Fic: Higher Education, 11/?
Title: Higher Education, 11/?
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for moderate sexual content
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Romance, Angst
Warning: AU.
Spoilers: Nope
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Fox
Author Notes: A direct follow-up to part 10 (as in, they take place the same night), so if you haven't read part 10 yet, you're going to want to. There's talky!Kurt in this one.
Summary: The many things Kurt does to cope with things he doesn't want to talk about
Word Count: 1,614
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face under the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
I'm sure you'll go one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
-Brandi Carlile
Kurt felt like a hypocrite. He’d been so good at drawing Noah out of himself, back at the beginning, and he’d watched with pride as Noah grew in his own self-awareness. He’d listened and offered thoughts and subtle advice, and held Noah when he cried, when he talked about the things that used to make him mad or scared. Kurt half-believed that if he just kept listening to Noah, Noah wouldn’t notice that Kurt actually did very little talking about himself.
It had been surprisingly easy, really. Talk a little about the bullying, about losing his mom, about coming out and dating Blaine, and learning how to listen to his heart. Share just enough about the visibly difficult things, and just keep going. It was the internally difficult things that Kurt didn’t know how to talk about. He’d never talked about them. That was the bad thing about masks, he supposed; when they were well-made and well-fitting, and self-imposed on a daily basis, you learned many things. During high school, Kurt had become a master at making it through the school day. He knew the best ways to clamp down on the knot of emotions in his stomach, how to school ‘nobody knows I’m dying inside’ under a sunny veneer of ‘I’m fabulous!’ and how to get through a day in the world before going home and collapsing. Back then, he liked to soothe himself with fashion magazines and Broadway cast albums. Now, he preferred baking. The motions of measuring and mixing, the warmth of the oven, the scents that made him think of safety and belonging.
He’d slept fitfully after he and Noah had finally finished dinner (and ice cream with strawberries). Usually the warmth of Noah’s arms around him was enough to lull him to sleep, but he’d tossed and turned for the better part of three hours before deciding that he’d be better off getting up. He didn’t want to wake Noah, and he needed to do something to soothe the slightly raw feeling of his nerves and the dull ache in his head. He pulled out his favorite cookbook, a bowl from the set of brightly colored nesting bowls by the stove, and scrounged for ingredients. There was a bag of mixed berries in the freezer, and enough butter and eggs for a coffee cake. Kurt turned the under-counter radio to the late-night call-in show that favored sappy ‘80’s love songs, and hummed along under his breath while he worked. When the batter was mixed and the oven preheated, he sprinkled streusel topping in the bottom of the bundt pan and poured half the batter over it. He swirled in a layer of berries, then the rest of the batter. Put the pan in the over and set the timer, and then got to work on the dishes. That was where Noah found him at 2 am: up to his elbows in soapy water, lost in the motions of scrub, rinse, and stack as the smell of warm fruit and baking sugar seeped through the apartment.
He hadn’t heard Noah over the running water, but didn’t startle when he felt a hand on his back.
“Rough night?” Noah’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It happens.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Not since I’ve moved to Boston, it hasn’t.” Noah touched his arm, told him “Leave the dishes, I’ll finish up later. Come sit with me?”
“Okay.” He let Noah lead him to the couch and waited until Noah had settled in before tucking himself into the curve of Noah’s body.
“What’s going on, baby?”
“I just couldn’t sleep. Talking earlier, it kind of . . .” He didn’t know what to say, so he let his thoughts sit unfinished in the night.
“Kind of what?”
“It’s like, I had put so much of that stuff, those feelings, in the past. It’s not like I forgot they existed, I just forgot what they felt like, if that makes any sense.”
“It does. Make sense. The dam kind of opened, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”
“I’m not very good at it.”
“At talking?”
“Yeah. I’m a really good listener, though.”
“I’d noticed,” Noah said, kissing the side of his neck. “Don’t ever feel like you have to hide from me. You know all my secrets. I’m safe with you, and you can be safe with me.”
“I know that in my head, but that doesn’t make it easy.”
“Oh, baby. It’s not supposed to be easy. That’s why it sucks so much.”
“That didn’t help.”
Noah was silent for a moment, then “What’s loudest thought in your head right now?”
“That if people knew what I was really feeling, they wouldn’t like me.”
“Try again.”
“It’s true.”
“The sentiment is true, but you’re holding back, K. I see you, too, you know. And I see more than you think I do.”
“Okay.” Kurt took a deep breath, and swallowed around the fear. “If you knew what went on in my head, you wouldn’t love me.”
“Oh, baby, no. Never think that. Just tell me, what is going on in that head of yours?”
“It’s not constant. And sometimes it’s different things. But I get sad, or scared, and I just hide it. I learned how to do it with the bullies, and after my mom died. Every day that I went to school afraid, or thought about coming out to my dad. You know how people always ask you how you’re doing and you tell them things are great or whatever?” He felt Noah’s nod against his shoulder. “Well, I learned to pretend because people don’t want to hear that you miss your mom, or you don’t know what to do about the crush on the high school boy with the piano lesson after yours, or you’re hoping to get through the day without having to change your clothes three times before lunch. Putting on that happy persona was just part of my daily routine. It’s exhausting.”
“And now it’s just a habit?”
“Pretty much.”
So, what are you feeling right now?”
“Kind of adrift. I’m sad for that boy, and a little unsure of myself because I feel like I’ve let my biggest secret out into the world. I’m afraid you’re going to decide that I’m too much work.” Noah’s arms tightened around him.
“You’re never going to be too much work. I love you. I love all of you. That includes your secrets, and your feelings. And even your different faces you put on for the world. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because all of it influenced who you are today. This is the you that I love, and if you hadn’t had those experiences and feelings, if you hadn’t learned to cope the best way you knew how, you’d be a totally different you. If that were the case, chances are that we wouldn’t be here together.”
“That makes sense.”
“I know what it feels like, to hide. You’ve gotten me talking more, but there are still times when I just can’t even do that.”
Kurt thought about that, about the days Noah would come home from work or class and spend an hour strumming his guitar, or head almost right back outside for a run or a pickup basketball game at the park down the street. The nights he would come to bed hungry and wanting, when Kurt would let him touch and taste and fill until he was satisfied and sleepy. “We each manage in our own way, I guess.”
“We do. But, K?”
“Yeah.”
“We need to not close each other out so much. Make me a deal?”
“What kind of a deal?”
“That we won’t hide so much. If it’s a really bad day, just say ‘Today was hard, can we talk?’ or ‘Today was hard but I don’t want to talk’.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Good.”
They lay wrapped in silence and each other then, until the timer on the oven went off. Kurt pulled himself off the couch and reached a hand out to help Noah up.
“Coffee cake?”
“No. Just take it out, and come back to bed with me.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. Come back to bed. Let me help you sleep.”
“I don’t . . . I feel too fragile.”
“You’re not fragile, K. Please.”
Kurt gave in to the pleading in Noah’s voice. Noah waited while he put the coffee cake on a cooling rack and turned off oven, radio, and kitchen lights. He followed Noah back to the bedroom and gave himself over to soft mouth, strong hands, Noah’s body covering his, pressing him into the mattress. He relaxed into the hard push of Noah inside of him, felt Noah’s breath heavy and hard against his chest.
“Open your eyes,” Noah managed to gasp. “Trust me.”
Kurt did, looking up into Noah’s face. His eyes were full of love, of gentleness mixed with desire, of strength and tenderness. Kurt lost himself then, his body flooding with an odd combination of pleasure and sadness. He broke, crying and empty, into Noah’s arms.
“It’s okay,” Noah soothed him, running a thumb over his cheek to brush away tears. “You’re safe with me. Sleep now.”
He surrendered to the warmth of Noah’s skin against his own, the gentle weight of Noah’s arms around him, the bright sting of the air conditioner cooling his sweat-slick skin. “Thank you,” he mumbled into his pillow.
The last thing he heard before the world was lost to him was Noah’s voice in his ear telling him I’m not going anywhere.