(Put Me Back Together) Late Arrivals (4/?)
Title: Put Me Back Together
Part: Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- There might not be a new chapter next week. It all depends on how fast I can type and how I'm feeling.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 4: Late Arrivals
When more people started showing up, Kurt took their coats and laid them neatly across his bed. But soon after the arrival of the first few glee club members, that system went right out the window. Because as little groups of kids came tromping down the stairs in quick succession, Kurt lost track of whose jackets he had and hadn’t taken. And before he knew what was happening, Kurt’s nice, neat basement was littered with small mounds of coats, scarves, gloves, and who knew what else.
He thought about going through the room and picking up all of the discarded clothing. Because really, the mess was driving him nuts, and he just couldn’t take it. But when Kurt heard a commotion at the top of the steps, he changed his mind.
Looking up, he was surprised to see a man, (whom he could only assume was Mr. Abrams), who stood on one side of Artie’s wheelchair, was directing Puck to stand on the other side. And standing in the doorway, as if awaiting instructions, were Kurt’s father and Uncle Mike.
When Kurt’s eyes fell on Artie, who was looking at his clasped hands as if he were ashamed, Kurt felt his stomach clench up in guilt. Because as much as he hated to admit it, when Kurt had made his plans for the party, he’d totally forgotten about Artie’s wheelchair and the narrow stairway leading into the basement. If he’d have thought about it, Kurt would have asked his dad if they could have used the T.V. in the living room. With twelve people, it would have been cramped, but it would have been better than struggling with the staircase.
But he hadn’t remembered.
And because of that, Mr. Abrams, Puck, Kurt’s father, and Uncle Mike were awkwardly trying to maneuver their way down the steps with a wheelchair and an obviously embarrassed Artie.
Taking a quick look around the room, Kurt was relieved to see that everyone else was too busy to notice, because they were pulling off even more extra layers or digging into the food. But just as he was about look back up the stairs, Kurt saw Tina out of the corner of his eye. She looked sad and worried as she studied Artie, and it was only then that Kurt realized the two had barely spoken in the past month. And though that definitely bared being thought about some more, Artie’s chair was finally being placed on the basement floor.
Completely forgetting about Tina, Kurt rushed forward, starting his apology before he was even within earshot of the other boy. “Artie, I’m so sor-”
“It’s ok. I understand.” Artie looked down at his lap before looking up at Kurt. “It’s not like you have to deal with this every day after all.” His voice was soft, but Kurt had gotten the message. After spending a week in a wheelchair himself, hosting a bake sale to pay for a handicap accessible bus, and doing a Proud Mary in wheelchairs, he very much should have remembered.
Kurt’s clear blue eyes looked up, hoping to find his father, but both he and his uncle were gone. And he could only assume that they’d gone back upstairs to continue their riveting discussion about what lures fish would find more enticing.
The only other adult who was left was Mr. Abrams. Kurt looked into his eyes, imploring him to understand. But Mr. Abrams merely shrugged, clearly wanting his son to fight his own battles. And Kurt couldn’t really blame him for that. Artie, after all, would have to deal with things like this for the rest of his life.
Giving up on Artie’s dad, Kurt opened his mouth to apologize again, but Mr. Abrams spoke up first. “Well, you guys have a good time.” He nodded once at Kurt before placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. When Artie looked up, he smiled down at him. “Just give me a call when you’re ready to come home, ok?”
Artie just nodded and smiled at his dad. When the older man turned and walked up the stairs, Artie watched him go. The moment Mr. Abrams disappeared into the kitchen, Artie turned back around but didn’t look at Kurt. “Thank you, Puck.”
Puck?
Kurt had been so focused on his guilt over forgetting about Artie that he’d completely forgotten that Puck had helped carry him down the steps.
More importantly, he hadn’t realized that Puck was still standing with them.
And before he could stop himself, Kurt looked over to his side. Puck was indeed standing there, mere inches away from him. He looked freshly shaven, and the wonderful smell of Ivory soap mixed with aftershave wafted off of his skin. The boy’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and when he shrugged at Artie, his elbow brushed against Kurt’s arm. And when Puck spoke, Kurt noticed an almost non-existent smile at the corner of his lips. But what surprised him the most was that he looked almost… humble. “Hey, man. No prob’.”
Kurt felt the own mouth begin to twitch. But he fought back the urge to smile, pressing his lips together instead. In all of the time he’d known Puck, Kurt had never once seen him look so… kind.
For the most part, he’d only ever seen Puck as a pompous jock or a brooding bad boy. Deep down, Kurt knew that there was more, that there had to be more, to the other boy than his two favorite facades. But this was the first time that Kurt actually cared.
The realization that he cared for anything regarding Noah Puckerman caused the burgeoning smile to disappear from Kurt’s face instantly. And when he noticed that he’d been lost in thought for who knew how long, Kurt felt the tips of his ears begin to burn.
Puck’s dark brow was furrowed, and Kurt felt himself squirm under his glare. “Dude-”
“Don’t call me dude.” Kurt cut Puck off before he could say anymore, his agitation steadily growing. “And why are you still standing there? Don’t you have someone else to go bother?” It was unforgivably rude, and Kurt truly regretted that. But he just could not handle Puck staring at him any longer. It was unnerving, and worse, a very tiny (and traitorous) part of him liked it.
What he enjoyed Puck’s gaze, Kurt didn’t know. Puck certainly wasn’t Finn after all. And he never would be. But Kurt couldn’t help it.
So Kurt decided that he could only blame his newfound outlook on Puck as a result of the one stupid kiss they’d shared.
His ears still burning, Kurt wanted to say something else, to cover up his social gaffe, but a shared look between Artie and Puck kept Kurt’s mouth shut. And it also served to encourage his ever-growing blush to creep across his cheekbones. As he stood there staring at the two of them, Kurt half-expected Puck to tell him off. But it was Artie who spoke up instead.
“Well, you’re sorta blocking his way. And mine for that matter.” Artie made a show of looking at where Kurt was standing in relationship to himself and Puck.
“Oh.” The word, in all of its ineloquence, escaped from Kurt’s lips before he had a chance to stop it. And for the first time since he’d walked over, Kurt looked at where they were standing.
Artie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and Puck was next to him, trapped between the wall and the wheelchair. And both boys were stuck in their spots because Kurt was standing directly in front of them.
“Yeah…” This time it was Puck who spoke, but rather than look at him, Kurt studied the floor as he stepped to the side.
“I, umh, why don’t you go and get something to eat before…” As Kurt’s voice trailed off, all three of them looked over at the food table. Finn had a half-eaten slice of cheese and sausage pizza hanging out of his mouth and had stacked what looked like one of each kind of pizza on his plate.
The sight warmed Kurt’s heart, causing a little smile to tug at his lips. It was the type of silly expression that came from watching one’s crush at their most innocent and adorable. “Before Finn eats it all.” Kurt’s voice had softened, and he looked away quickly, hoping that Artie and (mainly) Puck hadn’t noticed.
Artie’s amused laugh met his ears, and Kurt smiled in relief. Not only had the other boy obviously missed the look he’d just given Finn, but he didn’t seem to be angry anymore either. And Kurt grabbed at the chance to apologize to him once more. “Artie, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok, really. This is the first time I’ve been over before. I understand.” Artie looked up at him and smiled kindly. But Kurt could tell from the look in his eyes that he was still hurt. However, before either of them could say anything else, Artie rolled over to the couch where Finn was now sitting with Mercedes.
When Kurt turned away from them, he was surprised to see that not only was Puck still standing next to him, but that his dark eyes were flickering from Finn to himself. And this time, unlike the other day in glee club, the emotion behind his gaze was obvious. He was angry, very angry.
It was then that Kurt realized that he’d never seen Puck truly mad before. Because whenever Puck had thrown him in the dumpster or hurled insults at Kurt, he seemed more devious and gleeful than angry. And the sight took Kurt’s breath away.
His first instinct was to run, hide, to make sure that Puck could neither beat him up nor try to shove him in something without everyone noticing.
But with the full force of Puck’s anger trained on him, Kurt couldn’t move. His feet, in their stylish loafers, were rooted to their spot as is he’d actually sprouted roots in the floor. So while his brain was loudly and clearly screaming, “Go! Run! Save your pretty face!” his feet disobeyed. Kurt tried to speak, to break the silence between them, but his lips had barely opened when Puck spoke up.
“You are still in my way.” His voice was irritated, upset, but it nowhere near matched the fury in his eyes.
And once again, Kurt replied with a very unsophisticated response. “Oh.” It was only then that Kurt noticed that when he’d moved for Artie he’d completely blocked Puck, even more so than before.
Puck just stared at him, clearly waiting for him to move. But desperate to hold his ground in his own home, Kurt frantically thought of something to say. What he came up with was nowhere near as witty or biting as he’d hoped to be, but it was something nonetheless.
“Here, let me take your coat.” Kurt’s soft voice shook a little as Puck’s look changed to one of surprise.
Never once taking his eyes off of Kurt, Puck took his hands out of his pockets and peeled off his jacket, revealing a well worn band t-shirt underneath. And as Puck stared into what felt like the very depths of Kurt’s soul, Kurt wondered how he had managed to never notice how incredibly expressive Puck’s eyes were before. Because, ever since their kiss, Kurt felt like he kept falling into the depths of the other boy’s stare without any type of lifesaver to pull him out.
When Puck held out his coat to him, Kurt blinked his eyes hard to try and regain control of his senses. The second he re-opened them, he reached out, expecting Puck to hand the heavy, black jacket to him.
But he never did.
Instead, Puck just stood there waiting, his arm outstretched and expectant, his coat lying over it.
Irritated and slightly humiliated, Kurt sighed in exasperation before sliding his hand under the coat to take it from Puck. It angered him that the other boy was so obstinate that he couldn’t even bring himself to hand over a jacket. And because of that, Kurt turned, already walking away before he even had a grasp on the material.
But Puck’s hand, steady and sure, was slipping over his wrist underneath the concealing cloak of the jacket. The touch had him frozen in his spot once again.
Puck’s fingers, so long and sure, took their time tracing the contours of pale skin and bone as if he knew Kurt wouldn’t pull away.
Oh, he wanted to yank his wrist out of Puck’s grasp, but Kurt couldn’t. Not only because of shock or fear or a dangerous mix of them both, but because…
It felt good.
And Kurt liked it.
It wasn’t so much that he enjoyed the feel of Puck’s hand on his wrist. And if he really tried, Kurt could almost pretend that it was Finn’s fingers that were gently holding his wrist. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was staring across the room at Finn, who was laughing at something Mercedes was saying, it would have been very easy for Kurt to have gotten lost in that fantasy.
But what it came down to was that Kurt was so… new to all of this.
He might have always known who he was and that he preferred his own sex to the opposite, but he was still a kid.
Kurt had never held hands with another boy or been on the receiving end of a crush (Mercedes not withstanding). And to make matters worse, Kurt had managed to fall for someone whom he knew he had no chance with. But despite all of that, he had had a first kiss. Unfortunately, it had been with someone who’d made an art form out of tormenting him.
And Kurt hated that fact even more than he hated admitting Rachel had talent.
Which he couldn’t help but think just wasn’t fair.
It was a petulant thought, Kurt wouldn’t deny it. But he didn’t care. And he would have been happy to wallow in self-pity a while longer, but Puck seemed to have other plans.
Puck gave a gentle tug on his wrist, and Kurt felt his heart speed up, the pulse point on the underside fluttering madly. And before Kurt could stop himself, could remind himself that he loathed the boy attached to the hand, he turned around.
When he did, Kurt tried to look anywhere but into Puck’s eyes. But really, there was nothing to look at other than a blank wall or a set of stairs. And rather than stare at either of those, Kurt’s eyes dropped to the black fabric covering their hands.
“Dude, I…” Puck’s voice was low and hesitant. Kurt was surprised to realize that it was the first time he’d ever heard him sound anything less than 115% sure of himself.
“I told you not to call me that.” Kurt’s voice was soft even though he’d interrupted Puck. He should have been angrier, should have sounded more upset after Puck once again addressed him by his least favorite moniker. Instead, he was lifting his eyes and swallowing back the nerves that had quickly taken over his body.
And though Kurt wished he would, Puck didn’t say anything for a moment. But when their gazes met, Kurt noticed something very slight flicker in Puck’s eyes. It was almost as if Kurt had seen a tiny spark in his deep brown irises.
“Hummel.” Puck put so much significance and meaning in that one word that it caused Kurt to gasp slightly. Praying that Puck hadn’t noticed, he quickly pressed his lips together.
Whether he had or not, Kurt couldn’t tell. And he also no longer cared because at that moment, Kurt wanted nothing more than to step forward, to close the distance between them. Not because he felt anything for Puck, of course. But because there was something in his voice, and Kurt was desperate to find out what it was, to see if he could discover the meaning with his lips.
And for that moment, Finn was totally forgotten.
Which Puck seemed to understand because his fingers tightened ever so slightly around Kurt’s wrist. And Kurt noticed that, somehow, Puck’s eyes had managed to become darker, more intense. Whatever he’d been planning to say was long forgotten, tossed aside as Puck pulled on Kurt’s wrist so slightly that Kurt wasn’t even sure he’d felt it.
But he had, or Kurt wanted to believe he had anyway. Because the next thing he knew, his body was leaning forward of its own accord and every muscle, every nerve and synapse seemed to trembling in anticipation of what was to come…
“Hey, Kurt! When are we gonna get this party started?” Mike’s voice, muffled by a chunk of pizza, seemed to echo through the room. And it slapped Kurt harshly across the face, pointing out the reality of the situation.
And before he could stop himself, before he could process what had (or hadn’t) happened, Kurt pulled his arm out of Puck’s grip. He didn’t pull hard; his wrist slipped easily, too easily really, through the fingers that had been holding it.
When he turned to walk away, Puck didn’t try to stop him or pull him back.
The jacket that had been covering their hands was long forgotten.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- To everyone who has read and reviewed (even if you’ve just read), THANK YOU.
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Part: Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- There might not be a new chapter next week. It all depends on how fast I can type and how I'm feeling.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 4: Late Arrivals
When more people started showing up, Kurt took their coats and laid them neatly across his bed. But soon after the arrival of the first few glee club members, that system went right out the window. Because as little groups of kids came tromping down the stairs in quick succession, Kurt lost track of whose jackets he had and hadn’t taken. And before he knew what was happening, Kurt’s nice, neat basement was littered with small mounds of coats, scarves, gloves, and who knew what else.
He thought about going through the room and picking up all of the discarded clothing. Because really, the mess was driving him nuts, and he just couldn’t take it. But when Kurt heard a commotion at the top of the steps, he changed his mind.
Looking up, he was surprised to see a man, (whom he could only assume was Mr. Abrams), who stood on one side of Artie’s wheelchair, was directing Puck to stand on the other side. And standing in the doorway, as if awaiting instructions, were Kurt’s father and Uncle Mike.
When Kurt’s eyes fell on Artie, who was looking at his clasped hands as if he were ashamed, Kurt felt his stomach clench up in guilt. Because as much as he hated to admit it, when Kurt had made his plans for the party, he’d totally forgotten about Artie’s wheelchair and the narrow stairway leading into the basement. If he’d have thought about it, Kurt would have asked his dad if they could have used the T.V. in the living room. With twelve people, it would have been cramped, but it would have been better than struggling with the staircase.
But he hadn’t remembered.
And because of that, Mr. Abrams, Puck, Kurt’s father, and Uncle Mike were awkwardly trying to maneuver their way down the steps with a wheelchair and an obviously embarrassed Artie.
Taking a quick look around the room, Kurt was relieved to see that everyone else was too busy to notice, because they were pulling off even more extra layers or digging into the food. But just as he was about look back up the stairs, Kurt saw Tina out of the corner of his eye. She looked sad and worried as she studied Artie, and it was only then that Kurt realized the two had barely spoken in the past month. And though that definitely bared being thought about some more, Artie’s chair was finally being placed on the basement floor.
Completely forgetting about Tina, Kurt rushed forward, starting his apology before he was even within earshot of the other boy. “Artie, I’m so sor-”
“It’s ok. I understand.” Artie looked down at his lap before looking up at Kurt. “It’s not like you have to deal with this every day after all.” His voice was soft, but Kurt had gotten the message. After spending a week in a wheelchair himself, hosting a bake sale to pay for a handicap accessible bus, and doing a Proud Mary in wheelchairs, he very much should have remembered.
Kurt’s clear blue eyes looked up, hoping to find his father, but both he and his uncle were gone. And he could only assume that they’d gone back upstairs to continue their riveting discussion about what lures fish would find more enticing.
The only other adult who was left was Mr. Abrams. Kurt looked into his eyes, imploring him to understand. But Mr. Abrams merely shrugged, clearly wanting his son to fight his own battles. And Kurt couldn’t really blame him for that. Artie, after all, would have to deal with things like this for the rest of his life.
Giving up on Artie’s dad, Kurt opened his mouth to apologize again, but Mr. Abrams spoke up first. “Well, you guys have a good time.” He nodded once at Kurt before placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. When Artie looked up, he smiled down at him. “Just give me a call when you’re ready to come home, ok?”
Artie just nodded and smiled at his dad. When the older man turned and walked up the stairs, Artie watched him go. The moment Mr. Abrams disappeared into the kitchen, Artie turned back around but didn’t look at Kurt. “Thank you, Puck.”
Puck?
Kurt had been so focused on his guilt over forgetting about Artie that he’d completely forgotten that Puck had helped carry him down the steps.
More importantly, he hadn’t realized that Puck was still standing with them.
And before he could stop himself, Kurt looked over to his side. Puck was indeed standing there, mere inches away from him. He looked freshly shaven, and the wonderful smell of Ivory soap mixed with aftershave wafted off of his skin. The boy’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and when he shrugged at Artie, his elbow brushed against Kurt’s arm. And when Puck spoke, Kurt noticed an almost non-existent smile at the corner of his lips. But what surprised him the most was that he looked almost… humble. “Hey, man. No prob’.”
Kurt felt the own mouth begin to twitch. But he fought back the urge to smile, pressing his lips together instead. In all of the time he’d known Puck, Kurt had never once seen him look so… kind.
For the most part, he’d only ever seen Puck as a pompous jock or a brooding bad boy. Deep down, Kurt knew that there was more, that there had to be more, to the other boy than his two favorite facades. But this was the first time that Kurt actually cared.
The realization that he cared for anything regarding Noah Puckerman caused the burgeoning smile to disappear from Kurt’s face instantly. And when he noticed that he’d been lost in thought for who knew how long, Kurt felt the tips of his ears begin to burn.
Puck’s dark brow was furrowed, and Kurt felt himself squirm under his glare. “Dude-”
“Don’t call me dude.” Kurt cut Puck off before he could say anymore, his agitation steadily growing. “And why are you still standing there? Don’t you have someone else to go bother?” It was unforgivably rude, and Kurt truly regretted that. But he just could not handle Puck staring at him any longer. It was unnerving, and worse, a very tiny (and traitorous) part of him liked it.
What he enjoyed Puck’s gaze, Kurt didn’t know. Puck certainly wasn’t Finn after all. And he never would be. But Kurt couldn’t help it.
So Kurt decided that he could only blame his newfound outlook on Puck as a result of the one stupid kiss they’d shared.
His ears still burning, Kurt wanted to say something else, to cover up his social gaffe, but a shared look between Artie and Puck kept Kurt’s mouth shut. And it also served to encourage his ever-growing blush to creep across his cheekbones. As he stood there staring at the two of them, Kurt half-expected Puck to tell him off. But it was Artie who spoke up instead.
“Well, you’re sorta blocking his way. And mine for that matter.” Artie made a show of looking at where Kurt was standing in relationship to himself and Puck.
“Oh.” The word, in all of its ineloquence, escaped from Kurt’s lips before he had a chance to stop it. And for the first time since he’d walked over, Kurt looked at where they were standing.
Artie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and Puck was next to him, trapped between the wall and the wheelchair. And both boys were stuck in their spots because Kurt was standing directly in front of them.
“Yeah…” This time it was Puck who spoke, but rather than look at him, Kurt studied the floor as he stepped to the side.
“I, umh, why don’t you go and get something to eat before…” As Kurt’s voice trailed off, all three of them looked over at the food table. Finn had a half-eaten slice of cheese and sausage pizza hanging out of his mouth and had stacked what looked like one of each kind of pizza on his plate.
The sight warmed Kurt’s heart, causing a little smile to tug at his lips. It was the type of silly expression that came from watching one’s crush at their most innocent and adorable. “Before Finn eats it all.” Kurt’s voice had softened, and he looked away quickly, hoping that Artie and (mainly) Puck hadn’t noticed.
Artie’s amused laugh met his ears, and Kurt smiled in relief. Not only had the other boy obviously missed the look he’d just given Finn, but he didn’t seem to be angry anymore either. And Kurt grabbed at the chance to apologize to him once more. “Artie, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok, really. This is the first time I’ve been over before. I understand.” Artie looked up at him and smiled kindly. But Kurt could tell from the look in his eyes that he was still hurt. However, before either of them could say anything else, Artie rolled over to the couch where Finn was now sitting with Mercedes.
When Kurt turned away from them, he was surprised to see that not only was Puck still standing next to him, but that his dark eyes were flickering from Finn to himself. And this time, unlike the other day in glee club, the emotion behind his gaze was obvious. He was angry, very angry.
It was then that Kurt realized that he’d never seen Puck truly mad before. Because whenever Puck had thrown him in the dumpster or hurled insults at Kurt, he seemed more devious and gleeful than angry. And the sight took Kurt’s breath away.
His first instinct was to run, hide, to make sure that Puck could neither beat him up nor try to shove him in something without everyone noticing.
But with the full force of Puck’s anger trained on him, Kurt couldn’t move. His feet, in their stylish loafers, were rooted to their spot as is he’d actually sprouted roots in the floor. So while his brain was loudly and clearly screaming, “Go! Run! Save your pretty face!” his feet disobeyed. Kurt tried to speak, to break the silence between them, but his lips had barely opened when Puck spoke up.
“You are still in my way.” His voice was irritated, upset, but it nowhere near matched the fury in his eyes.
And once again, Kurt replied with a very unsophisticated response. “Oh.” It was only then that Kurt noticed that when he’d moved for Artie he’d completely blocked Puck, even more so than before.
Puck just stared at him, clearly waiting for him to move. But desperate to hold his ground in his own home, Kurt frantically thought of something to say. What he came up with was nowhere near as witty or biting as he’d hoped to be, but it was something nonetheless.
“Here, let me take your coat.” Kurt’s soft voice shook a little as Puck’s look changed to one of surprise.
Never once taking his eyes off of Kurt, Puck took his hands out of his pockets and peeled off his jacket, revealing a well worn band t-shirt underneath. And as Puck stared into what felt like the very depths of Kurt’s soul, Kurt wondered how he had managed to never notice how incredibly expressive Puck’s eyes were before. Because, ever since their kiss, Kurt felt like he kept falling into the depths of the other boy’s stare without any type of lifesaver to pull him out.
When Puck held out his coat to him, Kurt blinked his eyes hard to try and regain control of his senses. The second he re-opened them, he reached out, expecting Puck to hand the heavy, black jacket to him.
But he never did.
Instead, Puck just stood there waiting, his arm outstretched and expectant, his coat lying over it.
Irritated and slightly humiliated, Kurt sighed in exasperation before sliding his hand under the coat to take it from Puck. It angered him that the other boy was so obstinate that he couldn’t even bring himself to hand over a jacket. And because of that, Kurt turned, already walking away before he even had a grasp on the material.
But Puck’s hand, steady and sure, was slipping over his wrist underneath the concealing cloak of the jacket. The touch had him frozen in his spot once again.
Puck’s fingers, so long and sure, took their time tracing the contours of pale skin and bone as if he knew Kurt wouldn’t pull away.
Oh, he wanted to yank his wrist out of Puck’s grasp, but Kurt couldn’t. Not only because of shock or fear or a dangerous mix of them both, but because…
It felt good.
And Kurt liked it.
It wasn’t so much that he enjoyed the feel of Puck’s hand on his wrist. And if he really tried, Kurt could almost pretend that it was Finn’s fingers that were gently holding his wrist. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was staring across the room at Finn, who was laughing at something Mercedes was saying, it would have been very easy for Kurt to have gotten lost in that fantasy.
But what it came down to was that Kurt was so… new to all of this.
He might have always known who he was and that he preferred his own sex to the opposite, but he was still a kid.
Kurt had never held hands with another boy or been on the receiving end of a crush (Mercedes not withstanding). And to make matters worse, Kurt had managed to fall for someone whom he knew he had no chance with. But despite all of that, he had had a first kiss. Unfortunately, it had been with someone who’d made an art form out of tormenting him.
And Kurt hated that fact even more than he hated admitting Rachel had talent.
Which he couldn’t help but think just wasn’t fair.
It was a petulant thought, Kurt wouldn’t deny it. But he didn’t care. And he would have been happy to wallow in self-pity a while longer, but Puck seemed to have other plans.
Puck gave a gentle tug on his wrist, and Kurt felt his heart speed up, the pulse point on the underside fluttering madly. And before Kurt could stop himself, could remind himself that he loathed the boy attached to the hand, he turned around.
When he did, Kurt tried to look anywhere but into Puck’s eyes. But really, there was nothing to look at other than a blank wall or a set of stairs. And rather than stare at either of those, Kurt’s eyes dropped to the black fabric covering their hands.
“Dude, I…” Puck’s voice was low and hesitant. Kurt was surprised to realize that it was the first time he’d ever heard him sound anything less than 115% sure of himself.
“I told you not to call me that.” Kurt’s voice was soft even though he’d interrupted Puck. He should have been angrier, should have sounded more upset after Puck once again addressed him by his least favorite moniker. Instead, he was lifting his eyes and swallowing back the nerves that had quickly taken over his body.
And though Kurt wished he would, Puck didn’t say anything for a moment. But when their gazes met, Kurt noticed something very slight flicker in Puck’s eyes. It was almost as if Kurt had seen a tiny spark in his deep brown irises.
“Hummel.” Puck put so much significance and meaning in that one word that it caused Kurt to gasp slightly. Praying that Puck hadn’t noticed, he quickly pressed his lips together.
Whether he had or not, Kurt couldn’t tell. And he also no longer cared because at that moment, Kurt wanted nothing more than to step forward, to close the distance between them. Not because he felt anything for Puck, of course. But because there was something in his voice, and Kurt was desperate to find out what it was, to see if he could discover the meaning with his lips.
And for that moment, Finn was totally forgotten.
Which Puck seemed to understand because his fingers tightened ever so slightly around Kurt’s wrist. And Kurt noticed that, somehow, Puck’s eyes had managed to become darker, more intense. Whatever he’d been planning to say was long forgotten, tossed aside as Puck pulled on Kurt’s wrist so slightly that Kurt wasn’t even sure he’d felt it.
But he had, or Kurt wanted to believe he had anyway. Because the next thing he knew, his body was leaning forward of its own accord and every muscle, every nerve and synapse seemed to trembling in anticipation of what was to come…
“Hey, Kurt! When are we gonna get this party started?” Mike’s voice, muffled by a chunk of pizza, seemed to echo through the room. And it slapped Kurt harshly across the face, pointing out the reality of the situation.
And before he could stop himself, before he could process what had (or hadn’t) happened, Kurt pulled his arm out of Puck’s grip. He didn’t pull hard; his wrist slipped easily, too easily really, through the fingers that had been holding it.
When he turned to walk away, Puck didn’t try to stop him or pull him back.
The jacket that had been covering their hands was long forgotten.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- To everyone who has read and reviewed (even if you’ve just read), THANK YOU.
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle