Fic: Broken part 15, FINAL CHAPTER
Title: Broken 15 It's not the first time, it's not the worst crime, our souls will be okay.
Author: Nytegoddess
Rating: R over-all, PG-13 this chapter
Character(s)/Pairing(s): *deep breath* Kurt/Puck, mentions past Puck/OFC(s), Santana/Tina, Artie/Brittany, Mercedes/Mike/Matt, Finn/Rachel/Quinn
Warning: Mentions of Non-con and rape, nothing graphic. Swings wildly from fluff to angst to fluffy sap. Seriously awesome original character. Burt being awesome. Kurt being awesome. attempted suicide, nothing graphic. Boy on boy action. Singing. One Sue-isim. One puppy.
Spoilers: Everything up to Sectionals.
Disclaimer: I am not Ryan Murphy. I am not Fox Network. I own none of these characters, excluding Ella who is MINE ALL MINE, and no claims are being made.
Author Notes: Oh boy. Here it is, a little behind schedule, a little rambling in places, but finally the final chapter is up. I'm kinda sad to see this go, really. I started this with a burst of inspiration that resulted in a one shot that snowballed wildly out of control. I want to thank so many, many of you, every body who ever commentted on this thing, or read it, or even looked at the entry. I love you all to pieces, for real. Okay, deep breath, show face, here we go...
Summary: Kurt has no idea what a difference a week can make... (crap summary, ik.)
Word Count: 28,000+ Novella length!!!
For those just joining us:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Someone spray paints the word ‘fag’ on Noah’s locker while they’re at lunch. It’s just a word, one Kurt’s heard a dozen times before, but it still stings when he sees it. The whispers turn into outright gossip, voices following him in the halls and all throughout his classes, and when he slams his books onto the table during Study Hall, Mercedes takes one look at his face before closing her Chemistry book and turning to face him.
“Okay. What’s going on with you?” She glares at the tittering freshmen next to them, and grabs his hands. “Is it the stuff going around about you and Puck? Because I’ve been setting everybody straight when I even hear them saying you two are anything but friends.”
Kurt stares at her, his best friend, his Mercedes-Beard, who has no idea the fantastical and horrifying turns his life has taken in the past week, and lets out a strangled laugh. “We’re not friends.” She nods at him and he continues with a strange mix of urgency and disbelief. “We’re dating. Sort of.” Mercedes freezes, her grip tightening almost painfully on his hands. “We made out. And he took me to his house. And he might have said he loved me.” Kurt bites his lips together to stop the flow of words, and a cold sweat breaks out on his body. Mercedes, for her part, sways slightly like she’s going to pass out, before she drops his hands and sits back.
She’s speechless, staring at him, and the freshmen are laughing at the two of them behind their books, and the sound of gossip, Mercedes’s silence, and the never-ending replay of Noah’s words from the night before are rising in his head, a building crescendo of noise. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest like a club bass beat, and despite his effort, all the words that have been circling in his mind come tumbling out.
“I mean, he was asleep, or almost asleep, when he said it. And he was medicated. And he didn’t say ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m in love with you’ or even ‘Love you, babe’ or anything, it was more of a ‘You’re included in the list of people I love’ thing, like a brother. Only not, because he kissed me and, um, other things, and you don’t kiss your brother. Unless you’re one of those horribly backwards families who do those kinds of things. Or you didn’t know the person you were kissing was your brother, I guess, but really that almost never happens. And we haven‘t exactly gone out on a date, not yet, we just fooled around in the choir room, but I think we‘re dating, or we‘re going to be dating? I don‘t know. I haven‘t really had time to think it all over yet, with the passing out and the snow day and the kissing and the car wreck and-”
“Whoa, whoa, wuh-oh, okay? Breathe, Kurt, breathe.” Mercedes breathes in and out exaggeratedly until he follows along and he really hopes Quinn is going to have Mercedes there when she gives birth because she’s good at this breathing thing.
“You and Puck are…dating.” Mercedes says slowly, like she’s afraid the words will rewrite history if she says them too quickly. “I-Kurt, are you sure? I mean, this is Noah Puckerman we’re talking about here. The guy who’s ‘cleaned the pools’ of every skinny cougar and slutty Cheerio in town.” She’s leaning forward, glancing over her shoulder at the other students in the library, but her voice only drops when she’s says they’re dating and maybe she doesn’t mean anything by it, maybe she just doesn’t want to add to the gossip already circling the halls, but it reminds Kurt so strongly of the start of all of this, of finding Noah slumped over by the dumpsters, teetering on the edge of shattering completely and his drunken confession of a secret nobody deserves to have, and it’s one more secret, Kurt thinks, one more ‘I’m gay’, ‘I’m in Glee’, ‘I was raped’, ‘I’m in love with someone’, one more thing they have to keep quiet, keep to themselves, and Kurt’s bolting from the library, halfway down the hallway, Mercedes shouting uselessly behind him, faces and bodies streaming past as he tries to outrun reality.
He winds up on the bleachers, well, under the bleachers, really, sitting on the metal frame, the repressed emotions he’s been trying so hard not to feel all week, and god, it had only been a week, bubbling to the surface in choked off sobs, muffled against his knees. A faint whimper breaks through his haze of self-pity and it comes twice more before Kurt realizes it’s not coming from him. He glances up at the field and back towards the school and almost overlooks the small wiggling black shape on the ground in front of him. He blinks in disbelief, because…
“Seriously?”
It’s a puppy. A wet, slightly dirty, black and brown puppy, with big liquid chocolate eyes and it’s shivering in the remains of the snow on the field and Kurt’s scooping it up and cuddling it under his chin before he really thinks about it. The puppy’s nose is cold where he, and yes, Kurt double-checks quickly, the puppy is a boy, his nose is cold against Kurt’s face, still hot from his mad dash out of school and crying jag, and his coat is soft to the touch. The puppy snuffles it’s way under the edge of Kurt’s Louis Vuitton scarf, burrowing into the warmth and tickling Kurt in the process. Kurt draws his legs up and crosses them in front of him, making a little nest for the dog to curl up in, banishing the thought of getting mud and dog hair out of his clothes to the back of his mind.
Kurt feels slightly stupid, and drained, and when he hears footsteps coming towards him on the bleachers, he half-way expects it to be Zac Efron because his life is now a Disney movie of the week. Maybe a Jonas brother. I mean, come on, he’s sitting on the bleachers, crying, over a puppy. Kurt’s not entirely sure this wasn’t in an episode of Hannah Montana.
A faint whiff of sterile hospital and footballer sweat and the ever-present lingering smell of Axe wash over him, and Kurt feels himself relaxing just a little bit. Puck lowers himself gingerly onto the metal beam next to Kurt, hissing through his teeth when he shifts his shoulder the wrong way.
“The doctors know you’re here?” Kurt mutters, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.
“Yep.” Kurt shoots him a look and Noah scoffs, insulted.
“They do! Signed the discharge papers right in front of me.” Kurt looks at him steadily for a second before he crumbles. “All right, maybe your dad made them sign the papers ‘cause I kinda threatened to rip out the IV after Mercedes called me and told me you were flipping out.”
Kurt sighs and smoothes his hair back away from his face. “I was not flipping out.”
Puck just raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Dude, you’re sitting under the bleachers, bawling over a dog. If this is normal for you, you have bigger issues than I do.”
Kurt blushes slightly and turns away, drawing a deep breath before he brings it up, the thing that chased him out here. “So everybody kinda knows.”
“Yeah, I saw the artwork on my locker.” Puck says flatly. “What’s left of it anyway.” Kurt shoots him a confused look and Noah sighs before sliding closer and draping his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “Karofsky was cleaning it off. Sporting a nice shiner, too. Not as nice as the jockstrap/icepack combo Steve’s hobbling around wearing but you know, not everybody has your way with words.”
Kurt groans and tries to will the ground to open up under him. “I have no idea what came over me, resorting to violence. You’ve clearly been a bad influence.”
“Yep, that’s me.” Puck says shamelessly, sprawling his legs out in front of him. “I’m just bad news. But you love me anyway.”
“And humble, too.” Kurt pokes him in the side and he flinches a little to hard to be all pretend and that’s the second time the ‘L’ word has crossed Noah’s lips in reference to their relationship.
“Love, huh.” He says quietly, almost whispered.
“Hey.” Puck nudges him with his hip. “I don’t let just anybody see me sobbing like a twelve year old girl. And it’s not exactly a written declaration but castrating a guy for insulting my honor is kind of a give away. I think, anyhow.” He shrugs and looks at Kurt patiently, as the smaller boy tries to form a reply.
“I think…I think I’m not sure yet. But maybe…this feeling I’ve been having, in the pit of my stomach? Maybe it’s love.” They lapse into a comfortable silence, and Kurt’s surprised at the way the boiling tension of the past few days is slowly seeping out of him.
“So who’s this?” Puck changes the subject and picks up the puppy, large hands cradling it against his chest.
“Oh! He just kinda…found me. He probably belongs to somebody or something.” Kurt mutters, already missing the warm weight of the puppy in his lap, not that he would admit it.
“Well, there’s no collar.” Puck lifts the dog under it’s front paws until it’s nose to nose with him, it’s tail wagging slightly. “Hmm. Got some Lab in him, I think. Bet it’s one of the Matthews strays, that dog of theirs has litters all over the damn town.” The puppy and Puck stare at each other for a minute and for some reason Kurt’s holding his breath. The puppy is the one who finally makes a move, pink tongue slipping out to lick a stripe up Puck’s cheek. Noah laughs and carefully sets the dog back in Kurt’s lap with an amused smirk. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
And that-Kurt didn’t even say he wanted to-
“Besides,” Puck continues, “If we can handle a puppy, we can handle a baby. Right?” And Puck’s not looking at him, squinting in the direction of the scoreboard, and oh.
“Noah-”
“I know, I know, it’s not the same thing at all, really, I get that, I mean a dog and a baby are totally different, but they’re not, not really.” Puck cuts him off, rambling and talking with his hands like he only does when he’s nervous. “And Ella said something about me staying at your house and her maybe taking the apartment or vice versa, ’cause she’s gonna try and get custody of Ruthie from my mom, and she would help us out, I know she would, and I’m not easy, not at all, I get that, but you’re not a cakewalk either, not that that’s a bad thing, I meant, you know, that you’re not gonna put up with any crap, and I’m a package deal with a ton of issues and fuck, this is a lot to put up with but-”
Kurt grabs his shirt and hauls him in for a mind-blowing kiss, stealing Noah’s words and breath and tongue, sucking gently before pulling back, resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s.
“I love dogs.” He gives Noah a wry smile. “Besides I’ve kinda had two years of putting up with your bad side. As long as you don’t throw me in a dumpster every time we argue…”
Puck grimaces and lets his head fall back. “I’m never gonna get out from under that, am I?”
“Not a chance in hell.” Kurt leans against his broad shoulder, wrapping his hand around Puck’s wrist, and glancing down at the puppy now sleeping on the scarf in his lap.
“You know, you’re being really great about this.” He said absently remarks, already trying out names for their dog in his head. Oscar? Rover? Fluffy?
“I know.” Puck frowns. “I think I’m still high from the morphine.” He tucks the designer scarf a little closer around the dog’s body and Kurt blurts out the perfect name.
“Louis.”
“What?” Puck turns, checking around them for someone else, and he stiffens when he catches sight of a familiar tall form making it’s way across the end zone.
Finn approaches them slowly, the rest of Glee huddled at the entrance to the field. Kurt glares at the taller boy and wraps his fingers tighter around Puck’s arm. Finn nods in his direction before taking a deep breath and speaking to Puck’s profile.
“So, you were right.”
“I know.” Kurt nudges Puck in the side and he turns to face Finn while still managing to not to look directly at him. The tension is winding tighter around Puck and Kurt can feel his muscles jumping under his shirt as he clenches his fists.
“I was just so angry and hurt and…I know it’s stupid but it felt like I was losing my kid even though it wasn’t mine to lose and then I felt kinda relieved and then I felt like shit for feeling relieved and I just…wanted to make someone else feel bad, I guess. I never really thought about how maybe you had been feeling like that all along, though.” Puck looks at Finn now, holding his gaze, and Finn steps just a little bit closer. “I’m not sorry for being mad. You lied to me, man. You went behind my back and you knew I was freaking out over everything and you didn’t say anything. That’s not right. But,” Finn took a deep breath. “I am sorry I took it out on you so much. And I’m really sorry about what Steve did. That was way over the line.” Finn rubs his neck awkwardly and Kurt can see his knuckles are bruised, just a little. Kurt can feel the moment Puck relaxes, all the coiled energy in him slipping away, and evidently Finn can tell too, because he sits next to them and sighs as the rest of Glee club inches closer now that the chance of flying fists has apparently passed.
“Sorry I lied. I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you, bro.” Puck’s voice is gruff, but the apology is there and Finn ducks his head as the rest of the Gleeks reach them.
“So, uh, are we okay now?”
“No.” Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand when he inhales sharply and continues. “But we will be.”
The whole choir seems to breathe out as one and Finn smiles. “Cool.”
“Cool.” Puck smirks back, lightly punching his best friend‘s shoulder. Finn retaliates by pushing him and they begin laughing as they shove each other back and forth, Puck’s sore arm resting around Kurt’s waist, holding him against his side. He should protest the rough-housing, especially since he’s getting jerked closer into Noah every time and Louis is awake now, squirming in his arms , but Kurt just rolls his eyes at Mercedes and Santana and huffs.
“Boys.”
They settle after a minute, the whole Glee club’s resting against the bleachers, and it’s a little like the end of Grease, really, the gang all paired off and happy together and Kurt wants to linger here for as long as they can.
“So.” Finn breaks the silence with a sheepish look at Kurt and Puck’s entwined pose. “You and Kurt are, um, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Puck exhales, reaching out to scratch Louis’s head lightly.
“Awesome.” Finn wraps his own arm around Rachel, his other hand absently rubbing Quinn’s back.
“You know?” Puck says with his trademark smirk and a leer at Kurt, “It really is.”
End. I mean it.
And for those who were wondering, here's what Louis looks like:
Author: Nytegoddess
Rating: R over-all, PG-13 this chapter
Character(s)/Pairing(s): *deep breath* Kurt/Puck, mentions past Puck/OFC(s), Santana/Tina, Artie/Brittany, Mercedes/Mike/Matt, Finn/Rachel/Quinn
Warning: Mentions of Non-con and rape, nothing graphic. Swings wildly from fluff to angst to fluffy sap. Seriously awesome original character. Burt being awesome. Kurt being awesome. attempted suicide, nothing graphic. Boy on boy action. Singing. One Sue-isim. One puppy.
Spoilers: Everything up to Sectionals.
Disclaimer: I am not Ryan Murphy. I am not Fox Network. I own none of these characters, excluding Ella who is MINE ALL MINE, and no claims are being made.
Author Notes: Oh boy. Here it is, a little behind schedule, a little rambling in places, but finally the final chapter is up. I'm kinda sad to see this go, really. I started this with a burst of inspiration that resulted in a one shot that snowballed wildly out of control. I want to thank so many, many of you, every body who ever commentted on this thing, or read it, or even looked at the entry. I love you all to pieces, for real. Okay, deep breath, show face, here we go...
Summary: Kurt has no idea what a difference a week can make... (crap summary, ik.)
Word Count: 28,000+ Novella length!!!
For those just joining us:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Someone spray paints the word ‘fag’ on Noah’s locker while they’re at lunch. It’s just a word, one Kurt’s heard a dozen times before, but it still stings when he sees it. The whispers turn into outright gossip, voices following him in the halls and all throughout his classes, and when he slams his books onto the table during Study Hall, Mercedes takes one look at his face before closing her Chemistry book and turning to face him.
“Okay. What’s going on with you?” She glares at the tittering freshmen next to them, and grabs his hands. “Is it the stuff going around about you and Puck? Because I’ve been setting everybody straight when I even hear them saying you two are anything but friends.”
Kurt stares at her, his best friend, his Mercedes-Beard, who has no idea the fantastical and horrifying turns his life has taken in the past week, and lets out a strangled laugh. “We’re not friends.” She nods at him and he continues with a strange mix of urgency and disbelief. “We’re dating. Sort of.” Mercedes freezes, her grip tightening almost painfully on his hands. “We made out. And he took me to his house. And he might have said he loved me.” Kurt bites his lips together to stop the flow of words, and a cold sweat breaks out on his body. Mercedes, for her part, sways slightly like she’s going to pass out, before she drops his hands and sits back.
She’s speechless, staring at him, and the freshmen are laughing at the two of them behind their books, and the sound of gossip, Mercedes’s silence, and the never-ending replay of Noah’s words from the night before are rising in his head, a building crescendo of noise. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest like a club bass beat, and despite his effort, all the words that have been circling in his mind come tumbling out.
“I mean, he was asleep, or almost asleep, when he said it. And he was medicated. And he didn’t say ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m in love with you’ or even ‘Love you, babe’ or anything, it was more of a ‘You’re included in the list of people I love’ thing, like a brother. Only not, because he kissed me and, um, other things, and you don’t kiss your brother. Unless you’re one of those horribly backwards families who do those kinds of things. Or you didn’t know the person you were kissing was your brother, I guess, but really that almost never happens. And we haven‘t exactly gone out on a date, not yet, we just fooled around in the choir room, but I think we‘re dating, or we‘re going to be dating? I don‘t know. I haven‘t really had time to think it all over yet, with the passing out and the snow day and the kissing and the car wreck and-”
“Whoa, whoa, wuh-oh, okay? Breathe, Kurt, breathe.” Mercedes breathes in and out exaggeratedly until he follows along and he really hopes Quinn is going to have Mercedes there when she gives birth because she’s good at this breathing thing.
“You and Puck are…dating.” Mercedes says slowly, like she’s afraid the words will rewrite history if she says them too quickly. “I-Kurt, are you sure? I mean, this is Noah Puckerman we’re talking about here. The guy who’s ‘cleaned the pools’ of every skinny cougar and slutty Cheerio in town.” She’s leaning forward, glancing over her shoulder at the other students in the library, but her voice only drops when she’s says they’re dating and maybe she doesn’t mean anything by it, maybe she just doesn’t want to add to the gossip already circling the halls, but it reminds Kurt so strongly of the start of all of this, of finding Noah slumped over by the dumpsters, teetering on the edge of shattering completely and his drunken confession of a secret nobody deserves to have, and it’s one more secret, Kurt thinks, one more ‘I’m gay’, ‘I’m in Glee’, ‘I was raped’, ‘I’m in love with someone’, one more thing they have to keep quiet, keep to themselves, and Kurt’s bolting from the library, halfway down the hallway, Mercedes shouting uselessly behind him, faces and bodies streaming past as he tries to outrun reality.
He winds up on the bleachers, well, under the bleachers, really, sitting on the metal frame, the repressed emotions he’s been trying so hard not to feel all week, and god, it had only been a week, bubbling to the surface in choked off sobs, muffled against his knees. A faint whimper breaks through his haze of self-pity and it comes twice more before Kurt realizes it’s not coming from him. He glances up at the field and back towards the school and almost overlooks the small wiggling black shape on the ground in front of him. He blinks in disbelief, because…
“Seriously?”
It’s a puppy. A wet, slightly dirty, black and brown puppy, with big liquid chocolate eyes and it’s shivering in the remains of the snow on the field and Kurt’s scooping it up and cuddling it under his chin before he really thinks about it. The puppy’s nose is cold where he, and yes, Kurt double-checks quickly, the puppy is a boy, his nose is cold against Kurt’s face, still hot from his mad dash out of school and crying jag, and his coat is soft to the touch. The puppy snuffles it’s way under the edge of Kurt’s Louis Vuitton scarf, burrowing into the warmth and tickling Kurt in the process. Kurt draws his legs up and crosses them in front of him, making a little nest for the dog to curl up in, banishing the thought of getting mud and dog hair out of his clothes to the back of his mind.
Kurt feels slightly stupid, and drained, and when he hears footsteps coming towards him on the bleachers, he half-way expects it to be Zac Efron because his life is now a Disney movie of the week. Maybe a Jonas brother. I mean, come on, he’s sitting on the bleachers, crying, over a puppy. Kurt’s not entirely sure this wasn’t in an episode of Hannah Montana.
A faint whiff of sterile hospital and footballer sweat and the ever-present lingering smell of Axe wash over him, and Kurt feels himself relaxing just a little bit. Puck lowers himself gingerly onto the metal beam next to Kurt, hissing through his teeth when he shifts his shoulder the wrong way.
“The doctors know you’re here?” Kurt mutters, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.
“Yep.” Kurt shoots him a look and Noah scoffs, insulted.
“They do! Signed the discharge papers right in front of me.” Kurt looks at him steadily for a second before he crumbles. “All right, maybe your dad made them sign the papers ‘cause I kinda threatened to rip out the IV after Mercedes called me and told me you were flipping out.”
Kurt sighs and smoothes his hair back away from his face. “I was not flipping out.”
Puck just raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Dude, you’re sitting under the bleachers, bawling over a dog. If this is normal for you, you have bigger issues than I do.”
Kurt blushes slightly and turns away, drawing a deep breath before he brings it up, the thing that chased him out here. “So everybody kinda knows.”
“Yeah, I saw the artwork on my locker.” Puck says flatly. “What’s left of it anyway.” Kurt shoots him a confused look and Noah sighs before sliding closer and draping his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “Karofsky was cleaning it off. Sporting a nice shiner, too. Not as nice as the jockstrap/icepack combo Steve’s hobbling around wearing but you know, not everybody has your way with words.”
Kurt groans and tries to will the ground to open up under him. “I have no idea what came over me, resorting to violence. You’ve clearly been a bad influence.”
“Yep, that’s me.” Puck says shamelessly, sprawling his legs out in front of him. “I’m just bad news. But you love me anyway.”
“And humble, too.” Kurt pokes him in the side and he flinches a little to hard to be all pretend and that’s the second time the ‘L’ word has crossed Noah’s lips in reference to their relationship.
“Love, huh.” He says quietly, almost whispered.
“Hey.” Puck nudges him with his hip. “I don’t let just anybody see me sobbing like a twelve year old girl. And it’s not exactly a written declaration but castrating a guy for insulting my honor is kind of a give away. I think, anyhow.” He shrugs and looks at Kurt patiently, as the smaller boy tries to form a reply.
“I think…I think I’m not sure yet. But maybe…this feeling I’ve been having, in the pit of my stomach? Maybe it’s love.” They lapse into a comfortable silence, and Kurt’s surprised at the way the boiling tension of the past few days is slowly seeping out of him.
“So who’s this?” Puck changes the subject and picks up the puppy, large hands cradling it against his chest.
“Oh! He just kinda…found me. He probably belongs to somebody or something.” Kurt mutters, already missing the warm weight of the puppy in his lap, not that he would admit it.
“Well, there’s no collar.” Puck lifts the dog under it’s front paws until it’s nose to nose with him, it’s tail wagging slightly. “Hmm. Got some Lab in him, I think. Bet it’s one of the Matthews strays, that dog of theirs has litters all over the damn town.” The puppy and Puck stare at each other for a minute and for some reason Kurt’s holding his breath. The puppy is the one who finally makes a move, pink tongue slipping out to lick a stripe up Puck’s cheek. Noah laughs and carefully sets the dog back in Kurt’s lap with an amused smirk. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
And that-Kurt didn’t even say he wanted to-
“Besides,” Puck continues, “If we can handle a puppy, we can handle a baby. Right?” And Puck’s not looking at him, squinting in the direction of the scoreboard, and oh.
“Noah-”
“I know, I know, it’s not the same thing at all, really, I get that, I mean a dog and a baby are totally different, but they’re not, not really.” Puck cuts him off, rambling and talking with his hands like he only does when he’s nervous. “And Ella said something about me staying at your house and her maybe taking the apartment or vice versa, ’cause she’s gonna try and get custody of Ruthie from my mom, and she would help us out, I know she would, and I’m not easy, not at all, I get that, but you’re not a cakewalk either, not that that’s a bad thing, I meant, you know, that you’re not gonna put up with any crap, and I’m a package deal with a ton of issues and fuck, this is a lot to put up with but-”
Kurt grabs his shirt and hauls him in for a mind-blowing kiss, stealing Noah’s words and breath and tongue, sucking gently before pulling back, resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s.
“I love dogs.” He gives Noah a wry smile. “Besides I’ve kinda had two years of putting up with your bad side. As long as you don’t throw me in a dumpster every time we argue…”
Puck grimaces and lets his head fall back. “I’m never gonna get out from under that, am I?”
“Not a chance in hell.” Kurt leans against his broad shoulder, wrapping his hand around Puck’s wrist, and glancing down at the puppy now sleeping on the scarf in his lap.
“You know, you’re being really great about this.” He said absently remarks, already trying out names for their dog in his head. Oscar? Rover? Fluffy?
“I know.” Puck frowns. “I think I’m still high from the morphine.” He tucks the designer scarf a little closer around the dog’s body and Kurt blurts out the perfect name.
“Louis.”
“What?” Puck turns, checking around them for someone else, and he stiffens when he catches sight of a familiar tall form making it’s way across the end zone.
Finn approaches them slowly, the rest of Glee huddled at the entrance to the field. Kurt glares at the taller boy and wraps his fingers tighter around Puck’s arm. Finn nods in his direction before taking a deep breath and speaking to Puck’s profile.
“So, you were right.”
“I know.” Kurt nudges Puck in the side and he turns to face Finn while still managing to not to look directly at him. The tension is winding tighter around Puck and Kurt can feel his muscles jumping under his shirt as he clenches his fists.
“I was just so angry and hurt and…I know it’s stupid but it felt like I was losing my kid even though it wasn’t mine to lose and then I felt kinda relieved and then I felt like shit for feeling relieved and I just…wanted to make someone else feel bad, I guess. I never really thought about how maybe you had been feeling like that all along, though.” Puck looks at Finn now, holding his gaze, and Finn steps just a little bit closer. “I’m not sorry for being mad. You lied to me, man. You went behind my back and you knew I was freaking out over everything and you didn’t say anything. That’s not right. But,” Finn took a deep breath. “I am sorry I took it out on you so much. And I’m really sorry about what Steve did. That was way over the line.” Finn rubs his neck awkwardly and Kurt can see his knuckles are bruised, just a little. Kurt can feel the moment Puck relaxes, all the coiled energy in him slipping away, and evidently Finn can tell too, because he sits next to them and sighs as the rest of Glee club inches closer now that the chance of flying fists has apparently passed.
“Sorry I lied. I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you, bro.” Puck’s voice is gruff, but the apology is there and Finn ducks his head as the rest of the Gleeks reach them.
“So, uh, are we okay now?”
“No.” Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand when he inhales sharply and continues. “But we will be.”
The whole choir seems to breathe out as one and Finn smiles. “Cool.”
“Cool.” Puck smirks back, lightly punching his best friend‘s shoulder. Finn retaliates by pushing him and they begin laughing as they shove each other back and forth, Puck’s sore arm resting around Kurt’s waist, holding him against his side. He should protest the rough-housing, especially since he’s getting jerked closer into Noah every time and Louis is awake now, squirming in his arms , but Kurt just rolls his eyes at Mercedes and Santana and huffs.
“Boys.”
They settle after a minute, the whole Glee club’s resting against the bleachers, and it’s a little like the end of Grease, really, the gang all paired off and happy together and Kurt wants to linger here for as long as they can.
“So.” Finn breaks the silence with a sheepish look at Kurt and Puck’s entwined pose. “You and Kurt are, um, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Puck exhales, reaching out to scratch Louis’s head lightly.
“Awesome.” Finn wraps his own arm around Rachel, his other hand absently rubbing Quinn’s back.
“You know?” Puck says with his trademark smirk and a leer at Kurt, “It really is.”
End. I mean it.
And for those who were wondering, here's what Louis looks like:
