Mushroom Clouds - Glee - Karofsky/Kurt
Title: Mushroom Clouds
Pairing: Karofsky/Kurt
Word Count: 858
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Character deaths
A/N: Written for lenina20 for the Five Acts Meme.
Summary: The world ends before they make it to Nationals. Only a small group of students survive.
The world ends before they make it to Nationals.
Figures.
"We would have won this time," Rachel insists, dirt coating her face. "I could feel it."
"You can always feels it," Kurt sighs. "And you're always wrong."
The sky is grey. He can't see a use for optimism.
*
It happens during French class, the apocalypse. They are half-way through learning how to discuss their favourite movies when the ground shakes and the windows shatter.
"Earthquake!" someone yells.
Kurt spends the next ten minutes cowering beneath his desk, Mercedes's hand clinging tightly to his own. The world shakes and the skies crumble.
Sometimes, when it's night and it's cold and he's shivering, Kurt wishes that he'd died then, crushed or suffocated like most of the others. It would be have been easier. Better, maybe.
*
"They did it on purpose," Rachel declares, as they sit in the rubble of the school.
Kurt warms his hands by the fire. "Who?"
"Vocal Adrenaline. They knew we were on form."
"So they ended the world?"
"It makes sense."
"Will someone shut her up?" Karofsky snaps, huddled in the corner of what used to be a classroom. "No one cared about your little gay club even before the world ended. You think anybody gives a shit now?"
"Be quiet, Karofsky," Quinn replies, looking down at her ragged nails. "We all wish you'd died in the collapse anyway."
Kurt keeps his head down, holds his tongue. He tells himself he has nothing to add to the conversation; he tells himself that he's not a coward.
*
Because at night, when they huddle around the fire and dare to catch some sleep, Kurt doesn't sleep alone. During the day, Karofsky keeps his distance, but at night Kurt allows him to come close. He doesn't know what he's doing; he doesn't try to explain it to his tired friends. Loneliness takes no prisoners, and Karofsky's body is warm when he crawls beside Kurt, holding his body against his chest. Kurt keeps his eyes closed, even though they both know that he's awake. It's easier, this way. He can smell smoke and dirt and his lungs are clogged with that ever-present ash, but when his eyes are closed he can trick himself into believing that (maybemaybemaybe) when he wakes up he's going to be in his own bed, and his dad is still going to be alive, and he's going to go to school and his worst problem is going to be worrying about whether or not Karofsky is going to beat him up today.
There's no violence in Karofsky's hands now, and Kurt allows him to nuzzle against the back of his neck.
Maybe this is the price for comfort, allowing someone he hates to touch him like this.
This is what it takes to feel safe.
*
"We should leave him behind," Quinn says, speaking under her breath when they're planning their next move.
Kurt doesn't need to look up to know who she is talking about. The thought has crossed all of their minds. Karofsky does nothing but snipe at them all day, undercut every effort and sling insults back and forth. He's a scared kid, puffed up like a man to pretend that he's not. All in all, he's dangerous.
Still, Kurt nudges a fallen rock with his foot and shakes his head. "We have to go together, Quinn. You said that."
"Don't tell me you're going to stick up for your little boyfriend?" Quinn asks. Kurt can see the cheerleading curl to her upperlip: disgust and disapproval rolled into one. "You hate him, remember?"
"I don't need to be reminded. But everyone's dead. We need all we can get."
"You just don't want to lose your cuddle-buddy," Quinn says.
Maybe she has a point. It doesn't matter.
"He's coming with us," Kurt insists. "That's final."
If there is further argument, he doesn't stay to listen.
*
That night, Karofsky comes to him too early, sitting at his side in the light of the fire. The flames flicker in front of them, devouring the last of their fuel. What few belongings they have are already packed and waiting for the morning; there are rumours of other survivors further south, an entire band of them. If they're lucky, they'll be able to find civilisation, find something that outlasted the end.
"I just, ah, wanted to say..." Karofsky snorts, passing his hand over his mouth as if he doesn't want to let the words out. "Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. I know the bitches wanted to chuck me out of the group."
"Don't call them that," Kurt intones, without looking towards him. "They're my friends."
"You don't even like them."
Kurt thinks of Mercedes's dead body, crushed by falling rubble; he thinks of Finn, one of the many who died from the reaction to the gas in the air. And his dad, his poor father, whose house tumbled down around him.
"I don't like anyone," Kurt says.
He can feel Karofsky looking at him, a dirty prickle on the side of his face, and he doesn't twitch. Doesn't look towards him. Doesn't react at all.
Seconds pass by. His heart beats.
The world is over; life goes on.
Pairing: Karofsky/Kurt
Word Count: 858
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Character deaths
A/N: Written for lenina20 for the Five Acts Meme.
Summary: The world ends before they make it to Nationals. Only a small group of students survive.
The world ends before they make it to Nationals.
Figures.
"We would have won this time," Rachel insists, dirt coating her face. "I could feel it."
"You can always feels it," Kurt sighs. "And you're always wrong."
The sky is grey. He can't see a use for optimism.
*
It happens during French class, the apocalypse. They are half-way through learning how to discuss their favourite movies when the ground shakes and the windows shatter.
"Earthquake!" someone yells.
Kurt spends the next ten minutes cowering beneath his desk, Mercedes's hand clinging tightly to his own. The world shakes and the skies crumble.
Sometimes, when it's night and it's cold and he's shivering, Kurt wishes that he'd died then, crushed or suffocated like most of the others. It would be have been easier. Better, maybe.
*
"They did it on purpose," Rachel declares, as they sit in the rubble of the school.
Kurt warms his hands by the fire. "Who?"
"Vocal Adrenaline. They knew we were on form."
"So they ended the world?"
"It makes sense."
"Will someone shut her up?" Karofsky snaps, huddled in the corner of what used to be a classroom. "No one cared about your little gay club even before the world ended. You think anybody gives a shit now?"
"Be quiet, Karofsky," Quinn replies, looking down at her ragged nails. "We all wish you'd died in the collapse anyway."
Kurt keeps his head down, holds his tongue. He tells himself he has nothing to add to the conversation; he tells himself that he's not a coward.
*
Because at night, when they huddle around the fire and dare to catch some sleep, Kurt doesn't sleep alone. During the day, Karofsky keeps his distance, but at night Kurt allows him to come close. He doesn't know what he's doing; he doesn't try to explain it to his tired friends. Loneliness takes no prisoners, and Karofsky's body is warm when he crawls beside Kurt, holding his body against his chest. Kurt keeps his eyes closed, even though they both know that he's awake. It's easier, this way. He can smell smoke and dirt and his lungs are clogged with that ever-present ash, but when his eyes are closed he can trick himself into believing that (maybemaybemaybe) when he wakes up he's going to be in his own bed, and his dad is still going to be alive, and he's going to go to school and his worst problem is going to be worrying about whether or not Karofsky is going to beat him up today.
There's no violence in Karofsky's hands now, and Kurt allows him to nuzzle against the back of his neck.
Maybe this is the price for comfort, allowing someone he hates to touch him like this.
This is what it takes to feel safe.
*
"We should leave him behind," Quinn says, speaking under her breath when they're planning their next move.
Kurt doesn't need to look up to know who she is talking about. The thought has crossed all of their minds. Karofsky does nothing but snipe at them all day, undercut every effort and sling insults back and forth. He's a scared kid, puffed up like a man to pretend that he's not. All in all, he's dangerous.
Still, Kurt nudges a fallen rock with his foot and shakes his head. "We have to go together, Quinn. You said that."
"Don't tell me you're going to stick up for your little boyfriend?" Quinn asks. Kurt can see the cheerleading curl to her upperlip: disgust and disapproval rolled into one. "You hate him, remember?"
"I don't need to be reminded. But everyone's dead. We need all we can get."
"You just don't want to lose your cuddle-buddy," Quinn says.
Maybe she has a point. It doesn't matter.
"He's coming with us," Kurt insists. "That's final."
If there is further argument, he doesn't stay to listen.
*
That night, Karofsky comes to him too early, sitting at his side in the light of the fire. The flames flicker in front of them, devouring the last of their fuel. What few belongings they have are already packed and waiting for the morning; there are rumours of other survivors further south, an entire band of them. If they're lucky, they'll be able to find civilisation, find something that outlasted the end.
"I just, ah, wanted to say..." Karofsky snorts, passing his hand over his mouth as if he doesn't want to let the words out. "Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. I know the bitches wanted to chuck me out of the group."
"Don't call them that," Kurt intones, without looking towards him. "They're my friends."
"You don't even like them."
Kurt thinks of Mercedes's dead body, crushed by falling rubble; he thinks of Finn, one of the many who died from the reaction to the gas in the air. And his dad, his poor father, whose house tumbled down around him.
"I don't like anyone," Kurt says.
He can feel Karofsky looking at him, a dirty prickle on the side of his face, and he doesn't twitch. Doesn't look towards him. Doesn't react at all.
Seconds pass by. His heart beats.
The world is over; life goes on.