Fic :: (Kurt/Puck) "just to see you smile"
Title: just to see you smile
Pairing: Kurt/Puck
Rating: R (for situation and violence)
Summary: Kurt comes home for vacation and runs into Karofsky. Literally.
Author's Notes: Pinch hit for Chrismukkuh fest over at for soblonde1202
Warning: More violent than I usually write, but not by much.
Beta: carolinecrane not only dealt with me pinch hitting in FOUR DAYS but she didn't actually kill me, so tha tis worth a medal or something. Over 8.5k as well. And she didn't kill me! ;)
I post it here, even though it was already posted here because I am neurotic. Deal with it.
It was weird coming home to someplace that wasn’t actually his home. He’d seen all the pictures that his dad had sent him, the layout that Carole had sent in hopes of him helping her decorate and even a few pictures of Finn’s room but had yet to step into the place that was now where his … well… his family lived.
His dad had given him a key the last time they came to visit, along with an atrocious key ring that he’d immediately ‘lost’ in favor of a tasteful silver one that had the imprint of a house on top. He slipped it into the bottom lock and then into the top and had to shove a little to get it to work. Carole had warned him about that or else he would have feared that he was more or less breaking and entering.
As soon as he stepped in the door he took stock of his surroundings. It was definitely Brady Bunch-esque and he saw many trips to Crate and Barrel in his future but somehow that didn’t bother him. He felt relieved to just take a breath and not be at Dalton even for a few weeks for the holidays.
“Hello?” He called out. “Anyone home?”
He walked through the living room and into the kitchen to find Finn, Carole and Burt standing around the table. On the surface of the table there was a cupcake with a candle in the center.
“WELCOME HOME!” They called out in unison and when Finn shoved the cupcake at him, Kurt blew out the candle.
In a moment he was wrapped up in a huge hug from his dad, and then Carole. When it came to Finn there was a tentative handshake before Finn gave up and grabbed him into a bear hug.
“Welcome back.” Finn smiled, when they pulled back. “You hungry?”
Kurt laughed. “I missed you, too?”
“Let him get settled a bit.” Carole separated them. “And then we’ll go to dinner.”
*
Kurt really shouldn’t have been shocked when they ended up at Breadsticks, yet again. He was halfway sure that it was the only place in Lima anyone went … ever. But it was nice, being there.
The dinner itself felt comforting and familiar even if the four of them had only gone out as a family half a dozen times. There were moments when he doubted his decision to force Carole and Burt together but not when he was seated at a table sharing stupid jokes and rolling his eyes with Carole when Finn and his dad started talking about football like it was a religion. He hadn’t even realized he was homesick until that moment.
When their plates came to the table he smiled at the table. “I’m going to wash my hands. No one steal from my plate, got it?”
“Like I’d take your rabbit food,” Finn teased.
“I’ll remember that when prom comes along and I fit into my tux perfectly.” Kurt gave his most beatific smile as he got up from the table and made his way towards the back.
He hummed to himself, warm and happy and content. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed for it, looking down just long enough to bump straight into someone ahead of him.
“Sorry,” Kurt muttered to the brick house he’d bumped into. He paused and looked up. He had just enough time to place the feeling of discomfort on Karofsky’s face before he felt a blunt pang against his face followed by the room going completely dark.
When he woke back up he was on the floor of the diner, a sharp pain in his left eye and the complete inability to take a breath in through his nose. He forgot, for a moment or two, how he got there. He tried to lift himself up onto his elbows but felt two sets of hands that pushed him back down.
“Stay still,” Burt said, his voice less steady than Kurt would like it. He thought about chastising him about getting worked up but when he opened his mouth nothing beyond a feeble attempt at ‘Dad’ came out.
Carole’s voice came from somewhere above them, high and tight. “The ambulance is here.”
‘Ambulance?’ Kurt thought before the sudden image of a fist meeting his face and the look on Karofsky’s face came back to him. He felt sick to his stomach, afraid that if he actually did get sick he would choke on it. It was like his nightmares all coming to life.
A moment later the two sets of hands were off of him and new hands were on him, lifting him up and onto a gurney. He looked over to see Finn, Carole and Burt giving him a concerned look. He tried for a smile and lifted a hand and Burt came forward to grab his hand.
“I’m going with him,” Burt insisted.
“We’ll take the car,” Carole said behind him.
Everything went by too fast. The gurney moved and his dad was talking but he wasn’t listening. The EMT asked him questions and he tried to answer them.
“What hurts?”
Kurt would laugh if he weren’t scared it would hurt worse. He lifted a hand and made a circle around his left eye and nose, followed by the space on the right side of his forehead. Burt’s hand squeezed Kurt’s tightly.
Suddenly he started to feel the space around him begin to spin. He gripped his dad’s hand and the side of the gurney tightly. His eyes hurt, his stomach churned.
“Mr. Hummel?” The EMT asked. “Kurt?”
Before he could answer, it went dark.
*
He woke up to light being shined into his eyes and started to blink furiously. He heard the familiar sound of beeping that made him think of long waits and being at his father’s side. When he shifted he felt a tug of an IV. He blinked to get the spots out of his eyes and found that he could only see from his right eye. He blinked again and still nothing.
“How are you feeling?” Someone out of his line of vision asked, he turned to find a woman in hideous cat printed scrubs.
“I can’t see out of my left eye and I have a total migraine but other than that, I’m feeling great,” he snapped.
A hand landed on his and he turned to see Carole’s concerned face. He felt even guiltier for being so rude to the nice lady. He sighed and turned back.
“Sorry,” he said, a little sheepishly.
The woman put her hand on his wrist, which confused him until he realized she was taking his pulse. After a moment she smiled at him. “You’ve had a long night.”
“Why can’t he see?” Burt asked and again Kurt had to search around for where he was. Only seeing from one eye was making him kind of dizzy.
The woman paused for a moment. “Kurt, could you look at me?”
Kurt obliged, feeling just a little bit dizzy. He watched as she took the penlight out and let the two lights pass by his eyes. She bit the bottom of her lip and then took out a notepad from her pocket, writing something down and then put it back in her pocket.
“And you’re saying you have a headache?”
Kurt shook his head, which was a bad idea because it made his headache worse. “Migraine. I feel like I might get sick to my stomach. That might just be Breadstix> though.”
The entire room missed his attempt at humor, instead he was handed a pink kidney shaped container for him to puke. “If you get sick, try to get it in into here. We’re going to get you into an actual room as soon as possible. For now I’m going to give you some anti-inflammatory and morphine.”
“Wait,” Kurt asked, voice close to a whine. “I have to stay here tonight?”
The woman nodded. “At least. I’m afraid you might have a concussion from where your head hit the floor, and the loss of vision is a point of concern.”
Kurt wanted to cry, but couldn’t. Instead he closed his eyes and laid his head back. He felt Carole’s hand brush back the hair on his forehead.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. After nearly a decade of not having a mom, it was equal parts weird and comforting to have her there. Burt rubbed one of his legs; his inability to handle emotional situations was actually more comforting than Carole’s caring. It was familiar.
When he opened his eyes the woman had left and it was just Carole, Burt and him. He looked around for a moment and something clicked. “Where’s Finn?”
Burt tossed a look at Carole and then looked at Kurt. “Someone had to give a statement.”
“A statement?”
“To the cops,” Carole said, her voice soft and her thumb rubbing back and forth on his forehead. “About Dave.”
Not only could he feel his heart beating faster he could also hear it from the monitor beside him. He moved a little further up the bed and had trouble breathing. “He shouldn’t do that. They aren’t going to do anything and did he even see anything? What about if he gets cleared and he goes after Finn? He shouldn’t…”
“Kurt.” Burt moved around to be right beside Carole, the side he could see. “He can’t get away with it. More than one person witnessed it, including Finn. He’ll be safe, you’ll be safe.”
He was going to fight it. He wanted to fight it. Yet the morphine started to kick in and his skin began to feel warmer and his eyes heavier. He shifted to be closer to his parents and tried to sound as focused as possible.
“Get Finn, please,” he heard the slurring but went on. “Not worth it… Please. Get Finn.”
He didn’t fall asleep, but he did close his eyes. The pain was gone, which was a nice change of pace and he kept thinking that maybe he would wake up and it would be just another nightmare. He’d had enough nightmares featuring Karofsky in the last few months that it wasn’t that much of a stretch. He listened to the steady beeping of the machines and the concerned murmuring of Carole and Burt.
When the guy came to bring him up to his room it actually hit home that he wasn’t just dreaming. His eyes burned, but he still couldn’t cry. He could, though, throw up what little food he’d had on his ride home in the container given to him just a while ago.
*
The doctor who came in later on seemed to be incapable of smiling, which was okay with Kurt as he didn’t want to smile back. He’d been put through an x-ray, a CAT scan and they’d taken enough blood out of his pick line that he was surprised he still had any left.
“I’m Dr. Leeds, you must be Mr. Hummel,” he said, looking straight at Kurt and not at his father. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is this is not going to require surgery.”
“And the bad?”
“It appears that you have hyphema, which is going to require a long recovery time.”
Carole gasped audibly. “How long?”
“We have no idea. The damage mixed with the damage from your nose and your cheek means it could be prolonged.”
A hand landed on his and he looked down to find Finn holding his hand. He assumed it was the shock or maybe the painkillers but he was completely numb to all that was going on.
“I’m going to kill him,” Burt muttered, clear enough for everyone to hear.
Carole reacted first, tutting and putting her hand on his shoulder. “Burt, you know that won’t change anything besides put you in jail.”
“He’s eighteen now,” Finn said, a sickly satisfied smile on his face. “There were more than enough witnesses. He’s going to jail.”
Still, Kurt felt nothing. No joy or fear or even relief. He smiled slightly at his family, but that was all he could muster. He just nodded and assumed that the doctor knew what he was doing.
*
He sent everyone home once he got settled into his room. None of them listened, of course. His father came back to bring him a pillow and a blanket that would actually be bearable. Finn brought him his iPod but forgot the charger. Carole brought him snacks. But to be honest he just wanted to be alone.
Burt called again, before he went to bed and asked if there was anything else he wanted and he rattled off a list but added firmly that he didn’t need them the next day and not to come back. His dad in a hospital, even on the opposite side of the bed, was something he didn’t like seeing no matter what.
*
Kurt woke up to the sound of the TV, blinked for a moment and then rolled over to find Noah Puckerman with his legs up on Kurt’s bed flipping through the channels. He thought for a second it was some sort of morphine-induced hallucination but when Puck turned to look at him and his stomach turned to jelly he knew it had to be real.
“Took you long enough, Hummel.” Puck clicked the TV off. “You know how much crap is on day time TV?”
Kurt pointed to his eye patch. “Haven’t really been up to watching TV. Though if you insult Oprah I might harm you.”
“Chill out Black Bart, it’s like only like 11:30.”
Ignoring the fact that Puck might actually know what time Oprah was on, he went for the more pressing question. “What the heck are you doing here?”
“Finn said you’ve been bored out of your skull,” Puck replied like that was really an answer, stealing an M&M from the cup Carole had brought him the night before.
“I don’t need a baby sitter.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest indignantly.
Puck mimicked him. “And I’m not getting paid.”
When Puck went for more M&Ms Kurt grabbed them and moved them out of his reach. He hadn’t seen Puck since… well. Since Puck avoided him at sectionals. He wasn’t sure what emotions he was feeling towards Puck, but generous wasn’t one of them.
“So… you’re just visiting out of the kindness of your heart?” Kurt rolled his eyes.
Puck shrugged and dumped the few things he’d asked his dad for the day before onto the table in front of him. “If you’d rather I could call Santana or Quinn. I’m sure they’d love to come and berate you. Or Rachel. Since she and Finn are on the outs I bet you she’ll sing you a upbeat Rihanna or a Bright Eyes song.”
“Wait,” Kurt put up a finger. “Rachel and Finn broke up?”
“He’s your brother, dude.” Puck frowned. “Shouldn’t you know this before I do?”
Embarrassed, Kurt looked away. “Step brother, actually. And we haven’t actually had much time. You know, before I got my face smashed.”
“Let’s just say there was some truth revealed that messed with both sides,” Puck said, and when Kurt looked at him it was Puck who looked embarrassed. It was a new look on him, one that told Kurt not to push any further.
“Well,” Kurt searched for a subject to change to. “Anything else happen in New Directions since I’ve been gone?”
Puck half smiled and rubbed a hand over his Mohawk. “Sam and Quinn are an official thing now, same with Brittany and Artie. And for some reason Brittany still believes in Santa.”
“Sam and Quinn? Quinn’s not stringing him along?”
“I tell you Brittany believes in Santa and you get hung up on Duck Lips’ dating life?”
Kurt chuckled. “It’s Brittany, you could tell me she believed in leprechauns and it wouldn’t shock me. Knowing Brittany she probably does. Artie’s really dating her
“Yeah,” Puck nodded. “And somehow it works. I mean, they’re happy.”
Kurt tilted his head. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
The motion had his eye throbbing and he didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was about time for him to get another dosage of painkiller. He hesitated though, unsure of Puck staying or not if he interrupted them. It was bizarrely nice to have him there. He didn’t seem to be looking at him with pity like the others had and he had him laughing which was something he hadn’t felt like doing in the two days he’d been in the hospital.
“I … um. I need something for the pain,” Kurt admitted, pain winning out. “Want to see if my nurse is hot or not?”
It was an admittedly lame move on Kurt’s part but he could care less, he looked at Puck until Puck nodded his head and then pressed the button. It struck him that Puck was seeing him at his absolute worse. He hadn’t braved looking in a mirror since the surgery but he was pretty sure that he probably looked like hell, not to mention the lack of a bath.
While Puck watched the door, Kurt lifted a hand up to at least attempt to control his hair and was just thinking about how he could get a mirror out to assess the damage when a rather attractive looking male in scrubs walked in the room with a huge smile.
“Hey, I’m David,” David said as he washed his hands with the hand sanitizer that seemed to be everywhere. “You rang?”
“You’re not my nurse,” Kurt stuttered out. “I mean… um. What about Megan?”
David smiled. “Megan went home, I’m your nurse for the day. What can I get you?”
“He needs a fill up on his morphine,” Puck answered for him. “And you know, if you got any extra you can always…”
“Puck.” Kurt glared at him. “This isn’t a dispensary.”
David just laughed but then looked at the computer screen beside Kurt’s bed. “Wow, you really are due for a top up. Let me go get that for you. Anything else I can get while I’m out? Gatorade? Water? An extra pillow?”
Kurt shook his head. His dad had brought him a blanket and pillow from home first thing, so he was pretty well set. He watched as David left, his eyes drifting down to his ass appreciatively.
“Not bad,” Puck commented.
“Wha?”
Puck jerked his head towards the door. “Hot nurse? Not bad. I would have preferred a brunet but I guess everyone has their flaws.”
Kurt waited for the punch line, for Puck to laugh it off or to call him a queer.Puck leaned back in the chair and acted like he’d just commented on the weather or the latest sports score. He shrugged and steeped his hands in front of him.
Kurt felt his jaw drop slightly.
“Don’t you usually prefer the female kind?”
Puck shrugged again. “Blondes on girls, brunets on boys. Blue eyes either way.”
“What-“ he frowned and chickened out of the question about boys. “What about Santana?”
“Exception that proves the rule, man,” Puck laughed. “Plus I wasn’t looking long term with her. It was just the fringe benefits, you know?”
Kurt did know, not from personal experience but he’d heard enough about it from rom coms and cheesy TV shows to get the gist.
“But that’s over.” Puck looked down at the cup that all but slipped out of Kurt’s hands and grabbed it happily, flashing a huge satisfied smile as he started to munch on a handful of M&M’s. He looked over at Kurt and cocked an eyebrow. “… What?”
“You and Santana?” Kurt frowned. “Are you… are you and Rachel getting back together?”
Puck flinched, a handful of M&Ms halfway to his mouth. He averted his eyes and stared at a bit of the blanket on his bed. “No.”
David walked back in with a smile and a needle, cutting the conversation off midstream. He felt like he’d touched an exposed nerve but didn’t know exactly how to apologize or even to bring it up without making it worse. David scanned the medication to make sure it was the right one for the right patient and cleaned off the PICC line with alcohol, completely unaware of the awkwardness in the room.
After a moment he felt the familiar warmth from the morphine, the slight taste of metal in the back of his throat and the relief from the throbbing pain on the side of his face.
“Can I get you anything else?” David asked with a bright smile.
“You know what, I was just about to leave…”
“Puck…”
“Could you show me which is the easiest way to get to the blue lot?”
David looked from Puck to Kurt and then back at Puck, a strained smile on his face. “Of course I can. Follow me.”
“Bye, Kurt.”
Resigned, Kurt lifted a hand. “Bye, Puck.”
*
Puck showed up the next day at 1:30 with a box of donuts and a bag slung over his shoulder. Kurt had at least showered that day, which was nice enough. He ignored his pajamas being a highly embarrassing paisley print and instead looked disapprovingly at the box.
“Carbs? I can’t work out and you bring me carbs?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “You think any of these are for you?”
Puck barged in with a smile, almost knocking Kurt over. Kurt should be used to this invasion of space by now but somehow he still had a bubble in his chest when Puck’s skin brushed past his when he put the donuts and bag on the bedside table.
He covered it with a ridiculous attempt at chastisement. “Oh please, come on in. You’re more than welcome.”
“I brought a couple of CDs I thought you would like. Plus I figured you could help with my assignment for over break,” Puck said as he lounged on the thick recliner type chair that he’d somehow charmed out of the nurses the day before. “You’ll never guess what crap Schue’s gotten us doing. I think he spends weekends thinking of ways to embarrass us.”
Kurt turned slightly in the bed and sighed dramatically. There was no stopping Noah Puckerman on a mission. “What is it this week? Broadway? New Age?”
Noah shuddered. “Country. He wants us to sing a country song.”
“While I agree it is hideous I don’t see what the big deal is. You are made for country. Just add a hat and boots and we are set. Remember the demented song we had to sing with April last year?”
Noah laughed. “I’ve still got the outfit.”
“Then we are halfway there,” Kurt smiled, excited for a new project. He picked up his iPod and searched through the list slowly, his right eye sore from being the sole one in use. He didn’t have much country but he did know enough. He was Burt Hummel’s son, after all. “Have you heard of Tim McGraw?”
“Tim McWho?”
Kurt let out a long breath as he attached the AUX cable to his CD player. “Okay, I can see this might take a while.”
He debated which song would be ranked least horrific on the Puck scale, nixed the ones that might make him cry, and settled on the one that he figured would speak to Puck’s personality the most.
“Just ignore the background and the twang, you can settle that out,” Kurt said, as he watched Puck furrow his brows in concern. “It’s simple and about girls.”
Puck simply shook his head.
Kurt bit his lip and switched to ‘For a Little While’ but the quick wrinkling of Puck’s nose knocked that off the list. He started to just click forward as his eye wasn’t focusing at all. When he stopped on ‘Just To See You Smile’ he didn’t think himself delusional enough to assume Puck would ever play it but then when he looked over Puck was actually listening.
Kurt paused. Even with the slide guitar and the twang, Puck wasn’t twinging or flinching. It had potential; it definitely had potential.
The song ended and Puck’s blank look turned annoyed. “So this guy says he loves this chick so he lets her go off with some jerk off to get her to smile?”
Having never actually thought about it that way, Kurt could see that Puck had a valid point. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight it though. “He knows he’s not the person for her, that she needs more. So he’s willing to go through the heartbreak if he knows she’ll be happier in the long run.”
“That is freaking lame.”
“Well, we can keep looking…”
Puck shook that idea off. “That was the first song that didn’t make me want to scream, I guess I’ll live through the lameness. I mean isn’t he the guy who bagged Faith Hill? She’s pretty hot.”
“I thought you didn’t know who Tim McGraw was.” Kurt tilted his head and gave the best glare a guy wearing an eye patch could manage.
“Well, maybe I know him through my mom or something.”
Kurt laughed. “You have a picture of him on your wall, don’t you? Like your boys rough and tumble, huh? Cowboy boots and chaps?”
“Hell no,” Puck responded. “Much more clean cut guys. I don’t want beard rash anywhere.”
If he didn’t know better, which he most certainly did, he would swear that Puck was flirting with him. He was being a complete jerk while doing so, but it was Puck so he really didn’t think that was the suspicious part. He ignored the urge to look for the hidden cameras or Ashton Kutchner. Instead he gave a weird half laugh and glazed over the topic as quickly as he could.
“Yeah, that would be … highly uncomfortable. But about th-the song? I think you could easily do it stripped down.” He flinched. “Just you and the guitar. Maybe talk a few of the girls in being your back ups? I’d recommend Quinn, Mercedes and maybe Brittany? You’d have to talk that out with them.”
Puck looked at him for a long time and then shrugged like he was answering a question he asked himself. “Want to listen to the music I brought?”
Kurt nodded his head furiously.
He discovered two things through the music choices of Puck. One? He did actually have variety when it came to music, even if he’d deny it to his grave. Two? Most of his music was tied to memories. He spent almost an hour listening to Puck switch through tracks and tell him where he was the first time he heard it or the time he listened to it while making out with some random chick in 7th grade.
It would have kept going if his doctor hadn’t shown up to knock on his door. “Hate to interrupt.”
“... I should go.” Puck unplugged his CD player and jumped to his feet so fast Kurt couldn’t keep track of him. “I’ll... come back tomorrow.”
And he was out the door.
“Bye,” Kurt said, a minute too late.
“A bit twitchy, is he?” Dr. Leeds said. When it connected that that was a joke he laughed twice as hard as he should have because... well. The man looked like he hadn’t cracked a smile since the Reagan administration.
“I guess he is,” Kurt wondered, looking at the door. When he turned back to Dr. Leeds he hesitated. “Should I call my dad?”
“I’ve already had the nurse do that.” Dr. Leeds looked over his sheets. “It’s been forty-eight hours, any signs of concussion are gone. You’ve had food and kept it down. Your eye and nose are unfortunately just going to require time. It’s time for you to go home.”
Kurt blinked his one good eye and paused for a few long seconds. “You’re letting me go?”
“With strict instructions to keep your eyes rested, spend as much time as you can at a forty-five degree angle or less for at least a week and keep on the medication you’ve been on. But yes. You can go home.”
He suppressed the urge to hug the dour man and instead just put his hand out and shook Dr. Leeds’ hand. “Thank you so much!”
*
It wasn’t until later that night, safely in his bed -- which was upstairs and therefore he was about as stuck as he used to be in the hospital -- that it occurred to him that the last thing he’d said to Puck was that he’d see him the next day. He had his number, though why and how he’d forgotten, and he stared at the name for 30 seconds until his right eye ached and he had to touch a button to put light on the screen three times.
Grow up and call him, he chastised himself.
He hit send and closed his eyes, partially to rest his right eye and partially to pray that he didn’t pick up. Answering machines could be so much more forgiving.
“Kurt?”
He was never that lucky.
“Puck!” he said, way too cheerful and loud. “What’s up?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know, you called me, man.”
“Oh, uh... yeah.” Kurt laughed. “Um, yeah. I was just calling because you said you were coming by the hospital tomorrow and you don’t have to because I won’t be there. I’m at home now? The new house, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Puck answered, his voice lower than usual, like maybe he’d been sleeping, even if it was only just past nine at night. “Well, I guess I’ll see you then.”
“I guess?” Kurt’s heart was in his throat. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
With the distinct feeling of being dumped, Kurt curled up on his side in the room that felt more like a hotel room than his actual room, on the bed that was different than his bed, and let himself soak in some good old-fashioned pity.
*
He woke up at just past two in the morning, eye throbbing and uncomfortably aware of the distance between himself and the meds in the kitchen downstairs. He was still fully clothed but somebody had pulled a blanket over him. He shifted up and didn’t bother turning on his light. All it would do was blind his good eye. Instead he put his feet one in front of the other and felt outwards as he navigated a room he just barely knew.
At least he hadn’t been there long enough to get the floor messed up. He could see a sliver of light from the door and he almost pumped his fist when he got there. There were small squares of light that lit up the sides of the stairs but he still took each stair like it would break if he stepped on it too fast.
When he made it to the bottom, he was shocked to find the light in the kitchen already on. He blinked a few times before the shape of Finn came into focus at the kitchen table. He got a wave and gave one back.
“The good cookies are on top of the fridge,” Finn muttered. “Do you want me to get them for you?”
Kurt shook his head, seeing the small orange bottle on the island. He walked towards where he thought the cups were and found Finn on his feet beside him. He bristled but didn’t say anything. It was glass after all. At least he handed it to him rather than ask what he wanted.
He went to the fridge and filled the cup with water.
“Our parents spared no expense, huh?”
“Mom kind of manipulated your dad a bit.” Finn gave a small smile. “All she had to do was say that this was our first ‘family’ home and he crumbled.”
Kurt laughed, too. His dad was a hopeless romantic. A pang of something hit his chest as he thought about not being there for a lot of the firsts. He opened the little orange bottle and pulled out two pills, swallowing them with a gulp of water.
“So what’s got you up and eating the better part of a plate of cookies at this time of night?”
Finn froze. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“That was kind of implied,” Kurt teased. “What’s on your mind?”
A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed before Finn broke. “Is it just me or are relationships more crap than they’re worth?”
Kurt didn’t point out that he hadn’t had that much experience. Because whatever kind of demented relationship he’d developed in the last few days had been... well. Freaking confusing. He just nodded when Finn looked at him and let that mean whatever Finn needed it to be.
“You like Puck, don’t you?”
Kurt choked on the sip of water he was about to take. “I like Puck how?”
Finn just looked at him.
“You haven’t even seen me and Puck together in months,” he squeaked.
“Puck’s been at the hospital for three days, dude.”
Kurt shook his head. “Two days. I only spent the night twice.”
“He was there the first night, too. I called him kind of freaking out and had to talk him out of going down to lock up and beating the crap out of Dave but then he went straight to the hospital to sit with me while they did CAT scans and stuff.”
“Why didn’t he come in?”
“He wasn’t family? Though that didn’t stop him from trying.” Finn smiled.“ He charmed one nurse so hard I think he could have gotten her to say yes to a marriage proposal. Still no loophole to see you.”
Kurt stared at the cup in his hands for an extremely long time, so long that he was pretty sure that Finn might get up and leave him. Finally though he looked up at him.
“You’re right. Relationships freaking suck.”
Kurt gave a bitter laugh. “Need me to help you back upstairs?”
“No way. Where are those cookies?”
*
When the doorbell rang the next morning, Kurt was in the middle of moping, listening to music on his chaise lounge. It just barely registered; he wasn’t expecting anyone. His stomach hurt if he thought about it. Until the door to his room swung open and Puck walked in with his guitar slung over his back.
He pulled the earbuds out and stared.
“... what?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?”
“Am I late or something? I didn’t know we had an official date or something.”
Kurt’s tongue felt too big in his mouth, so he stuttered. “You-you... you said, ‘I guess I’ll see you later’.”
“Today is later.”
“I thought you were... I thought that you...” Kurt flailed his arms in every direction. “I don’t even KNOW what I thought. But I didn’t think you’d be coming to my house.”
“Your brain is scary, Hummel.”
The thing was, he couldn’t actually deny that. “What’s with the guitar?”
Puck perched himself on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “Ah, funny thing, the guitar plays music. Music I need to practice to satisfy my sadistic teacher.”
Kurt would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t hurt worse than it was worth.
*
Every day for almost a week Puck would show up with his guitar and sometimes food -- his mother had forced him to take chicken noodle soup-- and Kurt and he would spend the better part of their afternoons playing music. Mostly they practiced Puck’s version of “Just to See You Smile”, but sometimes they’d goof off and play songs they’d played in New Directions, and occasionally they would sing songs they could never ever get away with in an on-campus activity.
Carole, who still didn’t really like Puck and made that clear when she could, started to warm to him when he brought her a dozen home baked brownies (from his mom) and a genuine apology letter (from him). Burt was dubious but could see that his son was happy and that was enough for him. Finn was... hesitant. Kurt could see there was something beyond just the Quinn thing but didn’t want to ask.
Even if he was in complete pain and looked like he’d gone six rounds with a professional fighter, he was happier than he’d been in months. Except. Well. Except, Puck hadn’t kissed him. Maybe he was just going crazy, maybe Puck was looking for friendship. He’d certainly burned a lot of bridges at school... but there were moments. Moments where he paused in the middle of a song just to check what Kurt was thinking. Or where he’d play the beginning of a standard he knew that Kurt really loved.
It wasn’t like he knew what to look for. His one almost relationship so far had been with Blaine, who made taking things at a glacial pace seem like going too fast. He just. He wanted to go somewhere faster, somewhere more. He felt like a horndog or something, but every time he was around Puck for more than ten minutes the only thing he could think of was, ‘Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.’
On Saturday late afternoon, Puck didn’t show up with his guitar. He waited at the bottom of the stairs even after Carole called him down and even watched as Kurt looked like a complete fool stumbling down the stairs. He wasn’t wearing his usual uniform of flannel and jeans but a polo and jeans instead. Kurt’s stomach instantly filled with butterflies. If he didn’t know better... but what the hell did he know?
“You’ve been cooped up too long,” Puck stated. “Carole and I agreed you need out of the house for something other than a doctor’s appointment.”
Kurt looked at Carole who winked and nodded. “Get out of here, kid. And if you’re back before ten you are grounded.”
“One ground rule,” Kurt said and Puck seemed genuinely concerned. “Anywhere but ‘Breadsticks’. Seriously. Anywhere.”
Puck nodded solemnly then broke into a small laugh. “I guess I can handle that condition.”
They got into Puck’s car and Kurt breathed in the familiar scent of Puck. He busied himself buckling in so as not to look completely lame when Puck got in on his side. It was probably futile, but it was worth a try. Puck turned in his seat.
“Okay so ‘Breadsticks’ is out,” Puck stated. “Where do you want to go?”
“You want the truth?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “No, lie to me.”
“I want a burger. A huge, completely horrible for me burger and fries. I get that we have to keep dad on a strict diet but...”
“Man can not live on salt free crap alone?” Puck finished for him. “Kewpee’s?”
Kurt could kiss him just for saying the word, well that and a million other reasons. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
*
The place was surprisingly dead for five o’clock on a Saturday but it didn’t really matter to Kurt. Closer to food. Greasy greasy food.
“What do you want?” Puck asked and Kurt had to really focus on the words above him to get them to stay still. When he finally did he went to grab his wallet just to be brushed back by Puck, who ordered and handed over his credit card in one fail swoop.
“Hey, I can pay for myself!”
Puck leveled him with a look and Kurt had a weird feeling in the back of his brain. Even more so when Puck ordered it to go. They filled their sodas in silence and went back to the car.
“Where are we going?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a surprise.”
Puck laughed. “Well now you do. Relax.”
Kurt stared out the window as Lima passed by. Things looked familiar but it felt like it had been literally forever since he’d seen most of it. When they passed by an old empty Subway and then a place to get a barber shop shave he started piecing it together but before he could articulate it they were pulling into McKinley’s parking lot. He stared at the school with a mixture of fear and fondness.
“I think it’s closed,” he said, his voice higher than it meant to be. “It’s the holidays.”
Puck didn’t listen to him, just got out of the car with the food and headed straight to the side entrance of the theater. Against his better judgment he got out of the car and ran to catch up.
“Are you crazy Puck? We could get arrested. Are you going to just break in? You have a record!”
A set of keys were waved in front of his face and Puck rolled his eyes. “As if I would risk juvie again. You know who owns this place? Well I’ve got ins with her. It’s ours.”
Ours made Kurt’s stomach turn into a series of bubbles. He smiled, thankful for the dark. Even more so for the fact that Puck had taken his hand to lead him down the aisles of the auditorium and onto the stairs that lead to the stage.
“Wait here,” Puck said. “Got to get the lights.”
Thirty seconds later the lights turned on and by the time Puck was back Kurt had set up an impromptu dinner table on the piano bench. Puck was smiling as he sat down, so large and happy that Kurt couldn’t think of any other reason for him to be smiling like that at him. Over food. In a -- okay, only semi -- romantic space. It was a date. He was on a date with Noah Puckerman.
He threw caution to the wind and closed the distance between the two of them.
The first kiss was too fierce, probably due to lack of depth perception, but when he pulled back Puck came back in to give him a much softer kiss. His smile was softer, but still gave him bubbles. “Sure, you do this before the burgers.”
Kurt laughed. “I have my priorities in order, do you?”
Puck kissed him again. “Definitely. And I know where the microwave is.”
Before Kurt could think of a retort they were laying on the ground, making out like neither of them required oxygen. He felt light headed and happy and all the silly moments over the last week seemed to fade into obscurity as he thought about the moment he was in.
*
A while and a trip to the microwave later, they lay on their sides staring at each other as they ate.
“You know, now that Karofsky is up shit river without a boat, you could come back,” Puck casually said, as he grabbed one of Kurt’s fries.
Kurt tensed up. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about that as soon as he heard that Karofsky was in jail. It would be so easy, just come back with his tail between his legs. He wanted to, actually. But then again he didn’t know if he could.
“There are a lot of bad memories here,” he said softly. “A lot of things I want to forget.”
Puck lifted a hand up and steadied his face so that he could lay a soft kiss on Kurt’s lips. “We could change those bad memories to good ones. Come on. Don’t let one jack ass win.”
Kurt turned away from Puck.
“Oh come on,” Puck put his arm on Kurt’s shoulder. “There have been a lot of good memories too, right? Sectionals? Mr. Schue getting us another year?”
“Slushies in the face, swirlies and homophobic slurs. Are you ready for that?” Kurt turned to him and saw the hesitation in his eyes. His stomach dropped a little, because he knew that he couldn’t ask someone else to go through what he went through. He might feel a little lost at Dalton, but he’d get into the swing of things eventually.
There was a long silence.
“Can you take me home, my eye hurts.” It was a weak lie, but he heard Puck cleaning up the bags behind him.
“Wait.”
Thirty seconds and the lights went off, a little more and he felt Puck grabbing at his arm. They got to the car and made the drive to his house in a painfully awkward silence. He cause sight of the clock. It wasn’t even nine. He figured Carole would understand.
*
Two days later he got a text message from Puck that read : “Can I tlk 2 u?”
He deleted it.
An email.
He deleted it.
“Kurt! Pick up the phone,” Finn called up from down stairs.
Apparently Puck played dirty pool. He debated just hanging up but the only two plugged in phones were in his parents’ room and in the kitchen. Neither of which boded well for secrecy. He was getting remarkably better at getting down the stairs but took his time anyway.
“Hello?”
“You know, you are one hard person to get a hold of,” Puck snapped.
Kurt looked at where Finn was pretending to look in the fridge and lowered his voice. “Well did you ever think I didn’t want to talk to you?”
“What did I do? You’re the one who just made wild assumptions about me and then expected instant answers.”
He deflated a little; Puck had a point. “Okay. Maybe I didn’t handle it that well. But... my point still stands. I can’t do that to you. I can’t make you number two on the hit list at McKinley. Hell, you’re a football player, you might out rank me.”
“And shouldn’t I be given the choice whether or not I cared?”
“Remember when you shaved your hair and people treated you like crap? Now take that and multiply it by a hundred. Every day. For the next two years.”
“Listen to me, I. don’t. care.”
A lump formed in the base of his throat and he was afraid his voice might crack and whatever dignity he had left-- admittedly minimal -- would be gone. “I care, okay? I don’t want to see that happen to you. I sure as heck don’t want to be the reason it happens to you. I’m... sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
He hung the phone up with a little more vigor than demanded and heard a soft crack. On further inspection, though, it was fine. Finn, however, was four feet away from him and staring at him in that weird way that he had. The way that made Kurt feel guilty even when he wasn’t, which this time he totally was.
Finn lifted his hands and grabbed a tin. “Cookies?”
*
“So, let me get this right. You are going back to a school you admit to not entirely liking, to be miles away from the guy you seem to really like and the school that at least has a glee club you don’t want to run screaming from. All of this because you are afraid of what it’ll do to Puck’s reputation. Who, by the way, has told you he doesn’t care about that.”
Kurt took another bite from his cookie. “Sorta.”
“Sort of?”
He groaned. “Okay, exactly. Exactly like that. I mean. It isn’t like Puck is known to have an attention span longer than most Fox executives, what happens when hot chick number 4 stumbles in or if Santana calls.”
“Then his reputation will be fine and your heart will be broken. His face as well, by the way.” Finn put his hands together and looked up. “Please Jesus give me a reason to punch his face.”
“Shut up, he’d never hurt me like that.”
Finn smiled. “So what are you worrying about?”
Apparently, no answer was his answer... and he had to talk to his parents.
*
Kurt debated back and forth about whether or not he was going to make a grand entrance. He’d had an eye appointment that morning, and he was still stuck with the patch that went with nothing he owned… but it had been a few months. Even if they were a bunch of crazy people, they were his bunch of crazy people and he was not above walking in and drawing their eyes. In the end he settled for something in the middle.
He waited for the bell to ring, clutched the red paper he had to give to Mr. Schue and stepped through the door. It was loud enough for no one to notice so he stepped carefully over to where Mr. Schue’s back was to him and tapped his shoulder.
“Um, Mr. Schue?” he asked, like he had a thousand times before.
And just like the thousand times before he turned around and said, “Ah, Mr. Hummel.” Only this time his eyes went wide and he looked between his eye and the paper and his back. He was pulled into an awkward hug. “Kurt!”
That brought the attention of the whole class, all of them out of their seat before he could find Puck in the crowd. He smiled and took all the hugs, even from the girl from AV who he had no idea was even in New Directions, and from Brittany who asked where his parrot was.
Finn, who was the only one who knew, still looked happy to see him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Hey, Bro.”
“Hey,” Kurt dramatically gasped. ”-Loosen up? Just out of the hospital.”
Finn blushed as he pulled back.
Then there was Puck, who hadn’t gotten out of his seat. Who seemed to be stuck there. Who he hadn’t talked to for a week. For one heart stopping moment he was afraid that Puck asking him to be there was just polite or something. Pillow talk, though they hadn’t actually had pillow talk… He waved nervously and bit his lower lip.
Puck stood up and people kind of pulled away and stared at him. Kurt was trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not when Puck gave him a hug that rivaled Finn’s. This time Kurt didn’t make a joke he just inhaled and smiled.
“I thought you were going back to Dalton?” Puck asked and Kurt swore Puck was blushing.
Kurt smiled, his answer low and teasing. “Like I’d give up a chance to see you sing country for a crowd.”
Puck’s smile was actually a little intoxicating and Kurt leaned in just a little before he heard Finn cough beside them. He looked around and everyone was looking directly at them and it was totally Kurt’s turn to blush.
“No need for a big production,” he tried. “Isn’t this a glee club or something?”
They all walked to their seats and it was just assumed that Kurt would sit next to Puck. He thought back to the thrill he got from holding Blaine’s hand when they ran down the hall of Dalton for the first time. Remembered the feeling of ‘fitting in’ or whatever he thought he was doing at that school.
His hand brushed up against Puck’s, just barely touching. Tina sang an amazing version of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” and while he didn’t actually fit in, no one did. And that felt so much better.
Pairing: Kurt/Puck
Rating: R (for situation and violence)
Summary: Kurt comes home for vacation and runs into Karofsky. Literally.
Author's Notes: Pinch hit for Chrismukkuh fest over at for soblonde1202
Warning: More violent than I usually write, but not by much.
Beta: carolinecrane not only dealt with me pinch hitting in FOUR DAYS but she didn't actually kill me, so tha tis worth a medal or something. Over 8.5k as well. And she didn't kill me! ;)
I post it here, even though it was already posted here because I am neurotic. Deal with it.
It was weird coming home to someplace that wasn’t actually his home. He’d seen all the pictures that his dad had sent him, the layout that Carole had sent in hopes of him helping her decorate and even a few pictures of Finn’s room but had yet to step into the place that was now where his … well… his family lived.
His dad had given him a key the last time they came to visit, along with an atrocious key ring that he’d immediately ‘lost’ in favor of a tasteful silver one that had the imprint of a house on top. He slipped it into the bottom lock and then into the top and had to shove a little to get it to work. Carole had warned him about that or else he would have feared that he was more or less breaking and entering.
As soon as he stepped in the door he took stock of his surroundings. It was definitely Brady Bunch-esque and he saw many trips to Crate and Barrel in his future but somehow that didn’t bother him. He felt relieved to just take a breath and not be at Dalton even for a few weeks for the holidays.
“Hello?” He called out. “Anyone home?”
He walked through the living room and into the kitchen to find Finn, Carole and Burt standing around the table. On the surface of the table there was a cupcake with a candle in the center.
“WELCOME HOME!” They called out in unison and when Finn shoved the cupcake at him, Kurt blew out the candle.
In a moment he was wrapped up in a huge hug from his dad, and then Carole. When it came to Finn there was a tentative handshake before Finn gave up and grabbed him into a bear hug.
“Welcome back.” Finn smiled, when they pulled back. “You hungry?”
Kurt laughed. “I missed you, too?”
“Let him get settled a bit.” Carole separated them. “And then we’ll go to dinner.”
*
Kurt really shouldn’t have been shocked when they ended up at Breadsticks, yet again. He was halfway sure that it was the only place in Lima anyone went … ever. But it was nice, being there.
The dinner itself felt comforting and familiar even if the four of them had only gone out as a family half a dozen times. There were moments when he doubted his decision to force Carole and Burt together but not when he was seated at a table sharing stupid jokes and rolling his eyes with Carole when Finn and his dad started talking about football like it was a religion. He hadn’t even realized he was homesick until that moment.
When their plates came to the table he smiled at the table. “I’m going to wash my hands. No one steal from my plate, got it?”
“Like I’d take your rabbit food,” Finn teased.
“I’ll remember that when prom comes along and I fit into my tux perfectly.” Kurt gave his most beatific smile as he got up from the table and made his way towards the back.
He hummed to himself, warm and happy and content. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed for it, looking down just long enough to bump straight into someone ahead of him.
“Sorry,” Kurt muttered to the brick house he’d bumped into. He paused and looked up. He had just enough time to place the feeling of discomfort on Karofsky’s face before he felt a blunt pang against his face followed by the room going completely dark.
When he woke back up he was on the floor of the diner, a sharp pain in his left eye and the complete inability to take a breath in through his nose. He forgot, for a moment or two, how he got there. He tried to lift himself up onto his elbows but felt two sets of hands that pushed him back down.
“Stay still,” Burt said, his voice less steady than Kurt would like it. He thought about chastising him about getting worked up but when he opened his mouth nothing beyond a feeble attempt at ‘Dad’ came out.
Carole’s voice came from somewhere above them, high and tight. “The ambulance is here.”
‘Ambulance?’ Kurt thought before the sudden image of a fist meeting his face and the look on Karofsky’s face came back to him. He felt sick to his stomach, afraid that if he actually did get sick he would choke on it. It was like his nightmares all coming to life.
A moment later the two sets of hands were off of him and new hands were on him, lifting him up and onto a gurney. He looked over to see Finn, Carole and Burt giving him a concerned look. He tried for a smile and lifted a hand and Burt came forward to grab his hand.
“I’m going with him,” Burt insisted.
“We’ll take the car,” Carole said behind him.
Everything went by too fast. The gurney moved and his dad was talking but he wasn’t listening. The EMT asked him questions and he tried to answer them.
“What hurts?”
Kurt would laugh if he weren’t scared it would hurt worse. He lifted a hand and made a circle around his left eye and nose, followed by the space on the right side of his forehead. Burt’s hand squeezed Kurt’s tightly.
Suddenly he started to feel the space around him begin to spin. He gripped his dad’s hand and the side of the gurney tightly. His eyes hurt, his stomach churned.
“Mr. Hummel?” The EMT asked. “Kurt?”
Before he could answer, it went dark.
*
He woke up to light being shined into his eyes and started to blink furiously. He heard the familiar sound of beeping that made him think of long waits and being at his father’s side. When he shifted he felt a tug of an IV. He blinked to get the spots out of his eyes and found that he could only see from his right eye. He blinked again and still nothing.
“How are you feeling?” Someone out of his line of vision asked, he turned to find a woman in hideous cat printed scrubs.
“I can’t see out of my left eye and I have a total migraine but other than that, I’m feeling great,” he snapped.
A hand landed on his and he turned to see Carole’s concerned face. He felt even guiltier for being so rude to the nice lady. He sighed and turned back.
“Sorry,” he said, a little sheepishly.
The woman put her hand on his wrist, which confused him until he realized she was taking his pulse. After a moment she smiled at him. “You’ve had a long night.”
“Why can’t he see?” Burt asked and again Kurt had to search around for where he was. Only seeing from one eye was making him kind of dizzy.
The woman paused for a moment. “Kurt, could you look at me?”
Kurt obliged, feeling just a little bit dizzy. He watched as she took the penlight out and let the two lights pass by his eyes. She bit the bottom of her lip and then took out a notepad from her pocket, writing something down and then put it back in her pocket.
“And you’re saying you have a headache?”
Kurt shook his head, which was a bad idea because it made his headache worse. “Migraine. I feel like I might get sick to my stomach. That might just be Breadstix> though.”
The entire room missed his attempt at humor, instead he was handed a pink kidney shaped container for him to puke. “If you get sick, try to get it in into here. We’re going to get you into an actual room as soon as possible. For now I’m going to give you some anti-inflammatory and morphine.”
“Wait,” Kurt asked, voice close to a whine. “I have to stay here tonight?”
The woman nodded. “At least. I’m afraid you might have a concussion from where your head hit the floor, and the loss of vision is a point of concern.”
Kurt wanted to cry, but couldn’t. Instead he closed his eyes and laid his head back. He felt Carole’s hand brush back the hair on his forehead.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. After nearly a decade of not having a mom, it was equal parts weird and comforting to have her there. Burt rubbed one of his legs; his inability to handle emotional situations was actually more comforting than Carole’s caring. It was familiar.
When he opened his eyes the woman had left and it was just Carole, Burt and him. He looked around for a moment and something clicked. “Where’s Finn?”
Burt tossed a look at Carole and then looked at Kurt. “Someone had to give a statement.”
“A statement?”
“To the cops,” Carole said, her voice soft and her thumb rubbing back and forth on his forehead. “About Dave.”
Not only could he feel his heart beating faster he could also hear it from the monitor beside him. He moved a little further up the bed and had trouble breathing. “He shouldn’t do that. They aren’t going to do anything and did he even see anything? What about if he gets cleared and he goes after Finn? He shouldn’t…”
“Kurt.” Burt moved around to be right beside Carole, the side he could see. “He can’t get away with it. More than one person witnessed it, including Finn. He’ll be safe, you’ll be safe.”
He was going to fight it. He wanted to fight it. Yet the morphine started to kick in and his skin began to feel warmer and his eyes heavier. He shifted to be closer to his parents and tried to sound as focused as possible.
“Get Finn, please,” he heard the slurring but went on. “Not worth it… Please. Get Finn.”
He didn’t fall asleep, but he did close his eyes. The pain was gone, which was a nice change of pace and he kept thinking that maybe he would wake up and it would be just another nightmare. He’d had enough nightmares featuring Karofsky in the last few months that it wasn’t that much of a stretch. He listened to the steady beeping of the machines and the concerned murmuring of Carole and Burt.
When the guy came to bring him up to his room it actually hit home that he wasn’t just dreaming. His eyes burned, but he still couldn’t cry. He could, though, throw up what little food he’d had on his ride home in the container given to him just a while ago.
*
The doctor who came in later on seemed to be incapable of smiling, which was okay with Kurt as he didn’t want to smile back. He’d been put through an x-ray, a CAT scan and they’d taken enough blood out of his pick line that he was surprised he still had any left.
“I’m Dr. Leeds, you must be Mr. Hummel,” he said, looking straight at Kurt and not at his father. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is this is not going to require surgery.”
“And the bad?”
“It appears that you have hyphema, which is going to require a long recovery time.”
Carole gasped audibly. “How long?”
“We have no idea. The damage mixed with the damage from your nose and your cheek means it could be prolonged.”
A hand landed on his and he looked down to find Finn holding his hand. He assumed it was the shock or maybe the painkillers but he was completely numb to all that was going on.
“I’m going to kill him,” Burt muttered, clear enough for everyone to hear.
Carole reacted first, tutting and putting her hand on his shoulder. “Burt, you know that won’t change anything besides put you in jail.”
“He’s eighteen now,” Finn said, a sickly satisfied smile on his face. “There were more than enough witnesses. He’s going to jail.”
Still, Kurt felt nothing. No joy or fear or even relief. He smiled slightly at his family, but that was all he could muster. He just nodded and assumed that the doctor knew what he was doing.
*
He sent everyone home once he got settled into his room. None of them listened, of course. His father came back to bring him a pillow and a blanket that would actually be bearable. Finn brought him his iPod but forgot the charger. Carole brought him snacks. But to be honest he just wanted to be alone.
Burt called again, before he went to bed and asked if there was anything else he wanted and he rattled off a list but added firmly that he didn’t need them the next day and not to come back. His dad in a hospital, even on the opposite side of the bed, was something he didn’t like seeing no matter what.
*
Kurt woke up to the sound of the TV, blinked for a moment and then rolled over to find Noah Puckerman with his legs up on Kurt’s bed flipping through the channels. He thought for a second it was some sort of morphine-induced hallucination but when Puck turned to look at him and his stomach turned to jelly he knew it had to be real.
“Took you long enough, Hummel.” Puck clicked the TV off. “You know how much crap is on day time TV?”
Kurt pointed to his eye patch. “Haven’t really been up to watching TV. Though if you insult Oprah I might harm you.”
“Chill out Black Bart, it’s like only like 11:30.”
Ignoring the fact that Puck might actually know what time Oprah was on, he went for the more pressing question. “What the heck are you doing here?”
“Finn said you’ve been bored out of your skull,” Puck replied like that was really an answer, stealing an M&M from the cup Carole had brought him the night before.
“I don’t need a baby sitter.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest indignantly.
Puck mimicked him. “And I’m not getting paid.”
When Puck went for more M&Ms Kurt grabbed them and moved them out of his reach. He hadn’t seen Puck since… well. Since Puck avoided him at sectionals. He wasn’t sure what emotions he was feeling towards Puck, but generous wasn’t one of them.
“So… you’re just visiting out of the kindness of your heart?” Kurt rolled his eyes.
Puck shrugged and dumped the few things he’d asked his dad for the day before onto the table in front of him. “If you’d rather I could call Santana or Quinn. I’m sure they’d love to come and berate you. Or Rachel. Since she and Finn are on the outs I bet you she’ll sing you a upbeat Rihanna or a Bright Eyes song.”
“Wait,” Kurt put up a finger. “Rachel and Finn broke up?”
“He’s your brother, dude.” Puck frowned. “Shouldn’t you know this before I do?”
Embarrassed, Kurt looked away. “Step brother, actually. And we haven’t actually had much time. You know, before I got my face smashed.”
“Let’s just say there was some truth revealed that messed with both sides,” Puck said, and when Kurt looked at him it was Puck who looked embarrassed. It was a new look on him, one that told Kurt not to push any further.
“Well,” Kurt searched for a subject to change to. “Anything else happen in New Directions since I’ve been gone?”
Puck half smiled and rubbed a hand over his Mohawk. “Sam and Quinn are an official thing now, same with Brittany and Artie. And for some reason Brittany still believes in Santa.”
“Sam and Quinn? Quinn’s not stringing him along?”
“I tell you Brittany believes in Santa and you get hung up on Duck Lips’ dating life?”
Kurt chuckled. “It’s Brittany, you could tell me she believed in leprechauns and it wouldn’t shock me. Knowing Brittany she probably does. Artie’s really dating her
“Yeah,” Puck nodded. “And somehow it works. I mean, they’re happy.”
Kurt tilted his head. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
The motion had his eye throbbing and he didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was about time for him to get another dosage of painkiller. He hesitated though, unsure of Puck staying or not if he interrupted them. It was bizarrely nice to have him there. He didn’t seem to be looking at him with pity like the others had and he had him laughing which was something he hadn’t felt like doing in the two days he’d been in the hospital.
“I … um. I need something for the pain,” Kurt admitted, pain winning out. “Want to see if my nurse is hot or not?”
It was an admittedly lame move on Kurt’s part but he could care less, he looked at Puck until Puck nodded his head and then pressed the button. It struck him that Puck was seeing him at his absolute worse. He hadn’t braved looking in a mirror since the surgery but he was pretty sure that he probably looked like hell, not to mention the lack of a bath.
While Puck watched the door, Kurt lifted a hand up to at least attempt to control his hair and was just thinking about how he could get a mirror out to assess the damage when a rather attractive looking male in scrubs walked in the room with a huge smile.
“Hey, I’m David,” David said as he washed his hands with the hand sanitizer that seemed to be everywhere. “You rang?”
“You’re not my nurse,” Kurt stuttered out. “I mean… um. What about Megan?”
David smiled. “Megan went home, I’m your nurse for the day. What can I get you?”
“He needs a fill up on his morphine,” Puck answered for him. “And you know, if you got any extra you can always…”
“Puck.” Kurt glared at him. “This isn’t a dispensary.”
David just laughed but then looked at the computer screen beside Kurt’s bed. “Wow, you really are due for a top up. Let me go get that for you. Anything else I can get while I’m out? Gatorade? Water? An extra pillow?”
Kurt shook his head. His dad had brought him a blanket and pillow from home first thing, so he was pretty well set. He watched as David left, his eyes drifting down to his ass appreciatively.
“Not bad,” Puck commented.
“Wha?”
Puck jerked his head towards the door. “Hot nurse? Not bad. I would have preferred a brunet but I guess everyone has their flaws.”
Kurt waited for the punch line, for Puck to laugh it off or to call him a queer.Puck leaned back in the chair and acted like he’d just commented on the weather or the latest sports score. He shrugged and steeped his hands in front of him.
Kurt felt his jaw drop slightly.
“Don’t you usually prefer the female kind?”
Puck shrugged again. “Blondes on girls, brunets on boys. Blue eyes either way.”
“What-“ he frowned and chickened out of the question about boys. “What about Santana?”
“Exception that proves the rule, man,” Puck laughed. “Plus I wasn’t looking long term with her. It was just the fringe benefits, you know?”
Kurt did know, not from personal experience but he’d heard enough about it from rom coms and cheesy TV shows to get the gist.
“But that’s over.” Puck looked down at the cup that all but slipped out of Kurt’s hands and grabbed it happily, flashing a huge satisfied smile as he started to munch on a handful of M&M’s. He looked over at Kurt and cocked an eyebrow. “… What?”
“You and Santana?” Kurt frowned. “Are you… are you and Rachel getting back together?”
Puck flinched, a handful of M&Ms halfway to his mouth. He averted his eyes and stared at a bit of the blanket on his bed. “No.”
David walked back in with a smile and a needle, cutting the conversation off midstream. He felt like he’d touched an exposed nerve but didn’t know exactly how to apologize or even to bring it up without making it worse. David scanned the medication to make sure it was the right one for the right patient and cleaned off the PICC line with alcohol, completely unaware of the awkwardness in the room.
After a moment he felt the familiar warmth from the morphine, the slight taste of metal in the back of his throat and the relief from the throbbing pain on the side of his face.
“Can I get you anything else?” David asked with a bright smile.
“You know what, I was just about to leave…”
“Puck…”
“Could you show me which is the easiest way to get to the blue lot?”
David looked from Puck to Kurt and then back at Puck, a strained smile on his face. “Of course I can. Follow me.”
“Bye, Kurt.”
Resigned, Kurt lifted a hand. “Bye, Puck.”
*
Puck showed up the next day at 1:30 with a box of donuts and a bag slung over his shoulder. Kurt had at least showered that day, which was nice enough. He ignored his pajamas being a highly embarrassing paisley print and instead looked disapprovingly at the box.
“Carbs? I can’t work out and you bring me carbs?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “You think any of these are for you?”
Puck barged in with a smile, almost knocking Kurt over. Kurt should be used to this invasion of space by now but somehow he still had a bubble in his chest when Puck’s skin brushed past his when he put the donuts and bag on the bedside table.
He covered it with a ridiculous attempt at chastisement. “Oh please, come on in. You’re more than welcome.”
“I brought a couple of CDs I thought you would like. Plus I figured you could help with my assignment for over break,” Puck said as he lounged on the thick recliner type chair that he’d somehow charmed out of the nurses the day before. “You’ll never guess what crap Schue’s gotten us doing. I think he spends weekends thinking of ways to embarrass us.”
Kurt turned slightly in the bed and sighed dramatically. There was no stopping Noah Puckerman on a mission. “What is it this week? Broadway? New Age?”
Noah shuddered. “Country. He wants us to sing a country song.”
“While I agree it is hideous I don’t see what the big deal is. You are made for country. Just add a hat and boots and we are set. Remember the demented song we had to sing with April last year?”
Noah laughed. “I’ve still got the outfit.”
“Then we are halfway there,” Kurt smiled, excited for a new project. He picked up his iPod and searched through the list slowly, his right eye sore from being the sole one in use. He didn’t have much country but he did know enough. He was Burt Hummel’s son, after all. “Have you heard of Tim McGraw?”
“Tim McWho?”
Kurt let out a long breath as he attached the AUX cable to his CD player. “Okay, I can see this might take a while.”
He debated which song would be ranked least horrific on the Puck scale, nixed the ones that might make him cry, and settled on the one that he figured would speak to Puck’s personality the most.
“Just ignore the background and the twang, you can settle that out,” Kurt said, as he watched Puck furrow his brows in concern. “It’s simple and about girls.”
Puck simply shook his head.
Kurt bit his lip and switched to ‘For a Little While’ but the quick wrinkling of Puck’s nose knocked that off the list. He started to just click forward as his eye wasn’t focusing at all. When he stopped on ‘Just To See You Smile’ he didn’t think himself delusional enough to assume Puck would ever play it but then when he looked over Puck was actually listening.
Kurt paused. Even with the slide guitar and the twang, Puck wasn’t twinging or flinching. It had potential; it definitely had potential.
The song ended and Puck’s blank look turned annoyed. “So this guy says he loves this chick so he lets her go off with some jerk off to get her to smile?”
Having never actually thought about it that way, Kurt could see that Puck had a valid point. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight it though. “He knows he’s not the person for her, that she needs more. So he’s willing to go through the heartbreak if he knows she’ll be happier in the long run.”
“That is freaking lame.”
“Well, we can keep looking…”
Puck shook that idea off. “That was the first song that didn’t make me want to scream, I guess I’ll live through the lameness. I mean isn’t he the guy who bagged Faith Hill? She’s pretty hot.”
“I thought you didn’t know who Tim McGraw was.” Kurt tilted his head and gave the best glare a guy wearing an eye patch could manage.
“Well, maybe I know him through my mom or something.”
Kurt laughed. “You have a picture of him on your wall, don’t you? Like your boys rough and tumble, huh? Cowboy boots and chaps?”
“Hell no,” Puck responded. “Much more clean cut guys. I don’t want beard rash anywhere.”
If he didn’t know better, which he most certainly did, he would swear that Puck was flirting with him. He was being a complete jerk while doing so, but it was Puck so he really didn’t think that was the suspicious part. He ignored the urge to look for the hidden cameras or Ashton Kutchner. Instead he gave a weird half laugh and glazed over the topic as quickly as he could.
“Yeah, that would be … highly uncomfortable. But about th-the song? I think you could easily do it stripped down.” He flinched. “Just you and the guitar. Maybe talk a few of the girls in being your back ups? I’d recommend Quinn, Mercedes and maybe Brittany? You’d have to talk that out with them.”
Puck looked at him for a long time and then shrugged like he was answering a question he asked himself. “Want to listen to the music I brought?”
Kurt nodded his head furiously.
He discovered two things through the music choices of Puck. One? He did actually have variety when it came to music, even if he’d deny it to his grave. Two? Most of his music was tied to memories. He spent almost an hour listening to Puck switch through tracks and tell him where he was the first time he heard it or the time he listened to it while making out with some random chick in 7th grade.
It would have kept going if his doctor hadn’t shown up to knock on his door. “Hate to interrupt.”
“... I should go.” Puck unplugged his CD player and jumped to his feet so fast Kurt couldn’t keep track of him. “I’ll... come back tomorrow.”
And he was out the door.
“Bye,” Kurt said, a minute too late.
“A bit twitchy, is he?” Dr. Leeds said. When it connected that that was a joke he laughed twice as hard as he should have because... well. The man looked like he hadn’t cracked a smile since the Reagan administration.
“I guess he is,” Kurt wondered, looking at the door. When he turned back to Dr. Leeds he hesitated. “Should I call my dad?”
“I’ve already had the nurse do that.” Dr. Leeds looked over his sheets. “It’s been forty-eight hours, any signs of concussion are gone. You’ve had food and kept it down. Your eye and nose are unfortunately just going to require time. It’s time for you to go home.”
Kurt blinked his one good eye and paused for a few long seconds. “You’re letting me go?”
“With strict instructions to keep your eyes rested, spend as much time as you can at a forty-five degree angle or less for at least a week and keep on the medication you’ve been on. But yes. You can go home.”
He suppressed the urge to hug the dour man and instead just put his hand out and shook Dr. Leeds’ hand. “Thank you so much!”
*
It wasn’t until later that night, safely in his bed -- which was upstairs and therefore he was about as stuck as he used to be in the hospital -- that it occurred to him that the last thing he’d said to Puck was that he’d see him the next day. He had his number, though why and how he’d forgotten, and he stared at the name for 30 seconds until his right eye ached and he had to touch a button to put light on the screen three times.
Grow up and call him, he chastised himself.
He hit send and closed his eyes, partially to rest his right eye and partially to pray that he didn’t pick up. Answering machines could be so much more forgiving.
“Kurt?”
He was never that lucky.
“Puck!” he said, way too cheerful and loud. “What’s up?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know, you called me, man.”
“Oh, uh... yeah.” Kurt laughed. “Um, yeah. I was just calling because you said you were coming by the hospital tomorrow and you don’t have to because I won’t be there. I’m at home now? The new house, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Puck answered, his voice lower than usual, like maybe he’d been sleeping, even if it was only just past nine at night. “Well, I guess I’ll see you then.”
“I guess?” Kurt’s heart was in his throat. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
With the distinct feeling of being dumped, Kurt curled up on his side in the room that felt more like a hotel room than his actual room, on the bed that was different than his bed, and let himself soak in some good old-fashioned pity.
*
He woke up at just past two in the morning, eye throbbing and uncomfortably aware of the distance between himself and the meds in the kitchen downstairs. He was still fully clothed but somebody had pulled a blanket over him. He shifted up and didn’t bother turning on his light. All it would do was blind his good eye. Instead he put his feet one in front of the other and felt outwards as he navigated a room he just barely knew.
At least he hadn’t been there long enough to get the floor messed up. He could see a sliver of light from the door and he almost pumped his fist when he got there. There were small squares of light that lit up the sides of the stairs but he still took each stair like it would break if he stepped on it too fast.
When he made it to the bottom, he was shocked to find the light in the kitchen already on. He blinked a few times before the shape of Finn came into focus at the kitchen table. He got a wave and gave one back.
“The good cookies are on top of the fridge,” Finn muttered. “Do you want me to get them for you?”
Kurt shook his head, seeing the small orange bottle on the island. He walked towards where he thought the cups were and found Finn on his feet beside him. He bristled but didn’t say anything. It was glass after all. At least he handed it to him rather than ask what he wanted.
He went to the fridge and filled the cup with water.
“Our parents spared no expense, huh?”
“Mom kind of manipulated your dad a bit.” Finn gave a small smile. “All she had to do was say that this was our first ‘family’ home and he crumbled.”
Kurt laughed, too. His dad was a hopeless romantic. A pang of something hit his chest as he thought about not being there for a lot of the firsts. He opened the little orange bottle and pulled out two pills, swallowing them with a gulp of water.
“So what’s got you up and eating the better part of a plate of cookies at this time of night?”
Finn froze. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“That was kind of implied,” Kurt teased. “What’s on your mind?”
A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed before Finn broke. “Is it just me or are relationships more crap than they’re worth?”
Kurt didn’t point out that he hadn’t had that much experience. Because whatever kind of demented relationship he’d developed in the last few days had been... well. Freaking confusing. He just nodded when Finn looked at him and let that mean whatever Finn needed it to be.
“You like Puck, don’t you?”
Kurt choked on the sip of water he was about to take. “I like Puck how?”
Finn just looked at him.
“You haven’t even seen me and Puck together in months,” he squeaked.
“Puck’s been at the hospital for three days, dude.”
Kurt shook his head. “Two days. I only spent the night twice.”
“He was there the first night, too. I called him kind of freaking out and had to talk him out of going down to lock up and beating the crap out of Dave but then he went straight to the hospital to sit with me while they did CAT scans and stuff.”
“Why didn’t he come in?”
“He wasn’t family? Though that didn’t stop him from trying.” Finn smiled.“ He charmed one nurse so hard I think he could have gotten her to say yes to a marriage proposal. Still no loophole to see you.”
Kurt stared at the cup in his hands for an extremely long time, so long that he was pretty sure that Finn might get up and leave him. Finally though he looked up at him.
“You’re right. Relationships freaking suck.”
Kurt gave a bitter laugh. “Need me to help you back upstairs?”
“No way. Where are those cookies?”
*
When the doorbell rang the next morning, Kurt was in the middle of moping, listening to music on his chaise lounge. It just barely registered; he wasn’t expecting anyone. His stomach hurt if he thought about it. Until the door to his room swung open and Puck walked in with his guitar slung over his back.
He pulled the earbuds out and stared.
“... what?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?”
“Am I late or something? I didn’t know we had an official date or something.”
Kurt’s tongue felt too big in his mouth, so he stuttered. “You-you... you said, ‘I guess I’ll see you later’.”
“Today is later.”
“I thought you were... I thought that you...” Kurt flailed his arms in every direction. “I don’t even KNOW what I thought. But I didn’t think you’d be coming to my house.”
“Your brain is scary, Hummel.”
The thing was, he couldn’t actually deny that. “What’s with the guitar?”
Puck perched himself on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “Ah, funny thing, the guitar plays music. Music I need to practice to satisfy my sadistic teacher.”
Kurt would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t hurt worse than it was worth.
*
Every day for almost a week Puck would show up with his guitar and sometimes food -- his mother had forced him to take chicken noodle soup-- and Kurt and he would spend the better part of their afternoons playing music. Mostly they practiced Puck’s version of “Just to See You Smile”, but sometimes they’d goof off and play songs they’d played in New Directions, and occasionally they would sing songs they could never ever get away with in an on-campus activity.
Carole, who still didn’t really like Puck and made that clear when she could, started to warm to him when he brought her a dozen home baked brownies (from his mom) and a genuine apology letter (from him). Burt was dubious but could see that his son was happy and that was enough for him. Finn was... hesitant. Kurt could see there was something beyond just the Quinn thing but didn’t want to ask.
Even if he was in complete pain and looked like he’d gone six rounds with a professional fighter, he was happier than he’d been in months. Except. Well. Except, Puck hadn’t kissed him. Maybe he was just going crazy, maybe Puck was looking for friendship. He’d certainly burned a lot of bridges at school... but there were moments. Moments where he paused in the middle of a song just to check what Kurt was thinking. Or where he’d play the beginning of a standard he knew that Kurt really loved.
It wasn’t like he knew what to look for. His one almost relationship so far had been with Blaine, who made taking things at a glacial pace seem like going too fast. He just. He wanted to go somewhere faster, somewhere more. He felt like a horndog or something, but every time he was around Puck for more than ten minutes the only thing he could think of was, ‘Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.’
On Saturday late afternoon, Puck didn’t show up with his guitar. He waited at the bottom of the stairs even after Carole called him down and even watched as Kurt looked like a complete fool stumbling down the stairs. He wasn’t wearing his usual uniform of flannel and jeans but a polo and jeans instead. Kurt’s stomach instantly filled with butterflies. If he didn’t know better... but what the hell did he know?
“You’ve been cooped up too long,” Puck stated. “Carole and I agreed you need out of the house for something other than a doctor’s appointment.”
Kurt looked at Carole who winked and nodded. “Get out of here, kid. And if you’re back before ten you are grounded.”
“One ground rule,” Kurt said and Puck seemed genuinely concerned. “Anywhere but ‘Breadsticks’. Seriously. Anywhere.”
Puck nodded solemnly then broke into a small laugh. “I guess I can handle that condition.”
They got into Puck’s car and Kurt breathed in the familiar scent of Puck. He busied himself buckling in so as not to look completely lame when Puck got in on his side. It was probably futile, but it was worth a try. Puck turned in his seat.
“Okay so ‘Breadsticks’ is out,” Puck stated. “Where do you want to go?”
“You want the truth?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “No, lie to me.”
“I want a burger. A huge, completely horrible for me burger and fries. I get that we have to keep dad on a strict diet but...”
“Man can not live on salt free crap alone?” Puck finished for him. “Kewpee’s?”
Kurt could kiss him just for saying the word, well that and a million other reasons. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
*
The place was surprisingly dead for five o’clock on a Saturday but it didn’t really matter to Kurt. Closer to food. Greasy greasy food.
“What do you want?” Puck asked and Kurt had to really focus on the words above him to get them to stay still. When he finally did he went to grab his wallet just to be brushed back by Puck, who ordered and handed over his credit card in one fail swoop.
“Hey, I can pay for myself!”
Puck leveled him with a look and Kurt had a weird feeling in the back of his brain. Even more so when Puck ordered it to go. They filled their sodas in silence and went back to the car.
“Where are we going?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a surprise.”
Puck laughed. “Well now you do. Relax.”
Kurt stared out the window as Lima passed by. Things looked familiar but it felt like it had been literally forever since he’d seen most of it. When they passed by an old empty Subway and then a place to get a barber shop shave he started piecing it together but before he could articulate it they were pulling into McKinley’s parking lot. He stared at the school with a mixture of fear and fondness.
“I think it’s closed,” he said, his voice higher than it meant to be. “It’s the holidays.”
Puck didn’t listen to him, just got out of the car with the food and headed straight to the side entrance of the theater. Against his better judgment he got out of the car and ran to catch up.
“Are you crazy Puck? We could get arrested. Are you going to just break in? You have a record!”
A set of keys were waved in front of his face and Puck rolled his eyes. “As if I would risk juvie again. You know who owns this place? Well I’ve got ins with her. It’s ours.”
Ours made Kurt’s stomach turn into a series of bubbles. He smiled, thankful for the dark. Even more so for the fact that Puck had taken his hand to lead him down the aisles of the auditorium and onto the stairs that lead to the stage.
“Wait here,” Puck said. “Got to get the lights.”
Thirty seconds later the lights turned on and by the time Puck was back Kurt had set up an impromptu dinner table on the piano bench. Puck was smiling as he sat down, so large and happy that Kurt couldn’t think of any other reason for him to be smiling like that at him. Over food. In a -- okay, only semi -- romantic space. It was a date. He was on a date with Noah Puckerman.
He threw caution to the wind and closed the distance between the two of them.
The first kiss was too fierce, probably due to lack of depth perception, but when he pulled back Puck came back in to give him a much softer kiss. His smile was softer, but still gave him bubbles. “Sure, you do this before the burgers.”
Kurt laughed. “I have my priorities in order, do you?”
Puck kissed him again. “Definitely. And I know where the microwave is.”
Before Kurt could think of a retort they were laying on the ground, making out like neither of them required oxygen. He felt light headed and happy and all the silly moments over the last week seemed to fade into obscurity as he thought about the moment he was in.
*
A while and a trip to the microwave later, they lay on their sides staring at each other as they ate.
“You know, now that Karofsky is up shit river without a boat, you could come back,” Puck casually said, as he grabbed one of Kurt’s fries.
Kurt tensed up. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about that as soon as he heard that Karofsky was in jail. It would be so easy, just come back with his tail between his legs. He wanted to, actually. But then again he didn’t know if he could.
“There are a lot of bad memories here,” he said softly. “A lot of things I want to forget.”
Puck lifted a hand up and steadied his face so that he could lay a soft kiss on Kurt’s lips. “We could change those bad memories to good ones. Come on. Don’t let one jack ass win.”
Kurt turned away from Puck.
“Oh come on,” Puck put his arm on Kurt’s shoulder. “There have been a lot of good memories too, right? Sectionals? Mr. Schue getting us another year?”
“Slushies in the face, swirlies and homophobic slurs. Are you ready for that?” Kurt turned to him and saw the hesitation in his eyes. His stomach dropped a little, because he knew that he couldn’t ask someone else to go through what he went through. He might feel a little lost at Dalton, but he’d get into the swing of things eventually.
There was a long silence.
“Can you take me home, my eye hurts.” It was a weak lie, but he heard Puck cleaning up the bags behind him.
“Wait.”
Thirty seconds and the lights went off, a little more and he felt Puck grabbing at his arm. They got to the car and made the drive to his house in a painfully awkward silence. He cause sight of the clock. It wasn’t even nine. He figured Carole would understand.
*
Two days later he got a text message from Puck that read : “Can I tlk 2 u?”
He deleted it.
An email.
He deleted it.
“Kurt! Pick up the phone,” Finn called up from down stairs.
Apparently Puck played dirty pool. He debated just hanging up but the only two plugged in phones were in his parents’ room and in the kitchen. Neither of which boded well for secrecy. He was getting remarkably better at getting down the stairs but took his time anyway.
“Hello?”
“You know, you are one hard person to get a hold of,” Puck snapped.
Kurt looked at where Finn was pretending to look in the fridge and lowered his voice. “Well did you ever think I didn’t want to talk to you?”
“What did I do? You’re the one who just made wild assumptions about me and then expected instant answers.”
He deflated a little; Puck had a point. “Okay. Maybe I didn’t handle it that well. But... my point still stands. I can’t do that to you. I can’t make you number two on the hit list at McKinley. Hell, you’re a football player, you might out rank me.”
“And shouldn’t I be given the choice whether or not I cared?”
“Remember when you shaved your hair and people treated you like crap? Now take that and multiply it by a hundred. Every day. For the next two years.”
“Listen to me, I. don’t. care.”
A lump formed in the base of his throat and he was afraid his voice might crack and whatever dignity he had left-- admittedly minimal -- would be gone. “I care, okay? I don’t want to see that happen to you. I sure as heck don’t want to be the reason it happens to you. I’m... sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
He hung the phone up with a little more vigor than demanded and heard a soft crack. On further inspection, though, it was fine. Finn, however, was four feet away from him and staring at him in that weird way that he had. The way that made Kurt feel guilty even when he wasn’t, which this time he totally was.
Finn lifted his hands and grabbed a tin. “Cookies?”
*
“So, let me get this right. You are going back to a school you admit to not entirely liking, to be miles away from the guy you seem to really like and the school that at least has a glee club you don’t want to run screaming from. All of this because you are afraid of what it’ll do to Puck’s reputation. Who, by the way, has told you he doesn’t care about that.”
Kurt took another bite from his cookie. “Sorta.”
“Sort of?”
He groaned. “Okay, exactly. Exactly like that. I mean. It isn’t like Puck is known to have an attention span longer than most Fox executives, what happens when hot chick number 4 stumbles in or if Santana calls.”
“Then his reputation will be fine and your heart will be broken. His face as well, by the way.” Finn put his hands together and looked up. “Please Jesus give me a reason to punch his face.”
“Shut up, he’d never hurt me like that.”
Finn smiled. “So what are you worrying about?”
Apparently, no answer was his answer... and he had to talk to his parents.
*
Kurt debated back and forth about whether or not he was going to make a grand entrance. He’d had an eye appointment that morning, and he was still stuck with the patch that went with nothing he owned… but it had been a few months. Even if they were a bunch of crazy people, they were his bunch of crazy people and he was not above walking in and drawing their eyes. In the end he settled for something in the middle.
He waited for the bell to ring, clutched the red paper he had to give to Mr. Schue and stepped through the door. It was loud enough for no one to notice so he stepped carefully over to where Mr. Schue’s back was to him and tapped his shoulder.
“Um, Mr. Schue?” he asked, like he had a thousand times before.
And just like the thousand times before he turned around and said, “Ah, Mr. Hummel.” Only this time his eyes went wide and he looked between his eye and the paper and his back. He was pulled into an awkward hug. “Kurt!”
That brought the attention of the whole class, all of them out of their seat before he could find Puck in the crowd. He smiled and took all the hugs, even from the girl from AV who he had no idea was even in New Directions, and from Brittany who asked where his parrot was.
Finn, who was the only one who knew, still looked happy to see him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Hey, Bro.”
“Hey,” Kurt dramatically gasped. ”-Loosen up? Just out of the hospital.”
Finn blushed as he pulled back.
Then there was Puck, who hadn’t gotten out of his seat. Who seemed to be stuck there. Who he hadn’t talked to for a week. For one heart stopping moment he was afraid that Puck asking him to be there was just polite or something. Pillow talk, though they hadn’t actually had pillow talk… He waved nervously and bit his lower lip.
Puck stood up and people kind of pulled away and stared at him. Kurt was trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not when Puck gave him a hug that rivaled Finn’s. This time Kurt didn’t make a joke he just inhaled and smiled.
“I thought you were going back to Dalton?” Puck asked and Kurt swore Puck was blushing.
Kurt smiled, his answer low and teasing. “Like I’d give up a chance to see you sing country for a crowd.”
Puck’s smile was actually a little intoxicating and Kurt leaned in just a little before he heard Finn cough beside them. He looked around and everyone was looking directly at them and it was totally Kurt’s turn to blush.
“No need for a big production,” he tried. “Isn’t this a glee club or something?”
They all walked to their seats and it was just assumed that Kurt would sit next to Puck. He thought back to the thrill he got from holding Blaine’s hand when they ran down the hall of Dalton for the first time. Remembered the feeling of ‘fitting in’ or whatever he thought he was doing at that school.
His hand brushed up against Puck’s, just barely touching. Tina sang an amazing version of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” and while he didn’t actually fit in, no one did. And that felt so much better.