Fic: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
Title: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
Author: msrubyroo
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Warning: angst, OOC possibly, total lack of beta, footrubs
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Story of my life.
Author Notes: This took on a life of it's own...the original prompt was lovely and humourous and I turned it waay angsty. The title is from a song I listened to a lot while writing this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVtOPPqUBA8
Summary: From the prompt on the meme http://community.livejournal.com/puckurt/401627.html?thread=11637723#t11637723, this for drikadas .
Word Count: 2565
When Noah Puckerman entered “Hummel Tires and Lube” that grey October evening, Kurt Hummel very nearly threw a spanner at his head. Kurt had long since lost the pride he once felt in self-constraint. The memory of his former self, however, tried to make him believe he hadn’t misplaced his common sense, and had therefore deduced throwing a spanner at Noah Puckerman’s head was conducive only to momentary relief and a lengthy prison sentence.
In truth he was tired. He worked, had been working, in what felt like a repeating loop, a mechanical doll in a fairground, continuing, surviving, but never participating. It felt as if the tools he was using were controlling him, they seemed to hammer and screw and pump of their own volition.
With that same heavy feeling in his voice, he stared at the other man and asked, “Why? Why today?”
Noah Puckerman stared right back, as if at a pitiable stranger, his clothes sodden, rain trailing down the shadows of his face.
“I’m sorry. I just- need help.”
****
Kurt Hummel hadn’t seen his friends from high school in over three years. Since he’d come back to Lima and hadn’t left again. After what had happened, what Kurt now referred to as “The Accident”, Finn couldn’t set foot in the state, let alone the town.
“The Accident”. “The”. As if there had only ever been one accident, as if no other catastrophe, no other suffering in the world could be the same. And in Kurt’s world, he felt with desperate certainty, none could.
After Kurt had moved back home, Mercedes had visited as often as she could, although not as often as she’d have liked. But she’d moved West with a job offer and Kurt didn’t always pick up the phone when she called.
****
“I’m sorry. I just-need help.” Noah knew he sounded pathetic. He felt it. It was something about this place, Lima, which drew the life out of people. Lima Losers. He’d definitely been one, but that was behind him now. You could take the man out of Lima, and you could take Lima out of the man too. He had to believe that, he wasn’t a Lima Loser any longer.
But Kurt. Kurt looked like a ghost. Old and tired and nothing like himself. His overalls were worn and hadn’t been ironed, not like before, when Kurt would press out the creases methodically even as a topless Noah tried to pull him away from the ironing board and onto the bed.
People who didn’t know Kurt well would expect his clothing choice to be the obvious sign something was wrong, but for Noah it was everything about his outward appearance. The way he held himself, the intensity in his eyes, the small poised motions of his body were gone. And after a quarter of an hour; after Kurt had silently gone out to the car, taken a look under the hood with Noah holding his coat over the younger man to shield him from the rain and spent a time back in the garage rummaging through the spare parts in the workroom, Noah realised what he was finding the most disconcerting. Unlike any time Noah had ever watched Kurt work at the garage, or iron, or study, Kurt didn’t hum or sing or even talk. He stayed silent.
****
“I can get this fixed in the morning.”
“The morning?”
“I’ll need to wait til another guy is in, this is a two man job. “
Silence. Unsurprisingly it’s Noah who broke it.
“So. What do we do now?”
“We?”
“Or I…I is fine, doesn’t have to be we…”
Kurt hesitated, “We could go to this 24 hour diner just down the road?”
Noah nodded, “Cathy’s. I remember.”
****
Colours were dimmed; the crackling open sign a gaudy blinking white. It felt like a black and white cliché, but the two of them were occupying shades of grey. Noah imagined them both, he in immaculate spats, Kurt in an angled trilby. Playing out the detective life in celluloid.
Kurt imagined nothing; he’d given up dreaming a long time ago.
The lone waitress sidled over, Noah glanced at the ample cleavage stretching the fabric across her chest and the name embroidered there: Bethany. He resolved to leave a tip.
“Are you boys ready to order?” Hip jutted to one side, strawberry blonde hair high in a ponytail, pencil and attitude in hand. She looked like the ghost of their high school years- Cheerios, hair bouncing, sashaying down the hall, owning it like a runway.
Noah cleared his throat before answering, “Yes we are. We’ll take two coffees, one slice of whatever pie’s going and one stack of blueberry pancakes, extra syrup. Thanks.”
“You ordered for me.”
“I’m paying as well.”
Noah felt rather than saw Kurt bristle at that. The air practically sparked. Noah smiled, this as the Kurt he knew.
“I am perfectly capable of paying for myself.”
“I know you are.” His voice was genuine, but at that moment he realised, no, he didn’t know. He had no idea how Kurt was financially… emotionally. He just seemed worn down.
“You gonna tell me about it?” he tried.
Kurt took a deep breath. It didn’t quite end in a shudder, but it was close.
“Why are you here, Puck?”
Puck. That one word said so much more than Kurt’s acidic tone. He hadn’t called Noah “Puck” in nearly ten years.
“Truthfully? Business trip.”
“Really? In a jag?”
“I would have taken the jet, but Clarissa is always at me about saving the planet, so I thought I’d
at least pretend to make an effort.”
“Clarissa?”
“Secretary”
“I’ve no doubt.” Kurt’s tone was dry.
“So, you picked up on Clarissa, but not the fact I have a private jet?”
“Well, excuse me for understanding the ever-so-taxing practice of sarcasm you were employing and understanding your reference to a private jet was an attempt at humour.”
“And excuse me for not understanding a word of what you just said. And I do.”
“Do what?”
“Have a jet. Technically it’s company use for exec types.”
“So what are you, cabin crew?”
“Your underestimation of me stings. I am the exec type.”
Kurt let his head roll back, “You’re serious. You’re top floor and I’m-“ he trailed off.
“And you’re-” Noah prompted. Hoping, finally, Kurt was going to open up to him the way he used to do.
Kurt sighed, “Fine.”
Noah slammed his hands, palms down, on the table top, “You’re not fine!”
Kurt was staring straight forward, unseeing, he hadn’t even flinched, “You don’t have any right to be angry.”
“I have every fucking right. We were friends Kurt. We were lovers. And you told me nothing. I had to hear it through ‘Cedes. You just stopped talking to me.”
“You were a distraction.”
No, Kurt, I was there to support you. I would have been there if you’d have let me. But you shut me out; you shut all of us out. And now what do you have?”
“I have the shop. I’ve kept it so when he gets better…I didn’t- I couldn’t get rid of it. It means everything to him.”
“No, Kurt, you do. Burt‘d have given up a thousand, a million shops if it meant you were happy. And you aren’t happy Kurt.”
Kurt was silent.
“Listen to me. He would never never want you to sacrifice yourself to save that business.”
“What the hell do you know? You have no idea, no fucking idea what this is like.”
“Don’t I? To have a parent getting sick, getting worse in front of your eyes. Knowing they might pull through, might beat this, but you’re just so so afraid that if they do they won’t be the same.”
“Your situation is nothing like mine.” Kurt practically spat out the words.
“Isn’t it?”
“She’s a junkie, Puck. Your mom is a junkie; she isn’t “ill” or “poorly”. She’s just a mess. She made her decision. My dad didn’t choose any of this. Some stupid stupid high school drunk, just like your stupid stupid mom, chose to drive home. And now Carole is dead, and my dad might never wake up!” Kurt was bordering on hysterical. Bethany had retreated to the doorway of the kitchen. A handsome chef had his arm around her protectively and was glaring at their table as he rubbed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Noah tried to placate the younger man.
“No you’re not. No you’re not or you’d have-”
“I’d have what?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I’d have what Kurt? What? What should I have done?”
“YOU SHOULD HAVE COME BACK FOR ME!”
Silence except for Kurt’s heavy breathing. He looked away, “Sorry. Sorry, that wasn’t fair.”
“No. It wasn’t. What did you expect me to do Kurt? The crash happened in our last year. If I had left with you, I would’ve kissed my degree goodbye. “
“I know. I know that, I’m sorry.”
“You could have just rung. Emailed. Posted a letter even. At first, I thought, we all thought, it would be over in a few weeks. That he’d wake up, that you’d come back. But he didn’t, and even then, I’d decided; if you needed to stay in Lima, I was ready, Kurt. I was ready to support you from college, make things right with your lecturers, and be there for late night phone calls. And if you still needed to stay after I’d graduated, I would have come to you. But you never called. You never returned my attempts to contact you. We just went from planning apartments in the city and buying a cat and having this excess of joy for the future, to nothing. Because when it counted, I, “we”, “us”…it meant nothing to you. And I couldn’t wait forever.”
“You’re dating someone?”
“That isn’t what’s important right now Kurt.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry; it was just like I had no room in myself for anything but my dad. The nurses had to make sure I remembered to eat; I was a wreck. At first I just couldn’t deal with facing anyone, I refused to believe I needed anyone; I convinced myself it would be just one more hour and my dad would be fine. And when I finally realised I might be waiting for a long time, I knew that’s what I’d have to do: wait. I couldn’t move forwards or go back. I couldn’t drag any of you into that place. I wanted you to come, I wanted you to so bad, but I wouldn’t do it to you myself.”
Maybe that shouldn’t have been enough, maybe he should have walked away, but they’d never been very good at stopping and thinking, “I’m not.”
“Not-?”
“Dating anyone. I tried a few times at first, but in the end I threw myself into work instead. No one was- no one could- after you.”
Kurt held Noah’s gaze, eyes shining. Noah didn’t look away as he took a breath and began, “I loved Kurt Hummel, the boy in high school, the gleek, the fashionista, the prissy little diva, the man in college, the man I wanted to spend my life with. But you aren’t him.”
“I am.” Kurt breathed.
“You aren’t, not entirely. But I can’t not try. I can’t give up that easily again.”
Noah wanted Kurt, he wanted to help him and hold him and be helped and held. He didn’t want what they’d had before, he didn’t want a dream or the idea of Kurt. He wanted this, he wanted everything Kurt was, who he really was now. And when Kurt stood up from the warm plastic seat, leaving his food virtually untouched, and held out his hand for Noah to take, he knew Kurt felt the same.
****
It wasn’t like their first time, Noah didn’t want it to be, and Kurt had been still for too long. But the movement, the pace was the same; exploring each other all over again. Kurt was still sensitive just below his left ear, but he had new scars along his knuckles as if he’s punched something. Noah still loved Kurt rubbing his hipbones, but his muscles had become less defined than in his high school glory. Noah kissed the other man’s hand, lips brushing the old wounds, ran his hand through Kurt’s hair, beginning t turn grey in some patches much too early. Let his head roll back as Kurt ran his hands up and down his sides, sliding his palm across Noah’s nipples.
Kurt adored pedicures, massage, foot rubs. Before, Noah had done it as a treat, with the feeling of a chore. Now he slipped off Kurt’s socks with both hands, running his fingers up and down the soles of the younger man’s feet. He cradled them in his hands, digging his thumbs into the balls as Kurt moaned. He rubbed and squeezed and stretched the muscles and ligaments and felt Kurt completely relax down into the bed.
Kurt went to open Noah’s trousers, but as he pinched his fingers around the zip, Noah caught his hand and pulled it away.
“I want to make this about you, Kurt, it’s all about you.”
“If you want to make it about me, about what I want…”
Noah murmured his assent.
“I want it to be about us. Taking care of people, taking care of me, isn’t about treating them as victims.”
“I’m not-”
Kurt silenced him, pressing their lips together, after a moment he pulled away.
“Not intentionally. But you need to take care of me by making this everything it has always been between us, by making it normal. Equal. Equal pleasure, equal giving, and equal taking. I want this to be about both of us.”
****
They were both awake, laying tangled in the sheets, listening to each other breath but looking at the ceiling. Noah felt a hand touch his tentatively. He linked his fingers with it. Kurt rolled into his side, “Thank you.”
Noah turned his head, pressed a kiss into Kurt’s hair. This time the silence was peaceful and safe. This time it was Kurt who broke it.
“I like to think, every time I fix up a car; replace a tire; check the brakes, I’ve helped someone. Some possible victim in a world where I hadn’t been here to make sure everything was working, someone who was hit when the brakes failed or the tyre burst. I have a confession.”
“Hmm..?”
“I fixed your car yesterday, it’s working fine now.”
“Then why did you-”
“I didn’t want you to drive in that weather, I wanted to keep you safe, just for a little while. You should go. Your business trip.”
“I want to stay.”
“Come on Noah,” Kurt pulled him up to a sitting position, “Your meeting, when is it?”
Noah stretched and looked at his watch, “Two o’clock yesterday afternoon.”
“Yesterday?!”
“Yeah, I called back to the office, told them about the car, persuaded them I’d never make it on time and to send Ferguson in the jet.” He flopped back down on the bed and tugged Kurt with him so the smaller man was sprawled across his chest, “But we do need to talk about what happens now.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either.”
“I do know that I…I love you.”
Noah smiled gently, “Well, that’s a start.”
Author: msrubyroo
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Warning: angst, OOC possibly, total lack of beta, footrubs
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Story of my life.
Author Notes: This took on a life of it's own...the original prompt was lovely and humourous and I turned it waay angsty. The title is from a song I listened to a lot while writing this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVtOPPqUBA8
Summary: From the prompt on the meme http://community.livejournal.com/puckurt/401627.html?thread=11637723#t11637723, this for drikadas .
Word Count: 2565
When Noah Puckerman entered “Hummel Tires and Lube” that grey October evening, Kurt Hummel very nearly threw a spanner at his head. Kurt had long since lost the pride he once felt in self-constraint. The memory of his former self, however, tried to make him believe he hadn’t misplaced his common sense, and had therefore deduced throwing a spanner at Noah Puckerman’s head was conducive only to momentary relief and a lengthy prison sentence.
In truth he was tired. He worked, had been working, in what felt like a repeating loop, a mechanical doll in a fairground, continuing, surviving, but never participating. It felt as if the tools he was using were controlling him, they seemed to hammer and screw and pump of their own volition.
With that same heavy feeling in his voice, he stared at the other man and asked, “Why? Why today?”
Noah Puckerman stared right back, as if at a pitiable stranger, his clothes sodden, rain trailing down the shadows of his face.
“I’m sorry. I just- need help.”
****
Kurt Hummel hadn’t seen his friends from high school in over three years. Since he’d come back to Lima and hadn’t left again. After what had happened, what Kurt now referred to as “The Accident”, Finn couldn’t set foot in the state, let alone the town.
“The Accident”. “The”. As if there had only ever been one accident, as if no other catastrophe, no other suffering in the world could be the same. And in Kurt’s world, he felt with desperate certainty, none could.
After Kurt had moved back home, Mercedes had visited as often as she could, although not as often as she’d have liked. But she’d moved West with a job offer and Kurt didn’t always pick up the phone when she called.
****
“I’m sorry. I just-need help.” Noah knew he sounded pathetic. He felt it. It was something about this place, Lima, which drew the life out of people. Lima Losers. He’d definitely been one, but that was behind him now. You could take the man out of Lima, and you could take Lima out of the man too. He had to believe that, he wasn’t a Lima Loser any longer.
But Kurt. Kurt looked like a ghost. Old and tired and nothing like himself. His overalls were worn and hadn’t been ironed, not like before, when Kurt would press out the creases methodically even as a topless Noah tried to pull him away from the ironing board and onto the bed.
People who didn’t know Kurt well would expect his clothing choice to be the obvious sign something was wrong, but for Noah it was everything about his outward appearance. The way he held himself, the intensity in his eyes, the small poised motions of his body were gone. And after a quarter of an hour; after Kurt had silently gone out to the car, taken a look under the hood with Noah holding his coat over the younger man to shield him from the rain and spent a time back in the garage rummaging through the spare parts in the workroom, Noah realised what he was finding the most disconcerting. Unlike any time Noah had ever watched Kurt work at the garage, or iron, or study, Kurt didn’t hum or sing or even talk. He stayed silent.
****
“I can get this fixed in the morning.”
“The morning?”
“I’ll need to wait til another guy is in, this is a two man job. “
Silence. Unsurprisingly it’s Noah who broke it.
“So. What do we do now?”
“We?”
“Or I…I is fine, doesn’t have to be we…”
Kurt hesitated, “We could go to this 24 hour diner just down the road?”
Noah nodded, “Cathy’s. I remember.”
****
Colours were dimmed; the crackling open sign a gaudy blinking white. It felt like a black and white cliché, but the two of them were occupying shades of grey. Noah imagined them both, he in immaculate spats, Kurt in an angled trilby. Playing out the detective life in celluloid.
Kurt imagined nothing; he’d given up dreaming a long time ago.
The lone waitress sidled over, Noah glanced at the ample cleavage stretching the fabric across her chest and the name embroidered there: Bethany. He resolved to leave a tip.
“Are you boys ready to order?” Hip jutted to one side, strawberry blonde hair high in a ponytail, pencil and attitude in hand. She looked like the ghost of their high school years- Cheerios, hair bouncing, sashaying down the hall, owning it like a runway.
Noah cleared his throat before answering, “Yes we are. We’ll take two coffees, one slice of whatever pie’s going and one stack of blueberry pancakes, extra syrup. Thanks.”
“You ordered for me.”
“I’m paying as well.”
Noah felt rather than saw Kurt bristle at that. The air practically sparked. Noah smiled, this as the Kurt he knew.
“I am perfectly capable of paying for myself.”
“I know you are.” His voice was genuine, but at that moment he realised, no, he didn’t know. He had no idea how Kurt was financially… emotionally. He just seemed worn down.
“You gonna tell me about it?” he tried.
Kurt took a deep breath. It didn’t quite end in a shudder, but it was close.
“Why are you here, Puck?”
Puck. That one word said so much more than Kurt’s acidic tone. He hadn’t called Noah “Puck” in nearly ten years.
“Truthfully? Business trip.”
“Really? In a jag?”
“I would have taken the jet, but Clarissa is always at me about saving the planet, so I thought I’d
at least pretend to make an effort.”
“Clarissa?”
“Secretary”
“I’ve no doubt.” Kurt’s tone was dry.
“So, you picked up on Clarissa, but not the fact I have a private jet?”
“Well, excuse me for understanding the ever-so-taxing practice of sarcasm you were employing and understanding your reference to a private jet was an attempt at humour.”
“And excuse me for not understanding a word of what you just said. And I do.”
“Do what?”
“Have a jet. Technically it’s company use for exec types.”
“So what are you, cabin crew?”
“Your underestimation of me stings. I am the exec type.”
Kurt let his head roll back, “You’re serious. You’re top floor and I’m-“ he trailed off.
“And you’re-” Noah prompted. Hoping, finally, Kurt was going to open up to him the way he used to do.
Kurt sighed, “Fine.”
Noah slammed his hands, palms down, on the table top, “You’re not fine!”
Kurt was staring straight forward, unseeing, he hadn’t even flinched, “You don’t have any right to be angry.”
“I have every fucking right. We were friends Kurt. We were lovers. And you told me nothing. I had to hear it through ‘Cedes. You just stopped talking to me.”
“You were a distraction.”
No, Kurt, I was there to support you. I would have been there if you’d have let me. But you shut me out; you shut all of us out. And now what do you have?”
“I have the shop. I’ve kept it so when he gets better…I didn’t- I couldn’t get rid of it. It means everything to him.”
“No, Kurt, you do. Burt‘d have given up a thousand, a million shops if it meant you were happy. And you aren’t happy Kurt.”
Kurt was silent.
“Listen to me. He would never never want you to sacrifice yourself to save that business.”
“What the hell do you know? You have no idea, no fucking idea what this is like.”
“Don’t I? To have a parent getting sick, getting worse in front of your eyes. Knowing they might pull through, might beat this, but you’re just so so afraid that if they do they won’t be the same.”
“Your situation is nothing like mine.” Kurt practically spat out the words.
“Isn’t it?”
“She’s a junkie, Puck. Your mom is a junkie; she isn’t “ill” or “poorly”. She’s just a mess. She made her decision. My dad didn’t choose any of this. Some stupid stupid high school drunk, just like your stupid stupid mom, chose to drive home. And now Carole is dead, and my dad might never wake up!” Kurt was bordering on hysterical. Bethany had retreated to the doorway of the kitchen. A handsome chef had his arm around her protectively and was glaring at their table as he rubbed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Noah tried to placate the younger man.
“No you’re not. No you’re not or you’d have-”
“I’d have what?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I’d have what Kurt? What? What should I have done?”
“YOU SHOULD HAVE COME BACK FOR ME!”
Silence except for Kurt’s heavy breathing. He looked away, “Sorry. Sorry, that wasn’t fair.”
“No. It wasn’t. What did you expect me to do Kurt? The crash happened in our last year. If I had left with you, I would’ve kissed my degree goodbye. “
“I know. I know that, I’m sorry.”
“You could have just rung. Emailed. Posted a letter even. At first, I thought, we all thought, it would be over in a few weeks. That he’d wake up, that you’d come back. But he didn’t, and even then, I’d decided; if you needed to stay in Lima, I was ready, Kurt. I was ready to support you from college, make things right with your lecturers, and be there for late night phone calls. And if you still needed to stay after I’d graduated, I would have come to you. But you never called. You never returned my attempts to contact you. We just went from planning apartments in the city and buying a cat and having this excess of joy for the future, to nothing. Because when it counted, I, “we”, “us”…it meant nothing to you. And I couldn’t wait forever.”
“You’re dating someone?”
“That isn’t what’s important right now Kurt.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry; it was just like I had no room in myself for anything but my dad. The nurses had to make sure I remembered to eat; I was a wreck. At first I just couldn’t deal with facing anyone, I refused to believe I needed anyone; I convinced myself it would be just one more hour and my dad would be fine. And when I finally realised I might be waiting for a long time, I knew that’s what I’d have to do: wait. I couldn’t move forwards or go back. I couldn’t drag any of you into that place. I wanted you to come, I wanted you to so bad, but I wouldn’t do it to you myself.”
Maybe that shouldn’t have been enough, maybe he should have walked away, but they’d never been very good at stopping and thinking, “I’m not.”
“Not-?”
“Dating anyone. I tried a few times at first, but in the end I threw myself into work instead. No one was- no one could- after you.”
Kurt held Noah’s gaze, eyes shining. Noah didn’t look away as he took a breath and began, “I loved Kurt Hummel, the boy in high school, the gleek, the fashionista, the prissy little diva, the man in college, the man I wanted to spend my life with. But you aren’t him.”
“I am.” Kurt breathed.
“You aren’t, not entirely. But I can’t not try. I can’t give up that easily again.”
Noah wanted Kurt, he wanted to help him and hold him and be helped and held. He didn’t want what they’d had before, he didn’t want a dream or the idea of Kurt. He wanted this, he wanted everything Kurt was, who he really was now. And when Kurt stood up from the warm plastic seat, leaving his food virtually untouched, and held out his hand for Noah to take, he knew Kurt felt the same.
****
It wasn’t like their first time, Noah didn’t want it to be, and Kurt had been still for too long. But the movement, the pace was the same; exploring each other all over again. Kurt was still sensitive just below his left ear, but he had new scars along his knuckles as if he’s punched something. Noah still loved Kurt rubbing his hipbones, but his muscles had become less defined than in his high school glory. Noah kissed the other man’s hand, lips brushing the old wounds, ran his hand through Kurt’s hair, beginning t turn grey in some patches much too early. Let his head roll back as Kurt ran his hands up and down his sides, sliding his palm across Noah’s nipples.
Kurt adored pedicures, massage, foot rubs. Before, Noah had done it as a treat, with the feeling of a chore. Now he slipped off Kurt’s socks with both hands, running his fingers up and down the soles of the younger man’s feet. He cradled them in his hands, digging his thumbs into the balls as Kurt moaned. He rubbed and squeezed and stretched the muscles and ligaments and felt Kurt completely relax down into the bed.
Kurt went to open Noah’s trousers, but as he pinched his fingers around the zip, Noah caught his hand and pulled it away.
“I want to make this about you, Kurt, it’s all about you.”
“If you want to make it about me, about what I want…”
Noah murmured his assent.
“I want it to be about us. Taking care of people, taking care of me, isn’t about treating them as victims.”
“I’m not-”
Kurt silenced him, pressing their lips together, after a moment he pulled away.
“Not intentionally. But you need to take care of me by making this everything it has always been between us, by making it normal. Equal. Equal pleasure, equal giving, and equal taking. I want this to be about both of us.”
****
They were both awake, laying tangled in the sheets, listening to each other breath but looking at the ceiling. Noah felt a hand touch his tentatively. He linked his fingers with it. Kurt rolled into his side, “Thank you.”
Noah turned his head, pressed a kiss into Kurt’s hair. This time the silence was peaceful and safe. This time it was Kurt who broke it.
“I like to think, every time I fix up a car; replace a tire; check the brakes, I’ve helped someone. Some possible victim in a world where I hadn’t been here to make sure everything was working, someone who was hit when the brakes failed or the tyre burst. I have a confession.”
“Hmm..?”
“I fixed your car yesterday, it’s working fine now.”
“Then why did you-”
“I didn’t want you to drive in that weather, I wanted to keep you safe, just for a little while. You should go. Your business trip.”
“I want to stay.”
“Come on Noah,” Kurt pulled him up to a sitting position, “Your meeting, when is it?”
Noah stretched and looked at his watch, “Two o’clock yesterday afternoon.”
“Yesterday?!”
“Yeah, I called back to the office, told them about the car, persuaded them I’d never make it on time and to send Ferguson in the jet.” He flopped back down on the bed and tugged Kurt with him so the smaller man was sprawled across his chest, “But we do need to talk about what happens now.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either.”
“I do know that I…I love you.”
Noah smiled gently, “Well, that’s a start.”