(Put Me Back Together) Comfort Food (27/?)
Title: Put Me Back Together
Part: Chapter 27: Comfort Food
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 S. Pierce, 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 27: Comfort Food
By the time Kurt made his way back upstairs, it was thirteen after seven.
He’d tried to make it in time, but given the fact that he’d had to shave, shower, dress, and primp…
It just hadn’t been possible.
To make matters worse, when he’d rushed into the living room, harried and out of breath, he was met by the sight of Puck and Burt talking. And even though they were both smiling, Kurt felt angry. It wasn’t that Kurt had anything against them talking. In fact, he was tickled pink by the thought of them getting along. (He was pretty sure that he would die of embarrassment if his dad were to decide that he wanted to borrow Uncle Mike’s shotgun in response to meeting Puck.)
No, Kurt was upset not only because he was late, but because he’d wanted to open the door when Puck arrived. He’d wanted to see Puck standing there on his doorstep, and he’d wanted to say hello and just maybe… kiss him on the cheek or something like that. But because he’d been late, Kurt had missed out on all of that.
However, even though Kurt was disappointed over not getting the chance to greet Puck, he couldn’t let that set the tone for the evening. Because if he did, Kurt knew the evening was sure to be a disaster (which was not acceptable).
Walking into the room, he ran his hands over the soft knit of the sapphire blue sweater he’d chosen to wear. He’d bought it online a few weeks ago, and it had just arrived the other day. (It would have come sooner, but given the price of the garment, he’d had to settle for the cheapest shipping option.) It had a v-neck that showed off the collar and top few buttons of the black shirt underneath it. And even though his wardrobe choices for the night were simple and understated, they were absolutely perfect.
Proud of his ensemble, Kurt slid his hands over the material again. Underneath his palms, the sweater was soft and fuzzy, and the feel of it soothed his nerves a bit. But before Kurt had a chance to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, Burt and Puck turned to look at him.
The moment Puck’s deep brown eyes fell on him, Kurt froze in his spot, his hands still gripping the hem of his sweater.
For a second, he stood there, caught like a deer in headlights. Feeling trapped and unable to move, Kurt watched as Burt folded his arms over his chest. There was a small smile on his dad’s face that Kurt could only interpret as pride.
But Puck…
Puck was another story altogether.
His eyes had widened a touch in surprise as he caught sight of Kurt. The flash of shock, however, quickly disappeared. But even though it was gone, Puck took his time scanning Kurt from head to toe.
The appraisal caused the back of Kurt’s neck to burn white hot. But despite the fact that he was embarrassed by the attention, Kurt didn’t feel self-conscious at all. In fact, he loved the feeling that Puck’s look of approval filled him with.
“Hey there, son.” Burt looked directly at Kurt. Whether or not Burt could sense that Puck was staring at Kurt, Kurt didn’t know. But deep down, he really hoped that his dad couldn’t see the look on Puck’s face. It wasn’t that it was vulgar or anything like that. It was just so… private. “Noah was just telling me that he’s the running back on the football team with you.”
“Oh.” Honestly, Kurt couldn’t have cared less what position Puck played on the football team. But his dad seemed to be impressed, so Kurt smiled and nodded as he walked over to stand next to them.
“Yeah.” Burt dropped his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “He says that he scor-”
“What’s that?” Kurt pointed at a brown square box that he’d just noticed in Puck’s hands. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he could feel the conversation turning in a direction that was beginning to drain his excitement. Tonight was supposed to be about… well, Kurt didn’t really know what it was supposed to be about. But he did know that it wasn’t going to be about football (or any other sport for that matter).
“Oh… Uh…” Puck looked down at the box in his hands. When he looked back up, Kurt noticed a slight tinge of embarrassment on his face. “I brought pie.” He shrugged a little. “My mom made me bring something. She gave me five bucks for dessert when I told her I was -”
“Well, that’s real nice.” Burt quickly cut through Puck’s rambling, for which Kurt couldn’t have been more thankful. And from the look on Puck’s face, Kurt could tell that he was just as relieved at not having to say anything else.
“Here…” Kurt stepped forward and held out his hands. “Let me take that into the kitchen.”
When Puck held out the pie, Kurt felt a tiny surge of daring fill him.
As he put his hands under the box, Kurt placed his fingers over Puck’s, letting them linger. The touch was soft and gentle, nothing more than skin brushing against skin. But it still left him reeling and ever so slightly embarrassed.
And even though Kurt really wanted to make eye contact with Puck as their hands touched, he just couldn’t do it. So as he pulled the box out of Puck’s grasp, Kurt dropped his eyes to the lettering on the lid. It read, “Carmel Apple Pie,” and though it was from Wal-Mart (and definitely not organic), the caramel-drizzled streusel topping looked delicious.
Under the box, Puck slid a couple of his fingers out from beneath Kurt’s. At first, Kurt was worried that Puck didn’t want to be touched by him. But before he could completely pull away, Puck wrapped his fingers over Kurt’s. While they touched, Puck didn’t try to stop him from pulling the pie away. Instead, he waited patiently as Kurt took the pastry from him.
As he did, Kurt kept his eyes on the swirls of caramel, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The embarrassment from a moment ago was gone, and Kurt raised his head ever so slightly. From under the curtain of his eye lashes, Kurt could see Puck smiling at him warmly. The look, so sweet that Kurt could barely believe it was Puck, encouraged him to lift his head the rest of the way.
But when he did, Kurt found his dad staring at him, a slightly confused expression on his face.
If Burt had caught onto what was going on beneath the box, Kurt couldn’t tell. And he wasn’t eager to find out. So before his dad could catch on, Kurt pulled the box the rest of the way towards himself. Across from him, Puck let his hands fall to his sides, but he didn’t stop smiling. “Why don’t…” Kurt pressed his lips together in an effort to suppress a smile. “Why don’t you two go into the dining room while I take this…”
“Sounds good to me.” Burt smiled at Kurt, as if he was trying to encourage him somehow. “Noah?”
“Uh, yeah.” Puck tore his eyes away from Kurt to look over at Burt. If he was nervous, he was hiding it really well. But even if Puck was, Kurt didn’t really mind. All he knew was that Puck was standing in his living room with him and his dad. It was such a surreal scene that Kurt was half-tempted to pinch himself.
Suddenly at a loss for something to say, Kurt held up the pie box as if showing it to them. “Well then…” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Kurt wished he could take them back. It wasn’t that what he’d said was embarrassing; it was just that both his dad and Puck were staring at him as the words hung in the air. And rather than try to come up with something else, Kurt turned on his heel and all but ran into the kitchen.
The second he was safely out of the living room, Kurt placed the pie on the countertop. Just as soon as his hands were free, Kurt gripped the edge of surface, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Everything was going fine, but there was so much potential for disaster that Kurt couldn’t help but be nervous.
Pushing himself away from the countertop, Kurt smoothed out the soft fabric of his sweater once again. It wasn’t that the material was rumpled or anything like that. Kurt was simply trying to calm himself again. Unfortunately though, it wasn’t really helping this time. And as Kurt stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling as if the world was spinning like a tilt-a-whirl around him, he realized something…
He probably wouldn’t be able to calm down until Puck said goodnight.
He was going to be a nervous, fidgety, worried mess until Puck walked out the front door.
So, resigning himself to a night of nerves, Kurt spun towards the stove, looking for something to take back into the dining room. But, much to his surprise, there was nothing left.
Sure… The spaghetti pot was sitting in the sink and the chopping board was still dotted with drying tomato seeds. But all of the food, including the breadsticks he’d been warming in the oven, was gone.
Feeling confused, Kurt pushed his way through the kitchen door again and walked into the dining room. When he saw his dad and Puck seated at a perfectly set table (complete with fresh parmesan and the dried Kraft kind), Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise.
He owed his dad and Mercedes. Big time.
“What took you so long?” Burt was sitting with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped above one of the plates Mercedes had laid out earlier.
“I was looking for…” Kurt walked towards the round dining room table, taking note of how the chairs were placed. There wasn’t a real “head” to the table, but if there was, Burt would have been sitting at it. To his right, there was an empty seat, and then to the right of that was Puck.
Burt looked over the table before looking back at Kurt. “I think everything’s here.”
Kurt couldn’t help but notice that his dad hadn’t mentioned just exactly who had set the table. It was a fact that Kurt was extremely grateful for. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Puck to know he’d had help. He just didn’t know how Puck would feel about Mercedes knowing about their little dinner date.
“I think you’re right.” Kurt pulled out the empty chair and took a seat. Puck didn’t jump up to help him, but then again, Kurt hadn’t expected him to. But even though Puck hadn’t budged from his chair, Kurt could feel the other boy staring at him. The sensation caused Kurt to turn his head just enough to catch sight of Puck out of the corner of his eyes. Through his lashes he could see Puck looking at him and smiling slightly. The sight caused the corners of his mouth to twitch, and thought he tried to fight it, Kurt smiled softly.
“So, who wants spaghetti?” Burt’s voice sounded light, but Kurt could sense the slightest trace of strain in it. Oddly enough though, that didn’t bother Kurt. Instead, it reaffirmed how hard his dad was trying. Kurt was so touched that he couldn’t even bring himself to tell his dad that it was pasta and not spaghetti.
Not saying anything, Kurt reached out and took the cream-colored dish out of his dad’s hands. As he did, he noticed that there was already a heaping mound of pasta on his plate.
For some strange reason, the sight caused him to relax a bit. Hoping that the sense of calm lasted, Kurt turned to Puck and offered him the serving spoon. “Umh, here…” As Puck pulled the utensil out of the tendrils of noodles, Kurt felt his nerves return ten-fold.
While Puck continued to load his plate with ladle after ladle of the food Kurt had made, Kurt felt his hands begin to shake. What if he hadn’t cooked the pasta long enough? Or what if he’d cooked it too long and it was all mushy? And that was to say nothing of the sauce…
“Kurt, you have outdone yourself.” Burt sounded sincere, and Kurt couldn’t help but turn to look at him. Puck was still digging in the pasta dish, but Kurt didn’t care. He needed to see his father. “It’s just like your mom used to make.” Burt lifted a forkful of pasta to his mouth and inhaled deeply before putting it into his mouth.
Kurt wanted to say thank you, but his breath hitched painfully when he opened his mouth. Unable to speak, he nodded a little and forced out what he hoped was a smile. His dad had given him compliments on his cooking before, but never had it touched Kurt so deeply.
“Umh, I’m done.” Next to him, Puck sounded a little unsure, almost as if he felt out of place. The lack of confidence pulled Kurt’s attention away from his dad so much that he couldn’t help but look at Puck. When he did, Kurt was surprised to find Puck staring at him intently. But before he could say anything, Puck was pulling the (significantly lighter) dish out of his hands. “Here…”
Kurt smiled warmly at Puck as he held the pasta out to him, and taking hold of the ladle, he twisted it in the noodles. He was just about to scoop them onto his plate when he heard his dad say…
“No garlic bread?” Burt sounded a little disappointed.
“I, umh…” Kurt could feel his ears begin to burn red hot as he remembered Mercedes’ warning. “They were… they were out.” Next to him, Puck was pressing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. For a moment, Kurt thought about kicking him underneath the table but changed his mind when he thought about the casserole dish Puck was holding.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Burt still sounded disappointed, but Kurt couldn’t help it. He was not about to have garlic breath around Noah Puckerman. “I’ll just have to make do with what you got.”
Kurt tried to think of something to say, but he came up with nothing more than a mumbled “sorry” as he ladled the pasta onto his plate. On his plate, the scoop of noodles looked so small (compared to what looked like four or five helpings on Puck and his dad’s plates). So he took one more spoonful before telling Puck he could set the dish down.
For the next few minutes, they were all silent as they grabbed rolls or parmesan cheese. (When Puck took the shaker of Kraft cheese from Burt, rather than use the freshly shaved option, Kurt rolled his eyes.) Kurt was just about to raise his fork to his mouth when Puck spoke.
“Wow, that is good.” His voice was muffled, and there was a small dot of sauce on his chin. And from the surprised look on his face, Puck was shocked at what he tasted.
Kurt’s first instinct was to make some snappy retort about Puck underestimating his cooking skills. But when Puck wiped at his face with a napkin and smiled at him, the desire died away. All that was left was a small, pleased, “Thank you.”
“Kurt here won’t admit it, but he can cook.” The pride was evident in Burt’s voice, and Kurt turned to look at him. “He makes the best mushroom and swiss burgers you’ll ever taste.” Kurt smiled, remembering last year’s Fourth of July cookout where he’d taken over the grill. At first, Uncle Mike hadn’t been happy. But when he’d tasted the burgers, his uncle had begged him for the recipe (which Kurt still refused to hand over).
“Wait…” Puck sounded shocked and slightly offended, which caused Kurt’s head to whip around in surprise. “You can make awesome burgers, but you chose to make spaghetti instead?”
At his words, Kurt was tempted to stab his fork into the plate of pasta in front of him. But after a nice deep breath and a pitch-perfect dirty look, he managed not too. Because, to be fair, not all of his irritation was aimed at Puck. Some of it was for Mercedes. Which, ok, he knew wasn’t really fair to her.
But still.
It had to go somewhere, and Kurt wasn’t about to feel bad for not making something that could be picked up for a dollar at a drive-through. And sure, his burgers were way better than anything a fast food joint could come up with.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that Kurt was not about to serve something so… common the first time he had a boy over for dinner.
Rather than try to defend his decision, Kurt said, quite simply, “Yes, Noah. I did,” before sticking his fork in his mouth. Through his irritation, Kurt couldn’t help but notice that his dad was right. The pasta sauce had turned out much better than the last time he’d made it.
As Kurt chewed, Puck stared at him as if he had something to say on the topic of burgers versus pasta. But before he could say anything, Burt burst out laughing. “Next time, I’ll make sure he makes hamburgers.”
The first thing that popped into Kurt’s head was, “Next time?” Because, until then, he hadn’t really thought about what was going to happen after Puck left for the night. Really, up till that second, everything seemed to ride on this dinner and how (or if) they got through it. And now that that wasn’t the case, Kurt found himself staring at Puck, desperate for an answer.
“Sounds good to me.” Puck stuck another forkful of the pasta into his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at Kurt.
Though he was still a little grumpy about the whole thing, Kurt couldn’t help but smile a little. The reaction was part anticipation and part relief. But no matter what it was, it caused Puck to smile back at him softly. “Fine. Next time I’ll make burgers.”
“Good. Now that that’s settled…” Burt was sprinkling some more of the parmesan cheese on his dinner as Kurt looked at him. “How’s your mother, Noah?”
From behind him, Kurt could hear Puck stutter a little before he said, “Uh, good. She just threw a candle party on Friday.”
Even though Puck was still speaking, Kurt continued to look at his dad. It was such an odd question. Polite? Maybe. But it was odd given the fact that, as far as Kurt knew, his dad didn’t know Puck’s mother. “Do you two know each other?”
“You could say that.” Burt lifted another forkful of food to his mouth and chewed. By the time he swallowed, Kurt was practically dying of curiosity. And that was to say nothing of how Puck must have been feeling. “We dated a little in high school.”
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.
- Thank you all for the continued support. I appreciate it more than I can say. :)
- Quack: You amaze me. I’m so glad you’re my beta.
- P.S. Wal-Mart does sell Carmel Appel Pies (which happen to be amazing) for $3.98 now. Last winter they were $4.98. :P
- 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
Chapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Chapter 18: Drunken Lullabies
Chapter 19: Unwanted Visitor
Chapter 20: Please
Chapter 21: Free For All
Chapter 22: Raditude
Chapter 23: Like Father
Chapter 24: What Other Reason
Chapter 25: Hummel Tires and Lube
Chapter 26: Nice To Meet You
Part: Chapter 27: Comfort Food
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 S. Pierce, 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 27: Comfort Food
By the time Kurt made his way back upstairs, it was thirteen after seven.
He’d tried to make it in time, but given the fact that he’d had to shave, shower, dress, and primp…
It just hadn’t been possible.
To make matters worse, when he’d rushed into the living room, harried and out of breath, he was met by the sight of Puck and Burt talking. And even though they were both smiling, Kurt felt angry. It wasn’t that Kurt had anything against them talking. In fact, he was tickled pink by the thought of them getting along. (He was pretty sure that he would die of embarrassment if his dad were to decide that he wanted to borrow Uncle Mike’s shotgun in response to meeting Puck.)
No, Kurt was upset not only because he was late, but because he’d wanted to open the door when Puck arrived. He’d wanted to see Puck standing there on his doorstep, and he’d wanted to say hello and just maybe… kiss him on the cheek or something like that. But because he’d been late, Kurt had missed out on all of that.
However, even though Kurt was disappointed over not getting the chance to greet Puck, he couldn’t let that set the tone for the evening. Because if he did, Kurt knew the evening was sure to be a disaster (which was not acceptable).
Walking into the room, he ran his hands over the soft knit of the sapphire blue sweater he’d chosen to wear. He’d bought it online a few weeks ago, and it had just arrived the other day. (It would have come sooner, but given the price of the garment, he’d had to settle for the cheapest shipping option.) It had a v-neck that showed off the collar and top few buttons of the black shirt underneath it. And even though his wardrobe choices for the night were simple and understated, they were absolutely perfect.
Proud of his ensemble, Kurt slid his hands over the material again. Underneath his palms, the sweater was soft and fuzzy, and the feel of it soothed his nerves a bit. But before Kurt had a chance to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, Burt and Puck turned to look at him.
The moment Puck’s deep brown eyes fell on him, Kurt froze in his spot, his hands still gripping the hem of his sweater.
For a second, he stood there, caught like a deer in headlights. Feeling trapped and unable to move, Kurt watched as Burt folded his arms over his chest. There was a small smile on his dad’s face that Kurt could only interpret as pride.
But Puck…
Puck was another story altogether.
His eyes had widened a touch in surprise as he caught sight of Kurt. The flash of shock, however, quickly disappeared. But even though it was gone, Puck took his time scanning Kurt from head to toe.
The appraisal caused the back of Kurt’s neck to burn white hot. But despite the fact that he was embarrassed by the attention, Kurt didn’t feel self-conscious at all. In fact, he loved the feeling that Puck’s look of approval filled him with.
“Hey there, son.” Burt looked directly at Kurt. Whether or not Burt could sense that Puck was staring at Kurt, Kurt didn’t know. But deep down, he really hoped that his dad couldn’t see the look on Puck’s face. It wasn’t that it was vulgar or anything like that. It was just so… private. “Noah was just telling me that he’s the running back on the football team with you.”
“Oh.” Honestly, Kurt couldn’t have cared less what position Puck played on the football team. But his dad seemed to be impressed, so Kurt smiled and nodded as he walked over to stand next to them.
“Yeah.” Burt dropped his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “He says that he scor-”
“What’s that?” Kurt pointed at a brown square box that he’d just noticed in Puck’s hands. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he could feel the conversation turning in a direction that was beginning to drain his excitement. Tonight was supposed to be about… well, Kurt didn’t really know what it was supposed to be about. But he did know that it wasn’t going to be about football (or any other sport for that matter).
“Oh… Uh…” Puck looked down at the box in his hands. When he looked back up, Kurt noticed a slight tinge of embarrassment on his face. “I brought pie.” He shrugged a little. “My mom made me bring something. She gave me five bucks for dessert when I told her I was -”
“Well, that’s real nice.” Burt quickly cut through Puck’s rambling, for which Kurt couldn’t have been more thankful. And from the look on Puck’s face, Kurt could tell that he was just as relieved at not having to say anything else.
“Here…” Kurt stepped forward and held out his hands. “Let me take that into the kitchen.”
When Puck held out the pie, Kurt felt a tiny surge of daring fill him.
As he put his hands under the box, Kurt placed his fingers over Puck’s, letting them linger. The touch was soft and gentle, nothing more than skin brushing against skin. But it still left him reeling and ever so slightly embarrassed.
And even though Kurt really wanted to make eye contact with Puck as their hands touched, he just couldn’t do it. So as he pulled the box out of Puck’s grasp, Kurt dropped his eyes to the lettering on the lid. It read, “Carmel Apple Pie,” and though it was from Wal-Mart (and definitely not organic), the caramel-drizzled streusel topping looked delicious.
Under the box, Puck slid a couple of his fingers out from beneath Kurt’s. At first, Kurt was worried that Puck didn’t want to be touched by him. But before he could completely pull away, Puck wrapped his fingers over Kurt’s. While they touched, Puck didn’t try to stop him from pulling the pie away. Instead, he waited patiently as Kurt took the pastry from him.
As he did, Kurt kept his eyes on the swirls of caramel, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The embarrassment from a moment ago was gone, and Kurt raised his head ever so slightly. From under the curtain of his eye lashes, Kurt could see Puck smiling at him warmly. The look, so sweet that Kurt could barely believe it was Puck, encouraged him to lift his head the rest of the way.
But when he did, Kurt found his dad staring at him, a slightly confused expression on his face.
If Burt had caught onto what was going on beneath the box, Kurt couldn’t tell. And he wasn’t eager to find out. So before his dad could catch on, Kurt pulled the box the rest of the way towards himself. Across from him, Puck let his hands fall to his sides, but he didn’t stop smiling. “Why don’t…” Kurt pressed his lips together in an effort to suppress a smile. “Why don’t you two go into the dining room while I take this…”
“Sounds good to me.” Burt smiled at Kurt, as if he was trying to encourage him somehow. “Noah?”
“Uh, yeah.” Puck tore his eyes away from Kurt to look over at Burt. If he was nervous, he was hiding it really well. But even if Puck was, Kurt didn’t really mind. All he knew was that Puck was standing in his living room with him and his dad. It was such a surreal scene that Kurt was half-tempted to pinch himself.
Suddenly at a loss for something to say, Kurt held up the pie box as if showing it to them. “Well then…” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Kurt wished he could take them back. It wasn’t that what he’d said was embarrassing; it was just that both his dad and Puck were staring at him as the words hung in the air. And rather than try to come up with something else, Kurt turned on his heel and all but ran into the kitchen.
The second he was safely out of the living room, Kurt placed the pie on the countertop. Just as soon as his hands were free, Kurt gripped the edge of surface, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Everything was going fine, but there was so much potential for disaster that Kurt couldn’t help but be nervous.
Pushing himself away from the countertop, Kurt smoothed out the soft fabric of his sweater once again. It wasn’t that the material was rumpled or anything like that. Kurt was simply trying to calm himself again. Unfortunately though, it wasn’t really helping this time. And as Kurt stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling as if the world was spinning like a tilt-a-whirl around him, he realized something…
He probably wouldn’t be able to calm down until Puck said goodnight.
He was going to be a nervous, fidgety, worried mess until Puck walked out the front door.
So, resigning himself to a night of nerves, Kurt spun towards the stove, looking for something to take back into the dining room. But, much to his surprise, there was nothing left.
Sure… The spaghetti pot was sitting in the sink and the chopping board was still dotted with drying tomato seeds. But all of the food, including the breadsticks he’d been warming in the oven, was gone.
Feeling confused, Kurt pushed his way through the kitchen door again and walked into the dining room. When he saw his dad and Puck seated at a perfectly set table (complete with fresh parmesan and the dried Kraft kind), Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise.
He owed his dad and Mercedes. Big time.
“What took you so long?” Burt was sitting with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped above one of the plates Mercedes had laid out earlier.
“I was looking for…” Kurt walked towards the round dining room table, taking note of how the chairs were placed. There wasn’t a real “head” to the table, but if there was, Burt would have been sitting at it. To his right, there was an empty seat, and then to the right of that was Puck.
Burt looked over the table before looking back at Kurt. “I think everything’s here.”
Kurt couldn’t help but notice that his dad hadn’t mentioned just exactly who had set the table. It was a fact that Kurt was extremely grateful for. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Puck to know he’d had help. He just didn’t know how Puck would feel about Mercedes knowing about their little dinner date.
“I think you’re right.” Kurt pulled out the empty chair and took a seat. Puck didn’t jump up to help him, but then again, Kurt hadn’t expected him to. But even though Puck hadn’t budged from his chair, Kurt could feel the other boy staring at him. The sensation caused Kurt to turn his head just enough to catch sight of Puck out of the corner of his eyes. Through his lashes he could see Puck looking at him and smiling slightly. The sight caused the corners of his mouth to twitch, and thought he tried to fight it, Kurt smiled softly.
“So, who wants spaghetti?” Burt’s voice sounded light, but Kurt could sense the slightest trace of strain in it. Oddly enough though, that didn’t bother Kurt. Instead, it reaffirmed how hard his dad was trying. Kurt was so touched that he couldn’t even bring himself to tell his dad that it was pasta and not spaghetti.
Not saying anything, Kurt reached out and took the cream-colored dish out of his dad’s hands. As he did, he noticed that there was already a heaping mound of pasta on his plate.
For some strange reason, the sight caused him to relax a bit. Hoping that the sense of calm lasted, Kurt turned to Puck and offered him the serving spoon. “Umh, here…” As Puck pulled the utensil out of the tendrils of noodles, Kurt felt his nerves return ten-fold.
While Puck continued to load his plate with ladle after ladle of the food Kurt had made, Kurt felt his hands begin to shake. What if he hadn’t cooked the pasta long enough? Or what if he’d cooked it too long and it was all mushy? And that was to say nothing of the sauce…
“Kurt, you have outdone yourself.” Burt sounded sincere, and Kurt couldn’t help but turn to look at him. Puck was still digging in the pasta dish, but Kurt didn’t care. He needed to see his father. “It’s just like your mom used to make.” Burt lifted a forkful of pasta to his mouth and inhaled deeply before putting it into his mouth.
Kurt wanted to say thank you, but his breath hitched painfully when he opened his mouth. Unable to speak, he nodded a little and forced out what he hoped was a smile. His dad had given him compliments on his cooking before, but never had it touched Kurt so deeply.
“Umh, I’m done.” Next to him, Puck sounded a little unsure, almost as if he felt out of place. The lack of confidence pulled Kurt’s attention away from his dad so much that he couldn’t help but look at Puck. When he did, Kurt was surprised to find Puck staring at him intently. But before he could say anything, Puck was pulling the (significantly lighter) dish out of his hands. “Here…”
Kurt smiled warmly at Puck as he held the pasta out to him, and taking hold of the ladle, he twisted it in the noodles. He was just about to scoop them onto his plate when he heard his dad say…
“No garlic bread?” Burt sounded a little disappointed.
“I, umh…” Kurt could feel his ears begin to burn red hot as he remembered Mercedes’ warning. “They were… they were out.” Next to him, Puck was pressing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. For a moment, Kurt thought about kicking him underneath the table but changed his mind when he thought about the casserole dish Puck was holding.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Burt still sounded disappointed, but Kurt couldn’t help it. He was not about to have garlic breath around Noah Puckerman. “I’ll just have to make do with what you got.”
Kurt tried to think of something to say, but he came up with nothing more than a mumbled “sorry” as he ladled the pasta onto his plate. On his plate, the scoop of noodles looked so small (compared to what looked like four or five helpings on Puck and his dad’s plates). So he took one more spoonful before telling Puck he could set the dish down.
For the next few minutes, they were all silent as they grabbed rolls or parmesan cheese. (When Puck took the shaker of Kraft cheese from Burt, rather than use the freshly shaved option, Kurt rolled his eyes.) Kurt was just about to raise his fork to his mouth when Puck spoke.
“Wow, that is good.” His voice was muffled, and there was a small dot of sauce on his chin. And from the surprised look on his face, Puck was shocked at what he tasted.
Kurt’s first instinct was to make some snappy retort about Puck underestimating his cooking skills. But when Puck wiped at his face with a napkin and smiled at him, the desire died away. All that was left was a small, pleased, “Thank you.”
“Kurt here won’t admit it, but he can cook.” The pride was evident in Burt’s voice, and Kurt turned to look at him. “He makes the best mushroom and swiss burgers you’ll ever taste.” Kurt smiled, remembering last year’s Fourth of July cookout where he’d taken over the grill. At first, Uncle Mike hadn’t been happy. But when he’d tasted the burgers, his uncle had begged him for the recipe (which Kurt still refused to hand over).
“Wait…” Puck sounded shocked and slightly offended, which caused Kurt’s head to whip around in surprise. “You can make awesome burgers, but you chose to make spaghetti instead?”
At his words, Kurt was tempted to stab his fork into the plate of pasta in front of him. But after a nice deep breath and a pitch-perfect dirty look, he managed not too. Because, to be fair, not all of his irritation was aimed at Puck. Some of it was for Mercedes. Which, ok, he knew wasn’t really fair to her.
But still.
It had to go somewhere, and Kurt wasn’t about to feel bad for not making something that could be picked up for a dollar at a drive-through. And sure, his burgers were way better than anything a fast food joint could come up with.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that Kurt was not about to serve something so… common the first time he had a boy over for dinner.
Rather than try to defend his decision, Kurt said, quite simply, “Yes, Noah. I did,” before sticking his fork in his mouth. Through his irritation, Kurt couldn’t help but notice that his dad was right. The pasta sauce had turned out much better than the last time he’d made it.
As Kurt chewed, Puck stared at him as if he had something to say on the topic of burgers versus pasta. But before he could say anything, Burt burst out laughing. “Next time, I’ll make sure he makes hamburgers.”
The first thing that popped into Kurt’s head was, “Next time?” Because, until then, he hadn’t really thought about what was going to happen after Puck left for the night. Really, up till that second, everything seemed to ride on this dinner and how (or if) they got through it. And now that that wasn’t the case, Kurt found himself staring at Puck, desperate for an answer.
“Sounds good to me.” Puck stuck another forkful of the pasta into his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at Kurt.
Though he was still a little grumpy about the whole thing, Kurt couldn’t help but smile a little. The reaction was part anticipation and part relief. But no matter what it was, it caused Puck to smile back at him softly. “Fine. Next time I’ll make burgers.”
“Good. Now that that’s settled…” Burt was sprinkling some more of the parmesan cheese on his dinner as Kurt looked at him. “How’s your mother, Noah?”
From behind him, Kurt could hear Puck stutter a little before he said, “Uh, good. She just threw a candle party on Friday.”
Even though Puck was still speaking, Kurt continued to look at his dad. It was such an odd question. Polite? Maybe. But it was odd given the fact that, as far as Kurt knew, his dad didn’t know Puck’s mother. “Do you two know each other?”
“You could say that.” Burt lifted another forkful of food to his mouth and chewed. By the time he swallowed, Kurt was practically dying of curiosity. And that was to say nothing of how Puck must have been feeling. “We dated a little in high school.”
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.
- Thank you all for the continued support. I appreciate it more than I can say. :)
- Quack: You amaze me. I’m so glad you’re my beta.
- P.S. Wal-Mart does sell Carmel Appel Pies (which happen to be amazing) for $3.98 now. Last winter they were $4.98. :P
- 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
Chapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb
Chapter 18: Drunken Lullabies
Chapter 19: Unwanted Visitor
Chapter 20: Please
Chapter 21: Free For All
Chapter 22: Raditude
Chapter 23: Like Father
Chapter 24: What Other Reason
Chapter 25: Hummel Tires and Lube
Chapter 26: Nice To Meet You