Melt to Sand; Glee
I'm sitting with 2000+ words of unfinished Rachel/Kurt, 1000+ words of unfinished Brittany/Kurt, 4000+ words unfinished of Finn/Kurt and an unfinished Puck/Kurt fic I started because the others began to stress me out.
... this is finished but idk how. Hastily. Honestly, the lack of this pairing in general depresses me a lot. Grammatical errors all fixed by the lovely merle_p.
Title: My Troubles Will All Melt To Sand
Pairings: Artie/Kurt get-together, with former Artie/Tina, Sam/Kurt, Kurt > Finn, and side Puck/Mercedes and brotherly!Finn/Kurt.
Summary: Grief counseling and support by the Glee Club, or 'How Artie Got Back On The Horse.'
MY TROUBLES WILL ALL MELT TO SAND
They spend their Winter blanketed in snow. (Spring comes much too fast; their home of ice melts in the sunlight, bleeds into bright green grass. Artie picks up all the scattered pieces left - four carrot noses of a wife and children, coal wet with water of old bodies, glistening on the black like tears - picks them up and stuffs them into the bottom of his bag before she sees them, his heart heavy.)
Summer is blinding, and the sun looms a furious white above them as they make the best of the heat. (Or she does, anyway. Artie’s back clings hot and sticky to his chair, and his arms tire more easily in the scorching weather, pushing his whole body over tarmac and dewy grass - that he has to twist awkwardly to touch with two straining fingers while it tickles the undersides of her feet all day long. He goes home early most days, exhausted, and she kisses his cheeks in goodbye; he leans his face against her lips and lingers as long as he can.)
It takes Artie (only) a year to connect all the signs and consider that maybe something is wrong here.
-
It doesn’t end badly, he makes sure. (Even before he talks, Tina grips his hand and starts to cry a little, and he realizes while telling her - and this isn’t because I don’t love you, really, it’s because I do, so much - he’s started too. His voice shakes and his hand squeezes hers enough to hurt; desperate to remember the feeling before he lets go. He’s already regretting it the second after he’s spoken, but there’s resigned acceptance in Tina’s eyes, and he realizes with his heart aching that maybe their breaking up isn’t so one-sided after all.)
They promise to stay friends. (But avoid each other completely for months, staying in touch solely through Mercedes.)
-
Artie spends the first few days wondering what they did wrong, where it went wrong, where they gave up. He wheels himself around in circles on Kurt’s lawn until Burt Hummel yells out the window that he isn’t having kids throwing up on his newly cut grass. Kurt smiles sympathetically when he stops, in the centre of the garden.
It’s summer, and he’s in appropriate shades of soft brown and red, with his hair slicked back and expression, patient. “I’m judging your carmine cardigan more than your love life at this point,” he tells Artie with a shrug. “You know, whenever you want to speak up, break into heartfelt song, inform me of your plan to win back her affections, anything. You aren’t pulling off depression very well, Artie.”
There’s a pause. Artie wades through jumbled thoughts, wades through the confusion and heartbreak and then he answers, quietly, “I think it was for the best.” It hurts a lot more to admit; hurts like a thousand days in summer spent tired in his chair, and the discovery of a melted family in his back garden that stood one too short day and lay as puddles the next. It hurts, so Artie says so, and Kurt waits another moment before picking himself up and walking to Artie’s side.
Kurt is living the same trainwreck adolescence as him, with the same bullies and insults, the same short-lived high school romances - although Tina was just the quiet girl from show choir, and Sam was the strapping jock who left Lima on a scholarship the year before, left Kurt nursing his first broken heart; Artie will never forget the day Kurt appeared in school in a white shirt and jeans, no hairspray or corset and not even the will to smile. Kurt is living the same heartbreak, so he can impart no words of wisdom or advice. He sits carefully perched on the arm of Artie’s chair, squeezes his shoulder and says softly: “It’s okay.”
(It hurts Artie a little more to think he might be right.)
-
Finn is a little more experienced in this department, but still not exactly helpful. Artie is staying in their house, eating dinner with them in their living room, looking for some guidance. It is common knowledge by this time that he’s broken up with Tina - also than he’s in a bit of a state over it, which he refuses to acknowledge - but Finn chooses to start off their conversation by saying around a mouthful of chicken, “Man, I miss Matt.”
Kurt glances up from the look of hopelessness stuck to Artie’s face and then stares at the oblivious smile spread across Finn’s like he’s both appalled and dumbfounded. Then he closes his mouth, starts picking at his food, and says primly, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Finn,” for what Artie imagines must be the hundredth time. Their new brotherhood is disconcerting; specifically because the old madly-in-love Kurt who would swoon at the sight of Finn’s dopey, awkward smile has disappeared, and now he's arguing over what to watch on the television and why Finn doesn’t have any say in the matter because he forgot to record 30 Rock last week.
Artie counts this as progress.
-
He’s never been big on crying. It isn’t out of masculine pride, isn’t out of heartlessness, it’s just not something he feels the need to do. He mourns Tina in a long weekend of playing the CD’s she’s left in his room on repeat until he can sing along - or scream, Tina’s music consists mostly of screaming.
“This is just getting sad,” Mercedes says when she turns off the stereo. Quinn bags CD'S away at her side, looking a little amused while Mercedes just shakes her head. She scowls down at the case of Avenged Sevenfold and asks, “Boy, what happened to McFly?”
-
Coping with lovesickness is not Puck’s specialty.
They’re sitting in Artie’s bedroom, because Puck has made a habit out of dropping by unannounced, eating all Artie’s food, commenting on his ‘hot’ mom, and playing his 360. There’s a strange silence - normally filled by Puck talking more eloquently than he ever does about why Bioshock is better than any sex, ever - with Puck acting oddly shifty and being just a little bad at Guitar Hero. He abruptly presses pause on his controller, then sits quiet a little longer, thoughtful.
His hand weighs down Artie’s shoulder. When he turns, Puck is staring him in the face, looking vaguely concerned. “You’re doing okay,” Puck says; he doesn’t ask, he just tells him, and there’s enough conviction in his voice that Artie finds himself nodding.
Puck lets him go and they start playing again, although he’s still losing the song to Artie enough to embarrass them both, and Artie can’t fully process what just happened.
He turns to look Puck in the eye when his part in the song stops briefly. “You’re doing shit terrible,” Artie tells him firmly, and Puck makes a vicious scowl before he kicks Artie’s chair away from him. Artie just laughs as he rolls, only a foot away. (But still winning.)
-
Mercedes is mostly busy consoling Tina, but even when they get to talk she seems a little more strained with him, a little annoyed. “It’s not you,” Kurt assures him. They’re out for a meal together and she‘s gone to the bathroom. Kurt pats his hand, then he sips on his strawberry daiquiri, entirely nonchalant while he says around the straw, “It’s Puck. He‘s totally in love with her. It’s driving her crazy.”
Finn nods, and adds equally as indifferently, “Totally. When he picked me up yesterday, Debbie Gibson came on the radio, and he had to pull over and cry for ten minutes.”
Artie chokes a little on his Coke during this information, and there is a moment where his mind refuses to absorb it at all. It makes him feel slightly better that someone’s enduring worse than he is - Mercedes really hates Puck - and it makes him feel a little bad it has to be a friend. Artie pauses. “Hopefully this explains why his default ringtone went from offensive Eminem rap to Lost In Your Eyes?”
“Probably,” Finn replies with a shrug.
“That, and Eminem is just awful,” Kurt interjects. Finn takes instant offence and they both start arguing again - “Kurt, you have Electric Six as your ringtone.” “As a joke; Santana put it on. Do you think I enjoyed the words I’ve got something to put in you blaring from my phone in the middle of a date?” “… Didn‘t you say that totally got you laid?” - but the sound of Mercedes yelling interrupts them.
“Who gave you my new number? … I‘m finding out either way, and I‘m cutting them. And I don’t want anymore of your damn chocolate, either. Now stop calling me.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes his drink away. “Tell your best friend he’s so pathetic he’s killed my buzz. And shame on you, giving him the poor girl’s number.” Kurt tuts at Finn disapprovingly, who in turn just shrugs. Artie watches Mercedes storm back to the chair beside him and drink the rest of Kurt’s cocktail in one. Finn glances at her, frowning.
He leans over to Artie and murmurs, “She isn’t the one suffering the most.”
-
Most of the time, Artie hangs around Kurt, a little lost as to what to do with himself. For the most part, Kurt is sympathetic, but as the days go on, he becomes a little more snippy with him, a little more concerned about him.
“I hate all the break-up melodrama,” Kurt sighs, rolling his eyes. “Are you dead? No. Are you dying? No. Does she live across your street? Yes. You can‘t put your life on hold for the past.” There isn’t enough firmness in his voice to be believed, and his hand is still lying spread on Artie’s forearm, almost bracing them both for a collapse. His eyes flicker from Artie to the screen constantly, and Artie's never liked people worrying about him.
“I’ll mope a little longer before I get back on my horse. And hopefully a willing Rachel McAdams while we’re at it - I’ll tell her to put a good word in for you to the big RDJ as well.”
Kurt smiles and Artie’s shoulders relax.
-
The whole glee club is forced onto a party line phonecall by a determined Rachel.
“I say it’s time for interference. Puck is obviously as obsessed with loving Mercedes as Mercedes is with hating him, so I think it’s best to resolve it before either of them are hurt. One of us should talk to her and convince her otherwise - even if Puck’s a bad guy, she’s perfect for straightening him out, it’s a classic romance story. I vote Kurt.”
“I vote no. We’re not persuading her into a relationship with Lima’s own town bicycle. I’m not risking my girl syphilis.”
It’s mostly a lot of Rachel, Kurt, Finn and Santana yelling at each other. Occasionally Brittany interjects with something irrelevant, but Artie makes a point to keep his mouth shut.
(“He isn’t a bad guy,” Artie had said. The imprint of a shoe on his left wheel had begged to differ, so he’d tried again, “He isn’t the worst guy. He cares this much, that means something.” A piece of Artie had felt indebted to Puck for his small act of kindness, and he’d figured if he helped a brother out, that brother would quit flirting with his mom.
He’d flashed Mercedes his salesman smile, squeezed her hand and said honestly, “You’d be good for each other.”)
-
Puck texts him the next day:
I’m doing awesome.
Artie smiles. (And for the first time in a while, his stomach twists and he misses Tina.)
-
They’re in Artie’s bedroom, confronting him about the new and sudden couple.
“It was a grand change of heart. A miracle of Jesus’ own calibre. Nobody‘s business but their own.” He shrugs.
He expects Kurt to look suspicious, but his lips are twitching knowingly. Finn reaches over with a grin and says, “You’re a lifesaver, man.”
“Not to mention a filthy meddler,” Kurt adds, although he doesn‘t sound as though it bothers him, his smile small. (And pretty.)
-
Boredom washes over him during the slow vacation. Puck stops coming over - opting instead only to text candid photos of an unimpressed Mercedes every once in a while - and Finn and Kurt are both busy doing Finn’s last minute kind of huge Spanish assignment - “I don‘t believe you left it so late.” “I don‘t believe you didn‘t even remind me, man!” - but Mike and Matt invite him to Modern Warfare 2 tournaments, and sometimes Quinn comes over and uses his kitchen to bake. She’s still trying to redeem herself after years of being mean to the club, but her awkward niceness isn’t lost on him, and his house filling with the scent of apple pie is never a bad thing, either.
“It’s hot,” she warns him, after he’s already burnt his tongue a little. She sits a little too stiffly, eats too warily, before she comes out and says, “Have you spoke to her yet?”
Artie avoids her gaze and tells her, “This is delicious.”
She hesitates. “You were so close,” she says softly. Her hand brushes his face, light. (Artie’s been thinking that too, lately, that even when they weren’t dating he had fun around her. There’s a gap in this summer he can’t ignore, normally filled by Tina taking him everywhere, braiding his hair and sticking it up in clips and laughing hysterically. He misses her friendship.)
“I’ll call,” he says. Quinn smiles at him.
-
They talk.
Tina almost crushes him in a hug. He ends up apologizing a lot, and she ends up doing it too, and they talk about what they’ve missed and Mercedes and Puck and how weird it is, and end up eating the leftovers of Quinn’s apple pie and playing cards on his bed-spread. They play Chase the Lady. (They draw.)
-
It’s a relief.
“Do you ever talk to Sam?” Artie asks carefully. They’re in the garage; Kurt’s dad asked him to help out before he left for lunch, said something like, “I don’t trust Finn around the screwdrivers,” that made Kurt and Artie snort. He’s fiddling, half buried under the hood of some car, humming to himself, but when Artie asks, he stops.
There is a moment of heavy silence. Artie opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back.
Kurt pulls himself away from the engine, turns his back to Artie while he tugs off his coveralls and says, “Sam can go to hell.” He closes the hood; a snap. “Let’s get lunch.”
On the car ride over, Finn holds up most of the conversation, and at one point, gets annoyed enough with their quietness that he switches the radio of and starts singing as loud as he can, “I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar, gay bar -” then Kurt and Artie aim punches at him, and he stops.
“What’s with all the tension?” Finn asks, rubbing his bruised arm. (“Who died?” a second later.)
-
They don’t say anything about it during lunch. Artie is sat beside Kurt, awkwardly, and across from Tina, who smiles and waves at him. It’s the whole club at a table, most of whom spend the meal shooting obligatory looks of discomfort and surprise at the way Puck trails after Mercedes - “It’s spicy.” “Too spicy?” “Just spicy.” “Like, send it back spicy? Or like, you need more water spicy? We can totally get more, half the waiters here still shit their pants when they see me.” - and the way Artie and Tina have become almost normal again. Kurt makes like he always does and forgets his problems in the car, talking to Artie animatedly about why a restaurant can still be terrible even if the food is good.
“Look at the curtains, Artie. It looks like a customer threw up the Banana Sundae Delight and nobody ever bothered to clean it,” he hisses. He makes a face and downs the rest of his drink.
“That makes me strangely hungry,” Artie says, and Kurt laughs.
(He asks Finn about Sam in the parking lot while Kurt’s away - in avid discussion with the girls. Finn frowns at first. “Sam’s studying in New York,” he says, then quieter, “He got some girl over there knocked up a while back.” Artie makes all the right assumptions and Finn gives him this face that tells him not to bring it up again.)
-
“Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here,” Mercedes calls him to say out of the blue, “I don’t mind or anything. You know - you’d be good for each other.” Artie listens to the message over and over again but it doesn’t help him understand what she’s talking about at all.
-
Things are easier after this, after reconciling with Tina. Most his time taken up by fretting over going back to school with his friends or hanging around them all, mostly doing nothing. Puck starts visiting him again under Artie’s rule that he may not mention a word about Mercedes - a rule that is broken in record time - and Kurt and Finn have more spare time after the whole homework debacle works out.
“Honestly?” Kurt says to him, sitting on the grass across from his chair. He glances at the open window in his house, checking, and then tells him, quieter, “It sounds terrible, but I’m sick of Finn. There’s only so much time you can spend with one friend, and I’m afraid twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for a whole year has been just too much on me.”
“Understandably.” Although this half-worries Artie that his staying over at the house as much might stop being fun for them both if it continues.
Kurt heaves a sigh, playing with the padding of the wheelchair’s armrest. “I don’t mean to hang around you all the time either. Everything’s just kind of - stressful.” He sinks into himself a little, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. He sits his chin in the crook of his elbow and a breeze draws his bangs in the opposite direction, making him frown.
“No worries, broseph,” Artie says, holding his hands up in reassurance. A part of him is a little worried still - could be the lighting or the lack of a girlfriend, but lately, spread out in the backyard with him in the sunlight every day, Artie can’t quash the thought that Kurt might be a little beautiful. (Even if today’s outfit consists of multicolour dungarees, bracelets and a violet bandana. This is when Artie knows he’s in trouble. )
-
He doesn’t stop coming over, though. Sometimes, he feels a little see through, like he’s been caught staring, or caught wanting:
“You taste just like glitter mixed with rock and roll,” Kurt sings by his side.
(“I like you a lot, lot, think you’re really hot, hot,” Artie continues.)
-
Puck has taken well to shocking people lately. He demonstrates this again by wowing Artie with his detective skills, half-way through his shot at Mario Galaxy 2. Artie’s phone goes off, and Puck makes and incredulous face at him.
“Dude, Electric Six?” he says. “That’s the same ringtone as… oh.”
Artie bristles. “What? Does ‘Gay Bar’ hold some significance to you, Puck?”
Puck doesn’t reply with an insult, or look away from the screen. He just says, one eyebrow raised, “You spend half your time taking the guy on mall dates or getting your Brokeback Mountain on in his garden. How didn’t I see this before?” Then, at the alarmed look on Artie’s face he adds, “Relax, man. No big deal. Everybody’s gay sometimes.”
“Everybody?” Artie echoes.
Puck’s sticking his tongue out in concentration as he button mashes. “Well,” he says thoughtfully, “Everybody but me.”
-
It happens almost overnight.
Burt gives him looks when he comes in the house. Carole shoots him approving smiles. Finn stops hanging around with Kurt when he’s around; “Wouldn’t want to impose,” he murmurs quietly to Artie, grinning and nudging his side. The first time, Artie gets a solid punch at his stomach and Finn staggers and swears not to say anything again. (Liar.) Artie’s cheeks go red, frustrated at being so transparent - it’s the tiniest crush and it’s this obvious - and it only makes matters worse when he visits one particularly warm Summer’s day to find Kurt barely clothed. He feels like his face has caught fire.
“Sunburn?” Kurt asks curiously over the rim of his shades.
Artie stiffens. “Something like that.”
-
Rachel takes them all on a picnic the last week of the holidays. “My two gay dads said,” she starts and then Artie’s mind kind of derails from the conversation completely. It’s some huge park, and the weather’s cooled down; they don’t have many options over activity asides from the ones Rachel’s carefully laid out, although Puck sometimes pulls away from them to terrify some of the kids running around. Half-way during, Santana makes to leave, and she’d be gone if not for the face Brittany makes at her.
“Can we speed this up Berry? You might not believe it, but some of us have better things to do during our Summer Vacation.”
“I went to see Toy Story last night,” Brittany adds helpfully.
With Rachel overeagerly hosting, it’s a little painful to sit through, but they all manage, and despite every one of the food choices being animal-friendly vegan, it isn’t that bad a day. Finn and Kurt sneak some bacon on the side and discretely hand it out to other Glee members in need.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Kurt says, passing his sandwich to Artie for a bite. “I love Rachel. But the admittedly small all-American, barbeque loving part of me loves red-meat a lot more.” (His loose shirt slips a little low while he’s talking, exposing a bony shoulder, and Artie can’t form a reply until Kurt absentmindedly tugs it back up.)
“Amen,” he agrees belatedly. Thankfully, Rachel’s too distracted being taught by Quinn and Mike how to kick a football to notice the smell of bacon in the air, and everybody else is too distracted discussing how whipped Puck is to notice when Kurt leans down to open Artie’s collar - “Too many layers. In this heat, you’ll wear yourself out.” - and Artie presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Everybody except Kurt, that is, who lets the adjusted button go, straightens, and walks in the opposite direction to where Mercedes and Finn are recreating classic duets, without looking back.
-
Artie doesn’t visit for a while, refusing to become desperate; the new Puck. He gets a variety of texts from friends about it: Finn sends about four a day asking about where the plan to woo his brother’s innocent heart went wrong; Puck sends him a handful simply saying, you pussy; Mercedes sends a bunch of berating messages asking what the hell he did to her boy; Quinn sends just one, and it says, time to get back on the horse already. (He also gets two from Mike, one saying, do you think i can do the triple backflip, and the following, dude i think i broke my ass.)
Tina calls.
“Is it a guilt thing? Because you don’t need to feel bad, if you’re gay, you’re gay.”
It’s all very awkward and she’s enthusiastic enough about it that he ends up getting freaked out and hanging up at number 42 on her ‘reasons why you guys would be adorable’ rant. Having her blessing is nice and all, it’s sweet and totally creepy of her, but Artie just doesn’t really think he’s gay. (He thinks Kurt’s just that hot.) He never had a problem with Kurt's sexuality - although he did have when Kurt tried to go straight - but he figured he was just a good friend, being supportive.
His choices on discussing the subject are limited to Rachel’s two gay dads - “They’re happy to help!” - or Finn. Artie opts for the latter.
“Kurt’s weird lately,” Finn says, sprawling on Artie’s bed. “He’s been fixing some like, ridiculously handsome guy's car for ages, and after, he pretty much offered Kurt sex. Kurt didn’t even take it; I would have taken sex from that guy.”
Something in Artie’s face spasms uncontrollably during this information.
Finn sits up on his elbows and looks at him. “After that whole thing with Sam, I’m pretty sure Kurt isn’t going for straight guys who’re 'just checking.' Ever. I don’t mean to bum you out man, I’m just saying as the kind-of brother and kind-of former interest, if you’re doing this, you gotta be serious about it.” Finn’s face has gone a little stern, and his eyes are more intent than Artie knew they could go.
(… It’s kind of attractive.)
Artie clears his throat, flushing. “Uh,” he begins, shifting, “I think we’re pretty good. And bisexual.”
Finn shrugs. “I’m okay with bisexual.”
-
It takes Artie a few days and a few uninspired pep-talks courtesy of Noah Puckerman to make it to Kurt’s front door. Of course, because he isn’t scared enough, Burt Hummel answers, all solemn and judging and Artie almost dies when the corner of his mouth twitches down at him. “I’ll call him down,” he says.
Artie squeaks.
There is a moment of wait in which Artie considers wheeling himself back down the street or into the conveniently nearby lamppost, but Kurt appears in the doorway, all sharp eyed and tight lipped. (Also wearing this chequered shirt that does wonders for his lithe form, but Artie can appreciate that later.)
Before he can speak, Kurt comes outside and pulls him away, ignoring his protests, and leads him on a walk. “Kurt,” Artie starts when they’ve gotten out of view of the house, “I get that this is weird.”
Kurt doesn’t say anything. He keeps pushing Artie’s wheelchair, fingertips tapping the fabric beside his head every once and a while. It’s just a little unnerving.
“I wouldn’t even try if I thought it wasn’t going to get us anywhere, or it wasn’t going to last. I really wouldn‘t.”
Their pace doesn’t even falter. Artie shuts his eyes.
“I like you. A lot.” There are a list of things he’s about to say to elaborate on this - for example, Kurt’s eyes and lips and ass and the way before they go out to spend hours doing nothing in his garden Kurt will dot Artie’s nose in a little sun-tan lotion - but Kurt interrupts by stopping them both on the middle of the pathway. Artie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, anxious.
He can hear the sandals Kurt was bragging about for weeks padding on the ground as he walks around the chair. He stops, facing Artie, both his hands on the armrests. One slides a little, brushes Artie’s elbow, and the extent of his nerves is becoming shameful. “Is it bitchy on Tina if I outright say I’m just a tad hot for you?” Kurt says quietly. Artie is so surprised that he laughs, and wastes no time meeting his hand with Kurt’s and lacing their fingers together. Kurt watches, smiling. “She said to draw the process out to gain control. She also said you’d make a lovely top.” While saying it, Kurt blushes.
Artie grins at him. “You have no idea.”
As if to prove a point, he pulls Kurt to fall onto his lap and kisses him again; except this time, Kurt‘s mouth welcomes him and something majestic in Artie‘s heart sings. “I’m no easy feat,” Kurt warns against his mouth when Artie’s hands slip past his waist, although he doesn’t exactly make to tug them away. “Also, my dad lives about thirty seconds from here and owns an impressive collection of fire-arms.”
Artie’s hands drop back to the wheels instantly. He pauses, then says as an afterthought, “Does he mind his son riding in another boy’s lap the way home though?”
“Most likely. On the other hand, I don’t.”
-
School is weird the first day back. By this time, everyone in Glee has exchanged dozens of Artie and Kurt jokes - and literally thousands on Puck and Mercedes - and when the step into the choir room, they’re met by wolf-whistles, sex simulations, and a lot of squealing girls. Kurt lets go of his hand instantly. “It’s been two days,” he points out blankly. “That’s it. Finn, you talked.”
“I’m supportive.”
“So am I,” Mr Schuester agrees with a great, embarrassing smile. He puts a hand on Artie and Kurt’s backs, and says, “I’m happy for you boys.”
They go to their seats, where Puck bumps his fist, Tina and Rachel practically flail in their chairs, Santana gives him a toneless, “Finally,” and Kurt says, “I immediately regret this decision.”
Artie grins. “Lies.”
“But only a little.”
-
When Winter comes, Kurt is adamant to refuse going outside, claiming the cold does terrible things to his skin, and they just sit in his bedroom watching a lot of bad television - and totally making out all the time because Kurt’s dad stops the lectures pretty quickly - and listening to Kurt commentate The Hills and why rich people should be under legal obligation to dress nice. Most of the time, Kurt’s lying half on his carpet with his head on Artie’s lap, smiling, and Artie thinks this is something he could get used to.
... this is finished but idk how. Hastily. Honestly, the lack of this pairing in general depresses me a lot. Grammatical errors all fixed by the lovely merle_p.
Title: My Troubles Will All Melt To Sand
Pairings: Artie/Kurt get-together, with former Artie/Tina, Sam/Kurt, Kurt > Finn, and side Puck/Mercedes and brotherly!Finn/Kurt.
Summary: Grief counseling and support by the Glee Club, or 'How Artie Got Back On The Horse.'
MY TROUBLES WILL ALL MELT TO SAND
They spend their Winter blanketed in snow. (Spring comes much too fast; their home of ice melts in the sunlight, bleeds into bright green grass. Artie picks up all the scattered pieces left - four carrot noses of a wife and children, coal wet with water of old bodies, glistening on the black like tears - picks them up and stuffs them into the bottom of his bag before she sees them, his heart heavy.)
Summer is blinding, and the sun looms a furious white above them as they make the best of the heat. (Or she does, anyway. Artie’s back clings hot and sticky to his chair, and his arms tire more easily in the scorching weather, pushing his whole body over tarmac and dewy grass - that he has to twist awkwardly to touch with two straining fingers while it tickles the undersides of her feet all day long. He goes home early most days, exhausted, and she kisses his cheeks in goodbye; he leans his face against her lips and lingers as long as he can.)
It takes Artie (only) a year to connect all the signs and consider that maybe something is wrong here.
-
It doesn’t end badly, he makes sure. (Even before he talks, Tina grips his hand and starts to cry a little, and he realizes while telling her - and this isn’t because I don’t love you, really, it’s because I do, so much - he’s started too. His voice shakes and his hand squeezes hers enough to hurt; desperate to remember the feeling before he lets go. He’s already regretting it the second after he’s spoken, but there’s resigned acceptance in Tina’s eyes, and he realizes with his heart aching that maybe their breaking up isn’t so one-sided after all.)
They promise to stay friends. (But avoid each other completely for months, staying in touch solely through Mercedes.)
-
Artie spends the first few days wondering what they did wrong, where it went wrong, where they gave up. He wheels himself around in circles on Kurt’s lawn until Burt Hummel yells out the window that he isn’t having kids throwing up on his newly cut grass. Kurt smiles sympathetically when he stops, in the centre of the garden.
It’s summer, and he’s in appropriate shades of soft brown and red, with his hair slicked back and expression, patient. “I’m judging your carmine cardigan more than your love life at this point,” he tells Artie with a shrug. “You know, whenever you want to speak up, break into heartfelt song, inform me of your plan to win back her affections, anything. You aren’t pulling off depression very well, Artie.”
There’s a pause. Artie wades through jumbled thoughts, wades through the confusion and heartbreak and then he answers, quietly, “I think it was for the best.” It hurts a lot more to admit; hurts like a thousand days in summer spent tired in his chair, and the discovery of a melted family in his back garden that stood one too short day and lay as puddles the next. It hurts, so Artie says so, and Kurt waits another moment before picking himself up and walking to Artie’s side.
Kurt is living the same trainwreck adolescence as him, with the same bullies and insults, the same short-lived high school romances - although Tina was just the quiet girl from show choir, and Sam was the strapping jock who left Lima on a scholarship the year before, left Kurt nursing his first broken heart; Artie will never forget the day Kurt appeared in school in a white shirt and jeans, no hairspray or corset and not even the will to smile. Kurt is living the same heartbreak, so he can impart no words of wisdom or advice. He sits carefully perched on the arm of Artie’s chair, squeezes his shoulder and says softly: “It’s okay.”
(It hurts Artie a little more to think he might be right.)
-
Finn is a little more experienced in this department, but still not exactly helpful. Artie is staying in their house, eating dinner with them in their living room, looking for some guidance. It is common knowledge by this time that he’s broken up with Tina - also than he’s in a bit of a state over it, which he refuses to acknowledge - but Finn chooses to start off their conversation by saying around a mouthful of chicken, “Man, I miss Matt.”
Kurt glances up from the look of hopelessness stuck to Artie’s face and then stares at the oblivious smile spread across Finn’s like he’s both appalled and dumbfounded. Then he closes his mouth, starts picking at his food, and says primly, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Finn,” for what Artie imagines must be the hundredth time. Their new brotherhood is disconcerting; specifically because the old madly-in-love Kurt who would swoon at the sight of Finn’s dopey, awkward smile has disappeared, and now he's arguing over what to watch on the television and why Finn doesn’t have any say in the matter because he forgot to record 30 Rock last week.
Artie counts this as progress.
-
He’s never been big on crying. It isn’t out of masculine pride, isn’t out of heartlessness, it’s just not something he feels the need to do. He mourns Tina in a long weekend of playing the CD’s she’s left in his room on repeat until he can sing along - or scream, Tina’s music consists mostly of screaming.
“This is just getting sad,” Mercedes says when she turns off the stereo. Quinn bags CD'S away at her side, looking a little amused while Mercedes just shakes her head. She scowls down at the case of Avenged Sevenfold and asks, “Boy, what happened to McFly?”
-
Coping with lovesickness is not Puck’s specialty.
They’re sitting in Artie’s bedroom, because Puck has made a habit out of dropping by unannounced, eating all Artie’s food, commenting on his ‘hot’ mom, and playing his 360. There’s a strange silence - normally filled by Puck talking more eloquently than he ever does about why Bioshock is better than any sex, ever - with Puck acting oddly shifty and being just a little bad at Guitar Hero. He abruptly presses pause on his controller, then sits quiet a little longer, thoughtful.
His hand weighs down Artie’s shoulder. When he turns, Puck is staring him in the face, looking vaguely concerned. “You’re doing okay,” Puck says; he doesn’t ask, he just tells him, and there’s enough conviction in his voice that Artie finds himself nodding.
Puck lets him go and they start playing again, although he’s still losing the song to Artie enough to embarrass them both, and Artie can’t fully process what just happened.
He turns to look Puck in the eye when his part in the song stops briefly. “You’re doing shit terrible,” Artie tells him firmly, and Puck makes a vicious scowl before he kicks Artie’s chair away from him. Artie just laughs as he rolls, only a foot away. (But still winning.)
-
Mercedes is mostly busy consoling Tina, but even when they get to talk she seems a little more strained with him, a little annoyed. “It’s not you,” Kurt assures him. They’re out for a meal together and she‘s gone to the bathroom. Kurt pats his hand, then he sips on his strawberry daiquiri, entirely nonchalant while he says around the straw, “It’s Puck. He‘s totally in love with her. It’s driving her crazy.”
Finn nods, and adds equally as indifferently, “Totally. When he picked me up yesterday, Debbie Gibson came on the radio, and he had to pull over and cry for ten minutes.”
Artie chokes a little on his Coke during this information, and there is a moment where his mind refuses to absorb it at all. It makes him feel slightly better that someone’s enduring worse than he is - Mercedes really hates Puck - and it makes him feel a little bad it has to be a friend. Artie pauses. “Hopefully this explains why his default ringtone went from offensive Eminem rap to Lost In Your Eyes?”
“Probably,” Finn replies with a shrug.
“That, and Eminem is just awful,” Kurt interjects. Finn takes instant offence and they both start arguing again - “Kurt, you have Electric Six as your ringtone.” “As a joke; Santana put it on. Do you think I enjoyed the words I’ve got something to put in you blaring from my phone in the middle of a date?” “… Didn‘t you say that totally got you laid?” - but the sound of Mercedes yelling interrupts them.
“Who gave you my new number? … I‘m finding out either way, and I‘m cutting them. And I don’t want anymore of your damn chocolate, either. Now stop calling me.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes his drink away. “Tell your best friend he’s so pathetic he’s killed my buzz. And shame on you, giving him the poor girl’s number.” Kurt tuts at Finn disapprovingly, who in turn just shrugs. Artie watches Mercedes storm back to the chair beside him and drink the rest of Kurt’s cocktail in one. Finn glances at her, frowning.
He leans over to Artie and murmurs, “She isn’t the one suffering the most.”
-
Most of the time, Artie hangs around Kurt, a little lost as to what to do with himself. For the most part, Kurt is sympathetic, but as the days go on, he becomes a little more snippy with him, a little more concerned about him.
“I hate all the break-up melodrama,” Kurt sighs, rolling his eyes. “Are you dead? No. Are you dying? No. Does she live across your street? Yes. You can‘t put your life on hold for the past.” There isn’t enough firmness in his voice to be believed, and his hand is still lying spread on Artie’s forearm, almost bracing them both for a collapse. His eyes flicker from Artie to the screen constantly, and Artie's never liked people worrying about him.
“I’ll mope a little longer before I get back on my horse. And hopefully a willing Rachel McAdams while we’re at it - I’ll tell her to put a good word in for you to the big RDJ as well.”
Kurt smiles and Artie’s shoulders relax.
-
The whole glee club is forced onto a party line phonecall by a determined Rachel.
“I say it’s time for interference. Puck is obviously as obsessed with loving Mercedes as Mercedes is with hating him, so I think it’s best to resolve it before either of them are hurt. One of us should talk to her and convince her otherwise - even if Puck’s a bad guy, she’s perfect for straightening him out, it’s a classic romance story. I vote Kurt.”
“I vote no. We’re not persuading her into a relationship with Lima’s own town bicycle. I’m not risking my girl syphilis.”
It’s mostly a lot of Rachel, Kurt, Finn and Santana yelling at each other. Occasionally Brittany interjects with something irrelevant, but Artie makes a point to keep his mouth shut.
(“He isn’t a bad guy,” Artie had said. The imprint of a shoe on his left wheel had begged to differ, so he’d tried again, “He isn’t the worst guy. He cares this much, that means something.” A piece of Artie had felt indebted to Puck for his small act of kindness, and he’d figured if he helped a brother out, that brother would quit flirting with his mom.
He’d flashed Mercedes his salesman smile, squeezed her hand and said honestly, “You’d be good for each other.”)
-
Puck texts him the next day:
I’m doing awesome.
Artie smiles. (And for the first time in a while, his stomach twists and he misses Tina.)
-
They’re in Artie’s bedroom, confronting him about the new and sudden couple.
“It was a grand change of heart. A miracle of Jesus’ own calibre. Nobody‘s business but their own.” He shrugs.
He expects Kurt to look suspicious, but his lips are twitching knowingly. Finn reaches over with a grin and says, “You’re a lifesaver, man.”
“Not to mention a filthy meddler,” Kurt adds, although he doesn‘t sound as though it bothers him, his smile small. (And pretty.)
-
Boredom washes over him during the slow vacation. Puck stops coming over - opting instead only to text candid photos of an unimpressed Mercedes every once in a while - and Finn and Kurt are both busy doing Finn’s last minute kind of huge Spanish assignment - “I don‘t believe you left it so late.” “I don‘t believe you didn‘t even remind me, man!” - but Mike and Matt invite him to Modern Warfare 2 tournaments, and sometimes Quinn comes over and uses his kitchen to bake. She’s still trying to redeem herself after years of being mean to the club, but her awkward niceness isn’t lost on him, and his house filling with the scent of apple pie is never a bad thing, either.
“It’s hot,” she warns him, after he’s already burnt his tongue a little. She sits a little too stiffly, eats too warily, before she comes out and says, “Have you spoke to her yet?”
Artie avoids her gaze and tells her, “This is delicious.”
She hesitates. “You were so close,” she says softly. Her hand brushes his face, light. (Artie’s been thinking that too, lately, that even when they weren’t dating he had fun around her. There’s a gap in this summer he can’t ignore, normally filled by Tina taking him everywhere, braiding his hair and sticking it up in clips and laughing hysterically. He misses her friendship.)
“I’ll call,” he says. Quinn smiles at him.
-
They talk.
Tina almost crushes him in a hug. He ends up apologizing a lot, and she ends up doing it too, and they talk about what they’ve missed and Mercedes and Puck and how weird it is, and end up eating the leftovers of Quinn’s apple pie and playing cards on his bed-spread. They play Chase the Lady. (They draw.)
-
It’s a relief.
“Do you ever talk to Sam?” Artie asks carefully. They’re in the garage; Kurt’s dad asked him to help out before he left for lunch, said something like, “I don’t trust Finn around the screwdrivers,” that made Kurt and Artie snort. He’s fiddling, half buried under the hood of some car, humming to himself, but when Artie asks, he stops.
There is a moment of heavy silence. Artie opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back.
Kurt pulls himself away from the engine, turns his back to Artie while he tugs off his coveralls and says, “Sam can go to hell.” He closes the hood; a snap. “Let’s get lunch.”
On the car ride over, Finn holds up most of the conversation, and at one point, gets annoyed enough with their quietness that he switches the radio of and starts singing as loud as he can, “I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar, gay bar -” then Kurt and Artie aim punches at him, and he stops.
“What’s with all the tension?” Finn asks, rubbing his bruised arm. (“Who died?” a second later.)
-
They don’t say anything about it during lunch. Artie is sat beside Kurt, awkwardly, and across from Tina, who smiles and waves at him. It’s the whole club at a table, most of whom spend the meal shooting obligatory looks of discomfort and surprise at the way Puck trails after Mercedes - “It’s spicy.” “Too spicy?” “Just spicy.” “Like, send it back spicy? Or like, you need more water spicy? We can totally get more, half the waiters here still shit their pants when they see me.” - and the way Artie and Tina have become almost normal again. Kurt makes like he always does and forgets his problems in the car, talking to Artie animatedly about why a restaurant can still be terrible even if the food is good.
“Look at the curtains, Artie. It looks like a customer threw up the Banana Sundae Delight and nobody ever bothered to clean it,” he hisses. He makes a face and downs the rest of his drink.
“That makes me strangely hungry,” Artie says, and Kurt laughs.
(He asks Finn about Sam in the parking lot while Kurt’s away - in avid discussion with the girls. Finn frowns at first. “Sam’s studying in New York,” he says, then quieter, “He got some girl over there knocked up a while back.” Artie makes all the right assumptions and Finn gives him this face that tells him not to bring it up again.)
-
“Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here,” Mercedes calls him to say out of the blue, “I don’t mind or anything. You know - you’d be good for each other.” Artie listens to the message over and over again but it doesn’t help him understand what she’s talking about at all.
-
Things are easier after this, after reconciling with Tina. Most his time taken up by fretting over going back to school with his friends or hanging around them all, mostly doing nothing. Puck starts visiting him again under Artie’s rule that he may not mention a word about Mercedes - a rule that is broken in record time - and Kurt and Finn have more spare time after the whole homework debacle works out.
“Honestly?” Kurt says to him, sitting on the grass across from his chair. He glances at the open window in his house, checking, and then tells him, quieter, “It sounds terrible, but I’m sick of Finn. There’s only so much time you can spend with one friend, and I’m afraid twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for a whole year has been just too much on me.”
“Understandably.” Although this half-worries Artie that his staying over at the house as much might stop being fun for them both if it continues.
Kurt heaves a sigh, playing with the padding of the wheelchair’s armrest. “I don’t mean to hang around you all the time either. Everything’s just kind of - stressful.” He sinks into himself a little, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. He sits his chin in the crook of his elbow and a breeze draws his bangs in the opposite direction, making him frown.
“No worries, broseph,” Artie says, holding his hands up in reassurance. A part of him is a little worried still - could be the lighting or the lack of a girlfriend, but lately, spread out in the backyard with him in the sunlight every day, Artie can’t quash the thought that Kurt might be a little beautiful. (Even if today’s outfit consists of multicolour dungarees, bracelets and a violet bandana. This is when Artie knows he’s in trouble. )
-
He doesn’t stop coming over, though. Sometimes, he feels a little see through, like he’s been caught staring, or caught wanting:
“You taste just like glitter mixed with rock and roll,” Kurt sings by his side.
(“I like you a lot, lot, think you’re really hot, hot,” Artie continues.)
-
Puck has taken well to shocking people lately. He demonstrates this again by wowing Artie with his detective skills, half-way through his shot at Mario Galaxy 2. Artie’s phone goes off, and Puck makes and incredulous face at him.
“Dude, Electric Six?” he says. “That’s the same ringtone as… oh.”
Artie bristles. “What? Does ‘Gay Bar’ hold some significance to you, Puck?”
Puck doesn’t reply with an insult, or look away from the screen. He just says, one eyebrow raised, “You spend half your time taking the guy on mall dates or getting your Brokeback Mountain on in his garden. How didn’t I see this before?” Then, at the alarmed look on Artie’s face he adds, “Relax, man. No big deal. Everybody’s gay sometimes.”
“Everybody?” Artie echoes.
Puck’s sticking his tongue out in concentration as he button mashes. “Well,” he says thoughtfully, “Everybody but me.”
-
It happens almost overnight.
Burt gives him looks when he comes in the house. Carole shoots him approving smiles. Finn stops hanging around with Kurt when he’s around; “Wouldn’t want to impose,” he murmurs quietly to Artie, grinning and nudging his side. The first time, Artie gets a solid punch at his stomach and Finn staggers and swears not to say anything again. (Liar.) Artie’s cheeks go red, frustrated at being so transparent - it’s the tiniest crush and it’s this obvious - and it only makes matters worse when he visits one particularly warm Summer’s day to find Kurt barely clothed. He feels like his face has caught fire.
“Sunburn?” Kurt asks curiously over the rim of his shades.
Artie stiffens. “Something like that.”
-
Rachel takes them all on a picnic the last week of the holidays. “My two gay dads said,” she starts and then Artie’s mind kind of derails from the conversation completely. It’s some huge park, and the weather’s cooled down; they don’t have many options over activity asides from the ones Rachel’s carefully laid out, although Puck sometimes pulls away from them to terrify some of the kids running around. Half-way during, Santana makes to leave, and she’d be gone if not for the face Brittany makes at her.
“Can we speed this up Berry? You might not believe it, but some of us have better things to do during our Summer Vacation.”
“I went to see Toy Story last night,” Brittany adds helpfully.
With Rachel overeagerly hosting, it’s a little painful to sit through, but they all manage, and despite every one of the food choices being animal-friendly vegan, it isn’t that bad a day. Finn and Kurt sneak some bacon on the side and discretely hand it out to other Glee members in need.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Kurt says, passing his sandwich to Artie for a bite. “I love Rachel. But the admittedly small all-American, barbeque loving part of me loves red-meat a lot more.” (His loose shirt slips a little low while he’s talking, exposing a bony shoulder, and Artie can’t form a reply until Kurt absentmindedly tugs it back up.)
“Amen,” he agrees belatedly. Thankfully, Rachel’s too distracted being taught by Quinn and Mike how to kick a football to notice the smell of bacon in the air, and everybody else is too distracted discussing how whipped Puck is to notice when Kurt leans down to open Artie’s collar - “Too many layers. In this heat, you’ll wear yourself out.” - and Artie presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Everybody except Kurt, that is, who lets the adjusted button go, straightens, and walks in the opposite direction to where Mercedes and Finn are recreating classic duets, without looking back.
-
Artie doesn’t visit for a while, refusing to become desperate; the new Puck. He gets a variety of texts from friends about it: Finn sends about four a day asking about where the plan to woo his brother’s innocent heart went wrong; Puck sends him a handful simply saying, you pussy; Mercedes sends a bunch of berating messages asking what the hell he did to her boy; Quinn sends just one, and it says, time to get back on the horse already. (He also gets two from Mike, one saying, do you think i can do the triple backflip, and the following, dude i think i broke my ass.)
Tina calls.
“Is it a guilt thing? Because you don’t need to feel bad, if you’re gay, you’re gay.”
It’s all very awkward and she’s enthusiastic enough about it that he ends up getting freaked out and hanging up at number 42 on her ‘reasons why you guys would be adorable’ rant. Having her blessing is nice and all, it’s sweet and totally creepy of her, but Artie just doesn’t really think he’s gay. (He thinks Kurt’s just that hot.) He never had a problem with Kurt's sexuality - although he did have when Kurt tried to go straight - but he figured he was just a good friend, being supportive.
His choices on discussing the subject are limited to Rachel’s two gay dads - “They’re happy to help!” - or Finn. Artie opts for the latter.
“Kurt’s weird lately,” Finn says, sprawling on Artie’s bed. “He’s been fixing some like, ridiculously handsome guy's car for ages, and after, he pretty much offered Kurt sex. Kurt didn’t even take it; I would have taken sex from that guy.”
Something in Artie’s face spasms uncontrollably during this information.
Finn sits up on his elbows and looks at him. “After that whole thing with Sam, I’m pretty sure Kurt isn’t going for straight guys who’re 'just checking.' Ever. I don’t mean to bum you out man, I’m just saying as the kind-of brother and kind-of former interest, if you’re doing this, you gotta be serious about it.” Finn’s face has gone a little stern, and his eyes are more intent than Artie knew they could go.
(… It’s kind of attractive.)
Artie clears his throat, flushing. “Uh,” he begins, shifting, “I think we’re pretty good. And bisexual.”
Finn shrugs. “I’m okay with bisexual.”
-
It takes Artie a few days and a few uninspired pep-talks courtesy of Noah Puckerman to make it to Kurt’s front door. Of course, because he isn’t scared enough, Burt Hummel answers, all solemn and judging and Artie almost dies when the corner of his mouth twitches down at him. “I’ll call him down,” he says.
Artie squeaks.
There is a moment of wait in which Artie considers wheeling himself back down the street or into the conveniently nearby lamppost, but Kurt appears in the doorway, all sharp eyed and tight lipped. (Also wearing this chequered shirt that does wonders for his lithe form, but Artie can appreciate that later.)
Before he can speak, Kurt comes outside and pulls him away, ignoring his protests, and leads him on a walk. “Kurt,” Artie starts when they’ve gotten out of view of the house, “I get that this is weird.”
Kurt doesn’t say anything. He keeps pushing Artie’s wheelchair, fingertips tapping the fabric beside his head every once and a while. It’s just a little unnerving.
“I wouldn’t even try if I thought it wasn’t going to get us anywhere, or it wasn’t going to last. I really wouldn‘t.”
Their pace doesn’t even falter. Artie shuts his eyes.
“I like you. A lot.” There are a list of things he’s about to say to elaborate on this - for example, Kurt’s eyes and lips and ass and the way before they go out to spend hours doing nothing in his garden Kurt will dot Artie’s nose in a little sun-tan lotion - but Kurt interrupts by stopping them both on the middle of the pathway. Artie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, anxious.
He can hear the sandals Kurt was bragging about for weeks padding on the ground as he walks around the chair. He stops, facing Artie, both his hands on the armrests. One slides a little, brushes Artie’s elbow, and the extent of his nerves is becoming shameful. “Is it bitchy on Tina if I outright say I’m just a tad hot for you?” Kurt says quietly. Artie is so surprised that he laughs, and wastes no time meeting his hand with Kurt’s and lacing their fingers together. Kurt watches, smiling. “She said to draw the process out to gain control. She also said you’d make a lovely top.” While saying it, Kurt blushes.
Artie grins at him. “You have no idea.”
As if to prove a point, he pulls Kurt to fall onto his lap and kisses him again; except this time, Kurt‘s mouth welcomes him and something majestic in Artie‘s heart sings. “I’m no easy feat,” Kurt warns against his mouth when Artie’s hands slip past his waist, although he doesn’t exactly make to tug them away. “Also, my dad lives about thirty seconds from here and owns an impressive collection of fire-arms.”
Artie’s hands drop back to the wheels instantly. He pauses, then says as an afterthought, “Does he mind his son riding in another boy’s lap the way home though?”
“Most likely. On the other hand, I don’t.”
-
School is weird the first day back. By this time, everyone in Glee has exchanged dozens of Artie and Kurt jokes - and literally thousands on Puck and Mercedes - and when the step into the choir room, they’re met by wolf-whistles, sex simulations, and a lot of squealing girls. Kurt lets go of his hand instantly. “It’s been two days,” he points out blankly. “That’s it. Finn, you talked.”
“I’m supportive.”
“So am I,” Mr Schuester agrees with a great, embarrassing smile. He puts a hand on Artie and Kurt’s backs, and says, “I’m happy for you boys.”
They go to their seats, where Puck bumps his fist, Tina and Rachel practically flail in their chairs, Santana gives him a toneless, “Finally,” and Kurt says, “I immediately regret this decision.”
Artie grins. “Lies.”
“But only a little.”
-
When Winter comes, Kurt is adamant to refuse going outside, claiming the cold does terrible things to his skin, and they just sit in his bedroom watching a lot of bad television - and totally making out all the time because Kurt’s dad stops the lectures pretty quickly - and listening to Kurt commentate The Hills and why rich people should be under legal obligation to dress nice. Most of the time, Kurt’s lying half on his carpet with his head on Artie’s lap, smiling, and Artie thinks this is something he could get used to.