30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles Day 30 (The End Is Here)
It's over. I hope the rest of you have had fun; I know I have and I can't believe how sad I am to see this month end!
raving_liberal or I will post a "make up" post for those who need to catch up on drabbling, sometime over this holiday weekend. We'll also be making a post about the great graphics that have been made so you can all snag some! Finally, we hope ( Read more... )
raving_liberal or I will post a "make up" post for those who need to catch up on drabbling, sometime over this holiday weekend. We'll also be making a post about the great graphics that have been made so you can all snag some! Finally, we hope ( Read more... )
Trust
Kurt slips out of bed silently and the covers drag over his exposed skin with nary a rasp. The floor is cold on his feet and goosebumps rise on his flesh as his sleep-warm skin meets the early-morning air of the bedroom.
He makes his way to the kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest, and pours a short glass of water from a container in the fridge. The liquid is cool and refreshing, wetting his dry throat and soothing the last vestiges of sleep from his mind as it passes his lips.
There is the sound of birds singing outside and the first rays of golden sunshine are peaking over the short trees in the backyard, illuminating the summer landscape. Nearly having to rip his eyes from the sight, Kurt sets the empty glass on the counter and makes his way back to the bedroom.
Kurt pauses in the doorway and stares, transfixed by the view before him. Puck is sprawled on the right side of the bed laying face-down. The muscles of his back and arms, hard and rippling, yet soft with sleep, are highlighted by the sun filtering through the window above him. The golden rays catch of the ridges and cast shadows across the planes of his skin, painting it bronze and black in the dim light.
Wanting to be closer, Kurt pads silently over to Puck’s side of the bed; he is instantly thankful that he has done so because Puck’s face is turned toward him and is bathed in the shimmering sunlight. Every feature of his face is lit up and visible in crystal clarity, right down to the pores of his cheeks and the light dusting of stubble lining his jaw.
Unable to stay so far away, Kurt moves in until he is standing beside Puck and kneels down, bringing their faces close together so that he can peruse Puck’s features more fully.
His eyes seize on the delicate arch of Puck’s brows and his fingers lift almost absently to run over the contour of them.
The pain is sudden and brilliant, flashing over Kurt like a thousand needles piercing him all at once, and his vision is suddenly alight with a bright white explosion, something like a star going nova, that accompanies a loud ‘crack’ as it echoes in his head. His back hits a solid surface, a wall or a floor, he can’t tell, and Kurt hears someone cry out. It takes him a moment to realize that it is him.
As the last of the bright light extinguishes from behind his lids, Kurt hears the whisper of sheets falling from the bed and a ‘thud’ as something large lands beside him. His vision is now black and spotted, like he has gone for too long without eating and has quickly stood up, and so when a warm hand grabs his wrist and pulls his hand from its position covering his face, he jumps and groans.
“I’m sorry - I’m sorry. Let me see.”
It’s Puck’s voice in his ear and Puck’s hands on him, and Kurt is confused and desperate to know what has just happened. “What?”
“Shh. I just need to look.” And then two hands are cupping Kurt’s face and turning his head to the side. “Shit.”
“Noah? What happened?” Kurt is able to see Puck as he kneels beside him on the floor next to their bed, but one of his eyes, his left, is cloudy and full of tears. Most of the pain radiates outward from it.
“I didn’t mean to,” Puck says, pleading and angry and confused. “I don’t know what happened - I just reacted.”
Moaning as waves of pain wash over his eye and the surrounding bones, Kurt braces a hand behind himself and pushes up so that he is not slumped against the wall any longer. “Okay. It’s okay - just give me a minute.”
“Shit,” Puck says again. “We need to get some ice on that. It’s already starting to swell.”
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Two strong hands hold him gently around the upper arms and pull him into a standing position, and Kurt stumbles a little as they move as one through the bedroom and hallway into the kitchen. It is a relief to be sat in one of the wooden chairs there.
“There’s a new bag of peas in the freezer - they’ll work good.”
Puck nods at Kurt’s suggestion and reaches into the freezer, pulls out the green bag, and wraps the plastic in a hand towel. “Here.” He hands the cold pack to Kurt with his right hand.
It isn’t until this moment, as Puck hands Kurt the bag of peas, that Kurt realizes what happened. Puck’s knuckles are bright red and swelling fast, his hand’s movements tight with pain. “You punched me,” he says without thinking.
Puck’s face goes rigid and his eyes crinkle at the words. He doesn’t seem to be able to respond - there is something agonizing behind his eyes and he is avoiding touching the skin of his knuckles like it is dangerous. The mental pain that Kurt can see in Puck doubles his own physical pain at least once over.
Hissing as he brings the towel-wrapped peas to his face, Kurt moves to stand; he is relieved when the room stays stable in his vision. Puck is standing still, unsure, and as Kurt comes close to him he shies away slightly, leaving Kurt to feel deeply, profoundly, sad for the man. “It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll be okay.”
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I love that we got to see what happened. But, awww. Poor Puck and Kurt.
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