Fic: The Snowball Effect (My fill for the holiday exchange at Puckurt!)
Title: The Snowball Effect
Disclaimer: I don't own em, I if I did glee would probably have to be on a different channel.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Just Sam
Characters: Kurt, Puck, Finn, and Sam
Warnings: a little bit of blood and a little bit of language. Some angst.
Word count: Over 2000 words
Summary: A snowball fight leads to a rather unpleasant experience.
A/N: This was the fic done for alter_alterego for the Christmuhkkah fest over at Puckurt Now that all the reveals have been done, I can post it. Thanks to Buttermilkwaffl for her quick beta!
To be completely honest, Kurt isn't sure how he ended up in the middle of an epic snowball fight with Noah Puckerman, of all people. He knows that Puck, Finn, and Sam totally started it, and he was only defending himself. Whoever started it is irrelevant now, as the two lurk around, each trying to hit the other first. To Kurt's knowledge, Finn and Sam retreated into the house like sane people nearly half an hour ago.
Kurt slips around the side of a tree and sees Puck looking for him. Puck's back is turned, but all is fair in snowball wars. The snowball catches Puck right between his shoulder blades, and he lets out a noise that is half shriek, half snarl. Kurt has to bite his tongue to keep from cracking up as he darts back the way he came. He can hear Puck stumbling around behind him and is grateful, just this once, for being so much slighter than the other boy.
He underestimated Puck’s sheer desire to shove his face in a snow bank, however, and, next thing he knows, he feels Puck’s arm neatly hook around his waist. He manages to twist out of the grasp, but it knocks him off kilter, and he face-plants into the snow anyhow. He can hear Puck grumbling in amusement as he tries to stand up, and Kurt hurries to get away.
He pays more attention to Puck and less attention to where he is actually going, and when the snow-covered lawn suddenly becomes the ice covered sidewalk, Kurt doesn't notice. His left knee twists and Kurt feels something pop as his foot skids out from under him and, in an attempt to keep upright, he twists in the opposite direction. All he manages to do successfully is hurt himself worse as his forehead comes into rather abrupt, hard contact with a low hanging branch. The sharp stinging feel of the cut distracts Kurt momentarily, before he lands with a harsh grunt against the base of the tree. He lies there, stunned, for a few moments, trying to ignore the warmth of blood on his forehead.
He doesn’t notice the icicle getting knocked loose, but it is kind of hard not to notice it when it falls and embeds itself just above his right hip. There is a sharp, biting pain the likes of which he is sure he’s never experienced before, and then his world goes hazy and blacks out.
*********************
Kurt knows this can’t be one of those “life passing before your eyes” situations, because, frankly, that just wouldn’t make sense; this certainly isn’t his first memory.
He does recognize it though; he was four and playing out in the snow when an icicle fell off the garage and hit him in the face. It wasn’t big enough to cause much damage; it just cut his cheek slightly, but his father panicked, and it took his mother several minutes to calm them both down. Kurt cried, because it had hurt and his dad had been freaking out.
Afterward, he sat in his mothers lap, with a Band-Aid now gracing his forehead, and they talked about Christmas. His dad let them put the tree up earlier than they normally would have, in an attempt to make Kurt feel better. It also helped relieve Burt's guilt for not paying closer attention, even though it had been a freak accident.
Kurt shuts his eyes briefly against the painful but loving memory. When he opens his eyes, he is staring at another one. It is like watching an old home movie, and Kurt feels his throat tighten slightly. He remembers this scene all too well; he clings to it to help himself make it through the holidays.
It was the last Christmas before his mom died; he could remember this so well. It had snowed on Christmas Eve, and his mother bundled him up, did the same for herself, and headed outside. His dad really didn’t want her out in the snow, but she had worn him down, and soon enough he joined them there as well. His mom hadn’t been sick that day; she had just been a mom and a wife enjoying a snow day with her family.
He watches, frozen off to the side, able to see and hear, but not to be seen or heard, no matter how much he wants to reach out to his mother.
He remembers the snowman; it had taken them so long to do, and they had to recruit his dad to help put on the head. His mother let him dress it. Kurt still has the gaudy holiday scarf with which they adorned the snowman’s neck; he keeps it tucked away in the back of a drawer of his vanity. It rarely sees the light of day, but during the holidays, when things get particularly hard, Kurt sometimes fishes it out. He knows his dad still has the baseball cap they used, though he never wore it again.
They made snow angels, and his mother even managed to coerce his dad into joining them. Then they had a snowball fight. It was one of the last times someone threw a snowball at him or pushed him into the snow without malicious intent - until today, he supposed.
He remembers going back inside and changing before curling up with some thick blankets and cocoa and watching Christmas movies for a while. He remembers falling asleep against his mom’s side and waking up on Christmas morning, still curled up against her.
Kurt shuts his eyes again; that memory is bittersweet in a lot of ways.
When he reopens his eyes, he recognizes this particular memory as well. It was the first Christmas after she died, and his dad tried to make something normal for him. It failed spectacularly, but his father had meant well, and Kurt appreciated that he tried. They spent the day in awkward, uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t until, flipping channels, they stumbled upon his mother’s favorite Christmas movie that things broke wide open.
Kurt sucked in a breath. Before he had even realized it, he was crying. His dad had him tucked against his chest, arms tightening around him, promising him that it would eventually get better. He supposes in some ways it has, but in so many more, it really hasn’t. He cried into his father’s chest for a long time. The gifts under the tree were completely forgotten.
Kurt watches the scene bleed out and realizes this has to be the weirdest thing ever. Then his vision goes black again.
*********************
When Kurt’s eyes open, he would have jumped if he was capable of it. Puck is really close to his face, and it takes him a few moments to remember what happened. So he blacked out and - what? - had a fever dream about how Christmas and snow kept screwing him over? The next thing he realizes is there are too many hands. He turns his head slightly and sees that Finn is kneeling in the snow by his head, pressing a cloth into the cut on his forehead, and when he turns his head a little, he realizes Sam is kneeling by the icicle. Kurt realizes it hasn’t really gone in too deep, just enough to be a shock and hurt like hell; he is fairly certain he is OK, though. It hasn’t struck anything vital, or if it has, he is too numb to feel it.
Or, well, he is as OK as someone can be with an icicle sticking out of them.
“Oh, shit, Kurt, don’t move.” Puck tells him, cell phone pressed against his ear, looking upset and strangely guilty. There’s a steady stream of babble coming from Finn, but Kurt finds that he is really tired all of a sudden and can’t exactly understand what he’s saying. He barely even reacts when Sam attempts to check just how deep the icicle goes.
“Don’t close your eyes either!” Puck snaps, and Kurt thinks that just isn’t fair. He isn’t moving, he should at least be allowed to close his eyes. Still, he tries to pry his eyes open and when he realizes that steady stream of babble from Finn was him trying to keep him awake he shifts against the back of the tree, sending shivers of pain through him. However he is so tired and his body feels so heavy that he is having a hard time trying to obey Puck’s order.
“Good news is it didn’t go in to deep. Just enough that I’m sure it hurts like a bitch.” Sam says before trying to smile reassuringly at Kurt. “If you had a cordless hair dryer I bet we could just melt it off.” he says, trying to joke. Finn’s constant stream of speech stops for a moment, as he and Puck both stare at Sam who shifts uncomfortably and refocuses his eyes on the icicle. “I was just trying to lighten the mood,” he mutters.
Finn mutters something and Puck turns his attention back to Kurt. Kurt tries to offer Sam a smile; he at least appreciates the effort. Steady thrums of pain throb through him, and by the time he finally hears sirens he figures it would be OK to rest his eyes, just for a moment.
He’s out before he can even hear Puck’s protest to stay awake.
*********************
The next time Kurt opens his eyes, he notices three things. First, that he is really warm, second, that he is in a hospital, and third, his family and the entire glee club are crammed into the room. As soon as he tries to move, Mercedes is on him, crawling up onto the bed, and pressing against his left side. His dad’s death grip on his hand seems to only get tighter, and Carole is suddenly leaning over the bed railing, fussing over his blankets.
“What happened?” Kurt asks tiredly and the others share a glance.
“You got hit with an icicle, but it didn’t do too much damage; it was really more that you were in the snow for so long. Hypothermia, dude, also frost bite, two of your toes are black, it‘s kind of awesome. You also completely jacked up your knee. They‘re talking about surgery to fix it, can I sign the cast first if you need one?” Finn says, though his smile is cracked slightly. “I knew I should have dragged you inside when Sam and I went in.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Puck stiffen at the statement, and his muddled mind tries to piece together if Finn is blaming Puck for what happened.
He is too tired to put up much fuss though and drifts off instead. He vaguely hears Sam’s protest of him just waking up.
The next time he opens his eyes, he finds Puck sitting in the chair that his father occupied previously. The others are gone, and Kurt groggily tries to piece together how long he’s been asleep. Once Puck seems to realize he is awake, he leans forward anxiously, his face furrowing in lines of concern.
“Hey man, you with me this time?”
“I think so.”
“Good, because I’ve been trying to apologize for like three hours, and each time I think you’re awake, you mumble a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense and fall back asleep.”
“Why are you trying to apologize?” Kurt asks. His head still feels a little muzzy and he vaguely wonders just what is coursing through his veins at the moment.
“If I hadn’t kept you outside, if I had just agreed to go in with Finn and Sam--”
“That’s stupid.” Kurt says before he can stop himself. Puck looks startled and Kurt just starts talking. “I’m sure Finn is the one who put that idea in your head, but let me reassure you, it’s no one’s fault, except probably my own.” He shifts uncomfortably. “You know, this was the first time I’d had a snowball fight since I was seven. I’ve had snowballs thrown at me before, but it was the first time it wasn’t because someone was trying to demean me.”
“Still, you got hurt because you were running from me. You messed up your knee and you cut your head and god Kurt, you got stabbed by an icicle, those things have been known to kill people!” And that sparks off part of one of his memories. He smiles slightly.
“My dad said that same thing when I was about four and an icicle fell off the room and hit my face. My dad blamed himself too, said he should have been watching me closer. Not exactly sure what either of you thought you could have done to stop it.”
“I could have dragged you inside instead of chasing you around your front yard.”
“We were having a good time.” Kurt says. He is feeling tired again, but he thinks this needs to be said. “I appreciated that you guys wanted to include me. Yeah, we could have stopped when Finn and Sam did. You could have just been playing along for their sake. I’m sure you could have caught me more than once, but you didn’t. Which makes me think you were just having a good time, like I was. No one could have known what was going to happen. No one’s to blame but myself. If I had been paying closer attention to where I was going and what I was doing and less to where you were, I’d have noticed where my feet where going.”
“I…I mean Finn was right though. If he had dragged you inside, your wouldn’t be in the hospital.” Kurt mumbles something Puck can’t make out and he eyes the thick blankets and warming saline being dripped into Kurt.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“But, I do.” Puck admits. “And it’s kinda pissing me off.”
“Sorry?” Kurt isn’t really sure how else to respond to that and Puck lets out a frustrated breath.
“We aren’t supposed to be friends, it’s not supposed to work like that, but somehow…damn it Kurt, somehow you made me think of you as a friend and yeah I worry and you’re hurt. Like bad, and I feel responsible and I’m fairly certain everyone else blames me, and--”
Kurt cuts him off with a hand on his arm and a slight smile, because Puck is kind of funny when he gets nervous. He rambles, and it is kind of amusing. Still, Kurt doesn’t think he needs to shoulder the blame for what happened. It was a freak accident.
“Would you still be here if you didn’t feel guilty?” Kurt asks.
“Of course I would.” Puck seems offended by the implication he wouldn’t be there otherwise.
“Well then, that settles it. Everything’s fine now. You aren’t to blame for my lack of coordination or the fact that we were just having a good time. In fact if you really need someone to blame, either blame me, or blame Finn, he started the whole thing anyhow.”
“I like the way you think Hummel.” Puck says with a laugh. Kurt smiles slightly.
“If you want, to spite him, I’ll let you sign my maybe needed cast first.” As Kurt drifts off to sleep, he can distinctly hear Puck laugh at the idea.
Disclaimer: I don't own em, I if I did glee would probably have to be on a different channel.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Just Sam
Characters: Kurt, Puck, Finn, and Sam
Warnings: a little bit of blood and a little bit of language. Some angst.
Word count: Over 2000 words
Summary: A snowball fight leads to a rather unpleasant experience.
A/N: This was the fic done for alter_alterego for the Christmuhkkah fest over at Puckurt Now that all the reveals have been done, I can post it. Thanks to Buttermilkwaffl for her quick beta!
To be completely honest, Kurt isn't sure how he ended up in the middle of an epic snowball fight with Noah Puckerman, of all people. He knows that Puck, Finn, and Sam totally started it, and he was only defending himself. Whoever started it is irrelevant now, as the two lurk around, each trying to hit the other first. To Kurt's knowledge, Finn and Sam retreated into the house like sane people nearly half an hour ago.
Kurt slips around the side of a tree and sees Puck looking for him. Puck's back is turned, but all is fair in snowball wars. The snowball catches Puck right between his shoulder blades, and he lets out a noise that is half shriek, half snarl. Kurt has to bite his tongue to keep from cracking up as he darts back the way he came. He can hear Puck stumbling around behind him and is grateful, just this once, for being so much slighter than the other boy.
He underestimated Puck’s sheer desire to shove his face in a snow bank, however, and, next thing he knows, he feels Puck’s arm neatly hook around his waist. He manages to twist out of the grasp, but it knocks him off kilter, and he face-plants into the snow anyhow. He can hear Puck grumbling in amusement as he tries to stand up, and Kurt hurries to get away.
He pays more attention to Puck and less attention to where he is actually going, and when the snow-covered lawn suddenly becomes the ice covered sidewalk, Kurt doesn't notice. His left knee twists and Kurt feels something pop as his foot skids out from under him and, in an attempt to keep upright, he twists in the opposite direction. All he manages to do successfully is hurt himself worse as his forehead comes into rather abrupt, hard contact with a low hanging branch. The sharp stinging feel of the cut distracts Kurt momentarily, before he lands with a harsh grunt against the base of the tree. He lies there, stunned, for a few moments, trying to ignore the warmth of blood on his forehead.
He doesn’t notice the icicle getting knocked loose, but it is kind of hard not to notice it when it falls and embeds itself just above his right hip. There is a sharp, biting pain the likes of which he is sure he’s never experienced before, and then his world goes hazy and blacks out.
*********************
Kurt knows this can’t be one of those “life passing before your eyes” situations, because, frankly, that just wouldn’t make sense; this certainly isn’t his first memory.
He does recognize it though; he was four and playing out in the snow when an icicle fell off the garage and hit him in the face. It wasn’t big enough to cause much damage; it just cut his cheek slightly, but his father panicked, and it took his mother several minutes to calm them both down. Kurt cried, because it had hurt and his dad had been freaking out.
Afterward, he sat in his mothers lap, with a Band-Aid now gracing his forehead, and they talked about Christmas. His dad let them put the tree up earlier than they normally would have, in an attempt to make Kurt feel better. It also helped relieve Burt's guilt for not paying closer attention, even though it had been a freak accident.
Kurt shuts his eyes briefly against the painful but loving memory. When he opens his eyes, he is staring at another one. It is like watching an old home movie, and Kurt feels his throat tighten slightly. He remembers this scene all too well; he clings to it to help himself make it through the holidays.
It was the last Christmas before his mom died; he could remember this so well. It had snowed on Christmas Eve, and his mother bundled him up, did the same for herself, and headed outside. His dad really didn’t want her out in the snow, but she had worn him down, and soon enough he joined them there as well. His mom hadn’t been sick that day; she had just been a mom and a wife enjoying a snow day with her family.
He watches, frozen off to the side, able to see and hear, but not to be seen or heard, no matter how much he wants to reach out to his mother.
He remembers the snowman; it had taken them so long to do, and they had to recruit his dad to help put on the head. His mother let him dress it. Kurt still has the gaudy holiday scarf with which they adorned the snowman’s neck; he keeps it tucked away in the back of a drawer of his vanity. It rarely sees the light of day, but during the holidays, when things get particularly hard, Kurt sometimes fishes it out. He knows his dad still has the baseball cap they used, though he never wore it again.
They made snow angels, and his mother even managed to coerce his dad into joining them. Then they had a snowball fight. It was one of the last times someone threw a snowball at him or pushed him into the snow without malicious intent - until today, he supposed.
He remembers going back inside and changing before curling up with some thick blankets and cocoa and watching Christmas movies for a while. He remembers falling asleep against his mom’s side and waking up on Christmas morning, still curled up against her.
Kurt shuts his eyes again; that memory is bittersweet in a lot of ways.
When he reopens his eyes, he recognizes this particular memory as well. It was the first Christmas after she died, and his dad tried to make something normal for him. It failed spectacularly, but his father had meant well, and Kurt appreciated that he tried. They spent the day in awkward, uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t until, flipping channels, they stumbled upon his mother’s favorite Christmas movie that things broke wide open.
Kurt sucked in a breath. Before he had even realized it, he was crying. His dad had him tucked against his chest, arms tightening around him, promising him that it would eventually get better. He supposes in some ways it has, but in so many more, it really hasn’t. He cried into his father’s chest for a long time. The gifts under the tree were completely forgotten.
Kurt watches the scene bleed out and realizes this has to be the weirdest thing ever. Then his vision goes black again.
*********************
When Kurt’s eyes open, he would have jumped if he was capable of it. Puck is really close to his face, and it takes him a few moments to remember what happened. So he blacked out and - what? - had a fever dream about how Christmas and snow kept screwing him over? The next thing he realizes is there are too many hands. He turns his head slightly and sees that Finn is kneeling in the snow by his head, pressing a cloth into the cut on his forehead, and when he turns his head a little, he realizes Sam is kneeling by the icicle. Kurt realizes it hasn’t really gone in too deep, just enough to be a shock and hurt like hell; he is fairly certain he is OK, though. It hasn’t struck anything vital, or if it has, he is too numb to feel it.
Or, well, he is as OK as someone can be with an icicle sticking out of them.
“Oh, shit, Kurt, don’t move.” Puck tells him, cell phone pressed against his ear, looking upset and strangely guilty. There’s a steady stream of babble coming from Finn, but Kurt finds that he is really tired all of a sudden and can’t exactly understand what he’s saying. He barely even reacts when Sam attempts to check just how deep the icicle goes.
“Don’t close your eyes either!” Puck snaps, and Kurt thinks that just isn’t fair. He isn’t moving, he should at least be allowed to close his eyes. Still, he tries to pry his eyes open and when he realizes that steady stream of babble from Finn was him trying to keep him awake he shifts against the back of the tree, sending shivers of pain through him. However he is so tired and his body feels so heavy that he is having a hard time trying to obey Puck’s order.
“Good news is it didn’t go in to deep. Just enough that I’m sure it hurts like a bitch.” Sam says before trying to smile reassuringly at Kurt. “If you had a cordless hair dryer I bet we could just melt it off.” he says, trying to joke. Finn’s constant stream of speech stops for a moment, as he and Puck both stare at Sam who shifts uncomfortably and refocuses his eyes on the icicle. “I was just trying to lighten the mood,” he mutters.
Finn mutters something and Puck turns his attention back to Kurt. Kurt tries to offer Sam a smile; he at least appreciates the effort. Steady thrums of pain throb through him, and by the time he finally hears sirens he figures it would be OK to rest his eyes, just for a moment.
He’s out before he can even hear Puck’s protest to stay awake.
*********************
The next time Kurt opens his eyes, he notices three things. First, that he is really warm, second, that he is in a hospital, and third, his family and the entire glee club are crammed into the room. As soon as he tries to move, Mercedes is on him, crawling up onto the bed, and pressing against his left side. His dad’s death grip on his hand seems to only get tighter, and Carole is suddenly leaning over the bed railing, fussing over his blankets.
“What happened?” Kurt asks tiredly and the others share a glance.
“You got hit with an icicle, but it didn’t do too much damage; it was really more that you were in the snow for so long. Hypothermia, dude, also frost bite, two of your toes are black, it‘s kind of awesome. You also completely jacked up your knee. They‘re talking about surgery to fix it, can I sign the cast first if you need one?” Finn says, though his smile is cracked slightly. “I knew I should have dragged you inside when Sam and I went in.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Puck stiffen at the statement, and his muddled mind tries to piece together if Finn is blaming Puck for what happened.
He is too tired to put up much fuss though and drifts off instead. He vaguely hears Sam’s protest of him just waking up.
The next time he opens his eyes, he finds Puck sitting in the chair that his father occupied previously. The others are gone, and Kurt groggily tries to piece together how long he’s been asleep. Once Puck seems to realize he is awake, he leans forward anxiously, his face furrowing in lines of concern.
“Hey man, you with me this time?”
“I think so.”
“Good, because I’ve been trying to apologize for like three hours, and each time I think you’re awake, you mumble a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense and fall back asleep.”
“Why are you trying to apologize?” Kurt asks. His head still feels a little muzzy and he vaguely wonders just what is coursing through his veins at the moment.
“If I hadn’t kept you outside, if I had just agreed to go in with Finn and Sam--”
“That’s stupid.” Kurt says before he can stop himself. Puck looks startled and Kurt just starts talking. “I’m sure Finn is the one who put that idea in your head, but let me reassure you, it’s no one’s fault, except probably my own.” He shifts uncomfortably. “You know, this was the first time I’d had a snowball fight since I was seven. I’ve had snowballs thrown at me before, but it was the first time it wasn’t because someone was trying to demean me.”
“Still, you got hurt because you were running from me. You messed up your knee and you cut your head and god Kurt, you got stabbed by an icicle, those things have been known to kill people!” And that sparks off part of one of his memories. He smiles slightly.
“My dad said that same thing when I was about four and an icicle fell off the room and hit my face. My dad blamed himself too, said he should have been watching me closer. Not exactly sure what either of you thought you could have done to stop it.”
“I could have dragged you inside instead of chasing you around your front yard.”
“We were having a good time.” Kurt says. He is feeling tired again, but he thinks this needs to be said. “I appreciated that you guys wanted to include me. Yeah, we could have stopped when Finn and Sam did. You could have just been playing along for their sake. I’m sure you could have caught me more than once, but you didn’t. Which makes me think you were just having a good time, like I was. No one could have known what was going to happen. No one’s to blame but myself. If I had been paying closer attention to where I was going and what I was doing and less to where you were, I’d have noticed where my feet where going.”
“I…I mean Finn was right though. If he had dragged you inside, your wouldn’t be in the hospital.” Kurt mumbles something Puck can’t make out and he eyes the thick blankets and warming saline being dripped into Kurt.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“But, I do.” Puck admits. “And it’s kinda pissing me off.”
“Sorry?” Kurt isn’t really sure how else to respond to that and Puck lets out a frustrated breath.
“We aren’t supposed to be friends, it’s not supposed to work like that, but somehow…damn it Kurt, somehow you made me think of you as a friend and yeah I worry and you’re hurt. Like bad, and I feel responsible and I’m fairly certain everyone else blames me, and--”
Kurt cuts him off with a hand on his arm and a slight smile, because Puck is kind of funny when he gets nervous. He rambles, and it is kind of amusing. Still, Kurt doesn’t think he needs to shoulder the blame for what happened. It was a freak accident.
“Would you still be here if you didn’t feel guilty?” Kurt asks.
“Of course I would.” Puck seems offended by the implication he wouldn’t be there otherwise.
“Well then, that settles it. Everything’s fine now. You aren’t to blame for my lack of coordination or the fact that we were just having a good time. In fact if you really need someone to blame, either blame me, or blame Finn, he started the whole thing anyhow.”
“I like the way you think Hummel.” Puck says with a laugh. Kurt smiles slightly.
“If you want, to spite him, I’ll let you sign my maybe needed cast first.” As Kurt drifts off to sleep, he can distinctly hear Puck laugh at the idea.