(Put Me Back Together) Cloudy - Chance of Tension (12/?)
Title: Put Me Back Together
Part: Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
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.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
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 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
“Tonight’s the night. And it’s going to happen again and again. Has to happen.” Michael C. Hall’s voice filled Kurt’s basement, seeming to swirl in the air like a thick fog. And for just a moment, Kurt felt self-conscious as the words washed over him. Oh, Kurt knew that Dexter wasn’t speaking to him about Puck, that he was talking about killing someone. But the words and their possibility made the hairs on the back of Kurt’s neck stand up nonetheless.
“Pass the soy sauce?” Puck, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it ironic at all.
Mentally berating himself for being ridiculous, Kurt leaned forward and plucked the half-empty bottle off of the small table. And as he did, he took great care not to drop his plate on the floor. Because he had absolutely no desire to clean Chinese food off of the small accent rug he’d just purchased.
As he sat back, the rug safe, Kurt handed the sauce over to Puck. And even though he was holding the bottle out to Puck, his attention was split between balancing his dinner and the television screen, because after that opening, he was intrigued.
Dexter was driving down a crowded street, talking about his love for Miami and Cuban food. The electric sights and sounds of a hot Miami night had pulled Kurt’s thoughts away from the bottle of sauce that was still in his hand. But when Puck’s fingertips slid over Kurt’s as he reached for the bottle, all of Kurt’s attention was pulled towards the contact.
He froze instantly, aware of Puck in a way he hadn’t been only moments before. Somehow, the other boy felt more… real now that they’d touched.
Puck was no longer just an idea; he was real person who could touch and be touched. And pressed against Kurt’s skin, Puck’s fingers were soft, tentative as if he were unsure of what he was doing. Unlike the times they’d touched before, this was an accident. Neither of them had planned it; it was a pure and honest brush of fingers that held no deeper meaning or significance. And that terrified Kurt while thrilling him at the same time. Because as Puck’s hand covered Kurt’s, he realized that he wanted more. But of what, Kurt was scared to admit. Even to himself.
And before Kurt could stop himself, he looked over at Puck.
When he turned, he hadn’t thought about what he’d find. Because much to Kurt’s surprise, Puck was staring at him, and there was something akin to confusion in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he was unsure or afraid. Why that was, Kurt didn’t know, but he could tell that Puck was asking for reassurance nonetheless.
With their fingertips still touching, Kurt smiled softly, shyly. Across from him, Puck stared back, the apprehension draining slowly from his eyes. And for just a second, Kurt allowed his hand to remain under Puck’s. He allowed himself a moment to just feel.
Which Kurt found wasn’t difficult because all of his attention was zeroed in on what he was experiencing. Against the back of Kurt’s knuckles, Puck’s fingertips were warm and heavily calloused from years of strumming his guitar. The rough skin against his own smooth hand caused Kurt’s breath to quicken and the tips of his ears to burn.
And even though Kurt hated to do it, he pulled his fingers out from under Puck’s, dropping his gaze as he did so. He wanted to leave his hand under the other boy’s, he really did, but Kurt wasn’t sure he could handle what that meant. After all, he still felt for Finn. Sure, they may have been changing, but they were still there. So he’s pulled away, looking down at his food as he did.
But even though his face was no longer turned towards the other boy, Kurt was still trying to sneak a peek at him. And out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could see Puck shaking the bottle over his lo mein and fried rice, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he were trying to hold back a smile.
Kurt instantly found himself wanting to ask Puck what he was smiling about. But he quickly decided against it, figuring that he might not want to know the answer. So rather than say anything, Kurt turned back to his food and picked up his chopsticks. Working them with a skill and precision that had taken years to come by, Kurt twisted the bamboo sticks around his lo mein and pulled out a few noodles. And while Kurt delicately lifted them to his lips, Puck savagely speared a chunk of chicken with his fork.
When they’d first ladled out their dinner, each taking a little of everything, Kurt had offered Puck a pair of chopsticks. But Puck had refused on the grounds that they were for wusses. Personally though, Kurt had been pretty sure that Puck just didn’t know how to use them. But now, watching as Puck shoveled food into his mouth with a fork, Kurt tried to imagine the other boy using chopsticks.
And it just didn’t fit.
So he kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes as Puck stabbed at his plate.
Just short of an hour later, Kurt and Puck were both settled back into the couch, having placed their empty plates among the half-empty food cartons on the small coffee table. They’d paused Dexter for a few minutes for a bathroom break and to get refills on their drinks. And somehow, when they’d resituated themselves on the couch, they’d ended up much closer than when they’d started out.
Unlike before, Puck was sitting almost in the middle of the white sofa, legs spread wide and his arms across the back of the couch. Kurt had sat to his left, his legs pulled up underneath himself, and they were so close that their knees were touching ever so slightly. And with Puck’s arms draped over the back of the couch, Kurt almost felt as if Puck had his arm around him. It was comfortable and left him feeling content as the murderous story played out on the screen before them.
For the most part, Kurt had been able to handle the grisly show, but when a severed head came flying across the screen, Kurt gave an involuntary shudder. At this moment, Puck looked over, a slight trace of concern in his voice.
“You cold?” Puck had asked a question, but he didn’t wait for Kurt to respond before hopping off the couch.
The second Puck left his side, Kurt wished he was back on the couch next to him. Because now, unlike when he’d shivered at the TV show, he did feel cold. But Kurt didn’t just feel cold.
No, he felt alone as well.
But before Kurt could say a word, Puck plopped back down on the couch next to him, Kurt’s mother’s blanket in his hands.
“Here…” Puck’s voice was low and slightly distracted as he unfolded the soft grey throw.
As Puck spread out the blanket, Kurt stared at him in amazement. Part of Kurt wanted to ask Puck what he was doing, but a much larger part of him was afraid that if he so much as breathed too hard, Puck would disappear. Because it all seemed too good to be true. But then again, since sectionals, everything had changed.
And for the very first time, Kurt realized that not all of those changes were bad.
Marveling at that realization, Kurt just watched Puck in amazement and a bit of worry. Because his newly found knowledge opened up so many doors, doors that Kurt wasn’t sure if he was ready to walk through or not. And when the blanket fell across Kurt’s lap, he reached out and pulled the edge closer to himself. Kurt wasn’t really cold but filled with uncertainty, and he craved the familiarity and comfort of his mother’s gift.
Sliding his hands over the yarn that had been lovingly worked into intricate patterns, Kurt felt himself relax ever so slightly. “Thank you, I…” Kurt’s voice trailed off as his clear blue eyes went wide as saucers.
Puck was sitting back down on the couch, pulling the other half of the blanket over his own legs. And after settling in, Puck turned to Kurt as he stretched his right arm back over the top of the couch. But instead of putting the arm closest to Kurt back over the top of the couch, he left it at his side. And as their eyes met, Kurt was surprised to see an unfamiliar warmth in Puck’s gaze.
“Better?” When Puck spoke, Kurt could tell that he was genuinely concerned.
“Much.” Kurt didn’t say anything else, instead he just turned back to the screen as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
When Kurt looked back at the television screen, he found himself staring at a small doll head with bright red, curly hair fanned out like a fiery halo around it. It was stuck to a stainless steel door almost as if it were a present. And as Dexter flicked the tiny head, Kurt realized that, despite what had happened with the blanket, he was a little worried about what was in the freezer.
So worried in fact that he found himself unconsciously leaning towards Puck.
And when Dexter flung open the freezer door to reveal the rest of the doll’s body cut into sections and tied up with neat little red bows and a tiny mirror in one hand, Kurt felt his mouth fall open.
The next thing Kurt knew, the credits were rolling, a spunky Cuban rhythm a serious contrast to what he’d just seen. It was just so…
“Well?” Puck was looking at him expectantly.
The credits were still going, but the music had changed to something more somber and ominous.
And despite the shock of what he’d just seen, Puck’s excitement was contagious, and Kurt just couldn’t stop himself. “What happens next?” Kurt was smiling slightly, a touch of expectation in his eyes.
Obviously please with Kurt’s response, Puck just grinned as he hit “Next” on the episode menu screen.
As the next episode, “Crocodile,” began, Puck slouched down into the couch, his shoulder pressing into Kurt’s. The slight touch, so comfortable and natural, caused a tiny smile to tug at the corners of Kurt’s mouth. And in an effort to hide it, he bit down on his lower lip, settling into Puck’s shoulder as he did.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Hey, did you see -” Mercedes was standing next to Kurt’s locker, her face anxious.
“That Quinn is back?” Kurt cut her off mid-sentence. He just did not think he could handle hearing that question (or any variation thereof) again today.
Because ever since setting foot on the school’s parking lot that morning, Kurt had heard nothing but whispers about Quinn. He’d heard five different versions of what had happened at his party, none of them even remotely close to what had occurred. He’d also heard (what he hoped were) wild tales about Puck storming into the hospital, threatening nurses and doctors alike, demanding to see Quinn and how Finn had stood gallantly by her side. And there were other rumors as well, lots of other rumors.
But when it came down to it, there was only one that Kurt believed with any certainty.
And that was that, after a week off, Quinn was back.
Of course, the only reason he believed that one was because he’d seen her earlier.
“Yes, I saw.” Even to his own ears, Kurt knew he sounded grim.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy Quinn was doing better. Because he was, he really was. But it also terrified him. And it was a terror that had managed to seep into the very depths of his being, twisting and curling itself around his muscles and nerves. But the thing that bothered him the most about her presence was that it left him unsure of where it left him with Puck. As melodramatic as that sounded, Kurt had no other way to describe how Quinn’s return made him feel.
Because whenever he saw her walking through the halls or in class, Kurt immediately thought of Puck and the time they’d spent together. And those spasms of memory would cause tiny jolts of pain to shoot through his body. It was a pain that spoke of heartbreak and longing, loss and the intoxicating promise of possibility.
And Quinn’s presence made Kurt realize just how fragile the thing he shared with Puck really was because… she could so easily take all of it away from him.
Kurt wasn’t stupid; he knew that Puck cared for her beyond the thrills of a one-time fling. That much was evident in the way he looked at the blonde. But over the past two weeks (had it really been only two weeks?), something had begun to grow between Kurt and Puck. It was tenuous and incredibly confusing, but…
Kurt wasn’t ready to let it go.
Even if he still didn’t know what it was.
And so, it was with great trepidation that he accepted Quinn’s return.
“So… what do you think is gonna happen?” Mercedes’ voice was low, but it lacked the conspiratorial tone with which she normally relayed gossip. And Kurt knew that that was because this time, the drama was too close to home. Oh, she hadn’t had any problem telling the entire glee club that Finn wasn’t the one who’d gotten Quinn pregnant. But this was another thing altogether. And thankfully, she seemed to understand that.
Closing his locker door, Kurt looked into his best friend’s eyes. And even though he knew she was referring to Puck, Quinn, and Finn, Kurt could only think of himself, of the time he'd spent with Puck and the tiny unknowable thing that was growing between them. And as he thought of that, Kurt realized something...
He hadn’t told Mercedes a single thing about what was going on with Puck.
But more importantly, Kurt realized that he didn’t want to tell her about it.
Mercedes was his best friend, and he didn’t want to tell her about the kiss or Puck sleeping over on his couch. He didn’t want to tell her about the Def Leppard t-shirt, Dexter, or the Chinese food. Why that was, he didn’t know, and that bothered Kurt.
A lot.
After all, Mercedes was his best friend, his other half and ever other possible cliché imaginable. And since becoming friends, they’d spent so much tome together going to the mall and out to the movies and things like that. Together they’d bonded over being outcasts and the inability to fit in and they’d found their own little niche together. But now, after everything between them, Kurt couldn’t even bring himself to mention that he didn’t hate Puck, let alone anything else him.
And in an effort to stall for time, Kurt reached out and laced his arm through Mercedes’, pulling her close to his side. Her question was still hanging in the air, but he had his own thoughts and worries to contend with. And truthfully, even if he could devote all of his attention to his best friend’s question, he knew he wouldn’t have had an answer for her.
So rather than try to come up with some profound response, Kurt sighed deeply before speaking. And when he finally did, his voice was weary and tired. His words, simple and to the point, satisfied Mercedes’ question and summed up his own worries at the same time. “I wish I knew.”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Ok, guys. I think we’ve got the song down pretty well. So I think we’re ready to try some choreography. I’d like for the girls to stand on the right, boys on the left. Rachel…” Mr. Schuester’s voice droned on and on, laying out an all too familiar pattern of positions.
As Kurt moved to the back row between Matt and Mike, he wondered if just maybe Schu had done that on purpose. It was almost liked he’d thought that having everyone stand in familiar spots doing re-hashed choreography would make them feel safe and secure.
But really, it wasn’t just about the recycled dance moves. In fact, the whole let’s-create-a-warm-and-welcoming-environment mode of thinking had been in effect since glee practice started fifteen minutes ago.
Everyone, especially Mr. Schuester, had gone out of their way to dance around (pardon the pun) Quinn.
Brittany was glued to her side, occasionally attempting to fluff some life into Quinn’s defeated blonde curls. And Quinn just sat next to her, closing her eyes tightly as if the tiny touches caused her physical pain in some way. She’d wince and wrap her arms around her stomach protectively, as if trying to protect herself.
And when she wasn’t flinching away from Brittany, Quinn looked awful. Her normally shiny hair was dull and pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her wasted frame was engulfed by a dress that had once served to hide her swollen belly. It didn’t take more than a cursory glance to tell that she should have been home in bed and not at school.
But as practice continued on, everyone did their part to try and make Quinn feel welcome. Mike even rubbed her shoulders while Artie showed off a new wheelchair trick that elicited a small, watery smile from her.
Kurt tried to think of something to say to Quinn, but every time he looked over towards her, his thoughts drifted back to Puck.
Since Quinn had walked into the choir room, everyone had ignored Puck. Even Tinkles had looked away when Puck had stepped into the room a few minutes after Quinn. Kurt had wanted to catch Puck’s attention, to acknowledge what had happened the night before, but Puck had been totally and completely, one hundred percent focused on Quinn. So much so that Kurt had felt as if he could see every last bit of Puck straining to be near her.
And that cut Kurt deeper than he cared to admit.
Unable to stand the sight of Puck staring at Quinn any longer, Kurt turned away. But when he did, the sight that met Kurt’s gaze was much worse.
Because, as it turned out, Kurt wasn’t the only one who had noticed Puck staring at Quinn.
Across the room, Finn was standing next to Artie, who was practicing his wheelchair version of pivots and stomps. Finn, however, wasn’t moving. Instead, he was standing stock still as he glared at Puck. And Kurt knew that if he could see Finn’s eyes, they’d be narrowed in anger.
But what neither Kurt nor Finn saw was that Quinn was growing increasingly upset. They’d both been too focused on other people to realize what was going on until she sobbed, “I’m sorry, but I can’t…” and ran toward the door. Brittany quickly followed her, disappearing into the hall, leaving everyone stunned into shocked silence.
As the door slammed shut, Kurt didn’t need to look around the room to know that something was going to happen. Where the room was filled with solidarity and support only a few moments ago, it was now filled with a cloud of tension so thick Kurt swore he could feel it crackling just beneath his skin.
And as Finn advanced on Puck, who was still staring at the door, Kurt realized that he was unprepared for the storm that was about to fall.
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.
- The opening dialogue is from the series premiere of Dexter.
- To the readers and the reviewers your comments make me smile, laugh and everything in between. But most of all, they make me want this story to be as good as it can possibly be. Thank you so much for the continued support.
- Quack: Thank you for being an amazing beta and friend. I couldn’t do this without you. :duck:
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan
Part: Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
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.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
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 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
“Tonight’s the night. And it’s going to happen again and again. Has to happen.” Michael C. Hall’s voice filled Kurt’s basement, seeming to swirl in the air like a thick fog. And for just a moment, Kurt felt self-conscious as the words washed over him. Oh, Kurt knew that Dexter wasn’t speaking to him about Puck, that he was talking about killing someone. But the words and their possibility made the hairs on the back of Kurt’s neck stand up nonetheless.
“Pass the soy sauce?” Puck, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it ironic at all.
Mentally berating himself for being ridiculous, Kurt leaned forward and plucked the half-empty bottle off of the small table. And as he did, he took great care not to drop his plate on the floor. Because he had absolutely no desire to clean Chinese food off of the small accent rug he’d just purchased.
As he sat back, the rug safe, Kurt handed the sauce over to Puck. And even though he was holding the bottle out to Puck, his attention was split between balancing his dinner and the television screen, because after that opening, he was intrigued.
Dexter was driving down a crowded street, talking about his love for Miami and Cuban food. The electric sights and sounds of a hot Miami night had pulled Kurt’s thoughts away from the bottle of sauce that was still in his hand. But when Puck’s fingertips slid over Kurt’s as he reached for the bottle, all of Kurt’s attention was pulled towards the contact.
He froze instantly, aware of Puck in a way he hadn’t been only moments before. Somehow, the other boy felt more… real now that they’d touched.
Puck was no longer just an idea; he was real person who could touch and be touched. And pressed against Kurt’s skin, Puck’s fingers were soft, tentative as if he were unsure of what he was doing. Unlike the times they’d touched before, this was an accident. Neither of them had planned it; it was a pure and honest brush of fingers that held no deeper meaning or significance. And that terrified Kurt while thrilling him at the same time. Because as Puck’s hand covered Kurt’s, he realized that he wanted more. But of what, Kurt was scared to admit. Even to himself.
And before Kurt could stop himself, he looked over at Puck.
When he turned, he hadn’t thought about what he’d find. Because much to Kurt’s surprise, Puck was staring at him, and there was something akin to confusion in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he was unsure or afraid. Why that was, Kurt didn’t know, but he could tell that Puck was asking for reassurance nonetheless.
With their fingertips still touching, Kurt smiled softly, shyly. Across from him, Puck stared back, the apprehension draining slowly from his eyes. And for just a second, Kurt allowed his hand to remain under Puck’s. He allowed himself a moment to just feel.
Which Kurt found wasn’t difficult because all of his attention was zeroed in on what he was experiencing. Against the back of Kurt’s knuckles, Puck’s fingertips were warm and heavily calloused from years of strumming his guitar. The rough skin against his own smooth hand caused Kurt’s breath to quicken and the tips of his ears to burn.
And even though Kurt hated to do it, he pulled his fingers out from under Puck’s, dropping his gaze as he did so. He wanted to leave his hand under the other boy’s, he really did, but Kurt wasn’t sure he could handle what that meant. After all, he still felt for Finn. Sure, they may have been changing, but they were still there. So he’s pulled away, looking down at his food as he did.
But even though his face was no longer turned towards the other boy, Kurt was still trying to sneak a peek at him. And out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could see Puck shaking the bottle over his lo mein and fried rice, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he were trying to hold back a smile.
Kurt instantly found himself wanting to ask Puck what he was smiling about. But he quickly decided against it, figuring that he might not want to know the answer. So rather than say anything, Kurt turned back to his food and picked up his chopsticks. Working them with a skill and precision that had taken years to come by, Kurt twisted the bamboo sticks around his lo mein and pulled out a few noodles. And while Kurt delicately lifted them to his lips, Puck savagely speared a chunk of chicken with his fork.
When they’d first ladled out their dinner, each taking a little of everything, Kurt had offered Puck a pair of chopsticks. But Puck had refused on the grounds that they were for wusses. Personally though, Kurt had been pretty sure that Puck just didn’t know how to use them. But now, watching as Puck shoveled food into his mouth with a fork, Kurt tried to imagine the other boy using chopsticks.
And it just didn’t fit.
So he kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes as Puck stabbed at his plate.
Just short of an hour later, Kurt and Puck were both settled back into the couch, having placed their empty plates among the half-empty food cartons on the small coffee table. They’d paused Dexter for a few minutes for a bathroom break and to get refills on their drinks. And somehow, when they’d resituated themselves on the couch, they’d ended up much closer than when they’d started out.
Unlike before, Puck was sitting almost in the middle of the white sofa, legs spread wide and his arms across the back of the couch. Kurt had sat to his left, his legs pulled up underneath himself, and they were so close that their knees were touching ever so slightly. And with Puck’s arms draped over the back of the couch, Kurt almost felt as if Puck had his arm around him. It was comfortable and left him feeling content as the murderous story played out on the screen before them.
For the most part, Kurt had been able to handle the grisly show, but when a severed head came flying across the screen, Kurt gave an involuntary shudder. At this moment, Puck looked over, a slight trace of concern in his voice.
“You cold?” Puck had asked a question, but he didn’t wait for Kurt to respond before hopping off the couch.
The second Puck left his side, Kurt wished he was back on the couch next to him. Because now, unlike when he’d shivered at the TV show, he did feel cold. But Kurt didn’t just feel cold.
No, he felt alone as well.
But before Kurt could say a word, Puck plopped back down on the couch next to him, Kurt’s mother’s blanket in his hands.
“Here…” Puck’s voice was low and slightly distracted as he unfolded the soft grey throw.
As Puck spread out the blanket, Kurt stared at him in amazement. Part of Kurt wanted to ask Puck what he was doing, but a much larger part of him was afraid that if he so much as breathed too hard, Puck would disappear. Because it all seemed too good to be true. But then again, since sectionals, everything had changed.
And for the very first time, Kurt realized that not all of those changes were bad.
Marveling at that realization, Kurt just watched Puck in amazement and a bit of worry. Because his newly found knowledge opened up so many doors, doors that Kurt wasn’t sure if he was ready to walk through or not. And when the blanket fell across Kurt’s lap, he reached out and pulled the edge closer to himself. Kurt wasn’t really cold but filled with uncertainty, and he craved the familiarity and comfort of his mother’s gift.
Sliding his hands over the yarn that had been lovingly worked into intricate patterns, Kurt felt himself relax ever so slightly. “Thank you, I…” Kurt’s voice trailed off as his clear blue eyes went wide as saucers.
Puck was sitting back down on the couch, pulling the other half of the blanket over his own legs. And after settling in, Puck turned to Kurt as he stretched his right arm back over the top of the couch. But instead of putting the arm closest to Kurt back over the top of the couch, he left it at his side. And as their eyes met, Kurt was surprised to see an unfamiliar warmth in Puck’s gaze.
“Better?” When Puck spoke, Kurt could tell that he was genuinely concerned.
“Much.” Kurt didn’t say anything else, instead he just turned back to the screen as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
When Kurt looked back at the television screen, he found himself staring at a small doll head with bright red, curly hair fanned out like a fiery halo around it. It was stuck to a stainless steel door almost as if it were a present. And as Dexter flicked the tiny head, Kurt realized that, despite what had happened with the blanket, he was a little worried about what was in the freezer.
So worried in fact that he found himself unconsciously leaning towards Puck.
And when Dexter flung open the freezer door to reveal the rest of the doll’s body cut into sections and tied up with neat little red bows and a tiny mirror in one hand, Kurt felt his mouth fall open.
The next thing Kurt knew, the credits were rolling, a spunky Cuban rhythm a serious contrast to what he’d just seen. It was just so…
“Well?” Puck was looking at him expectantly.
The credits were still going, but the music had changed to something more somber and ominous.
And despite the shock of what he’d just seen, Puck’s excitement was contagious, and Kurt just couldn’t stop himself. “What happens next?” Kurt was smiling slightly, a touch of expectation in his eyes.
Obviously please with Kurt’s response, Puck just grinned as he hit “Next” on the episode menu screen.
As the next episode, “Crocodile,” began, Puck slouched down into the couch, his shoulder pressing into Kurt’s. The slight touch, so comfortable and natural, caused a tiny smile to tug at the corners of Kurt’s mouth. And in an effort to hide it, he bit down on his lower lip, settling into Puck’s shoulder as he did.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Hey, did you see -” Mercedes was standing next to Kurt’s locker, her face anxious.
“That Quinn is back?” Kurt cut her off mid-sentence. He just did not think he could handle hearing that question (or any variation thereof) again today.
Because ever since setting foot on the school’s parking lot that morning, Kurt had heard nothing but whispers about Quinn. He’d heard five different versions of what had happened at his party, none of them even remotely close to what had occurred. He’d also heard (what he hoped were) wild tales about Puck storming into the hospital, threatening nurses and doctors alike, demanding to see Quinn and how Finn had stood gallantly by her side. And there were other rumors as well, lots of other rumors.
But when it came down to it, there was only one that Kurt believed with any certainty.
And that was that, after a week off, Quinn was back.
Of course, the only reason he believed that one was because he’d seen her earlier.
“Yes, I saw.” Even to his own ears, Kurt knew he sounded grim.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy Quinn was doing better. Because he was, he really was. But it also terrified him. And it was a terror that had managed to seep into the very depths of his being, twisting and curling itself around his muscles and nerves. But the thing that bothered him the most about her presence was that it left him unsure of where it left him with Puck. As melodramatic as that sounded, Kurt had no other way to describe how Quinn’s return made him feel.
Because whenever he saw her walking through the halls or in class, Kurt immediately thought of Puck and the time they’d spent together. And those spasms of memory would cause tiny jolts of pain to shoot through his body. It was a pain that spoke of heartbreak and longing, loss and the intoxicating promise of possibility.
And Quinn’s presence made Kurt realize just how fragile the thing he shared with Puck really was because… she could so easily take all of it away from him.
Kurt wasn’t stupid; he knew that Puck cared for her beyond the thrills of a one-time fling. That much was evident in the way he looked at the blonde. But over the past two weeks (had it really been only two weeks?), something had begun to grow between Kurt and Puck. It was tenuous and incredibly confusing, but…
Kurt wasn’t ready to let it go.
Even if he still didn’t know what it was.
And so, it was with great trepidation that he accepted Quinn’s return.
“So… what do you think is gonna happen?” Mercedes’ voice was low, but it lacked the conspiratorial tone with which she normally relayed gossip. And Kurt knew that that was because this time, the drama was too close to home. Oh, she hadn’t had any problem telling the entire glee club that Finn wasn’t the one who’d gotten Quinn pregnant. But this was another thing altogether. And thankfully, she seemed to understand that.
Closing his locker door, Kurt looked into his best friend’s eyes. And even though he knew she was referring to Puck, Quinn, and Finn, Kurt could only think of himself, of the time he'd spent with Puck and the tiny unknowable thing that was growing between them. And as he thought of that, Kurt realized something...
He hadn’t told Mercedes a single thing about what was going on with Puck.
But more importantly, Kurt realized that he didn’t want to tell her about it.
Mercedes was his best friend, and he didn’t want to tell her about the kiss or Puck sleeping over on his couch. He didn’t want to tell her about the Def Leppard t-shirt, Dexter, or the Chinese food. Why that was, he didn’t know, and that bothered Kurt.
A lot.
After all, Mercedes was his best friend, his other half and ever other possible cliché imaginable. And since becoming friends, they’d spent so much tome together going to the mall and out to the movies and things like that. Together they’d bonded over being outcasts and the inability to fit in and they’d found their own little niche together. But now, after everything between them, Kurt couldn’t even bring himself to mention that he didn’t hate Puck, let alone anything else him.
And in an effort to stall for time, Kurt reached out and laced his arm through Mercedes’, pulling her close to his side. Her question was still hanging in the air, but he had his own thoughts and worries to contend with. And truthfully, even if he could devote all of his attention to his best friend’s question, he knew he wouldn’t have had an answer for her.
So rather than try to come up with some profound response, Kurt sighed deeply before speaking. And when he finally did, his voice was weary and tired. His words, simple and to the point, satisfied Mercedes’ question and summed up his own worries at the same time. “I wish I knew.”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Ok, guys. I think we’ve got the song down pretty well. So I think we’re ready to try some choreography. I’d like for the girls to stand on the right, boys on the left. Rachel…” Mr. Schuester’s voice droned on and on, laying out an all too familiar pattern of positions.
As Kurt moved to the back row between Matt and Mike, he wondered if just maybe Schu had done that on purpose. It was almost liked he’d thought that having everyone stand in familiar spots doing re-hashed choreography would make them feel safe and secure.
But really, it wasn’t just about the recycled dance moves. In fact, the whole let’s-create-a-warm-and-welcoming-environment mode of thinking had been in effect since glee practice started fifteen minutes ago.
Everyone, especially Mr. Schuester, had gone out of their way to dance around (pardon the pun) Quinn.
Brittany was glued to her side, occasionally attempting to fluff some life into Quinn’s defeated blonde curls. And Quinn just sat next to her, closing her eyes tightly as if the tiny touches caused her physical pain in some way. She’d wince and wrap her arms around her stomach protectively, as if trying to protect herself.
And when she wasn’t flinching away from Brittany, Quinn looked awful. Her normally shiny hair was dull and pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her wasted frame was engulfed by a dress that had once served to hide her swollen belly. It didn’t take more than a cursory glance to tell that she should have been home in bed and not at school.
But as practice continued on, everyone did their part to try and make Quinn feel welcome. Mike even rubbed her shoulders while Artie showed off a new wheelchair trick that elicited a small, watery smile from her.
Kurt tried to think of something to say to Quinn, but every time he looked over towards her, his thoughts drifted back to Puck.
Since Quinn had walked into the choir room, everyone had ignored Puck. Even Tinkles had looked away when Puck had stepped into the room a few minutes after Quinn. Kurt had wanted to catch Puck’s attention, to acknowledge what had happened the night before, but Puck had been totally and completely, one hundred percent focused on Quinn. So much so that Kurt had felt as if he could see every last bit of Puck straining to be near her.
And that cut Kurt deeper than he cared to admit.
Unable to stand the sight of Puck staring at Quinn any longer, Kurt turned away. But when he did, the sight that met Kurt’s gaze was much worse.
Because, as it turned out, Kurt wasn’t the only one who had noticed Puck staring at Quinn.
Across the room, Finn was standing next to Artie, who was practicing his wheelchair version of pivots and stomps. Finn, however, wasn’t moving. Instead, he was standing stock still as he glared at Puck. And Kurt knew that if he could see Finn’s eyes, they’d be narrowed in anger.
But what neither Kurt nor Finn saw was that Quinn was growing increasingly upset. They’d both been too focused on other people to realize what was going on until she sobbed, “I’m sorry, but I can’t…” and ran toward the door. Brittany quickly followed her, disappearing into the hall, leaving everyone stunned into shocked silence.
As the door slammed shut, Kurt didn’t need to look around the room to know that something was going to happen. Where the room was filled with solidarity and support only a few moments ago, it was now filled with a cloud of tension so thick Kurt swore he could feel it crackling just beneath his skin.
And as Finn advanced on Puck, who was still staring at the door, Kurt realized that he was unprepared for the storm that was about to fall.
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.
- The opening dialogue is from the series premiere of Dexter.
- To the readers and the reviewers your comments make me smile, laugh and everything in between. But most of all, they make me want this story to be as good as it can possibly be. Thank you so much for the continued support.
- Quack: Thank you for being an amazing beta and friend. I couldn’t do this without you. :duck:
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan