Something To Sleep To [11/?]
Title: Something To Sleep To
Chapter: 11/?
Author: wishof_wings
Betas: Becky & Therese
Rating: R
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: 2300
Summary: What started as a volunteer gig at Lima Memorial is slowly turning into a fairy tale for Kurt Hummel. Except Kurt is pretty doubtful that a kiss is going to wake his Prince Charming from his coma.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU, homophobia related violence
Author's Notes: I think I just need to stop giving myself deadlines. Right? Anyways, you can see the pajamas I reference in this chapter right here. Also, new journal colors. If they like make it impossible/difficult to read please tell me, kay? <3 Enjoy! Might I also warn insanely in advance that the next chapter is a doozy?
Go back to the beginning.
Kurt wakes up Saturday morning feeling conflicted. Conflicted and also insanely groggy.
After getting home the night before, he’d hardly made it through a small dinner and his nightly routine before falling into bed. He’d briefly let Mercedes know that yes, he was alive, before he was unconscious again.
He doesn’t really understand it when people say they have to “sleep on something.” When Kurt wakes up, he is no more decided on what he plans to do about the whole Burt-and-Carole situation than he was the day before. It’s not as if his brain works on those problems while he dreams, at least not to his memory.
He vaguely remembers a phantom presence of fingers laced with his before the thought is swept away with the rest of his sleep lethargy in the hot water of his morning shower.
Shopping is normally an activity that has Kurt in a flurry of activity, but today he’s less hurricane and more… Aggravated tropical storm.
First, there’s the fact that he’s not even sure he wants to continue to encourage his father’s relationship. Kurt had been the driving force behind it, that much is certain, but even he realizes that it’s out of his hands now. Even if Kurt does stop being an active participant, he knows it won’t change anything.
So what does he do? Act hostile towards Carole?
Except that she’s Blaine nurse, so then what?
He styles his hair a bit more ferociously than he intends and sighs heavily, having to completely redo it.
No, that isn’t an option. Besides, his dad would get upset with him. Burt values Kurt’s opinion, but that only goes so far. People Burt and Carole’s age know what they want, bratty teenagers aside.
His dad is sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in his robe and drinking coffee, when Kurt comes downstairs. Burt gives a small nod as he sips his coffee, paper open on the table, and Kurt smiles back. He eyes the empty plate in front of his father suspiciously, but lets it go. Even he can’t monitor his father every waking moment of every day.
“Where are you going today?” Burt asks as Kurt settles at the table with a yogurt.
Kurt wishes he could say the hospital. He feels that weird tug that’s there these days, wanting him to go see Blaine. Is he alright? Is he lonely? Did he wake up? But there’s still the icy fear settled at the base of his spine from his last Saturday visit. What if Blaine’s mother finds him again? Then what will happen? But the hospital isn’t even an option, not today.
“Carole and I have a date,” he says nonchalantly, peeling back the lid of his yogurt before glancing up at his dad. Burt has set his coffee down and is looking at him strangely.
“Is that right?”
Kurt hums in the affirmative, dipping a spoon into his breakfast.
“We’re going shopping.”
He can’t not look at his dad’s face. The way Burt’s lips pull up slightly at the corners and the shine in his eye. Kurt recognizes that look. It’s one he’s seen there before. His dad is proud of him and guilt drops like a stone in Kurt’s stomach.
Burt doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at Kurt as he eats his yogurt. His dad eventually stands up, pausing as he passes Kurt’s chair, and sets a heavy hand on his shoulder.
There are still no words, but Kurt can practically feel the thank you and you’re a good son reverberate down to his wingtips.
He’s glad that his dad can’t see his face, or all the remorse there.
The Lima Mall is far from impressive. It’s department stores and nationwide chains and everything is off the rack. Kurt only ever comes here with Mercedes and he hasn’t purchased a single thing since his dad let him start handling his own shopping. But Carole doesn’t care what the labels say and, really, anything is better than the acid wash combinations he’s so frequently seen her in.
It’s more awkward than Kurt would have liked at first. His dad’s face seems ingrained behind his eyelids and Carole’s affectionate smile and apparent need for Kurt’s approval isn’t making the whole thing easier.
I’m debating ruining your happiness and you can’t stop talking about how excited you are.
It wasn’t until they’d parked and Carole had set her hand on his arm that anything had changed. Honey, are you okay? Kurt had felt like he would burst into tears and he’d begun tipping on his knifepoint.
Tired. She hadn’t bought it, but maybe mothers never did. Mothers. Moms. Weren’t they supposed to have special powers?
After that he thaws, looping Carole’s arm through his and reveling in the fact that he gets to wear his own clothing someplace other than the hospital. As they walk by stores-Kurt, should we go in here? No, okay.-he takes the opportunity to educate Carole.
Kurt explains in detail his ideas for her hair-It will be so much easier to manage while working, too-and the types of color palettes she should aim for to compliment her skin tone. The best thing is that Carole is actively listening to him. She asks questions when she doesn’t understand what he’s saying, and makes little comments of her own. Not only that, but eventually she’s looking at clothing in the store windows and telling Kurt the pros and cons of them.
It’s strange for him. When he shops with Mercedes he practically shops for Mercedes, not that he minds. But with Carole, she actually wants to learn these things. It will be at least three more mall trips before he lets her buy anything on her own, but she’s making progress.
They’re in Macy’s when Carole insists they look at the men’s clothing. Kurt practically recoils, eyes widening in horror when Carole laughs.
“I thought maybe we could pick out something for your dad.” There’s a knowing sparkle in her eye and Kurt feels himself relax.
“That sounds like a great idea.”
It’s when they’re passing the sleepwear department that Kurt pauses, something catching his attention. When Carole is five steps in front of him she turns, following his line of sight.
“Does your dad need pajamas?”
Kurt blinks, turning to look at her. “What?” She gestures at the rather sparse gathering of men’s pajamas with an open hand. “Oh, no, I just.”
He turns again, taking a few steps towards the display. They’re at least on hangers and not wrapped in tacky shrink plastic, and his fingers are drawn to the sleeve of a sleep shirt. Cotton, a little stiff, but nothing a wash wouldn’t fix. They’re an insanely subtle grey pinstripe and-he checks the tag-Ralph Lauren. Not ideal, but at least not generic.
“Those are nice.” Kurt’s surprised he doesn’t fall into the clothing rack when Carole appears at his elbow. He looks at her as if she just caught him committing some sort of crime.
“I, well, for Macy’s.” His face feels hot and he really hopes that moms have superhero powers thing turns out to be insanely false. Carole reaches out and touches his arm. Dammit.
“I think they’d look very nice on Blaine, personally.” The comment is made so casually Kurt’s body almost jerks with shock. There’s no way-Carole can’t read minds or anything. Kurt just nods his head slightly, lips folded together to keep him from saying anything.
“You’ve become quite close to him, haven’t you?”
Kurt blinks rapidly, swallowing, before letting go of the pajama sleeve.
“Are you hungry?” His voice comes out higher than he means it to, but Carole just smiles.
“Actually I’ve been craving a pretzel since we passed Auntie Anne’s. I haven’t had one of those in years.”
They leave Macy’s and the pajamas, and Kurt quietly sighs in relief. That was close.
The food court is bustling with activity, which isn’t unusual for a Saturday afternoon. There isn’t a lot to do in Lima and the mall is one of the many teenage haunts. It makes Kurt a little more cautious, a little more likely to glance around, feeling embarrassed when his uneasy eyes catch Carole’s gaze more than once.
They find a table tucked into the corner, with their pretzels (Carole had gone cinnamon, but Kurt preferred classic) and lemonades. It’s been so long since Kurt has done something like this. It’s so simple, eating a pretzel at a mall, and the normality of it prickles across his skin.
“Are you going to get them?”
Carole is a neat eater. She probably grabbed five times as many napkins as they would need, but she wipes her fingers with them instead of licking the cinnamon sugar away. It almost makes Kurt nod his head in approval.
“I’m sorry?”
“The pajamas. You should get them for him.”
Kurt practically chokes on his lemonade, and Carole leans across the table to pat him on the back. It should be awkward, but she does it with such ease that it’s hard to think it’s anything but normal. At least, normal for her. Her palm is strangely warm and comforting through the back of his vest.
“I wasn’t-”
“Kurt.” Her voice is clipped and laced with an authority he’s never heard there before, which draws his eyes up in shock. She’s staring at them with a raised eyebrow that only portrays one idea-I’m waiting. “You know,” she says, tearing her pretzel into smaller pieces. “When you invited me to go shopping with you, I… Thought it was an opportunity. For us. To… Become friends.”
She looks at him again and there is that nervous need again. Kurt feels like his entire mood shifts and he smiles slightly.
He feels it, the need to tip one way or another. Carole or no Carole.
“That’s… I’d. Yes, we can be friends.”
Carole’s hand closes around his and he stares at it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen before looking up at her again.
“Good.” She smiles, and Kurt can’t help but smile back. Even though he feels off balance, he generally likes Carole. Over the last two weeks, she’s become more than Finn Hudson’s mother and Blaine’s nurse. She’s just Carole now.
“So, as your friend, Kurt.” Uh oh. Her voice adopts that no-nonsense tone again and she pauses only to take a sip of lemonade. “You can talk to me, you know.” Her face softens then so that she’s smiling.
“I don’t have anything to talk about,” Kurt bites out, dusting some of the salt from his pretzel. Why do they always put so much on these things?
Carole sighs, long and loud, and Kurt can’t help but narrow his eyes when he looks back up at her.
“Well, if you don’t have anything to say, I do.” She sits up a bit straighter in her chair, her hand closing a bit more firmly around Kurt’s own. “I think that what you’re doing for Blaine is amazing.” His eyes widen as Carole just smiles at him earnestly. “You didn’t know, of course, the situation with his parents when you started visiting him but…” She shrugs just slightly, seemingly unable to express whatever words are shining in her expressive eyes.
“I’m not supposed to get too attached to patients, but Blaine. He’s around your age, around Finn’s age, and I can’t help but feel motherly towards him. Before you started visiting, I would spend as much time as I could in that room just so he wouldn’t be alone.” Both of her hands are holding Kurt’s now, their pretzels forgotten as Carole talks.
“You’ve just brought so much life and color, Kurt, and I think that’s just a part of who you are. And I personally believe that you being there… It’s helping Blaine.”
Kurt’s throat feels thick as he swallows, glancing away from her finally even though the rest of his body still feels frozen.
“I-” He stops, swallowing again, and tries to get his mouth to cooperate. “Is it weird?” He glances back at Carole uneasily but is only met with more soft smiles.
“I think it’s lovely. You know, connections between people happen all the time in so many different ways. I’m old-” Kurt scoffs and Carole blushes and rolls her eyes, “-I’m old and I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, Kurt. If it’s important to you, who has the right to take it away?”
Kurt looks down at the table, where his hand is still pressed between Carole’s and beginning to get grossly warm. His fingers twitch and Carole seems to take it as a sign, drawing back and plopping a piece of pretzel in her mouth.
“I think I’ll get them for him,” Kurt admits quietly, his hand now curling around his sweating lemonade. Carole just gives a nod and then offers him a piece of her cinnamon pretzel (which is unsurprisingly delicious).
It’s later, when Kurt has bustled Carole off to the salon and is sitting nearby to supervise all hair decisions, that Kurt finally tips.
He can make it work. Carole is an amazing woman and his dad deserves her. They deserve each other. Besides, Kurt has blood on his side and that has to count for something with his dad, right?
Kurt fingers the Macy’s bag sitting beside him pensively, reaching in and stroking a finger along the smooth cotton of the pajamas. He glances up at Carole in time to share a glance with her as her hairdresser gestures wildly with his hands. It’s almost like a silent conversation, and Kurt mouths an I know as Carole tries her hardest not to laugh.
He settles back with his magazine and smiles. He’d never thought he’d come out of this with a friend like Carole.
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