As If We Never Said Goodbye
Title: As If We Never Said Goodbye
Author: yourebrilliant
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death (not either of the boys)
Summary: Mercedes is not going to like this place. Until she finds a few familiar faces.
‘I’m just gonna talk to the director for a bit, mom,’ her daughter says, hand gentle on her arm, ‘why don’t you have a look around. See if you like it.’
Mercedes is not going to like it. It’s a nursing home. Doesn’t matter that it’s quite a posh home, nicely furnished and not serving any of that canteen food she remembers so well, it’s still gonna be a big, boring building full of old people playing canasta and bridge until they all fade into nothingness in their easy chairs.
‘Well,’ a voice says behind her, and she should know that voice, but it’s been a long time and it’s a little breathier than it once was, ‘it has been too long since there was someone else this fabulous in this old building.’
She turns and squeals at the sight of her old friend - she may be eighty years old outside, but she’s still just a girl inside - and sweeps him up in her arms. ‘You are still too skinny, white boy,’ she says, squeezing him closer.
‘It’s been years since anyone called me a boy,’ he comments, squeezing back and, good, he’s still strong, she couldn’t bear to have him be one of those husks.
‘I called you “boy” this morning,’ a woman says, sharp as ever, and Mercedes pulls back with wide eyes.
‘Sorry,’ Kurt retorts, ‘I should have said, it’s been years since anyone with a soul called me a boy.’
Santana rolls her eyes and it is bizarre, Mercedes thinks, to see her without a Cheerios uniform on, even if none of them have been cheerleaders for longer than she cares to count. ‘Souls are underrated. Hey, girl,’ she says to Mercedes, ‘you comin’ to join us and dilute the white count for me?’
‘You know it,’ Mercedes says. Before they can continue they hear a shrill voice that Mercedes never expected to hear up-close again.
‘Kurt! Santana! We need to rehearse!’ Rachel calls. She sweeps into rooms now, instead of stomping, and some style guru has managed to talk her out of animal sweaters - either that or Kurt made good on his promise to burn them at some point - but she’s still the same. ‘Mercedes!’ she squeals, seeing her and flings her arms out. ‘Finally!’ she cries, hugging her and still talking a million miles a minute. ‘With the addition of your diva soul power we’ll actually stand a chance of beating Jesse this year.’
‘Beating Jesse?’ Mercedes asks, staring, bewildered, back at Kurt and Santana as Rachel, still with more strength than her small frame should allow, drags her through to a sun-filled anteroom.
‘St James set up a rival choir at a different nursing home,’ Santana informs her.
‘They’ve been competing for the last sixty-odd years,’ Kurt adds, ‘I guess they figured there was no reason age should stop them.’
Mercedes gasps, and drops Rachel’s hand as she gets her first full look at the room. It’s a different room, warm and well-furnished, and they’re all older, more inclined to sit in comfortable chairs than jump around, and with crow’s feet where their skin used to be smooth, but the sight of them all draped around and bickering fondly is still so familiar that she might just as well have wandered back into the McKinley choir room. If she hadn’t been to his funeral years ago, she’d expect Mr Shue to stride in at any minute with his ever-present folder of inappropriate white rap songs and nineties pop.
There is a moment before they notice her and then they’re all surging towards her, every one of them beaming and she ends up in the kind of group hug she hasn’t felt in far too long. She grins at them, reaching out to touch each face, making sure they really are all there. Until, she realises that there are a couple of faces missing, and turns back to Kurt.
‘Where’s…’ she starts, and tails off, unsure how to ask if Kurt’s beloved husband is…still around. Before she can form the words, however, there is a crash and a wheelchair comes barrelling through one of the wooden doors, loud enough to make Kurt wince, and nearly crashing into them before Kurt grabs the arms and braces it. Blaine just smiles and pecks him on the lips before bounding up out the chair and turning back to call out ‘Still the winner!’ to Puck, who skids to a stop just behind him.
‘I haven’t figured out how, Frodo, but I know you cheated!’ Puck is yelling. ‘No one with arms that small should be able to beat the Puckzilla.’
Blaine lifts his arms and kisses the muscles, just as dorky as he was last time Mercedes saw him.
‘Dad,’ a woman says behind them, and Mercedes can see her parentage as soon as she turns around, ‘couldn’t you pretend to act your age?’
‘You’re only as old as you feel,’ Blaine says, grinning at his daughter. ‘And I still feel young enough to do this.’ He boosts himself up on the arm of a couch and steps up onto the back.
‘No residents on the furniture!’ A nurse calls, and the hair’s not right but those are Hummel eyes.
‘Sorry, Sandy,’ Blaine waves, sliding down the cushions to sit on the seat.
‘And my name is not Sandy, Grandpa,’ the nurse adds.
‘I’ve been calling you Sandy since you were born with that shade of hair,’ Blaine retorts, dragging Kurt, with a yelp, down onto the couch to sit next to him. ‘I’m not going to change now.’
‘He’s never going to change,’ Kurt comments, straightening his waistcoat fastidiously, ‘and I, for one, am glad of it.’
Blaine beams and kisses him passionately.
‘Ew,’ Sandy says, wrinkling her nose and turning away, her small smile betraying her inner amusement at their adorable behaviour. ‘Come on, Mom,’ she says, shooing her mother towards the door. ‘You shouldn’t even still be here, visiting hours are over.’
‘I just wanted my coat, dear,’ her mother comments mildly.
‘And now you have it,’ Sandy retorts, guiding her mother to the entrance, their voices fading as they move further away.
‘So,’ Mercedes comments, turning back to the group and nudging Kurt and Blaine apart with her hip, so she can get an answer, ‘I’m guessing their family connections are how y’all scored a place in the same home?’
‘Mostly it’s ‘cause we all seem relatively sane one-on-one,’ Finn comments. ‘By the time they realised what they were letting themselves in for, most of us were already here.’
‘Here you are,’ Mercedes daughter says, smiling politely when she realises her mother has company. ‘So,’ she says, ‘think you’ll be okay here?’
Mercedes looks around at her old friends and grins. ‘Oh yes, honey, I’ll be just fine here.’
Author: yourebrilliant
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death (not either of the boys)
Summary: Mercedes is not going to like this place. Until she finds a few familiar faces.
‘I’m just gonna talk to the director for a bit, mom,’ her daughter says, hand gentle on her arm, ‘why don’t you have a look around. See if you like it.’
Mercedes is not going to like it. It’s a nursing home. Doesn’t matter that it’s quite a posh home, nicely furnished and not serving any of that canteen food she remembers so well, it’s still gonna be a big, boring building full of old people playing canasta and bridge until they all fade into nothingness in their easy chairs.
‘Well,’ a voice says behind her, and she should know that voice, but it’s been a long time and it’s a little breathier than it once was, ‘it has been too long since there was someone else this fabulous in this old building.’
She turns and squeals at the sight of her old friend - she may be eighty years old outside, but she’s still just a girl inside - and sweeps him up in her arms. ‘You are still too skinny, white boy,’ she says, squeezing him closer.
‘It’s been years since anyone called me a boy,’ he comments, squeezing back and, good, he’s still strong, she couldn’t bear to have him be one of those husks.
‘I called you “boy” this morning,’ a woman says, sharp as ever, and Mercedes pulls back with wide eyes.
‘Sorry,’ Kurt retorts, ‘I should have said, it’s been years since anyone with a soul called me a boy.’
Santana rolls her eyes and it is bizarre, Mercedes thinks, to see her without a Cheerios uniform on, even if none of them have been cheerleaders for longer than she cares to count. ‘Souls are underrated. Hey, girl,’ she says to Mercedes, ‘you comin’ to join us and dilute the white count for me?’
‘You know it,’ Mercedes says. Before they can continue they hear a shrill voice that Mercedes never expected to hear up-close again.
‘Kurt! Santana! We need to rehearse!’ Rachel calls. She sweeps into rooms now, instead of stomping, and some style guru has managed to talk her out of animal sweaters - either that or Kurt made good on his promise to burn them at some point - but she’s still the same. ‘Mercedes!’ she squeals, seeing her and flings her arms out. ‘Finally!’ she cries, hugging her and still talking a million miles a minute. ‘With the addition of your diva soul power we’ll actually stand a chance of beating Jesse this year.’
‘Beating Jesse?’ Mercedes asks, staring, bewildered, back at Kurt and Santana as Rachel, still with more strength than her small frame should allow, drags her through to a sun-filled anteroom.
‘St James set up a rival choir at a different nursing home,’ Santana informs her.
‘They’ve been competing for the last sixty-odd years,’ Kurt adds, ‘I guess they figured there was no reason age should stop them.’
Mercedes gasps, and drops Rachel’s hand as she gets her first full look at the room. It’s a different room, warm and well-furnished, and they’re all older, more inclined to sit in comfortable chairs than jump around, and with crow’s feet where their skin used to be smooth, but the sight of them all draped around and bickering fondly is still so familiar that she might just as well have wandered back into the McKinley choir room. If she hadn’t been to his funeral years ago, she’d expect Mr Shue to stride in at any minute with his ever-present folder of inappropriate white rap songs and nineties pop.
There is a moment before they notice her and then they’re all surging towards her, every one of them beaming and she ends up in the kind of group hug she hasn’t felt in far too long. She grins at them, reaching out to touch each face, making sure they really are all there. Until, she realises that there are a couple of faces missing, and turns back to Kurt.
‘Where’s…’ she starts, and tails off, unsure how to ask if Kurt’s beloved husband is…still around. Before she can form the words, however, there is a crash and a wheelchair comes barrelling through one of the wooden doors, loud enough to make Kurt wince, and nearly crashing into them before Kurt grabs the arms and braces it. Blaine just smiles and pecks him on the lips before bounding up out the chair and turning back to call out ‘Still the winner!’ to Puck, who skids to a stop just behind him.
‘I haven’t figured out how, Frodo, but I know you cheated!’ Puck is yelling. ‘No one with arms that small should be able to beat the Puckzilla.’
Blaine lifts his arms and kisses the muscles, just as dorky as he was last time Mercedes saw him.
‘Dad,’ a woman says behind them, and Mercedes can see her parentage as soon as she turns around, ‘couldn’t you pretend to act your age?’
‘You’re only as old as you feel,’ Blaine says, grinning at his daughter. ‘And I still feel young enough to do this.’ He boosts himself up on the arm of a couch and steps up onto the back.
‘No residents on the furniture!’ A nurse calls, and the hair’s not right but those are Hummel eyes.
‘Sorry, Sandy,’ Blaine waves, sliding down the cushions to sit on the seat.
‘And my name is not Sandy, Grandpa,’ the nurse adds.
‘I’ve been calling you Sandy since you were born with that shade of hair,’ Blaine retorts, dragging Kurt, with a yelp, down onto the couch to sit next to him. ‘I’m not going to change now.’
‘He’s never going to change,’ Kurt comments, straightening his waistcoat fastidiously, ‘and I, for one, am glad of it.’
Blaine beams and kisses him passionately.
‘Ew,’ Sandy says, wrinkling her nose and turning away, her small smile betraying her inner amusement at their adorable behaviour. ‘Come on, Mom,’ she says, shooing her mother towards the door. ‘You shouldn’t even still be here, visiting hours are over.’
‘I just wanted my coat, dear,’ her mother comments mildly.
‘And now you have it,’ Sandy retorts, guiding her mother to the entrance, their voices fading as they move further away.
‘So,’ Mercedes comments, turning back to the group and nudging Kurt and Blaine apart with her hip, so she can get an answer, ‘I’m guessing their family connections are how y’all scored a place in the same home?’
‘Mostly it’s ‘cause we all seem relatively sane one-on-one,’ Finn comments. ‘By the time they realised what they were letting themselves in for, most of us were already here.’
‘Here you are,’ Mercedes daughter says, smiling politely when she realises her mother has company. ‘So,’ she says, ‘think you’ll be okay here?’
Mercedes looks around at her old friends and grins. ‘Oh yes, honey, I’ll be just fine here.’