{fic} Eager to Please/Lucky to Love 16/?
Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15
Kurt’s birthday party arrived. Kurt learned that September 18th was his actual birthday, according to the paperwork that Dave got from Schuester’s. Dave had invited Azimio and Kim and Sue, of course. Brittany and Santana were there and Kurt had asked Tina to come and she brought her husband. Dave insisted Figgins come, too.
Brittany and Santana had baked the cake and made the food, not letting Kurt do any of the work since it was all for him. They made him leave the house all afternoon, in fact, while they put up the streamers that Dave had given them.
Kurt was feeling strange, however during the actual party itself. He’d never had so much attention focused on just him. Dave could tell he was feeling uncomfortable and caught him in the kitchen after everyone had arrived and started eating the fingerfoods. “It’s ok, Kurt. Try to relax. This is your day and if you feel a little overwhelmed, we can end it sooner than we planned. Everyone is here for you and wants to make sure you have a happy birthday,” he smiled as he rubbed Kurt’s arm lightly.
Kurt closed his eyes and tried to do what Dave suggested…relax. “Ok, thank you,” he whispered, returning to the table where everyone was eating.
He opened his presents and was brought to tears once or twice by the amazing gifts they had gotten him. Tina bought him a beautiful leather jacket, hip and stylish and Kurt tried to imagine himself wearing it out somewhere nice…he loved it immediately. Santana and Brittany used money Dave had given them and bought him some things from Tina’s shop that Tina helped them pick out. Figgins gave him a gift card to an art supply store, on Dave’s suggestion. Kim brought a collection of recipe cards in a very nice looking recipe box. Several of the recipes were low-fat and low-carb, she mentioned, on Azimio’s suggestion, causing everyone to chuckle.
And Dave’s gift was in the corner of the room with a sheet thrown over it. Kurt had noticed it first thing that morning and was extremely curious what the mystery thing could be. Santana wouldn’t let him near it. Finally, after everyone else’s gifts were opened, Kurt was able to pull the sheet off, revealing a gorgeous antique-looking easel. It was beautiful. On it sat his framed picture of his mother with the ‘honorable mention’ ribbon still attached. Kurt felt tears springing to his eyes again.
“Thank you…” he mumbled as he threw his arms around Dave. “It’s beautiful.”
They ate their cake and drank champagne and Dave drifted over to Sue who stood in the back of the room. “You didn’t get him anything, Coach?” he asked, jokingly, but still disbelievingly.
“I don’t do gifts, Cantore. But I do have something to tell you that you and Precious over there might like to hear.” She lifted her full glass of champagne to her lips and drained it, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, “Court date’s been set. October 3rd. I’ll need to see you and Kiki in the lobby of family courtroom #6 at 10am that morning.” She nodded tersely and made her way across the room to Kurt, whom she hugged awkwardly and then said goodbye to. Dave was still standing where he was, shocked, frozen, disbelieving.
They had a court date. It was really happening.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave went over the details with the lawyer from his company who’d agreed to represent Kurt as a favor to Dave. Everything was set. Kurt’s slave record of birth would be converted into a freeman’s birth certificate. He’d be issued a social security card within a week and with it the ability to become a functioning, productive member of free society. He had to swear under oath that he would do just that, in fact. Slaves of working age given their freedom had to show proof of employment within six months or their freedom could be revoked. The welfare system was not set up to support deadbeat former domestics, the lawyer stated clearly to Dave.
“Of course, yeah. But couldn’t he just say that he was my housekeeper? I can pay him, you know…whatever wage he needs to show in order to satisfy the judge.”
“Doesn’t work like that, Dave. He needs a real job, separate from you and his former responsibilities as your slave.”
Dave thought about that. At least he had six months, so no stressing out just yet.
“There’s another thing, Dave. His surname, has he mentioned to you what he wants that to be?”
Fuck! Dave hadn’t even thought about that. Of course, Kurt would need a last name. As far as Dave knew, slaves, the older ones at least, always took their owner’s last name when they were granted emancipation. He wondered if Sue had gone over that with Kurt. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything to me.”
“Well, I took the liberty of doing some research for you. I tracked down Kurt’s slave father and his family line. It seems his grandfather, Kurt’s great-grandfather was one of sixteen children born to poor immigrants straight off the boat. They sold the younger five into slavery in order to survive. That’s where his story began. The family name, if he’s interested, is Hummel. It’s German.
Dave took the information the man handed him, thanking him and trying to comprehend what was happening, still. It was all moving so fast. He couldn’t believe the court date was less than a week away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The court date arrived. Dave and Kurt drove to the courthouse in nervous silence. Dave glanced sideways at the fidgeting younger man several times, trying to come up with something positive and reassuring to say. Nothing came to him. A small part of him was hoping Kurt would say something positive and reassuring to him.
They met Sue and the lawyer in the lobby. They walked in and stood before the judge. Kurt raised his right hand, swore to abide by the laws of free society, swore to become a productive member of free society and swore to that he was making this choice of his own free will. Next Sue gave her input, stating how Kurt was an impressive subject, from the very beginning, having the ability to think independently and grasp concepts that slaves generally were unable to. The lawyer made sure all paperwork was in order and that was it.
The judge deliberated all of twenty seconds, slapping his gavel and stating that Kurt Hummel was hereby granted his emancipation in the eyes of the state of Massachusetts and the United States of America.
It was over and they made their way out into the quiet corridor. Kurt holding his papers in front of him, trying not to show the trembling in his hands.
“Anything at all, ok, Buttercup,” Sue was saying, “Call me, text me…run away and come find me. Whatever you need, I’m still your coach.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quietly. She turned and walked away, leaving Dave and Kurt standing alone in the large empty wood-paneled and depressing courthouse.
“Let’s go eat some lunch,” Dave said, startling Kurt somewhat. “Where would you like to go?”
Kurt looked down at his papers again, answering softly, “I’m not hungry.”
Dave studied Kurt’s face. He hadn’t seen him smile all day. It was starting to worry him. “Ok, Kurt. Um…you want to just go back home?”
Kurt nodded, still looking down at his papers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rest of the week went by relatively uneventfully. Kurt was teaching Santana how to cook all of Dave’s favorite recipes. Kurt still enjoyed doing the cooking, being in the kitchen calmed him…almost as much as drawing. But he knew he had to start sharing that responsibility with her.
It was a little over a week later that he and Santana were in the kitchen together, going over the shopping list for their next trip to the larger grocery store. “Do you think you’ve got it?” he asked as she studied the list.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, making notes on it with her pen.
The color drained from Kurt’s face. “Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me that. I am not your master, I am not a ‘sir’ to you. Do you understand?”
Santana’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I’m sorry, Kurt…I just…I didn’t mean anything. I was just…”
Kurt closed his eyes, sighing heavily and trying to calm himself down. He didn’t understand why he felt so agitated all of a sudden. “No…I’m…I’m sorry, San. I shouldn’t have…blown up like that, it wasn’t your fault.” He sniffled as he ran to his room, tears stinging his eyes as he fell onto his bed. He’d been such a jumble of nerves ever since his court date. He didn’t understand why.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Things got better the following week when he finally enrolled in some art classes. He had homework, he soon discovered. He asked Santana to pose for him a few times while Dave was at work.
She didn’t mind at all. She’d sit down and strike some silly pose or stretch out on the couch, taking a nap sometimes if Kurt wasn’t paying attention. He sketched her in several different positions, learning from his instructor in class where his strong points were and what areas he needed to improve on. He’d only drawn his mother’s face before. Sketching whole bodies was different…but he liked learning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Another week went by and Kurt returned from his morning walk with Zeke, getting the mail on his way back inside. He found an envelope addressed to him from Dave’s bank. He opened it and read it carefully. It was his monthly bank statement.
His blood began to boil.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave came home from work that evening, not ready for the firestorm that was Kurt Fucking Hummel.
“What is this?” Kurt barked suddenly, catching Dave completely off guard at the front door. “What is this, David?”
Whoa, he’s using my full name, shit. Dave glanced nervously at the paper in Kurt’s hand, recognizing it as the monthly bank statement he got. And now Kurt got. “It’s your bank statement, Kurt,” he answered sheepishly. “It tells you how much you have in your acc--”
“I fucking know what a bank statement is, Dave. I know. Alright? What I want to know is why? Why are there still deposits being made into my bank account. Why are you still giving me an allowance?”
Dave was confused. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong…necessarily. He wanted to keep up the allowance, it made him feel good. “I just thought…until you, um…I just…”
“How much did you put into Santana’s account last week, Dave?” Kurt demanded.
“Fifty dollars,” Dave answered softly.
“And how much into mine?”
“Fifty dollars, but Kurt…”
“But nothing! I’m not your slave. So why? Why are you still paying me? What’s it for? What am I doing that you should be paying me an allowance, Dave? What?”
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Dave swallowed nervously, trying to think of something to say that would calm him down. He noticed Santana had ducked into her room as soon as Dave walked through the door. He was getting no help from her. “I didn’t do it to make you upset, I swear…I just. I still feel responsible for you, Kurt. I still feel like…”
“Don’t. You’re not responsible for me, Dave.”
Dave wilted, closing his eyes, scared of the sudden temper he’d never seen Kurt display.
“Why did you do this to me?” Kurt asked, his voice breaking suddenly as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I didn’t want this…not in the beginning. This was all you. Your wish, your dream…you wanted me to be free. And here I am. Fucking free, Dave, without a clue as to what I’m supposed to do with myself. I hate this. I hate feeling so lost and confused all the time. I have no purpose. I have no one to please,” he sniffled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Why am I still here, Dave? Why? You have Santana now. I feel like…I feel like I don’t belong here.”
Dave’s eyes shot up to meet his. He swallowed nervously. Please, don’t…god, no.
“I don’t have to stay here, you know,” Kurt said tersely, spitting every word, tears being wiped away roughly. “You’re not responsible for me anymore. I could…I could leave if I wanted to.”
Dave looked back down, crushed by the unbelievable pain as his heart shattered. “I know, Kurt. If you…want to leave…I can’t…I can’t stop you.” He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He looked up after a moment to see Kurt had disappeared. Or actually just walked to his room and grabbed his jacket. He was tucking his phone into his pocket as he walked past Dave and out the front door. “I’m going to take a walk.”
Dave moved out of the doorway, letting Kurt walk past him. Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kurt sat on the concrete wall and dialed Sue’s number. He cried and he talked and he blew his nose and she listened to every word.
“This is the rough part, kiddo. Believe me, I’ve been there. But you’re wrong, you know. You do have someone to please. Someone more important than any master could ever be in your life. Yourself. Look around, see it?”
“See what?” Kurt sniffled.
“Everything. See it? The world, the shops, the cars, the people, the entire fucking universe, Kurt. It doesn’t belong to just ‘them’ anymore. You are them now…you’re a member of free society. The world is yours…just as much as it’s always been theirs. Take a walk, look around, discover your world and decide for yourself…because no one can decide for you…what you want to do to please Kurt Hummel.”
Kurt sniffled again. “I yelled at him,” he said quietly. “He’s been so good to me and I…I yelled at him. This isn’t his fault. I shouldn’t have--”
“He’ll get over it, Creamcake. Don’t worry. You have to concentrate on you. He knows that. He understood this wasn’t going to be easy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kurt walked slowly down the street, taking it all in, looking at things with a fresh set of eyes like Sue suggested. He couldn’t tell if it looked different or not, but he tried. He caught sight of a woman up ahead trying to carry a large box from the back of a delivery van through the front door of a store front. He watched her as he got closer, struggling with the box, almost dropping it. He hurried and reached her, just as she lost her grip.
“Here, let me help you,” he offered with a soft smile.
“I got it, white boy. Don’t be thinking I need help just because I’m a woman. I can do this,” she huffed indignantly as Kurt stood, awkwardly, holding the full weight of the heavy box. “Shit,” she muttered as she held open the door, “sorry, come on in.”
He carried the box into the store, setting it down amid all the others. He looked around curiously.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’ta snapped at you like that. I’m just still fuming over my guy Anthony and his stupid perfect timing, deciding he didn’t think right now was the time for us to get serious. I mean, come on, he had to pick this week to bail on me when I’ve got so much to do here? The prick.”
Kurt stood nervously, quiet, wondering what she was going on about. “What…what is this place?” he asked.
“This is gonna be Mercedes’ Café. And I’m Mercedes. I don’t know how I’m gonna open next week if I don’t have that man’s help in setting up. Damn,” she turned suddenly, picking up a box and taking it to the back part of the store, around a counter and into what looked like a large open kitchen. “What is wrong with men? Why do they have to give me so many issues, you know?”
“I’ve had issues with a few men myself,” Kurt added softly.
She eyed him closely for a moment. “They can be real assholes, can’t they?”
Kurt nodded, “Yes, they can.” Of course, he was thinking about Mr. Anderson. But then he thought about Dave and what he might be doing at that moment. He thought about his blow up from earlier and he frowned, lost in his thoughts. “And sometimes…they can be so sweet and kind, you don’t know what you’d do without them…”
She huffed, smirking knowingly. “And what’s his name?”
Kurt snapped out of his thoughts, looking down shyly and feeling his cheeks burn. “Um, Dave. He’s been very good to me.”
“Bet he has.”
There was an awkward moment of silence before Mercedes picked up another box and took it around the corner into the kitchen.
“So…this is going to be a restaurant?”
“Yes,” Mercedes came back around, smiling proudly. “I’ve always wanted to open up my own little deli-like café. It’s my dream. And now I’ve finally done it. It’s just…I really didn’t think I had to do it alone, you know. Not that Anthony was a partner in any of this. But damn, can’t the man hang around for a little heavy lifting when I need him?”
Kurt shrugged his shoulders, not sure if it was a real question or not.
“Anyway, yes. It’s gonna be lunch only….open 10:30 to 3pm Monday through Friday. The neighborhood has grown a lot, people moving back in and they need lunch…so, I’m gonna make it. And hopefully make a killing. But if I can’t open on time, it’ll turn into Mercedes’ Huge Mistake and Financial Blackhole. I have to make my first payment to the bank on the 15th and damn if I’m not terrified.”
“So, you’re a cook? You’re gonna make your own food here?” Kurt smiled, nodding eagerly.
“Yeah, always loved to cook. My mama and gran-mama taught me how since I was a little girl. I’ve got all their old recipes. Here, come here for a minute.” She walked back around the counter and opened a large refrigerator. She scooped something out of a container and spread it on a cracker and handed it back to Kurt. “Now tell me that’s not the best damn chicken salad you’ve ever tasted.”
Kurt took a bite, chewed, tasted, scrutinized, studied the flavor as the woman studied him. He swallowed, nodding his head slightly, “Is that…fennel?”
“Oh my god, white boy. That’s right. That’s my gran-mama’s secret recipe. You like it?”
“Yes, it’s very good. What type of bread will you serve it on?”
“Well, I’ll have fresh baked croissants, made right here. Or multi-grain loaf bread and rye I’ll get from my vendor. I think I’ll add a Kaiser roll too, for sloppy joes and pulled pork sandwiches.”
Kurt nodded appreciatively. “Very nice.”
She studied him. “You know how to cook?”
“Yes, ma’am, I love to cook. I’ve…taken classes,” he swallowed nervously, hoping the little fib wasn’t too bad. They technically were classes…at the facility.
“Come here, what do you think of this? She opened up another container from the fridge and poured something into a bowl, heating it up in the microwave and then handing it to Kurt with a spoon. “Tell me what you think. And be honest.”
It was some sort of soup. Chicken tortilla, perhaps. But it was all wrong. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows on his second spoonful.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s not wrong…” Kurt began, trying to be polite. “It’s just missing something…important.”
“What!? I’ve been working on that recipe for weeks. I had the best chicken tortilla soup at this restaurant last year and I just can’t get it right.”
Kurt could tell she was frustrated, he’d experienced the same frustration himself many times trying to get a recipe right. “What kind of cumin do you use?”
“Um, regular store-bought cumin. What do you mean?”
“You should try Indian Accents…only a few stores carry it. But it’s so much better. Spicier, more robust flavor. You could add tablespoons of the cheap stuff and you still wouldn’t get as close as you would with a pinch of theirs. Promise. If you use the right cumin, then you’d be able to cut back on the salt and chicken stock.”
Mercedes shook her head. “Oh my god, white boy. I love you. What’s your name?”
Kurt was shocked by her declaration of love…she didn’t even know him, how could she…? “Um, Kurt Hummel, very nice to meet you.”
“God, I could use your help,” she whined. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get this place up and running in a week. I can’t even unload the damn van by myself.” She shook her head as she walked past him and out onto the sidewalk. He followed her, reaching in behind her and taking out some boxes then following her back inside. “But I can’t afford to pay anybody what they’re worth…not until the money starts coming in. Damn, having someone like you…to taste-test and help with recipes. I mean it’s just sandwiches and soups, you know. It’s not that hard but no one will come back if it’s just mediocre. I want to wow people with my food.”
Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have a menu I could see?”
She handed him a hand-written menu, “I’m gonna get a big chalk board and write the day’s specials on it. Then I’ll have three or four other everyday favorites. I have a vendor I’ll get bags of chips from, really good kettle chips, you know…quality. And the soda fountain. Maybe I’ll make some homemade lemonade…see how that does.”
Kurt read through the menu items, “What about desserts, sweets?”
“Oh, god no! I’ll be killing myself with just this already. I mean, I love sweets…look at me,” she laughed and Kurt tried to laugh as well but felt rude doing it. “Maybe someday, when I get an extra set of hands or am able to hire someone, you know. But right now, it’ll just be soups and sandwiches.”
Kurt slid the menu across the counter and leaned back, musing. “10:30 to 3pm? Monday through Friday? That’s all?”
“Yes, I mean…I’ll get started about 10, I guess, maybe earlier if there’s more prep time I need. But those are the hours.”
He twitched his lips thoughtfully. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She eyed him inquisitively, wondering what he was thinking. Finally, a thought occurred to her, “What do you do, Kurt?”
Kurt smiled softly, thinking. What the hell did he do? “I’m actually…um, between jobs right now.” He hoped that wasn’t too large of a fib either.
She smiled knowingly, “Well, what a coincidence. I’m actually between prep cooks.”
Kurt smiled, still twitching his lips slightly as he mulled over what he wanted to say. “Ok, here’s my offer,” he had a fire in his eyes, feeling excited and enthusiastic about something for the first time in weeks. “I’ll work for you, on a volunteer basis for two weeks. That means you don’t have to pay me cause I know you can’t. But I’ll help you set up and I’ll work through your menu with you and I’ll wait and see how opening week goes.”
“Are you crazy? No one works for free, Kurt…”
“Yes, actually, Mercedes…many people work for free,” he deadpanned, not wanting to go into detail on his experience with the matter. “But here’s the deal. I get to make desserts. My own creations, my own recipes. Small single serving desserts that you can display in your case and if they’re a hit, they stay on the menu…and I stay on as a paid employee.”
Mercedes dropped her jaw, blinking once.
“What do you think?” he asked nervously, not sure if he should sweeten the deal somehow…or how he could. He really wanted to work for her.
“Are you kidding me? That’s…that’s the best damn offer I’ve ever had in my life!” She threw her arms around him suddenly, hugging him and bouncing happily as she cooed her delight. “Oh my god…Kurt! This is going to be so amazing!”
He smiled proudly, feeling the excitement suddenly grip his chest. He’d gotten himself a job. All on his own. He listened to Sue, he’d gone out and found what he wanted to do to please Kurt Hummel. He did it.