Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the song used in this fic, just the plot bunny.
Warning: Alcoholism. Minor character death and mild slash in later chapters.
Summary: Four-part drabble fic. A tragedy occurs in Puck's life and Kurt is there to hold him together. Minor character death. Kurt/Puck
A/N: I think in cannon Puck's dad ran away but for the sake of this fic his father died when he was ten in a car crash.
Song: Whiskey Lullaby- Brad Paisley
Whiskey On Her Breath
The rumours flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
I sighed as I walked into the living room to find her there on the couch, a bottle of spirit, Whiskey I think this time, hanging loosely from her hand and threatening to spill onto the already stained carpet as she snored heavily.
It had been the same every day since dad's accident. She'd get drunk and I'd end up cleaning up after her, carrying her up to her room and putting her to bed. I'd get my homework done sometimes while she was sleeping, if she hadn't completely trashed the house while I was at school, leaving it for me to tidy and clean, that was. I'd make myself something to eat with what little we had in, before trying to get at least a few hours of sleep before the hell began.
I set my bag on the counter in the kitchen before walking back into the living room. It was at times like these that I thanked God that my mom was so light, if only because it made it easier for me to carry. In reality though, I knew she was unnaturally thin, all skin and bones and alcohol. She only ate when I was there to make something for her, and even then it would depend on what sort of state the alcohol would leave her in. If she was angry I was likely to end up wearing the food or cleaning it up off the floor, throwing away yet another plate or bowl after she'd thrown it at me.
If she'd mixed drinks, as it was obvious she had today, then she would most likely be too sick to eat anything when she woke up at some stupid hour in the morning. The only time I could get her to eat something was when she was crying into my shoulder as she apologised over and over again for putting me through this, and promising to never drink again. I learned pretty quickly that those moments when she was crying were the only time I had even a glimpse of my real mom back and cherished each and every one of them, not matter how much it hurt to see her that way, no matter how much it killed me when she went back to screaming and shouting or being sick.
Once I got her up to her room, I headed back down to the kitchen to make myself a simple grilled cheese sandwich and make sure I had everything I would need for when my mom woke up, before I settled at the kitchen table to do as much of my homework as I could.
I heard banging followed by the first retching noises that told me my mom was awake and with a sigh I set my homework aside, thankful that I'd been able to finish the Spanish work for Mr. Schue, before heading up to my mom's room, bucket and cleaning tools in my hand. Not for the first time I wondered how long it would be before she goes too far one night and never wakes up, the relief i felt at the thought scaring me.
Until the night
So this idea has been floating around my head for months but I've only now had the time and the patience to write it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always your comments and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated.