Family
Title: Family
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Puck,
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to episode 6, just to be safe
Summary: A look at Puck's life
A/N: Um, this is a companion piece to Past Pains
You don’t really remember your dad. All you remember is walking up to your and seeing her sitting at the kitchen table crying. You were three at the time and have kept that a secret since then. Your mom would break down everyday after that. Years later and she still cried over him. You never cried you just sat with your mom, arms wrapped around her, telling her that everything will be okay. You’ve been doing this since the first time you found her like that.
~~~---~~~
You aren’t happy when Mr. Schue pairs you with Kurt for a stupid duet thing. You weren’t even paying attention when Mr. Schue explained it to you. All you know is that everyone is breaking off into pairs and Kurt is sitting by your side, looking disgusted, saying something about having to rehearse at your house.
“No.” You can’t have him come over. Today is the anniversary of your dad leaving, which means that your mom will be drunk, crying her eyes out over that jackass.
“Uh. I don’t want to, but we can’t go over to my house, and we need to practice.” He just rolls his eyes at you.
“Then we don’t practice.” You grab your bag and leave. You can’t put up with this shit, not today of all days.
“Puck.” You ignore him; you don’t really care what he has to say.
You all but run to your truck, throwing your bag in the bed, and climbing in. You need to get out of this place, go home and make sure your mother is still alive.
~~~---~~~
When you get home there’s a bottle of scotch on the kitchen table next to your mom’s head. You throw your bag on the ground as you walk over to the table. You try to take the bottle away but your mom just tightens her grip. “Come on mom, let it go.”
“No, I need to pour your dad a cup before he gets home or he’ll be mad.” She slurs, raising her head off the table.
“Mom. He’s not coming home. He’s never coming home.” You really just want to snatch the bottle from her hand, but you don’t want to hurt her more than your words probably already have.
Don’t say that about him!” She stands up and slaps you. Your cheek is burning, but you don’t react. You just let her hit you, hoping that it makes her feel better, she always said you looked just like your dad. “He only left because of you. He only left because of you and your stupid boyfriend!” She slaps you again. “You worthless brat!”
You look away from her, biting back the tears that want to fall. You won’t cry in front of her, you won’t cry over that bastard. “Maybe you should take a nap mom.” You aren’t going to yell at her, she doesn’t deserve it, no matter what she says to you.
She nods her head, you wrap your arm around her waist, taking the bottle of scotch from her hand, and leading her to her bedroom. You help her lay down, making sure you position her on her side with a bucket next to the bed. You brush the hair out of her face and kiss her cheek. “I love you mom, and I’m sorry he hurt you.” She mumbles something but you don’t her it as you leave, closing the door behind you. You make a mental note to check on her later, to make sure she’s okay.
You pour the rest of the bottle down the kitchen sink, not wanting her to find it and feel the need to finish it. You want to break the bottle, but think better of it. You take it out to the recycling bin. You sigh as you go get the ladder. You place it against the side of your house so that you can climb up on the roof.
You end up directly over where your mom’s room is, trying to relax. You rest your hand on your arms as you stare up at the clouds, trying to find shapes or pictures, like you use to do when you were a kid. Like when your dad would take you to the park, or when you had family picnics. You would lie down on the blanket, head resting on your mom’s lap, staring at the clouds. Your dad would be sitting behind your mom, his arms wrapped around her. He would describe a picture to you and you would try to find it in the clouds. That was the last time your family had been happy together. A week later, your dad was gone, no note, no goodbye.
You push yourself up so that you’re sitting, staring into the street. You hate having to put on a happy face in front of your mother and everyone at school all the time. When in truth, you’re dying inside. You want to scream, you want to destroy things but you can’t because you’re Noah Puckerman, caring son, football player, and all around tough guy. You never get to do what you want, you never get what you want. Well, not this time. You pull out your cell phone and call the one person you want more than anything, but were too afraid to grab. “Change my mind, get your ass over here.” You hang up before you get a response, hoping that he’ll care enough to come over.
~~~---~~~
He arrives about an hour later, he stands with his hands on his hips, staring up at you. “This had better be important.”
You can’t help but smirk at him. It had become a defense mechanism when someone seemed to be mad at you. “I thought you wanted to practice.”
“I do.” He rolls his eyes at you. “So, let’s go.”
You climb over to the latter, and work your way down. You don’t walk over to him, you just walk to your front door, and walk in, not even holding it open for him. You lead him into the kitchen telling him to sit and that you’ll be right back. He just nods and takes a seat at the kitchen table. You look him over before going to check on your mom.
She’s lying on her back when you open the door. You quickly rush into the room and place her on her side again. You check to make sure she’s still breathing and hasn’t choked on her own vomit yet. You sigh with relief when you realize she’s fine. You’re about to leave when you hear the door creak open. Your head shoots up, there in the doorway is Kurt, eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him.
“Get out of here!” With one quick look at your mom you head towards where Kurt is still standing. You shove him out of the room. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you to stay.”
“Was that your mom?” He just stares at you, and you swear you see pity in his eyes.
You growl as you grab onto his wrist and lead him to your room. You slam your door shut and order him to lie on the bed. He just looks at you, confused. “I said go lie on the bed.”
He does as you said, fear showing on his face. You hate that you’re scaring him, but fear is better than pity. You don’t need pity, you don’t want pity, especially not from Kurt. You thought that he would always look at you with hate, or maybe one day, look as if he cares.
You yank your t-shirt off as you make your way over to the bed. You crawl up the bed, staring down at him the whole time. You see no emotion on his face. You growl again and press your lips to his. You’re slightly surprised when he kisses you back. You lick his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, his tongue rushing out to dance with yours. You pull away only when you think you’re going to pass out. You stare down at the boy underneath you, breathing just as hard as you, cheeks flushed slightly, eyes darker than usual. The last time you had been this close to him was the day before your dad left. You remember your mom and dad’s words and push away from Kurt, sitting on the very edge of the bed. You can’t look at him without wanting to cry, and you don’t cry, not since you told Kurt you didn’t want to be his friend.
He wraps one arm around your shoulders, and places the other on top of your hand. You turn into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and for the first time in years, you cry.
~~~---~~~
It’s midnight the next time you go to check on your mom. She’s still sleeping, and thankfully, she’s still on her side. You lean against the doorframe and just watch her. You love your mom, you just wish she wouldn’t drink as much. She didn’t start drinking until your dad left. He was always the drinker, not her.
“She use to be really nice.” You just nod. “What happened?”
You don’t move, you just extend your arm out, and he walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You place a kiss to the top of his head. “He left.”
“Is that why you yelled at me?” He rests his head against your chest. “When we were kids?”
“Yeah. She yelled at me that morning, telling me that it was my fault he left because I was a boy in love with another boy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” You rub circles on his back. “Every year she does this. She drinks from the time I leave for school until the time I get home from school. Once I get home, she yells at me, hits me, anything to make herself feel better. I’ve learned to ignore it, to just shoulder it and act like nothing happened. After she’s gotten her anger out, I put her to bed and check on her every few hours.”
He doesn’t say anything, and you’re not surprised. If you were in his shoes you probably wouldn’t know what to say either. “Would she get mad if we started being friends again?”
“I don’t know.” You look down at him, your arms tighten around him. “But I think we should try this friendship thing again.”
“What if she doesn’t like it?”
You look over at your sleeping mother. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You wont. I’m older now, and more stubborn. I wont leave you alone just because you slam a door in my face.”
“Good to know.” You smile down at him. “We should go back to bed, so we don’t wake her up.”
You lead him out of her room, checking one last time to make sure she’s okay. With a smile, you close her door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob, not sure if you should leave her alone, but then Kurt places his hand on top of yours, turning it so that he can interlace his fingers with yours, and he’s leading you to your bedroom, like he did when you were little kids. You know your life can never go back to the way it use to, but at least with Kurt, you can pretend you’re a carefree kid again.
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Puck,
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to episode 6, just to be safe
Summary: A look at Puck's life
A/N: Um, this is a companion piece to Past Pains
You don’t really remember your dad. All you remember is walking up to your and seeing her sitting at the kitchen table crying. You were three at the time and have kept that a secret since then. Your mom would break down everyday after that. Years later and she still cried over him. You never cried you just sat with your mom, arms wrapped around her, telling her that everything will be okay. You’ve been doing this since the first time you found her like that.
~~~---~~~
You aren’t happy when Mr. Schue pairs you with Kurt for a stupid duet thing. You weren’t even paying attention when Mr. Schue explained it to you. All you know is that everyone is breaking off into pairs and Kurt is sitting by your side, looking disgusted, saying something about having to rehearse at your house.
“No.” You can’t have him come over. Today is the anniversary of your dad leaving, which means that your mom will be drunk, crying her eyes out over that jackass.
“Uh. I don’t want to, but we can’t go over to my house, and we need to practice.” He just rolls his eyes at you.
“Then we don’t practice.” You grab your bag and leave. You can’t put up with this shit, not today of all days.
“Puck.” You ignore him; you don’t really care what he has to say.
You all but run to your truck, throwing your bag in the bed, and climbing in. You need to get out of this place, go home and make sure your mother is still alive.
~~~---~~~
When you get home there’s a bottle of scotch on the kitchen table next to your mom’s head. You throw your bag on the ground as you walk over to the table. You try to take the bottle away but your mom just tightens her grip. “Come on mom, let it go.”
“No, I need to pour your dad a cup before he gets home or he’ll be mad.” She slurs, raising her head off the table.
“Mom. He’s not coming home. He’s never coming home.” You really just want to snatch the bottle from her hand, but you don’t want to hurt her more than your words probably already have.
Don’t say that about him!” She stands up and slaps you. Your cheek is burning, but you don’t react. You just let her hit you, hoping that it makes her feel better, she always said you looked just like your dad. “He only left because of you. He only left because of you and your stupid boyfriend!” She slaps you again. “You worthless brat!”
You look away from her, biting back the tears that want to fall. You won’t cry in front of her, you won’t cry over that bastard. “Maybe you should take a nap mom.” You aren’t going to yell at her, she doesn’t deserve it, no matter what she says to you.
She nods her head, you wrap your arm around her waist, taking the bottle of scotch from her hand, and leading her to her bedroom. You help her lay down, making sure you position her on her side with a bucket next to the bed. You brush the hair out of her face and kiss her cheek. “I love you mom, and I’m sorry he hurt you.” She mumbles something but you don’t her it as you leave, closing the door behind you. You make a mental note to check on her later, to make sure she’s okay.
You pour the rest of the bottle down the kitchen sink, not wanting her to find it and feel the need to finish it. You want to break the bottle, but think better of it. You take it out to the recycling bin. You sigh as you go get the ladder. You place it against the side of your house so that you can climb up on the roof.
You end up directly over where your mom’s room is, trying to relax. You rest your hand on your arms as you stare up at the clouds, trying to find shapes or pictures, like you use to do when you were a kid. Like when your dad would take you to the park, or when you had family picnics. You would lie down on the blanket, head resting on your mom’s lap, staring at the clouds. Your dad would be sitting behind your mom, his arms wrapped around her. He would describe a picture to you and you would try to find it in the clouds. That was the last time your family had been happy together. A week later, your dad was gone, no note, no goodbye.
You push yourself up so that you’re sitting, staring into the street. You hate having to put on a happy face in front of your mother and everyone at school all the time. When in truth, you’re dying inside. You want to scream, you want to destroy things but you can’t because you’re Noah Puckerman, caring son, football player, and all around tough guy. You never get to do what you want, you never get what you want. Well, not this time. You pull out your cell phone and call the one person you want more than anything, but were too afraid to grab. “Change my mind, get your ass over here.” You hang up before you get a response, hoping that he’ll care enough to come over.
~~~---~~~
He arrives about an hour later, he stands with his hands on his hips, staring up at you. “This had better be important.”
You can’t help but smirk at him. It had become a defense mechanism when someone seemed to be mad at you. “I thought you wanted to practice.”
“I do.” He rolls his eyes at you. “So, let’s go.”
You climb over to the latter, and work your way down. You don’t walk over to him, you just walk to your front door, and walk in, not even holding it open for him. You lead him into the kitchen telling him to sit and that you’ll be right back. He just nods and takes a seat at the kitchen table. You look him over before going to check on your mom.
She’s lying on her back when you open the door. You quickly rush into the room and place her on her side again. You check to make sure she’s still breathing and hasn’t choked on her own vomit yet. You sigh with relief when you realize she’s fine. You’re about to leave when you hear the door creak open. Your head shoots up, there in the doorway is Kurt, eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him.
“Get out of here!” With one quick look at your mom you head towards where Kurt is still standing. You shove him out of the room. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you to stay.”
“Was that your mom?” He just stares at you, and you swear you see pity in his eyes.
You growl as you grab onto his wrist and lead him to your room. You slam your door shut and order him to lie on the bed. He just looks at you, confused. “I said go lie on the bed.”
He does as you said, fear showing on his face. You hate that you’re scaring him, but fear is better than pity. You don’t need pity, you don’t want pity, especially not from Kurt. You thought that he would always look at you with hate, or maybe one day, look as if he cares.
You yank your t-shirt off as you make your way over to the bed. You crawl up the bed, staring down at him the whole time. You see no emotion on his face. You growl again and press your lips to his. You’re slightly surprised when he kisses you back. You lick his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, his tongue rushing out to dance with yours. You pull away only when you think you’re going to pass out. You stare down at the boy underneath you, breathing just as hard as you, cheeks flushed slightly, eyes darker than usual. The last time you had been this close to him was the day before your dad left. You remember your mom and dad’s words and push away from Kurt, sitting on the very edge of the bed. You can’t look at him without wanting to cry, and you don’t cry, not since you told Kurt you didn’t want to be his friend.
He wraps one arm around your shoulders, and places the other on top of your hand. You turn into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and for the first time in years, you cry.
~~~---~~~
It’s midnight the next time you go to check on your mom. She’s still sleeping, and thankfully, she’s still on her side. You lean against the doorframe and just watch her. You love your mom, you just wish she wouldn’t drink as much. She didn’t start drinking until your dad left. He was always the drinker, not her.
“She use to be really nice.” You just nod. “What happened?”
You don’t move, you just extend your arm out, and he walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You place a kiss to the top of his head. “He left.”
“Is that why you yelled at me?” He rests his head against your chest. “When we were kids?”
“Yeah. She yelled at me that morning, telling me that it was my fault he left because I was a boy in love with another boy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” You rub circles on his back. “Every year she does this. She drinks from the time I leave for school until the time I get home from school. Once I get home, she yells at me, hits me, anything to make herself feel better. I’ve learned to ignore it, to just shoulder it and act like nothing happened. After she’s gotten her anger out, I put her to bed and check on her every few hours.”
He doesn’t say anything, and you’re not surprised. If you were in his shoes you probably wouldn’t know what to say either. “Would she get mad if we started being friends again?”
“I don’t know.” You look down at him, your arms tighten around him. “But I think we should try this friendship thing again.”
“What if she doesn’t like it?”
You look over at your sleeping mother. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You wont. I’m older now, and more stubborn. I wont leave you alone just because you slam a door in my face.”
“Good to know.” You smile down at him. “We should go back to bed, so we don’t wake her up.”
You lead him out of her room, checking one last time to make sure she’s okay. With a smile, you close her door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob, not sure if you should leave her alone, but then Kurt places his hand on top of yours, turning it so that he can interlace his fingers with yours, and he’s leading you to your bedroom, like he did when you were little kids. You know your life can never go back to the way it use to, but at least with Kurt, you can pretend you’re a carefree kid again.