30 Days of Puckurt Drabble: Day 6
Welcome to the sixth day of 30 Days of Puckurt Drabble in June!
You can see the rules post here. By now, you know the drill: Remember to put your theme and the rating (if the piece is anything past PG) in the subject line.
Keep on keeping on, you drabblers, you!
You can see the rules post here. By now, you know the drill: Remember to put your theme and the rating (if the piece is anything past PG) in the subject line.
Keep on keeping on, you drabblers, you!
Shallow and shuddering breaths rasp between Kurt’s lips, his hand frozen in place in front of his mouth. His eyes are wide, lashes dry and fanning outward to frame their multi-hued depths.
He can’t hear any noise from the hallway outside, and the locker room is silent around him. The lack of stimulation, of distraction, leaves him alone with the burning tingle on his hips and the slow bruising of his face, the marks little points where fingers had dug in. There is a tightening in his throat and a sinking feeling, like lead dropping through water, in his stomach.
He has had many things taken from him because of the world’s prejudice, but he’d never thought this would be one of them. Because he never expected Karofsky to have been on both sides of that prejudice, the pressure and the fear controlling his actions.
Using one shaking hand to support himself, Kurt lowers his body to the locker room bench and hunches forward. He starts to pull his hand away from his lips, but the second the pressure of his palm releases he slaps it back into place; without it there he feels vulnerable and exposed. Naked and - he feels like he shouldn’t react this badly - dirty.
Wrapping his free hand around his waist and curling even further inward, Kurt tries to control his hitching breath. He is shaking, adrenalin still pumping through him, and his hands are icy cold. He wants to be at home where he feels safe and comfortable. Where he knows there are only people who love him and would never hurt him.
“You okay princess?”
Kurt jumps a little and looks up into Puck’s questioning face. He hadn’t even heard the other boy enter the room.
‘Fine’ is coiling at the tip of his tongue, the easy answer building more from habit than honesty. It seems to die away as it tries to pass his lips and leaves him barren, mouth open and silent.
Before he can formulate another answer, tears start to prickle at the edges of his eyes, dampening his lashes and clumping them together. A sob breaks through his shields and barriers, wracking his shoulders and composure as it rings out.
Kurt watches as Puck’s eyes widen and then narrow, their brown depths burning with intensity. “What happened?” he demands, voice full of vehemence.
More sobs fight their way out of Kurt’s chest as he shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Holy shit, Hummel, what did they do to you? Who was it?” Puck is angry, his words biting enough that Kurt winces a little.
Kurt has taken a lot of abuse, mentally and physically, in the halls of McKinley High, but this is the first time he’s not been able to hold himself together. The tears, the sobs, those are things for showers to wash away and for pillows to muffle late at night. Others aren’t supposed to see this.
When his sobs taper enough that he can concentrate, Kurt notices that Puck has come to sit next to him, close enough that their shoulders are brushing.
Kurt, for the first time since Karofsky stormed out of the room, pulls his hand from his mouth. All he wants to do is brush his teeth. He looks at Puck from the corner of his eyes and says, “Can you just leave? Please?”
Puck turns a little, his eyes digging into Kurt with their intensity. “No way. Not until you tell me who messed with you.”
A small noise of disbelief catches in Kurt’s throat as a spike of bitter anger overcomes him. It’s like bile; thin and sour. “Why do you care?”
Puck almost looks hurt, but the emotion is quickly overtaken by cocky self-confidence and earnest conviction. “Because you’re my boy now, and I’ve never seen you like this. You’re an Ice Queen, dude.”
Feeling a little guilty as the anger retreats, Kurt nods. “Yeah, I know. It’s just - hard to forget, is all.” They both know what he’s referring to, and no further elaboration is required.
Puck nods in understanding, but doesn’t apologise. Kurt figures they still have a ways to go before that will happen, if ever.
Silence stretches between them for some time, the sound of Kurt occasionally sniffling the only thing to break it, and Puck never moves. Their shoulders are pressed together tight enough that Puck’s body heat radiates into Kurt, warming him in more than a physical sense.
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Puck jerks, eyebrows falling into a glare of concentration, but he doesn’t start throwing angry words. Instead, he calmly asks, “Will you tell me who?”
Kurt shakes his head and whispers, “No.”
Another period of silence ensconces them, the air in the locker room filled with their thoughts. It’s Puck who breaks the silence this time.
“When I need to get over something bad I replace it with something good.” Puck is facing him, a smirk on his lips that says ‘who wouldn’t want this’ that almost makes Kurt scoff.
The answer is so dysfunctional, so against every bit of logic that Kurt holds, that he thinks it just might work. “And who do you suggest I kiss, Puckerman?”
Puck looks offended, but then he sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “Who else, princess? You couldn’t do better than the Puckasaurus.”
Kurt finds himself nodding, even as his thoughts protest wildly; this is Puck, the boy who used to torment him and who he only has a tentative friendship with because of their mutual love for glee. He doesn’t get a chance to talk himself out of it.
Puck is already leaning in, his eyes focused on Kurt’s lips, which Kurt knows are swollen from the unexpected kiss and from his subsequent grip upon them. He finds himself moving in as well, and they almost seem to be going in slow motion, creeping toward each other slowly and carefully.
It’s Puck who takes the initiative to close the gap, brushing his slightly chapped lips over Kurt’s in a light kiss. After a moment of barely touching together, Puck deepens the kiss enough that he is caressing Kurt’s lips with his own.
Kurt pulls away before it can go any further, red staining his cheeks, and says, “Thank you.”
The soft look on Puck face melts into something like a leer as he says, “No problem.”
Puck smirks at Kurt and stands, walking away and leave Kurt to watch his retreating back.
Kurt knows this won’t make everything okay, that it won’t erase the memory of Karofsky, but it did make his day just a little bit better. And he’s discovered that maybe Noah Puckerman will be a better friend than he thought he could ever be.
-
A/N: this just kind of happened. IDEK.
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It’s Puck who takes the initiative to close the gap, brushing his slightly chapped lips over Kurt’s in a light kiss. After a moment of barely touching together, Puck deepens the kiss enough that he is caressing Kurt’s lips with his own.
*sighs* Just beautiful *________*
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Thank you :D
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Thanks! <3
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♥
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<3
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♥
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<3
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Thank you <3
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