(Put Me Back Together) Not So Blissfully Numb (17/?)
Title: Put Me Back Together
Part: Chapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Three and a half beers later, Kurt walked out of the kitchen door and down the driveway. He hadn’t locked the door behind him, but then again, Kurt didn’t really care either. All he knew was that after standing in the kitchen, draining bottle after bottle, he’d begun to feel increasingly entrapped. It wasn’t that Kurt had been claustrophobic, but as the acrid alcohol had filled his stomach and begun to course through his body, the house around him had seemed to grow smaller and smaller. And it had gotten to the point where he’d needed to get out, to escape.
But he’d had to stay there in the kitchen pouring the beer down his throat until he’d felt something, anything, because he hadn’t been about to quit until the alcohol had started doing its job. And if that meant he had to drink all six bottles, Kurt had been prepared to do it, no matter how terrible it tasted.
However, when Kurt had started on the fourth bottle, he’d felt the telltale buzzing begin to fill his head, giving everything an ever so slight blur around the edges. But that had been good enough for Kurt, because he had known that the mind-numbing haze he’d so desperately sought would soon follow.
So he’d placed the half-empty bottle on the table and all but ran out of his house, not caring about what he was leaving behind.
Once outside, Kurt allowed his feet to carry him down the driveway, the cool November air nipping at his cheeks and the beer working its way through his system.
And as Kurt walked away from his house, he didn’t bother to pay attention to where he was going. He was out of his too tiny kitchen, and that was all that mattered. So rather than let his thoughts wander, he focused on the feeling that was slowly beginning to course through his limbs. Much like whatever April had given him, the alcohol had affected his toes, fingertips, and head first, making him feel all tingly. But the sensation wasn’t enough. He wanted the sense of numbness that was supposed to come after.
However, the more he focused on it, the more sober he felt. And that only seemed to irritate Kurt more, because that was not the way things were supposed to be going.
“Come on.” Kurt stamped his foot, totally aware of just how childish that was. But the moment his white loafer-ed sole came in contact with the ground, he felt it, and he couldn’t have been happier.
All of a sudden, Kurt’s head was spinning, and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy and sluggish. And as he walked, Kurt felt like he was moving through quick sand. But unlike when he’d drank whatever April had given him, Kurt didn’t feel a rush of confidence.
Instead, he’d just felt tired and heavy, but the numbness he was looking for was coming. He could feel it.
So, ignoring the desire to sit down on the sidewalk, Kurt walked and walked, reveling in the sweet relief that was now flowing through his body. As he traveled to who knew where, he tried to keep himself from thinking, instead focusing on how his body felt.
But there was one lovely thought that did make it into his head: when Saturday rolled around, he was treating himself to a spa day. He needed it, and what’s more, he deserved it. And with that settled, Kurt forced his mind to clear once again.
Kurt didn’t know how long or how far he’d walked when he finally looked up and took stock of his (unfortunately familiar) surroundings.
He was surprised to find that he was near McKinley, walking along the far side of the football field. And even through his drunken haze, Kurt managed to recognize the irony in the fact that he’d unconsciously returned to one of the places he hated in the world. So kicking at a stone on the sidewalk, Kurt cursed the football field and everything it stood for, enjoying the release it gave him to get the feelings out. He might have been numb from the inside out, but seeing that particular pitch of land still managed to stir up a lot of animosity in him.
Without realizing it, Kurt turned and walked down the other side of the field. The ground beneath his feet was beginning to roll slightly, and his vision was beginning to blur around the edges. Kurt had known that he was buzzed from the fuzzy warmth that had spread through his body, but now he was totally drunk.
Now, all thoughts of Finn and Puck were gone, and all that was left was a nagging feeling of heartbreak swirling around in the pit of his stomach. It seemed to sit there and tug at his consciousness, but Kurt was able to ignore it. Rather, he chose to focus on a squirrel that was sitting in the grass. It was sitting on its hind legs, rubbing its front paws over its little face.
As Kurt drew nearer, it leaped away, but something seemed to be… off about the squirrel. Each bounding arc it took seemed to carry it higher and higher. And Kurt was sure that if a strong enough wind were to come up, the squirrel would be carried away with it.
But before that could happen, the carnivorous roar of a lion rumbled menacingly behind Kurt causing the impossibly weightless squirrel to fly up the nearest tree.
Kurt knew he should have been afraid of the noise, after all, there was a lion behind him. But a teeny, tiny part of his brain was telling him that that was ridiculous, that there couldn’t possibly be a lion skulking around McKinley High’s football field.
But even if there wasn’t a carnivorous beast behind Kurt, there was still something lurking there. And whatever it was, it was loud and angry. However, even though Kurt knew that he didn’t want to see the thing that was behind him, he wasn’t afraid. It seemed like, along with his feeling and pain, the beer had deadened his sense of fear and self-preservation as well.
And prepared to face what Kurt was pretty sure was his doom, he spun around, wavering a little from the force of the movement. When his eyes landed on Puck jogging towards him, his truck parked by the road instead of a lion, Kurt took a couple of unsteady steps backward. He stumbled over a rock, and as he tried to catch himself, Kurt’s world gave an uncomfortable shift. Somehow though, he managed to stay on his feet. But even though he did, it took every last drop of the coordination he still possessed for Kurt not to fall on his butt.
“Kurt!” Through his haze, Kurt was able to make out the anger and concern in Puck’s voice. And that sound caused the mad ball in the pit of Kurt’s stomach to pulse fiercely, because Puck didn’t have any right to be angry.
But before Kurt could run away or strike out or… anything, Puck’s strong hands were gripping his shoulders, holding him painfully in place.
As Puck’s fingers dug painfully into Kurt’s shoulders, Kurt tried to pull away, twisting his body in an effort to free himself. However, his attempts were useless. Puck was too strong, and Kurt was too drunk to really put up much of a fight. But still, he tried. “Let… Go…” Kurt’s words were low and dangerous, if slightly slurred. “Now.”
Puck, however, didn’t listen. Instead, he just leaned forward a little, looking directly into Kurt’s eyes. And even though Kurt’s world was spinning and changing colors faster than a tacky tie-dye t-shirt, Kurt could tell the other boy was searching for something.
Unwilling to give Puck anything he wanted, Kurt turned his head away and started out across the football field.
But Puck wasn’t about to let him escape that easily.
He released one of Kurt’s shoulders and used the now free hand to take hold of Kurt’s jaw. And as Puck turned his face back, it didn’t even occur to Kurt to protest. Against his cheek, Puck’s hand was so warm and sure. And as Puck slipped his hand over Kurt’s cheek, the calluses on his fingertips sent shivers down his spine.
At that moment, it would have been so easy for Kurt to lean forward and press his lips against Puck’s. But as the thought flitted through Kurt’s mind, the angry ball in his stomach expanded, filling his entire rib cage. The fierce surge of emotion was enough to soak through his alcohol-induced numbness, reminding him of just how angry he was.
“Dude, you’re totally wasted!” Puck sounded angry, but as far as Kurt was concerned, the other boy didn’t have any right to be upset. And because of that, Kurt wasn’t about to stand there being manhandled any longer. Especially after Puck had used one of Kurt’s least favorite words in the English language.
Fed up, Kurt began to struggle against Puck’s grip once again. And as he did, he hurled (what his alcohol-drenched brain was telling him was) a snappy retort at Puck. “Don’t… Call me…”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No dude. Got it.” Puck’s voice was full of sarcasm, and the more Kurt struggled, the tighter Puck held on. “Just chill, man. We need to-”
“Chill? Chill!” The words seemed to slide out of Kurt’s mouth, taking longer to pronounce than was really necessary. But if Kurt could understand himself, then he figured that Puck could as well. After all, Kurt was an excellent speaker who had no trouble expressing himself verbally.
Thoroughly worked up now, Kurt gave another pull, trying to free himself of Puck’s grip. The force of the movement caused the world to lurch around him and the contents of his stomach to flip upside down like a snow globe that had been shaken violently. And before he could try to contain it, a long moan escaped from Kurt’s lips. Not so much from nausea, but from realization.
The pleasant numbness was wearing off, and all of his pain and anger was about to come rushing back.
And Puck was going to be there when it happened.
The thought of Puck being near him, touching him, caused Kurt’s stomach to clench painfully. The whole point of getting drunk was to escape from all of the pain Finn and Puck (ok, mainly Puck) had caused him. But it seemed like the more he tried to escape from it, the more the pain held on.
Puck’s grip tightened on Kurt’s arm again, and it was beginning to feel like a vice. Kurt batted at it half-heartedly, trying to ignore the nausea that was quickly overtaking him. “Let go…”
“Come on.” Puck tugged a little on Kurt’s arm, attempting to pull him towards his beat up truck. “We gotta get you home.”
“No. I don’t… Let go…” Kurt was struggling against Puck, trying to dig his heels into the sidewalk. “Stop…” With each word, the acrid taste of bile began to rise up in the back of Kurt’s throat, and it was with great effort that he spoke at all. “Let…”
“Not gonna happen, Hummel.” Puck stepped forward and instantly, Kurt stepped back, wanting to be as far away from Puck as possible. But as he did, he stumbled over a branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. But unlike before, Kurt wasn’t able to catch himself, and if it hadn’t been for Puck, he would have dropped to the ground.
“Whoa…” Puck’s voice was calm, but he reached out with a speed and sureness that amazed Kurt. And the next thing he knew, Puck slid his arm around Kurt’s waist and was supporting him as he began to lead Kurt towards the truck.
Kurt didn’t try to protest or struggle like he had before, because it seemed pointless. He still hated the fact that Puck was there, touching him, but the steadily growing nausea in his stomach was all he could think about. And with each sluggish step they took, that feeling seemed to get worse and worse. “Just… I need to rest…”
“Nope. We’re almost there.” Puck tightened his arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling Kurt’s body closer to him. And even though Puck wouldn’t let him stop moving, being partially carried helped a lot. It was much easier to move with someone supporting most of his body weight.
But more than that… Kurt found that he was comfortable.
And that as mad as he was at Puck, he didn’t want him to let go.
Kurt couldn’t help but hate himself for that. But he just couldn’t help enjoying how it felt.
Puck’s body was so warm and, despite his muscular physique, soft that Kurt was pretty sure could melt right into Puck if he really tried. And unable to stop himself, Kurt let his head fall sideways so that it rested on Puck’s shoulder.
Puck didn’t say anything, but Kurt vaguely noticed that the hand around his waist clenched once, twice, before relaxing against his hip once again. And before Kurt realized what he was doing, he sighed in response. Even though Kurt knew that Puck was the root of all his problems, it just felt so good to be held by him.
Better than he cared to admit actually.
“Ok…” Puck’s voice pulled Kurt out of his reverie, and now that he was no longer focusing solely on the body pressed against his, the nausea came rushing back full force. Instinctively, Kurt turned his head, wanting to bury his face in Puck’s shoulder once again, but Puck was pulling away.
Kurt moaned in protest (and because of his rolling stomach), but Puck didn’t stop. Instead, he took Kurt by the shoulders again and turned him so they were standing face to face. And though his eyes were growing increasingly tired, Kurt could see that Puck was leaning forward, trying to lock their gazes together. But all Kurt wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep…
“Hummel!” Puck gave Kurt’s shoulders a small shake, and Kurt felt as if a tornado had just ripped through his stomach. “Hummel! Listen to me.”
“I’m lis…” Kurt’s voice trailed off as the acrid taste of bile began to creep up the back of his throat.
“You have got to promise me something.” Puck’s voice was hard and dangerous, and Kurt could tell that he was deadly serious.
“Wha…” The word died on Kurt’s tongue as his stomach clenched painfully. As soon as the pain subsided, Kurt tried again. “What?”
“You have to promise that you will not heave in my truck.” The hands on Kurt’s shoulders tightened as Puck tried to hold onto Kurt’s focus.
“I… I…” Kurt swallowed, trying to push down the growing nausea that was taking over his entire body. “Take me home. Pl… Please.”
Through his bleary gaze, Kurt could tell that Puck didn’t look totally convinced (or satisfied), but Puck nodded his head anyway.
“Come on…” Puck shifted his hold on Kurt’s body, slipping one arm around his ribs to support him. Kurt tried to stand on his own, but his knees were weak, and his legs were trembling. So he allowed himself to lean against Puck as Puck fished his keys out of his pocket.
When the passenger side door of the truck was open, Kurt didn’t protest as Puck all but lifted him into the cab. And after Puck helped him buckle his seat belt and close the door, Kurt leaned against it, his cheek pressing into the cool glass of the window.
If it hadn’t been for the vicious growl of the truck’s engine, Kurt was pretty sure that he could have fallen asleep right there. But the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him wouldn’t allow it. It was too loud, and the jarring movements of the truck tearing over the gravel kept him from being able to settle into the seat. (Kurt couldn’t help but think that his dad had been right, there was something wrong with Puck’s truck.) So Kurt crossed his arms over his nauseous stomach as he focused on the cool glass under his cheek. And focusing on the cool window, he tried not to notice how long it was taking to get home.
The drive from Kurt’s house to McKinley High was about ten minutes, fifteen on a bad day. But as Puck hit what Kurt was positive was every speed bump and pot hole in all of Ohio, he was pretty sure that Puck had taken some long route that he didn’t know about.
Kurt was just about to ask what was taking so long when the truck jerked again, causing his stomach to turn painfully. A soft moan escaped his lips, and Kurt didn’t bother trying to hold it back. His stomach hurt, and he felt sick, about as sick as he’d felt right before he’d puked all over Miss Pillsbury’s pumps to be exact.
“Come on, man. We’re almost there.” Puck sounded desperate, and Kurt felt the truck speed up under him. “And you promised -”
“Didn’t -” Kurt sucked in a deep breath as the truck swung around what must have been a corner. His eyes were still pressed shut, and Kurt was glad that they were. He didn’t think his stomach could have handled watching the trees and houses flying by outside the window.
“Did so.” Puck’s tone held no room for argument, and neither did the bile rising up in the back of Kurt’s throat. “Come on, Hummel. We’re here.”
The truck stopped running and Puck was out of it before Kurt could figure out what was going on. All he knew was that the door he was leaning against was being pulled open, and if it hadn’t been for Puck supporting him, Kurt would have fallen out and onto the ground. As it was, Kurt didn’t think he’d be able to get out of the truck on his own. “I…”
“Kurt!” Burt’s voice came booming down the driveway, his footsteps thundering along in his wake.
“Dad…” Kurt’s stomach clenched again, his face scrunching up in pain. With his eyes tightly shut, he took a few deep breaths in an effort to force the contents of his stomach to stay where they were.
When two strong hands wrapped around his knees and shoulders to pull him out of the truck, Kurt didn’t protest. Instead, he allowed himself to be picked up, relaxing into the arms around him. “Mr. Hummel, I didn’t -” Puck’s chest rumbled under Kurt’s ear as he spoke.
“I know, son.” Kurt could hear the mixture of emotion in his dad’s voice. There was fear, anger, anxiety, and worst of all… worry. Kurt wanted to tell him he was fine, but he couldn’t open his mouth for fear of vomiting. But when he felt his dad’s hand press against his forehead, Kurt felt a hot tear slide down his cheek. “Let’s get him inside…”
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- Important: After many, many setbacks, I’m back. FINALLY. (Now that I’ve said that though, watch something else happen, lol.)
- To everyone who has been following this story… THANK YOU. Your patience and you support is amazing.
- Quack: Without you, there would be no Squeeka. For serious.
- Also? I live for tie-dye everything.
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan
Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
Chapter 13: Pocket Squares
Chapter 14: All Apologies
Chapter 15: The “F” Word
Chapter 16: I’ve Come Undone
Part: Chapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Three and a half beers later, Kurt walked out of the kitchen door and down the driveway. He hadn’t locked the door behind him, but then again, Kurt didn’t really care either. All he knew was that after standing in the kitchen, draining bottle after bottle, he’d begun to feel increasingly entrapped. It wasn’t that Kurt had been claustrophobic, but as the acrid alcohol had filled his stomach and begun to course through his body, the house around him had seemed to grow smaller and smaller. And it had gotten to the point where he’d needed to get out, to escape.
But he’d had to stay there in the kitchen pouring the beer down his throat until he’d felt something, anything, because he hadn’t been about to quit until the alcohol had started doing its job. And if that meant he had to drink all six bottles, Kurt had been prepared to do it, no matter how terrible it tasted.
However, when Kurt had started on the fourth bottle, he’d felt the telltale buzzing begin to fill his head, giving everything an ever so slight blur around the edges. But that had been good enough for Kurt, because he had known that the mind-numbing haze he’d so desperately sought would soon follow.
So he’d placed the half-empty bottle on the table and all but ran out of his house, not caring about what he was leaving behind.
Once outside, Kurt allowed his feet to carry him down the driveway, the cool November air nipping at his cheeks and the beer working its way through his system.
And as Kurt walked away from his house, he didn’t bother to pay attention to where he was going. He was out of his too tiny kitchen, and that was all that mattered. So rather than let his thoughts wander, he focused on the feeling that was slowly beginning to course through his limbs. Much like whatever April had given him, the alcohol had affected his toes, fingertips, and head first, making him feel all tingly. But the sensation wasn’t enough. He wanted the sense of numbness that was supposed to come after.
However, the more he focused on it, the more sober he felt. And that only seemed to irritate Kurt more, because that was not the way things were supposed to be going.
“Come on.” Kurt stamped his foot, totally aware of just how childish that was. But the moment his white loafer-ed sole came in contact with the ground, he felt it, and he couldn’t have been happier.
All of a sudden, Kurt’s head was spinning, and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy and sluggish. And as he walked, Kurt felt like he was moving through quick sand. But unlike when he’d drank whatever April had given him, Kurt didn’t feel a rush of confidence.
Instead, he’d just felt tired and heavy, but the numbness he was looking for was coming. He could feel it.
So, ignoring the desire to sit down on the sidewalk, Kurt walked and walked, reveling in the sweet relief that was now flowing through his body. As he traveled to who knew where, he tried to keep himself from thinking, instead focusing on how his body felt.
But there was one lovely thought that did make it into his head: when Saturday rolled around, he was treating himself to a spa day. He needed it, and what’s more, he deserved it. And with that settled, Kurt forced his mind to clear once again.
Kurt didn’t know how long or how far he’d walked when he finally looked up and took stock of his (unfortunately familiar) surroundings.
He was surprised to find that he was near McKinley, walking along the far side of the football field. And even through his drunken haze, Kurt managed to recognize the irony in the fact that he’d unconsciously returned to one of the places he hated in the world. So kicking at a stone on the sidewalk, Kurt cursed the football field and everything it stood for, enjoying the release it gave him to get the feelings out. He might have been numb from the inside out, but seeing that particular pitch of land still managed to stir up a lot of animosity in him.
Without realizing it, Kurt turned and walked down the other side of the field. The ground beneath his feet was beginning to roll slightly, and his vision was beginning to blur around the edges. Kurt had known that he was buzzed from the fuzzy warmth that had spread through his body, but now he was totally drunk.
Now, all thoughts of Finn and Puck were gone, and all that was left was a nagging feeling of heartbreak swirling around in the pit of his stomach. It seemed to sit there and tug at his consciousness, but Kurt was able to ignore it. Rather, he chose to focus on a squirrel that was sitting in the grass. It was sitting on its hind legs, rubbing its front paws over its little face.
As Kurt drew nearer, it leaped away, but something seemed to be… off about the squirrel. Each bounding arc it took seemed to carry it higher and higher. And Kurt was sure that if a strong enough wind were to come up, the squirrel would be carried away with it.
But before that could happen, the carnivorous roar of a lion rumbled menacingly behind Kurt causing the impossibly weightless squirrel to fly up the nearest tree.
Kurt knew he should have been afraid of the noise, after all, there was a lion behind him. But a teeny, tiny part of his brain was telling him that that was ridiculous, that there couldn’t possibly be a lion skulking around McKinley High’s football field.
But even if there wasn’t a carnivorous beast behind Kurt, there was still something lurking there. And whatever it was, it was loud and angry. However, even though Kurt knew that he didn’t want to see the thing that was behind him, he wasn’t afraid. It seemed like, along with his feeling and pain, the beer had deadened his sense of fear and self-preservation as well.
And prepared to face what Kurt was pretty sure was his doom, he spun around, wavering a little from the force of the movement. When his eyes landed on Puck jogging towards him, his truck parked by the road instead of a lion, Kurt took a couple of unsteady steps backward. He stumbled over a rock, and as he tried to catch himself, Kurt’s world gave an uncomfortable shift. Somehow though, he managed to stay on his feet. But even though he did, it took every last drop of the coordination he still possessed for Kurt not to fall on his butt.
“Kurt!” Through his haze, Kurt was able to make out the anger and concern in Puck’s voice. And that sound caused the mad ball in the pit of Kurt’s stomach to pulse fiercely, because Puck didn’t have any right to be angry.
But before Kurt could run away or strike out or… anything, Puck’s strong hands were gripping his shoulders, holding him painfully in place.
As Puck’s fingers dug painfully into Kurt’s shoulders, Kurt tried to pull away, twisting his body in an effort to free himself. However, his attempts were useless. Puck was too strong, and Kurt was too drunk to really put up much of a fight. But still, he tried. “Let… Go…” Kurt’s words were low and dangerous, if slightly slurred. “Now.”
Puck, however, didn’t listen. Instead, he just leaned forward a little, looking directly into Kurt’s eyes. And even though Kurt’s world was spinning and changing colors faster than a tacky tie-dye t-shirt, Kurt could tell the other boy was searching for something.
Unwilling to give Puck anything he wanted, Kurt turned his head away and started out across the football field.
But Puck wasn’t about to let him escape that easily.
He released one of Kurt’s shoulders and used the now free hand to take hold of Kurt’s jaw. And as Puck turned his face back, it didn’t even occur to Kurt to protest. Against his cheek, Puck’s hand was so warm and sure. And as Puck slipped his hand over Kurt’s cheek, the calluses on his fingertips sent shivers down his spine.
At that moment, it would have been so easy for Kurt to lean forward and press his lips against Puck’s. But as the thought flitted through Kurt’s mind, the angry ball in his stomach expanded, filling his entire rib cage. The fierce surge of emotion was enough to soak through his alcohol-induced numbness, reminding him of just how angry he was.
“Dude, you’re totally wasted!” Puck sounded angry, but as far as Kurt was concerned, the other boy didn’t have any right to be upset. And because of that, Kurt wasn’t about to stand there being manhandled any longer. Especially after Puck had used one of Kurt’s least favorite words in the English language.
Fed up, Kurt began to struggle against Puck’s grip once again. And as he did, he hurled (what his alcohol-drenched brain was telling him was) a snappy retort at Puck. “Don’t… Call me…”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No dude. Got it.” Puck’s voice was full of sarcasm, and the more Kurt struggled, the tighter Puck held on. “Just chill, man. We need to-”
“Chill? Chill!” The words seemed to slide out of Kurt’s mouth, taking longer to pronounce than was really necessary. But if Kurt could understand himself, then he figured that Puck could as well. After all, Kurt was an excellent speaker who had no trouble expressing himself verbally.
Thoroughly worked up now, Kurt gave another pull, trying to free himself of Puck’s grip. The force of the movement caused the world to lurch around him and the contents of his stomach to flip upside down like a snow globe that had been shaken violently. And before he could try to contain it, a long moan escaped from Kurt’s lips. Not so much from nausea, but from realization.
The pleasant numbness was wearing off, and all of his pain and anger was about to come rushing back.
And Puck was going to be there when it happened.
The thought of Puck being near him, touching him, caused Kurt’s stomach to clench painfully. The whole point of getting drunk was to escape from all of the pain Finn and Puck (ok, mainly Puck) had caused him. But it seemed like the more he tried to escape from it, the more the pain held on.
Puck’s grip tightened on Kurt’s arm again, and it was beginning to feel like a vice. Kurt batted at it half-heartedly, trying to ignore the nausea that was quickly overtaking him. “Let go…”
“Come on.” Puck tugged a little on Kurt’s arm, attempting to pull him towards his beat up truck. “We gotta get you home.”
“No. I don’t… Let go…” Kurt was struggling against Puck, trying to dig his heels into the sidewalk. “Stop…” With each word, the acrid taste of bile began to rise up in the back of Kurt’s throat, and it was with great effort that he spoke at all. “Let…”
“Not gonna happen, Hummel.” Puck stepped forward and instantly, Kurt stepped back, wanting to be as far away from Puck as possible. But as he did, he stumbled over a branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. But unlike before, Kurt wasn’t able to catch himself, and if it hadn’t been for Puck, he would have dropped to the ground.
“Whoa…” Puck’s voice was calm, but he reached out with a speed and sureness that amazed Kurt. And the next thing he knew, Puck slid his arm around Kurt’s waist and was supporting him as he began to lead Kurt towards the truck.
Kurt didn’t try to protest or struggle like he had before, because it seemed pointless. He still hated the fact that Puck was there, touching him, but the steadily growing nausea in his stomach was all he could think about. And with each sluggish step they took, that feeling seemed to get worse and worse. “Just… I need to rest…”
“Nope. We’re almost there.” Puck tightened his arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling Kurt’s body closer to him. And even though Puck wouldn’t let him stop moving, being partially carried helped a lot. It was much easier to move with someone supporting most of his body weight.
But more than that… Kurt found that he was comfortable.
And that as mad as he was at Puck, he didn’t want him to let go.
Kurt couldn’t help but hate himself for that. But he just couldn’t help enjoying how it felt.
Puck’s body was so warm and, despite his muscular physique, soft that Kurt was pretty sure could melt right into Puck if he really tried. And unable to stop himself, Kurt let his head fall sideways so that it rested on Puck’s shoulder.
Puck didn’t say anything, but Kurt vaguely noticed that the hand around his waist clenched once, twice, before relaxing against his hip once again. And before Kurt realized what he was doing, he sighed in response. Even though Kurt knew that Puck was the root of all his problems, it just felt so good to be held by him.
Better than he cared to admit actually.
“Ok…” Puck’s voice pulled Kurt out of his reverie, and now that he was no longer focusing solely on the body pressed against his, the nausea came rushing back full force. Instinctively, Kurt turned his head, wanting to bury his face in Puck’s shoulder once again, but Puck was pulling away.
Kurt moaned in protest (and because of his rolling stomach), but Puck didn’t stop. Instead, he took Kurt by the shoulders again and turned him so they were standing face to face. And though his eyes were growing increasingly tired, Kurt could see that Puck was leaning forward, trying to lock their gazes together. But all Kurt wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep…
“Hummel!” Puck gave Kurt’s shoulders a small shake, and Kurt felt as if a tornado had just ripped through his stomach. “Hummel! Listen to me.”
“I’m lis…” Kurt’s voice trailed off as the acrid taste of bile began to creep up the back of his throat.
“You have got to promise me something.” Puck’s voice was hard and dangerous, and Kurt could tell that he was deadly serious.
“Wha…” The word died on Kurt’s tongue as his stomach clenched painfully. As soon as the pain subsided, Kurt tried again. “What?”
“You have to promise that you will not heave in my truck.” The hands on Kurt’s shoulders tightened as Puck tried to hold onto Kurt’s focus.
“I… I…” Kurt swallowed, trying to push down the growing nausea that was taking over his entire body. “Take me home. Pl… Please.”
Through his bleary gaze, Kurt could tell that Puck didn’t look totally convinced (or satisfied), but Puck nodded his head anyway.
“Come on…” Puck shifted his hold on Kurt’s body, slipping one arm around his ribs to support him. Kurt tried to stand on his own, but his knees were weak, and his legs were trembling. So he allowed himself to lean against Puck as Puck fished his keys out of his pocket.
When the passenger side door of the truck was open, Kurt didn’t protest as Puck all but lifted him into the cab. And after Puck helped him buckle his seat belt and close the door, Kurt leaned against it, his cheek pressing into the cool glass of the window.
If it hadn’t been for the vicious growl of the truck’s engine, Kurt was pretty sure that he could have fallen asleep right there. But the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him wouldn’t allow it. It was too loud, and the jarring movements of the truck tearing over the gravel kept him from being able to settle into the seat. (Kurt couldn’t help but think that his dad had been right, there was something wrong with Puck’s truck.) So Kurt crossed his arms over his nauseous stomach as he focused on the cool glass under his cheek. And focusing on the cool window, he tried not to notice how long it was taking to get home.
The drive from Kurt’s house to McKinley High was about ten minutes, fifteen on a bad day. But as Puck hit what Kurt was positive was every speed bump and pot hole in all of Ohio, he was pretty sure that Puck had taken some long route that he didn’t know about.
Kurt was just about to ask what was taking so long when the truck jerked again, causing his stomach to turn painfully. A soft moan escaped his lips, and Kurt didn’t bother trying to hold it back. His stomach hurt, and he felt sick, about as sick as he’d felt right before he’d puked all over Miss Pillsbury’s pumps to be exact.
“Come on, man. We’re almost there.” Puck sounded desperate, and Kurt felt the truck speed up under him. “And you promised -”
“Didn’t -” Kurt sucked in a deep breath as the truck swung around what must have been a corner. His eyes were still pressed shut, and Kurt was glad that they were. He didn’t think his stomach could have handled watching the trees and houses flying by outside the window.
“Did so.” Puck’s tone held no room for argument, and neither did the bile rising up in the back of Kurt’s throat. “Come on, Hummel. We’re here.”
The truck stopped running and Puck was out of it before Kurt could figure out what was going on. All he knew was that the door he was leaning against was being pulled open, and if it hadn’t been for Puck supporting him, Kurt would have fallen out and onto the ground. As it was, Kurt didn’t think he’d be able to get out of the truck on his own. “I…”
“Kurt!” Burt’s voice came booming down the driveway, his footsteps thundering along in his wake.
“Dad…” Kurt’s stomach clenched again, his face scrunching up in pain. With his eyes tightly shut, he took a few deep breaths in an effort to force the contents of his stomach to stay where they were.
When two strong hands wrapped around his knees and shoulders to pull him out of the truck, Kurt didn’t protest. Instead, he allowed himself to be picked up, relaxing into the arms around him. “Mr. Hummel, I didn’t -” Puck’s chest rumbled under Kurt’s ear as he spoke.
“I know, son.” Kurt could hear the mixture of emotion in his dad’s voice. There was fear, anger, anxiety, and worst of all… worry. Kurt wanted to tell him he was fine, but he couldn’t open his mouth for fear of vomiting. But when he felt his dad’s hand press against his forehead, Kurt felt a hot tear slide down his cheek. “Let’s get him inside…”
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- Important: After many, many setbacks, I’m back. FINALLY. (Now that I’ve said that though, watch something else happen, lol.)
- To everyone who has been following this story… THANK YOU. Your patience and you support is amazing.
- Quack: Without you, there would be no Squeeka. For serious.
- Also? I live for tie-dye everything.
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan
Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
Chapter 13: Pocket Squares
Chapter 14: All Apologies
Chapter 15: The “F” Word
Chapter 16: I’ve Come Undone