I Miss You
Title: I Miss You
Author: blueberrykissa
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: fluff, mild mild mild angst
Warning: language, un-beta'd
Spoilers: season 1 to be safe
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately I do not, nor do I profit from this fic.
Author Notes: This is my first fic for the glee fandom! Something short and fluffy (: Written for this prompt on the fic meme.
Summary: "...and at lunch I saw a short orange plaid skirt out of the corner of my eye and almost had a heart attack, I swear to God I thought it was Rachel..."
Word Count: 1,452
Kurt opened the door to his small apartment, the click of the doorknob echoing in the hallway. He trudged into his living room, the audible clang of his keys in their rightful bowl permeating his consciousness. He flicked the light on and dropped his heavy book bag, noting the thunk it made as it met the floor. Nimble fingers removed the trademark scarf from around his pale neck and, with a sigh, he opened the coat closet and placed it gently in the oversized hat box filled with a variety of other scarves. He shrugged the stylish blazer from his shoulders, hanging it in the same closet before turning and closing the door with a shoed foot. Kurt marched into the living room and sat down, refraining from resting his aching feet on the coffee table and letting his head fall back onto the comfortable couch. His eyes wandered tiredly around the room before settling on the picture frame on the coffee table; he felt a tug on his heart. He quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at the small television while his hands searched for the remote, set on watching a mindless hour of reality TV.
As he sat there, staring at the screen, he couldn’t help but not pay attention. The sounds of the TV faded into background noise, the lights dancing around the room as Kurt felt his eyes slide back to the small white picture frame. Before he could stop himself, Kurt had leant forward and picked up the photo, and was now back in his original position, holding the frame up to his face. The photo was simple, a candid moment snapped by his step-brother Finn just moments after their High School Graduation at William McKinley. Kurt, clad in his red robes, was clutching his diploma, waving it triumphantly above his head, a broad grin on his face as his clung to the back of his boyfriend, Noah Puckerman. Puck was standing, grinning himself as he tried to balance the exuberant graduate he was giving a piggyback ride to, his red graduation cap smashed down on his shaved head, the tassel dangling comically in front of his face. Kurt smiled as he saw Carol’s loopy handwriting scrawled on the back (she had been the one to send him the photo after it had been developed), simply stating the date and “You did it!” on the bottom.
Kurt turned the photo back over in his hand, his heart giving another painful tug as he stared into the printed eyes of his long-distance boyfriend. There had never been any doubt that Kurt would leave Lima the second he graduated, headed towards the big city. Unfortunately, his boyfriend hadn’t had the same luxury. With his mother growing older and older without anyone to look after her and his little sister, Puck had ended up staying at home, attending community college and working as a waiter to help out his ma, while Kurt lived it up in the Big Apple, studying fashion and design. Every time he thought about it, Kurt could feel the empty feeling in his stomach worsen. Kurt put the picture back down, feeling thoroughly more depressed than when he got home (an amazing feat - he’d been forced to practice monotonous pleating all day). He stood up and headed for the bathroom, physically and emotionally exhausted and ready for bed.
--
An hour and a quick moisturize later, Kurt was getting ready for bed when his cell phone began to ring. He moved across the room, the ends of his pajama bottoms trailing across the floor. He smiled as he saw the number lighting up the phone, “Puckasaurus Flex” above it along with a picture of Puck making kissy faces to the camera. He picked up the phone, quickly unlocking it and pressing answer, holding it up to his ear.
“Hey,” he said, trying not to let the fatigue show in his voice.
“Shit - I didn’t wake you up did I?” Kurt laughed as the familiar tones of his long-distance beau came statically through the phone. He shook his head, unseen by the man he was talking to a few states over, “No. We’re in the same timezone, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Puck’s laughter rang in his ears, and Kurt could see the man in front of him in his mind’s eye. If he reached out, he could almost touch him, almost. He willed the thought from his head, allowing only the knot in his stomach to stay. “So how’s everyone?” Kurt asked after a moment of silence, sitting on the bed and putting the phone on speaker so as to brush his hair.
“As good as they always are. Ma had a doctor’s appointment today, he said her blood pressure was getting lower but they took a blood test anyways...” Kurt made noises of confirmation as he placed his brush on his bedside table. He then leaned against his headboard as he listened to Puck, his fingers finding their way to the edge of the oversized t-shirt he was wearing (Puck’s, from the last time he’d been able to visit). He stared at the hem and listened. “…Sarah likes high school so far - she’s a freshman now, isn’t that insane? I took her shopping for school supplies and stuff the other day, holy shit they need a lot of useless crap for all those honors and AP classes, I don’t even know…”
Kurt made a “mhmm” noise as he lay his head down on the fluffy white pillow, maneuvering himself so he was on his back, the phone still on speaker resting on his expanding and contracting diaphragm. Puck continued to talk, and Kurt could hear the rustling of sheets behind him; he assumed Puck was sitting on his own bed as well.
“…and I told her about that one time where I was the only one who could say penis without laughing in health class…” Kurt chuckled. “Oh hey, you’re still alive, I thought you’d died or something.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Kurt said, his eyes at half mast as he settled more into the bed. “But if you must know, I had an atrocious day at school. I spent hours pleating, a basic skill I mastered the artistry of months ago, and at lunch I saw a short orange plaid skirt out of the corner of my eye and almost had a heart attack, I swear to God I thought it was Rachel...”
Kurt continued to babble on about everything and nothing, content just to be able to hear the confirming sounds of Puck on the other end. His voice began to grow raspy, and tapered off slowly. Puck noticed and began talking to fill the silence, recounting his troubles at work and his classes. At one point, after a long pause where they couldn’t think of anything more to talk about themselves, Kurt released a sigh as he muttered into the phone, “Noah?”
“Still here.” Kurt smiled.
“I’m really exhausted, and I need to get my beauty sleep. I think I’m going to get off the line-“
“Wait.” Puck interrupted him, and Kurt looked at the phone inquisitively before he remembered Puck couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah?” he said.
“Stay on the phone with me.”
“…Okay.” Kurt shifted onto his side, placing the phone by his pillow and settling under the covers. He made sure the phone was plugged in before shutting off the lamp. He lay there for a while, staring at the phone and listening to the comforting sounds of rustling from the other end. “Noah?” he asked again.
“Yeah, babe?” Puck’s voice sounded just as raspy as his.
“I miss you.”
There was a long pause after that, and Kurt wondered briefly if the call had disconnected before he heard a reply. “Yeah. Yeah, I miss you too.” He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.
“Good.” He said, his eyelids drooping. The phone’s bright backlight glared at him from its spot beside his head, but Kurt found he didn’t mind much; the light meant that Puck was still there, still listening to him breathing, still thinking about him, still missing him. He could feel himself drift off when Puck said “Kurt?”
“Mmm.” Kurt said, half-asleep and too out-of-it to respond coherently.
“Goodnight.” Puck’s voice rumbled fondly.
“Mmm.” Kurt repeated, closing his eyes as he fought a losing battle with consciousness. He was barely awake enough to hear the lowly whispered “I love you, angel” before drifting off into a deep sleep.
A couple hundred miles away, Puck smiled as he heard the sounds of his boyfriend’s sleep next to his ear, and he let himself join him.
Author: blueberrykissa
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: fluff, mild mild mild angst
Warning: language, un-beta'd
Spoilers: season 1 to be safe
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately I do not, nor do I profit from this fic.
Author Notes: This is my first fic for the glee fandom! Something short and fluffy (: Written for this prompt on the fic meme.
Summary: "...and at lunch I saw a short orange plaid skirt out of the corner of my eye and almost had a heart attack, I swear to God I thought it was Rachel..."
Word Count: 1,452
Kurt opened the door to his small apartment, the click of the doorknob echoing in the hallway. He trudged into his living room, the audible clang of his keys in their rightful bowl permeating his consciousness. He flicked the light on and dropped his heavy book bag, noting the thunk it made as it met the floor. Nimble fingers removed the trademark scarf from around his pale neck and, with a sigh, he opened the coat closet and placed it gently in the oversized hat box filled with a variety of other scarves. He shrugged the stylish blazer from his shoulders, hanging it in the same closet before turning and closing the door with a shoed foot. Kurt marched into the living room and sat down, refraining from resting his aching feet on the coffee table and letting his head fall back onto the comfortable couch. His eyes wandered tiredly around the room before settling on the picture frame on the coffee table; he felt a tug on his heart. He quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at the small television while his hands searched for the remote, set on watching a mindless hour of reality TV.
As he sat there, staring at the screen, he couldn’t help but not pay attention. The sounds of the TV faded into background noise, the lights dancing around the room as Kurt felt his eyes slide back to the small white picture frame. Before he could stop himself, Kurt had leant forward and picked up the photo, and was now back in his original position, holding the frame up to his face. The photo was simple, a candid moment snapped by his step-brother Finn just moments after their High School Graduation at William McKinley. Kurt, clad in his red robes, was clutching his diploma, waving it triumphantly above his head, a broad grin on his face as his clung to the back of his boyfriend, Noah Puckerman. Puck was standing, grinning himself as he tried to balance the exuberant graduate he was giving a piggyback ride to, his red graduation cap smashed down on his shaved head, the tassel dangling comically in front of his face. Kurt smiled as he saw Carol’s loopy handwriting scrawled on the back (she had been the one to send him the photo after it had been developed), simply stating the date and “You did it!” on the bottom.
Kurt turned the photo back over in his hand, his heart giving another painful tug as he stared into the printed eyes of his long-distance boyfriend. There had never been any doubt that Kurt would leave Lima the second he graduated, headed towards the big city. Unfortunately, his boyfriend hadn’t had the same luxury. With his mother growing older and older without anyone to look after her and his little sister, Puck had ended up staying at home, attending community college and working as a waiter to help out his ma, while Kurt lived it up in the Big Apple, studying fashion and design. Every time he thought about it, Kurt could feel the empty feeling in his stomach worsen. Kurt put the picture back down, feeling thoroughly more depressed than when he got home (an amazing feat - he’d been forced to practice monotonous pleating all day). He stood up and headed for the bathroom, physically and emotionally exhausted and ready for bed.
--
An hour and a quick moisturize later, Kurt was getting ready for bed when his cell phone began to ring. He moved across the room, the ends of his pajama bottoms trailing across the floor. He smiled as he saw the number lighting up the phone, “Puckasaurus Flex” above it along with a picture of Puck making kissy faces to the camera. He picked up the phone, quickly unlocking it and pressing answer, holding it up to his ear.
“Hey,” he said, trying not to let the fatigue show in his voice.
“Shit - I didn’t wake you up did I?” Kurt laughed as the familiar tones of his long-distance beau came statically through the phone. He shook his head, unseen by the man he was talking to a few states over, “No. We’re in the same timezone, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Puck’s laughter rang in his ears, and Kurt could see the man in front of him in his mind’s eye. If he reached out, he could almost touch him, almost. He willed the thought from his head, allowing only the knot in his stomach to stay. “So how’s everyone?” Kurt asked after a moment of silence, sitting on the bed and putting the phone on speaker so as to brush his hair.
“As good as they always are. Ma had a doctor’s appointment today, he said her blood pressure was getting lower but they took a blood test anyways...” Kurt made noises of confirmation as he placed his brush on his bedside table. He then leaned against his headboard as he listened to Puck, his fingers finding their way to the edge of the oversized t-shirt he was wearing (Puck’s, from the last time he’d been able to visit). He stared at the hem and listened. “…Sarah likes high school so far - she’s a freshman now, isn’t that insane? I took her shopping for school supplies and stuff the other day, holy shit they need a lot of useless crap for all those honors and AP classes, I don’t even know…”
Kurt made a “mhmm” noise as he lay his head down on the fluffy white pillow, maneuvering himself so he was on his back, the phone still on speaker resting on his expanding and contracting diaphragm. Puck continued to talk, and Kurt could hear the rustling of sheets behind him; he assumed Puck was sitting on his own bed as well.
“…and I told her about that one time where I was the only one who could say penis without laughing in health class…” Kurt chuckled. “Oh hey, you’re still alive, I thought you’d died or something.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Kurt said, his eyes at half mast as he settled more into the bed. “But if you must know, I had an atrocious day at school. I spent hours pleating, a basic skill I mastered the artistry of months ago, and at lunch I saw a short orange plaid skirt out of the corner of my eye and almost had a heart attack, I swear to God I thought it was Rachel...”
Kurt continued to babble on about everything and nothing, content just to be able to hear the confirming sounds of Puck on the other end. His voice began to grow raspy, and tapered off slowly. Puck noticed and began talking to fill the silence, recounting his troubles at work and his classes. At one point, after a long pause where they couldn’t think of anything more to talk about themselves, Kurt released a sigh as he muttered into the phone, “Noah?”
“Still here.” Kurt smiled.
“I’m really exhausted, and I need to get my beauty sleep. I think I’m going to get off the line-“
“Wait.” Puck interrupted him, and Kurt looked at the phone inquisitively before he remembered Puck couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah?” he said.
“Stay on the phone with me.”
“…Okay.” Kurt shifted onto his side, placing the phone by his pillow and settling under the covers. He made sure the phone was plugged in before shutting off the lamp. He lay there for a while, staring at the phone and listening to the comforting sounds of rustling from the other end. “Noah?” he asked again.
“Yeah, babe?” Puck’s voice sounded just as raspy as his.
“I miss you.”
There was a long pause after that, and Kurt wondered briefly if the call had disconnected before he heard a reply. “Yeah. Yeah, I miss you too.” He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.
“Good.” He said, his eyelids drooping. The phone’s bright backlight glared at him from its spot beside his head, but Kurt found he didn’t mind much; the light meant that Puck was still there, still listening to him breathing, still thinking about him, still missing him. He could feel himself drift off when Puck said “Kurt?”
“Mmm.” Kurt said, half-asleep and too out-of-it to respond coherently.
“Goodnight.” Puck’s voice rumbled fondly.
“Mmm.” Kurt repeated, closing his eyes as he fought a losing battle with consciousness. He was barely awake enough to hear the lowly whispered “I love you, angel” before drifting off into a deep sleep.
A couple hundred miles away, Puck smiled as he heard the sounds of his boyfriend’s sleep next to his ear, and he let himself join him.