snow is gone, 4/?
anonymous
November 15 2010, 01:24:05 UTC
She tries to persuade him to go into school, but he knows it would never end well if he tried. He looks over his notes and work a little, but mostly he lingers on the sheet-music for glee, staring down at it and feeling pretty fucking useless all over again.
Try it, Kurt writes. They're in his basement; since they argued at Puck's, Kurt hasn't came back to see him, and Puck doesn't mind his company, and maybe possibly feels just a little bad, just a little ungrateful.
Puck makes a face at him, and Kurt crosses his arms, expectantly.
He sings the first few bars, hopefully as quietly as he intends. It's an odd feeling, discontentedly hollow, to sing words he can't hear, notes he doesn't know if he's hitting right, but Kurt smiles at him the whole time, regardless, and - it does make Puck feel better, in the end.
He nods enthusiastically when Puck trails off, still smiling, and something in Puck feels very suddenly bared, very suddenly soft.
-
Losing his hearing has taught Puck three major things:
1. Watching silent reruns of The OC means the show makes even less sense to him.
2. At some point in his life, he should have invested in lipreading, or even knowledge in sign language that extended further than just his middle finger.
3. He might be a little more lonely than he first suspected.
Puck blames the third one on last semester - on what happened with Finn and Quinn; on joining the glee club; on dating Rachel Berry - and that's fair enough. If this happened a year ago, Finn would undoubtedly be barging into his room freaking out and forgetting the number for an ambulance. The football team might take a little interest. Santana wouldn't despise him as much, might show up a little. His mother would probably care a lot more than she is.
Maybe even Quinn would show.
Kurt isn't his first choice for company, not really, but he's as good as current-Puck is going to get, and that might not be as bad a thing as he first assumed it would be.
-
At the weekend, he drags Kurt out to a shop that sells guitars. He doesn't say anything the way there, just stares out the window. Kurt spends the drive wearing a frown and glancing at him questioningly every so often.
When they pull up at the entrance, Kurt yanks out his iPhone and types, I'm not some kind of charity.
Puck makes a face. "I'm not paying you for the four minute drive here."
Kurt rolls his eyes at him, then, I have a life.
"Not until I'm better, you don't," Puck tells him. He grabs Kurt by the arm and drags him inside.
They don't really do anything in the store, but Puck still likes it in there, surrounded by quieted instruments with Kurt, who looks over them with unhidden boredom. The guy managing takes a call through the back and that's when Kurt leads Puck by the wrist to the speakers at the side and switches the biggest one on. His fingers are on the volume dial, twisting, until it's so loud his face catches in a scowl.
He takes Puck's hand and sets it against the speaker, where it trembles from the vibrations, the deafening noise. Puck presses his ear to it and there's a buzz again, louder, fuzzier, but there. He shuts his eyes, listens for a but, but the guy managing comes back inside and from what Puck can see, he isn't really happy at the attempt to deafen the customers (who aren't already deaf, that is).
They get kicked out the store. The clerk yells and makes a lot of angry gestures at Kurt, who looks deeply apologetic and makes to reply when Puck drags him out the store, snorting.
"Idiot," Puck mutters, more to himself, but Kurt's the only one who hears it. He rolls his eyes, again, then brings his iPhone back out.
His fingers tap the keys in a flurry. Anything? it reads. Kurt's got concern in his eyes, now.
Puck pauses for a moment before shaking his head, solemnly. "Not a thing," he answers, and Kurt nods slowly, absorbing the news. After another moment, he helps Puck cross the road to get to the passenger's seat, mouth drawn thin.
snow is gone, 5/?
anonymous
November 15 2010, 01:26:08 UTC
Highschool has taught Puck three major things:
1. He's not good with school. Puck's smart, but he refuses to study or put it to use, is the thing. It's a waste, really, but he's settled on the decision by now, so - what can you do?
2. He's not good with girls. When sex isn't included, that is. The two girls outside of Quinn he's genuinely liked are Rachel and Mercedes, but they didn't put out, so he never even bothered to make an effort.
3. He's not good with friends. Period.
Today Kurt's bribed him into homework by waving a bag of sugar-free cookies over his head while he reads over Spanish notes, and Puck has no idea how they've got here.
If you finish it all, I'll give you some, he's written on the side of the page. He's rearranging the pile of DVD's at the foot of the bed. Puck would deny that he purposely left them there after Kurt went home early the night before (You don't need anything else). He looks at the note, to Kurt, to the blank spaces for answers on the homework sheet.
"That sounds pretty dirty," Puck says over the textbook. He can half-hear it now, gravelly and low an just off coherent.
He glances at Kurt, and revels for a second in the deep shade of red that takes over his cheeks.
Kurt blinks at him, ridiculously flushed, then leans down and starts fiddling with the films again like nothing happened. Which is mostly expected, and which does things to Puck's stomach; so does the way Kurt haltingly smiles back every time he catches Puck smirking over at him, the way Kurt takes the paper out his hand and looks over it carefully, lips parted and eyes green, and shiny.
You need to study more, Kurt tells him. His face is blank, unimpressed - Puck can see a tiny smile beneath it all.
Kurt still ends up handing him the bag of cookies after wordlessly demanding a pinky-promise that he'll study. Puck goes along with it, but he's pretty sure from the look on Kurt's face they both know it isn't going to happen.
-
He comes to the understanding only a week before Regionals that he likes Kurt.
That's also when he wakes up to the vague sounds of cars outside, and the shower running from next door, for the first time in what feels like forever.
-
Kurt still writes everything he means to say down, in his neat, font-like handwriting. Puck still leaves him to believe he's as deaf as ever.
When they're together, Kurt doesn't even make a sound. He doesn't speak a word at all, snorts instead of laughing. Sometimes his phone goes off - the first time, Puck had to catch himself before he snorted at the sound of Boys Boys Boys blaring from Kurt's iPhone - or they sit a little closer together than usual, and Puck can hear his breath, soft and a bit reassuring.
-
It's the Monday before Regionals. Kurt's impatient now. He keeps trying to convince Puck to visit the doctor's, which is an awkward argument to have over pencil and paper, especially when the incessant, outdrawn scratch of lead makes Puck want to tell him just to say it, already.
Regionals ends up coming up, since it's all either of them are thinking about anyway.
Kurt pauses for a moment, cheeks red, before sliding a scrap of paper over.
We need you. It makes Puck feel like shit, makes him want to apologize, even.
Instead, he pushes Kurt to curve over his seat, ignoring the squeak of surprise he makes, and sets his head against Kurt's chest, carefully, like he's trying to gingerly fit them together. He can hear the frantic beat of Kurt's heart instantly, the 'what? bubbling at his lips.
"Sing," is all Puck says, softly.
Kurt hesitates, and Puck shuts his eyes, listens to him breathe.
Then comes first bars of Mr Cellophane; Puck listens to his voice, sweet and melodic, his heartbeat, the music; he feels the vibrations of Kurt's voice against his cheek, every stilted, trembling breath, a warm body against his own, and a dozen other lies.
snow is gone, 6/6
anonymous
November 15 2010, 01:30:49 UTC
His mom knows now that he's practically all better. She and his sister still have to yell everything a few times over so he can really hear it, but there's no doubt he's almost good as new, or he will be soon.
It's about time, really.
"Hi," Puck says when Kurt steps into his room. His mom's been talking - yelling - at him about this as well, the boy he spends all his time locked in his bedroom with. Puck tells her they're friends, but he doesn't even know if that's a real answer, either, and he doesn't know if he'd give her the real one if he had it.
Kurt smiles at him, a small awkward smile he's taken to given Puck lately. His cheeks are all read from the cold, from being around Puck. He unbuttons his coat and waves a hand in reply, still smiling.
"Say hi," Puck tells him from the other side of the room.
Kurt's brow furrows. He folds his coat over his arms and says, curiously, "Hi?"
It's strange to spend so long with someone in complete silence, to forget how they talk. It's not at full clarity yet, but he can make the simpler words out, can still hear the soft, high tone of Kurt's voice again, and that's enough.
Puck face spreads into a slow grin, then he says, again, "Hi."
There's a short moment before Kurt grins back at him, brightly. "Took you long enough," he says, quietly, and Puck just shrugs.
-
Kurt really does drive him out to the doctor's this time. He tells him to act politely, say thank you, smile at the nurses without sex in his eyes. Puck finds it hard to take any information in when Kurt's talking; it feels brand new, and nice. Kurt keeps catching Puck smiling at him like an idiot, but he doesn't say anything except, "And keep your hands out your pockets, will you?"
They're slotted in for a five minute examination between Doctor Lopez's appointments. He seems happy Puck understands him practically perfectly this time around. Kurt sits at his side on on the hospital bed the whole time, fidgeting until Puck nudges him when the doctor's back is turned and tells him to calm down.
"I am calm," Kurt says quietly, staring at his feet.
Puck goes to reply when the doctor tells him the healing is going well, that he should be alright soon, and that he can go to Regionals and perform - the news Kurt's been waiting on that he doesn't seem the least pleased to hear.
-
They sit in the car-park after, in silence - Puck sits clicking his seatbelt over and over to break it. He's not good with silences now; they've made him feel antsy and a tad scared since.
Kurt's just staring out the window, holding the steering-wheel and frowning.
"It's not good news?" Puck asks, lowly. He pushes the button in again, just for something to do with his hands.
Kurt blinks at him, then answers with confusion, "I don't know." He's got his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
They both pause, then Puck says before he can even register that he's talking, "I'll still like you." It's an accident, then floodgates are being forced open. "If anything, I'll like you more when I can hear what the fuck you're actually talking about."
The look on Kurt's face, like he's been caught red-handed, called out, like this thing between them is being acknowledged for a minute, finally - it's odd to see. "I don't know if I'll like you when you're not deaf, though," Kurt counters, like a reflex. A smile is quirking at his lips.
"It could work," Puck says. He shrugs.
Kurt's still looking at him, still half-smiling, and Puck doesn't even let himself think about what he does next.
He leans over and kisses the soft corner of Kurt's mouth, carefully, dryly. Kurt hums against his lips, and Puck feels his lashes brushing against his cheek when he closes his eyes. He slides his hand over Kurt's on wheel, holding it firmly, then buries his head into Kurt's neck and breathes in his McQueen scarf, and listens to the same familiar sound of his heart beating, more paced, now. "I," Puck starts, then he shakes his head, buries himself deeper and squeezes Kurt's hand in his own, the words dying in his throat.
Kurt snorts. He leans down to press a warm kiss to his cheek, smiling into the skin, then hovers his mouth over Puck's ear and says, quietly, "You're welcome."
Re: snow is gone, 6/6
anonymous
November 15 2010, 10:05:29 UTC
I love everything about this fic. So much.
Then comes first bars of Mr Cellophane; Puck listens to his voice, sweet and melodic, his heartbeat, the music; he feels the vibrations of Kurt's voice against his cheek, every stilted, trembling breath, a warm body against his own, and a dozen other lies.
Kurt hums against his lips, and Puck feels his lashes brushing against his cheek when he closes his eyes.
Re: snow is gone, 6/6burn_to_emergeNovember 19 2010, 02:05:16 UTC
This was gorgeous. The way you describe Puck's world without one of his senses is so lovely and, well, quiet, literally, and in a mood-setting way. I love the closed-in feel of a lonely Puck, and then Puck and Kurt in their own little bubble. ♥
If this happened a year ago, Finn would undoubtedly be barging into his room freaking out and forgetting the number for an ambulance.
Re: snow is gone, 6/6bookstorequeerNovember 20 2010, 02:56:56 UTC
Awww, that was wicked! I love the slow progression. I too have had perforated ear drums and it's a scary thing, not knowing if it's going to come back. Well done!
Try it, Kurt writes. They're in his basement; since they argued at Puck's, Kurt hasn't came back to see him, and Puck doesn't mind his company, and maybe possibly feels just a little bad, just a little ungrateful.
Puck makes a face at him, and Kurt crosses his arms, expectantly.
He sings the first few bars, hopefully as quietly as he intends. It's an odd feeling, discontentedly hollow, to sing words he can't hear, notes he doesn't know if he's hitting right, but Kurt smiles at him the whole time, regardless, and - it does make Puck feel better, in the end.
He nods enthusiastically when Puck trails off, still smiling, and something in Puck feels very suddenly bared, very suddenly soft.
-
Losing his hearing has taught Puck three major things:
1. Watching silent reruns of The OC means the show makes even less sense to him.
2. At some point in his life, he should have invested in lipreading, or even knowledge in sign language that extended further than just his middle finger.
3. He might be a little more lonely than he first suspected.
Puck blames the third one on last semester - on what happened with Finn and Quinn; on joining the glee club; on dating Rachel Berry - and that's fair enough. If this happened a year ago, Finn would undoubtedly be barging into his room freaking out and forgetting the number for an ambulance. The football team might take a little interest. Santana wouldn't despise him as much, might show up a little. His mother would probably care a lot more than she is.
Maybe even Quinn would show.
Kurt isn't his first choice for company, not really, but he's as good as current-Puck is going to get, and that might not be as bad a thing as he first assumed it would be.
-
At the weekend, he drags Kurt out to a shop that sells guitars. He doesn't say anything the way there, just stares out the window. Kurt spends the drive wearing a frown and glancing at him questioningly every so often.
When they pull up at the entrance, Kurt yanks out his iPhone and types, I'm not some kind of charity.
Puck makes a face. "I'm not paying you for the four minute drive here."
Kurt rolls his eyes at him, then, I have a life.
"Not until I'm better, you don't," Puck tells him. He grabs Kurt by the arm and drags him inside.
They don't really do anything in the store, but Puck still likes it in there, surrounded by quieted instruments with Kurt, who looks over them with unhidden boredom. The guy managing takes a call through the back and that's when Kurt leads Puck by the wrist to the speakers at the side and switches the biggest one on. His fingers are on the volume dial, twisting, until it's so loud his face catches in a scowl.
He takes Puck's hand and sets it against the speaker, where it trembles from the vibrations, the deafening noise. Puck presses his ear to it and there's a buzz again, louder, fuzzier, but there. He shuts his eyes, listens for a but, but the guy managing comes back inside and from what Puck can see, he isn't really happy at the attempt to deafen the customers (who aren't already deaf, that is).
They get kicked out the store. The clerk yells and makes a lot of angry gestures at Kurt, who looks deeply apologetic and makes to reply when Puck drags him out the store, snorting.
"Idiot," Puck mutters, more to himself, but Kurt's the only one who hears it. He rolls his eyes, again, then brings his iPhone back out.
His fingers tap the keys in a flurry. Anything? it reads. Kurt's got concern in his eyes, now.
Puck pauses for a moment before shaking his head, solemnly. "Not a thing," he answers, and Kurt nods slowly, absorbing the news. After another moment, he helps Puck cross the road to get to the passenger's seat, mouth drawn thin.
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1. He's not good with school. Puck's smart, but he refuses to study or put it to use, is the thing. It's a waste, really, but he's settled on the decision by now, so - what can you do?
2. He's not good with girls. When sex isn't included, that is. The two girls outside of Quinn he's genuinely liked are Rachel and Mercedes, but they didn't put out, so he never even bothered to make an effort.
3. He's not good with friends. Period.
Today Kurt's bribed him into homework by waving a bag of sugar-free cookies over his head while he reads over Spanish notes, and Puck has no idea how they've got here.
If you finish it all, I'll give you some, he's written on the side of the page. He's rearranging the pile of DVD's at the foot of the bed. Puck would deny that he purposely left them there after Kurt went home early the night before (You don't need anything else). He looks at the note, to Kurt, to the blank spaces for answers on the homework sheet.
"That sounds pretty dirty," Puck says over the textbook. He can half-hear it now, gravelly and low an just off coherent.
He glances at Kurt, and revels for a second in the deep shade of red that takes over his cheeks.
Kurt blinks at him, ridiculously flushed, then leans down and starts fiddling with the films again like nothing happened. Which is mostly expected, and which does things to Puck's stomach; so does the way Kurt haltingly smiles back every time he catches Puck smirking over at him, the way Kurt takes the paper out his hand and looks over it carefully, lips parted and eyes green, and shiny.
You need to study more, Kurt tells him. His face is blank, unimpressed - Puck can see a tiny smile beneath it all.
Kurt still ends up handing him the bag of cookies after wordlessly demanding a pinky-promise that he'll study. Puck goes along with it, but he's pretty sure from the look on Kurt's face they both know it isn't going to happen.
-
He comes to the understanding only a week before Regionals that he likes Kurt.
That's also when he wakes up to the vague sounds of cars outside, and the shower running from next door, for the first time in what feels like forever.
-
Kurt still writes everything he means to say down, in his neat, font-like handwriting. Puck still leaves him to believe he's as deaf as ever.
When they're together, Kurt doesn't even make a sound. He doesn't speak a word at all, snorts instead of laughing. Sometimes his phone goes off - the first time, Puck had to catch himself before he snorted at the sound of Boys Boys Boys blaring from Kurt's iPhone - or they sit a little closer together than usual, and Puck can hear his breath, soft and a bit reassuring.
-
It's the Monday before Regionals. Kurt's impatient now. He keeps trying to convince Puck to visit the doctor's, which is an awkward argument to have over pencil and paper, especially when the incessant, outdrawn scratch of lead makes Puck want to tell him just to say it, already.
Regionals ends up coming up, since it's all either of them are thinking about anyway.
Kurt pauses for a moment, cheeks red, before sliding a scrap of paper over.
We need you. It makes Puck feel like shit, makes him want to apologize, even.
Instead, he pushes Kurt to curve over his seat, ignoring the squeak of surprise he makes, and sets his head against Kurt's chest, carefully, like he's trying to gingerly fit them together. He can hear the frantic beat of Kurt's heart instantly, the 'what? bubbling at his lips.
"Sing," is all Puck says, softly.
Kurt hesitates, and Puck shuts his eyes, listens to him breathe.
Then comes first bars of Mr Cellophane; Puck listens to his voice, sweet and melodic, his heartbeat, the music; he feels the vibrations of Kurt's voice against his cheek, every stilted, trembling breath, a warm body against his own, and a dozen other lies.
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It's about time, really.
"Hi," Puck says when Kurt steps into his room. His mom's been talking - yelling - at him about this as well, the boy he spends all his time locked in his bedroom with. Puck tells her they're friends, but he doesn't even know if that's a real answer, either, and he doesn't know if he'd give her the real one if he had it.
Kurt smiles at him, a small awkward smile he's taken to given Puck lately. His cheeks are all read from the cold, from being around Puck. He unbuttons his coat and waves a hand in reply, still smiling.
"Say hi," Puck tells him from the other side of the room.
Kurt's brow furrows. He folds his coat over his arms and says, curiously, "Hi?"
It's strange to spend so long with someone in complete silence, to forget how they talk. It's not at full clarity yet, but he can make the simpler words out, can still hear the soft, high tone of Kurt's voice again, and that's enough.
Puck face spreads into a slow grin, then he says, again, "Hi."
There's a short moment before Kurt grins back at him, brightly. "Took you long enough," he says, quietly, and Puck just shrugs.
-
Kurt really does drive him out to the doctor's this time. He tells him to act politely, say thank you, smile at the nurses without sex in his eyes. Puck finds it hard to take any information in when Kurt's talking; it feels brand new, and nice. Kurt keeps catching Puck smiling at him like an idiot, but he doesn't say anything except, "And keep your hands out your pockets, will you?"
They're slotted in for a five minute examination between Doctor Lopez's appointments. He seems happy Puck understands him practically perfectly this time around. Kurt sits at his side on on the hospital bed the whole time, fidgeting until Puck nudges him when the doctor's back is turned and tells him to calm down.
"I am calm," Kurt says quietly, staring at his feet.
Puck goes to reply when the doctor tells him the healing is going well, that he should be alright soon, and that he can go to Regionals and perform - the news Kurt's been waiting on that he doesn't seem the least pleased to hear.
-
They sit in the car-park after, in silence - Puck sits clicking his seatbelt over and over to break it. He's not good with silences now; they've made him feel antsy and a tad scared since.
Kurt's just staring out the window, holding the steering-wheel and frowning.
"It's not good news?" Puck asks, lowly. He pushes the button in again, just for something to do with his hands.
Kurt blinks at him, then answers with confusion, "I don't know." He's got his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
They both pause, then Puck says before he can even register that he's talking, "I'll still like you." It's an accident, then floodgates are being forced open. "If anything, I'll like you more when I can hear what the fuck you're actually talking about."
The look on Kurt's face, like he's been caught red-handed, called out, like this thing between them is being acknowledged for a minute, finally - it's odd to see. "I don't know if I'll like you when you're not deaf, though," Kurt counters, like a reflex. A smile is quirking at his lips.
"It could work," Puck says. He shrugs.
Kurt's still looking at him, still half-smiling, and Puck doesn't even let himself think about what he does next.
He leans over and kisses the soft corner of Kurt's mouth, carefully, dryly. Kurt hums against his lips, and Puck feels his lashes brushing against his cheek when he closes his eyes. He slides his hand over Kurt's on wheel, holding it firmly, then buries his head into Kurt's neck and breathes in his McQueen scarf, and listens to the same familiar sound of his heart beating, more paced, now. "I," Puck starts, then he shakes his head, buries himself deeper and squeezes Kurt's hand in his own, the words dying in his throat.
Kurt snorts. He leans down to press a warm kiss to his cheek, smiling into the skin, then hovers his mouth over Puck's ear and says, quietly, "You're welcome."
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I loved this! So cute!! Thanks so much for filling!!
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Then comes first bars of Mr Cellophane; Puck listens to his voice, sweet and melodic, his heartbeat, the music; he feels the vibrations of Kurt's voice against his cheek, every stilted, trembling breath, a warm body against his own, and a dozen other lies.
Kurt hums against his lips, and Puck feels his lashes brushing against his cheek when he closes his eyes.
And these lines... ♥_♥
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I like the slow progression of their friendship, and that at the end they're still snarking at each other around the sweetness. ♥
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If this happened a year ago, Finn would undoubtedly be barging into his room freaking out and forgetting the number for an ambulance.
Surprise LOL! Oh, Finnocence.
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anm
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