When I Fall
Title: When I Fall
Author: Harikari
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Quinn and Puck. No pairings.
Disclaimer: Not mine. This was written for fun, not profit.
Warnings: Fluff, strong friendship, somewhat graphic, mild angst, strong language, possible spoilers for the entire first season, etc.
Word Count: 2137
AN: Written for the "injured" prompt on my 10_hurt_comfort table. Feedback is appreciated.
Summary: Quinn slips on a patch of ice, Kurt is injured and Puck isn't a complete jerk.
-----
"It's five," cut in Kurt and both Quinn and Puck went quiet.
The blond rolled her eyes and snapped the buttons on her jacket as the football player moved to secure his guitar in its case. She stood and bent to retrieve her purse, binder and Algebra textbook before turning to watch the soprano as he slipped on his coat and stuffed his folder of sheet music into his satchel.
"Hey," started Quinn and Kurt eyed her as he shrugged the satchel's strap onto his shoulder. "Kurt. Can you give me a ride to Brittany's house? Please? She lives close to you, right?"
Puck snapped his case shut unnecessarily loudly and muttered something the blond couldn't decipher under his breath.
"Right. She lives a few houses down from me." Kurt stared at her for a few moments before his gaze shifted slowly to Puck.
Quinn resisted the urge to say something biting to the slender teenager. She and the mohawk sporting jock had been arguing for almost the entire time the three of them were supposed to have been using the choir room to work on their glee assignment (Mr. Schue had separated them all into groups of twos and threes for the week with strict instructions to work together and be ready to perform something brilliant the following Tuesday). The self proclaimed diva knew that she was upset with Puck and knew exactly why -- rather than head home from school with her yet-to-be-born child's father like usual -- she was asking him for a ride to Brittany's place.
"Sure," he finally answered as Puck was smoothing a twist in the strap of his worn looking backpack. "No problem, Quinn. I'll give you a ride."
The former cheerleader straightened her stance and managed a small smile for the boy in front of her. "Thank you," she said and both she and the soprano swept out of the room.
They were nearing the double doors that led out into the parking lot and Kurt was just opening his mouth as if to say something when Puck charged out of the music room behind them.
"Quinn! What..." he trailed off.
Both Quinn and Kurt stopped walking and turned to face the football player. The blond gripped her books tighter and frowned at the jock while she waited for him to continue. Next to her Kurt shifted but didn't leave them alone or ask if he should leave them alone to bicker -- this was probably because when he had asked them that very question about an hour or so earlier they had both nearly bitten his head off ( if she was remembering correctly they had shouted something along the lines of 'no, they did not need to be left alone they were fine and can't we all just get back to work now Hummel?').
"When will you be home? I need to know. Because you know how my mom gets. If she goes through the trouble of making dinner and sets the table and you-"
"Just let her know I'll be staying with Brittany tonight," interrupted Quinn. She bit her tongue; she didn't want to say something out of line about Puck's house certainly not being her home or about Puck's mother being kind of crazy. Because Puck's house was the only home she really had right now. Because it wasn't the woman's fault that the blond was in the situation she was in.
Puck took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, eyes narrowed, he shot a look at Kurt. Quinn shot a quick glance at the diva herself -- he appeared to be studying his expensive looking winter boots or maybe the hallway tile beneath his boots very carefully -- before turning back to the jock.
After what felt like a long and awkward pause, Puck turned away from the soprano. "Don't be a bitch, Quinn. Don't be stup-"
But before the hulking football player could finish his sentence the blond was spinning around, pushing open the double doors. Outside she was met with ice cold air and a sky overcast with gray. She had reached the squat set of concrete stairs that led down to the open lot when she heard Kurt's boots smack-smacking behind her.
A strange and very strong sensation crawled up her spine and made her shiver. She clenched her teeth. She hated Puck right now. And she hated Mr. Schue for teaming her up with the teenage punk that circumstances now forced her to share a home with every day of the week. And she most definitely was not looking forward to dealing with the undoubtedly mocking comments the male version of Rachel Berry would undoubtedly shoot her way during their impending drive to Brittany's house.
She heard the double doors bounce violently open again. Then, "Damn it. Quinn."
Quinn ignored the football player. Kurt on her heels, she gripped the hand rail with her free hand and hurried down the stairs. She reached the last step and...
Gasped. Because suddenly there was a patch of slick ice under her shoe and she was slipping. Had slipped. She heard Puck's curse and Kurt's startled inhale right behind her and then an arm slipped half around her waist and-
Something soft broke her fall. Quinn blinked and slowly breathed in and out. Both of her hands were over the slight bump of her stomach. She had dropped her school books (they were scattered around her on the ground). Suddenly Puck was in front of her, hovering and cussing and asking her if she was okay and if the baby was okay and she realized she felt...fine.
"Yeah," she said and her voice came out soft. She coughed a little and shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "Yes. I'm fine thanks to..." She trailed off; realized she was basically sitting in Kurt Hummel's lap. The boy had apparently grabbed for her in an attempt to stop her from slipping; he had ended up falling with her and breaking her fall instead.
"Kurt," she said and took the hand Puck was holding out. He pulled her up easily and held onto her for a few seconds while she got her balance. She brushed at her clothes and looked up when she felt the football player let go; he was eyeing her as if afraid she would collapse. Not quite sure how to react to a seemingly genuinely worried Puck, she pursed her lips and spun around. "Thank y-"
She stopped dead at the sight of the soprano. He was still on the ground. He was sitting up but his back was to the slick bottom step Quinn had slipped on and he had curled his legs so that his knees were close to his chest. One of his hands was splayed over his face, obscuring the blonds view of it. "Are you okay?"
"Dude. What-"
But Puck shut up and moved immediately to kneel next to the smaller boy when Kurt suddenly leaned to the side, moved his splayed hand and spit out an alarming amount of blood onto the ground.
"Oh my God," breathed Quinn.
"Hummel. Kurt." Puck put a hand on the smaller teenager's narrow shoulder. "What is it? Did you hit your head or...something? Do-"
He went silent and watched when the soprano coughed and spit again instead of answering.
More blood. It was more diluted as if the bleeding was letting up a little, not as vivid and bright red... But still. He had spit up more blood.
Quinn made a gasping, choking noise in her throat. She felt tears welling in her eyes and fought them back. What was wrong with him? They had just slipped.
Kurt coughed another wet sounding cough. And then in a flash of movement Puck was slipping the soprano's arm around his shoulders and hauling him up.
Once standing Kurt faltered a little but Puck steadied him and didn't move the arm from his shoulders. "Come on," said the football player as the soprano started to shake his head. "I'll drive you to the ER. Quinn?"
"I'm coming," she said and stooped to gather her school books and her purse. Then she hurried to grab the keys Puck had pulled from his pocket with his free hand. She opened the back door of his car and Puck dropped Kurt onto the seat so he was sitting sideways facing them, his boots still touching the asphalt. Puck took the satchel still around the soprano's shoulder and (awkwardly) grabbed Quinn's books and purse and moved away. The smaller boy was frowning and wiping at his mouth and shaking his head.
Quinn swallowed and took a deep breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She shouldn't have rushed down the school stairs like that. The soprano would be fine if she hadn't rushed down the school stairs like that. All because of yet another petty little fight with Puck...
Suddenly Kurt looked as if he was trying to stand. Quinn bent to put a hand on his shoulder. "Go on," she said. "It's okay. We're going to drive you to the hospital. Just get in and buckle up. I'll sit next to y-"
"No."
Quinn blinked. Puck -- in the process of throwing his backpack and Kurt's bag and Quinn's things into his trunk -- paused.
"I'm fine," continued Kurt. "I'm okay. It's just my tongue. I landed hard and I bit my tongue and maybe bruised or scraped my back a little."
"Are you sure?" asked Quinn. She eyed the slender teenager. He had used the funny voice one uses when trying to use their tongue as little as possible. But all that blood...
"We should take you anyway," spoke up Puck before she could go on. "You might need stitches or something."
Kurt looked at them and didn't say anything for a long moment. Quinn squeezed his shoulder, relief flooding her. He wasn't hurt. Not bad. He had bitten his tongue and maybe hitting his back that way on the hard, sharp edge of a stair had stunned the air out of him for a second but he would be okay.
"Maybe...maybe I can call my dad and he can take me?"
Puck walked back over to them with his phone already in his hand. "What's the number?"
Kurt hesitated for a second before telling him.
Puck didn't hand the phone to Kurt; instead he put it against his own ear and waited.
"We'll wait with you," promised Quinn. "And if you want I can take your Lincoln and leave it at your house for you. I know where Brit lives and if I do have any trouble finding it I'll just ask her."
The blond was a little surprised when Kurt just nodded, dug into his jacket pocket and handed her a ring of keys. "Thanks, Quinn. You can leave them in the flower pot next to the front door."
Puck had moved away to murmur into the phone. He moved closer abruptly and held the cell to Kurt's ear. Kurt said a few quick words ('I'm okay' and 'yes' and 'no') and then said goodbye.
"We'll wait with you," repeated Puck as he tucked his phone away. "And Quinn can take your ride home if you need her to." He was hovering in the open car doorway next to Quinn, frowning at the slender teenager as if afraid he would keel over any second.
Quinn and Kurt shared a small smile. Then Kurt wiped at his mouth again with the back of his hand and grimaced. He looked down at his jacket and his pants with narrowed eyes. "I hope my clothes weren't ruined."
Puck rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Quinn said, "Thanks for helping me out Kurt. For-"
The diva waved a hand dismissively. "Sure. No problem. I couldn't just let you fall."
At those words the former cheerleader felt a sudden, powerful affection for the boy in front of her. For Puck and for everyone in glee club. Not all of them were close, not all of them were Cheerios or divas or football players. They were all so very different and they argued and they talked about each other behind backs and they dueled over solos and crushes.
But when it counted, Quinn realized, they were all there for each other. When it counted they were friends.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said and then bent slightly at the waist and gathered a startled Kurt into a tight hug.
Puck snorted but didn't move from where he was hovering close to them and shielding them both from the intensity of the wind that had kicked up.
After a few tense moments beat by, Kurt hugged her back.
Author: Harikari
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Quinn and Puck. No pairings.
Disclaimer: Not mine. This was written for fun, not profit.
Warnings: Fluff, strong friendship, somewhat graphic, mild angst, strong language, possible spoilers for the entire first season, etc.
Word Count: 2137
AN: Written for the "injured" prompt on my 10_hurt_comfort table. Feedback is appreciated.
Summary: Quinn slips on a patch of ice, Kurt is injured and Puck isn't a complete jerk.
-----
"It's five," cut in Kurt and both Quinn and Puck went quiet.
The blond rolled her eyes and snapped the buttons on her jacket as the football player moved to secure his guitar in its case. She stood and bent to retrieve her purse, binder and Algebra textbook before turning to watch the soprano as he slipped on his coat and stuffed his folder of sheet music into his satchel.
"Hey," started Quinn and Kurt eyed her as he shrugged the satchel's strap onto his shoulder. "Kurt. Can you give me a ride to Brittany's house? Please? She lives close to you, right?"
Puck snapped his case shut unnecessarily loudly and muttered something the blond couldn't decipher under his breath.
"Right. She lives a few houses down from me." Kurt stared at her for a few moments before his gaze shifted slowly to Puck.
Quinn resisted the urge to say something biting to the slender teenager. She and the mohawk sporting jock had been arguing for almost the entire time the three of them were supposed to have been using the choir room to work on their glee assignment (Mr. Schue had separated them all into groups of twos and threes for the week with strict instructions to work together and be ready to perform something brilliant the following Tuesday). The self proclaimed diva knew that she was upset with Puck and knew exactly why -- rather than head home from school with her yet-to-be-born child's father like usual -- she was asking him for a ride to Brittany's place.
"Sure," he finally answered as Puck was smoothing a twist in the strap of his worn looking backpack. "No problem, Quinn. I'll give you a ride."
The former cheerleader straightened her stance and managed a small smile for the boy in front of her. "Thank you," she said and both she and the soprano swept out of the room.
They were nearing the double doors that led out into the parking lot and Kurt was just opening his mouth as if to say something when Puck charged out of the music room behind them.
"Quinn! What..." he trailed off.
Both Quinn and Kurt stopped walking and turned to face the football player. The blond gripped her books tighter and frowned at the jock while she waited for him to continue. Next to her Kurt shifted but didn't leave them alone or ask if he should leave them alone to bicker -- this was probably because when he had asked them that very question about an hour or so earlier they had both nearly bitten his head off ( if she was remembering correctly they had shouted something along the lines of 'no, they did not need to be left alone they were fine and can't we all just get back to work now Hummel?').
"When will you be home? I need to know. Because you know how my mom gets. If she goes through the trouble of making dinner and sets the table and you-"
"Just let her know I'll be staying with Brittany tonight," interrupted Quinn. She bit her tongue; she didn't want to say something out of line about Puck's house certainly not being her home or about Puck's mother being kind of crazy. Because Puck's house was the only home she really had right now. Because it wasn't the woman's fault that the blond was in the situation she was in.
Puck took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, eyes narrowed, he shot a look at Kurt. Quinn shot a quick glance at the diva herself -- he appeared to be studying his expensive looking winter boots or maybe the hallway tile beneath his boots very carefully -- before turning back to the jock.
After what felt like a long and awkward pause, Puck turned away from the soprano. "Don't be a bitch, Quinn. Don't be stup-"
But before the hulking football player could finish his sentence the blond was spinning around, pushing open the double doors. Outside she was met with ice cold air and a sky overcast with gray. She had reached the squat set of concrete stairs that led down to the open lot when she heard Kurt's boots smack-smacking behind her.
A strange and very strong sensation crawled up her spine and made her shiver. She clenched her teeth. She hated Puck right now. And she hated Mr. Schue for teaming her up with the teenage punk that circumstances now forced her to share a home with every day of the week. And she most definitely was not looking forward to dealing with the undoubtedly mocking comments the male version of Rachel Berry would undoubtedly shoot her way during their impending drive to Brittany's house.
She heard the double doors bounce violently open again. Then, "Damn it. Quinn."
Quinn ignored the football player. Kurt on her heels, she gripped the hand rail with her free hand and hurried down the stairs. She reached the last step and...
Gasped. Because suddenly there was a patch of slick ice under her shoe and she was slipping. Had slipped. She heard Puck's curse and Kurt's startled inhale right behind her and then an arm slipped half around her waist and-
Something soft broke her fall. Quinn blinked and slowly breathed in and out. Both of her hands were over the slight bump of her stomach. She had dropped her school books (they were scattered around her on the ground). Suddenly Puck was in front of her, hovering and cussing and asking her if she was okay and if the baby was okay and she realized she felt...fine.
"Yeah," she said and her voice came out soft. She coughed a little and shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "Yes. I'm fine thanks to..." She trailed off; realized she was basically sitting in Kurt Hummel's lap. The boy had apparently grabbed for her in an attempt to stop her from slipping; he had ended up falling with her and breaking her fall instead.
"Kurt," she said and took the hand Puck was holding out. He pulled her up easily and held onto her for a few seconds while she got her balance. She brushed at her clothes and looked up when she felt the football player let go; he was eyeing her as if afraid she would collapse. Not quite sure how to react to a seemingly genuinely worried Puck, she pursed her lips and spun around. "Thank y-"
She stopped dead at the sight of the soprano. He was still on the ground. He was sitting up but his back was to the slick bottom step Quinn had slipped on and he had curled his legs so that his knees were close to his chest. One of his hands was splayed over his face, obscuring the blonds view of it. "Are you okay?"
"Dude. What-"
But Puck shut up and moved immediately to kneel next to the smaller boy when Kurt suddenly leaned to the side, moved his splayed hand and spit out an alarming amount of blood onto the ground.
"Oh my God," breathed Quinn.
"Hummel. Kurt." Puck put a hand on the smaller teenager's narrow shoulder. "What is it? Did you hit your head or...something? Do-"
He went silent and watched when the soprano coughed and spit again instead of answering.
More blood. It was more diluted as if the bleeding was letting up a little, not as vivid and bright red... But still. He had spit up more blood.
Quinn made a gasping, choking noise in her throat. She felt tears welling in her eyes and fought them back. What was wrong with him? They had just slipped.
Kurt coughed another wet sounding cough. And then in a flash of movement Puck was slipping the soprano's arm around his shoulders and hauling him up.
Once standing Kurt faltered a little but Puck steadied him and didn't move the arm from his shoulders. "Come on," said the football player as the soprano started to shake his head. "I'll drive you to the ER. Quinn?"
"I'm coming," she said and stooped to gather her school books and her purse. Then she hurried to grab the keys Puck had pulled from his pocket with his free hand. She opened the back door of his car and Puck dropped Kurt onto the seat so he was sitting sideways facing them, his boots still touching the asphalt. Puck took the satchel still around the soprano's shoulder and (awkwardly) grabbed Quinn's books and purse and moved away. The smaller boy was frowning and wiping at his mouth and shaking his head.
Quinn swallowed and took a deep breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She shouldn't have rushed down the school stairs like that. The soprano would be fine if she hadn't rushed down the school stairs like that. All because of yet another petty little fight with Puck...
Suddenly Kurt looked as if he was trying to stand. Quinn bent to put a hand on his shoulder. "Go on," she said. "It's okay. We're going to drive you to the hospital. Just get in and buckle up. I'll sit next to y-"
"No."
Quinn blinked. Puck -- in the process of throwing his backpack and Kurt's bag and Quinn's things into his trunk -- paused.
"I'm fine," continued Kurt. "I'm okay. It's just my tongue. I landed hard and I bit my tongue and maybe bruised or scraped my back a little."
"Are you sure?" asked Quinn. She eyed the slender teenager. He had used the funny voice one uses when trying to use their tongue as little as possible. But all that blood...
"We should take you anyway," spoke up Puck before she could go on. "You might need stitches or something."
Kurt looked at them and didn't say anything for a long moment. Quinn squeezed his shoulder, relief flooding her. He wasn't hurt. Not bad. He had bitten his tongue and maybe hitting his back that way on the hard, sharp edge of a stair had stunned the air out of him for a second but he would be okay.
"Maybe...maybe I can call my dad and he can take me?"
Puck walked back over to them with his phone already in his hand. "What's the number?"
Kurt hesitated for a second before telling him.
Puck didn't hand the phone to Kurt; instead he put it against his own ear and waited.
"We'll wait with you," promised Quinn. "And if you want I can take your Lincoln and leave it at your house for you. I know where Brit lives and if I do have any trouble finding it I'll just ask her."
The blond was a little surprised when Kurt just nodded, dug into his jacket pocket and handed her a ring of keys. "Thanks, Quinn. You can leave them in the flower pot next to the front door."
Puck had moved away to murmur into the phone. He moved closer abruptly and held the cell to Kurt's ear. Kurt said a few quick words ('I'm okay' and 'yes' and 'no') and then said goodbye.
"We'll wait with you," repeated Puck as he tucked his phone away. "And Quinn can take your ride home if you need her to." He was hovering in the open car doorway next to Quinn, frowning at the slender teenager as if afraid he would keel over any second.
Quinn and Kurt shared a small smile. Then Kurt wiped at his mouth again with the back of his hand and grimaced. He looked down at his jacket and his pants with narrowed eyes. "I hope my clothes weren't ruined."
Puck rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Quinn said, "Thanks for helping me out Kurt. For-"
The diva waved a hand dismissively. "Sure. No problem. I couldn't just let you fall."
At those words the former cheerleader felt a sudden, powerful affection for the boy in front of her. For Puck and for everyone in glee club. Not all of them were close, not all of them were Cheerios or divas or football players. They were all so very different and they argued and they talked about each other behind backs and they dueled over solos and crushes.
But when it counted, Quinn realized, they were all there for each other. When it counted they were friends.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said and then bent slightly at the waist and gathered a startled Kurt into a tight hug.
Puck snorted but didn't move from where he was hovering close to them and shielding them both from the intensity of the wind that had kicked up.
After a few tense moments beat by, Kurt hugged her back.