Trying my hand at angst (and probably failing.)
Okay, so I got this plotbunny awhile ago and wrote the first part and then just sorta never did anything with it. Mainly because I don't write angst very well, imo. But I do know where I want this to end up, it's just a matter of making myself write it. So if you guys like it, I might be convinced to follow up on it, although I'd probably need a beta as I seem to be having trouble with my tenses lately.
Title: He's got a broken voice, and a twisted smile
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Kurt/Puck, preslash/friendship
Warning: Umm, Puck has language issues, underage drinking, hinted at OC/Puck non-con, bit of Finn bashing
Author's Note: Title from 'Broken' by Norah Jones
It was five weeks after Sectionals when all hell broke loose.
It had been building for a while. It started with a shoulder bump here and a trip up there, all blamed on Finn’s uncoordination, and much to everyone’s surprise, Puck took it all with a shrug, no harm, no foul. But an uneasy tension began to creep into the mohawked boy’s posture and his voice, usually filling the choir room with sarcasm and off-color jokes, became quieter, heard only when he had a question about a song or dance move.
Then one day, Puck ‘slipped’ off the back of the risers during a practice and as Mr. Shuester helped him up and checked him over, Kurt noticed a split-second look of satisfaction on Finn’s face. He tried to rationalize it, Finn was pleased Puck was okay, Finn was happy Glee was doing so well, Finn had a really good lunch today, but the memory of that look settled in the back of Kurt’s mind and wouldn’t leave him be. It was then he started seeing it. The thinly veiled anger in Finn’s tone when ever he spoke to Puck, which was only when necessary. The way he inquired after the baby “just because” in front of the other boy and found ways to mention Quinn was still living in his basement.
And now this.
They’re choosing a new song for their repertoire, a back-up just in case Coach Sylvester leaks their set list again, and Finn pulls a song out of his music folder and hands it to Puck. “You oughta give this a shot, I think it suits you better then me. You know it, right?” Puck looks at the song and goes still, a flash of pain and something a little darker shooting across his face, before his expression clears and he nods.
“Yeah, I’ve heard it.” There’s a warning note in his voice and Kurt has a sudden sense of foreboding, like the world’s biggest slushie is heading his way with a vengeance. Puck strums his guitar hesitantly, picking at the chords for a minute before the piano comes in and he has no choice but to sing. And Kurt feels like closing his eyes and turning away, because it’s easy to see the shame and humiliation in Puck’s body language as he sings ‘Maggie May’, even though he does a damn good job of it. The mood after that is kind of stilted, though it’s clear from the others’ faces that they’re not sure why. Mercedes asks Kurt a question and by the time he turns his attention back to the drama before him, Puck has slipped out of the room and Finn is smiling that little satisfied smile.
That night Kurt goes home and wonders how he was ever in love with Finn Hudson.
The next day goes normally until Glee. They walk in together, still tossing around songs and ideas, when Rachel stops at the door causing them all to crowd around her like idiots. A blond kid is standing next to the piano, a freshman by the nervous look on his face, and Rachel speaks for all of them when she demands to know what he wants.
“Um, I’m here for Glee club? I was told you had an opening? By some guy with a mohawk?” Every word out of Blondie’s mouth ends with an implied question mark, like he’s not even sure of what he’s saying and Kurt decides immediately that he’s no good, even if he sings like Michael fucking Crawford. Puck never said things like that. Like he was unsure. Puck was the walking source of all confidence in the galaxy and possibly the universe, as well, and the last thing they need is some punk who can’t even decide what he’s thinking. But Finn steps forward, ever the leader, and shakes Blondie’s hand.
“I guess Puck got bored with us already.” His face says ‘aw, shucks’ but Kurt’s lost the last season rose-colored glasses and hears the note of victory in Finn’s voice. When Mr. Shue arrives, Kurt pleads a sore throat, adding a cough for good measure, and ducks out before the Question Ken doll can bleat a note.
He’s not sure what makes him go looking for Puck behind the dumpsters. Maybe because that’s where he associates most with Puck outside of Glee, maybe he’s seen too much TiVo’d Oprah and thinks Puck will go somewhere that makes him feel powerful, maybe it’s damn cold outside and god knows Puck wouldn’t hide somewhere Kurt would be comfortable in, who knows. All that matters is that when Kurt sees the familiar denim-clad legs sprawled out on the ground, he’s not too late.
Puck’s propped against the bricks, shaven head lolling to the side as he takes another swig from the bottle in his fist.
“Puck?” Kurt steps forward, shivering slightly as the wind hits him. “What are you doing out here?”
Puck doesn’t answer for a minute and Kurt’s afraid he’s gone into shock when he suddenly speaks. “Trying to decide if I wanna go out with a bang or a flash.”
Somehow, Kurt knows Puck’s not talking years from now, and he kneels next to the jock, worry flooding him with temporary boldness. Kurt reached for the bottle, putting a note of pleading into his words. “C’mon Puck, this isn’t you.”
Puck laughed, a harsh burst of sound that seemed to echo against the buildings. “Give me a little credit, Hummel. I may be an arrogant asshole but I’m not completely stupid.” Kurt recoiled at the edge to the jock’s voice. It was a tone he’d never heard the other boy use, even when he was being tossed into a dumpster, and Kurt wondered how someone could sound so disgusted with themselves at such a young age. Puck took another swig out of the bottle in his hand and shook his head. “I know exactly what I am. I’ve known it since I was fourteen. Question is, do you know what I am, Hummel?” Puck leaned into Kurt, breath smelling like cheap whiskey and cigarettes, and Kurt found himself staring helplessly into Puck’s hard eyes. “You…you’re Puck. You’re the football stud that plays the guitar and throws me into the dumpster every Tuesday.”
Puck cut him off, jabbing a finger in Kurt‘s chest. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Hummel. Everybody knows it, they just don’t wanna admit it. ’Cause if I’m the town stud who beats up the dorks and dates the cheerleaders and cleans the pools then nobody has to admit that I’m also the town whore.” Puck spat the word in Kurt’s face.
“If I’m the guy who’ll screw anything that moves nobody has to question why all my clients are housewives who just want something that doesn’t run on batteries between their legs and don’t give a fuck who it’s attached to. If I’m the player, the jerk, the idiot then nobody has to wonder why Mrs. Jenison used to give me detention after school everyday.”
Puck threw the bottle at the wall and Kurt flinched at the sound of breaking glass. “If I don’t give a damn about anybody else, then nobody has to give a damn about me. And if nobody gives a damn then nobody has to put two and two together. Nobody has to ask if I wanted it. Nobody has to ask if I said no!” All the strength seemed to go out of Puck as his shout reverberated in the empty lot and it was all Kurt could do to catch the heavier teen around his waist as he slumped forward. “I told her no.” Puck whispered brokenly against Kurt’s neck before he went limp, deadweight as the alcohol pulled him into unconsciousness.
Let me know if you want more...
Title: He's got a broken voice, and a twisted smile
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Kurt/Puck, preslash/friendship
Warning: Umm, Puck has language issues, underage drinking, hinted at OC/Puck non-con, bit of Finn bashing
Author's Note: Title from 'Broken' by Norah Jones
It was five weeks after Sectionals when all hell broke loose.
It had been building for a while. It started with a shoulder bump here and a trip up there, all blamed on Finn’s uncoordination, and much to everyone’s surprise, Puck took it all with a shrug, no harm, no foul. But an uneasy tension began to creep into the mohawked boy’s posture and his voice, usually filling the choir room with sarcasm and off-color jokes, became quieter, heard only when he had a question about a song or dance move.
Then one day, Puck ‘slipped’ off the back of the risers during a practice and as Mr. Shuester helped him up and checked him over, Kurt noticed a split-second look of satisfaction on Finn’s face. He tried to rationalize it, Finn was pleased Puck was okay, Finn was happy Glee was doing so well, Finn had a really good lunch today, but the memory of that look settled in the back of Kurt’s mind and wouldn’t leave him be. It was then he started seeing it. The thinly veiled anger in Finn’s tone when ever he spoke to Puck, which was only when necessary. The way he inquired after the baby “just because” in front of the other boy and found ways to mention Quinn was still living in his basement.
And now this.
They’re choosing a new song for their repertoire, a back-up just in case Coach Sylvester leaks their set list again, and Finn pulls a song out of his music folder and hands it to Puck. “You oughta give this a shot, I think it suits you better then me. You know it, right?” Puck looks at the song and goes still, a flash of pain and something a little darker shooting across his face, before his expression clears and he nods.
“Yeah, I’ve heard it.” There’s a warning note in his voice and Kurt has a sudden sense of foreboding, like the world’s biggest slushie is heading his way with a vengeance. Puck strums his guitar hesitantly, picking at the chords for a minute before the piano comes in and he has no choice but to sing. And Kurt feels like closing his eyes and turning away, because it’s easy to see the shame and humiliation in Puck’s body language as he sings ‘Maggie May’, even though he does a damn good job of it. The mood after that is kind of stilted, though it’s clear from the others’ faces that they’re not sure why. Mercedes asks Kurt a question and by the time he turns his attention back to the drama before him, Puck has slipped out of the room and Finn is smiling that little satisfied smile.
That night Kurt goes home and wonders how he was ever in love with Finn Hudson.
The next day goes normally until Glee. They walk in together, still tossing around songs and ideas, when Rachel stops at the door causing them all to crowd around her like idiots. A blond kid is standing next to the piano, a freshman by the nervous look on his face, and Rachel speaks for all of them when she demands to know what he wants.
“Um, I’m here for Glee club? I was told you had an opening? By some guy with a mohawk?” Every word out of Blondie’s mouth ends with an implied question mark, like he’s not even sure of what he’s saying and Kurt decides immediately that he’s no good, even if he sings like Michael fucking Crawford. Puck never said things like that. Like he was unsure. Puck was the walking source of all confidence in the galaxy and possibly the universe, as well, and the last thing they need is some punk who can’t even decide what he’s thinking. But Finn steps forward, ever the leader, and shakes Blondie’s hand.
“I guess Puck got bored with us already.” His face says ‘aw, shucks’ but Kurt’s lost the last season rose-colored glasses and hears the note of victory in Finn’s voice. When Mr. Shue arrives, Kurt pleads a sore throat, adding a cough for good measure, and ducks out before the Question Ken doll can bleat a note.
He’s not sure what makes him go looking for Puck behind the dumpsters. Maybe because that’s where he associates most with Puck outside of Glee, maybe he’s seen too much TiVo’d Oprah and thinks Puck will go somewhere that makes him feel powerful, maybe it’s damn cold outside and god knows Puck wouldn’t hide somewhere Kurt would be comfortable in, who knows. All that matters is that when Kurt sees the familiar denim-clad legs sprawled out on the ground, he’s not too late.
Puck’s propped against the bricks, shaven head lolling to the side as he takes another swig from the bottle in his fist.
“Puck?” Kurt steps forward, shivering slightly as the wind hits him. “What are you doing out here?”
Puck doesn’t answer for a minute and Kurt’s afraid he’s gone into shock when he suddenly speaks. “Trying to decide if I wanna go out with a bang or a flash.”
Somehow, Kurt knows Puck’s not talking years from now, and he kneels next to the jock, worry flooding him with temporary boldness. Kurt reached for the bottle, putting a note of pleading into his words. “C’mon Puck, this isn’t you.”
Puck laughed, a harsh burst of sound that seemed to echo against the buildings. “Give me a little credit, Hummel. I may be an arrogant asshole but I’m not completely stupid.” Kurt recoiled at the edge to the jock’s voice. It was a tone he’d never heard the other boy use, even when he was being tossed into a dumpster, and Kurt wondered how someone could sound so disgusted with themselves at such a young age. Puck took another swig out of the bottle in his hand and shook his head. “I know exactly what I am. I’ve known it since I was fourteen. Question is, do you know what I am, Hummel?” Puck leaned into Kurt, breath smelling like cheap whiskey and cigarettes, and Kurt found himself staring helplessly into Puck’s hard eyes. “You…you’re Puck. You’re the football stud that plays the guitar and throws me into the dumpster every Tuesday.”
Puck cut him off, jabbing a finger in Kurt‘s chest. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Hummel. Everybody knows it, they just don’t wanna admit it. ’Cause if I’m the town stud who beats up the dorks and dates the cheerleaders and cleans the pools then nobody has to admit that I’m also the town whore.” Puck spat the word in Kurt’s face.
“If I’m the guy who’ll screw anything that moves nobody has to question why all my clients are housewives who just want something that doesn’t run on batteries between their legs and don’t give a fuck who it’s attached to. If I’m the player, the jerk, the idiot then nobody has to wonder why Mrs. Jenison used to give me detention after school everyday.”
Puck threw the bottle at the wall and Kurt flinched at the sound of breaking glass. “If I don’t give a damn about anybody else, then nobody has to give a damn about me. And if nobody gives a damn then nobody has to put two and two together. Nobody has to ask if I wanted it. Nobody has to ask if I said no!” All the strength seemed to go out of Puck as his shout reverberated in the empty lot and it was all Kurt could do to catch the heavier teen around his waist as he slumped forward. “I told her no.” Puck whispered brokenly against Kurt’s neck before he went limp, deadweight as the alcohol pulled him into unconsciousness.
Let me know if you want more...