Metaphors and Dinosaurs - 1/3

[writer786]

Title: Metaphors and Dinosaurs
Author: writer786
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck, Kurt, OCs / Puck/Kurt
Genre: Romance/ Friendship
Warning: Um…dinosaur references?
Spoilers: Littlefoot is now a Puckasaurus.
Disclaimer: I didn’t live on the land before time. Wish I owned Glee and a penguin Tomtop, but sadly I own neither. Yet.
Author Notes: It says something that one could Puckurtify just about anything. Also, the title is from Mark Salling’s “Migration”.
Summary: After all these years, Kurt finds his Littlefoot. At the same time, Puck reunites with his Cera-tops.
Word Count: 5,070

~*~


The Golden Cup was a small, tucked away coffee shop in a small, out of the way plaza.

Puck literally stumbled across its threshold for the first time years ago, about two weeks after his old man hitched out and he’d tried to go after him.

Going on the fact that it had been raining like a bitch and that Puck was eight, having never been allowed to venture past the street corner alone, and that he’d bolted from the house without his glasses and only his mom’s bathrobe and his favorite-but-totally-not-waterproof hat to shield him from the sky’s wrath, it’s safe to say that he hadn’t gotten far and appeared in the coffee shop looking like a drenched stray puppy. The shop’s owner, Jude, had been wiping down the tables for closing time, but as soon as she saw Puck she dropped the cloth, ushered a sniffling Puck to the back room, and swaddled him up with a random quilt and cup of cocoa without a word.

Safe to say, Puck had been regularly sneaking out to the shop ever since, rain or shine.

Or, in today’s case, insane snow from freaking Canada.

It was the first day of the year that homeless people believed aliens from the secret planet Nibiru were coming to help the apes flip Earth’s magnetic poles, or some shit like that - even though Sam technically wasn’t homeless anymore, and Puck was pretty sure he’d just mentally overlapped some of the conversations from the last day before winter break. Whatever.

Anyway, it was New Year’s Day, 2012, and Puck was sitting with his usual mug of cocoa and plate of waffles - which Jude had added to the menu as soon as she realized Puck would become her most devout customer - at his usual table by the cream and sugar and stuff.

Huh.

Glancing at the sweeteners, he remembered how he’d used to sneak out pocketfuls of the Equal, until his mom found the copious amount of empty packets in the trash and admonished him saying it was the crap morticians used to embalm dead people, which wasn’t something a ten old ever wanted to hear. After that, he took it upon himself to monitor how many packets of sugar people took and told them about the sugar-stuffed dead guys if someone took too many. It used to be cute of him or something, until he showed up one day without his glasses, sporting a mohawk and the name “Puck”, and some people looked at him like some creepy stalker juvenile delinquent who hung around the cozy coffee shop.

Jude, like the first day she met him, hadn’t said anything, just passed him his cocoa. If she topped it with more whipped cream than usual for whatever reason then - well it’s not like he would ever complain.

Anyway - god, this weather was messing with his head - today was the first of January, and some idiot weather man or Santa Clause or the Hanukkah Armadillo decided Lima, Ohio just hadn’t received enough snow yet, so they decided to take a huge, frosty dump on the loser town. Puck didn’t mind; he actually loved the snow, but…he’d feel very dumb if he was to go out there and play in it alone.

His mom was on shift at the hospital - because sick people don’t give a damn about the new year if they’re gonna die without seeing it through - and Sarah was at a friends house - because even though Jews don’t celebrate the New Year on the same day as most people, Sarah was eleven and liked any excuse to party. Jonah, his older brother, predictably failed to shown up for the holidays this year, for the fourth year in row. And his savta was, well, a grandma.

The whole situation was squat, so it was safe to say that Puck would feel very dumb and honestly, very lonely if he was to go out in the snow alone. He hadn’t been in contact with anyone from the Glee club because unlike his, their families weren’t that muffed up, and he knew they were all probably doing some bonding stuff, and he still respected families.

He knew Jude’s daughter Jade, or even Jude herself, would offer to go out there with him, just because they were practically his other family by now. But it was surprisingly busy today at the Golden Cup, probably because too many people were trying to leave Lima with not enough plows to clear the highways quick enough, and also the fact that Golden Cup was the only shop open in that area. Which meant that Jude, Jade, and Jade’s friend Kylie barely had enough time to make sure Puck’s mug remained hot and full, let alone joke around with him while working like they usually did.

Oh, Puck wasn’t inconsiderate. He wouldn’t mind helping out. In the ten years he’d been going there, he’d become an unpaid kind of employee, a volunteer - the kind that wiped down the tables and mopped the floors and restocked the sugar things and updated the white board behind the counter if Jade ever let him, and he even helped decorate for the holidays if Kylie ever let him.

Again, Golden Cup was small, so usually only one of the women was on shift, especially since Jade and Kylie lived on campus at the university and their schedule was erratic. Which meant that Jude was usually the only one there, which didn’t sit right with Puck at all because, really, all three of the women were attractive - and although Puck more than occasionally flirted with either of them, they all knew nothing was serious because again, they were like family - and he admitted to being a bit of a worrier.

Like, what if some bastard stumbled in at closing time, like Puck had done years ago, only he was drunk and thought he could get some kind of sugar other than the blue packets of Equal from the girls ‘cause they were alone? Hell no. Not if Puck had any say, which he damn well did.

And so, in addition to the cleaning and his honorary ‘Puck’s Waffles’ on the menu board, as well as always picking up the tab despite the girls’ protests, Puck served as the Golden Cup’s unofficial guard dog. And because he refused any money from Jude as she was still helping pay Jade’s tuition and he wasn’t that much of a jackass and he was pretty sure it’d be illegal or something anyway, they always subtly-but-not-unnoticed-by-Puck gave him a little more than what he paid for. But, come on. It’s not like he was looking for it and besides.

Waffles.

He wasn’t going to complain, like, ever.

All that to say: on busy days like today, Puck was more than willing and available to help out around the shop. Except, Kylie joked about him taking her job and that Jude wouldn’t pay her and even though he knew she was teasing and that Jude would still pay her - and would even pay Puck too if he’d let her - he didn’t want to be a home-wrecker…or job-wrecker or whatever.

And yeah he knew that, the home-wrecker thing? A sailed ship and all that stuff, but just shut up ‘cause he wasn’t even getting into that right now.

What he was getting at was that for today he was assigned unofficial-guard-dog duty. As usual, it wasn’t, like, official or anything. But he was there because even though all three of the women were on shift which was rare, it was New Year’s Day, and he wasn’t even being sexist against lady-strength or paranoid or anything because New Year drunks were a whole other threat-concept altogether. The girls knew that too, and they’d said nothing about his defensive scowl when he’d walked in that morning and immediately assumed his ‘Duh, I’m a badass’ unofficial-guard-post by the sugar table.

They’d had a lot to say about his general appearance though.

Because apparently, according to Jade, he’d have to ‘work really hard’ if he expected to be ‘paid for his services’ today wearing something like that.

But according to Kylie, Jade didn’t know what she was talking about, but she should’ve known that all badass studs nowadays wore super geeky glasses because the bigger the lenses, right?

And oh, in that case, Jade thought, the longer the flippers too, yeah?

And then they’d laughed, and Puck had so not blushed - he’d still been chilled from the freezing wind outside - and he put on a show of flipping one of the long flippers over his shoulder because yeah, his were the biggest and the longest in Lima so they could suck it.

And then as the girls had laughed some more, Jude came out from the back room with the waffle maker, took one look at Puck and grinned. Puck took solace in the way her perfectly aged face lit up with the expression, and he felt considerably less embarrassed that he’d had to break his self-established rule that studs don’t need to wear hats in a bit of cold weather. Because it wasn’t just cold, it was fucking freezing, and he wasn’t that stupid so he’d dug around in the back of his closet for the favorite hat he’d abandoned years ago - which also hadn’t fit with his new ‘badass’ image.

Plus, he still loved the hat.

And he would never admit it to anyone but he’d always been secretly hoping to have an excuse to be able to wear it again before graduation.

It was a Tomtop hat, the black and white baby penguin one with its cute little bluish eyes too close to its orange beak, and its flippers that acted like earmuffs but dangled all the way down for him to slide his hands into like mittens too. And it was crazy-fuzzy-soft and warm and he’d always thought it was adorable, but if you tell anyone he’d probably have to hurt you, or get the Nibiru ape dudes to shove the magnetic poles up your ass; Happy New Year.

He’d gotten it as a gift like, a billion years ago, but he hadn’t seen the lady who gave it to him since about the same time his bastard father decided a wife and two-almost-three children wasn’t enough. She’d been the mom of his best friend from his childhood, way before Finn, for the forever up until his old man left, and that’s when Puck’s memories started to blur. He doesn’t remember seeing his ‘bestest friend since before time’ since then either, and he eventually, heartbrokenly guessed that their family had moved. Looking back, he’d always worn that baby-penguin hat, up until the night he tried going after his dad, which was actually around the same night he’d last seen his best friend, come to think of it.

Huh.

Anyway, now he was wearing the hat, and the flippers no longer dangled by his shins which meant that it actually fit like it should after all these years.

He was also wearing his glasses, which he’d deemed un-badass along with the baby-penguin hat, but still occasionally had to use when reading - which he never did at school or anywhere in public really, so it wasn’t like anyone besides his family would know. He didn’t even like to wear them in the shop anymore, and Jude was the only one working on the few occasions he did on days like today. When the weather was shitty and he couldn’t see crap even with the glasses on.

And honestly, Puck liked to see. Duh.

So, it was today, January 1, 2012 (he was probably reminding himself of the date because damn, it was 2012), that Puck wore both his large, thick black rimmed glasses and baby-penguin Tomtop hat in public for the first time in…yeah, a while, with a mob of people coming and going and totally able to tell whoever else. But for some reason, Puck just didn’t care. He could just say he was being festive or something, if the bastards had a problem with an eighteen year old being comfortable for once in a long time.

His usually exposed head was actually warm, despite the number of times the door had been opened all day, blasting in gusts of spine-numbing, snow-flaked air each and every time with the scent of purest winter on the wind. He was able to see clearly, could make out the individual flakes outside the window that were finally starting to slow in their nearly frantic decent, freaking ice-age.

Slowly but surely, the stream of customers started to calm too,  and Puck actually had the time to take away from thoughts of drunken goat faces and focus on his itch to be outside.

He loved when the flakes were fat and fluffy like they were now and he could just stand out there, tilt his head back, exposing his face to the sobering gray sky and letting the white crystals stick to his eyelashes, his cheeks, feeling them melt. Snow always falls quietly, something he’d noticed years ago while he was sitting on the stoop, waiting for the best friend that never came to play in the snow with him. He loved to look up and spin in circles until the white sky blurred and the falling flakes twisted in their shower, warping his little-bubble and making it as if he was in a snow globe.

He loved to fall on the ground, cushioned by a flurry of fluffy whiteness kicked up in his wake, and just lay there, listening to the snow’s silence. He wanted to do that now, go out there and lay in the quiet white, away from the low hum of coffee-drinkers and music and the smell of coffee and peppermint and the faint scent of beer. But. He couldn’t. Unofficial-guard duty, remember?

Yeah it kind of sucked, like, big time. But whatever, because here came Jade with another plate of waffles and fresh cup of cocoa. It was pretty much what he’d been living on all winter break, considering his frequent at the Golden Cup.

“Thanks Jade, babe.” He said with a small but genuine smile. He didn’t know how long he’d been staring out the window but it had been long enough for the forgotten half of his cocoa to go cold. He wasn’t one to waste, not with how generous the girls were, and he usually drank or ate all of whatever they gave him, which meant that he’d be taking the cold cocoa home in a to-go cup. Because if you think Jude’s homemade cocoa tasted the same as chocolate milk when cold? You’re wrong, it was way awesomer.

Whoa. Hey. Freaking awesome New Year’s epiphany.

“You’re welcome, Flipper.” Jade said with an answering smile, tugging on one of his hat’s flippers. Puck always sort of appreciated the fact that she never wore much makeup; she was a pretty woman without it, especially when she smiled. She got her Korean-American facial features from Jude, her dark eyes always smiling, and she kept her long, dark and wavy hair back in a high ponytail whenever she was on shift. “Anything else I can get for you, stud?”

Puck started to shake his head, but then stopped. His epiphany. “Actually Jay, could you take this back and pour it over some ice? I want to try something.”

Jade’s smile twisted slightly to form an incredulous expression as she stared at him for a moment, like she was trying to figure something out - like she wasn’t one of the only people who might have known him better than himself. But then, her dark eyes flickered to take in his overall appearance and she tugged once more, smiling again.

“You’re so weird Flipper,” and yeah, she’d been calling him that all day, “but sure. One cocoa on the rocks, coming right up!”

She took his dirty plate and the hot chocolate with her to the back room, probably to get the ice from the freezer because it wasn’t like anybody else had been insane enough to order a cold drink on a day like today.

Puck just started tucking into his fresh stack of waffles - with the perfect amount of pure maple syrup and a side dollop of whipped cream - when Kylie called out from where she was making a person’s decaf behind the counter.

“Hey, Clark Kent,” because she insisted on a nickname too, and he told her he preferred to be Superman than that physics-nerd-guy Leonard from Big Bang Theory. “Be a hero and restock the crack packets, would you?”

Puck just sort of shook his head in disbelief because seriously, he didn’t think you were supposed to refer to the sugar as crack around customers, because somebody could call the cops or the health department or, hell, just come in with a druggie mob or something to raid the joint. On the other hand, it could attract more business if it got out that the Golden Cup’s sugar was actually sleet - kind of how his pot-cakes that one time sold like cupcakes with pot in them because, hey, that’s what they were, so whatever.

He liked that Kylie was like that though, not giving a shit what anybody else thought. She was her own kind of badass. While Jade exuded a sophisticated yet seductive air about her, Kylie was a bit radical. Her hair, for instance, was currently the color of fire. She’d started with the yellow months ago, slowly progressed into the orange, before topping it off with fire engine red that looked like something else in a certain light.

None of them, not even Kylie herself, could remember what her natural hair color was. When eleven-year old Puck first met her, her hair had been black and white and he’d called her Cruella up until she dyed it all bright pink. She’d alternated solid colors throughout high school until she graduated with a rainbow, and then started from scratch with white and progressed through shades of each color at a time, complimenting her look with an all black wardrobe that wasn’t depressing at all because she was Kylie. Today, Kylie’s black ensemble, flaming hair, and smoky eyeshadow made it look as if she was a smoldering coal or something behind the counter making coffee.

As he carried the new box of sugar to the table, he acknowledged that Kylie’s hair was fierce, badass, and most of all a symbol of warmth despite Mother Nature’s hissy fit.

Not as fierce, badass, and warm as his penguin hat though.

His back had only been turned for a minute when Puck heard the little door bells chime and felt a short gust of wind sweep against the back of his knees. It was the first new customer they’d had in about an hour - more people had started leaving the shop than entering when the snow started to let up - and he didn’t think any more hung-over cases would still be coming in at this hour, so he kind of shrugged it off and continued arranging the sweeteners alphabetically. Only, then he realized he always looked for blue when he reached for the Equal, so he started rearranging them by color.

As he did this, he could pick up on the telltale sound of rubber soles being wiped dry on the doormat. But because so many people had been tracking in snow and soaking the rug, the boots still squelched and squeaked a bit when they hit the bare floor. Puck listened to the approaching footsteps as whoever it was made their way across the shop to the counter. At first, the steps were sure and somewhat hurried as the person probably really wanted something hot to drink, if the huff of relief he’d heard as the shop’s warmth welcomed the person was any indication. But then, strangely, there was a faltering in the rhythm as whoever it was passed behind him. And then, the steps stopped altogether.

And Puck’s automatic thought was ‘he’d better not be stealing my waffles!’, because this one time, Kylie and Jade somehow got the stupid idea that it would be fun to steal his waffles while he was lifting a heavy box of new shipment for Jude. Safe to say that a twelve-year old Puck without waffles was not a happy Puck. ‘Puck’s Waffles’ were Puck’s waffles, after all.

But for now, Puck brushed off that territorial thought just as he brushed some spilled sugar left by some careless inconsiderate from the table into his palm - a perfectly good waste of embalming cocaine in his opinion - and didn’t think too much of it. Whoever it was probably just stopped to look at the assortment of exotic teas and authentic coffee beans on the shelves of the opposite wall, or something. Puck often helped arrange them there, since he’d grown taller than any of the older women, and he thought he’d done a decent job. Even Jude complimented the ‘bold and daring’ effect of spilling some coffee beans out of the little sack in a deliberately careless manner. ‘Aesthetically pleasing to the eye’, whatever that meant. Some kind of Feng shui?

Anyway, Puck figured it was no big deal that he didn’t know who was standing behind him for whatever reason. Still, as he brushed the sugar from his hand into the shiny garbage can next to the table - like the person who spilled it couldn’t take five seconds to do that - he couldn’t help but feel that he should turn around. Like he was being watched or something. And yeah, he bragged that he was the sexiest piece of eye-candy in Lima, but…you probably couldn’t tell while he was wearing the penguin-hat and glasses. Which meant that maybe the person was staring at his head, which was kind of annoying because he could wear a fucking Tomtop if he wanted to, damn it.

Puck briefly debated whether or not to tell the person off - because he’d already gotten enough weird looks today - and he decided to just settle for his usual ‘piss off’ scowl, despite any lack of real menace because, come on, how menacing can you be in a fluffy baby-penguin hat?

With said expression prepared, Puck turned around, expecting for the person to either have the balls to laugh to his face or to cower away, hoping for the latter because all he really wanted to do was finish his waffles, and what was taking Jade so damn long to pour hot chocolate over some friggin ice?

What he wasn’t expecting was to hear a gasp and suddenly have an armful of clinging, breathlessly excited person, calling him a name that he hadn’t been called in years, and thought he’d never be called again.

“Littlefoot. My Littlefoot.”

~*~

Yeah. Littlefoot.

As in, Littlefoot, the “Longneck” from that old cartoon series, the Land Before Time. And if you don’t know what that is then you should be ashamed because it’s this awesome thing with dinosaurs and adventure and singing and friendship - and you can shut up about it or he could go Sharptooth all over your face, screw Sam’s apes with their magnetic poles.

Because yeah, he realized that to all the losers on the outside who didn’t know shit, the fact that he’d seen each of the eight movies plus the two sing-along videos at least ten times each was completely un-badass. But that there was his childhood.

That best friend he’d mentioned before? They’d used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, and the first three Land Before Time movies had been the best thing since…hell, since before time, just like their friendship. Younger than eight years old, they used to study the scientific names for every dinosaur they could find a picture of; they used to have more dinosaur figurines than Barbie dolls (which, shut the fuck up), and they’d used to put their Power Rangers through a ton of different Jurassic Park-esque adventures, because yeah they’d obviously watched Jurassic Park back then too. Dinosaurs had been their thing.

But, the Land Before Time? That had been like their freaking Spongebob, except a lot less idiotic, if somewhat cheesy (like, as Puck re-watched them years later he’d noticed how creepy some of the facial expressions were). And they’d watched it so often and gotten so into it… God, Puck missed that. Not even his Mario-thing with Finn had ever run so deep, it was insane.

In the series, Littlefoot was an Apatosaurus who’d been separated from his father, and his mother had been killed, so he’d been raised by his grandparents. He was level-headed and big-hearted; he cared for those close to him and took on a natural leadership role, but still expressed something of innocence and was sometimes hesitant. The first friend Littlefoot ever made was a “Three Horn”, or Triceratops, named Cera.

Cera had been raised by her single father, who’d taught her to never show weakness, so Cera always exuded an air of confidence and slight arrogance, bigoted toward other species, as she hid her vulnerability. But when the two became friends, they balanced each other out: Littlefoot eased Cera’s temper and saw through her rough exterior, and Cera supported Littlefoot and protected his heart from the cruel world they lived in.

Shut up, he knew how lame that sounded but…just shut up.

The point was, Littlefoot and Cera stuck together to the end, no matter what happened, no matter their differences. And that was how Puck had been with his bestest-best friend, since before time - he, practically the opposite of his present-self back then, and his friend, what he kind of is now - always together. So they’d taken to calling each other after their favorite characters, and Puck had been Littlefoot.

But…their parents had been the only other people who’d known. Then Puck’s old man left, and his ma just wasn’t sentimental about that time of their lives because of said bastard. And then “Cera” and his mom (Puck never saw much of his dad because of work) were gone, taking the last hopes of the endearment with them. Needless to say, Puck never thought he’d hear the name again.

But apparently 2012 truly was the transferring of reality into the Twilight Zone, because here he was.

Being called “Littlefoot, my Littlefoot”, in a voice that he felt would’ve been familiar if the person’s face hadn’t been buried in his chest.

“Oh, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much! Where have you been? I can’t…god; I can’t believe it’s you…”

Puck was still standing there, blinking out of his reverie and down at the top of the person’s head. They were wearing a winter hat, which seemed to radiate with cold air that smelled familiarly of the snow outside, and it reminded Puck of his longing to be out there for the briefest second before he refocused. It also smelled like a shampoo that he felt like he’d smelled many times before, but it had been a while and he couldn’t place it. Was it really the scent of…his best friend?

Nah, it couldn’t have been. His best friend was gone, long gone. Up and left without any warning, just like his father. Left him sitting there on the stoop in the snow all those years ago with nobody to play with because Puck devoted so much attention to his bestest-best friend that he hadn’t had many other friends yet. Left him with the hanging promise of a Land Before Time marathon because Puck had still been confused about his father leaving. Left him to attempt and fail at nursing his own heart that had been too big for his small body.

Left him wondering what he’d done wrong.

He’d always wondered what he would say or do if he ever met his old friend again. He’d told himself that he would punch the guy for being an inconsiderate douche and for just leaving and forgetting him so easily like that because he thought what they’d had was special. He’d told himself that too much would’ve happened in the past ten years and that they could never be the same if they ever met again. He’d told himself that it didn’t even matter anyway because if his old friend had really gotten out of Lima, and Puck obviously hadn’t meant much to him, then there was no reason the guy would ever come back and therefore an unlikely chance that they would ever meet again.

And yet, here he was.

And there was a moment in which Puck doubted that the guy was really his best friend because one, how could the guy even recognize him in his hat and glasses and two, his friend had never been this tall. But then his rational mind reminded him that one, he’d always, always worn his hat and glasses around his best friend because his friend once told him he liked the glasses, and you already know about the hat. Two, no shit his friend hadn’t been as tall because duh, that was a decade ago. Plus, as he’d already established, nobody else knew about the nickname.

Littlefoot.

So if he overlooked the fact that it was almost impossible that they would meet up now, in the Golden Cup of all places, after all those years, Puck realized that it was entirely plausible since it was now 2012. The year his world would be turned upside-down.

And there was really only one thing he could think to say in his position.

“Wait. Cera…Cera-tops?”

The person’s arms tightened around his waist, and Puck could feel the guy’s body shiver, and it sent a chill through his own chest. Then the person seemed to inhale deeply, as if preparing for something, and Puck felt something block half of his throat as he realized that he couldn’t remember what his best friend’s face looked like - since his ma had also possibly destroyed all of their photo albums. His brow furrowed in an unconscious defensive expression as he braced himself. And then the person tilted their head back to look him in the eyes.

And it was possible that the world had already ended because this actually couldn’t have been happening at all.

Because, what the actual loving fuck?

Cera.

Cera, his Cera-tops, Cera. Wasn’t.

“…Kurt?”

Part II