Fic: Still a Chance for You
Title: Still a Chance for You
Disclaimer: I don't own em,if I did it would probably have to be on another channel.
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: Subject Matter, Talk of Violence, Injuries, Some language, angst
Characters: Kurt, Burt, The Hudson's the Glee club, some Kurt/Puck friendship
Word count: 2,856
Spoilers: None really
Summary: Kurt had always been a survivor.
A/N: I got this idea after watching to much Criminal Minds. There was a story like this, and it wouldn't leave me alone and this happened. Yeah, I know.
The first thing Kurt became aware of was the distinct smell of a hospital.
Then he realized that his dad was leaning over him, and his lips were moving but he couldn’t make out the words over the sound of Finn, shouting for someone in a really high pitched voice. The next thing he knows, Carole is guiding a straw in-between his lips and he thankfully takes a few sips of water trying to piece together what the events were that lead up to this. It comes flooding back to him in a bits and pieces, and he weakly deflates against the pillows, not bothering to protest that his dad is squeezing his hand entirely to hard. He makes a few incoherent noises in an attempt to answer the questions his dad was throwing at him, but he’s so tired suddenly that he drifts back off to sleep with an apologetic whimper.
The next time he woke up he began to take stock of his aches and pains. He could categorize each one, in the mildly sore was his split lip and bruised eye, the bruises around his neck and that littered his body and minor cuts. In the painful he could put the burn on his arm and the broken hand, and the three bones in his foot, (which also itched) the healing lashes along his back, as well as the missing finger nails and his cracked ribs. In the downright agonizing category, he only had one thing to list, and that was his stomach. It sent jolts of pain through him when he moved.
It took him a few moments before he realized his dad and a police officer were in his room, and when the officer gently asked if Kurt thought he could tell him what happened, he had to take a moment to steady himself. He didn’t want to think about it, about the terror and horror he’d witnessed for however long he’d been gone for. His father’s steady firm grip around his undamaged hand seemed to ground him though and he cleared his throat roughly before nodding.
“How long was I gone?”
“Almost a month.” Burt answered his voice choked and thick. Kurt couldn’t believe it, he’d been gone nearly a month, but it had felt like so much longer than that. He glanced over at the officer in the room and quietly began to recount what he could remember.
“I was walking home from school.” His voice is rough and hoarse and Kurt flinched slightly at the sound. “I was walking down Broadstreet when a van pulled down the street, I didn’t…I didn’t think anything of it. I really didn‘t think it was following me or anything. I had my earphones in, so I didn’t hear when the van stopped, or anyone get out of it.” It was a little fuzzy, but he pieced together what must have happened from there. “I was grabbed from behind and something was shoved something over my mouth and nose.” He glanced down at the sheets. “I struggled, but…”
“It was chloroform,” the officer told him gently. “Enough of it to knock out someone twice your size.” Kurt was sure it was meant to make him feel better, but it didn’t. Instead he struggled to try and continue with the story, hoping it would make more sense the more he told.
“When I woke up I was in a closet. The door was vented though, so I could see out kind of. There was a couple, an older boy and a little girl. She…she couldn’t have been more than five.” He said distressed. His father adjusted his grip on his hand slightly. “When the door opened the boy told me that if I didn’t make things to difficult it would be ok. Told me to call him Paul. The little girl said her name was Abby, and he corrected her and said her name was Melissa now.”
“Did they give you another name was well?” The officer asked and Kurt nodded slightly.
“John.” He said. “I was supposed to be known as John. When I started asking what was going on, Abby told me that I shouldn’t ask questions or I’d be punished. They moved me from the closet to a small bedroom, told me it was my room now, and that our “parents” would be in to talk to me soon.” Kurt shuddered and took a moment to compose himself.
“When they came in they told me the ground rules. I was their son John. I wasn’t to speak to anyone outside of our new family, and that failure to comply would lead to punishment. I protested, they weren’t my family, I refused to be known as John.”
“Then what happened?” The officer asked and Kurt swallowed glancing at his dad in discomfort.
“They burned me.” He saw his dad’s eyes flicker to the white gauze that covered the burn just below the crook of Kurt’s elbow. “It was like branding.” He admitted leaning back against his pillows and letting his eyes flicker to the ceiling. “That night I was locked into the cellar, I was told that once I could behave I could have a room. Anytime I refused to answer to John they hit me.”
“Did any other kids come in or out during your time there?”
“No. It was only Paul and Abby. Paul seemed to have been there the longest, knew the rules. Abby’s little, she didn’t understand. I…I tried to protect her as much as I could. She would cry for her mom, and then the woman would get upset, try and hit her, tell her she was her mom now. I tried to stop her when I could. It’s how I got my hand broken, and the lashes on my back.”
“Tell me about that.”
“The lashes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we were playing and she broke a vase. The second the vase broke we both knew someone was in for it. I told them it was me, so I got hit with a belt. Some of the cloth from my shirt got embedded in a few of the wounds and they kept having to cleanse them. I was pretty sick for a few days.”
“God,” he heard his dad mutter and Kurt began to keep his eyes trained away from the others. If he could detach himself, then this could be more like an awful story he was telling and not something that actually happened to him.
“Why don’t you tell me about the events that lead up to you escaping?”
“I didn’t escape.” Kurt admitted. “Not really, it’s sheer dumb luck I survived.” His dad released his hand long enough to find a drink and let Kurt take a sip of water before he continued. “They decided they could take us out. That we had been sufficiently broken to the point we wouldn’t try anything.” Kurt found he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, so he kept his eyes on the IV entering his hand.
“But you weren’t.” the officer prompted.
“Abby was holding my hand, they told me to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t do anything. I waited until their backs were turned, and asked Abby if she liked hide and seek. When she said yes, I told her we were going to play, but no matter what she heard, she couldn’t come out of her hiding place ok? She’s smart, because she seemed to know what I was going for. So I hid her, and when they came back to collect us, I was able to convince them that I had let go of her hand for just a second and she’d run off. They believed me.”
“You saved that little girl.” The officer told him gently and Kurt shrugged helplessly.
“I don’t know about that, I just know they didn’t find her. I have no ideas if she--”
“She is. She found a security guard at the grounds and told him who she was, and what happened to her. He must have taken her seriously, because her parents flew in from Cincinnati to get her a few days ago, a missing child‘s report had been filed on her.” Kurt felt relief flood him and shut his eyes against the sudden sting of relieved tears. “Then what happened?”
“They were furious. I’d lost them their daughter, so I was punished.” He shivered. “Beat me up for a while, broke the bones in my foot, cracked my ribs. Then, when I refused to help them find a replacement, I became…expendable.” There’s a thick silence, and his father made a sound of vaguely concealed horror.
“What happened?”
“It gets a little bit fuzzy.” Kurt explained. “They choked me until I nearly lost consciousness, then…then they stabbed me. I think when I fell, I fell on top of my hand, and it pressed into it. They must have wrapped me up in a blanket and the added pressure kept me from bleeding to death. I assume anyway.” Kurt shrugged a little bit; he couldn’t bear to look his dad in the face at this point. “When I came too, I was at the bottom of a ditch, wrapped in the blanket. I fought my way free and pulled myself up to the road and managed to flag down a passing car. I think pulling myself up the incline is how I lost some of my fingernails.”
It’s quiet for several moments, and when his dad suddenly released his hand Kurt felt a little lost. He was afraid to look at anyone. Afraid of what he might see, but suddenly his dad was leaning over the side railing and he’s pressing Kurt to his chest as tightly as he dared, and that’s all it took for the tears that Kurt had been keeping tightly locked up to escape, and before he knew it, he was sobbing against his father’s shoulder. He didn’t care that it hurt, that it made his throat hurt even worse, or that his ribs and stomach twinge painfully in time with his sobs. He only cares that it’s finally over, he’s back with his dad, and he’s finally safe.
Neither noticed when the officer quietly lets himself out of the room.
**************
Three days later, his friends were allowed in to see him.
Mercedes started crying almost immediately and hugged him for a really long time. Artie looked strangely disturbed, but simply greeted Kurt with a fist bump, and awkward smile. Tina clutched Mike’s hand and Puck was exchanging glances with Finn that Kurt can clearly read as his plotting to fuck up whoever did this to him. He could almost appreciate it. Quinn had her face buried in Sam’s neck and Sam was watching him absolutely horrified. Rachel was pacing, ranting about how unfair it is.
Kurt kind of felt like he was on display at the zoo.
Santana caused him to look away when she clambered up onto the foot of his bed, sitting cross legged and watching him warily while Brittany wiggled her way up until she was pressed against his side, being exceedingly careful not to hurt him. The way she clutched at him reminded him of Abby, and he found himself, not for the first time, desperately wishing that he knew for certain if she was ok. She hadn’t been hurt, not like he had been, but she had been with them longer. More psychological damage that could have been done. He’s brought out of that train of thought when Santana leaned forward and started scribbling on the cast around his foot.
“Ha bitches, first.” She announced, and Kurt couldn’t help but laugh, even if it hurt to do so and it seemed to lift the heavy atmosphere some. Rachel made a sound of protest and Mercedes and Finn both lunged forward to be the one to sign his hand first. They were so busy in their scuffle they didn’t notice Puck inch his way forward, dart around Artie and snag the sharpie Santana tossed at him and quickly scrawled ‘Puckzilla signed this first.’ across his cast.
The rest of the visit was much less tense as the others took turns signing both casts. Still, he would admit to being absolutely exhausted by the time they all left. Except for Finn, who had made himself comfortable in the seat next to Kurt’s bed.
“You know that Mom and Burt are going to never let you out of their sight again don’t you?”
“Oh I’m sure. I know my dad feels guilty that I didn’t have a ride, and that’s why I was walking, but I don’t know. These people said things that made me think they’d marked me a while ago. I wasn’t just convenient, they picked me. It would have happened one way or another.”
“I’m really sorry it happened to you.” Finn said shifting. “I should have been looking out for you.”
“Finn, I really don’t think it would have mattered. If they marked me, it was bound to happen.” Finn was silent for a few moments before he shifted. “I heard what Burt was telling my mom about what you did for that little girl. How you protected her and stuff.”
“She couldn’t have been more than five, she was scared and the other kid with us…he’d been there to long. He gave up, and didn’t care anymore. They broke him, I have no idea how long he’d been stuck with those people. I can’t blame him for being less than sympathetic to her. I did what I could for her, she was so little.”
“The police said you probably saved her life.”
“I doubt it, but I guess I stopped it before she could end up turning out like Paul.” The pair fell silent and Kurt began to give in to his exhaustion before murmuring. “I wish he could have gotten out too.” Finn leaned forward slightly and gave Kurt’s good hand a squeeze. He’d stick around until their parents showed back up.
**************
Nearly a week later, Kurt was getting restless. He wanted to go home, he wanted to hide out in his room until this media circus died down, and he wanted to pretend that everything was normal. To pretend that he wasn’t going to have scars that traipsed across his back for the rest of his life, or that he somehow managed to withstand a psychological mindfuck, or that somewhere there was a kid still stuck in that situation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what he did. He wanted to pretend he didn‘t have nightmares that caused him to wake up screaming. And he wanted to pretend that he didn’t feel weak and useless.
Surprisingly, he found that in that week, Puck was the one who treated him the most normally. Wasn’t treating him like glass, or asking if he was ok every few moments. Puck still picked on him, called him names, even if there was no malice there now. Once he even promised that once he was fairly certain he wouldn’t die, he would give him a most epic dumpster dive. While Kurt had laughed, Finn and Mercedes had been so mortified; they had promptly kicked Puck out. When the others scolded him, Puck still remained wholly unapologetic, and Kurt found he appreciated that.
Once he was finally allowed to go home, Kurt was surprised to find that his dad, Carole, Finn, and Puck were the ones who were waiting to take him home. Obviously he had expected his dad and the Hudson’s, but Puck was a surprise. Mercedes, sure, Artie maybe, but Puck had been the curveball. Still, when he finds himself sitting between Finn and Puck, he couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, dwarfed by the two much bigger boys.
“This way, if your dad makes a sharp corner, you’ll have buffers. You know, I might not be too good at that. Being all guns and stone, so try and hit Finn if possible, he’s flabbier.” Puck hissed in his ear and Kurt can’t help but laugh, even if it still hurts to do so. His dad glanced suspiciously at them in the review mirror, but remained silent. Finn however, glanced over at Kurt like he’d finally lost his mind. Puck just turned to look innocently out the window, leaving Kurt to try and explain why he was laughing, that bastard.
As time passed, he expected Puck to start to wean off the behavior. Revert back to being a dick, but he never did. Oh sure, he still was crude and said things that were rather mortifying, and more times than not, got him chased out of the house by Finn, or once Burt. But still, Kurt found that he rather surprisingly enjoyed being in Puck’s company. When he wasn’t actually throwing him in the dumpster or shoving him against lockers or throwing a slushie in his face, Puck was actually a fairly decent person.
Not that he would ever tell Puck that. Think of what that would do to his already massive ego.
Disclaimer: I don't own em,if I did it would probably have to be on another channel.
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: Subject Matter, Talk of Violence, Injuries, Some language, angst
Characters: Kurt, Burt, The Hudson's the Glee club, some Kurt/Puck friendship
Word count: 2,856
Spoilers: None really
Summary: Kurt had always been a survivor.
A/N: I got this idea after watching to much Criminal Minds. There was a story like this, and it wouldn't leave me alone and this happened. Yeah, I know.
The first thing Kurt became aware of was the distinct smell of a hospital.
Then he realized that his dad was leaning over him, and his lips were moving but he couldn’t make out the words over the sound of Finn, shouting for someone in a really high pitched voice. The next thing he knows, Carole is guiding a straw in-between his lips and he thankfully takes a few sips of water trying to piece together what the events were that lead up to this. It comes flooding back to him in a bits and pieces, and he weakly deflates against the pillows, not bothering to protest that his dad is squeezing his hand entirely to hard. He makes a few incoherent noises in an attempt to answer the questions his dad was throwing at him, but he’s so tired suddenly that he drifts back off to sleep with an apologetic whimper.
The next time he woke up he began to take stock of his aches and pains. He could categorize each one, in the mildly sore was his split lip and bruised eye, the bruises around his neck and that littered his body and minor cuts. In the painful he could put the burn on his arm and the broken hand, and the three bones in his foot, (which also itched) the healing lashes along his back, as well as the missing finger nails and his cracked ribs. In the downright agonizing category, he only had one thing to list, and that was his stomach. It sent jolts of pain through him when he moved.
It took him a few moments before he realized his dad and a police officer were in his room, and when the officer gently asked if Kurt thought he could tell him what happened, he had to take a moment to steady himself. He didn’t want to think about it, about the terror and horror he’d witnessed for however long he’d been gone for. His father’s steady firm grip around his undamaged hand seemed to ground him though and he cleared his throat roughly before nodding.
“How long was I gone?”
“Almost a month.” Burt answered his voice choked and thick. Kurt couldn’t believe it, he’d been gone nearly a month, but it had felt like so much longer than that. He glanced over at the officer in the room and quietly began to recount what he could remember.
“I was walking home from school.” His voice is rough and hoarse and Kurt flinched slightly at the sound. “I was walking down Broadstreet when a van pulled down the street, I didn’t…I didn’t think anything of it. I really didn‘t think it was following me or anything. I had my earphones in, so I didn’t hear when the van stopped, or anyone get out of it.” It was a little fuzzy, but he pieced together what must have happened from there. “I was grabbed from behind and something was shoved something over my mouth and nose.” He glanced down at the sheets. “I struggled, but…”
“It was chloroform,” the officer told him gently. “Enough of it to knock out someone twice your size.” Kurt was sure it was meant to make him feel better, but it didn’t. Instead he struggled to try and continue with the story, hoping it would make more sense the more he told.
“When I woke up I was in a closet. The door was vented though, so I could see out kind of. There was a couple, an older boy and a little girl. She…she couldn’t have been more than five.” He said distressed. His father adjusted his grip on his hand slightly. “When the door opened the boy told me that if I didn’t make things to difficult it would be ok. Told me to call him Paul. The little girl said her name was Abby, and he corrected her and said her name was Melissa now.”
“Did they give you another name was well?” The officer asked and Kurt nodded slightly.
“John.” He said. “I was supposed to be known as John. When I started asking what was going on, Abby told me that I shouldn’t ask questions or I’d be punished. They moved me from the closet to a small bedroom, told me it was my room now, and that our “parents” would be in to talk to me soon.” Kurt shuddered and took a moment to compose himself.
“When they came in they told me the ground rules. I was their son John. I wasn’t to speak to anyone outside of our new family, and that failure to comply would lead to punishment. I protested, they weren’t my family, I refused to be known as John.”
“Then what happened?” The officer asked and Kurt swallowed glancing at his dad in discomfort.
“They burned me.” He saw his dad’s eyes flicker to the white gauze that covered the burn just below the crook of Kurt’s elbow. “It was like branding.” He admitted leaning back against his pillows and letting his eyes flicker to the ceiling. “That night I was locked into the cellar, I was told that once I could behave I could have a room. Anytime I refused to answer to John they hit me.”
“Did any other kids come in or out during your time there?”
“No. It was only Paul and Abby. Paul seemed to have been there the longest, knew the rules. Abby’s little, she didn’t understand. I…I tried to protect her as much as I could. She would cry for her mom, and then the woman would get upset, try and hit her, tell her she was her mom now. I tried to stop her when I could. It’s how I got my hand broken, and the lashes on my back.”
“Tell me about that.”
“The lashes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we were playing and she broke a vase. The second the vase broke we both knew someone was in for it. I told them it was me, so I got hit with a belt. Some of the cloth from my shirt got embedded in a few of the wounds and they kept having to cleanse them. I was pretty sick for a few days.”
“God,” he heard his dad mutter and Kurt began to keep his eyes trained away from the others. If he could detach himself, then this could be more like an awful story he was telling and not something that actually happened to him.
“Why don’t you tell me about the events that lead up to you escaping?”
“I didn’t escape.” Kurt admitted. “Not really, it’s sheer dumb luck I survived.” His dad released his hand long enough to find a drink and let Kurt take a sip of water before he continued. “They decided they could take us out. That we had been sufficiently broken to the point we wouldn’t try anything.” Kurt found he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, so he kept his eyes on the IV entering his hand.
“But you weren’t.” the officer prompted.
“Abby was holding my hand, they told me to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t do anything. I waited until their backs were turned, and asked Abby if she liked hide and seek. When she said yes, I told her we were going to play, but no matter what she heard, she couldn’t come out of her hiding place ok? She’s smart, because she seemed to know what I was going for. So I hid her, and when they came back to collect us, I was able to convince them that I had let go of her hand for just a second and she’d run off. They believed me.”
“You saved that little girl.” The officer told him gently and Kurt shrugged helplessly.
“I don’t know about that, I just know they didn’t find her. I have no ideas if she--”
“She is. She found a security guard at the grounds and told him who she was, and what happened to her. He must have taken her seriously, because her parents flew in from Cincinnati to get her a few days ago, a missing child‘s report had been filed on her.” Kurt felt relief flood him and shut his eyes against the sudden sting of relieved tears. “Then what happened?”
“They were furious. I’d lost them their daughter, so I was punished.” He shivered. “Beat me up for a while, broke the bones in my foot, cracked my ribs. Then, when I refused to help them find a replacement, I became…expendable.” There’s a thick silence, and his father made a sound of vaguely concealed horror.
“What happened?”
“It gets a little bit fuzzy.” Kurt explained. “They choked me until I nearly lost consciousness, then…then they stabbed me. I think when I fell, I fell on top of my hand, and it pressed into it. They must have wrapped me up in a blanket and the added pressure kept me from bleeding to death. I assume anyway.” Kurt shrugged a little bit; he couldn’t bear to look his dad in the face at this point. “When I came too, I was at the bottom of a ditch, wrapped in the blanket. I fought my way free and pulled myself up to the road and managed to flag down a passing car. I think pulling myself up the incline is how I lost some of my fingernails.”
It’s quiet for several moments, and when his dad suddenly released his hand Kurt felt a little lost. He was afraid to look at anyone. Afraid of what he might see, but suddenly his dad was leaning over the side railing and he’s pressing Kurt to his chest as tightly as he dared, and that’s all it took for the tears that Kurt had been keeping tightly locked up to escape, and before he knew it, he was sobbing against his father’s shoulder. He didn’t care that it hurt, that it made his throat hurt even worse, or that his ribs and stomach twinge painfully in time with his sobs. He only cares that it’s finally over, he’s back with his dad, and he’s finally safe.
Neither noticed when the officer quietly lets himself out of the room.
**************
Three days later, his friends were allowed in to see him.
Mercedes started crying almost immediately and hugged him for a really long time. Artie looked strangely disturbed, but simply greeted Kurt with a fist bump, and awkward smile. Tina clutched Mike’s hand and Puck was exchanging glances with Finn that Kurt can clearly read as his plotting to fuck up whoever did this to him. He could almost appreciate it. Quinn had her face buried in Sam’s neck and Sam was watching him absolutely horrified. Rachel was pacing, ranting about how unfair it is.
Kurt kind of felt like he was on display at the zoo.
Santana caused him to look away when she clambered up onto the foot of his bed, sitting cross legged and watching him warily while Brittany wiggled her way up until she was pressed against his side, being exceedingly careful not to hurt him. The way she clutched at him reminded him of Abby, and he found himself, not for the first time, desperately wishing that he knew for certain if she was ok. She hadn’t been hurt, not like he had been, but she had been with them longer. More psychological damage that could have been done. He’s brought out of that train of thought when Santana leaned forward and started scribbling on the cast around his foot.
“Ha bitches, first.” She announced, and Kurt couldn’t help but laugh, even if it hurt to do so and it seemed to lift the heavy atmosphere some. Rachel made a sound of protest and Mercedes and Finn both lunged forward to be the one to sign his hand first. They were so busy in their scuffle they didn’t notice Puck inch his way forward, dart around Artie and snag the sharpie Santana tossed at him and quickly scrawled ‘Puckzilla signed this first.’ across his cast.
The rest of the visit was much less tense as the others took turns signing both casts. Still, he would admit to being absolutely exhausted by the time they all left. Except for Finn, who had made himself comfortable in the seat next to Kurt’s bed.
“You know that Mom and Burt are going to never let you out of their sight again don’t you?”
“Oh I’m sure. I know my dad feels guilty that I didn’t have a ride, and that’s why I was walking, but I don’t know. These people said things that made me think they’d marked me a while ago. I wasn’t just convenient, they picked me. It would have happened one way or another.”
“I’m really sorry it happened to you.” Finn said shifting. “I should have been looking out for you.”
“Finn, I really don’t think it would have mattered. If they marked me, it was bound to happen.” Finn was silent for a few moments before he shifted. “I heard what Burt was telling my mom about what you did for that little girl. How you protected her and stuff.”
“She couldn’t have been more than five, she was scared and the other kid with us…he’d been there to long. He gave up, and didn’t care anymore. They broke him, I have no idea how long he’d been stuck with those people. I can’t blame him for being less than sympathetic to her. I did what I could for her, she was so little.”
“The police said you probably saved her life.”
“I doubt it, but I guess I stopped it before she could end up turning out like Paul.” The pair fell silent and Kurt began to give in to his exhaustion before murmuring. “I wish he could have gotten out too.” Finn leaned forward slightly and gave Kurt’s good hand a squeeze. He’d stick around until their parents showed back up.
**************
Nearly a week later, Kurt was getting restless. He wanted to go home, he wanted to hide out in his room until this media circus died down, and he wanted to pretend that everything was normal. To pretend that he wasn’t going to have scars that traipsed across his back for the rest of his life, or that he somehow managed to withstand a psychological mindfuck, or that somewhere there was a kid still stuck in that situation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what he did. He wanted to pretend he didn‘t have nightmares that caused him to wake up screaming. And he wanted to pretend that he didn’t feel weak and useless.
Surprisingly, he found that in that week, Puck was the one who treated him the most normally. Wasn’t treating him like glass, or asking if he was ok every few moments. Puck still picked on him, called him names, even if there was no malice there now. Once he even promised that once he was fairly certain he wouldn’t die, he would give him a most epic dumpster dive. While Kurt had laughed, Finn and Mercedes had been so mortified; they had promptly kicked Puck out. When the others scolded him, Puck still remained wholly unapologetic, and Kurt found he appreciated that.
Once he was finally allowed to go home, Kurt was surprised to find that his dad, Carole, Finn, and Puck were the ones who were waiting to take him home. Obviously he had expected his dad and the Hudson’s, but Puck was a surprise. Mercedes, sure, Artie maybe, but Puck had been the curveball. Still, when he finds himself sitting between Finn and Puck, he couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, dwarfed by the two much bigger boys.
“This way, if your dad makes a sharp corner, you’ll have buffers. You know, I might not be too good at that. Being all guns and stone, so try and hit Finn if possible, he’s flabbier.” Puck hissed in his ear and Kurt can’t help but laugh, even if it still hurts to do so. His dad glanced suspiciously at them in the review mirror, but remained silent. Finn however, glanced over at Kurt like he’d finally lost his mind. Puck just turned to look innocently out the window, leaving Kurt to try and explain why he was laughing, that bastard.
As time passed, he expected Puck to start to wean off the behavior. Revert back to being a dick, but he never did. Oh sure, he still was crude and said things that were rather mortifying, and more times than not, got him chased out of the house by Finn, or once Burt. But still, Kurt found that he rather surprisingly enjoyed being in Puck’s company. When he wasn’t actually throwing him in the dumpster or shoving him against lockers or throwing a slushie in his face, Puck was actually a fairly decent person.
Not that he would ever tell Puck that. Think of what that would do to his already massive ego.