Fic: Waiting 'Round The Bend (3/?)
Title: Waiting ‘Round The Bend
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Finn Hudson, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones. (No OCs)
Pairings: Kinn. Implied Quinntana and Samcedes.
Word Count: 2.035
Story Summary: 1962, New York City. Finn Hudson had no idea what he was getting into when he moved into his new apartment.
Warnings: Racism, Homophobia.
Disclaimer: Glee and anything else you may recognize do not belong to me. Loosely based on the film adaption of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. The title comes from the song “Moon River”.
Previous
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
When Finn woke up the first thing he felt was the pounding in his head. He raised a hand to his eyes, trying to shield them from the light coming through the window. He felt very tempted to sleep off the worse of the hangover but the sound of talking in the living room made him drag himself off the bed.
His feet searched around for the slippers, sliding into them when they were found. He got up and walked into the living room.
“You’ve been taking care of yourself, right?”
Kurt was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone that he’d just gotten installed last week. He looked different than any time Finn had ever seen him.
Gone was the perfectly pressed suit and coiffed pompadour. The Kurt sitting on his couch was lacking in hair products, dressed in his slacks and a white under shirt. He looked at Finn when he entered and sent him a smile, holding up a hand, signaling him to wait.
“Yes, I know. I love you to, dad. Bye.” He put down the receiver and held the rotary dial phone in his lap, before looking at Finn with a soft smile. “Sorry. It’s just my dad’s always expecting a call at this time every week, and if I don’t call he gets worried.”
“It’s ok. I suppose dads are important.” He mumbled, the slightest sound making his head hurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow and Finn took that a sign to explain. “My dad died in the war. It’s just been me and my mom, since I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mom died when I was eight. It was just the both of us for a long time, too.” Kurt spoke softly, probably because of Finn’s hang over. In that moment he didn’t look like the almost intimidating free-spirit the taller man had always viewed him as. He couldn’t say he disliked this Kurt.
“So, what happened last night?” Finn asked after a moment of hesitation, sitting down on the couch next to Kurt. The other man bit his lip and avoided his eyes. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”
“Well…” Kurt started.
“Man, tell me!” He was growing anxious and Kurt huffed in annoyance at his interruption.
“I would if you’d let me.” Finn mumbled an apology. Kurt appeared sufficiently placated and continued. “You talked, we drank, after a while we came back down and I asked to crash here since I’m pretty sure my apartment looks like Berlin after the invasion.”
“That’s not so bad.” Finn decided.
“And then you kissed me.”
A beat.
“What?” Finn ran his hand through his hair, standing up quickly from the couch. “I can’t have!” He turned to look at Kurt, looking horrified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“Eh, I’ve had worse. Even if you should lay off the cologne a bit” Kurt wasn’t looking at him, just staring ahead.
“I kissed you.” Finn repeated slowly.
“Yes, we’ve established that.” Kurt had never sounded annoyed with him, not like Rachel or his boss, and Finn felt a sort of loss at hearing that familiar tone in his voice.
“But you’re a guy.” The man sitting on the couch sent him an unimpressed look. “Guys don’t kiss, that’s wrong.”
“And yet they keep doing it.” Kurt threw in and scoffed at Finn’s confused frown. “Oh, come on Finn. I live with a girl like Quinn, we’re both single and we’re not related. Most importantly, we’re not together in a romantic fashion. What does that imply?”
“What, so you’re…” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the interrupted phrase.
“Queer, yes.” Kurt responded calmly, fiddling with the telephone cord.
“But…” Finn was more confused than he’d ever been in his life. This couldn’t be possible. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Before Kurt. “This… This is all your fault. You did this to me!” He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but he was desperate to blame someone.
“Now, hold up right there!” Kurt replied, voice raised and indignant. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He stood up and Finn scrambled to get the table between them.
“I’m-”
“I am sick and tired of playing Theda Bara in my own damn life!” Kurt said with a thunderous expression, beating his fists against the table top. “You kissed me, mister! That means you wanted to. That means that no matter how much you accused me of having done something to you, you have those desires.” The last word was said scornfully and he quickly pulled his hands back from where they were still on the table. “And nobody can fix you, either.”
He turned around and marched to the door, throwing it open. He was passing through the threshold when he suddenly stopped. He turned around quickly with a frowned before walking quickly to the couch and picking up his jacket, shirt and tie.
“This suit was expensive.” He mumbled before walking out and slamming the door with enough force to rattle the walls.
~
“You are a life saver, Mike.” Quinn said, stretching to grab the glass someone had decided to put on the bookcase, right next to Kurt’s copy of The Once And Future King.
“I do my best.” The quiet man replied, holding several liquor bottles in his arms.
“Sometimes I’m shocked at how much people can drink.” She wiped a strand from her eyes and tucked behind her hair, huffing when it fell back. Mike looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“I couldn’t let you clean everything.” Quinn said, even as she laid the glasses in her hand on the table.
“Come on, you need rest. You’re the one person who had to be nice to everyone, last night.” He looked at her earnestly. “You’ve earned it.”
Quinn smiled at him before sitting on Kurt’s carefully selected couch. She found herself surrounded by bottles, glasses and cigarette stubs. She could feel her façade disappear, the same one she’d worn the same time she’d stepped on Sylvester’s stage. She looked at her hands and had the feeling they should be looking more haggard.
“Do you ever regret coming to New York, Mike?” She didn’t look up, staring at her hands as she clenched them in fist and slowly spread them again.
“Not really.” He looked at her questioningly, putting the whiskey bottle aside.
“I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed home, gotten married, become a perfect little Donna Reed housewife.” She remembers being fourteen and sneaking into the store to buy a box of Clairol, of going on diets. Wanting to be like her sister, 19 and with a baby on the way. The apple of her parents’ eyes.
“And why would you want to do that?” Mike sat in front of her, hands on his knees.
“I get so tired. I’m not stupid, I know what the people I work with say about me. The nightclub singer who got knocked up and now lives with a man, one who isn’t even the father.”
“Secretaries are scary things.” The comment prompts a laugh from Quinn. “And you shouldn’t think like that. Of course, sometimes you can fit in that category, but others…” Mike let the sentence hang, smiling at the blonde woman.
“You’re adorable. How come this city hasn’t eaten you alive yet?” He chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I’m a big boy.” Quinn nodded at the claim, before the sound of a door slamming traveled through the apartment. “What was that?”
The answer came a few seconds later, with Kurt flying through the door, holding on to half of his clothes with a death grip. He walked right past them, going into his room. A few muffled shouts reached Quinn and Mike, who looked at each other wide eyed.
Santana walked unsteadily out of the room, blinking sleep from her eyes, barefooted and dressed only in a silk shift.
“Yeah, yeah. Can it, Liberace. You know how grating I consider the sound of your voice.” She fell heavily on the couch next to Quinn and crossed her legs. “Refrain from using it. So, how was your night?” The black-haired woman asked, turning to Quinn with a smirk.
“Not as eventful as yours, I’m sure.”
“Oh, Q, if you were feeling bored you were more than welcome to join us.” Santana smirked wickedly as Quinn raised herself from the couch and rolled her eyes.
“I think I’m going to pass on that.” She said going in the kitchen. Santana nodded and turned to Mike, who had watching the interaction.
“That’s what she said last time.” She gave him a knowing nod when his eyes widened.
Kurt had taken that moment to walk behind the couch, shivering dramatically at Santana’s words.
“Hey, ladyface. Feeling calmer?” Santana asked, stretching her neck to see Kurt doing the knot on his tie.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Hi, Mike.” Mike waved back in greeting. “I’ll be at the club.” He walked out of the door, slamming it behind him.
“Was that Kurt?” Quinn came rushing out of the kitchen, decked in flowery apron and with a dishrag in her hands. “Rats.”
~
“Is anyone here?” Mercedes inched slowly into the club, closed for the day, dimly-lit and with the chairs up on the tables, the turntable playing, and the needle sliding on the black vinyl.
Yet darlin' I'd be twice as blue without you
It hurts but I come runnin' back for more
Sylvester’s was often regarded as the end of the road. The people who went there were beyond caring about how dark or light the person sitting next to them was or what insults were thrown at them by the owner. She was pretty sure that sooner or later she’d end up there too.
“In here.” Kurt Hummel’s voice came from behind the bar, where the lean man was standing, bottle of aged whiskey in hand. He shook it slightly in here direction. “Want some? It’s the good stuff.”
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Mercedes sat on the stool, watching as he expertly filled two fingers of the glass.
“What are you talking about? It’s…” He paused and raised his wrist, squinting at the watch. “3 o’clock. Are you sure you don’t want some?” She shook her head and looked at the counter, slowly sliding her fingers over the dark wood. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She said quickly. From Kurt’s face, he was less that convinced. “It’s just...” She stopped herself and shook her head, playing with her green coat’s cufflinks. “I’ve been thinking. You know when you meet someone and they’re great. The kind of person that would talk to someone who looks like me.”
“Sweetie, you’re beautiful. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” Kurt said earnestly, the whiskey glass forgotten on the counter. “Is there a guy? Is that it?”
“There might.” Kurt smiled brightly at her.
“’Cedes, that’s great. You deserve someone.” He continued. “What’s he like?”
“He’s tall, handsome, kind. He came to New York to look for work, we met when we were waiting for the bus, a few weeks ago.” She kept looking at her hands, and Kurt frowned when he heard her voice tremble.
“He sounds great, but there’s something you aren’t you telling me.” Mercedes slowly raised her head, staring him in the eyes.
“Kurt, he’s white.” The words came out quickly and Mercedes looked like he was searching for something in his face. He found himself unable to respond for a few seconds, enough time for the head to fall slightly.
Cause everybody's somebody's fool.
Everybody's somebody's plaything.
“Hey, none of that.” He reached for her hands and gripped them in his own. “What I said still stands. Any guy would be so lucky to have you. And… And this is New York. It’s not illegal, remember?” Mercedes nodded shakily.
He reached over the counter and kissed her on the forehead. Mercedes gave a small smile, and Kurt felt her hands clench under his.
And there are no exceptions to the rule.
Yes, everybody's somebody's fool.
Chapter Four
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Finn Hudson, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones. (No OCs)
Pairings: Kinn. Implied Quinntana and Samcedes.
Word Count: 2.035
Story Summary: 1962, New York City. Finn Hudson had no idea what he was getting into when he moved into his new apartment.
Warnings: Racism, Homophobia.
Disclaimer: Glee and anything else you may recognize do not belong to me. Loosely based on the film adaption of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. The title comes from the song “Moon River”.
Previous
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
When Finn woke up the first thing he felt was the pounding in his head. He raised a hand to his eyes, trying to shield them from the light coming through the window. He felt very tempted to sleep off the worse of the hangover but the sound of talking in the living room made him drag himself off the bed.
His feet searched around for the slippers, sliding into them when they were found. He got up and walked into the living room.
“You’ve been taking care of yourself, right?”
Kurt was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone that he’d just gotten installed last week. He looked different than any time Finn had ever seen him.
Gone was the perfectly pressed suit and coiffed pompadour. The Kurt sitting on his couch was lacking in hair products, dressed in his slacks and a white under shirt. He looked at Finn when he entered and sent him a smile, holding up a hand, signaling him to wait.
“Yes, I know. I love you to, dad. Bye.” He put down the receiver and held the rotary dial phone in his lap, before looking at Finn with a soft smile. “Sorry. It’s just my dad’s always expecting a call at this time every week, and if I don’t call he gets worried.”
“It’s ok. I suppose dads are important.” He mumbled, the slightest sound making his head hurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow and Finn took that a sign to explain. “My dad died in the war. It’s just been me and my mom, since I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mom died when I was eight. It was just the both of us for a long time, too.” Kurt spoke softly, probably because of Finn’s hang over. In that moment he didn’t look like the almost intimidating free-spirit the taller man had always viewed him as. He couldn’t say he disliked this Kurt.
“So, what happened last night?” Finn asked after a moment of hesitation, sitting down on the couch next to Kurt. The other man bit his lip and avoided his eyes. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”
“Well…” Kurt started.
“Man, tell me!” He was growing anxious and Kurt huffed in annoyance at his interruption.
“I would if you’d let me.” Finn mumbled an apology. Kurt appeared sufficiently placated and continued. “You talked, we drank, after a while we came back down and I asked to crash here since I’m pretty sure my apartment looks like Berlin after the invasion.”
“That’s not so bad.” Finn decided.
“And then you kissed me.”
A beat.
“What?” Finn ran his hand through his hair, standing up quickly from the couch. “I can’t have!” He turned to look at Kurt, looking horrified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“Eh, I’ve had worse. Even if you should lay off the cologne a bit” Kurt wasn’t looking at him, just staring ahead.
“I kissed you.” Finn repeated slowly.
“Yes, we’ve established that.” Kurt had never sounded annoyed with him, not like Rachel or his boss, and Finn felt a sort of loss at hearing that familiar tone in his voice.
“But you’re a guy.” The man sitting on the couch sent him an unimpressed look. “Guys don’t kiss, that’s wrong.”
“And yet they keep doing it.” Kurt threw in and scoffed at Finn’s confused frown. “Oh, come on Finn. I live with a girl like Quinn, we’re both single and we’re not related. Most importantly, we’re not together in a romantic fashion. What does that imply?”
“What, so you’re…” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the interrupted phrase.
“Queer, yes.” Kurt responded calmly, fiddling with the telephone cord.
“But…” Finn was more confused than he’d ever been in his life. This couldn’t be possible. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Before Kurt. “This… This is all your fault. You did this to me!” He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but he was desperate to blame someone.
“Now, hold up right there!” Kurt replied, voice raised and indignant. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He stood up and Finn scrambled to get the table between them.
“I’m-”
“I am sick and tired of playing Theda Bara in my own damn life!” Kurt said with a thunderous expression, beating his fists against the table top. “You kissed me, mister! That means you wanted to. That means that no matter how much you accused me of having done something to you, you have those desires.” The last word was said scornfully and he quickly pulled his hands back from where they were still on the table. “And nobody can fix you, either.”
He turned around and marched to the door, throwing it open. He was passing through the threshold when he suddenly stopped. He turned around quickly with a frowned before walking quickly to the couch and picking up his jacket, shirt and tie.
“This suit was expensive.” He mumbled before walking out and slamming the door with enough force to rattle the walls.
~
“You are a life saver, Mike.” Quinn said, stretching to grab the glass someone had decided to put on the bookcase, right next to Kurt’s copy of The Once And Future King.
“I do my best.” The quiet man replied, holding several liquor bottles in his arms.
“Sometimes I’m shocked at how much people can drink.” She wiped a strand from her eyes and tucked behind her hair, huffing when it fell back. Mike looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“I couldn’t let you clean everything.” Quinn said, even as she laid the glasses in her hand on the table.
“Come on, you need rest. You’re the one person who had to be nice to everyone, last night.” He looked at her earnestly. “You’ve earned it.”
Quinn smiled at him before sitting on Kurt’s carefully selected couch. She found herself surrounded by bottles, glasses and cigarette stubs. She could feel her façade disappear, the same one she’d worn the same time she’d stepped on Sylvester’s stage. She looked at her hands and had the feeling they should be looking more haggard.
“Do you ever regret coming to New York, Mike?” She didn’t look up, staring at her hands as she clenched them in fist and slowly spread them again.
“Not really.” He looked at her questioningly, putting the whiskey bottle aside.
“I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed home, gotten married, become a perfect little Donna Reed housewife.” She remembers being fourteen and sneaking into the store to buy a box of Clairol, of going on diets. Wanting to be like her sister, 19 and with a baby on the way. The apple of her parents’ eyes.
“And why would you want to do that?” Mike sat in front of her, hands on his knees.
“I get so tired. I’m not stupid, I know what the people I work with say about me. The nightclub singer who got knocked up and now lives with a man, one who isn’t even the father.”
“Secretaries are scary things.” The comment prompts a laugh from Quinn. “And you shouldn’t think like that. Of course, sometimes you can fit in that category, but others…” Mike let the sentence hang, smiling at the blonde woman.
“You’re adorable. How come this city hasn’t eaten you alive yet?” He chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I’m a big boy.” Quinn nodded at the claim, before the sound of a door slamming traveled through the apartment. “What was that?”
The answer came a few seconds later, with Kurt flying through the door, holding on to half of his clothes with a death grip. He walked right past them, going into his room. A few muffled shouts reached Quinn and Mike, who looked at each other wide eyed.
Santana walked unsteadily out of the room, blinking sleep from her eyes, barefooted and dressed only in a silk shift.
“Yeah, yeah. Can it, Liberace. You know how grating I consider the sound of your voice.” She fell heavily on the couch next to Quinn and crossed her legs. “Refrain from using it. So, how was your night?” The black-haired woman asked, turning to Quinn with a smirk.
“Not as eventful as yours, I’m sure.”
“Oh, Q, if you were feeling bored you were more than welcome to join us.” Santana smirked wickedly as Quinn raised herself from the couch and rolled her eyes.
“I think I’m going to pass on that.” She said going in the kitchen. Santana nodded and turned to Mike, who had watching the interaction.
“That’s what she said last time.” She gave him a knowing nod when his eyes widened.
Kurt had taken that moment to walk behind the couch, shivering dramatically at Santana’s words.
“Hey, ladyface. Feeling calmer?” Santana asked, stretching her neck to see Kurt doing the knot on his tie.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Hi, Mike.” Mike waved back in greeting. “I’ll be at the club.” He walked out of the door, slamming it behind him.
“Was that Kurt?” Quinn came rushing out of the kitchen, decked in flowery apron and with a dishrag in her hands. “Rats.”
~
“Is anyone here?” Mercedes inched slowly into the club, closed for the day, dimly-lit and with the chairs up on the tables, the turntable playing, and the needle sliding on the black vinyl.
Yet darlin' I'd be twice as blue without you
It hurts but I come runnin' back for more
Sylvester’s was often regarded as the end of the road. The people who went there were beyond caring about how dark or light the person sitting next to them was or what insults were thrown at them by the owner. She was pretty sure that sooner or later she’d end up there too.
“In here.” Kurt Hummel’s voice came from behind the bar, where the lean man was standing, bottle of aged whiskey in hand. He shook it slightly in here direction. “Want some? It’s the good stuff.”
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Mercedes sat on the stool, watching as he expertly filled two fingers of the glass.
“What are you talking about? It’s…” He paused and raised his wrist, squinting at the watch. “3 o’clock. Are you sure you don’t want some?” She shook her head and looked at the counter, slowly sliding her fingers over the dark wood. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She said quickly. From Kurt’s face, he was less that convinced. “It’s just...” She stopped herself and shook her head, playing with her green coat’s cufflinks. “I’ve been thinking. You know when you meet someone and they’re great. The kind of person that would talk to someone who looks like me.”
“Sweetie, you’re beautiful. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” Kurt said earnestly, the whiskey glass forgotten on the counter. “Is there a guy? Is that it?”
“There might.” Kurt smiled brightly at her.
“’Cedes, that’s great. You deserve someone.” He continued. “What’s he like?”
“He’s tall, handsome, kind. He came to New York to look for work, we met when we were waiting for the bus, a few weeks ago.” She kept looking at her hands, and Kurt frowned when he heard her voice tremble.
“He sounds great, but there’s something you aren’t you telling me.” Mercedes slowly raised her head, staring him in the eyes.
“Kurt, he’s white.” The words came out quickly and Mercedes looked like he was searching for something in his face. He found himself unable to respond for a few seconds, enough time for the head to fall slightly.
Cause everybody's somebody's fool.
Everybody's somebody's plaything.
“Hey, none of that.” He reached for her hands and gripped them in his own. “What I said still stands. Any guy would be so lucky to have you. And… And this is New York. It’s not illegal, remember?” Mercedes nodded shakily.
He reached over the counter and kissed her on the forehead. Mercedes gave a small smile, and Kurt felt her hands clench under his.
And there are no exceptions to the rule.
Yes, everybody's somebody's fool.
Chapter Four