Questions
Author: emocezi
Title: Questions
Word count: 5841
Rating: R for language. High school boys swear alot. :\
Pairing: Puckurt in later chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I make profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: This was meant to be just a bit of a drabble, but then it exploded on me. I'll post another chapter on this when I get more inspiration, or when Glee is on again. :D Possible spoilers for 1x09 if you haven't seen the episode yet.
“Why did you blow it?” Kurt glanced up then jerked back, a timed reaction from too many slushie facials. Somehow Puck had managed to sneak up on him while he was rummaging through his locker for his biology textbook.
“What are you talking about?”
“The stupid song thing, you blew it. Why?”
“Again...what are you talking about?” Kurt raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, a slight sneer on his lips.
“I heard you practicing the other day, you hit your high...letter. So why'd you blow the contest?” Puck was relentless when it came to things he figured he needed to know. He'd thrown slushie on nerds for not answering questions before this, and Kurt really didn't feel like washing his hair in the sink again.
“It's none of your business.” Kurt seemed to put all his effort into finding his text book hoping that Puck would get the hint and leave.
“Oh come on, you looked like you were about to cry after you bombed it. Everyone knows you bombed it.” Puck sneered, watching Kurt's shoulders hunch in.
“What does it matter why I bombed it?” His voice was quiet, the pale boy took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before breathing out slowly, the tension in his shoulders releasing.
“Come on, just tell me. What was so damn important that you let Rachel get the lead...again?” Puck wheedled, leaning against the lockers and sneering at a couple of passing jocks who were making kissy faces at him.
“Noah, when I tell you something is none of your business, I mean it's none of your goddamn business.” Puck raised an eyebrow, sure the gleek refused to call him by his nickname, but that was nothing new. What was new was the almost deep tone to his voice, the hissed out profanity, the very serious look in his eye. Puck had never noticed it before, how Kurt seemed to look older then every kid at school, like he knew he was going places, and was just waiting for graduation to get the hell out of Dodge.
Kurt narrowed his eyes for good measure, glaring up at the jock before he slammed his locker and headed off to class, hoping this was the end of the discussion. It still hurt to think about, that no matter what he did, there were still people out there that refused to accept him. And in a town this size, that was about half the population, if not more.
XxX XxX
Kurt groaned as he approached his locker, Puck was standing there again, arms crossed, staring stonily across the hall at nothing.
“Go away.”
“Why did you bomb?”
“Please go away?” Kurt figured if he maybe tried the nice approach, the jock would take a hint and leave, no such luck.
“I'll make you a deal.” Puck slung his arm across Kurt's shoulders as the teen opened his locker to put away his textbooks and grab his homework. “You tell me who you bombed and I won't throw you in the dumpster tomorrow.”
Kurt shrugged off his shoulders and glared. “You stupid Neanderthal, you'll throw me in regardless.”
“What...no, you've got my word.”
“You've made me a deal like that before, and as soon as your football lunkies started catcalling me, you were the first to drag me over so you could toss me in headfirst.” Kurt sneered at the memory, it had only cemented his knowledge that high school was hell, and the only one you could depend on was yourself and a few close friends. Very few people got through Kurt's inner walls, it was a survival mechanism when you were so very different in a place like this.
“Did I...huh, I don't remember that.” Puck slung his arm across Kurt's shoulders again, trying to seem like the smaller teen could trust him, like they were buddies.
“Of course you don't remember that...STOP TOUCHING ME!!!” Puck drew back, surprised at the volume that came out of the usually quiet boy's mouth. The entire hallway went quiet and Puck experienced the feeling of hundreds of eyes watching you curiously.
Puck grit his teeth and glared at the back of Kurts head, he was so fucking done with being nice. As soon as Kurt closed his locker, Puck grabbed his arm and started to pull him out of the school, in the direction he knew where the skinny kids car was parked.
He yanked open the drivers side and all but pushed Kurt into the car, then moved quickly to the passengers side and got in.
“Why.Did.You.Bomb?”
“Why do you care?” Kurt's sneer could cut glass, cold blue eyes meeting Pucks pissed off olive ones.
“I don't care.”
“Then get out of my car.” Kurt pulled back this sleeve to peer at his upper arm. “Ugh, I'm bruising, thanks a lot.” Kurt sighed, thinking of the long sleeved shirts he'd have to start wearing to avoid the awkward questions, the worst ones being 'Somebody's bitch now Hummel?' and 'Daddy get too rough last night?'. The thought of having to explain this to his father made Kurt lean forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel and groan.
“What's wrong with you?”
“My father is going to flip his lid when he sees my arm.”
“Why?”
“I was talking to myself, not you. Get out of my car.”
“I'm not going anywhere Hummel.” Puck made a show of buckling his seat belt and making himself comfortable, only then did he notice the crowd that had started to form around the car. “Ummm, Hummel?”
“What?” Kurt looked up, realizing the same thing as Puck did and huffed out an angry sigh. “Fine.” Thin pale fingers slid the keys into the ignition and started the car, revving the engine a couple of times to get people out of the way before he moved slowly out of the parking lot, ignoring the catcalls that had become a regular part of his day.
XxX XxX
“Are you coming in or not?” Kurt shot a look over his shoulder as he opened his door. He knew Noah had been to his house many a time, usually to toilet paper the front lawn, or nail his lawn chair to his roof. It was never a good thing when the jocks were in this part of town.
“Uhh, yeah, sure.” Puck felt a little uncomfortable coming into a place that he'd defaced so many times, what if Kurt's mother was home, what about his father?
“Sit. Do you want anything?” Kurt gestured to a kitchen style bar as he hung up his coat and placed his messenger bag on the floor.
“No.” Kurt cocked his head at the one word answer, Noah Puckerman was uncomfortable in his house. That was gold.
“Fine, go sit in the living room then, it's through there.” He waved a hand, moving towards the fridge to grab a premade salad from the night before. Kurt took his time choosing a low fat dressing before he moved to join Noah in the living room.
The jock was sitting on the white leather couch, looking terrified to touch anything.
“Has your mother ever gotten an anonymous phone call about you?”
“What?” Kurt sighed, he'd forgotten what small brains these large men seemed to have. Sure they were nice to look at, but try to have an intelligent conversation with one...
“Has your mother-.”
“I heard you the first time.” Puck cut him off, snappish. “What does this have to do about my mother?”
“You wanted to know why I bombed, answer the question.” Kurt toyed with his salad, his icebitch routine running full blast.
“No, she's never gotten an anonymous phone call about me.” Puck rolled his eyes.
“Well, my father got one the day before the audition.”
“Yeah?” Puck leaned forward, now they were getting somewhere.
“Five words and then they hung up.” Kurt said simply, hating that he had to relieve the look on his fathers face the week before.
“Yeah?”
“Your son is a fag.”
“What?”
“The five words, 'your son is a fag'.” Kurt counted them off on his fingers, going back to his salad.
“That's why you bombed, cause someone called you a fag?” Puck looked confused, Kurt decided to take pity on him.
“I could care less about being called a fag. I've been called worse then that by the likes of you and your pathetic lackeys. My father on the other hand...” Kurt trailed off, deciding Puck didn't need to know everything.
“Your father.”
“You wanted to know why I bombed, I told you. Go away.” Kurt set his empty salad container on the coffee table and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He hated having to always be the strong one. He'd been taking care of his father at the same time his father had been taking care of him.
“Come on, what about your dad?”
“Noah.” Kurt's eyes flared, glaring daggers into the jock sitting across from him. “I don't know what makes you think you deserve to know anything about me. What makes you think you have the right to even talk to me after everything you've pulled.” Kurt stood, taking his empty container back to the kitchen and putting it in the dishwasher.
“I'm sorry.”
“What?”
“I'm sorry...for like...throwing you in the dumpster and junk.” Noah looked miserable, standing at the kitchen bar, running his fingers on the granite counter top and looking like he'd never started pestering Kurt in the first place.
“My father's never been the same since my mother died. How do you think he'd feel having his only son getting death threats for something he can't control. Did you choose to be Jewish?”
“You don't choose to be Jewish.” Noah scoffed.
“Well I didn't choose to be gay.” Kurt spat the word like it was rotten. “I was born this way.”
“Oh.” Puck shuffled his feet as Kurt came around the counter, pale face lit up with anger, and so many other emotions the jock couldn't begin to place them all.
“Who in their right mind would wake up one day and choose to be this way? You think I woke up in Elementary school and decided I wanted to like boys, to not be normal? You don't know a single thing about what it's like to be me. You think your life is hard? You think I want all this unbiased hatred from people who look at me and see a skinny white queer?”
Kurt's pale face was flushed, red burning high on his cheeks. He was panting, hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white with stress. “I'm a walking cliché.”
Puck stared, never having seen this side of the gleek, never having thought a side like this even existed. Kurt always seemed so put together, acting like he was better then everyone else in school, in town. To have that kind of anger simmering under the surface, it took years to cultivate, Puck knew that from experience.
“I-I'm gonna go.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, lip curling up in a mild sneer to counteract the faint sheen of tears in his eyes. “Good riddance.”
XxX XxX
True to his word Puck didn't throw Kurt in the dumpster the next day. However that, added to the way he'd drug Kurt out of school the day before was enough to get people talking. The stares and whispers were getting to the jock, though he noticed Kurt never batted an eye, even when he overheard conversations. His face stayed cool and calm, placid in the storm of emotions that Puck now knew roiled through the smaller boy.
“Couldn't stick to chick's Puck? Berry wasn't woman enough for you?”
Football practice was over, the team showering away the sweat and grime from the day. Puck wasn't expecting this, he supposed he should have, getting called out by his team members. Most of which had accepted that four of their own were now in Glee, but refusing to accept anything else.
“What are you talking about Matthews?” Finn asked, curiosity on ever curve of his face.
“Our man here is boning the faggot.”
“Fuck you Matthews.” Puck sneered, his heart pounding as the thoughts of what would happen to him if it came out that he'd been to Kurt's house. “Why the hell would I even touch that queer?”
“You were all over him yesterday. Dragging him out to his car, did you go out to the lake and neck? Get to first base with the fairy?” This one from another boy, a dangerous sneer on his face, something dark in his eyes that made the hair on the back of Puck's neck stand on end.
“He's been helping us with a few dance moves for Glee, come on you guys. What's wrong with you?” Finn's voice dropped a few notches, a bit of a reminder that this was their quarterback. “Have you forgotten that he helped us win our first game?”
“He dropped the team like we were nothing.” Blaque spoke up, sneer still on his face. “He's not one of us, wouldn't be one of us even if he'd stayed on the team.”
Puck finished his shower in silence, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. He ignored the slurred insults, or tried to. He'd never noticed before how many different terms there were for gays, and he started to wonder how Kurt managed to ignore them as well as he did.
XxX XxX
“Slush the gleek Puck, slush him or we'll toss you both in the garbage.” Blaque grinned, a slush in his hand, eyeing the pale boy who was ignoring them both and fixing his hair in his locker mirror.
Puck took the cup, ignoring the guilt creeping on him for what he was about to do. He fixed a bored look on his face and sauntered up to the gleek.
“Hummel.”
Kurt turned, one eyebrow raised, then stumbled backwards gasping at the cold that hit literally like a punch to the face.
“Ha, faggot. Looks like your boyfriend dumped your gleek ass.” Blaque stated, throwing an arm around Puck's shoulders in a congratulatory manner. Kurt wiped slush out of his eyes and sneered up at Blaque.
“Boyfriend...please. I do have a type and he is not it. Too many muscles and not enough brains.” His voice was like ice, cold and biting. The dark hate swirling in his eyes made Puck's eyebrows raise, and he could feel Blaque's muscles tensing.
“Think you're better then us Hummel?”
“Please, there's fact and speculation. Me better then you, that's fact.”
“We'll see you after school Hummel. There's a fact.”
XxX XxX
“What happened to you?” Kurt's father asked, eyebrow raising at the sauce in his hair, bits of old lasagna sticking to his jacket and pants.
“Dumpster.”
“Don't they usually do that before school?” There was an undertone in his father's voice that Kurt knew well. Temper was on the boil, and it boiled low and long until it erupted on whoever was unlucky enough to nudge the lid.
“Usually.” Kurt sighed, looking at the stains on his jacket, knowing that even with dry cleaning the tomato would never come out.
“You need me to do...anything?”
“It's fine dad. I'm gonna go shower. Thanks anyway.” Kurt sent a wan smile as he headed down to his room.
XxX XxX
“Okay, so we egg the house, TP the trees and koolaid the swimming pool.” Matthews said, looking at his posse. Puck, Blaque and Michaelson were in the car with him, they parked on the opposite side of the street, looking over at the Hummel's house.
“I'll take the pool.” Michaelson spoke up, tucking different flavors of the juice mix into his coat pockets.
“Blaque, you're with me on TP.” Matthews high-fived his brother in arms, which left Puck with two cartons of eggs that had long gone bad just for this task.
The four jocks crept out of the car, careful not to make too much noise and alert anyone. They stepped on the lawn, Michaelson moving around to the backyard to dump koolaid into the pool. Puck opened a carton of eggs as Matthews and Blaque started tossing the toilet paper back and forth over the oak trees in the front of the house.
“I'm gonna count to three, and if you boys ain't off my property. I'm letting Hades off his leash.” There was a low deadly growl that stopped the jocks in their tracks. The porch light turned on to reveal Mr. Hummel standing on his porch, a loaded shotgun in one hand, the other holding the leash to a black and tan Doberman, shoulders coming up to mid thigh. It took a step forward, muscles rippling under sleek fur.
“Shit.” Matthews whispered, standing frozen, never having considered this possibility.
“One.” They say the sound of a shotgun being cocked is one of the most terrifying sounds you can ever hear in your life.
“Two.” Hades began to growl, hackles rising as Mr. Hummel let a bit of the leash slip from his grasp. The dog took another step forward, letting out one low bark that seemed to break the hold on the boys. They scrambled backwards, dropping everything they were holding and making a break for the car.
“YOU...WITH THE MOHAWK. COME'ER.” Puck stopped dead, wishing he'd worn a hat, anything to keep from being recognized.
“Shit man....shit.” Michaelson came barreling around the side of the house, he raced across the street and dove into the open back seat. Matthews met Puck's eyes for a moment before he slammed the drivers side door and pealed down the street, leaving Puck alone with Mr. Hummel.
“You, you're one of them jocks that picks on my boy.” Mr. Hummel took a step forward, Hades pulling forward on his leash, dangerous growls sounding deep in his chest the closer he got to Puck who was waiting at the curb. “Well...speak up boy, I don't have all night.”
“I...uh...yes...I guess.”
“You guess? Did you or did you not throw my boy into the dumpster after school?”
“I...I helped.” Puck was terrified, he'd never dealt with anyone like Kurt's father, and he had to wonder for a moment why the gleek hadn't gotten more testosterone out of the mix.
“You have any idea what it's like when he gets his clothes ruined? He sulks for weeks. I oughta-”
“Dad, stop it.” The front door slammed open, revealing Kurt in an overly large white cotton T and slim blue pajama pants. “I already told you I don't care if they throw me in the dumpster twice a day. And why did you wake up Hades? It takes him forever to get back to sleep after he's riled up like this.”
Kurt stepped off the porch, smooth graceful steps bringing him up to Puck and his father. He held out a hand, and Puck was surprised when Mr. Hummel passed the leash over without complaint. Kurt snapped his fingers and pointed and the large Doberman instantly sat, tongue hanging out as Kurt patted his head and looked at both men.
“I do not have time for this.” With that said he turned and walked back into the house, Hades at his heels. Kurt stopped at the door and shot one last fulminating look over his shoulder, leaving his father and the jock staring after him.
“Dammit.” Mr. Hummel sighed, shoulders hunching inwards.
“Is he...always like that?” Puck asked cautiously, not sure how to act. Mr. Hummel snorted, a small grin playing across his mouth.
“Just like his mother. Even looks like her.” Puck blinked at the sorrow beneath the words. “I guess I'll drive you home then.”
“Uh, no. I'll walk.” Puck could just imagine his mothers face when she found out what he'd been doing. He'd get another lecture about how the queers had been burned in Auschwitz along with the Jews, and how they should get along. Hate the sin, not the sinner and all that BS she loved to spout.
“Kid, I ain't letting you walk halfway across town in the dark, get in the truck.” Puck sighed, it wasn't polite to argue against a man with a gun.
XxX XxX
“Man, what happened?” Blaque asked the next day, eyes narrowed at Puck's unmarred features.
“Nothing, scared the shit outta me and then drove me home.”
“That's it?”
“Yeah that's it. What, you really think he'd actually shoot me?”
“No.” Blaque scoffed. “But that dog looked mean as fuck.”
XxX XxX
“Hey faggot.”
“Queer.”
“Nice mouth cocksucker.”
Kurt didn't bat an eye. He'd been dealing with this for far too long to take it personally anymore. In Jr. High he'd cried himself to sleep most night, dealing with his short stature and his voice never breaking. It was as if nature wanted him to be a girl, it just gave him the wrong equipment.
But he'd learned to fake his confidence, to hide his fears, to never show them that their stupid comments hurt worse then pinches, kicks to the shin, or even badly placed punches to the lower back. It was hard, never having anyone to talk to, no one understood what he was going through, and the terror of his father finding out kept him pretending to be a lie.
“Hummel.” Noah's voice, and Kurt ignored him, digging into his locker to avoid another slush to the face.
“Fuck off.” He muttered, just wanting the day to be over. Third period Bio was next, then Spanish after that. Spanish was easy, all the trips to Mexico in the winter with his father gave him an advantage over the other kids in Ohio.
“What was that queer? You want to fuck?” Kurt rolled his eyes, of course Noah would never come to his locker alone.
“Kurt, come on, we're gonna be late.” Mercedes was at his right side in moments, glaring daggers at the two jocks who seemed to back down. The pale boy shut his locker with a definite click before turning to walk with his best friend. She immediately started talking about needing more hip hop in Glee, and Kurt nodded absently along with her.
XxX XxX
“Dumpster again?”
“Yeah dad, dumpster again.”
“Maybe you should wear your coveralls to school if they're gonna keep ruining so many clothes.”
“I'm not letting them win. I wear coveralls and it lets them know that I'm expecting to get thrown in the dumpster.” Kurt snapped acidly as he pulled ingredients for dinner out of the fridge.
“I'm just saying it would save on your dry cleaning bills.” My. Hummel sighed. “I wish your mother was here.”
“Well she's not. And even if she was, it's not like anything would change.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Kurt wordlessly found himself wrapped up in a hug. The smell of oil, gas, and Old Spice enveloped him like a blanket.
“I'm so bad at this. I feel like I'm failing you every day. I just don't know what to do, and it feels like you've grown up without me noticing.”
“It's okay Dad. You're not supposed to notice me growing up.”
“That's bullshit, I've been so wrapped up in myself, my own problems that I never stopped to think about how everything's affecting you.”
“Dad, I'm fine. I promise I'm fine, and I promise that I'll come to you if this gets worse.”
“Okay.” Kurt squeezed, smiling as his father squeezed back, holding him tight for a few seconds before letting go. “What are we having?”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
“With those little pearl onions?”
“Yeah, go watch 'Deadliest Catch' and I'll call you when it's ready.”
XxX XxX
Things stayed the same, Kurt getting thrown in the dumpster twice a day, but refusing to bitch about it. Complaining only showed them they were getting to you, and that just wasn't acceptable.
Sometimes Finn would intercept them, but more often then not he was caught up in the drama with Quinn. Other times one of the teachers would catch the jocks after school and Kurt would be saved for a day. The day Kurt would always remember was the day Ms. Sylvester rounded the corner just as he was getting tossed into the dumpster.
He'd always thought she didn't notice him, only thought of him as 'The Gay Kid' as she'd referred to him that one horrible time in Glee when they'd been split up to work on different songs. But the dressing down she's given to the jocks, making one boy actually break down into tears as she'd drug him out of the garbage had made him smile for weeks afterwards.
Then one day something changed. He'd begun parking his car in the teachers lot after getting his father to talk to Mr. Figgens. He'd had the tires slashed and one of the rear windows smashed in before the principal had agreed in fear of being sued by someone who had enough money to hire the proper lawyers.
The jocks were waiting for him in the lot, nearly all of them, all wearing identical smirks that chilled Kurt's blood to the bone.
“Lets go for a ride Hummel.” Blaque said, with a leer that turned Kurts stomach.
“Let you into my baby, I think not.” His hands were clammy and he nearly dropped his phone when he fumbled his fathers number on the speed dial.
“Into the car Hummel.” Blaque said again.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.” He took a step backwards, phone clenched tightly in his fist, slipping the messenger bag off his shoulder. It was always harder to run with it on.
“Into the car Hummel.” Matthews growled, Michaelson took a step forward and Kurt was off like a shot. The boys on the football team might have gone to training every day, but a dancers body was much lighter. Kurt's leg muscles had been built up over years of dancing, and his lungs were clear from years of holding long notes in singing practice. It made for a deadly combination, the small boy darting around obstacles as he tried desperately to make it back to the school where someone would be there to help.
He could hear the pounding of footsteps behind him, and adrenaline gave him an extra boost of speed. He rounded the corner of the building and darted inside the open gymnasium door. The door was open on the other end and Kurt ran, the curses and catcalls bouncing off the gym walls. He was sure at any moment they would catch him, tackle him and break every bone in his body. Maybe they'd kill him for running, maybe something worse then death.
“What the HELL is going on here?” Coach Tanaka's voice broke out across the gym, the football team stopping in their tracks.
“Uh.....” Matthews watched the pale boy leave through the doors on the opposite side of the gym, now in the school. “Practice?”
“If I even HEAR of practice like this again...” Tanaka let his threat die away, heart in his throat as he thought about what would have happened to his job if the football players had caught the music queer. Mr. Hummel might have worked in a garage, but he was one of the richest men in the town, not someone you wanted to make an enemy of. He'd nearly sued the school a dozen times on behalf of his son.
XxX XxX
Puck sighed, heading back into the school. He'd forgotten his guitar in the music room again and after the last lecture he'd been given on taking better care of his things that had somehow managed to turn into a rant on why the Jews were a persecuted people, he wasn't taking any chances.
He kicked open the door, jumping at the startled squeak from inside the room. What the hell, did the school have rat problems again? It was awesome to miss a week while the school was being fumigated, but that was also a week of listening to his mother bitch about his education going down the drain and all their taxes going to waste on some big fatcat who wasn't even Jewish.
“Who's in here?”
“Go away.” Puck blinked at the high pitched voice.
“Hummel?”
“GO AWAY!” That nearly sounded like a sob. Anything resembling tears usually had Puck heading as far away as he could get, but this was a little different. He'd never seen the pale boy shed a single tear in the ten years they'd gone to school together.
“What the hell's the matter with you? Someone ruin your hair?” Puck stepped into the room and stopped, the kid was white..well whiter then normal. His eyes were huge, pupils blurred out, and he was shaking. Hands clenching and unclenching on his arms, fingernails digging in and leaving red welts on his snow white skin.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Puck was halfway across the room before he realized he'd even moved.
“I'm fine, just-just stay over there.” The shaking got worse as Mr. Hummels voice could be heard echoing down the hall in a shouting match with the football coach. “I-I havta...my dad.” Kurt tried to push himself up, but he was shaking too badly to manage, simply flopping back onto the floor.
Puck came closer, intent on helping the gleek up from the floor. Kurt shrunk against the wall the closer her got, and when Puck grabbed his arm he jolted, a small sound of terror escaping his lips.
“Don't touch me. Just...get my dad. Please.” Puck stared, not sure how to deal with something like this, Kurt's arm had felt cold to the touch. He nodded after a couple of moments and gone into the hallway.
“Hey, Mr. Hummel. Kurt's in the music room, he's...I think he's in shock.”
“You would know.” The snarl from the older man had Puck gaping as Mr. Hummel pushed past him.
“I-I didn't do anything. I wasn't even there.”
“I don't care where you were. This is the last time anything like this happens.”
Puck followed Mr. Hummel into the music room, watching as Kurt's father wrapped him up in his jacket, half carrying him out of the music room and then out of the school. They passed Coach Tanaka again on the way out.
“Mr. Hummel, I'm sorry something like this happened-”
“Save it. You, mohawk.”
“It's Pu-ah Noah...sir.”
“Noah, take Kurt's car back to the house.” Puck nodded, catching the keys Mr. Hummel threw at him.
“Sure.”
XxX XxX
Getting Kurt home was easy, making him take a hot shower, drink a cup of soup and tucking him in with a cup of hot chocolate and season four of Supernatural and Hades at the foot of his bed was something Mr. Hummel did without complaint. He'd missed this part of being a father, didn't know how to let Kurt know that hugs were something he could have on a daily basis.
The mohawk kid, Noah was in the kitchen, having dropped off Kurt's car and bag, and then been made to stay for supper as a thank you.
“He okay?”
“He'll be fine.”
“Did...he tell you what happened?”
“Yeah.” Puck nodded, seeing that Kurt's father wasn't about to elaborate on the situation. It had to be something bad though, the way Kurt had reacted to him in the music room.
“I'm gonna get going.” Mr. Hummel nodded, seeming a little distracted, not that Puck could blame him. He thought about the tiny girl growing inside Quinn, thought about how he would feel. Anger began to build up as he imagined that tiny little baby shaking like Kurt had been, eyes big and shining with tears.
“Dammit.” Puck didn't realize he'd spoken until Mr. Hummel raised an eyebrow at him. “What the hell happened to him? I'd be so pissed if that happened to my kid.”
“As much as it would help, I can't go around punching kids. Even if they deserve it.” There was a dry humor to Mr. Hummels voice that had some of the Pucks anger dissipating.
“So?”
“They were waiting at his car, told him to get it. He dialed my number and then ran. All I could hear was him saying he wasn't going anywhere with anyone and then one of them telling him to 'Get in the car Hummel'.” Puck looked down at his empty soup cup, wondering what had made his teammates go after Kurt like that.
“You know anything about this kid?”
“No. If I did I would have stopped them.”
“Like you've stopped them so many times before?” There was a sneer in the words, one that was meant the way it sounded.
“Look, throwing a kid in the dumpster is one thing, but they were gonna do is something I'd never take part in?”
“You sound like you know what they were planning.” Curiosity, and something darker and far more dangerous.
“It doesn't happen often, last time it did we were in grade six, but I remember my mother talking about how dangerous kids were getting, and what a shame about that poor boy.”
“Stephen Glish.”
“Yeah.” Puck edged back at the growl erupting from Mr. Hummels throat.
“They were gonna throw my boy off the bridge?”
“And you call me a drama queen.” Both men turned to see Kurt standing at the stairs, Hades pressing up against his thigh.
“You should be in bed.” Puck blurted out before he could help himself.
“I'm fine.” Kurt turned to his father. “And before you say it, yes, I am going to school tomorrow.”
“You are not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Kurt, you need to drop this crap about letting them win. They could have killed you.”
“But they didn't.”
“Kurt. I already lost your mother, I don't think I could handle losing you.” Puck kept glancing back and forth. Kurt's face had gone from tight with anger to soft with an emotion that Puck couldn't place. It was sorrow and love and grief and grace all mixed together. And Puck wonders what it would be like to have that look aimed at him, but not by Kurt obviously. That would just be weird.
And then just for a second he thinks about getting that look from Kurt and he feels warm all over. And while father and son are still arguing over whether Kurt's going to school tomorrow, Puck slips out the door, knowing his mother is gonna worry about him once this gets out.
XxX XxX
To be continued...
Next
Title: Questions
Word count: 5841
Rating: R for language. High school boys swear alot. :\
Pairing: Puckurt in later chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I make profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: This was meant to be just a bit of a drabble, but then it exploded on me. I'll post another chapter on this when I get more inspiration, or when Glee is on again. :D Possible spoilers for 1x09 if you haven't seen the episode yet.
“Why did you blow it?” Kurt glanced up then jerked back, a timed reaction from too many slushie facials. Somehow Puck had managed to sneak up on him while he was rummaging through his locker for his biology textbook.
“What are you talking about?”
“The stupid song thing, you blew it. Why?”
“Again...what are you talking about?” Kurt raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, a slight sneer on his lips.
“I heard you practicing the other day, you hit your high...letter. So why'd you blow the contest?” Puck was relentless when it came to things he figured he needed to know. He'd thrown slushie on nerds for not answering questions before this, and Kurt really didn't feel like washing his hair in the sink again.
“It's none of your business.” Kurt seemed to put all his effort into finding his text book hoping that Puck would get the hint and leave.
“Oh come on, you looked like you were about to cry after you bombed it. Everyone knows you bombed it.” Puck sneered, watching Kurt's shoulders hunch in.
“What does it matter why I bombed it?” His voice was quiet, the pale boy took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before breathing out slowly, the tension in his shoulders releasing.
“Come on, just tell me. What was so damn important that you let Rachel get the lead...again?” Puck wheedled, leaning against the lockers and sneering at a couple of passing jocks who were making kissy faces at him.
“Noah, when I tell you something is none of your business, I mean it's none of your goddamn business.” Puck raised an eyebrow, sure the gleek refused to call him by his nickname, but that was nothing new. What was new was the almost deep tone to his voice, the hissed out profanity, the very serious look in his eye. Puck had never noticed it before, how Kurt seemed to look older then every kid at school, like he knew he was going places, and was just waiting for graduation to get the hell out of Dodge.
Kurt narrowed his eyes for good measure, glaring up at the jock before he slammed his locker and headed off to class, hoping this was the end of the discussion. It still hurt to think about, that no matter what he did, there were still people out there that refused to accept him. And in a town this size, that was about half the population, if not more.
XxX XxX
Kurt groaned as he approached his locker, Puck was standing there again, arms crossed, staring stonily across the hall at nothing.
“Go away.”
“Why did you bomb?”
“Please go away?” Kurt figured if he maybe tried the nice approach, the jock would take a hint and leave, no such luck.
“I'll make you a deal.” Puck slung his arm across Kurt's shoulders as the teen opened his locker to put away his textbooks and grab his homework. “You tell me who you bombed and I won't throw you in the dumpster tomorrow.”
Kurt shrugged off his shoulders and glared. “You stupid Neanderthal, you'll throw me in regardless.”
“What...no, you've got my word.”
“You've made me a deal like that before, and as soon as your football lunkies started catcalling me, you were the first to drag me over so you could toss me in headfirst.” Kurt sneered at the memory, it had only cemented his knowledge that high school was hell, and the only one you could depend on was yourself and a few close friends. Very few people got through Kurt's inner walls, it was a survival mechanism when you were so very different in a place like this.
“Did I...huh, I don't remember that.” Puck slung his arm across Kurt's shoulders again, trying to seem like the smaller teen could trust him, like they were buddies.
“Of course you don't remember that...STOP TOUCHING ME!!!” Puck drew back, surprised at the volume that came out of the usually quiet boy's mouth. The entire hallway went quiet and Puck experienced the feeling of hundreds of eyes watching you curiously.
Puck grit his teeth and glared at the back of Kurts head, he was so fucking done with being nice. As soon as Kurt closed his locker, Puck grabbed his arm and started to pull him out of the school, in the direction he knew where the skinny kids car was parked.
He yanked open the drivers side and all but pushed Kurt into the car, then moved quickly to the passengers side and got in.
“Why.Did.You.Bomb?”
“Why do you care?” Kurt's sneer could cut glass, cold blue eyes meeting Pucks pissed off olive ones.
“I don't care.”
“Then get out of my car.” Kurt pulled back this sleeve to peer at his upper arm. “Ugh, I'm bruising, thanks a lot.” Kurt sighed, thinking of the long sleeved shirts he'd have to start wearing to avoid the awkward questions, the worst ones being 'Somebody's bitch now Hummel?' and 'Daddy get too rough last night?'. The thought of having to explain this to his father made Kurt lean forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel and groan.
“What's wrong with you?”
“My father is going to flip his lid when he sees my arm.”
“Why?”
“I was talking to myself, not you. Get out of my car.”
“I'm not going anywhere Hummel.” Puck made a show of buckling his seat belt and making himself comfortable, only then did he notice the crowd that had started to form around the car. “Ummm, Hummel?”
“What?” Kurt looked up, realizing the same thing as Puck did and huffed out an angry sigh. “Fine.” Thin pale fingers slid the keys into the ignition and started the car, revving the engine a couple of times to get people out of the way before he moved slowly out of the parking lot, ignoring the catcalls that had become a regular part of his day.
XxX XxX
“Are you coming in or not?” Kurt shot a look over his shoulder as he opened his door. He knew Noah had been to his house many a time, usually to toilet paper the front lawn, or nail his lawn chair to his roof. It was never a good thing when the jocks were in this part of town.
“Uhh, yeah, sure.” Puck felt a little uncomfortable coming into a place that he'd defaced so many times, what if Kurt's mother was home, what about his father?
“Sit. Do you want anything?” Kurt gestured to a kitchen style bar as he hung up his coat and placed his messenger bag on the floor.
“No.” Kurt cocked his head at the one word answer, Noah Puckerman was uncomfortable in his house. That was gold.
“Fine, go sit in the living room then, it's through there.” He waved a hand, moving towards the fridge to grab a premade salad from the night before. Kurt took his time choosing a low fat dressing before he moved to join Noah in the living room.
The jock was sitting on the white leather couch, looking terrified to touch anything.
“Has your mother ever gotten an anonymous phone call about you?”
“What?” Kurt sighed, he'd forgotten what small brains these large men seemed to have. Sure they were nice to look at, but try to have an intelligent conversation with one...
“Has your mother-.”
“I heard you the first time.” Puck cut him off, snappish. “What does this have to do about my mother?”
“You wanted to know why I bombed, answer the question.” Kurt toyed with his salad, his icebitch routine running full blast.
“No, she's never gotten an anonymous phone call about me.” Puck rolled his eyes.
“Well, my father got one the day before the audition.”
“Yeah?” Puck leaned forward, now they were getting somewhere.
“Five words and then they hung up.” Kurt said simply, hating that he had to relieve the look on his fathers face the week before.
“Yeah?”
“Your son is a fag.”
“What?”
“The five words, 'your son is a fag'.” Kurt counted them off on his fingers, going back to his salad.
“That's why you bombed, cause someone called you a fag?” Puck looked confused, Kurt decided to take pity on him.
“I could care less about being called a fag. I've been called worse then that by the likes of you and your pathetic lackeys. My father on the other hand...” Kurt trailed off, deciding Puck didn't need to know everything.
“Your father.”
“You wanted to know why I bombed, I told you. Go away.” Kurt set his empty salad container on the coffee table and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He hated having to always be the strong one. He'd been taking care of his father at the same time his father had been taking care of him.
“Come on, what about your dad?”
“Noah.” Kurt's eyes flared, glaring daggers into the jock sitting across from him. “I don't know what makes you think you deserve to know anything about me. What makes you think you have the right to even talk to me after everything you've pulled.” Kurt stood, taking his empty container back to the kitchen and putting it in the dishwasher.
“I'm sorry.”
“What?”
“I'm sorry...for like...throwing you in the dumpster and junk.” Noah looked miserable, standing at the kitchen bar, running his fingers on the granite counter top and looking like he'd never started pestering Kurt in the first place.
“My father's never been the same since my mother died. How do you think he'd feel having his only son getting death threats for something he can't control. Did you choose to be Jewish?”
“You don't choose to be Jewish.” Noah scoffed.
“Well I didn't choose to be gay.” Kurt spat the word like it was rotten. “I was born this way.”
“Oh.” Puck shuffled his feet as Kurt came around the counter, pale face lit up with anger, and so many other emotions the jock couldn't begin to place them all.
“Who in their right mind would wake up one day and choose to be this way? You think I woke up in Elementary school and decided I wanted to like boys, to not be normal? You don't know a single thing about what it's like to be me. You think your life is hard? You think I want all this unbiased hatred from people who look at me and see a skinny white queer?”
Kurt's pale face was flushed, red burning high on his cheeks. He was panting, hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white with stress. “I'm a walking cliché.”
Puck stared, never having seen this side of the gleek, never having thought a side like this even existed. Kurt always seemed so put together, acting like he was better then everyone else in school, in town. To have that kind of anger simmering under the surface, it took years to cultivate, Puck knew that from experience.
“I-I'm gonna go.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, lip curling up in a mild sneer to counteract the faint sheen of tears in his eyes. “Good riddance.”
XxX XxX
True to his word Puck didn't throw Kurt in the dumpster the next day. However that, added to the way he'd drug Kurt out of school the day before was enough to get people talking. The stares and whispers were getting to the jock, though he noticed Kurt never batted an eye, even when he overheard conversations. His face stayed cool and calm, placid in the storm of emotions that Puck now knew roiled through the smaller boy.
“Couldn't stick to chick's Puck? Berry wasn't woman enough for you?”
Football practice was over, the team showering away the sweat and grime from the day. Puck wasn't expecting this, he supposed he should have, getting called out by his team members. Most of which had accepted that four of their own were now in Glee, but refusing to accept anything else.
“What are you talking about Matthews?” Finn asked, curiosity on ever curve of his face.
“Our man here is boning the faggot.”
“Fuck you Matthews.” Puck sneered, his heart pounding as the thoughts of what would happen to him if it came out that he'd been to Kurt's house. “Why the hell would I even touch that queer?”
“You were all over him yesterday. Dragging him out to his car, did you go out to the lake and neck? Get to first base with the fairy?” This one from another boy, a dangerous sneer on his face, something dark in his eyes that made the hair on the back of Puck's neck stand on end.
“He's been helping us with a few dance moves for Glee, come on you guys. What's wrong with you?” Finn's voice dropped a few notches, a bit of a reminder that this was their quarterback. “Have you forgotten that he helped us win our first game?”
“He dropped the team like we were nothing.” Blaque spoke up, sneer still on his face. “He's not one of us, wouldn't be one of us even if he'd stayed on the team.”
Puck finished his shower in silence, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. He ignored the slurred insults, or tried to. He'd never noticed before how many different terms there were for gays, and he started to wonder how Kurt managed to ignore them as well as he did.
XxX XxX
“Slush the gleek Puck, slush him or we'll toss you both in the garbage.” Blaque grinned, a slush in his hand, eyeing the pale boy who was ignoring them both and fixing his hair in his locker mirror.
Puck took the cup, ignoring the guilt creeping on him for what he was about to do. He fixed a bored look on his face and sauntered up to the gleek.
“Hummel.”
Kurt turned, one eyebrow raised, then stumbled backwards gasping at the cold that hit literally like a punch to the face.
“Ha, faggot. Looks like your boyfriend dumped your gleek ass.” Blaque stated, throwing an arm around Puck's shoulders in a congratulatory manner. Kurt wiped slush out of his eyes and sneered up at Blaque.
“Boyfriend...please. I do have a type and he is not it. Too many muscles and not enough brains.” His voice was like ice, cold and biting. The dark hate swirling in his eyes made Puck's eyebrows raise, and he could feel Blaque's muscles tensing.
“Think you're better then us Hummel?”
“Please, there's fact and speculation. Me better then you, that's fact.”
“We'll see you after school Hummel. There's a fact.”
XxX XxX
“What happened to you?” Kurt's father asked, eyebrow raising at the sauce in his hair, bits of old lasagna sticking to his jacket and pants.
“Dumpster.”
“Don't they usually do that before school?” There was an undertone in his father's voice that Kurt knew well. Temper was on the boil, and it boiled low and long until it erupted on whoever was unlucky enough to nudge the lid.
“Usually.” Kurt sighed, looking at the stains on his jacket, knowing that even with dry cleaning the tomato would never come out.
“You need me to do...anything?”
“It's fine dad. I'm gonna go shower. Thanks anyway.” Kurt sent a wan smile as he headed down to his room.
XxX XxX
“Okay, so we egg the house, TP the trees and koolaid the swimming pool.” Matthews said, looking at his posse. Puck, Blaque and Michaelson were in the car with him, they parked on the opposite side of the street, looking over at the Hummel's house.
“I'll take the pool.” Michaelson spoke up, tucking different flavors of the juice mix into his coat pockets.
“Blaque, you're with me on TP.” Matthews high-fived his brother in arms, which left Puck with two cartons of eggs that had long gone bad just for this task.
The four jocks crept out of the car, careful not to make too much noise and alert anyone. They stepped on the lawn, Michaelson moving around to the backyard to dump koolaid into the pool. Puck opened a carton of eggs as Matthews and Blaque started tossing the toilet paper back and forth over the oak trees in the front of the house.
“I'm gonna count to three, and if you boys ain't off my property. I'm letting Hades off his leash.” There was a low deadly growl that stopped the jocks in their tracks. The porch light turned on to reveal Mr. Hummel standing on his porch, a loaded shotgun in one hand, the other holding the leash to a black and tan Doberman, shoulders coming up to mid thigh. It took a step forward, muscles rippling under sleek fur.
“Shit.” Matthews whispered, standing frozen, never having considered this possibility.
“One.” They say the sound of a shotgun being cocked is one of the most terrifying sounds you can ever hear in your life.
“Two.” Hades began to growl, hackles rising as Mr. Hummel let a bit of the leash slip from his grasp. The dog took another step forward, letting out one low bark that seemed to break the hold on the boys. They scrambled backwards, dropping everything they were holding and making a break for the car.
“YOU...WITH THE MOHAWK. COME'ER.” Puck stopped dead, wishing he'd worn a hat, anything to keep from being recognized.
“Shit man....shit.” Michaelson came barreling around the side of the house, he raced across the street and dove into the open back seat. Matthews met Puck's eyes for a moment before he slammed the drivers side door and pealed down the street, leaving Puck alone with Mr. Hummel.
“You, you're one of them jocks that picks on my boy.” Mr. Hummel took a step forward, Hades pulling forward on his leash, dangerous growls sounding deep in his chest the closer he got to Puck who was waiting at the curb. “Well...speak up boy, I don't have all night.”
“I...uh...yes...I guess.”
“You guess? Did you or did you not throw my boy into the dumpster after school?”
“I...I helped.” Puck was terrified, he'd never dealt with anyone like Kurt's father, and he had to wonder for a moment why the gleek hadn't gotten more testosterone out of the mix.
“You have any idea what it's like when he gets his clothes ruined? He sulks for weeks. I oughta-”
“Dad, stop it.” The front door slammed open, revealing Kurt in an overly large white cotton T and slim blue pajama pants. “I already told you I don't care if they throw me in the dumpster twice a day. And why did you wake up Hades? It takes him forever to get back to sleep after he's riled up like this.”
Kurt stepped off the porch, smooth graceful steps bringing him up to Puck and his father. He held out a hand, and Puck was surprised when Mr. Hummel passed the leash over without complaint. Kurt snapped his fingers and pointed and the large Doberman instantly sat, tongue hanging out as Kurt patted his head and looked at both men.
“I do not have time for this.” With that said he turned and walked back into the house, Hades at his heels. Kurt stopped at the door and shot one last fulminating look over his shoulder, leaving his father and the jock staring after him.
“Dammit.” Mr. Hummel sighed, shoulders hunching inwards.
“Is he...always like that?” Puck asked cautiously, not sure how to act. Mr. Hummel snorted, a small grin playing across his mouth.
“Just like his mother. Even looks like her.” Puck blinked at the sorrow beneath the words. “I guess I'll drive you home then.”
“Uh, no. I'll walk.” Puck could just imagine his mothers face when she found out what he'd been doing. He'd get another lecture about how the queers had been burned in Auschwitz along with the Jews, and how they should get along. Hate the sin, not the sinner and all that BS she loved to spout.
“Kid, I ain't letting you walk halfway across town in the dark, get in the truck.” Puck sighed, it wasn't polite to argue against a man with a gun.
XxX XxX
“Man, what happened?” Blaque asked the next day, eyes narrowed at Puck's unmarred features.
“Nothing, scared the shit outta me and then drove me home.”
“That's it?”
“Yeah that's it. What, you really think he'd actually shoot me?”
“No.” Blaque scoffed. “But that dog looked mean as fuck.”
XxX XxX
“Hey faggot.”
“Queer.”
“Nice mouth cocksucker.”
Kurt didn't bat an eye. He'd been dealing with this for far too long to take it personally anymore. In Jr. High he'd cried himself to sleep most night, dealing with his short stature and his voice never breaking. It was as if nature wanted him to be a girl, it just gave him the wrong equipment.
But he'd learned to fake his confidence, to hide his fears, to never show them that their stupid comments hurt worse then pinches, kicks to the shin, or even badly placed punches to the lower back. It was hard, never having anyone to talk to, no one understood what he was going through, and the terror of his father finding out kept him pretending to be a lie.
“Hummel.” Noah's voice, and Kurt ignored him, digging into his locker to avoid another slush to the face.
“Fuck off.” He muttered, just wanting the day to be over. Third period Bio was next, then Spanish after that. Spanish was easy, all the trips to Mexico in the winter with his father gave him an advantage over the other kids in Ohio.
“What was that queer? You want to fuck?” Kurt rolled his eyes, of course Noah would never come to his locker alone.
“Kurt, come on, we're gonna be late.” Mercedes was at his right side in moments, glaring daggers at the two jocks who seemed to back down. The pale boy shut his locker with a definite click before turning to walk with his best friend. She immediately started talking about needing more hip hop in Glee, and Kurt nodded absently along with her.
XxX XxX
“Dumpster again?”
“Yeah dad, dumpster again.”
“Maybe you should wear your coveralls to school if they're gonna keep ruining so many clothes.”
“I'm not letting them win. I wear coveralls and it lets them know that I'm expecting to get thrown in the dumpster.” Kurt snapped acidly as he pulled ingredients for dinner out of the fridge.
“I'm just saying it would save on your dry cleaning bills.” My. Hummel sighed. “I wish your mother was here.”
“Well she's not. And even if she was, it's not like anything would change.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Kurt wordlessly found himself wrapped up in a hug. The smell of oil, gas, and Old Spice enveloped him like a blanket.
“I'm so bad at this. I feel like I'm failing you every day. I just don't know what to do, and it feels like you've grown up without me noticing.”
“It's okay Dad. You're not supposed to notice me growing up.”
“That's bullshit, I've been so wrapped up in myself, my own problems that I never stopped to think about how everything's affecting you.”
“Dad, I'm fine. I promise I'm fine, and I promise that I'll come to you if this gets worse.”
“Okay.” Kurt squeezed, smiling as his father squeezed back, holding him tight for a few seconds before letting go. “What are we having?”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
“With those little pearl onions?”
“Yeah, go watch 'Deadliest Catch' and I'll call you when it's ready.”
XxX XxX
Things stayed the same, Kurt getting thrown in the dumpster twice a day, but refusing to bitch about it. Complaining only showed them they were getting to you, and that just wasn't acceptable.
Sometimes Finn would intercept them, but more often then not he was caught up in the drama with Quinn. Other times one of the teachers would catch the jocks after school and Kurt would be saved for a day. The day Kurt would always remember was the day Ms. Sylvester rounded the corner just as he was getting tossed into the dumpster.
He'd always thought she didn't notice him, only thought of him as 'The Gay Kid' as she'd referred to him that one horrible time in Glee when they'd been split up to work on different songs. But the dressing down she's given to the jocks, making one boy actually break down into tears as she'd drug him out of the garbage had made him smile for weeks afterwards.
Then one day something changed. He'd begun parking his car in the teachers lot after getting his father to talk to Mr. Figgens. He'd had the tires slashed and one of the rear windows smashed in before the principal had agreed in fear of being sued by someone who had enough money to hire the proper lawyers.
The jocks were waiting for him in the lot, nearly all of them, all wearing identical smirks that chilled Kurt's blood to the bone.
“Lets go for a ride Hummel.” Blaque said, with a leer that turned Kurts stomach.
“Let you into my baby, I think not.” His hands were clammy and he nearly dropped his phone when he fumbled his fathers number on the speed dial.
“Into the car Hummel.” Blaque said again.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.” He took a step backwards, phone clenched tightly in his fist, slipping the messenger bag off his shoulder. It was always harder to run with it on.
“Into the car Hummel.” Matthews growled, Michaelson took a step forward and Kurt was off like a shot. The boys on the football team might have gone to training every day, but a dancers body was much lighter. Kurt's leg muscles had been built up over years of dancing, and his lungs were clear from years of holding long notes in singing practice. It made for a deadly combination, the small boy darting around obstacles as he tried desperately to make it back to the school where someone would be there to help.
He could hear the pounding of footsteps behind him, and adrenaline gave him an extra boost of speed. He rounded the corner of the building and darted inside the open gymnasium door. The door was open on the other end and Kurt ran, the curses and catcalls bouncing off the gym walls. He was sure at any moment they would catch him, tackle him and break every bone in his body. Maybe they'd kill him for running, maybe something worse then death.
“What the HELL is going on here?” Coach Tanaka's voice broke out across the gym, the football team stopping in their tracks.
“Uh.....” Matthews watched the pale boy leave through the doors on the opposite side of the gym, now in the school. “Practice?”
“If I even HEAR of practice like this again...” Tanaka let his threat die away, heart in his throat as he thought about what would have happened to his job if the football players had caught the music queer. Mr. Hummel might have worked in a garage, but he was one of the richest men in the town, not someone you wanted to make an enemy of. He'd nearly sued the school a dozen times on behalf of his son.
XxX XxX
Puck sighed, heading back into the school. He'd forgotten his guitar in the music room again and after the last lecture he'd been given on taking better care of his things that had somehow managed to turn into a rant on why the Jews were a persecuted people, he wasn't taking any chances.
He kicked open the door, jumping at the startled squeak from inside the room. What the hell, did the school have rat problems again? It was awesome to miss a week while the school was being fumigated, but that was also a week of listening to his mother bitch about his education going down the drain and all their taxes going to waste on some big fatcat who wasn't even Jewish.
“Who's in here?”
“Go away.” Puck blinked at the high pitched voice.
“Hummel?”
“GO AWAY!” That nearly sounded like a sob. Anything resembling tears usually had Puck heading as far away as he could get, but this was a little different. He'd never seen the pale boy shed a single tear in the ten years they'd gone to school together.
“What the hell's the matter with you? Someone ruin your hair?” Puck stepped into the room and stopped, the kid was white..well whiter then normal. His eyes were huge, pupils blurred out, and he was shaking. Hands clenching and unclenching on his arms, fingernails digging in and leaving red welts on his snow white skin.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Puck was halfway across the room before he realized he'd even moved.
“I'm fine, just-just stay over there.” The shaking got worse as Mr. Hummels voice could be heard echoing down the hall in a shouting match with the football coach. “I-I havta...my dad.” Kurt tried to push himself up, but he was shaking too badly to manage, simply flopping back onto the floor.
Puck came closer, intent on helping the gleek up from the floor. Kurt shrunk against the wall the closer her got, and when Puck grabbed his arm he jolted, a small sound of terror escaping his lips.
“Don't touch me. Just...get my dad. Please.” Puck stared, not sure how to deal with something like this, Kurt's arm had felt cold to the touch. He nodded after a couple of moments and gone into the hallway.
“Hey, Mr. Hummel. Kurt's in the music room, he's...I think he's in shock.”
“You would know.” The snarl from the older man had Puck gaping as Mr. Hummel pushed past him.
“I-I didn't do anything. I wasn't even there.”
“I don't care where you were. This is the last time anything like this happens.”
Puck followed Mr. Hummel into the music room, watching as Kurt's father wrapped him up in his jacket, half carrying him out of the music room and then out of the school. They passed Coach Tanaka again on the way out.
“Mr. Hummel, I'm sorry something like this happened-”
“Save it. You, mohawk.”
“It's Pu-ah Noah...sir.”
“Noah, take Kurt's car back to the house.” Puck nodded, catching the keys Mr. Hummel threw at him.
“Sure.”
XxX XxX
Getting Kurt home was easy, making him take a hot shower, drink a cup of soup and tucking him in with a cup of hot chocolate and season four of Supernatural and Hades at the foot of his bed was something Mr. Hummel did without complaint. He'd missed this part of being a father, didn't know how to let Kurt know that hugs were something he could have on a daily basis.
The mohawk kid, Noah was in the kitchen, having dropped off Kurt's car and bag, and then been made to stay for supper as a thank you.
“He okay?”
“He'll be fine.”
“Did...he tell you what happened?”
“Yeah.” Puck nodded, seeing that Kurt's father wasn't about to elaborate on the situation. It had to be something bad though, the way Kurt had reacted to him in the music room.
“I'm gonna get going.” Mr. Hummel nodded, seeming a little distracted, not that Puck could blame him. He thought about the tiny girl growing inside Quinn, thought about how he would feel. Anger began to build up as he imagined that tiny little baby shaking like Kurt had been, eyes big and shining with tears.
“Dammit.” Puck didn't realize he'd spoken until Mr. Hummel raised an eyebrow at him. “What the hell happened to him? I'd be so pissed if that happened to my kid.”
“As much as it would help, I can't go around punching kids. Even if they deserve it.” There was a dry humor to Mr. Hummels voice that had some of the Pucks anger dissipating.
“So?”
“They were waiting at his car, told him to get it. He dialed my number and then ran. All I could hear was him saying he wasn't going anywhere with anyone and then one of them telling him to 'Get in the car Hummel'.” Puck looked down at his empty soup cup, wondering what had made his teammates go after Kurt like that.
“You know anything about this kid?”
“No. If I did I would have stopped them.”
“Like you've stopped them so many times before?” There was a sneer in the words, one that was meant the way it sounded.
“Look, throwing a kid in the dumpster is one thing, but they were gonna do is something I'd never take part in?”
“You sound like you know what they were planning.” Curiosity, and something darker and far more dangerous.
“It doesn't happen often, last time it did we were in grade six, but I remember my mother talking about how dangerous kids were getting, and what a shame about that poor boy.”
“Stephen Glish.”
“Yeah.” Puck edged back at the growl erupting from Mr. Hummels throat.
“They were gonna throw my boy off the bridge?”
“And you call me a drama queen.” Both men turned to see Kurt standing at the stairs, Hades pressing up against his thigh.
“You should be in bed.” Puck blurted out before he could help himself.
“I'm fine.” Kurt turned to his father. “And before you say it, yes, I am going to school tomorrow.”
“You are not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Kurt, you need to drop this crap about letting them win. They could have killed you.”
“But they didn't.”
“Kurt. I already lost your mother, I don't think I could handle losing you.” Puck kept glancing back and forth. Kurt's face had gone from tight with anger to soft with an emotion that Puck couldn't place. It was sorrow and love and grief and grace all mixed together. And Puck wonders what it would be like to have that look aimed at him, but not by Kurt obviously. That would just be weird.
And then just for a second he thinks about getting that look from Kurt and he feels warm all over. And while father and son are still arguing over whether Kurt's going to school tomorrow, Puck slips out the door, knowing his mother is gonna worry about him once this gets out.
XxX XxX
To be continued...
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