Fic: Close Your Eyes And Leap (Glee; Puck/Kurt, Burt) NC-13
I'm still on my holidays and you've got NO IDEA what sort of things (terrible, awful things) I had to do to be able to post this fic today. The entire world is against me - everything from my laptop to The Internets fails - I am surprised Karl, the benign god of slash, didn't smite me the moment I pressed "post entry".
The next Access To The Internet Day may be a week away, so play nice while I'm gone.
Title: Close Your Eyes And Leap
Rating: NC-13 (swear words)
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel
Words: 8,857
Author’s Note: Written for Glee_fest. I'm really sorry this is waaaaaay past the final date - I'm on holidays and have a very sparse access to the internet. First non-anon fic I've written in several years and the longest one ever.
Prompt: by glee_fest round 1 #236. Puck doesn't realize that Burt's being scary is just playful hazing.
Betas: lovelycudy and boysinperil
Spoilers: some to episodes 1-12 (s1)
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way, shape or form. This work of fiction is non-profit
Summary: Puck may not be the sharpest crayon in the box but even he knows Burt Hummel hates his guts.
Close Your Eyes And Leap
It didn't take more than a pair of fairly good eyes and an afternoon with both Hummels to understand one thing about their relationship - Mr. Hummel was incapable of denying his son anything. Maybe this obvious weakness had been caused by guilt over Kurt becoming a half-orphan at a fairly young age. Maybe he wanted to give the boy everything he couldn't have himself, when he was his age.
Noah was ashamed to admit that the first time he had watched Kurt gushing over his brand new Roberto Cavalli jacket, he silently suspected that Mr. Hummel was scared to say no to Kurt. That saying no would mean 'I don't accept you' and back then all that Noah could see when looking at Kurt, was an effeminate gay singer in expensive clothing. Take away the clothes and all you have left is a pissed off, bitchy diva, with a rotten attitude and a high-pitched voice. Who would like to live with something like that under their roof?
Whatever Mr. Hummel's reasons, the facts remained clear; Kurt spent more just on his personal care products in a week than the Puckerman family spent on the monthly groceries. Occasionally, Mr. Hummel would fume reading his son's credit card statement, but he'd never actively gotten in the way of Kurt's nefarious plan to own absolutely every design of Gucci scarves in existence.
It didn't stop on clothes.
Kurt wanted a car? He got one, and while technically speaking it was true that he had gotten it taken away inconveniently fast, the statement was not false. Kurt had wanted to spend two weeks with his cousins in Milan, doing whatever there was to do in Milan? He had the tickets as fast as it took to book them.
And when Kurt had decided to start dating Lima Loser Number Two, Noah Puckerman (who was such a loser he couldn't even get to the top spot in the biggest loser competition - as his mother would often tell him, probably not realizing that this joke was so old that it was chasing other jokes off its lawn), he didn't object much more than was appropriate, considering the circumstances.
Thick as pig shit or not, Noah hadn't been fooled. While Mr. Hummel seemed polite enough not to say anything in his face, nor had he ever apparently said anything to Kurt, Noah knew the truth - Mr. Hummel hated his guts. What father wouldn't? His golden boy, his only son, dating a guy who had impregnated his best friend's girlfriend at the tender age of 16 and then said nothing when the said girlfriend lied to his best friend about being the father. A guy who had had sex with every cougar feeling bad enough about herself to spread her legs for a frisky high school kid with a nipple ring and a bad boy attitude.
It was funny - in that sad, totally unfunny way that made you cringe when you thought about it - how he used to consider that a highlight of his existence.
Every day Noah prayed that Mr. Hummel wouldn't add “Kurt's bully” to the already disturbing list of things he knew about his son's boyfriend. His role in turning Kurt's early high school years into hell had been more than active; slushies, offensive notes in and on his locker, dumpster tossing, name calling... that wasn't even scraping the surface.
Once upon a time, Kurt had been the go-to guy when Puck had a bad day at school or at home, and needed a pick-me-up. A pick-me-up that often, ironically, consisted of picking Kurt up and throwing him into the dumpster. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had acknowledged that those activities were just distracting him from what a distressingly pathetic life he was leading; it could have been virtually anywhere between joining New Directions and winning Sectionals.
After Sectionals, he kind of started being friends with Kurt. The Puck who thought sleeping with mums and bullying geeks was awesome would had never, in a million years, have allowed himself to even consider the fag worth knowing, let alone liking. Sadly- and put that as number seventy-eight on the list of Things That Noah Regrets - his reasons to befriend Kurt in the first place were more than a little sinister.
It was probably too many late night marathons of “The L Word” that made Noah believe that if he got Kurt to forgive him for what he had been doing to him (forgive for real, not in a “yeah, whatever, we're BFFs, now go away, you’re blocking my sun” way), then it would somehow make everything better. It would prove to Quinn that he could be better. Look at me and Kurt, he silently begged for her to notice, every time he complimented Kurt's new pair of jeans or offered to accompany him on his guitar. You'd have never thought we could be friends, but we are. I've changed. I'm not that asswipe you hated so much, anymore. Just ask my new Gay Best Friend Kurt! If I could change about that, I can change everything! I can be a good dad! Good for both of you!
It might have been a monumentally idiotic plan, one that made him look even more of a jackass to boot, but at that point, he was desperate enough to believe in fairy godmothers if they had only promised him a happy ending.
Kurt had been caution and suspicious, and made Puck work hard for his trust, and in the end, it all turned out to be worth shit when Quinn completely rejected Noah's attempts to impress her. Looking back, he knew she had been completely right; there was nothing he could have offered her or their baby. His daughter was better off with a loving family that could provide for her. Back then, though? He had wanted to throw himself on the floor and howl in frustration.
Somewhere along the way, amongst all this mess and constant heartache, Kurt's friendship stopped being an instrument and became the goal. Noah could never understate the importance of having someone like Kurt Hummel in his life- someone fierce and loyal and honest, a shoulder to cry on if he was feeling down, and a smack on the head if he was acting like a cretin.
Kurt was someone who would snark when Puck decided to call him at 4am, drunk and miserable, but who wouldn't hang up. He would listen, and would never throw the things Puck said back in his face the next morning, no matter how much he expected it.
Attempting to identify that specific moment where the need to be friends morphed into something more turned out to be completely impossible. For the longest time he had denied that the fluttering in his stomach when Kurt would smile at him was anything more than his earlier choice of fast food disagreeing with him; denied that he wanted to make Kurt smile at him. Even when the confusing dreams had begun, he still wouldn't accept the fact that he had fallen for Kurt - because Noah was young, horny and notgettingany, and Kurt was pretty, girly and always frustratingly close . He told himself that as long as he didn't jerk off to those fantasies, he was cool.
Except that he had started to jerk off after several weeks of dreams.
Then that beefed up half-wit of a transfer student started to openly sniff around Kurt, and when he nearly threw himself at the guy because he had dared to ask Kurt out, Puck kind of had no choice but to admit to himself that yes, he was horny for Kurt in a totally not-heterosexual way.
There followed a flurry of sleepless nights, longing gazes, frustrated sighs, nasty comments made to Kurt about his new boyfriend's intelligence and appearance and, on several occasions, drunken sexts that Kurt, fortunately, was unable to decipher.
It was profoundly liberating, that day when he had finally decided to just approach Kurt after Glee and tell him that his boyfriend was a moron and he should date him instead.
But no amount of apologies and excuses could change the past, no matter how much he wished to do so, and he still couldn't understand Mr. Hummel.
He knew most of the stuff that came out of Kurt's father’s mouth were thickly veiled insults - some of which took him a wordbook to decipher, some of which he still didn't get - but he knew what they were because... well, he just knew, ok? They were different from what he was used to, but so was Mr. Hummel. Noah had once tried to imagine what would have happened if he came out to his father, and the scenarios that his imagination created made him once again grateful that he didn't have to deal with this monumental failure of a parent anymore. He might have resented his father for leaving, but even he was smart enough to realize it was a blessing in disguise.
Sometimes Noah actually wished Mr. Hummel would say something directly, called him an asshole or a failure, because he'd totally know how to react to that - he had years of practice dealing with his mother, a world class master of guilt-tripping.
She still hoped he'd un-gay himself one day, and after the first quadrillion times, he decided that no matter how many times he'd explain it, she just wouldn't get the difference between homo- and bisexuality. Other than that, surprisingly little had changed between them. Nothing improved, but he couldn't say that she had become more malicious in her off-hand comments. She gained two new favourites though: an utterly inaccurate 'I will never have grandchildren' and any variety of 'people are talking.' The key was to meet her comments with a shrug or to pretend he didn't hear them. If she was getting particularly nasty, he'd just remind her that Nazis hated gay people too. That one usually shut her up for at least an hour.
He even went as far as to bring Kurt home on several occasions; his mother was nothing but polite, though she did turn sighing with pained resignation every time she'd as much as glanced at them into a form of art.
Bottom line: Noah could stand being insulted to his face and, thanks to his father, being smacked around; he could stand odd stares and guilt-trips, but every time he was faced with Mr. Hummel, Noah felt like a mouse with a tail stuck between cat's teeth. This man could channel both of his parents at the same time and yet, do it subtly enough for Noah not to get the insult until several days later.
It was weird, it was nothing he was used to, he wished it would stop or at least that someone would kindly provide him with a Puckerman to Hummel dictionary (the one he had at the moment, the Kurt Hummel edition, was full of words like “Dolce&Gabbana,” “moisturiser” and “incontrovertible” and was not helping him in his situation).
To make things even more confusing for his already struggling brain, there was the incident that happened about two months into his relationship with Kurt, when Mr. Hummel had taken him aside and uttered the first and last straightforward threat that Noah had ever heard coming from him.
***
Noah was not a person that would walk with a spring in his step but this one time, even he had to admit, he was almost skipping. It should have bothered him - he might be a bit gayer than only six months before and Kurt's many quirks were definitely rubbing off on him,but he was still a badass stud. Yet, how could he not feel awesome on a day like this? He hadn't been slushied or called a “fag” in over a week, he actually got a B on a test, and tomorrow, Mr. Hummel would leave for a whole weekend, leaving him and Kurt completely alone for the first time.
And they had plans!
Kurt had been working at the garage every evening this week, as Mr. Hummel wanted to make sure all the important jobs were finished before he left. The guy wasn't a workaholic by a long shot - the countless times he'd skip work just to watch TV at home was the cause of Kurt's unfaltering “always keep your shirt on, dad hunts” rule - but there was a reason his garage was considered the best in the county. Mr. Hummel personally supervised each repair, and Kurt was the only person he trusted to help him with that.
So, while Kurt and his dad were having their After School Special father-son moments, discussing broken engines and crooked exhaust-pipes, Noah was stuck at his place, with only his sister and a brand new PS3 for a company. Well, he had never claimed that having a rich boyfriend didn't have its perks. Today, though, Mr. Hummel had allowed Kurt to skip most of the evening, as Kurt had started to complain about this amount of constant manual labour ruining his manicure. From what he had said earlier at school, they were done with the majority of the cars anyway.
Letting himself inside the garage, Noah sat in the waiting area and glanced at the clock. Kurt had promised him he'd be ready before five, and it was only quarter past four. He occupied himself by reading an old issue of some motoring magazine, and he had become so engrossed by it he didn't even notice Mr. Hummel taking a seat opposite him, until he heard a sharp 'Puckerman.'
He lifted his head to offer his greeting, but the look in Mr. Hummel's eye made the words die in his throat. For a second it seemed that the two men were having a staring contest, and Noah was losing. Badly. The air seemed charged, the tension lifting the hair on the nape of his neck. He had no idea what it was all about but he didn't feel like asking. Then something truly dangerous, almost desperate, flashed in Mr. Hummel's eyes and Noah cringed involuntary, fully expecting to be thrown across the garage. He had seen this look before, on numerous occasions, and while he wasn't a scrawny seven year old anymore, Mr. Hummel was still big enough to intimidate him.
. After an agonizingly long ten seconds, during which Mr. Hummel continued staring at Noah, he finally leaned forward, not losing the eye contact even for a brief second.
“You will respect my son”, he said in a low voice, emphasizing each word, “Before, during and after, you will keep him safe and if you cause him any pain, physical or emotional, I will castrate you, Puckerman, and then have you eat what I cut off. Do you understand me?”
Now, the thing was, he didn't. Noah wasn't the sharpest pen in the drawer on the best of days, and Mr. Hummel's aggravated stare did nothing to convince his brain to process the data any quicker. A bead of sweat ran down his spine while he contemplated what sort of reply wouldn't get him killed, and Mr. Hummel growled, obviously not pleased with the amount of time it was taking to get the answer from his son's boyfriend.
Finally, years of playing football kicked in, and Noah's thoughts started to move on their own. The pattern was familiar - find the threat, eliminate, run. The threat was three inches from his face, staring at him intensely enough to bore holes in his proverbially thick skull, so point one was taken off the imaginary list pretty quickly.
As far as elimination went, the only idea he had gotten was to nod dumbly and mutter (not squeak , he was a stud and as such, by definition, did not squeak) “Of course, sir. Always.”
It was a no-brainer, that one; he had found at a very early age that when confronted with a grown man who had the ability to punch your face in, you always agreed, even if you didn't agree. (Are you really that stupid Noah? Do you want to give me a fucking heart attack? You are a disgrace, you know that? You take after your mother, you are not my son, because no son of mine could be this retarded, get it?). Though it had often done him no good, and he would get a beating anyway, he swould agree every time - because sometimes it worked, and that “sometimes” was worth every 'Yes, sir' he could stutter out before the first punch landed.
There were no punches this time, just an enigmatically pleasant 'Good,' and Mr. Hummel was out of his personal space and back in his office.
The brainy, up-until-now silent part of Noah, which had frozen when confronted with Mr. Hummel death-glare of paternal disapproval, was beginning to catch up, quickly filling the blanks.
“You will respect my son, before, during and after sex, you will keep him safe during sex and if you cause him any pain during sex, physical or emotional (during sex), I will castrate you, Puckerman and then have you eat what I cut off so you can never have sex with my son again.”
Well, shit! Had he just had a quasi-conversation with Mr. Hummel about gay sex? Better than that, had he actually confirmed to Mr. Hummel what he and Kurt had planned while he was away for the weekend?
That would be a big fat double yes.
A stupidly defiant part of him, the same part that made him stand up to the teachers for all the wrong reasons and had once refused to give up on Quinn and her - their daughter, wanted him to follow Mr. Hummel and inform him that ok, they were planning something special this weekend but it wasn't that sort of “special” that Mr. Hummel was clearly implying and... and Jesus, now he was thinking about Kurt's father thinking about Kurt and him having sex the gay way.
Convinced that this particular image had lodged itself so deeply into his psyche, that only several years of intense therapy (that he would happily make Mr. Hummel pay for) would help him, he stood up, navigated his way out of the garage into the street and, abandoning the idea of taking Kurt out anywhere that evening, ran as fast as he could. He ran until his lungs couldn't draw a single breath anymore, until all the blood in his body had been directed to his lower extremities, until he had seen spots and felt like fainting and throwing up at the same time. He wished he could run for ever, because the moment he stopped, his brain picked up again, definitely deciding to make up for the earlier lack in activity by throwing the most disturbing images he could conjure straight at him.
Mr. Hummel knew they were having or, to be more precise, were about to have sex, he knew that Lima Loser Puckerman was fouling his baby chick in the man's own nest and, worst of all, had an impressive collection of crowbars and knew where Noah lived.
In that particular moment, Noah considered himself rendered completely impotent.
How the hell he had managed to actually get an erection that weekend, let alone go through with the entire thing - and let's be clear once again, not “it,” just “something” - he would never know, though he suspected that a naked, blushing Kurt lying himself down on the burgundy sheets he had bought especially for the occasion had something to do with it.
So yeah, Noah Puckerman was thoroughly fucked. He had been fucked even before he had kissed Kurt for the first time, before he had asked him out on a first date or held his hand in public... Hell no, he was lying to himself - before he had even realized that that gay kid he had spent years tormenting, mistreating and insulting, would become his Big Gay Crush. He was fucked because Mr. Hummel and his unconditional love for his son had always been and always would be there, and in his eyes, Noah Puckerman was temporary and nothing more than a whim, like another pair of D&G shades, and he would be suffered through and then discarded and forgotten about and now he was suffering from a verbal diarrhoea in his own head and fuck!
***
But that was months ago, and there were no other incidents of this sort, even the next time Mr. Hummel left them alone for the weekend or when he caught them making out in the living room.
Noah suspected he had realized that he wasn't worth the hassle. Kurt was already knee-deep in college brochures and with his grades, talent, and his father's money, finding a suitable school as far away from Ohio as possible would be a walk in the park. Kurt would move away, leave Lima forever and Noah would stay here, stuck in some dead end job, with a wife he probably wouldn't really love that much.
It's actually quite funny how many things one can think about, even someone whose brain isn't their strongest asset, when confronted with the most confusing moment of their life... ok, third most confusing moment of their life - for Noah, realizing he wanted to have sex with Kurt Hummel was the most confusing moment of his life, second only to realizing he wanted a relationship with Kurt Hummel.
As had been established, Mr. Hummel hated Noah from the moment he had set eyes on him; he hated his oversexed libido, his tendencies to be a complete jerk, his ability to cause pain to people without even aiming to do so, and, above all, Mr. Hummel hated that Noah was not what his son deserved, even in Lima.
There was one problem though - people who hated you didn't offer you money. People who hated you wanted you to be stuck in a dead-end job with that wife you didn't love and kids you would disappoint. They would probably even call you from time to time, just to hear you lying to them that everything is peachy.
Then why was he having this conversation with Mr. Hummel? And why was he holding a check for a sum larger than what he would earn in the first year of his (dead-end, wife and kids, etcetera) job?
“I don't understand, Mr. Hummel”, he started slowly, confused. He'd never pegged Mr. Hummel for the type of a guy who found playing around with invisible ink amusing; “I don't understand what is it for.”
Leaning forward, Kurt’s father looked him straight in the eye. This time, unlike the last time they’d been sitting opposite to one another like this, Noah couldn't spot anything menacing in that glare, just curiosity. Noah felt a shiver running down his spine. He didn't like when things got this peculiar; that often signified trouble or, one time, a drastic turn in thinking about one’s sexuality.
“Kurt told me that you would like to go to a good college but can't afford it.” he heard the plain explanation. “He's pretty upset by it; thinks that you could achieve a lot if only given a chance. I want to give you a chance, Noah.”
Oh, of course. Now that he thought about it, he was really surprised he didn't see it from the beginning. Kurt had already mentioned several times that he shouldn't give up on himself so early in his life;he had even tried to help him fill in some documents, scrunching his pretty little face when Noah just laughed at the preposterous idea. As he had explained to his still frowning boyfriend, smiling in a way that Kurt would later describe as “condescending”, there was nothing he'd like more than attending a nice, out-of-the-state college. Unfortunately, his parents hadn't thought that “Noah's college fund” was worth considering, let alone setting up, so he had to think realistically, which in his case meant a crappy college, not far away from home. He was counting his blessings there were colleges dumpy enough to want him as a student.
That must have upset Kurt, which easily translated into an upset Mr. Hummel, which, in turn, meant that the problem had to be fixed - quickly and permanently. The easiest way to do so, the Hummel way, was to pay for it to go away. Yes, Noah Puckerman had officially become a Gucci scarf.
His hands began to tremble when that staggering conclusion dawned on him. Being reduced to an item stung his pride, but God, so much money.... the things he could do with it. He could actually leave the state like he always wanted, pick a major he would enjoy, start a new life away from Lima, Ohio and the sad remains of himself that were scattered all over this God-forsaken town. And then he could even learn how to fly from all those pigs.
“I'm really sorry Mr. Hummel. I mean, I appreciate this gesture, I really do, you have no idea how much, it's really kind and generous,” he stammered out, tripping over the words. He snapped his mouth shut and then tried again, more slowly. “Thank you, but Kurt's wrong.”Sighing, with a heavy heart, he put the check on the flat surface of the desk between them. “This is a waste of your money.” He smirked to himself. “It'd be better if you gave this to Kurt, he could use a new Gucci scarf or something”. Wow, he didn't actually just use a running joke between himself and himself, did he? How delightfully pathetic.
Mr. Hummel glared at him for several seconds, glanced at the check and then returned his stare to Noah. He did nothing to indicate he accepted Noah's explanation.
“You’re not as stupid as you pretend to be, son.” The moniker that Mr. Hummel had applied to him literally caused Noah's eyebrows to shoot up in shock. In the years they had known each other, Mr. Hummel had called him a lot of things but the word 'son' had always been exclusive to Kurt and Kurt alone. He had no idea how to react, if to react at all, because Mr. Hummel kept talking, without missing a beat, seemingly oblivious to Noah's confusion.
“You may not have the best grades, but you can easily get into a good college; you won the Regionals, came third at Nationals, that should mean something. This,” he gestured to the piece of paper between them “will help you set yourself up, wherever you want. It may not work out but wouldn't it be better if you tried?”
Noah's answered with a sharp, frustrated snort, as his eyes involuntary flickering to the check. “That's a lot of money to offer to a potential failure”.
His statement was met with nothing more than a shrug “We all can fail, every day. Kurt believes in you and I believe in my son's judgement”.
This wasn't what Noah had expected to hear, but then, this entire conversation was shaping in a way he hadn't expected. When Mr. Hummel had invited him to his office he suspected to be questioned about the box of cherry-flavoured condoms Kurt had misplaced several days earlier, during their rather passionate quickie in the kitchen.
Tearing his eyes away from this impossibly tempting check, he looked up sharply, registering the surprise his obvious anger invoked in Mr. Hummel.
“With all due respect, sir, your son is very naïve for an eighteen years old,” he spat out.
Noah expected that his would bring the end to this conversation in a shape of Mr. Hummel's shoe kicking him outside, but instead, it only earned him a polite smile. “The last deep, meaningful conversation I had was with Kurt, when he told me you asked him out. I'm a bit rusty, so can you just tell me what do you need to hear from me to accept this check?”
Mr. Hummel waited patiently for almost a minute, as Noah frowned, struggling to come up with an answer. There were just too many things he wanted to say at once, none of them significant enough to garner a priority before the other. He finally settled for “This's just really weird,” and sighed, running his hand through his shortly cropped hair.
His head was hurting now, he needed to lie down. And then he needed to phone Kurt and shout at him for half an hour for putting him in this situation. Even the obvious consequence of this action - no sex for a couple of days - weren't scaring him away.
He was already composing his “I'm so sorry, baby, can I at least get a hand job?” speech, and since he was never good at multi-tasking, the sound of Mr. Hummel's voice startled him visibly. “Kurt has an incredible intuition when it comes to people. If I didn't believe it, I would have never allowed him to date someone like you, but I took that gamble and it paid off. You are a good guy, Noah, but you give yourself too little credit. Sometimes it's good to look at ourselves with the eyes of someone else; we may learn a lot”.
It sounded almost like a challenge, and Noah decided to pick up this glove. If Mr. Hummel wanted to be deep, he'd give him deep. What was the worst thing that could happen, he'd finally hear the truth instead of just had it hinted at? Shouldn't that be considered a good thing?
“What do you see, then, Mr. Hummel?” He tilted his chin up, too late realizing he was copying Kurt's signature head movement. “Honestly”.
If Mr. Hummel had noticed the obvious resemblance he didn't comment on it. Instead he opted for answering the question. He spoke slowly, as he hadn't rehearsed this speech countless times in his head - and before he finished, it struck Noah that he probably hadn't. “A boy who isn't willing to try, though why, I can only suspect. I don't know if you’re afraid to fail or if you just think you’re not good enough, but I don't see a coward. You can't tell me that being gay in Lima takes less guts than finding yourself a good school”.
Noah felt as if someone stunned him. He even forgot to correct Mr. Hummel that he wasn't gay but bisexual (with strong preference towards middle-aged women and effeminate, bitchy teenage boys - and seriously, what was with old people and their inability to grasp the obvious difference between those two?). Blinking, he attempted to collect his thoughts, but everything felt woozy to him. The things he'd just heard, they didn't sound like something that someone who hated you would say. They sounded almost sincere and... sympathetic? Surely, it must have been a trick - Mr. Hummel understood that Noah wouldn't take the money without being fed a bunch of plausible sounding lies and decided to do so, for Kurt's sake. But then, why not just tell him that? Burt Hummel was not the sugar-coating type.
“One of us has to start telling the truth,”, he thought bitterly ”Any more of that, and I'll get one of those strain nose-bleeds.”
“It's my turn now, right?” Taking a deep breath when Mr. Hummel nodded confirmation, he finally said what he'd itched to express since the moment this surreal conversation started.
“You don't like me. I'm a scarf.”
Mr. Hummel opened his mouth to answer but quickly closed it, realizing probably that there wasn't anything he could answer to something so unusual. He frowned and the way he inclined his eyebrows was so identical to Kurt's, it took a lot for Noah not to smirk and point it out.
“That's pretty random”.
Ok, fair enough. “You don't like me, Mr. Hummel, but Kurt does, so you accept me,” he said with a shrug, as if it didn't hurt to admit it. “I'm just another thing your son wants and though you don't understand why, it makes him happy, so whatever. He's upset that I can't go to college and you hate seeing him upset. That's why you want to give me this money; not for me, for him. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, you are an amazing dad to Kurt, but I am not a scarf, I won't be bought.” Not any more.
If this situation had any more irony in it, it would be confusing compasses. It was Kurt who had taught him that he was worth something, that if he had tried hard enough, he could become more than a toy for bored, neglected housewives. That he should aim to express himself, to be what he had never had a courage to consider being. And now his new found self-worth was actively blocking him from taking a chance to be even more.
Forget “ironic”, you know what it was? Fucking unfair, that's what it was!
He threw a one last, regretful look at the infernal check and stood up without a word, preparing himself to leave. A sharp, definite “Sit.” put him back in his place so quickly that it bruised his ass.
“You're right, in part.” Mr. Hummel was talking again, and Noah sighed, realizing the conversation was far from over. He just wanted to go home and wallow in self-pity. He was a teenager, surely that was allowed and even expected of him. Unfortunately, Mr. Hummel was either completely oblivious or indifferent to his discomfort. “I hate seeing Kurt upset,” he continued with a nod, “and he's the one that gave me this idea, but I can assure you, it's not why I'm doing it. I need to ask, though... what makes you think I don't like you?”
He seemed genuinely curious and Noah began considering just bolting. He hated the situation he was in, he hated talking about his feelings, even the much needed conversations with Kurt were a torment each time. He felt like throwing something at Mr. Hummel, a heavy object or a curse, but in the end, he just threw his hands in the air. “You don't!” he exclaimed in frustration, something in him finally breaking. “You never did and I get it, ok? I'm an asshole, was an asshole, and a nobody, and Kurt deserves, I don't fucking know, a prince, ok? I get it!” His voice became louder, his vision started to blur. “I come to your house, and you think 'Well fuck, great, why couldn't it be that Hudson guy, he's nice,' but Finn doesn't want Kurt, he wants Quinn, even if I did knock her up.” He swallowed the bile in his throat that the mention of Quinn's pregnancy always put there, but continued, too far gone to care. “So you think it won't last long but it lasts ages and you get angry because you can't just get rid of me, because Kurt actually, get that, likes me. In a likes-likes way. And guess what, Mr. Hummel, I actually do know I’m worth something, because that's what your son taught me and that’s why I can't take this money. Because I am too proud for that shit now. And that really fucking sucks, because I really really want to take it.”
He was close to tears now but not the prissy tears Kurt liked to cry when watching RENT or listening to the Wicked soundtrack. These were the tears of frustration and anger, the kind he got acquainted to during the weeks he had spent pondering the future of his then unborn daughter, and if Noah's fists weren't clenched so tightly on the edge of Mr. Hummel's desk, he would probably have put them in his mouth and whimpered like a baby. Too busy trying not too hyperventilate, he didn't even notice when Mr. Hummel put an unlabelled bottle with a suspicious-looking brown liquid in front of him.
“Drink,” he ordered, and Noah didn't even attempt to argue with that. His hands were moving on autopilot when he reached for the bottle and took a deep swing. He had no idea what sort of alcohol it was, but it burned his throat in a way that promised oblivion. He had problems with swallowing and initially, he blamed it on the strength of the unidentified spirit, before he realized that his throat was raw from clenching over dry sobs.
Forget being bisexual or a scarf; he was officially gay now. His membership card was already mailed, should arrive the day after tomorrow.
It might have been a minute or an hour later, before Noah calmed himself enough to start feeling shame. His nose was running and he gratefully accepted the handkerchief Mr. Hummel offered him as he simultaneously preyed the half-empty bottle from between his clenched fingers. He vaguely wondered if he should be worried about his eyes getting puffy - Kurt always did that when he cried or nearly cried, and since he was gay now, he might as well take pointers from the best gay guy that he knew. Ok, the only gay guy he knew, but he was pretty sure Kurt had this whole gayness thing down to the last detail.
Mr. Hummel was hovering somewhere behind him, discomfort radiating from every inch of his body, probably trying to determine if Noah needed anything else. The truth was he did but it was nothing Mr. Hummel could had offer him; he needed to get back in time to that moment right before he exploded in frustration and started whining like a little bitch. “I don't dislike you.” he heard finally, after Mr. Hummel returned to his spot behind the desk. For a guy built like a brick house, he knew how to move stealthily. “I honestly think you are a good guy and good to Kurt. I just...”
He took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his head with his forearm, and then sat down, heavily. It was always quite chilly in the garage, and it was no different today, so Noah had to assume Mr. Hummel was nervous. He struggled with this idea slightly, he had seen this man in twenty shade of anger but never anything close to anxiety - but there it was. It was oddly comforting. “After that, eh, meltdown” he continued, replacing the cap to its rightful place. “The one where I, eh, threatened you a bit, you know.” Oh yes, Noah knew. “I thought I'd give you and Kurt some space. The last thing any teenager needs, it's the old man breathing down his neck.”
Noah kept his eyes glued firmly to the hands he folded on his knees. “Yes, but...” He stopped, when it dawned on him he had no idea how to continue. The list of all the things he meant to say, the things he had always silently complained to himself about was rapidly shortening, as he, himself, started rebuffing each point.
So Mr. Hummel looked at him weirdly. He was having sex with his son, what father wouldn't? That he often said things using that grouchy, impatient tone? He was using the same tone with Kurt and no one could deny how much he loved his son. His thinly-veiled semi-insults were more often directed at Kurt than at him. What the hell was his problem in a first place? So his daddy left him, his mother liked to remind him he was worthless and he had a daughter he'd never see or even know the name of. What did any of those things have to do with Mr. Hummel?
Whatever was in that bottle, it had radically improved Noah's deducting skills. It was probably one of those fabled German spirits he had heard so much about.
“I don't know,” he stated eventually, sighing in resignation. “I just thought that and now, I don't know.”
“Son,” and there it was that word again! “I know I may seem like a boar to people who don't know me, but after almost a year of you spending every waking hour in my house, I would have thought you know me a bit better than that.” Well yeah, he should have, shouldn't he? It would have been much better if he had gotten that bottle before he had broken down. Come to think of it, he should had gotten it before he started dating Kurt, would probably have saved him a lot of hassle and sleepless nights, when he had been trying to figure out everything that needed to be figured out when you found yourself ejected from “confirmed promiscuous, heterosexual jackass” straight to “bisexual monogamist, tries to be nice”.
His throat started to burn again.“Looks like I'm not that smart as you thought, Mr. Hummel”.
That earned him a good-natured snort. “Self-pity doesn't suit you, Noah. It's partially my fault though. I should have made you feel more welcome. Do you realize this is the longest conversation that we had ever had?” he asked. “I'm not a big fan of all that 'talking about your feelings' stuff, but if you must know, I didn't like you at the beginning. You know your own faults well enough but you were not ashamed of my son, and you endured a lot to be with him. You have no idea how much I respect that.” He smiled. “You made Kurt really, really happy, happier than he'd ever been. I swear, I am not trying to pay you for what you did for Kurt, I honestly see what he sees in you. I don't want it to go to waste”.
Noah didn't know how to reply to that, so he remained silent. He wondered if any of Mr. Hummel's employees heard him shouting earlier and his cheeks began to burn in shame.
“If I tell you why exactly I am so determined to shove that check down your throat, you have to promise you won't tell Kurt. I don't want him to know.”
The sudden, unexpected vulnerability in Mr. Hummel's voice made Noah finally pry his eyes away from his lap to examine the man in front of him. He found that it was Mr. Hummel who was looking down at the hands now. He nodded, then, realizing that Mr. Hummel couldn't have possibly seen that gesture, confirmed with a short “Sure.”
“I'm doing this for Mary.”
That name definitely rang a bell. “Kurt's mom.” he stated, surprised when Mr. Hummel shook his head in denial.
“No, his grandmother,” he explained “my Mary's mother.”
Deciding against asking why would anyone name a daughter after herself, Noah continued to listen.
“When I met Mary, my wife I mean,” he began his explanation, at the same time allowing his gaze to slide back up to Noah's face, ”I was younger than you. It was love at first sight, for both of us, but she was the only heir to her family's fortune and I was so poor I couldn't afford a decent pair of shoes.” There was a pause that Noah could easily identify as uncomfortable. For a second it seemed that Mr Hummel changed his mind, that he wouldn't continue, but then he did, his the next sentence explaining the hesitation “I was also a bit of a jerk and a bully with a terrible reputation.” Noah didn't need to contemplate it too closely, he recognized the look on the face of the man sitting opposite him straight away, because he'd seen it too many times glaring back at him from the mirror. It was shame.
“Her father wasn't pleased when he found out, told Mary to stop wasting her time with me and find herself someone on her level. She refused, so he disowned her.” Mr Hummel spat out those last words as if they were venomous and Noah suspected that for him, they were. His thoughts inevitably returned to Quinn and the situation she had faced after she’dtold her parents she was pregnant. Some things, it seemed, some kind of people, would never change.
He tried to imagine doing something like that to his own daughter, just chucking his flesh and blood away because of one mistake that hadn't been entirely her fault, but his mind revolted against the idea. His throat felt constricted again, and he forced himself to swallow, regretting that Mr. Hummel took the alcohol away - its bitterness was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his mouth at the moment.
He wondered if he would always feel like that, if in twenty years he'd be in Mr Hummel's position, recapping his story to someone, still feeling the same mix of anger, shame and apathy.
“So what happened then?” he asked, cringing at the uncharacteristic weakness of his voice. This entire conversation was draining him, but he had promised to listen and it seemed like Mr. Hummel needed to tell.
“She moved in with me and my parents. I never, not once, heard her complain, though living there was light years away from what she was used to. She was always strong and...” his voice faltered and he frowned, obviously displeased that he once again allowed his emotions to show.
“Several months later her mother came to us, told me she had threatened her husband with a divorce if he didn't take Mary back.” He sounded firmer this time, reprimanding, as if he were scolding himself for allowing his emotions to get the best of him “He refused to unless she left me, so Kurt's grandma sold all the jewelery she had and brought us the money. Believe you me, that was a lot of money. She told me then that she saw a potential in me and she would be damned if I didn't get a chance I deserved, especially that now Mary was my responsibility”. Recalling the moment, he smiled- gently, gratefully, showing positive emotions for the first time since he'd began telling this story. “It was enough to start my own business and as you can see, I'm still managing pretty well. I'd always intended to give her all of it back, but she and her husband died in a car crash some time later. Turned out that they left her everything after all, and after Mary died...” he made a poignant pause “well, it'll all belong to Kurt one day”.
Noah had heard part of this story before, the part with Kurt getting filthy rich one day, but he hadn't heard anything about his mother being kicked out of her house by her parents. Judging from what Mr. Hummel had said before he started his trip down the memory lane, Kurt didn't know any of it. He wondered what Mr. Hummel had told him about his grandparents. That they were kind? Loving? Did he choose to lie or just speak in half-truths?
The silence between them began feeling awkward. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, feeling like he should say something. Mr. Hummel had just shared something very personal with him and all he could do was gape. He just wasn't sure what said he should say. He was never good with all that 'opening up' crap; even his coming out to his mother was about as emotionless as he could make it. He simply sat her down, told her he was dating someone and that someone's name's was Kurt and yes, he was a guy. Not that he hadn't been scared shitless, or that his hands weren't shaking, but there were no big, passionate declarations, no tears or hugs, just dry stating of facts. He had had some practice with this before, when he had told his mother that he had gotten a girl pregnant and that they had both decided (Quinn decided and informed him) it would be the best to give the baby up.
Overwhelmed by the need to just do something, he reached for the check and once again looked at the sum. Mr. Hummel's handwriting was hard to decipher, Kurt had complained about it more than once, but there was no mistaking that the amount on the check was identical to the one that had been there ten minutes before.
“It's still an insane amount of money to give to someone you've just admitted you barely know”.
“It's exactly as much as I own Mary, inflation included.” Mr Hummel returned matter-of-factly. “Had my bookkeeper look into it.
Realization finally downed on Noah. Suddenly, everything made sense “So you are...”
“Paying Mary back. Whatever you do with this money is your choice, but I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't believe you'd make the right decisions. If you don't...” he shrugged “it's your own life you’ll be wasting, boy”.
Noah hated being referred to as 'boy’ - it reeked of patronage - but he understood what Mr. Hummel was trying to tell him. He was still young; he was allowed to make mistakes and bad decisions.
He thought about Quinn telling him she was pregnant, and then rejecting his attempts to take care of her and the baby; choosing Finn as the father instead and then giving the baby away without letting either of them see her.
About Kurt blowing the note in Defying Gravity to spare his father the harassment.
About Finn dumping Rachel for Quinn after the baby drama ended and about Rachel not fighting for him and moving on.
He thought about himself, sitting on an old sofa next to his half-hysterical, sobbing mother, right after he had told her he was seeing Kurt, awkwardly attempting to calm her down. He thought about the way she'd been after her husband left her with two children to take care of. About her telling him, over and over again, that he'd never achieve anything, that he'd never be someone she could be proud of. Finally, about his little sister asking him what a 'cocksucker' was and why the boys at school had told her that her brother was one.
Every day, Lima broke a new person. It had almost broken him, and he nearly hadn’t realized it. If being with Kurt had taught him just one thing, it was that being a victim was not an option.
“Ok then, let's defy that gravity,” he said it out loud but more to himself than to Mr. Hummel. Folding the check several times, he put it in his left pocket and stood up.
“I don't want your charity, Mr. Hummel, but I am willing to accept a loan. I will pay you back, every single penny”. He was surprised how firm and assured his voice sounded, like he hadn’t been on the verge of tears only a few minutes ago.
“Fine, but go now. My head hurts from all that mental hugging we just did”.
“Mr. Hummel?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry. For not thinking good things about you”. He cringed a little, the look on Mr Hummel's face making him realize he made it sound much worse than it actually had been. “I mean, I know you love Kurt and you're a really great guy and...” he sighed in frustration, struggling for words. He just really sucked at this stuff. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “I thought you despised me for not being good enough for Kurt. I had no reason to think that, other than my own issues.” Wow, that sounded almost eloquent, and he was proud to admit he even knew what 'eloquent' meant.
His confession was met with an eye-roll and an exaggerated sigh “I like you too, you idiot, now go before Kurt catches us and forces us to group hug. Speaking of whom...” Mr. Hummel wasn't looking at him anymore, instead, he was hunching over his desk, seemingly searching for something in one of the drawers.“I think he's going to choose that college in LA he's been talking about for the last week. The artsy one.” Something in the way his shoulders tensed made it clear he was waiting for a reply.
For the first time in days, Noah felt like laughing out loud in joy. “I like California”, he said with a smile, the tips on his fingers gently brushing over the left pocket on his jeans. “I think they have quite a few good schools there. It's a good place to start looking for a college”.
the end
The next Access To The Internet Day may be a week away, so play nice while I'm gone.
Title: Close Your Eyes And Leap
Rating: NC-13 (swear words)
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel
Words: 8,857
Author’s Note: Written for Glee_fest. I'm really sorry this is waaaaaay past the final date - I'm on holidays and have a very sparse access to the internet. First non-anon fic I've written in several years and the longest one ever.
Prompt: by glee_fest round 1 #236. Puck doesn't realize that Burt's being scary is just playful hazing.
Betas: lovelycudy and boysinperil
Spoilers: some to episodes 1-12 (s1)
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way, shape or form. This work of fiction is non-profit
Summary: Puck may not be the sharpest crayon in the box but even he knows Burt Hummel hates his guts.
Close Your Eyes And Leap
It didn't take more than a pair of fairly good eyes and an afternoon with both Hummels to understand one thing about their relationship - Mr. Hummel was incapable of denying his son anything. Maybe this obvious weakness had been caused by guilt over Kurt becoming a half-orphan at a fairly young age. Maybe he wanted to give the boy everything he couldn't have himself, when he was his age.
Noah was ashamed to admit that the first time he had watched Kurt gushing over his brand new Roberto Cavalli jacket, he silently suspected that Mr. Hummel was scared to say no to Kurt. That saying no would mean 'I don't accept you' and back then all that Noah could see when looking at Kurt, was an effeminate gay singer in expensive clothing. Take away the clothes and all you have left is a pissed off, bitchy diva, with a rotten attitude and a high-pitched voice. Who would like to live with something like that under their roof?
Whatever Mr. Hummel's reasons, the facts remained clear; Kurt spent more just on his personal care products in a week than the Puckerman family spent on the monthly groceries. Occasionally, Mr. Hummel would fume reading his son's credit card statement, but he'd never actively gotten in the way of Kurt's nefarious plan to own absolutely every design of Gucci scarves in existence.
It didn't stop on clothes.
Kurt wanted a car? He got one, and while technically speaking it was true that he had gotten it taken away inconveniently fast, the statement was not false. Kurt had wanted to spend two weeks with his cousins in Milan, doing whatever there was to do in Milan? He had the tickets as fast as it took to book them.
And when Kurt had decided to start dating Lima Loser Number Two, Noah Puckerman (who was such a loser he couldn't even get to the top spot in the biggest loser competition - as his mother would often tell him, probably not realizing that this joke was so old that it was chasing other jokes off its lawn), he didn't object much more than was appropriate, considering the circumstances.
Thick as pig shit or not, Noah hadn't been fooled. While Mr. Hummel seemed polite enough not to say anything in his face, nor had he ever apparently said anything to Kurt, Noah knew the truth - Mr. Hummel hated his guts. What father wouldn't? His golden boy, his only son, dating a guy who had impregnated his best friend's girlfriend at the tender age of 16 and then said nothing when the said girlfriend lied to his best friend about being the father. A guy who had had sex with every cougar feeling bad enough about herself to spread her legs for a frisky high school kid with a nipple ring and a bad boy attitude.
It was funny - in that sad, totally unfunny way that made you cringe when you thought about it - how he used to consider that a highlight of his existence.
Every day Noah prayed that Mr. Hummel wouldn't add “Kurt's bully” to the already disturbing list of things he knew about his son's boyfriend. His role in turning Kurt's early high school years into hell had been more than active; slushies, offensive notes in and on his locker, dumpster tossing, name calling... that wasn't even scraping the surface.
Once upon a time, Kurt had been the go-to guy when Puck had a bad day at school or at home, and needed a pick-me-up. A pick-me-up that often, ironically, consisted of picking Kurt up and throwing him into the dumpster. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had acknowledged that those activities were just distracting him from what a distressingly pathetic life he was leading; it could have been virtually anywhere between joining New Directions and winning Sectionals.
After Sectionals, he kind of started being friends with Kurt. The Puck who thought sleeping with mums and bullying geeks was awesome would had never, in a million years, have allowed himself to even consider the fag worth knowing, let alone liking. Sadly- and put that as number seventy-eight on the list of Things That Noah Regrets - his reasons to befriend Kurt in the first place were more than a little sinister.
It was probably too many late night marathons of “The L Word” that made Noah believe that if he got Kurt to forgive him for what he had been doing to him (forgive for real, not in a “yeah, whatever, we're BFFs, now go away, you’re blocking my sun” way), then it would somehow make everything better. It would prove to Quinn that he could be better. Look at me and Kurt, he silently begged for her to notice, every time he complimented Kurt's new pair of jeans or offered to accompany him on his guitar. You'd have never thought we could be friends, but we are. I've changed. I'm not that asswipe you hated so much, anymore. Just ask my new Gay Best Friend Kurt! If I could change about that, I can change everything! I can be a good dad! Good for both of you!
It might have been a monumentally idiotic plan, one that made him look even more of a jackass to boot, but at that point, he was desperate enough to believe in fairy godmothers if they had only promised him a happy ending.
Kurt had been caution and suspicious, and made Puck work hard for his trust, and in the end, it all turned out to be worth shit when Quinn completely rejected Noah's attempts to impress her. Looking back, he knew she had been completely right; there was nothing he could have offered her or their baby. His daughter was better off with a loving family that could provide for her. Back then, though? He had wanted to throw himself on the floor and howl in frustration.
Somewhere along the way, amongst all this mess and constant heartache, Kurt's friendship stopped being an instrument and became the goal. Noah could never understate the importance of having someone like Kurt Hummel in his life- someone fierce and loyal and honest, a shoulder to cry on if he was feeling down, and a smack on the head if he was acting like a cretin.
Kurt was someone who would snark when Puck decided to call him at 4am, drunk and miserable, but who wouldn't hang up. He would listen, and would never throw the things Puck said back in his face the next morning, no matter how much he expected it.
Attempting to identify that specific moment where the need to be friends morphed into something more turned out to be completely impossible. For the longest time he had denied that the fluttering in his stomach when Kurt would smile at him was anything more than his earlier choice of fast food disagreeing with him; denied that he wanted to make Kurt smile at him. Even when the confusing dreams had begun, he still wouldn't accept the fact that he had fallen for Kurt - because Noah was young, horny and notgettingany, and Kurt was pretty, girly and always frustratingly close . He told himself that as long as he didn't jerk off to those fantasies, he was cool.
Except that he had started to jerk off after several weeks of dreams.
Then that beefed up half-wit of a transfer student started to openly sniff around Kurt, and when he nearly threw himself at the guy because he had dared to ask Kurt out, Puck kind of had no choice but to admit to himself that yes, he was horny for Kurt in a totally not-heterosexual way.
There followed a flurry of sleepless nights, longing gazes, frustrated sighs, nasty comments made to Kurt about his new boyfriend's intelligence and appearance and, on several occasions, drunken sexts that Kurt, fortunately, was unable to decipher.
It was profoundly liberating, that day when he had finally decided to just approach Kurt after Glee and tell him that his boyfriend was a moron and he should date him instead.
But no amount of apologies and excuses could change the past, no matter how much he wished to do so, and he still couldn't understand Mr. Hummel.
He knew most of the stuff that came out of Kurt's father’s mouth were thickly veiled insults - some of which took him a wordbook to decipher, some of which he still didn't get - but he knew what they were because... well, he just knew, ok? They were different from what he was used to, but so was Mr. Hummel. Noah had once tried to imagine what would have happened if he came out to his father, and the scenarios that his imagination created made him once again grateful that he didn't have to deal with this monumental failure of a parent anymore. He might have resented his father for leaving, but even he was smart enough to realize it was a blessing in disguise.
Sometimes Noah actually wished Mr. Hummel would say something directly, called him an asshole or a failure, because he'd totally know how to react to that - he had years of practice dealing with his mother, a world class master of guilt-tripping.
She still hoped he'd un-gay himself one day, and after the first quadrillion times, he decided that no matter how many times he'd explain it, she just wouldn't get the difference between homo- and bisexuality. Other than that, surprisingly little had changed between them. Nothing improved, but he couldn't say that she had become more malicious in her off-hand comments. She gained two new favourites though: an utterly inaccurate 'I will never have grandchildren' and any variety of 'people are talking.' The key was to meet her comments with a shrug or to pretend he didn't hear them. If she was getting particularly nasty, he'd just remind her that Nazis hated gay people too. That one usually shut her up for at least an hour.
He even went as far as to bring Kurt home on several occasions; his mother was nothing but polite, though she did turn sighing with pained resignation every time she'd as much as glanced at them into a form of art.
Bottom line: Noah could stand being insulted to his face and, thanks to his father, being smacked around; he could stand odd stares and guilt-trips, but every time he was faced with Mr. Hummel, Noah felt like a mouse with a tail stuck between cat's teeth. This man could channel both of his parents at the same time and yet, do it subtly enough for Noah not to get the insult until several days later.
It was weird, it was nothing he was used to, he wished it would stop or at least that someone would kindly provide him with a Puckerman to Hummel dictionary (the one he had at the moment, the Kurt Hummel edition, was full of words like “Dolce&Gabbana,” “moisturiser” and “incontrovertible” and was not helping him in his situation).
To make things even more confusing for his already struggling brain, there was the incident that happened about two months into his relationship with Kurt, when Mr. Hummel had taken him aside and uttered the first and last straightforward threat that Noah had ever heard coming from him.
***
Noah was not a person that would walk with a spring in his step but this one time, even he had to admit, he was almost skipping. It should have bothered him - he might be a bit gayer than only six months before and Kurt's many quirks were definitely rubbing off on him,but he was still a badass stud. Yet, how could he not feel awesome on a day like this? He hadn't been slushied or called a “fag” in over a week, he actually got a B on a test, and tomorrow, Mr. Hummel would leave for a whole weekend, leaving him and Kurt completely alone for the first time.
And they had plans!
Kurt had been working at the garage every evening this week, as Mr. Hummel wanted to make sure all the important jobs were finished before he left. The guy wasn't a workaholic by a long shot - the countless times he'd skip work just to watch TV at home was the cause of Kurt's unfaltering “always keep your shirt on, dad hunts” rule - but there was a reason his garage was considered the best in the county. Mr. Hummel personally supervised each repair, and Kurt was the only person he trusted to help him with that.
So, while Kurt and his dad were having their After School Special father-son moments, discussing broken engines and crooked exhaust-pipes, Noah was stuck at his place, with only his sister and a brand new PS3 for a company. Well, he had never claimed that having a rich boyfriend didn't have its perks. Today, though, Mr. Hummel had allowed Kurt to skip most of the evening, as Kurt had started to complain about this amount of constant manual labour ruining his manicure. From what he had said earlier at school, they were done with the majority of the cars anyway.
Letting himself inside the garage, Noah sat in the waiting area and glanced at the clock. Kurt had promised him he'd be ready before five, and it was only quarter past four. He occupied himself by reading an old issue of some motoring magazine, and he had become so engrossed by it he didn't even notice Mr. Hummel taking a seat opposite him, until he heard a sharp 'Puckerman.'
He lifted his head to offer his greeting, but the look in Mr. Hummel's eye made the words die in his throat. For a second it seemed that the two men were having a staring contest, and Noah was losing. Badly. The air seemed charged, the tension lifting the hair on the nape of his neck. He had no idea what it was all about but he didn't feel like asking. Then something truly dangerous, almost desperate, flashed in Mr. Hummel's eyes and Noah cringed involuntary, fully expecting to be thrown across the garage. He had seen this look before, on numerous occasions, and while he wasn't a scrawny seven year old anymore, Mr. Hummel was still big enough to intimidate him.
. After an agonizingly long ten seconds, during which Mr. Hummel continued staring at Noah, he finally leaned forward, not losing the eye contact even for a brief second.
“You will respect my son”, he said in a low voice, emphasizing each word, “Before, during and after, you will keep him safe and if you cause him any pain, physical or emotional, I will castrate you, Puckerman, and then have you eat what I cut off. Do you understand me?”
Now, the thing was, he didn't. Noah wasn't the sharpest pen in the drawer on the best of days, and Mr. Hummel's aggravated stare did nothing to convince his brain to process the data any quicker. A bead of sweat ran down his spine while he contemplated what sort of reply wouldn't get him killed, and Mr. Hummel growled, obviously not pleased with the amount of time it was taking to get the answer from his son's boyfriend.
Finally, years of playing football kicked in, and Noah's thoughts started to move on their own. The pattern was familiar - find the threat, eliminate, run. The threat was three inches from his face, staring at him intensely enough to bore holes in his proverbially thick skull, so point one was taken off the imaginary list pretty quickly.
As far as elimination went, the only idea he had gotten was to nod dumbly and mutter (not squeak , he was a stud and as such, by definition, did not squeak) “Of course, sir. Always.”
It was a no-brainer, that one; he had found at a very early age that when confronted with a grown man who had the ability to punch your face in, you always agreed, even if you didn't agree. (Are you really that stupid Noah? Do you want to give me a fucking heart attack? You are a disgrace, you know that? You take after your mother, you are not my son, because no son of mine could be this retarded, get it?). Though it had often done him no good, and he would get a beating anyway, he swould agree every time - because sometimes it worked, and that “sometimes” was worth every 'Yes, sir' he could stutter out before the first punch landed.
There were no punches this time, just an enigmatically pleasant 'Good,' and Mr. Hummel was out of his personal space and back in his office.
The brainy, up-until-now silent part of Noah, which had frozen when confronted with Mr. Hummel death-glare of paternal disapproval, was beginning to catch up, quickly filling the blanks.
“You will respect my son, before, during and after sex, you will keep him safe during sex and if you cause him any pain during sex, physical or emotional (during sex), I will castrate you, Puckerman and then have you eat what I cut off so you can never have sex with my son again.”
Well, shit! Had he just had a quasi-conversation with Mr. Hummel about gay sex? Better than that, had he actually confirmed to Mr. Hummel what he and Kurt had planned while he was away for the weekend?
That would be a big fat double yes.
A stupidly defiant part of him, the same part that made him stand up to the teachers for all the wrong reasons and had once refused to give up on Quinn and her - their daughter, wanted him to follow Mr. Hummel and inform him that ok, they were planning something special this weekend but it wasn't that sort of “special” that Mr. Hummel was clearly implying and... and Jesus, now he was thinking about Kurt's father thinking about Kurt and him having sex the gay way.
Convinced that this particular image had lodged itself so deeply into his psyche, that only several years of intense therapy (that he would happily make Mr. Hummel pay for) would help him, he stood up, navigated his way out of the garage into the street and, abandoning the idea of taking Kurt out anywhere that evening, ran as fast as he could. He ran until his lungs couldn't draw a single breath anymore, until all the blood in his body had been directed to his lower extremities, until he had seen spots and felt like fainting and throwing up at the same time. He wished he could run for ever, because the moment he stopped, his brain picked up again, definitely deciding to make up for the earlier lack in activity by throwing the most disturbing images he could conjure straight at him.
Mr. Hummel knew they were having or, to be more precise, were about to have sex, he knew that Lima Loser Puckerman was fouling his baby chick in the man's own nest and, worst of all, had an impressive collection of crowbars and knew where Noah lived.
In that particular moment, Noah considered himself rendered completely impotent.
How the hell he had managed to actually get an erection that weekend, let alone go through with the entire thing - and let's be clear once again, not “it,” just “something” - he would never know, though he suspected that a naked, blushing Kurt lying himself down on the burgundy sheets he had bought especially for the occasion had something to do with it.
So yeah, Noah Puckerman was thoroughly fucked. He had been fucked even before he had kissed Kurt for the first time, before he had asked him out on a first date or held his hand in public... Hell no, he was lying to himself - before he had even realized that that gay kid he had spent years tormenting, mistreating and insulting, would become his Big Gay Crush. He was fucked because Mr. Hummel and his unconditional love for his son had always been and always would be there, and in his eyes, Noah Puckerman was temporary and nothing more than a whim, like another pair of D&G shades, and he would be suffered through and then discarded and forgotten about and now he was suffering from a verbal diarrhoea in his own head and fuck!
***
But that was months ago, and there were no other incidents of this sort, even the next time Mr. Hummel left them alone for the weekend or when he caught them making out in the living room.
Noah suspected he had realized that he wasn't worth the hassle. Kurt was already knee-deep in college brochures and with his grades, talent, and his father's money, finding a suitable school as far away from Ohio as possible would be a walk in the park. Kurt would move away, leave Lima forever and Noah would stay here, stuck in some dead end job, with a wife he probably wouldn't really love that much.
It's actually quite funny how many things one can think about, even someone whose brain isn't their strongest asset, when confronted with the most confusing moment of their life... ok, third most confusing moment of their life - for Noah, realizing he wanted to have sex with Kurt Hummel was the most confusing moment of his life, second only to realizing he wanted a relationship with Kurt Hummel.
As had been established, Mr. Hummel hated Noah from the moment he had set eyes on him; he hated his oversexed libido, his tendencies to be a complete jerk, his ability to cause pain to people without even aiming to do so, and, above all, Mr. Hummel hated that Noah was not what his son deserved, even in Lima.
There was one problem though - people who hated you didn't offer you money. People who hated you wanted you to be stuck in a dead-end job with that wife you didn't love and kids you would disappoint. They would probably even call you from time to time, just to hear you lying to them that everything is peachy.
Then why was he having this conversation with Mr. Hummel? And why was he holding a check for a sum larger than what he would earn in the first year of his (dead-end, wife and kids, etcetera) job?
“I don't understand, Mr. Hummel”, he started slowly, confused. He'd never pegged Mr. Hummel for the type of a guy who found playing around with invisible ink amusing; “I don't understand what is it for.”
Leaning forward, Kurt’s father looked him straight in the eye. This time, unlike the last time they’d been sitting opposite to one another like this, Noah couldn't spot anything menacing in that glare, just curiosity. Noah felt a shiver running down his spine. He didn't like when things got this peculiar; that often signified trouble or, one time, a drastic turn in thinking about one’s sexuality.
“Kurt told me that you would like to go to a good college but can't afford it.” he heard the plain explanation. “He's pretty upset by it; thinks that you could achieve a lot if only given a chance. I want to give you a chance, Noah.”
Oh, of course. Now that he thought about it, he was really surprised he didn't see it from the beginning. Kurt had already mentioned several times that he shouldn't give up on himself so early in his life;he had even tried to help him fill in some documents, scrunching his pretty little face when Noah just laughed at the preposterous idea. As he had explained to his still frowning boyfriend, smiling in a way that Kurt would later describe as “condescending”, there was nothing he'd like more than attending a nice, out-of-the-state college. Unfortunately, his parents hadn't thought that “Noah's college fund” was worth considering, let alone setting up, so he had to think realistically, which in his case meant a crappy college, not far away from home. He was counting his blessings there were colleges dumpy enough to want him as a student.
That must have upset Kurt, which easily translated into an upset Mr. Hummel, which, in turn, meant that the problem had to be fixed - quickly and permanently. The easiest way to do so, the Hummel way, was to pay for it to go away. Yes, Noah Puckerman had officially become a Gucci scarf.
His hands began to tremble when that staggering conclusion dawned on him. Being reduced to an item stung his pride, but God, so much money.... the things he could do with it. He could actually leave the state like he always wanted, pick a major he would enjoy, start a new life away from Lima, Ohio and the sad remains of himself that were scattered all over this God-forsaken town. And then he could even learn how to fly from all those pigs.
“I'm really sorry Mr. Hummel. I mean, I appreciate this gesture, I really do, you have no idea how much, it's really kind and generous,” he stammered out, tripping over the words. He snapped his mouth shut and then tried again, more slowly. “Thank you, but Kurt's wrong.”Sighing, with a heavy heart, he put the check on the flat surface of the desk between them. “This is a waste of your money.” He smirked to himself. “It'd be better if you gave this to Kurt, he could use a new Gucci scarf or something”. Wow, he didn't actually just use a running joke between himself and himself, did he? How delightfully pathetic.
Mr. Hummel glared at him for several seconds, glanced at the check and then returned his stare to Noah. He did nothing to indicate he accepted Noah's explanation.
“You’re not as stupid as you pretend to be, son.” The moniker that Mr. Hummel had applied to him literally caused Noah's eyebrows to shoot up in shock. In the years they had known each other, Mr. Hummel had called him a lot of things but the word 'son' had always been exclusive to Kurt and Kurt alone. He had no idea how to react, if to react at all, because Mr. Hummel kept talking, without missing a beat, seemingly oblivious to Noah's confusion.
“You may not have the best grades, but you can easily get into a good college; you won the Regionals, came third at Nationals, that should mean something. This,” he gestured to the piece of paper between them “will help you set yourself up, wherever you want. It may not work out but wouldn't it be better if you tried?”
Noah's answered with a sharp, frustrated snort, as his eyes involuntary flickering to the check. “That's a lot of money to offer to a potential failure”.
His statement was met with nothing more than a shrug “We all can fail, every day. Kurt believes in you and I believe in my son's judgement”.
This wasn't what Noah had expected to hear, but then, this entire conversation was shaping in a way he hadn't expected. When Mr. Hummel had invited him to his office he suspected to be questioned about the box of cherry-flavoured condoms Kurt had misplaced several days earlier, during their rather passionate quickie in the kitchen.
Tearing his eyes away from this impossibly tempting check, he looked up sharply, registering the surprise his obvious anger invoked in Mr. Hummel.
“With all due respect, sir, your son is very naïve for an eighteen years old,” he spat out.
Noah expected that his would bring the end to this conversation in a shape of Mr. Hummel's shoe kicking him outside, but instead, it only earned him a polite smile. “The last deep, meaningful conversation I had was with Kurt, when he told me you asked him out. I'm a bit rusty, so can you just tell me what do you need to hear from me to accept this check?”
Mr. Hummel waited patiently for almost a minute, as Noah frowned, struggling to come up with an answer. There were just too many things he wanted to say at once, none of them significant enough to garner a priority before the other. He finally settled for “This's just really weird,” and sighed, running his hand through his shortly cropped hair.
His head was hurting now, he needed to lie down. And then he needed to phone Kurt and shout at him for half an hour for putting him in this situation. Even the obvious consequence of this action - no sex for a couple of days - weren't scaring him away.
He was already composing his “I'm so sorry, baby, can I at least get a hand job?” speech, and since he was never good at multi-tasking, the sound of Mr. Hummel's voice startled him visibly. “Kurt has an incredible intuition when it comes to people. If I didn't believe it, I would have never allowed him to date someone like you, but I took that gamble and it paid off. You are a good guy, Noah, but you give yourself too little credit. Sometimes it's good to look at ourselves with the eyes of someone else; we may learn a lot”.
It sounded almost like a challenge, and Noah decided to pick up this glove. If Mr. Hummel wanted to be deep, he'd give him deep. What was the worst thing that could happen, he'd finally hear the truth instead of just had it hinted at? Shouldn't that be considered a good thing?
“What do you see, then, Mr. Hummel?” He tilted his chin up, too late realizing he was copying Kurt's signature head movement. “Honestly”.
If Mr. Hummel had noticed the obvious resemblance he didn't comment on it. Instead he opted for answering the question. He spoke slowly, as he hadn't rehearsed this speech countless times in his head - and before he finished, it struck Noah that he probably hadn't. “A boy who isn't willing to try, though why, I can only suspect. I don't know if you’re afraid to fail or if you just think you’re not good enough, but I don't see a coward. You can't tell me that being gay in Lima takes less guts than finding yourself a good school”.
Noah felt as if someone stunned him. He even forgot to correct Mr. Hummel that he wasn't gay but bisexual (with strong preference towards middle-aged women and effeminate, bitchy teenage boys - and seriously, what was with old people and their inability to grasp the obvious difference between those two?). Blinking, he attempted to collect his thoughts, but everything felt woozy to him. The things he'd just heard, they didn't sound like something that someone who hated you would say. They sounded almost sincere and... sympathetic? Surely, it must have been a trick - Mr. Hummel understood that Noah wouldn't take the money without being fed a bunch of plausible sounding lies and decided to do so, for Kurt's sake. But then, why not just tell him that? Burt Hummel was not the sugar-coating type.
“One of us has to start telling the truth,”, he thought bitterly ”Any more of that, and I'll get one of those strain nose-bleeds.”
“It's my turn now, right?” Taking a deep breath when Mr. Hummel nodded confirmation, he finally said what he'd itched to express since the moment this surreal conversation started.
“You don't like me. I'm a scarf.”
Mr. Hummel opened his mouth to answer but quickly closed it, realizing probably that there wasn't anything he could answer to something so unusual. He frowned and the way he inclined his eyebrows was so identical to Kurt's, it took a lot for Noah not to smirk and point it out.
“That's pretty random”.
Ok, fair enough. “You don't like me, Mr. Hummel, but Kurt does, so you accept me,” he said with a shrug, as if it didn't hurt to admit it. “I'm just another thing your son wants and though you don't understand why, it makes him happy, so whatever. He's upset that I can't go to college and you hate seeing him upset. That's why you want to give me this money; not for me, for him. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, you are an amazing dad to Kurt, but I am not a scarf, I won't be bought.” Not any more.
If this situation had any more irony in it, it would be confusing compasses. It was Kurt who had taught him that he was worth something, that if he had tried hard enough, he could become more than a toy for bored, neglected housewives. That he should aim to express himself, to be what he had never had a courage to consider being. And now his new found self-worth was actively blocking him from taking a chance to be even more.
Forget “ironic”, you know what it was? Fucking unfair, that's what it was!
He threw a one last, regretful look at the infernal check and stood up without a word, preparing himself to leave. A sharp, definite “Sit.” put him back in his place so quickly that it bruised his ass.
“You're right, in part.” Mr. Hummel was talking again, and Noah sighed, realizing the conversation was far from over. He just wanted to go home and wallow in self-pity. He was a teenager, surely that was allowed and even expected of him. Unfortunately, Mr. Hummel was either completely oblivious or indifferent to his discomfort. “I hate seeing Kurt upset,” he continued with a nod, “and he's the one that gave me this idea, but I can assure you, it's not why I'm doing it. I need to ask, though... what makes you think I don't like you?”
He seemed genuinely curious and Noah began considering just bolting. He hated the situation he was in, he hated talking about his feelings, even the much needed conversations with Kurt were a torment each time. He felt like throwing something at Mr. Hummel, a heavy object or a curse, but in the end, he just threw his hands in the air. “You don't!” he exclaimed in frustration, something in him finally breaking. “You never did and I get it, ok? I'm an asshole, was an asshole, and a nobody, and Kurt deserves, I don't fucking know, a prince, ok? I get it!” His voice became louder, his vision started to blur. “I come to your house, and you think 'Well fuck, great, why couldn't it be that Hudson guy, he's nice,' but Finn doesn't want Kurt, he wants Quinn, even if I did knock her up.” He swallowed the bile in his throat that the mention of Quinn's pregnancy always put there, but continued, too far gone to care. “So you think it won't last long but it lasts ages and you get angry because you can't just get rid of me, because Kurt actually, get that, likes me. In a likes-likes way. And guess what, Mr. Hummel, I actually do know I’m worth something, because that's what your son taught me and that’s why I can't take this money. Because I am too proud for that shit now. And that really fucking sucks, because I really really want to take it.”
He was close to tears now but not the prissy tears Kurt liked to cry when watching RENT or listening to the Wicked soundtrack. These were the tears of frustration and anger, the kind he got acquainted to during the weeks he had spent pondering the future of his then unborn daughter, and if Noah's fists weren't clenched so tightly on the edge of Mr. Hummel's desk, he would probably have put them in his mouth and whimpered like a baby. Too busy trying not too hyperventilate, he didn't even notice when Mr. Hummel put an unlabelled bottle with a suspicious-looking brown liquid in front of him.
“Drink,” he ordered, and Noah didn't even attempt to argue with that. His hands were moving on autopilot when he reached for the bottle and took a deep swing. He had no idea what sort of alcohol it was, but it burned his throat in a way that promised oblivion. He had problems with swallowing and initially, he blamed it on the strength of the unidentified spirit, before he realized that his throat was raw from clenching over dry sobs.
Forget being bisexual or a scarf; he was officially gay now. His membership card was already mailed, should arrive the day after tomorrow.
It might have been a minute or an hour later, before Noah calmed himself enough to start feeling shame. His nose was running and he gratefully accepted the handkerchief Mr. Hummel offered him as he simultaneously preyed the half-empty bottle from between his clenched fingers. He vaguely wondered if he should be worried about his eyes getting puffy - Kurt always did that when he cried or nearly cried, and since he was gay now, he might as well take pointers from the best gay guy that he knew. Ok, the only gay guy he knew, but he was pretty sure Kurt had this whole gayness thing down to the last detail.
Mr. Hummel was hovering somewhere behind him, discomfort radiating from every inch of his body, probably trying to determine if Noah needed anything else. The truth was he did but it was nothing Mr. Hummel could had offer him; he needed to get back in time to that moment right before he exploded in frustration and started whining like a little bitch. “I don't dislike you.” he heard finally, after Mr. Hummel returned to his spot behind the desk. For a guy built like a brick house, he knew how to move stealthily. “I honestly think you are a good guy and good to Kurt. I just...”
He took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his head with his forearm, and then sat down, heavily. It was always quite chilly in the garage, and it was no different today, so Noah had to assume Mr. Hummel was nervous. He struggled with this idea slightly, he had seen this man in twenty shade of anger but never anything close to anxiety - but there it was. It was oddly comforting. “After that, eh, meltdown” he continued, replacing the cap to its rightful place. “The one where I, eh, threatened you a bit, you know.” Oh yes, Noah knew. “I thought I'd give you and Kurt some space. The last thing any teenager needs, it's the old man breathing down his neck.”
Noah kept his eyes glued firmly to the hands he folded on his knees. “Yes, but...” He stopped, when it dawned on him he had no idea how to continue. The list of all the things he meant to say, the things he had always silently complained to himself about was rapidly shortening, as he, himself, started rebuffing each point.
So Mr. Hummel looked at him weirdly. He was having sex with his son, what father wouldn't? That he often said things using that grouchy, impatient tone? He was using the same tone with Kurt and no one could deny how much he loved his son. His thinly-veiled semi-insults were more often directed at Kurt than at him. What the hell was his problem in a first place? So his daddy left him, his mother liked to remind him he was worthless and he had a daughter he'd never see or even know the name of. What did any of those things have to do with Mr. Hummel?
Whatever was in that bottle, it had radically improved Noah's deducting skills. It was probably one of those fabled German spirits he had heard so much about.
“I don't know,” he stated eventually, sighing in resignation. “I just thought that and now, I don't know.”
“Son,” and there it was that word again! “I know I may seem like a boar to people who don't know me, but after almost a year of you spending every waking hour in my house, I would have thought you know me a bit better than that.” Well yeah, he should have, shouldn't he? It would have been much better if he had gotten that bottle before he had broken down. Come to think of it, he should had gotten it before he started dating Kurt, would probably have saved him a lot of hassle and sleepless nights, when he had been trying to figure out everything that needed to be figured out when you found yourself ejected from “confirmed promiscuous, heterosexual jackass” straight to “bisexual monogamist, tries to be nice”.
His throat started to burn again.“Looks like I'm not that smart as you thought, Mr. Hummel”.
That earned him a good-natured snort. “Self-pity doesn't suit you, Noah. It's partially my fault though. I should have made you feel more welcome. Do you realize this is the longest conversation that we had ever had?” he asked. “I'm not a big fan of all that 'talking about your feelings' stuff, but if you must know, I didn't like you at the beginning. You know your own faults well enough but you were not ashamed of my son, and you endured a lot to be with him. You have no idea how much I respect that.” He smiled. “You made Kurt really, really happy, happier than he'd ever been. I swear, I am not trying to pay you for what you did for Kurt, I honestly see what he sees in you. I don't want it to go to waste”.
Noah didn't know how to reply to that, so he remained silent. He wondered if any of Mr. Hummel's employees heard him shouting earlier and his cheeks began to burn in shame.
“If I tell you why exactly I am so determined to shove that check down your throat, you have to promise you won't tell Kurt. I don't want him to know.”
The sudden, unexpected vulnerability in Mr. Hummel's voice made Noah finally pry his eyes away from his lap to examine the man in front of him. He found that it was Mr. Hummel who was looking down at the hands now. He nodded, then, realizing that Mr. Hummel couldn't have possibly seen that gesture, confirmed with a short “Sure.”
“I'm doing this for Mary.”
That name definitely rang a bell. “Kurt's mom.” he stated, surprised when Mr. Hummel shook his head in denial.
“No, his grandmother,” he explained “my Mary's mother.”
Deciding against asking why would anyone name a daughter after herself, Noah continued to listen.
“When I met Mary, my wife I mean,” he began his explanation, at the same time allowing his gaze to slide back up to Noah's face, ”I was younger than you. It was love at first sight, for both of us, but she was the only heir to her family's fortune and I was so poor I couldn't afford a decent pair of shoes.” There was a pause that Noah could easily identify as uncomfortable. For a second it seemed that Mr Hummel changed his mind, that he wouldn't continue, but then he did, his the next sentence explaining the hesitation “I was also a bit of a jerk and a bully with a terrible reputation.” Noah didn't need to contemplate it too closely, he recognized the look on the face of the man sitting opposite him straight away, because he'd seen it too many times glaring back at him from the mirror. It was shame.
“Her father wasn't pleased when he found out, told Mary to stop wasting her time with me and find herself someone on her level. She refused, so he disowned her.” Mr Hummel spat out those last words as if they were venomous and Noah suspected that for him, they were. His thoughts inevitably returned to Quinn and the situation she had faced after she’dtold her parents she was pregnant. Some things, it seemed, some kind of people, would never change.
He tried to imagine doing something like that to his own daughter, just chucking his flesh and blood away because of one mistake that hadn't been entirely her fault, but his mind revolted against the idea. His throat felt constricted again, and he forced himself to swallow, regretting that Mr. Hummel took the alcohol away - its bitterness was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his mouth at the moment.
He wondered if he would always feel like that, if in twenty years he'd be in Mr Hummel's position, recapping his story to someone, still feeling the same mix of anger, shame and apathy.
“So what happened then?” he asked, cringing at the uncharacteristic weakness of his voice. This entire conversation was draining him, but he had promised to listen and it seemed like Mr. Hummel needed to tell.
“She moved in with me and my parents. I never, not once, heard her complain, though living there was light years away from what she was used to. She was always strong and...” his voice faltered and he frowned, obviously displeased that he once again allowed his emotions to show.
“Several months later her mother came to us, told me she had threatened her husband with a divorce if he didn't take Mary back.” He sounded firmer this time, reprimanding, as if he were scolding himself for allowing his emotions to get the best of him “He refused to unless she left me, so Kurt's grandma sold all the jewelery she had and brought us the money. Believe you me, that was a lot of money. She told me then that she saw a potential in me and she would be damned if I didn't get a chance I deserved, especially that now Mary was my responsibility”. Recalling the moment, he smiled- gently, gratefully, showing positive emotions for the first time since he'd began telling this story. “It was enough to start my own business and as you can see, I'm still managing pretty well. I'd always intended to give her all of it back, but she and her husband died in a car crash some time later. Turned out that they left her everything after all, and after Mary died...” he made a poignant pause “well, it'll all belong to Kurt one day”.
Noah had heard part of this story before, the part with Kurt getting filthy rich one day, but he hadn't heard anything about his mother being kicked out of her house by her parents. Judging from what Mr. Hummel had said before he started his trip down the memory lane, Kurt didn't know any of it. He wondered what Mr. Hummel had told him about his grandparents. That they were kind? Loving? Did he choose to lie or just speak in half-truths?
The silence between them began feeling awkward. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, feeling like he should say something. Mr. Hummel had just shared something very personal with him and all he could do was gape. He just wasn't sure what said he should say. He was never good with all that 'opening up' crap; even his coming out to his mother was about as emotionless as he could make it. He simply sat her down, told her he was dating someone and that someone's name's was Kurt and yes, he was a guy. Not that he hadn't been scared shitless, or that his hands weren't shaking, but there were no big, passionate declarations, no tears or hugs, just dry stating of facts. He had had some practice with this before, when he had told his mother that he had gotten a girl pregnant and that they had both decided (Quinn decided and informed him) it would be the best to give the baby up.
Overwhelmed by the need to just do something, he reached for the check and once again looked at the sum. Mr. Hummel's handwriting was hard to decipher, Kurt had complained about it more than once, but there was no mistaking that the amount on the check was identical to the one that had been there ten minutes before.
“It's still an insane amount of money to give to someone you've just admitted you barely know”.
“It's exactly as much as I own Mary, inflation included.” Mr Hummel returned matter-of-factly. “Had my bookkeeper look into it.
Realization finally downed on Noah. Suddenly, everything made sense “So you are...”
“Paying Mary back. Whatever you do with this money is your choice, but I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't believe you'd make the right decisions. If you don't...” he shrugged “it's your own life you’ll be wasting, boy”.
Noah hated being referred to as 'boy’ - it reeked of patronage - but he understood what Mr. Hummel was trying to tell him. He was still young; he was allowed to make mistakes and bad decisions.
He thought about Quinn telling him she was pregnant, and then rejecting his attempts to take care of her and the baby; choosing Finn as the father instead and then giving the baby away without letting either of them see her.
About Kurt blowing the note in Defying Gravity to spare his father the harassment.
About Finn dumping Rachel for Quinn after the baby drama ended and about Rachel not fighting for him and moving on.
He thought about himself, sitting on an old sofa next to his half-hysterical, sobbing mother, right after he had told her he was seeing Kurt, awkwardly attempting to calm her down. He thought about the way she'd been after her husband left her with two children to take care of. About her telling him, over and over again, that he'd never achieve anything, that he'd never be someone she could be proud of. Finally, about his little sister asking him what a 'cocksucker' was and why the boys at school had told her that her brother was one.
Every day, Lima broke a new person. It had almost broken him, and he nearly hadn’t realized it. If being with Kurt had taught him just one thing, it was that being a victim was not an option.
“Ok then, let's defy that gravity,” he said it out loud but more to himself than to Mr. Hummel. Folding the check several times, he put it in his left pocket and stood up.
“I don't want your charity, Mr. Hummel, but I am willing to accept a loan. I will pay you back, every single penny”. He was surprised how firm and assured his voice sounded, like he hadn’t been on the verge of tears only a few minutes ago.
“Fine, but go now. My head hurts from all that mental hugging we just did”.
“Mr. Hummel?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry. For not thinking good things about you”. He cringed a little, the look on Mr Hummel's face making him realize he made it sound much worse than it actually had been. “I mean, I know you love Kurt and you're a really great guy and...” he sighed in frustration, struggling for words. He just really sucked at this stuff. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “I thought you despised me for not being good enough for Kurt. I had no reason to think that, other than my own issues.” Wow, that sounded almost eloquent, and he was proud to admit he even knew what 'eloquent' meant.
His confession was met with an eye-roll and an exaggerated sigh “I like you too, you idiot, now go before Kurt catches us and forces us to group hug. Speaking of whom...” Mr. Hummel wasn't looking at him anymore, instead, he was hunching over his desk, seemingly searching for something in one of the drawers.“I think he's going to choose that college in LA he's been talking about for the last week. The artsy one.” Something in the way his shoulders tensed made it clear he was waiting for a reply.
For the first time in days, Noah felt like laughing out loud in joy. “I like California”, he said with a smile, the tips on his fingers gently brushing over the left pocket on his jeans. “I think they have quite a few good schools there. It's a good place to start looking for a college”.
the end