In the Sky Away, PG
Title: In the Sky Away
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: All four Hudson-Hummels
Spoilers: Up to Original Songs
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2,196
Summary: Kurt might be melodramatic, but his family knows that losing Pavarotti matters. For this prompt.
"Dude, you sound like a Disney princess."
"I'm sure you meant it as an insult, but I take it as a compliment." Kurt turned from his vanity to see Finn standing in his doorway. "I thought we agreed we were going to knock?"
"Your door was open," Finn pointed out, like that mattered. He came in before Kurt could say anything. "Seriously. Did you really manage to train that bird?"
"Yes. Well, some." Kurt looked affectionately at Pavarotti's cage. "Or he's training me. I'm not quite sure which it is." A thought belatedly occurred to him. "We're not disturbing you, are we?"
"No. No, I just…" Finn shrugged, and then wandered over and looked closer. "Never was into birds, but he is kind of cute."
Kurt smiled indulgently. "He is, isn't he?" he said.
"You ever have a pet before?" Finn asked.
"No," Kurt sighed. "I remember my mom wanted a cat, but my dad's allergic. He wanted a dog, but my mom said he shed and slobbered enough." Finn snorted, and Kurt smiled. "We talked about it when I was ten. But we decided that the kind of dog we could agree on just wouldn't work."
"Do I even want to know?" Finn asked.
"It was a Dalmatian, Finn, not the French poodle Doberman mix you're undoubtedly picturing. What about you?"
"Oh, I had a goldfish. For about five days."
"Belly up?" Kurt asked sympathetically.
"I think so. I'm still not convinced my mom didn't just flush it. I wanted a snake though."
"I'm sure that idea went over well."
"Huh? No, it- oh. I see. Yeah." Finn sighed and flopped down on Kurt's bed. Kurt pressed his lips together but didn't comment. "I did always kind of want a pet. It would have been nice. But I guess I never minded not having the work, you know?"
"Not really," Kurt said, watching his bird with genuine affection. "It's worth it."
***
"I'm a little worried about Kurt and that bird," Carole confided to Burt as they got ready for bed.
"Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"He talks to it, Burt," Carole said. She slipped off her jeans and into her nightgown and turned the comforter back.
"That's what pets are for, right?" Burt didn't seem nearly as concerned.
"Well, yes," Carole temporized. "But I've heard him, and it just sounds… lonely. He just sounds lonely."
Burt didn't answer as he disappeared into the bathroom. The room was quiet until he returned. "I get what you're saying," he told Carole as he joined her in the bed. "But it doesn't worry me. If it was only that damn bird, I'd be more worried. But I know he's still close with Mercedes, and that Rachel girl, and there's this Blaine kid. And there's our family."
"There is," Carole agreed, but six people didn't sound like a lot to her. Granted, you didn't need much if you had the right six people, but still. She tried not to listen in on Kurt's conversations with Pavarotti, but the tone in his voice made it clear that whatever he was saying was something he didn't tell many people. (And she had overheard some details about this Blaine kid. Kurt had to realize that while she respected his privacy, she wasn't deaf for crying out loud.) "I guess I'm just worried, Burt. He's had rough time of it, and he's in a new school and very much alone. At least at McKinley, he had New Directions."
Burt patted her knee. "He's already in that choir there- what are they called, the Warblers? And at least he's safe." There was a hard edge to his voice as he said that. "He'll be okay."
She wasn't sure if Burt was convincing her or himself, but Carole knew enough not to push it. She smiled, kissed him goodnight, and let herself be convinced. Kurt would settle into Dalton. It was just a matter of time.
***
After a while, you got used to the damn bird, Burt realized. It was like the way Kurt dressed. It just kind of got to the point where it didn't register anymore, now that it was a matter of routine. So when he saw Kurt leaving with a bag of books over one shoulder and the birdcage in the other hand, he almost forgot to mention what he was going to say.
"How long they going to make you keep that thing for, anyway?"
"I don't know," Kurt said, surprised. "Is he bothering you?"
"Nah. I was just wondering." Burt spread a thin (too thin) layer of cream cheese over his bagel. "I mean, it was a hazing stunt, right?"
"Something like that."
"So, you hazed yet?"
"I don't know." Kurt set the cage down for a moment and shifted his bag. "I guess. I mean, I'm singing with them and everything."
"But you still have the bird."
"It's a living thing, Dad."
A living thing. Burt had heard how Kurt talked to the thing, and Carole was right. But hey, that's what a pet was supposed to be, right? Company, a completely trustworthy confidante… a friend. That's why he'd always wanted a dog, until he realized the hours he worked just didn't make it a great idea.
"Yeah, I guess so. Have a good day, buddy."
"You, too, Dad."
Kurt left, cage in hand.
***
It was a bird. It didn't roam the house, it didn't eat much, it wasn't even all that noisy. So three out of the four members of the Hudson-Hummel family didn't even think about Pavarotti all that much. Until the morning that they heard Kurt scream.
***
Finn got there first. "What is it?" he asked, and then stared dumbly at Kurt, who was opening the cage and taking Pavarotti's body out, cradling it in his cupped hands. "Oh, man…."
"Finn?" Kurt looked at him appealingly, and Finn was pretty sure he was about to cry. No, take that back. He was positive Kurt was crying already. Just… quietly. And the way Kurt looked at him, like Finn could somehow make it different….
He took the bird from Kurt. There were days Finn felt like he didn't know much, but today he definitely knew that the bird in his hands was dead.
"Can we try CPR or something?" Kurt asked.
"On a bird?"
Kurt snorted. "I know," he said, wiping his eyes on his pajama cuff. "I just…"
"Yeah. I know." Finn shifted the bird over to one hand and then wrapped the other around Kurt's shoulder, pulling him down to sit beside him on the bed. "I'm sorry."
"What's going on?" Burt was in the doorway.
Kurt looked up. "It's Pavarotti," he said. "He's…" he couldn't finish.
Burt approached and looked over Finn's shoulder. For a minute, Finn was afraid that Burt wouldn't get it, that he'd just tell Kurt to man up. But to Finn's mild surprise, Burt didn't do anything of the kind. He sighed, put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and actually took his hat off for a moment. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he said. "I know he meant a lot to you."
"He did," Kurt agreed.
Burt stood for a long moment with his hand on Kurt's shoulder, and then sighed. "I hate to do this, kiddo, but I've got to get to work. My schedule's booked solid today. And you guys have got school."
"I know."
"You gonna be okay?"
Kurt nodded. "I'll be fine, Dad," he said, wiping his face again. Burt and Finn exchanged glances, and somehow Finn had the feeling he wouldn't be getting in trouble if his parents found out he was late for school today. Burt clapped Kurt on the shoulder one more time and then left the room, putting his cap back on as he went.
"You okay?" Finn asked, gingerly setting Pavarotti back in his cage and then coming back to Kurt's side. It wasn't something he was all that used to or even comfortable with, hugging another guy like this, but somebody had just died.
"I'm not," Kurt confessed. "I just… Finn, I know it's stupid, but-"
"Hey, it's not stupid," Finn insisted. Kurt glared at him, but Finn stood his ground. "It's not, okay? He was your pet. That's a big deal."
"I know," Kurt said in a small voice.
Finn struggled for something to say, looking around Kurt's room. His eyes fell on Kurt's laptop, and he remembered that first connection he'd really had with Kurt, over a year ago. "You know what you should do?" he asked eagerly, because this might actually help. "You should sing about it."
"Sing? I don't think I've ever felt less like singing."
"No, man, that's exactly what you've gotta do." Finn was getting excited now. "Remember that ballad assignment Mr. Schue gave us last year?"
"It was kind of hard to forget," Kurt said in a dry voice.
"Yeah. Well, I remember you getting me to sing 'I'll Stand By You'-"
"To a fetus that wasn't even your child. And that's hardly the least embarrassing part of the story."
"Yeah, but I thought she was at the time," Finn said. "And it did help me. It helped a lot. You should totally do that for Pavarotti."
"You think so?" Kurt asked.
"Totally."
"What would I sing?"
"I'll help you find something," Finn said. He felt a lot better. He couldn't bring the bird back to life, but at least there was something he could do.
***
"Kurt?" Carole knocked on the door.
"Carole. Hi." Kurt's smile was fragile, but more worrying was the fact he was still in his pajamas. "I didn't hear you come home."
"I'm sorry. I just…" she looked from Kurt to the bird in the cage and sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."
"It's all right," Kurt said. "I understand about the trials of night shift. Finn helped me pick a song for Pavarotti, and…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"No need for apologies." Carole looked around. "Did Finn go to school?" Kurt nodded. "What about you, honey? I mean, if you need to stay home for a day-"
"No, I'm planning on going." Kurt heaved a huge sigh. "I just… I don't know what to wear."
That more than anything was a sign that Kurt was feeling adrift. But Carole felt like she was venturing on to thin ice when she offered, "I could help you?" But Kurt nodded.
She came in, but Kurt didn't stand up. So instead of heading to his closet, she sat down on the bed beside him and they both stared moodily through the open door at his clothes. They sat in silence for a long time.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here," Carole finally said, feeling awkward.
"You were at work." Kurt said it simply, with no accusation.
"But you had to go through it alone. I wish I'd known earlier. I wish I could have been there to help you. I wish we could have helped each oth-" Carole cut off, suddenly aware that she wasn't talking about a bird anymore. "Kurt…." She wrapped her arm around him as he started crying. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried, and she rocked him back and forth like she'd done for Finn so many times, stroking his hair.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Everything's going to be all right."
***
Burt didn't approach the subject with Kurt until the day after Regionals. "Were you able to bury Pavarotti?"
"Yes," Kurt said, They were alone in the car, riding to the garage. "We did it at Dalton after Regionals."
Regionals. That was another thing, but that was something completely different. There was also something about Kurt, a lift of his shoulders and a smile playing on his lips. Burt wasn't dumb; he'd seen the way that Blaine kid looked at Kurt as they sang, and he thought that might have something to do with it. But he didn't ask. That wasn't the point. "Well, that's good," he said finally, when he was aware the silence had stretched too long. "Wasn't too hard for you, was it?"
"Funny," Kurt said, "Blaine said the same thing. It did bother me some, but…" he shrugged, still looking out the front window. "But you know, this time, it helped."
"Good."
"I'll still miss him though," Kurt admitted.
Burt wondered if he was supposed to give some sort of advice or meaningful words about death, but damned if he could think of any that Kurt probably wanted to hear at the moment. But Kurt didn't seem bothered. "Mind if I turn on the radio?" he asked. He leaned forward before Burt could even nod permission, and flipped on the classic station.
It was the Beatles' song Blackbird. Burt knew it well, and actually joined in singing. Kurt didn't sing, but as they pulled into the garage, there was a small smile lingering on his lips. And somehow, Burt had the feeling that he'd just said everything Kurt could have wanted to hear.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: All four Hudson-Hummels
Spoilers: Up to Original Songs
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2,196
Summary: Kurt might be melodramatic, but his family knows that losing Pavarotti matters. For this prompt.
"Dude, you sound like a Disney princess."
"I'm sure you meant it as an insult, but I take it as a compliment." Kurt turned from his vanity to see Finn standing in his doorway. "I thought we agreed we were going to knock?"
"Your door was open," Finn pointed out, like that mattered. He came in before Kurt could say anything. "Seriously. Did you really manage to train that bird?"
"Yes. Well, some." Kurt looked affectionately at Pavarotti's cage. "Or he's training me. I'm not quite sure which it is." A thought belatedly occurred to him. "We're not disturbing you, are we?"
"No. No, I just…" Finn shrugged, and then wandered over and looked closer. "Never was into birds, but he is kind of cute."
Kurt smiled indulgently. "He is, isn't he?" he said.
"You ever have a pet before?" Finn asked.
"No," Kurt sighed. "I remember my mom wanted a cat, but my dad's allergic. He wanted a dog, but my mom said he shed and slobbered enough." Finn snorted, and Kurt smiled. "We talked about it when I was ten. But we decided that the kind of dog we could agree on just wouldn't work."
"Do I even want to know?" Finn asked.
"It was a Dalmatian, Finn, not the French poodle Doberman mix you're undoubtedly picturing. What about you?"
"Oh, I had a goldfish. For about five days."
"Belly up?" Kurt asked sympathetically.
"I think so. I'm still not convinced my mom didn't just flush it. I wanted a snake though."
"I'm sure that idea went over well."
"Huh? No, it- oh. I see. Yeah." Finn sighed and flopped down on Kurt's bed. Kurt pressed his lips together but didn't comment. "I did always kind of want a pet. It would have been nice. But I guess I never minded not having the work, you know?"
"Not really," Kurt said, watching his bird with genuine affection. "It's worth it."
***
"I'm a little worried about Kurt and that bird," Carole confided to Burt as they got ready for bed.
"Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"He talks to it, Burt," Carole said. She slipped off her jeans and into her nightgown and turned the comforter back.
"That's what pets are for, right?" Burt didn't seem nearly as concerned.
"Well, yes," Carole temporized. "But I've heard him, and it just sounds… lonely. He just sounds lonely."
Burt didn't answer as he disappeared into the bathroom. The room was quiet until he returned. "I get what you're saying," he told Carole as he joined her in the bed. "But it doesn't worry me. If it was only that damn bird, I'd be more worried. But I know he's still close with Mercedes, and that Rachel girl, and there's this Blaine kid. And there's our family."
"There is," Carole agreed, but six people didn't sound like a lot to her. Granted, you didn't need much if you had the right six people, but still. She tried not to listen in on Kurt's conversations with Pavarotti, but the tone in his voice made it clear that whatever he was saying was something he didn't tell many people. (And she had overheard some details about this Blaine kid. Kurt had to realize that while she respected his privacy, she wasn't deaf for crying out loud.) "I guess I'm just worried, Burt. He's had rough time of it, and he's in a new school and very much alone. At least at McKinley, he had New Directions."
Burt patted her knee. "He's already in that choir there- what are they called, the Warblers? And at least he's safe." There was a hard edge to his voice as he said that. "He'll be okay."
She wasn't sure if Burt was convincing her or himself, but Carole knew enough not to push it. She smiled, kissed him goodnight, and let herself be convinced. Kurt would settle into Dalton. It was just a matter of time.
***
After a while, you got used to the damn bird, Burt realized. It was like the way Kurt dressed. It just kind of got to the point where it didn't register anymore, now that it was a matter of routine. So when he saw Kurt leaving with a bag of books over one shoulder and the birdcage in the other hand, he almost forgot to mention what he was going to say.
"How long they going to make you keep that thing for, anyway?"
"I don't know," Kurt said, surprised. "Is he bothering you?"
"Nah. I was just wondering." Burt spread a thin (too thin) layer of cream cheese over his bagel. "I mean, it was a hazing stunt, right?"
"Something like that."
"So, you hazed yet?"
"I don't know." Kurt set the cage down for a moment and shifted his bag. "I guess. I mean, I'm singing with them and everything."
"But you still have the bird."
"It's a living thing, Dad."
A living thing. Burt had heard how Kurt talked to the thing, and Carole was right. But hey, that's what a pet was supposed to be, right? Company, a completely trustworthy confidante… a friend. That's why he'd always wanted a dog, until he realized the hours he worked just didn't make it a great idea.
"Yeah, I guess so. Have a good day, buddy."
"You, too, Dad."
Kurt left, cage in hand.
***
It was a bird. It didn't roam the house, it didn't eat much, it wasn't even all that noisy. So three out of the four members of the Hudson-Hummel family didn't even think about Pavarotti all that much. Until the morning that they heard Kurt scream.
***
Finn got there first. "What is it?" he asked, and then stared dumbly at Kurt, who was opening the cage and taking Pavarotti's body out, cradling it in his cupped hands. "Oh, man…."
"Finn?" Kurt looked at him appealingly, and Finn was pretty sure he was about to cry. No, take that back. He was positive Kurt was crying already. Just… quietly. And the way Kurt looked at him, like Finn could somehow make it different….
He took the bird from Kurt. There were days Finn felt like he didn't know much, but today he definitely knew that the bird in his hands was dead.
"Can we try CPR or something?" Kurt asked.
"On a bird?"
Kurt snorted. "I know," he said, wiping his eyes on his pajama cuff. "I just…"
"Yeah. I know." Finn shifted the bird over to one hand and then wrapped the other around Kurt's shoulder, pulling him down to sit beside him on the bed. "I'm sorry."
"What's going on?" Burt was in the doorway.
Kurt looked up. "It's Pavarotti," he said. "He's…" he couldn't finish.
Burt approached and looked over Finn's shoulder. For a minute, Finn was afraid that Burt wouldn't get it, that he'd just tell Kurt to man up. But to Finn's mild surprise, Burt didn't do anything of the kind. He sighed, put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and actually took his hat off for a moment. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he said. "I know he meant a lot to you."
"He did," Kurt agreed.
Burt stood for a long moment with his hand on Kurt's shoulder, and then sighed. "I hate to do this, kiddo, but I've got to get to work. My schedule's booked solid today. And you guys have got school."
"I know."
"You gonna be okay?"
Kurt nodded. "I'll be fine, Dad," he said, wiping his face again. Burt and Finn exchanged glances, and somehow Finn had the feeling he wouldn't be getting in trouble if his parents found out he was late for school today. Burt clapped Kurt on the shoulder one more time and then left the room, putting his cap back on as he went.
"You okay?" Finn asked, gingerly setting Pavarotti back in his cage and then coming back to Kurt's side. It wasn't something he was all that used to or even comfortable with, hugging another guy like this, but somebody had just died.
"I'm not," Kurt confessed. "I just… Finn, I know it's stupid, but-"
"Hey, it's not stupid," Finn insisted. Kurt glared at him, but Finn stood his ground. "It's not, okay? He was your pet. That's a big deal."
"I know," Kurt said in a small voice.
Finn struggled for something to say, looking around Kurt's room. His eyes fell on Kurt's laptop, and he remembered that first connection he'd really had with Kurt, over a year ago. "You know what you should do?" he asked eagerly, because this might actually help. "You should sing about it."
"Sing? I don't think I've ever felt less like singing."
"No, man, that's exactly what you've gotta do." Finn was getting excited now. "Remember that ballad assignment Mr. Schue gave us last year?"
"It was kind of hard to forget," Kurt said in a dry voice.
"Yeah. Well, I remember you getting me to sing 'I'll Stand By You'-"
"To a fetus that wasn't even your child. And that's hardly the least embarrassing part of the story."
"Yeah, but I thought she was at the time," Finn said. "And it did help me. It helped a lot. You should totally do that for Pavarotti."
"You think so?" Kurt asked.
"Totally."
"What would I sing?"
"I'll help you find something," Finn said. He felt a lot better. He couldn't bring the bird back to life, but at least there was something he could do.
***
"Kurt?" Carole knocked on the door.
"Carole. Hi." Kurt's smile was fragile, but more worrying was the fact he was still in his pajamas. "I didn't hear you come home."
"I'm sorry. I just…" she looked from Kurt to the bird in the cage and sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."
"It's all right," Kurt said. "I understand about the trials of night shift. Finn helped me pick a song for Pavarotti, and…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"No need for apologies." Carole looked around. "Did Finn go to school?" Kurt nodded. "What about you, honey? I mean, if you need to stay home for a day-"
"No, I'm planning on going." Kurt heaved a huge sigh. "I just… I don't know what to wear."
That more than anything was a sign that Kurt was feeling adrift. But Carole felt like she was venturing on to thin ice when she offered, "I could help you?" But Kurt nodded.
She came in, but Kurt didn't stand up. So instead of heading to his closet, she sat down on the bed beside him and they both stared moodily through the open door at his clothes. They sat in silence for a long time.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here," Carole finally said, feeling awkward.
"You were at work." Kurt said it simply, with no accusation.
"But you had to go through it alone. I wish I'd known earlier. I wish I could have been there to help you. I wish we could have helped each oth-" Carole cut off, suddenly aware that she wasn't talking about a bird anymore. "Kurt…." She wrapped her arm around him as he started crying. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried, and she rocked him back and forth like she'd done for Finn so many times, stroking his hair.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Everything's going to be all right."
***
Burt didn't approach the subject with Kurt until the day after Regionals. "Were you able to bury Pavarotti?"
"Yes," Kurt said, They were alone in the car, riding to the garage. "We did it at Dalton after Regionals."
Regionals. That was another thing, but that was something completely different. There was also something about Kurt, a lift of his shoulders and a smile playing on his lips. Burt wasn't dumb; he'd seen the way that Blaine kid looked at Kurt as they sang, and he thought that might have something to do with it. But he didn't ask. That wasn't the point. "Well, that's good," he said finally, when he was aware the silence had stretched too long. "Wasn't too hard for you, was it?"
"Funny," Kurt said, "Blaine said the same thing. It did bother me some, but…" he shrugged, still looking out the front window. "But you know, this time, it helped."
"Good."
"I'll still miss him though," Kurt admitted.
Burt wondered if he was supposed to give some sort of advice or meaningful words about death, but damned if he could think of any that Kurt probably wanted to hear at the moment. But Kurt didn't seem bothered. "Mind if I turn on the radio?" he asked. He leaned forward before Burt could even nod permission, and flipped on the classic station.
It was the Beatles' song Blackbird. Burt knew it well, and actually joined in singing. Kurt didn't sing, but as they pulled into the garage, there was a small smile lingering on his lips. And somehow, Burt had the feeling that he'd just said everything Kurt could have wanted to hear.