, Blaine already knew the names of great composers as well as popular band leaders. He could recognise music from Amadeus to Aerosmith. He could name the notes on his keyboard and the songs on the car radio.

And the boy could sing like a bird. Blaine sang everywhere. He was singing when he got up in the morning. He sang during his bath. He sang on his way to school, and, to his teacher's dismay, he's sing in school, too. He'd sing at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He'd sing while his father was on the phone, while his mother was on the computer. He'd sing to his brother, Cooper, while he was in the shower.

It was never anything in particular. Just whatever song was stuck in his head at the time. The notes would fill his mind, the words would come pouring into his mouth, and, before he even knew it, he was belting out a Frank Sinatra classic or one of Madonna's greatest hits.

The only problem Blaine had was that no one shared his... Unique apprieciation for the musical arts. At least, no one his age. The other children at school would sometimes tease his for his musical outbursts. And none of the children would go near him. Since Blaine was always getting into trouble for singing when he wasn't supposed to in school, other children stayed away, not wanting to get into trouble themselves.

His parents, too, didn't quite understand him. His father would get downright annoyed with his youngest son's antics. Mr. Anderson enjoyed peace and quiet when he got home, and Blaine provided none of these things. Sometimes, it was all Mr. Anderson could do to keep himself from pulling out a roll of duct tape.

Mrs. Anderson understood a tiny bit better. She tried to channel Blaine's love of music to something more... Appropriate, but it never quite worked out. Though Blaine enjoyed listening to the records she bought him and playing with the instruments he'd recieved, in the end, he enjoyed singing the songs more than listening to or playing them.

The only one who really understood was Cooper. It may have been out of love for his little brother. Or maybe Cooper just enjoyed the chance to defy and annoy his parental units. Most likely, it was a bit of both. Either way, Coop was the only person who fed into Blaine's love of vocals. He'd teach Blaine the words to all his favorite songs, play the instrumentals of the songs for background. He even bought Blaine a karoke machine for Christmas, much to his parent's horror.

It was safe to say, at the time, that Cooper was little Blaine's only friend.

That is, until the day that friend took his little brother to the park.

It was an ordinary day. Cooper had been left in charge of his little brother on a Saturday. This was mildly inconvient for the young teen, since Saturdays were the days he usually went to the park to attempt, yet again, to strike up a conversation with the brunette who walked her dog there every weekend. But it was not a complete setback. Cooper merely left Blaine to play on the playground while he staked out a nearby bit of sidewalk.

Though Blaine tried to understand his brother's intentions, as best as a six-year-old could, he couldn't help but be disappointed by this turn of events. The playground wasn't the fun place for Blaine that it was for so many other children. He had no other playmates and no clue how to make any new ones. So Blaine planted himself on a swing and sat there, feet hovering just above the ground, staring off into space.

But the little boy couldn't sit still for long. Every noise he heard gave him a good beat. Dogs barking. Balls bouncing. Birds chirping. Notes and tunes flowed through his head until one just stuck.

"Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they're ok. If they don't give me proper credit I just walk away.

They can beg and they can plead but they can't see the light. 'Cause the boy with the cold, hard cash is always Mr. Right."

Blaine took a deep breathm ready to belt the refrain, only to nearly fall out of his swing as a beautiful higher-pitched voice beat him to it.

"'Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Blaine cautiously joined in. "You know that we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Blaine watched in awe as a slight, brown-haired boy hopped into the swing beside him.

"My mom used to listen to that song in the car." The new boy said, smiling at Blaine.

Not sure how to react, Blaine ventured a small smile back. "My older brother listens to it when he thinks no one else is listening..."

"That's cool." The other boy held out his hand. "I'm Kurt."

Slowly, Blaine reached out and gently took hold of the offered hand, almost afraid that the boy in front of him may dissolve into thin air. But the second their two hands intertwined, Blaine took a firm hold, amazed at how easily his hand fit into Kurt's. He gave the otherboy's hand a shake.

"I'm Blaine."

Me: Awwww... I love cute little curly-haired Blainers...

Fang: -eyeroll- You're such a girl.

Me: NO! Really? Well, oh my gosh, I AM! Fancy that!

Fang: -facepalm-

Me: Alright, I won't torture the readers anymore... Just one question...

R&R?