Broken part. 11
Sorry, guys, been sick for the past week so this chapter's a little short but there's internet cookies for the first person to guess Santana's crush! Enjoy!
Title: I held your head up do you remember? When you wanted to make a blanket out of me.
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Puck/Kurt, Santana/??
Warning: Uh, nothing?
Author's Note: Anybody paying attention to what day of the week we're on? Good. *eg*
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
The following Sunday was quite possibly the finest Sunday Kurt had ever experienced.
It was filled with ignoring all the shit going on in the world and instead appreciating the view of his brand-new Secret Boyfriend, covered in dirt and grease, hauling bits and pieces of cars around Billy’s scrapyard, while Kurt enjoyed the office’s air conditioning and his iPhone’s wonderful camera feature.
He was thinking of putting together a calendar.
So when someone mentions dropping packages off at the airport, he continues hunting for the perfect shot of Puck’s ass in those worn jeans and ignores the niggling feeling he’s forgetting something. When the rumble of a passing jet overhead breaks the silence of the office, he brushes aside the part of him that says ‘You’re missing something important.’ and gets another Diet Coke for himself and a Dr. Pepper for Puck.
It’s not until he’s flipping through the back issues of Car and Driver that a full page ad for Las Vegas finally smacks him upside the head and sends a shiver down his spine as he hears the voice from Thursday replay in his head, complete with the echoing sound effect from the movies.
I’ve just booked myself on the first flight to Cincinnati, then I’ll catch the train into Lima sometime Monday afternoon..
Kurt sits, paralyzed for a full minute, before he slowly and methodically puts the magazine back and stands, straightening his shirt and smoothing his hair before stepping outside to face the music…and literally running into Santana. Before he can even question what she’s doing here on a Sunday, at a scrapyard on the outside of town, wearing the largest pair of over-sized sunglasses since Finn and Quinn’s super-cool episode, she’s grabbing his arm and hauling him around the corner to the tire pile.
“Listen up Hummel. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’re thinking up here but let me just tell you-” She pokes Kurt in the chest and he finds himself wondering if she knows she’s not as scary outside of the Cheerio pack.
“Before I have to listen to your entire rambling threat speech, answer me this.” Kurt crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow. “Are you angry over losing Puck or Brittany?”
“Neither.” Santana snaps out, and she sighs at Kurt’s confused look of disbelief. ‘Look, Britt was fun for awhile, up for anything you could explain to her, and she’s a friend. As long as Wheelchair doesn’t leave her bawling in her Crunchberry smoothie tomorrow, he’s golden. As for Puck…”
The fight seems to die out of her and Santana rolls her eyes as she sits on a stack of all-weather radials.
“I’ve known him since we were both six. We used to take baths together, okay? The ‘with benefits’ thing just kinda happened somehow. The only reason I even dumped him is ’cause I thought we both needed to grow up a little. I mean, we’re sophomores. We can’t keep playing doctor just because he doesn’t care that I still have a stuffed Pikachu doll and I don’t care that he can recite all the dialogue to ‘The Princess Bride’ verbatim.”
Kurt uses his handkerchief to clean off the stack next to her before perching on the sun-warmed rubber. “Then why the ex from hell-on-wheels routine with Quinn?”
“Because Quinn doesn’t want Puck.” The words are spat, and Kurt almost misses what Santana says next as he realizes he may have found an ally in helping Noah. “She wants a picket fence Prince Charming to come take all her cares away. Ninety-seven percent of the time, Quinn Fabray is a sweetheart. The other three percent she’s the biggest queen bitch you’ve ever met. And I’m still not sure which one was in the driver’s seat the one time her and Puck were together.”
The dark words take a second to sink in, and Kurt’s stomach rolls unpleasantly when they do. “You think she…”
“Got knocked up to keep Finn from Rachel?” Santana finally pulls off the ridiculous glasses and rests her chin in her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t even think it matters now. A baby’s a baby. It doesn’t care how it got here or why. It’s just wants someone to love it.” They sit in silence, broken only by the sounds of men shouting across the yard and the clanging of metal.
“So you were coming to give me the hellfire speech to protect Puck?”
Santana digs her toe into the dirt, excavating a pebble with her shoe. “Puck has his own problems. He doesn’t need to take on the world for someone else right now. And whatever socks you might be stuffing those Dereon’s with, the fact that you got thrown in the dumpster almost everyday for a year and can still walk around like you own the world says no matter how pink your brain is, you’re still man enough to deal with your own shit. And maybe some of his.”
“So…” Kurt prods, and she rolls her eyes as he fishes for the acknowledgement.
“So…I guess you’re good enough. Besides,” Santana smirks evilly. “I tried to call him after practice yesterday, see if he wanted to talk or something, and somehow his phone got answered.”
Kurt feels all the blood rush to his face as he tries not to respond.
“Anybody, boy or girl, that can make Noah Puckerman want to take things slow, has something going for them.” Santana kicks the pebble away, brushing her hair back as Kurt stares at her, a glint of black enamel catching his attention.
“Interesting bracelet. Little edgy for you, though.”
“It’s Betsy Johnson. Just because I’m a Cheerio doesn’t make me a Stepford.” She covers the glittering skull charm defensively, hunching her shoulders.
“You’re working it. And just some food for thought,” Kurt leaned closer to whisper confidently. “Last time I checked, she has a Pokeball hanging from her rearview mirror.”
It’s Santana’s turn to blush and Kurt laughs at the strange way things are unfolding. The whole student body is fascinated by the Rachel/Finn/Quinn triangle, when all the real drama was going on behind the scenes.
“What was going on when I grabbed you? You looked like somebody just told you Christian Louboutin died.” Santana rebounds quickly, casting the attention back on him.
“I may have done something rash.” Kurt hesitates as he recalls his one conversation with the woman who even now might be winging her way towards them. “I might have invited Noah’s grandmother here. Tomorrow.”
Santana stares, and stares, and stares and Kurt’s about to shake her or slap her or something when she lets out an ear-splitting shriek. “Hurricane Ella!?! I haven’t seen her for years! Oh my god, does she know about you and Puck?! Does she know about the baby?! What time is she getting here?!”
“Okay, ow!” Kurt pulls her nails off of his arm and looks frantically around in case Puck heard her screeching. “No, she doesn’t know we’re dating, I don’t think. Yes, she knows about Drizzle, and she’s on the afternoon train into town. Listen, Santana.” Kurt grabs her shoulders and shakes them. “I need your help. I need you to run interference for me while I go pick her up.”
Santana’s gaze narrows and she gets a conniving glint in her eye. “On one condition. We have to bring Steve down.”
“Who the hell is Steve?” Kurt questions, before a snippet of a chat with Mercedes clicks in his brain and he hisses out the name. “Blondie.”
“Blondie.” Santana confirms. “He might actually be more annoying then Rachel. And believe me, the way he slobbers after Finn? I think even Captain Oblivious is catching on.”
“Okay. So you help me with Ella, and then we’ll turn our powers to Steve. Deal?” Kurt holds up his pinkie. Santana looks at him for half a second before squaring her shoulders and hooking her little finger through his.
“Deal.”
Title: I held your head up do you remember? When you wanted to make a blanket out of me.
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Puck/Kurt, Santana/??
Warning: Uh, nothing?
Author's Note: Anybody paying attention to what day of the week we're on? Good. *eg*
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
The following Sunday was quite possibly the finest Sunday Kurt had ever experienced.
It was filled with ignoring all the shit going on in the world and instead appreciating the view of his brand-new Secret Boyfriend, covered in dirt and grease, hauling bits and pieces of cars around Billy’s scrapyard, while Kurt enjoyed the office’s air conditioning and his iPhone’s wonderful camera feature.
He was thinking of putting together a calendar.
So when someone mentions dropping packages off at the airport, he continues hunting for the perfect shot of Puck’s ass in those worn jeans and ignores the niggling feeling he’s forgetting something. When the rumble of a passing jet overhead breaks the silence of the office, he brushes aside the part of him that says ‘You’re missing something important.’ and gets another Diet Coke for himself and a Dr. Pepper for Puck.
It’s not until he’s flipping through the back issues of Car and Driver that a full page ad for Las Vegas finally smacks him upside the head and sends a shiver down his spine as he hears the voice from Thursday replay in his head, complete with the echoing sound effect from the movies.
I’ve just booked myself on the first flight to Cincinnati, then I’ll catch the train into Lima sometime Monday afternoon..
Kurt sits, paralyzed for a full minute, before he slowly and methodically puts the magazine back and stands, straightening his shirt and smoothing his hair before stepping outside to face the music…and literally running into Santana. Before he can even question what she’s doing here on a Sunday, at a scrapyard on the outside of town, wearing the largest pair of over-sized sunglasses since Finn and Quinn’s super-cool episode, she’s grabbing his arm and hauling him around the corner to the tire pile.
“Listen up Hummel. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’re thinking up here but let me just tell you-” She pokes Kurt in the chest and he finds himself wondering if she knows she’s not as scary outside of the Cheerio pack.
“Before I have to listen to your entire rambling threat speech, answer me this.” Kurt crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow. “Are you angry over losing Puck or Brittany?”
“Neither.” Santana snaps out, and she sighs at Kurt’s confused look of disbelief. ‘Look, Britt was fun for awhile, up for anything you could explain to her, and she’s a friend. As long as Wheelchair doesn’t leave her bawling in her Crunchberry smoothie tomorrow, he’s golden. As for Puck…”
The fight seems to die out of her and Santana rolls her eyes as she sits on a stack of all-weather radials.
“I’ve known him since we were both six. We used to take baths together, okay? The ‘with benefits’ thing just kinda happened somehow. The only reason I even dumped him is ’cause I thought we both needed to grow up a little. I mean, we’re sophomores. We can’t keep playing doctor just because he doesn’t care that I still have a stuffed Pikachu doll and I don’t care that he can recite all the dialogue to ‘The Princess Bride’ verbatim.”
Kurt uses his handkerchief to clean off the stack next to her before perching on the sun-warmed rubber. “Then why the ex from hell-on-wheels routine with Quinn?”
“Because Quinn doesn’t want Puck.” The words are spat, and Kurt almost misses what Santana says next as he realizes he may have found an ally in helping Noah. “She wants a picket fence Prince Charming to come take all her cares away. Ninety-seven percent of the time, Quinn Fabray is a sweetheart. The other three percent she’s the biggest queen bitch you’ve ever met. And I’m still not sure which one was in the driver’s seat the one time her and Puck were together.”
The dark words take a second to sink in, and Kurt’s stomach rolls unpleasantly when they do. “You think she…”
“Got knocked up to keep Finn from Rachel?” Santana finally pulls off the ridiculous glasses and rests her chin in her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t even think it matters now. A baby’s a baby. It doesn’t care how it got here or why. It’s just wants someone to love it.” They sit in silence, broken only by the sounds of men shouting across the yard and the clanging of metal.
“So you were coming to give me the hellfire speech to protect Puck?”
Santana digs her toe into the dirt, excavating a pebble with her shoe. “Puck has his own problems. He doesn’t need to take on the world for someone else right now. And whatever socks you might be stuffing those Dereon’s with, the fact that you got thrown in the dumpster almost everyday for a year and can still walk around like you own the world says no matter how pink your brain is, you’re still man enough to deal with your own shit. And maybe some of his.”
“So…” Kurt prods, and she rolls her eyes as he fishes for the acknowledgement.
“So…I guess you’re good enough. Besides,” Santana smirks evilly. “I tried to call him after practice yesterday, see if he wanted to talk or something, and somehow his phone got answered.”
Kurt feels all the blood rush to his face as he tries not to respond.
“Anybody, boy or girl, that can make Noah Puckerman want to take things slow, has something going for them.” Santana kicks the pebble away, brushing her hair back as Kurt stares at her, a glint of black enamel catching his attention.
“Interesting bracelet. Little edgy for you, though.”
“It’s Betsy Johnson. Just because I’m a Cheerio doesn’t make me a Stepford.” She covers the glittering skull charm defensively, hunching her shoulders.
“You’re working it. And just some food for thought,” Kurt leaned closer to whisper confidently. “Last time I checked, she has a Pokeball hanging from her rearview mirror.”
It’s Santana’s turn to blush and Kurt laughs at the strange way things are unfolding. The whole student body is fascinated by the Rachel/Finn/Quinn triangle, when all the real drama was going on behind the scenes.
“What was going on when I grabbed you? You looked like somebody just told you Christian Louboutin died.” Santana rebounds quickly, casting the attention back on him.
“I may have done something rash.” Kurt hesitates as he recalls his one conversation with the woman who even now might be winging her way towards them. “I might have invited Noah’s grandmother here. Tomorrow.”
Santana stares, and stares, and stares and Kurt’s about to shake her or slap her or something when she lets out an ear-splitting shriek. “Hurricane Ella!?! I haven’t seen her for years! Oh my god, does she know about you and Puck?! Does she know about the baby?! What time is she getting here?!”
“Okay, ow!” Kurt pulls her nails off of his arm and looks frantically around in case Puck heard her screeching. “No, she doesn’t know we’re dating, I don’t think. Yes, she knows about Drizzle, and she’s on the afternoon train into town. Listen, Santana.” Kurt grabs her shoulders and shakes them. “I need your help. I need you to run interference for me while I go pick her up.”
Santana’s gaze narrows and she gets a conniving glint in her eye. “On one condition. We have to bring Steve down.”
“Who the hell is Steve?” Kurt questions, before a snippet of a chat with Mercedes clicks in his brain and he hisses out the name. “Blondie.”
“Blondie.” Santana confirms. “He might actually be more annoying then Rachel. And believe me, the way he slobbers after Finn? I think even Captain Oblivious is catching on.”
“Okay. So you help me with Ella, and then we’ll turn our powers to Steve. Deal?” Kurt holds up his pinkie. Santana looks at him for half a second before squaring her shoulders and hooking her little finger through his.
“Deal.”