Glee/SBL Crossover fic--Debris (2/10)
Title: Debris
Glee/Struck By Lightning crossover
Summary: It's not just collisions that scatter debris. Sometimes things just get
torn apart and they leave bits of themselves behind; and there's no way to get
everything back.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,663
A/N: We get to meet Carson and we get some Klaine in this part. Whooo!
Chapter 1
Chapter Two
Being on your figurative death bed had its advantages, namely everyone around you being incredibly accommodating and doting. If he wasn't so loaded up with pain killers he'd take more advantage of it. As it was, he couldn't even properly articulate his displeasure with the food. Mostly he made sad faces and gestured around. His mother was next to useless, she was a laugh if nothing else, but mostly she just sat next to his bed and cried. It was semi-frustrating, waking up periodically to be greeted by the sounds of nasal crying, but better than waking up to no one at all.
His only other visitor was Malerie, who'd come with a self made kitten poster. It was taped up to the television stand. He couldn't make out everything on it but he thought it was suppose to be a cat made out of cats. One was never really sure with Malerie. She had stood at the end of his bed looking vacant and unsettled for three whole minutes until he'd shifted and given her a glimpse of his scar. It was a long, sprawling set of dark pink burns that wound down his body from shoulder to hip, from his wrists, over his right peck, across his ribs and ending with a curling flourish at the beginning of his thigh. The burns looked like unearthed veins or an artistic attempt at a tree root tattoo. It made him look like a hipster. He wished he could have gotten something more devilish out of it, something with character that would make people desperate for a story. Not that he'd give it, but still. He'd survived a lightning strike and all he had to show for it was a drug induced slur and a pseudo-tattoo.
Malerie thought it was attractive and wanted to take photos for the school paper. He was half tempted to let her run it. The low brow heathens would probably take an interest in the paper for the first time in, well ever, because nothing sold like disaster. He dismissed the thought soon after. As much as he wanted to rouse interest in the school paper, he didn't want it to be because he was some kind of freak show statistic. The only person he really wanted to share his story with wasn't even in the same damn state. His brother, his two minute older brother, Kurt was not so safely tucked away in Lima, Ohio with no real way to contact him. His phone had gotten fried in the storm and the hospital phone was about a foot away from his reach. Trying to get out of bed made his body feel like it was burning from the inside out and had him dizzy and sick with pain in a matter of seconds. Borrowing a phone was out of the question since he would have to either ask his mother or Malerie. He could ask one of the nurses for help but they had this annoying habit of only showing up when he was either unconscious or so drugged up he couldn't speak.
When it happened his life didn't flash before his eyes. He didn't feel regret or anger or the hand of God. He just felt pain, white hot searing pain tearing through his body with a vengeance. It was when he woke up that he thought about everything. His mind tried to work a million miles a minute but couldn't. His thoughts were jumbled up and tripping over each other, overlapping and making zero sense. Kurt was the only consistent thing. He knew it was Kurt's voice in his head rather than his own thoughts. He wanted Kurt. They had to talk about this, or see each other, or hear each other breathe, something. Near death experiences weren't something he was familiar with but if the unabashed sobbing at three in the morning were any indication, Kurt was. He just didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know if his arm would ever move right again or if his brain would crap out on him. He didn't know if he'd have heart problems or nerve damage. He was scared. Honestly fucking scared and he just wanted to talk to his brother about it.
If he wanted to talk to Kurt any time soon he'd have to play it smart. His mom was already on edge because of Neal's pending wedding. If it seemed too much like he wanted Kurt over her she'd go on a self destructive drinking binge and become completely useless. And she'd do everything in her power to keep him from talking to Kurt for at least a month. The best way to go about it would have to be subtlety. He'd have to pretend to call out for Kurt in a drug induced haze. That way he can't be blamed for bringing it up and she can take credit for the idea. Once she feels like she can be useful she'll be more agreeable. It had to work. If it didn't he'd have to go rouge and drag himself into a bathroom to hide. The catheter presented a problem. Many, many problems. Problems he didn't want to think about. So even if he managed to push through the pain there was that keeping him on the bed. And the IV drip. And the heart monitor. And the stupid bed railings he couldn't figure out how to push down. Subterfuge and acting were his best bet.
The very universe must be trying to do him a solid for the whole lightning incident because no sooner had he decided a course of action, his mother could be seen through the window of his hospital room. As swiftly as he was able Carson slumped into the bed and let his head loll to the side. He wanted to pinch his cheeks and pink them up for an innocence factor but he didn't have the time. He made do with forcing out little snuffling noises with his nose, something he hadn't done involuntarily since he was in the single digits.
Sheryl stumbled into the room, exhausted. She blindly tossed her purse into a spare chair and collapsed into the other. With a frown she tugged her robe more tightly around her and crossed her arms tight over her chest and slunk down. She could just make out the childish nasal noises coming from her bed ridden son. Her strong willed, sarcastic, larger than life son. He looked far too tiny lying there in the hospital bed, young and vulnerable. She wondered idly if he felt this way about her when she was passed out drunk somewhere in the house, if he ever felt like a sad and helpless parent. Sadness like this wasn't something she'd dealt with in a long time. For the brief few seconds that she'd been led to believe her baby was dead she'd felt like all the air had been sucked from her body. Her Carson, her precious, bright, dreamer of a son had almost vanished from the Earth in a spark. Trying to live through that, trying to push through the loss of another life and the opportunity for new memories, it was hell.
Back in Ohio she had two people who wanted to be her family, or had. Burt Hummel had moved on to a war widow nurse. She wasn't completely ignorant to her son's occasional chats with Kurt. She gathered enough quiet snippets through closed doors to know Kurt was doing well in school and had a bright future ahead of him. She knew that in a year, less even, she'd lose Carson to New York city and that Kurt would be right along side him. After that she wasn't sure she'd ever see Carson again. She hadn't exactly given him a reason to stay in touch with her. But the whole thing with Burt and his new family bugged her. He got to move on, a hell of a lot later, but still. He moved on, got married and settled down in a quaint two story with a white picket fence and got to be happy. Her train wreck of a marriage to Neal lasted two years and brought her nothing but grief. If they weren't arguing over Carson they were arguing over her “illness”, her “accident”, and what she so obviously needed to work through. Because God forbid Neal Phillips admit he was in the wrong even a little bit.
The accident should have been old news. It happened when Carson was six and she left Burt when he was eight. Now she was the lady that shopped in her pajamas and sunglasses during the day. She thought with enough time and distance she'd think of them less and less. For a while it worked that way, hence her marriage to Neal. Then as Carson grew up and she grew apart from socially accepted society she started thinking about them more and more. She knew Kurt was really her son. She understood that on a fundamental level. Kurt Hummel had come out of her two minutes before Carson. She'd carried him for nine months in her stomach before that. And for six years she loved and adored him. She'd cared for Kurt and bonded with him more than Carson. Then a Ford pickup truck crashed into her pathetic little compact and erased him. For months she'd suffered under the delusion that he was some sort of alien baby wearing Carson's face, toying with her emotions and sanity for the fun of it. She'd tried so damn hard to get over it, to see Kurt as her baby boy but she couldn't. He was gone. Burt was gone. Her love of musicals and ballet and fashion, it was all gone, vanished into thin air. Carson was the only thing that stuck, the only thing that gave her life purpose and now he was clinging to life in a sterile hospital room.
“Kh...” Sheryl leaned forward and took in her son's face. He was sleeping, probably drugged to the gills. His lips were moving but she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She tried to scoot her chair closer quietly but she stumbled over the hem of her robe and dropped it. A quick, wide eyed look at Carson showed him to be still asleep. He'd moved though, struggling gently with his heavy limbs. “...urt...” Kurt, that had to be what he was saying. Kurt fucking Hummel. Even in his sleep Carson was on her about him. Well that was just great. Just great. She always felt like a royal bitch when she denied him access to Kurt. Always. She just couldn't handle having that kid on her mind. Any guilt she felt over it usually washed away once she found her way to the bottom of a bottle of red wine. That wasn't an option in the hospital. Carson's nurses had made that abundantly clear to her.
She flopped back in her seat and started bouncing her leg up and down, faster and faster in agitation. The right thing to do would be to call Burt, again, and set up a phone call. What she wanted to do was poke and prod at Carson's face until he woke up and scolded her. Then they could bitch back and forth until the nurses came back with more drugs. She could go either way on this really. Carson could be having some dream about them as kids or he could be imagining Kurt murdering him or something like that. Teenagers were crazy these days. They grew up fast and fascinated with horror. It might not even have been Kurt's name. It could have been “hurt”. He could be reliving the whole horrible experience and where would that put her if she called Kurt and had him take time away from his busy high school existence to come see someone too drugged out to even appreciate it? It put her somewhere other than mother of the year, that's where. She just wasn't sure if it was closer or farther away from where she was now. That bothered her.
“Kurt.” Sheryl crossed her arms and stood, then leaned in close over Carson. “Kurt? Kurt huh? That's what you're thinkin' about kid? Kurt?” She was fidgeting at his bedside, leaning in and stretching out the name in a condescending tone then standing back up and flinging her arms around. “What am I suppose to do Carson? Beg him to come out here? Where would we put him? How would we afford it?” She was being petty. She knew good and well she could just hand over her cell and let Carson have at it. Burt had already shown that he wouldn't ignore her calls. She hadn't spoken to Kurt directly but there was a second when she heard him in the background. His voice was just as high as ever. And what was the deal on that? Carson's voice wasn't that high. Was he lowering it on purpose? Was there something crazy in the water back in Lima?
She huffed and fell back into her chair, her feet propped up on Carson's bed. The phone call wouldn't be enough. Carson would say it was and he'd take it and be thankful. And the second she asked, or told more like, he would hang up and that would be the end of it. Carson wouldn't ask again. But he'd call again. Or Skype or whatever teenagers did now. He'd get all fussy and count the time until he could hear from Kurt and he'd make it a big secret. It made her feel sick, that her kid would go to great lengths to hide something that would make him happy, something he desperately needed and wanted. It wouldn't be enough either. Carson almost died for Christ's sake. That wasn't something you could deal with in a phone call.
It wasn't just Kurt either. Burt would want to come see Carson, something she couldn't really begrudge him for. But she selfishly didn't want to deal with that at all. Burt Hummel with his perfect life and happy family and successful career, he was like a neon lit billboard highlighting how her life had gone to shit in the time that she'd left him. And he would be so very, very polite about it all. As pathetic and selfish as it was, she just didn't want to deal with that. She knew what her life was, what it wasn't. She didn't need a patronizing reminder. Beside her Carson whined pitifully in his sleep and turned his face her way. His hair was flopping in his face and for once he didn't look like a sarcastic little asshole. He looked like the sweet little boy she dragged into her car all those years ago. “Fine. You want Kurt, fine. I'll get you Kurt.” Sheryl dug into her ratty robe pocket and fished out her phone. It was an old bulky flip phone with a cracked screen. Dialing Burt's number for the fourth time of the day made her want to pull her fingernails out.
Internally Carson was laughing like a maniac. His half baked plan worked out almost too well. Sheryl was actually taking the initiative to call Burt instead of inching out the suggestion the next time he called to check in. When she'd started taunting him in his feigned sleep he knew she'd eventually cave but he had no idea she'd do it so quickly. The perks of almost dying he supposed. With any luck he'd be able to exploit his new found survivor status to gain leverage with the nearly useless guidance councilor at school. And while he was still firm on not wanting to be a freak show it was worth a shot to try and recruit people for his literary magazine by hinting that just maybe they'd catch glimpses of his scars. Blackmail would work a hell of a lot better but it took work, discreet work. Discretion wasn't something he'd be able to manage if the entire student body was fixated on him. There was only so much Malerie could handle on her own before she aroused suspicion. Attempted blackmail would cause too much of a scandal for him to recover from. They needed to keep things very hush hush, like real world competitive journalism.
A scandal. A scandal like Carson Phillips' long lost gay twin brother showing up. Oh shit. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He and Kurt lived in small hick towns where everyone knew everyone's business. If Kurt came to him or he went to Kurt, either way there would be some massive fall out. In Clover he could tweak it into a Pulitzer worthy story he could tack onto his admissions papers. Not that he wanted it to come to that. He was already enough of a freak and an outcast. His mother too. Thus far he thought they were about as close to rock bottom as they could get. If people suddenly clued into their sordid past and wrecked dysfunctional family his mom would go from being the town drunk to the town crazy. The amount of pity and the number of “well meaning” gossip mongers would skyrocket. On the other hand, if he made it out to Lima Kurt could get seriously hurt. A bunch of knuckle dragging homophobic hicks seeing Kurt's seemingly straight twin would cause nothing but problems for his brother. Worst case scenario someone would start a game of smear the queer to straighten him out.
So he probably should have thought things out a bit more thoroughly. With a groan Carson straightened himself out and stared at the ceiling. “Well fuck.” He closed his eyes and wiped down his face then threw his hands down at his sides. They didn't really have the money to house Kurt and Burt which meant that Burt would get a hotel. Which meant they would be all over town showing their faces and fanning flames. Burt, as well meaning as he was, would without a doubt send his mother spiraling into self loathing. Kurt would probably alternate between wanting to please her and wanting to yell at her. He'd be doing more damage control than relaxing. Honestly what was he thinking? What was in his IV drip that made him think a visit would be good? He wanted a phone call. A phone call wasn't too much to ask for. Unless you were Carson Hummel. Then a phone call might as well be an apology from a dictator.
Hopefully his mother would bring it up soon and they could work it out together. He didn't see any future where he and Kurt both came out of this with their privacy. If they talked it out together they could maybe reach some sort of compromise and limit the damage. It wasn't very likely but he could hope. It seems like that's all he really does anymore. Hope and dream and debate whether or not he would actually want to live in an apartment with his brother after college and during the summer breaks in between. It just seemed like their time had passed, in the sense that they couldn't grow up together. College changed things. They'd both be so invested in their careers and their goals and new found freedom that making time for family would just fall to the wayside. They'd tell themselves next weekend or next month or next break and the time would never come. Then after college it was just as easy to say that they had lives now and obligations that they couldn't drop just to fulfill a plan they thought of when they were preteens. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd blow this ridiculous small minded town to try it out with Kurt if they could finish out high school in New York. But to give up Northwestern to live with him? Not gonna happen.
Kurt needed New York in a different way than Carson needed Illinois. Kurt wasn't so focused on his career. He was driven and ambitious, there was no doubt about that. But New York wasn't so much about what he'd do with his future as it was about actually having a future. Nobody really liked him in Clover so he funneled all his attention into his future career and shoving it into their slack jawed faces. In Lima, people hated Kurt, hated him so much they thought he should die. There was no doubt in Carson's mind that Kurt would fight and kick and scream for a job in the arts but it wasn't all about that. It was about New York being a place where he could live without being afraid that every day could end in a violent and bloody death at the hands of close minded rednecks. If Kurt did come all the way out to Clover it would probably be their last chance to really see each other before their lives got in the way. Silver linings he supposed.
There was a quiet click that pulled Carson from his thoughts. It was his doctor shuffling in, nose buried in her clipboard. She was old, like nursing home material old. He couldn't remember who admitted him or worked on his burns when he first came in. The searing pain had him a bit preoccupied. Good God she was old. It was a miracle he woke up at all. Someone with that kind of age was a cough away from killing someone with a scalpel. “Hello Mr. Phillips, how are you feeling today?”
“Like I was struck by lightning yesterday.”
She smiled widely at him, revealing pearly white dentures. She nodded and hugged the clipboard to her chest with bony, wrinkled hands. “I'd imagine so. Any pain or confusion? Any blurry vision or unusual numbness?” Carson gave her a deadpan look when she mentioned pain but shook his head to everything else.
“I'm in pain and tired.”
“A dull throb or something more sharp?”
“A dull throb all over my side.”
She nodded and made a note on her clipboard then set it aside. “Well that's to be expected dear. I'll have a nurse come in and give you a little something if you want it.” She slid smoothly into an examination, prodding his burns and flashing lights in his eyes. He was a little disturbed to find out that he couldn't quite feel the tips of his fingers or the back left half of his hand. His eye sight was good and he rattled off the answers to her basic questions with an almost sarcastic ease. She was impressed with his progress if her comically wide smile was anything to go by. “Such a lucky boy.”
“The poster boy.” His deadpan delivery didn't seem completely lost on her this time because she pressed the button at his bedside for a nurse. She hovered diligently at the foot of his bed until one got there with a vial and syringe. He wasted no time settling himself comfortably in the bed while she measured it out and got it ready. A decent nap was in order if he intended to come up with a solution for his meeting with Kurt. The doctor and nurse were long gone by the time he drifted off.
* * *
Finn, as it turned out, was not as oblivious as he seemed to be. He had known something big was going on and that it probably had something to do with Burt's family. The problem with figuring things out was that he didn't actually know any of Burt's family. During the wedding he had stuck to the glee club for the most part or his own family. He'd met Burt's sister Muriel just before the wedding started and it was enough to make him keep his distance. The second problem, and probably the bigger one, was find out why someone in Burt's family would send his mom off into a rage. Or well, like a pissy mood anyways. Everyone had gotten along just fine at the wedding, even Muriel who was drunk through all of it. His mom was acting like she did after Darren left her for the blond chick from Pick and Save.
With the way Kurt was moping around the house and clinging to Blaine it was obvious he knew what was going on and he didn't like it. But asking Kurt would kind of feel like kicking a puppy or dunking a kitten in cold water or something so he didn't bother. Instead he tried to be stealthy, big mistake, and tried to eavesdrop on Burt's phone call. Even bigger mistake. He thought he'd been doing pretty good at the start. He heard a lot of angry muttering from the caller and Burt's tight replies about 'I think it's for the best' which lead Finn to think about vets putting animals down and that was so not what he wanted to focus on. Turns out his success was less about him being discreet and more about Burt being really preoccupied with his conversation. So it was a mild surprise when Burt looked up from the ground, dead straight into Finn's eyes and pointed quietly.
He was not ashamed to admit that he scampered away like a frightened dog. Burt was a scary man. He had anger. When family was involved Burt turned into a vicious fire breathing pit bull with Gatling guns on his shoulders. It was kind of awe inspiring really, when that rage wasn't directed at you. He had waited on pins and needles until Burt came to him and explained what was going on. His wife hadn't died. She'd been in a car accident and lost her memory. Kurt had a twin brother that she did remember and the two of them lived in California. And two days ago Carson got struck by lightning and almost died. It was a lot. Finn felt like he was listening to the plot of one of Ms. Fabray's soap operas. At least his mom's anger seemed justified. It was kind of messed up that he would keep something like that from them but he kind of got it. Just hearing about it made his heart hurt. He couldn't imagine talking about it if he didn't have to. He wasn't a feelings guy and neither was Burt. So yeah, he got it.
Once you got over how weird the whole thing was it was kind of exciting. Kurt had this top secret twin brother from California. A super secret twin that survived being zapped by a mighty bolt of freaking lightning. They probably acted a lot different too because Kurt's mom took Carson because she couldn't remember Kurt. So like by default Carson must be completely different from Kurt. Not that Kurt was like bad or anything but he was really high maintenance and stuff and Carson was probably more like a guys guy. His name had car in it even. Kurt was a theater name so that fit him and yeah. It just worked. Finn was excited to meet Carson and figure out if he was the evil twin or whatever and find out what kind of guy he was. Burt had told him that he and Kurt's mom were still arguing so it'd probably take a while before they worked out a plan but he could wait. Carson almost died. That was way big. That was bigger than Sam losing his house, that was Karofsky trying to kill himself big. He'd need time to settle and stop panicking before he'd be up for visitors or travel.
Personally Finn was hoping he'd get to jump on a plane out to California. He'd never heard of Clover before but it wasn't in Ohio is it was somewhere important and more exciting and since he didn't know Carson he'd get to sight see and stuff. The way Burt was talking though, it kind of seemed like Kurt would be the only going. Which blew but family was important, especially to Kurt. What really bothered Finn was that he couldn't tell anybody. He wasn't stupid enough to think Rachel could keep it a secret. If he told Puck he'd probably be able to keep it a secret because he was big on family too, but he wouldn't be able to resist dropping hints. Then Kurt would know he told and it would just blow up in his face and it'd be like dunking kittens. So it had to be a secret.
Through the wall he could hear the scratch of a Beatles record playing Kurt's room. The White Album was Kurt's go to when he was just generally sad about life. It had just the mix of solemn and happy songs on it to keep him from crying at the sad parts or raging at the happy parts. In an effort to show his support he kept his video games down low so Kurt could enjoy his music in peace. They made it all the way down to Blackbird before Finn heard anything else. He halfheartedly charged his guy into the enemy holdout and let himself get shot, then turned to the door. His mom was standing there, leaning into his room but looking towards Kurt's.
“Honey could you go check on Kurt please?”
“He's listening to his album though.” Carole frowned at Finn and leaned more heavily on the door. “It's his sad album mom. He doesn't really move when he's listening to it.” His mom didn't look impressed. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head towards Kurt's door.
“Please Finn. I know he's upset and I don't think he wants me in there.”
Finn sighed and slowly trudged out of his room and towards Kurt's. With great caution he peeked around the corner and spotted Kurt instantly. He was sprawled out on his stomach in cotton pajamas with one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His face was turned away from the door, towards the record player. Finn nudged the door open and slowly made his way to the bed. Kurt knew he was there, he had this wicked sixth sense about people in his room. He sat down on Kurt's bed, back to his side, and turned a little at the waste to see Kurt better. He raised his hand to pat Kurt's back but stopped at the last minute and let his hand hover there for a few seconds. “Hey man...what's up?” Finn hung his head and hoped for the best. The two of them had plenty of heart to heart talks since their parents got married but Kurt always came to him first. He didn't know how to start these things.
“M'tired...sad.” Kurt didn't bother to move before speaking so everything was half muffled by his pillow. He could practically feel Finn's hand hovering over him and was grateful that he had the wherewithal to keep his hands to himself. The only people he wanted touching him right now weren't in the house. No offense to him or Carole, it's just, touching.
“Do you want some cake or something?”
Good God did he want cake. He wanted cake and pizza and fried things. He needed comfort food to make up for not having a nice comforting hug to fall into. But he didn't have anything good left in the house. He and Blaine had finished off all the ice cream the night before and as a rule Kurt tried to keep fatty foods out of the house since his father's heart attack. What else could he...peas. He wanted a big steaming bowl of sweet peas and he wanted it now. “Peas.”
“Peas? Like the gross little round vegetables?” Finn was frowning and leaning forward, ready to run off and grab whatever Kurt needed.
“Yeah. In the crisper.” Finn wasn't sure what a crisper was but he figured it had something to do with the fridge. He didn't know how to fix peas either but his mom was thankfully hovering in the hallway still, eager to help. She looked up at him hopefully and gestured to Kurt's room.
“He wants peas.” Carole looked confused but nodded. Kurt had an odd relationship with food that she didn't entirely understand. “He said they're in the crisper?” The upward inflection in his voice at the end had Carole smiling. She didn't think Finn had even gone into the crisper voluntarily or that he even knew what it was. She should probably work on that, but that was something for another day. The peas were in the crisper, the fresh kind still in the pod. She gathered a collonder and a bowl and set up a pot of boiling water. Shelling them went quicker than expected. She'd only ever made canned peas and that was usually on Thanksgiving.
Once the peas were on the boil she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes in thought. She was livid with Burt for keeping his ex-wife and second son a secret. After opening up about Chris' dishonorable discharge and drug use she thought they had no more secrets. Thinking back she'd seen signs. The look on Burt's face when she mentioned the urge to see Chris's face one more time and the way he hesitated when he first started mentioning having two sons. As much as she wanted to storm out of the house she couldn't bring herself to do it. Burt and Kurt were both obviously hurting. And Carson, that poor boy almost died. She couldn't imagine getting a phone call like that. That curbed her anger, it was the Mama Bear in her. But it didn't change the fact that Burt had had plenty of time to come clean about things and chose not to. She didn't want to get a divorce. Burt was a good man and a great father, but he lied.
“Mrs. Hummel? Mrs. Hummel are you okay?” Carol looked up, startled. Blaine was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand on the molding, with a concerned look. She was crying, just a little. As quickly as she could she wiped away her tears and let out a forced little laugh.
“I'm fine. It's just been a crazy couple of days.” She shuffled around in the kitchen straightening things that didn't need it and stirring the peas. They were close to done but she wasn't sure how to finish them. She felt Blaine's tentative hand pat her arm, seemingly from nowhere. She hadn't heard him come into the kitchen.
“Sweet peas? He's doing worse today then.”
“I think I made them wrong.”
Blaine smiled sadly and flicked off the burner. “That's okay. Well run some cold water over them.” He lifted the pot and drained it then turned on the tap to rinse and cool the peas. He kept his eyes away from Carole's somber face as he worked. “His mom made sweet peas a lot. They're his favorite. But Burt doesn't like them so...” Blaine trailed off as he poured the peas into a red ceramic bowl.
“So Kurt doesn't get them. Peas...such and odd thing for a kid to like. I don't even know if Finn's ever seen a pea up close.” Blaine chuckled and picked out a spoon. After it tapered off the two of them stood quietly, trying not to look at each others sad faces. Carole could see that Blaine was itching to go upstairs but too polite to just leave her standing there. “Go on, you don't want them to get cold.” She waved him in the direction of the stairs but he still didn't move.
“Is there something I could make you Mrs. Hummel?” He was looking straight at her now, with wide earnest eyes and an open face. It made her chest ache.
“That's alright. You just go up and feed Kurt.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile. The way he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs told her she wasn't successful. Carole waited until she heard a door close to let herself cry. She was entitled to it.
Blaine felt horrible for just leaving Carole alone in the kitchen but Kurt did need him. If he was letting someone else make his sweet peas it was definitely serious. His best guess was that Kurt had time to process beyond 'Carson almost died' to 'my mother won't let me see him'. It had to be hard. His own parents, as awkward as they were with him sometimes, genuinely wanted him around. The way Kurt talked about his mother, who she was before the accident, it was clear that to him she'd hung the moon and the stars. The White Album was playing, it was about half way through. Kurt was lying on his stomach looking glum. “I've got sweet peas.” Blaine holds the bowl aloft, tempting Kurt to turn. He turns his head to Blaine, face half squished into his pillow. He offers Blaine a small smile but waits until he is climbing up onto the bed to actually sit up.
“When did you get here?” Kurt takes the bowl from Blaine and hugs it to his chest. He wastes no time digging in. The slight and fleeting scrunch in his nose tells Blaine that Carol did indeed overcook the peas. But Kurt keeps eating regardless.
“A few minutes ago.” The two of them sit quietly while the album plays out and Kurt eats. Steadily Kurt inches his way into Blaine's side until he's leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder and his bowl is empty. “Do you know if...will you be able to see him?” Kurt sighed and tucked his face into Blaine's neck and twined their fingers together.
“My dad's working it out. She's not saying no to it but she's...”
“Resisting?”
“Yeah. Resisting. I guess Carson asked for me though. So there's that.”
Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and kissed the crown of his head. “Did you think he wouldn't?” He can feel Kurt's frown and instantly nudges Kurt's legs. They push at each other a little until they're wrapped up in each other and Kurt is happier.
“It's not that he wouldn't want to see me it's just...Carson doesn't like to push mom. He tries not to deal with her because, just because. Things get crazy and I think Carson might be a little afraid that she'll regret it.” Kurt sighs and places a gentle kiss on Blaine's neck. He doesn't feel like a heated make out session right now but he wouldn't say no to some intense cuddling and sweet necking. Blaine isn't quite getting the picture, obviously still in comforting boyfriend mode. He kisses from Blaine's neck and up to his jaw and closes his lips around Blaine's earlobe.
A shiver goes through Blaine at the sudden onslaught. He wants to roll around with Kurt and press kisses everywhere there's skin but he can't quite get into it yet. He's still stuck on what Kurt said. What would she regret, choosing Carson or moving away? It would be a scary thing to think about and sad too. He wants to hold Kurt tight and shield him from every angry and nasty thing out in the world, which would not only be impossible but unwelcome. So he tries valiantly to ignore Kurt's sweet sucking kisses against his neck and remain a pillar of strength and comfort. The feel of lips and teeth clamping over his earlobe crumble his resolve. It's his ears, always his ears, his greatest weakness. He tried to be strong. Blaine held tighter to Kurt's hand and tried to pull his head away so he could rub noses with Kurt. Then Kurt sucked. Well, bathing his boyfriend in kisses could count as emotional support.
Glee/Struck By Lightning crossover
Summary: It's not just collisions that scatter debris. Sometimes things just get
torn apart and they leave bits of themselves behind; and there's no way to get
everything back.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,663
A/N: We get to meet Carson and we get some Klaine in this part. Whooo!
Chapter 1
Chapter Two
Being on your figurative death bed had its advantages, namely everyone around you being incredibly accommodating and doting. If he wasn't so loaded up with pain killers he'd take more advantage of it. As it was, he couldn't even properly articulate his displeasure with the food. Mostly he made sad faces and gestured around. His mother was next to useless, she was a laugh if nothing else, but mostly she just sat next to his bed and cried. It was semi-frustrating, waking up periodically to be greeted by the sounds of nasal crying, but better than waking up to no one at all.
His only other visitor was Malerie, who'd come with a self made kitten poster. It was taped up to the television stand. He couldn't make out everything on it but he thought it was suppose to be a cat made out of cats. One was never really sure with Malerie. She had stood at the end of his bed looking vacant and unsettled for three whole minutes until he'd shifted and given her a glimpse of his scar. It was a long, sprawling set of dark pink burns that wound down his body from shoulder to hip, from his wrists, over his right peck, across his ribs and ending with a curling flourish at the beginning of his thigh. The burns looked like unearthed veins or an artistic attempt at a tree root tattoo. It made him look like a hipster. He wished he could have gotten something more devilish out of it, something with character that would make people desperate for a story. Not that he'd give it, but still. He'd survived a lightning strike and all he had to show for it was a drug induced slur and a pseudo-tattoo.
Malerie thought it was attractive and wanted to take photos for the school paper. He was half tempted to let her run it. The low brow heathens would probably take an interest in the paper for the first time in, well ever, because nothing sold like disaster. He dismissed the thought soon after. As much as he wanted to rouse interest in the school paper, he didn't want it to be because he was some kind of freak show statistic. The only person he really wanted to share his story with wasn't even in the same damn state. His brother, his two minute older brother, Kurt was not so safely tucked away in Lima, Ohio with no real way to contact him. His phone had gotten fried in the storm and the hospital phone was about a foot away from his reach. Trying to get out of bed made his body feel like it was burning from the inside out and had him dizzy and sick with pain in a matter of seconds. Borrowing a phone was out of the question since he would have to either ask his mother or Malerie. He could ask one of the nurses for help but they had this annoying habit of only showing up when he was either unconscious or so drugged up he couldn't speak.
When it happened his life didn't flash before his eyes. He didn't feel regret or anger or the hand of God. He just felt pain, white hot searing pain tearing through his body with a vengeance. It was when he woke up that he thought about everything. His mind tried to work a million miles a minute but couldn't. His thoughts were jumbled up and tripping over each other, overlapping and making zero sense. Kurt was the only consistent thing. He knew it was Kurt's voice in his head rather than his own thoughts. He wanted Kurt. They had to talk about this, or see each other, or hear each other breathe, something. Near death experiences weren't something he was familiar with but if the unabashed sobbing at three in the morning were any indication, Kurt was. He just didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know if his arm would ever move right again or if his brain would crap out on him. He didn't know if he'd have heart problems or nerve damage. He was scared. Honestly fucking scared and he just wanted to talk to his brother about it.
If he wanted to talk to Kurt any time soon he'd have to play it smart. His mom was already on edge because of Neal's pending wedding. If it seemed too much like he wanted Kurt over her she'd go on a self destructive drinking binge and become completely useless. And she'd do everything in her power to keep him from talking to Kurt for at least a month. The best way to go about it would have to be subtlety. He'd have to pretend to call out for Kurt in a drug induced haze. That way he can't be blamed for bringing it up and she can take credit for the idea. Once she feels like she can be useful she'll be more agreeable. It had to work. If it didn't he'd have to go rouge and drag himself into a bathroom to hide. The catheter presented a problem. Many, many problems. Problems he didn't want to think about. So even if he managed to push through the pain there was that keeping him on the bed. And the IV drip. And the heart monitor. And the stupid bed railings he couldn't figure out how to push down. Subterfuge and acting were his best bet.
The very universe must be trying to do him a solid for the whole lightning incident because no sooner had he decided a course of action, his mother could be seen through the window of his hospital room. As swiftly as he was able Carson slumped into the bed and let his head loll to the side. He wanted to pinch his cheeks and pink them up for an innocence factor but he didn't have the time. He made do with forcing out little snuffling noises with his nose, something he hadn't done involuntarily since he was in the single digits.
Sheryl stumbled into the room, exhausted. She blindly tossed her purse into a spare chair and collapsed into the other. With a frown she tugged her robe more tightly around her and crossed her arms tight over her chest and slunk down. She could just make out the childish nasal noises coming from her bed ridden son. Her strong willed, sarcastic, larger than life son. He looked far too tiny lying there in the hospital bed, young and vulnerable. She wondered idly if he felt this way about her when she was passed out drunk somewhere in the house, if he ever felt like a sad and helpless parent. Sadness like this wasn't something she'd dealt with in a long time. For the brief few seconds that she'd been led to believe her baby was dead she'd felt like all the air had been sucked from her body. Her Carson, her precious, bright, dreamer of a son had almost vanished from the Earth in a spark. Trying to live through that, trying to push through the loss of another life and the opportunity for new memories, it was hell.
Back in Ohio she had two people who wanted to be her family, or had. Burt Hummel had moved on to a war widow nurse. She wasn't completely ignorant to her son's occasional chats with Kurt. She gathered enough quiet snippets through closed doors to know Kurt was doing well in school and had a bright future ahead of him. She knew that in a year, less even, she'd lose Carson to New York city and that Kurt would be right along side him. After that she wasn't sure she'd ever see Carson again. She hadn't exactly given him a reason to stay in touch with her. But the whole thing with Burt and his new family bugged her. He got to move on, a hell of a lot later, but still. He moved on, got married and settled down in a quaint two story with a white picket fence and got to be happy. Her train wreck of a marriage to Neal lasted two years and brought her nothing but grief. If they weren't arguing over Carson they were arguing over her “illness”, her “accident”, and what she so obviously needed to work through. Because God forbid Neal Phillips admit he was in the wrong even a little bit.
The accident should have been old news. It happened when Carson was six and she left Burt when he was eight. Now she was the lady that shopped in her pajamas and sunglasses during the day. She thought with enough time and distance she'd think of them less and less. For a while it worked that way, hence her marriage to Neal. Then as Carson grew up and she grew apart from socially accepted society she started thinking about them more and more. She knew Kurt was really her son. She understood that on a fundamental level. Kurt Hummel had come out of her two minutes before Carson. She'd carried him for nine months in her stomach before that. And for six years she loved and adored him. She'd cared for Kurt and bonded with him more than Carson. Then a Ford pickup truck crashed into her pathetic little compact and erased him. For months she'd suffered under the delusion that he was some sort of alien baby wearing Carson's face, toying with her emotions and sanity for the fun of it. She'd tried so damn hard to get over it, to see Kurt as her baby boy but she couldn't. He was gone. Burt was gone. Her love of musicals and ballet and fashion, it was all gone, vanished into thin air. Carson was the only thing that stuck, the only thing that gave her life purpose and now he was clinging to life in a sterile hospital room.
“Kh...” Sheryl leaned forward and took in her son's face. He was sleeping, probably drugged to the gills. His lips were moving but she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She tried to scoot her chair closer quietly but she stumbled over the hem of her robe and dropped it. A quick, wide eyed look at Carson showed him to be still asleep. He'd moved though, struggling gently with his heavy limbs. “...urt...” Kurt, that had to be what he was saying. Kurt fucking Hummel. Even in his sleep Carson was on her about him. Well that was just great. Just great. She always felt like a royal bitch when she denied him access to Kurt. Always. She just couldn't handle having that kid on her mind. Any guilt she felt over it usually washed away once she found her way to the bottom of a bottle of red wine. That wasn't an option in the hospital. Carson's nurses had made that abundantly clear to her.
She flopped back in her seat and started bouncing her leg up and down, faster and faster in agitation. The right thing to do would be to call Burt, again, and set up a phone call. What she wanted to do was poke and prod at Carson's face until he woke up and scolded her. Then they could bitch back and forth until the nurses came back with more drugs. She could go either way on this really. Carson could be having some dream about them as kids or he could be imagining Kurt murdering him or something like that. Teenagers were crazy these days. They grew up fast and fascinated with horror. It might not even have been Kurt's name. It could have been “hurt”. He could be reliving the whole horrible experience and where would that put her if she called Kurt and had him take time away from his busy high school existence to come see someone too drugged out to even appreciate it? It put her somewhere other than mother of the year, that's where. She just wasn't sure if it was closer or farther away from where she was now. That bothered her.
“Kurt.” Sheryl crossed her arms and stood, then leaned in close over Carson. “Kurt? Kurt huh? That's what you're thinkin' about kid? Kurt?” She was fidgeting at his bedside, leaning in and stretching out the name in a condescending tone then standing back up and flinging her arms around. “What am I suppose to do Carson? Beg him to come out here? Where would we put him? How would we afford it?” She was being petty. She knew good and well she could just hand over her cell and let Carson have at it. Burt had already shown that he wouldn't ignore her calls. She hadn't spoken to Kurt directly but there was a second when she heard him in the background. His voice was just as high as ever. And what was the deal on that? Carson's voice wasn't that high. Was he lowering it on purpose? Was there something crazy in the water back in Lima?
She huffed and fell back into her chair, her feet propped up on Carson's bed. The phone call wouldn't be enough. Carson would say it was and he'd take it and be thankful. And the second she asked, or told more like, he would hang up and that would be the end of it. Carson wouldn't ask again. But he'd call again. Or Skype or whatever teenagers did now. He'd get all fussy and count the time until he could hear from Kurt and he'd make it a big secret. It made her feel sick, that her kid would go to great lengths to hide something that would make him happy, something he desperately needed and wanted. It wouldn't be enough either. Carson almost died for Christ's sake. That wasn't something you could deal with in a phone call.
It wasn't just Kurt either. Burt would want to come see Carson, something she couldn't really begrudge him for. But she selfishly didn't want to deal with that at all. Burt Hummel with his perfect life and happy family and successful career, he was like a neon lit billboard highlighting how her life had gone to shit in the time that she'd left him. And he would be so very, very polite about it all. As pathetic and selfish as it was, she just didn't want to deal with that. She knew what her life was, what it wasn't. She didn't need a patronizing reminder. Beside her Carson whined pitifully in his sleep and turned his face her way. His hair was flopping in his face and for once he didn't look like a sarcastic little asshole. He looked like the sweet little boy she dragged into her car all those years ago. “Fine. You want Kurt, fine. I'll get you Kurt.” Sheryl dug into her ratty robe pocket and fished out her phone. It was an old bulky flip phone with a cracked screen. Dialing Burt's number for the fourth time of the day made her want to pull her fingernails out.
Internally Carson was laughing like a maniac. His half baked plan worked out almost too well. Sheryl was actually taking the initiative to call Burt instead of inching out the suggestion the next time he called to check in. When she'd started taunting him in his feigned sleep he knew she'd eventually cave but he had no idea she'd do it so quickly. The perks of almost dying he supposed. With any luck he'd be able to exploit his new found survivor status to gain leverage with the nearly useless guidance councilor at school. And while he was still firm on not wanting to be a freak show it was worth a shot to try and recruit people for his literary magazine by hinting that just maybe they'd catch glimpses of his scars. Blackmail would work a hell of a lot better but it took work, discreet work. Discretion wasn't something he'd be able to manage if the entire student body was fixated on him. There was only so much Malerie could handle on her own before she aroused suspicion. Attempted blackmail would cause too much of a scandal for him to recover from. They needed to keep things very hush hush, like real world competitive journalism.
A scandal. A scandal like Carson Phillips' long lost gay twin brother showing up. Oh shit. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He and Kurt lived in small hick towns where everyone knew everyone's business. If Kurt came to him or he went to Kurt, either way there would be some massive fall out. In Clover he could tweak it into a Pulitzer worthy story he could tack onto his admissions papers. Not that he wanted it to come to that. He was already enough of a freak and an outcast. His mother too. Thus far he thought they were about as close to rock bottom as they could get. If people suddenly clued into their sordid past and wrecked dysfunctional family his mom would go from being the town drunk to the town crazy. The amount of pity and the number of “well meaning” gossip mongers would skyrocket. On the other hand, if he made it out to Lima Kurt could get seriously hurt. A bunch of knuckle dragging homophobic hicks seeing Kurt's seemingly straight twin would cause nothing but problems for his brother. Worst case scenario someone would start a game of smear the queer to straighten him out.
So he probably should have thought things out a bit more thoroughly. With a groan Carson straightened himself out and stared at the ceiling. “Well fuck.” He closed his eyes and wiped down his face then threw his hands down at his sides. They didn't really have the money to house Kurt and Burt which meant that Burt would get a hotel. Which meant they would be all over town showing their faces and fanning flames. Burt, as well meaning as he was, would without a doubt send his mother spiraling into self loathing. Kurt would probably alternate between wanting to please her and wanting to yell at her. He'd be doing more damage control than relaxing. Honestly what was he thinking? What was in his IV drip that made him think a visit would be good? He wanted a phone call. A phone call wasn't too much to ask for. Unless you were Carson Hummel. Then a phone call might as well be an apology from a dictator.
Hopefully his mother would bring it up soon and they could work it out together. He didn't see any future where he and Kurt both came out of this with their privacy. If they talked it out together they could maybe reach some sort of compromise and limit the damage. It wasn't very likely but he could hope. It seems like that's all he really does anymore. Hope and dream and debate whether or not he would actually want to live in an apartment with his brother after college and during the summer breaks in between. It just seemed like their time had passed, in the sense that they couldn't grow up together. College changed things. They'd both be so invested in their careers and their goals and new found freedom that making time for family would just fall to the wayside. They'd tell themselves next weekend or next month or next break and the time would never come. Then after college it was just as easy to say that they had lives now and obligations that they couldn't drop just to fulfill a plan they thought of when they were preteens. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd blow this ridiculous small minded town to try it out with Kurt if they could finish out high school in New York. But to give up Northwestern to live with him? Not gonna happen.
Kurt needed New York in a different way than Carson needed Illinois. Kurt wasn't so focused on his career. He was driven and ambitious, there was no doubt about that. But New York wasn't so much about what he'd do with his future as it was about actually having a future. Nobody really liked him in Clover so he funneled all his attention into his future career and shoving it into their slack jawed faces. In Lima, people hated Kurt, hated him so much they thought he should die. There was no doubt in Carson's mind that Kurt would fight and kick and scream for a job in the arts but it wasn't all about that. It was about New York being a place where he could live without being afraid that every day could end in a violent and bloody death at the hands of close minded rednecks. If Kurt did come all the way out to Clover it would probably be their last chance to really see each other before their lives got in the way. Silver linings he supposed.
There was a quiet click that pulled Carson from his thoughts. It was his doctor shuffling in, nose buried in her clipboard. She was old, like nursing home material old. He couldn't remember who admitted him or worked on his burns when he first came in. The searing pain had him a bit preoccupied. Good God she was old. It was a miracle he woke up at all. Someone with that kind of age was a cough away from killing someone with a scalpel. “Hello Mr. Phillips, how are you feeling today?”
“Like I was struck by lightning yesterday.”
She smiled widely at him, revealing pearly white dentures. She nodded and hugged the clipboard to her chest with bony, wrinkled hands. “I'd imagine so. Any pain or confusion? Any blurry vision or unusual numbness?” Carson gave her a deadpan look when she mentioned pain but shook his head to everything else.
“I'm in pain and tired.”
“A dull throb or something more sharp?”
“A dull throb all over my side.”
She nodded and made a note on her clipboard then set it aside. “Well that's to be expected dear. I'll have a nurse come in and give you a little something if you want it.” She slid smoothly into an examination, prodding his burns and flashing lights in his eyes. He was a little disturbed to find out that he couldn't quite feel the tips of his fingers or the back left half of his hand. His eye sight was good and he rattled off the answers to her basic questions with an almost sarcastic ease. She was impressed with his progress if her comically wide smile was anything to go by. “Such a lucky boy.”
“The poster boy.” His deadpan delivery didn't seem completely lost on her this time because she pressed the button at his bedside for a nurse. She hovered diligently at the foot of his bed until one got there with a vial and syringe. He wasted no time settling himself comfortably in the bed while she measured it out and got it ready. A decent nap was in order if he intended to come up with a solution for his meeting with Kurt. The doctor and nurse were long gone by the time he drifted off.
* * *
Finn, as it turned out, was not as oblivious as he seemed to be. He had known something big was going on and that it probably had something to do with Burt's family. The problem with figuring things out was that he didn't actually know any of Burt's family. During the wedding he had stuck to the glee club for the most part or his own family. He'd met Burt's sister Muriel just before the wedding started and it was enough to make him keep his distance. The second problem, and probably the bigger one, was find out why someone in Burt's family would send his mom off into a rage. Or well, like a pissy mood anyways. Everyone had gotten along just fine at the wedding, even Muriel who was drunk through all of it. His mom was acting like she did after Darren left her for the blond chick from Pick and Save.
With the way Kurt was moping around the house and clinging to Blaine it was obvious he knew what was going on and he didn't like it. But asking Kurt would kind of feel like kicking a puppy or dunking a kitten in cold water or something so he didn't bother. Instead he tried to be stealthy, big mistake, and tried to eavesdrop on Burt's phone call. Even bigger mistake. He thought he'd been doing pretty good at the start. He heard a lot of angry muttering from the caller and Burt's tight replies about 'I think it's for the best' which lead Finn to think about vets putting animals down and that was so not what he wanted to focus on. Turns out his success was less about him being discreet and more about Burt being really preoccupied with his conversation. So it was a mild surprise when Burt looked up from the ground, dead straight into Finn's eyes and pointed quietly.
He was not ashamed to admit that he scampered away like a frightened dog. Burt was a scary man. He had anger. When family was involved Burt turned into a vicious fire breathing pit bull with Gatling guns on his shoulders. It was kind of awe inspiring really, when that rage wasn't directed at you. He had waited on pins and needles until Burt came to him and explained what was going on. His wife hadn't died. She'd been in a car accident and lost her memory. Kurt had a twin brother that she did remember and the two of them lived in California. And two days ago Carson got struck by lightning and almost died. It was a lot. Finn felt like he was listening to the plot of one of Ms. Fabray's soap operas. At least his mom's anger seemed justified. It was kind of messed up that he would keep something like that from them but he kind of got it. Just hearing about it made his heart hurt. He couldn't imagine talking about it if he didn't have to. He wasn't a feelings guy and neither was Burt. So yeah, he got it.
Once you got over how weird the whole thing was it was kind of exciting. Kurt had this top secret twin brother from California. A super secret twin that survived being zapped by a mighty bolt of freaking lightning. They probably acted a lot different too because Kurt's mom took Carson because she couldn't remember Kurt. So like by default Carson must be completely different from Kurt. Not that Kurt was like bad or anything but he was really high maintenance and stuff and Carson was probably more like a guys guy. His name had car in it even. Kurt was a theater name so that fit him and yeah. It just worked. Finn was excited to meet Carson and figure out if he was the evil twin or whatever and find out what kind of guy he was. Burt had told him that he and Kurt's mom were still arguing so it'd probably take a while before they worked out a plan but he could wait. Carson almost died. That was way big. That was bigger than Sam losing his house, that was Karofsky trying to kill himself big. He'd need time to settle and stop panicking before he'd be up for visitors or travel.
Personally Finn was hoping he'd get to jump on a plane out to California. He'd never heard of Clover before but it wasn't in Ohio is it was somewhere important and more exciting and since he didn't know Carson he'd get to sight see and stuff. The way Burt was talking though, it kind of seemed like Kurt would be the only going. Which blew but family was important, especially to Kurt. What really bothered Finn was that he couldn't tell anybody. He wasn't stupid enough to think Rachel could keep it a secret. If he told Puck he'd probably be able to keep it a secret because he was big on family too, but he wouldn't be able to resist dropping hints. Then Kurt would know he told and it would just blow up in his face and it'd be like dunking kittens. So it had to be a secret.
Through the wall he could hear the scratch of a Beatles record playing Kurt's room. The White Album was Kurt's go to when he was just generally sad about life. It had just the mix of solemn and happy songs on it to keep him from crying at the sad parts or raging at the happy parts. In an effort to show his support he kept his video games down low so Kurt could enjoy his music in peace. They made it all the way down to Blackbird before Finn heard anything else. He halfheartedly charged his guy into the enemy holdout and let himself get shot, then turned to the door. His mom was standing there, leaning into his room but looking towards Kurt's.
“Honey could you go check on Kurt please?”
“He's listening to his album though.” Carole frowned at Finn and leaned more heavily on the door. “It's his sad album mom. He doesn't really move when he's listening to it.” His mom didn't look impressed. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head towards Kurt's door.
“Please Finn. I know he's upset and I don't think he wants me in there.”
Finn sighed and slowly trudged out of his room and towards Kurt's. With great caution he peeked around the corner and spotted Kurt instantly. He was sprawled out on his stomach in cotton pajamas with one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His face was turned away from the door, towards the record player. Finn nudged the door open and slowly made his way to the bed. Kurt knew he was there, he had this wicked sixth sense about people in his room. He sat down on Kurt's bed, back to his side, and turned a little at the waste to see Kurt better. He raised his hand to pat Kurt's back but stopped at the last minute and let his hand hover there for a few seconds. “Hey man...what's up?” Finn hung his head and hoped for the best. The two of them had plenty of heart to heart talks since their parents got married but Kurt always came to him first. He didn't know how to start these things.
“M'tired...sad.” Kurt didn't bother to move before speaking so everything was half muffled by his pillow. He could practically feel Finn's hand hovering over him and was grateful that he had the wherewithal to keep his hands to himself. The only people he wanted touching him right now weren't in the house. No offense to him or Carole, it's just, touching.
“Do you want some cake or something?”
Good God did he want cake. He wanted cake and pizza and fried things. He needed comfort food to make up for not having a nice comforting hug to fall into. But he didn't have anything good left in the house. He and Blaine had finished off all the ice cream the night before and as a rule Kurt tried to keep fatty foods out of the house since his father's heart attack. What else could he...peas. He wanted a big steaming bowl of sweet peas and he wanted it now. “Peas.”
“Peas? Like the gross little round vegetables?” Finn was frowning and leaning forward, ready to run off and grab whatever Kurt needed.
“Yeah. In the crisper.” Finn wasn't sure what a crisper was but he figured it had something to do with the fridge. He didn't know how to fix peas either but his mom was thankfully hovering in the hallway still, eager to help. She looked up at him hopefully and gestured to Kurt's room.
“He wants peas.” Carole looked confused but nodded. Kurt had an odd relationship with food that she didn't entirely understand. “He said they're in the crisper?” The upward inflection in his voice at the end had Carole smiling. She didn't think Finn had even gone into the crisper voluntarily or that he even knew what it was. She should probably work on that, but that was something for another day. The peas were in the crisper, the fresh kind still in the pod. She gathered a collonder and a bowl and set up a pot of boiling water. Shelling them went quicker than expected. She'd only ever made canned peas and that was usually on Thanksgiving.
Once the peas were on the boil she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes in thought. She was livid with Burt for keeping his ex-wife and second son a secret. After opening up about Chris' dishonorable discharge and drug use she thought they had no more secrets. Thinking back she'd seen signs. The look on Burt's face when she mentioned the urge to see Chris's face one more time and the way he hesitated when he first started mentioning having two sons. As much as she wanted to storm out of the house she couldn't bring herself to do it. Burt and Kurt were both obviously hurting. And Carson, that poor boy almost died. She couldn't imagine getting a phone call like that. That curbed her anger, it was the Mama Bear in her. But it didn't change the fact that Burt had had plenty of time to come clean about things and chose not to. She didn't want to get a divorce. Burt was a good man and a great father, but he lied.
“Mrs. Hummel? Mrs. Hummel are you okay?” Carol looked up, startled. Blaine was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand on the molding, with a concerned look. She was crying, just a little. As quickly as she could she wiped away her tears and let out a forced little laugh.
“I'm fine. It's just been a crazy couple of days.” She shuffled around in the kitchen straightening things that didn't need it and stirring the peas. They were close to done but she wasn't sure how to finish them. She felt Blaine's tentative hand pat her arm, seemingly from nowhere. She hadn't heard him come into the kitchen.
“Sweet peas? He's doing worse today then.”
“I think I made them wrong.”
Blaine smiled sadly and flicked off the burner. “That's okay. Well run some cold water over them.” He lifted the pot and drained it then turned on the tap to rinse and cool the peas. He kept his eyes away from Carole's somber face as he worked. “His mom made sweet peas a lot. They're his favorite. But Burt doesn't like them so...” Blaine trailed off as he poured the peas into a red ceramic bowl.
“So Kurt doesn't get them. Peas...such and odd thing for a kid to like. I don't even know if Finn's ever seen a pea up close.” Blaine chuckled and picked out a spoon. After it tapered off the two of them stood quietly, trying not to look at each others sad faces. Carole could see that Blaine was itching to go upstairs but too polite to just leave her standing there. “Go on, you don't want them to get cold.” She waved him in the direction of the stairs but he still didn't move.
“Is there something I could make you Mrs. Hummel?” He was looking straight at her now, with wide earnest eyes and an open face. It made her chest ache.
“That's alright. You just go up and feed Kurt.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile. The way he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs told her she wasn't successful. Carole waited until she heard a door close to let herself cry. She was entitled to it.
Blaine felt horrible for just leaving Carole alone in the kitchen but Kurt did need him. If he was letting someone else make his sweet peas it was definitely serious. His best guess was that Kurt had time to process beyond 'Carson almost died' to 'my mother won't let me see him'. It had to be hard. His own parents, as awkward as they were with him sometimes, genuinely wanted him around. The way Kurt talked about his mother, who she was before the accident, it was clear that to him she'd hung the moon and the stars. The White Album was playing, it was about half way through. Kurt was lying on his stomach looking glum. “I've got sweet peas.” Blaine holds the bowl aloft, tempting Kurt to turn. He turns his head to Blaine, face half squished into his pillow. He offers Blaine a small smile but waits until he is climbing up onto the bed to actually sit up.
“When did you get here?” Kurt takes the bowl from Blaine and hugs it to his chest. He wastes no time digging in. The slight and fleeting scrunch in his nose tells Blaine that Carol did indeed overcook the peas. But Kurt keeps eating regardless.
“A few minutes ago.” The two of them sit quietly while the album plays out and Kurt eats. Steadily Kurt inches his way into Blaine's side until he's leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder and his bowl is empty. “Do you know if...will you be able to see him?” Kurt sighed and tucked his face into Blaine's neck and twined their fingers together.
“My dad's working it out. She's not saying no to it but she's...”
“Resisting?”
“Yeah. Resisting. I guess Carson asked for me though. So there's that.”
Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and kissed the crown of his head. “Did you think he wouldn't?” He can feel Kurt's frown and instantly nudges Kurt's legs. They push at each other a little until they're wrapped up in each other and Kurt is happier.
“It's not that he wouldn't want to see me it's just...Carson doesn't like to push mom. He tries not to deal with her because, just because. Things get crazy and I think Carson might be a little afraid that she'll regret it.” Kurt sighs and places a gentle kiss on Blaine's neck. He doesn't feel like a heated make out session right now but he wouldn't say no to some intense cuddling and sweet necking. Blaine isn't quite getting the picture, obviously still in comforting boyfriend mode. He kisses from Blaine's neck and up to his jaw and closes his lips around Blaine's earlobe.
A shiver goes through Blaine at the sudden onslaught. He wants to roll around with Kurt and press kisses everywhere there's skin but he can't quite get into it yet. He's still stuck on what Kurt said. What would she regret, choosing Carson or moving away? It would be a scary thing to think about and sad too. He wants to hold Kurt tight and shield him from every angry and nasty thing out in the world, which would not only be impossible but unwelcome. So he tries valiantly to ignore Kurt's sweet sucking kisses against his neck and remain a pillar of strength and comfort. The feel of lips and teeth clamping over his earlobe crumble his resolve. It's his ears, always his ears, his greatest weakness. He tried to be strong. Blaine held tighter to Kurt's hand and tried to pull his head away so he could rub noses with Kurt. Then Kurt sucked. Well, bathing his boyfriend in kisses could count as emotional support.