Fifth Prompt Post
Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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Rachel launched into one of the love songs from the musical the Glee Club was preparing to put on, and Kurt listened, enraptured with the music. Burt carefully let him go and he sunk to the ground, pulling his knees back up to his chest and watching her. It was like he'd been drugged or knocked in the head or something. Finn had never seen him be so calm.
She sang Broadway tunes for an hour, Kurt saying 'again' after each one, but eventually had to stop, not wanting to damage her voice. Finn hurried with her to the door before Kurt could react.
"Thanks," he said at the door. "Sorry about your head."
"It's okay. I'll still be able to sing without any complications, that's what's most important."
"...I'm not sure that's what's most important." All those years on the football field had taught Finn to be wary of head injuries.
The two of them spent a few minutes snuggling on the porch together until his mom began flashing the lights on and off. Finn sighed and stepped away from Rachel.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
Finn nodded. "Yeah."
The house was strangely quiet after all the ruckus from earlier. Finn went back to the kitchen to find Carole cleaning up the mess.
"Is everything okay?" Finn asked.
"Everything's fine, honey. Burt grabbed the radio from our room. He and Kurt are listening to it upstairs."
Finn moved to help her move the table back. "So he really likes music, huh?"
"Looks like it. What's that saying...?"
"Music moves the cabbage beast. What's a cabbage beast?"
Carole cleared her throat in her hands to hide a laugh. "Why don't you help me finish up here? I think I'm going to need a nap after this. I'm exhausted."
Upstairs in their bedroom, after the boys were in bed, Burt sank onto the bed with a groan, regretting the day he ever bought his son those boots. His legs were killing him. Kurt had some real power behind those skinny legs of his and he used them whenever he got angry or sad or scared. Or frustrated or, hell, even hungry.
He was getting better, though. When putting him to bed, Burt had left the radio on one of the oldies stations and Kurt seemed to like that. He'd have to mention this to the doctor on the next visit. Maybe something like music therapy could help Kurt better than what they were trying now.
Carole winced when she came out of the bathroom and saw his legs. "Ouch. That cannot be good, are you alright?"
Burt groaned, settling into bed. "I'm fine, Carole. A few bruises aren't going to hurt me."
She was careful getting into bed, afraid of jostling the mattress, and kept to her side. Eventually, though, she rolled over in her sleep to snuggle up against Burt's chest. Burt pulled her closer, relishing the closeness.
(...tbc...)
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