A/N: Alright, this story is twisted and written for my own pure amusement. I just hope it can make someone else smile a little too. Tell me if it did.
No dweebs were fatally hurt during the making of this fic.
Kurt could hear nothing except the rapid, almost painful beating of his own heart. Nothing, not even the cries of the battle – the wounded, the victorious, the ones on the warpath. The adrenaline made his knees tremble, his hands grasp for something sturdy to hold on to. He had lost his comrades in a shower of icy bullets. He had tried to save her. Mercedes. He had turned back as soon as he realized that she was not by his side any longer, but her crumpled form on the ground had shouted for him to go on, to save himself when he was still able to. He had stood there, helplessly watched her pained features until enemy fire almost grazed his ear. He ran, the "save yourself" ringing in his ears.
Kurt pressed himself to the wall, trying to calm down, clutching the only weapon he got in his shivering hands. He was alone. He was going to die. Later on, someone would find his mutilated body, decaying on the snow-covered concrete. He was never going to see New York, he was never going to be kissed by a boy, he was never going to have a boyfriend and... he was going to die a complete virgin. Devastation hit him hard in the chest and he felt completely and utterly miserable, fear rippling through his body like waves. He sunk to the ground when his legs would not hold him any longer, pressing his hands to his ears to shut out the now prominent screams. He could have sworn that he heard Finn's voice somewhere, Rachel's high-pitched squeaks of terror and Santana's bloodthirsty roar when she went down fighting. It was all useless, he knew it. They could never win this war. It was a lost cause. He had known it before it started, but there had been no other way out. Artie had tugged gently at his elbow and said "at least we went down fighting" before saluting the group and lead them out on the battlefield, away from the temporarily safe confines of McKinley High.
A loud thud made him flinch and open his eyes. The sight of an unconscious Jacob Ben Israel made his entire body freeze. His orange fro was a stark contrast to the white snow. He looked like a sad clown. A sad, very ugly and very dead clown. Kurt stifled a sob and firmly shut his eyes again.
He did not know how long he sat there, growing cold, curled into a small pile, pressed into the wall behind him, before he heard footsteps closing in. They were running, determined, and whoever it was only slipped a couple of times on the icy ground. This is it, he thought. This is the end. Any second now, that person would turn this corner, raise his or hers arm and... A blurry form practically flew past him, feet skidding on the slippery concrete. Kurt held his breath, but could not stop the undignified squeak leaving his lips. He was not ready to die.
"Please, please, don't kill me...!"
A pair of large and strong, too strong, hands formed around his upper arms, gripping him and he could do nothing but yell out in panic.
"Don't! I don't want to die, I can't die, I...!"
"Hummel, jeez, shut up before they find us!"
The voice was aggravated and out of breath, but so familiar that Kurt almost cried in relief to see his former long term tormentor. His eyelids fluttered open, clear blue green eyes glazed over because of the cold and before him, on his knees, sat Noah Puckerman. There was a swelling beneath his right eye and his lower lip bled.
"Puck, you're bleeding", he whispered weakly, not even realizing that he was holding on to his shirt just as firmly as Puck held onto him.
"It's nothing", the taller boy insisted and something tugged on the corner of his mouth. It could have been the beginning of a smug smile, something similar to "you should have seen the other guy" reflecting in his hazel eyes. "How about you? Are you hurt?"
"N-no, I don't think so..." Kurt stammered. "But Puck, how did you get here? Where are the others? Mercedes, did you see her?"
"I'm not going to kid you, it's not pretty out there. Most of us have found refugee in the Cheerios' storage room. Mercedes is there, but she's going to get some mighty bruises."
Kurt exhaled, nearly laughing with relief. He had thought that it would have been the end of her, when she had been hit and fallen. Though, has soon as that weight had been lifted from his shoulder, another concern took its place.
"Why are you still out here? Why aren't you hiding?"
Puck simply squeezed his arms and that half-smile returned.
"Couldn't leave you out here, could I, Porcelain?"
Kurt's eyes widened remarkably when he fully understood what he meant. Puck had... He had risked his own life to come and fetch him, to save him from a most gruesome death.
"You came... for me?"
Puck only nodded. His chest swelled with overwhelming gratitude and affection for the boy before him; so careless of his own life to save his. It was of course an incredibly reckless and insanely idiotic thing to do – abandon safety when he did not have to – but at the same time; too heroic to not appreciate. Kurt hurled himself into Puck's safe arms, burying his face in his neck.
"You brave, brave Neanderthal..." he murmured gently, grasping every part of him which he could get a hold of.
Puck held him just as tightly.
"Yeah, I'm kinda badass like that", he replied with a chuckle before carefully shrugging his clingy company off. "Are you ready? We're going to make a run for it."
Kurt swallowed hard, nodding stiffly. He was never going to be ready, he might as well get it over with. His saviour nodded too, those strong hand pulling him up onto his feet. Adjusting his clothes with trembling fingers, brushing off snow from his behind and legs, thinking that he would have a moment to prepare himself, to resign to his fate. There was no such moment. Puck simply grabbed him by the hand and jerked him out in to the tempestuous battlefield. It was an awful contrast to the, in comparison, serene place behind the building. He could hear all the yelling, the crying, the evil laughter so much clearer, so loud that he thought his head would explode. Snowballs, hard as rocks, flew constantly through the air, smashing through windows and upon cars, straight into people's faces, chests and backs. Their classmates fell around them as they ran. Kurt could barely breathe. His feet slipped and slid beneath him, but every time he thought he was going down, Puck yanked him on his feet again, guiding them through the parking lot. His arm hurt from how firmly he was dragging him, but he did not care. All the thought of was how badly he wanted to get out of there alive so he could see all the people he loved again.
The storage room mentioned was suddenly in sight. Kurt forced his body to take longer steps, positive that maybe, just maybe they could make it, maybe...!
Something hit him so hard in the back that he tripped over with such force that not even Puck had the chance to help him go on. He collided painfully with the icy ground, his palms scratched open when they met with the gravel. The open wounds burned, but he could barely feel it. His back hurt too much for him to feel anything else.
Through his watery eyes, he saw a pair of blurry knees next to him, felt that same pair of strong hands gently turn him over so he did not have to eat the asphalt. He cried out in pain when his back made contact with the ground.
"I'm going to fucking kill Karofsky...!" Puck murmured darkly before cupping his cheeks. "Hey, Porcelain, are you okay? Can you move?"
Shaking his head in despair, Kurt parted his lips to speak.
"You... You need to go on without me, Noah. Leave me. Save yourself."
"Shut up! That's bullshit and you know it. I'm not leaving you, not here!"
"You have to, before they get you too..."
"I won't! You can't make me!"
"Noah, please! I can't move, but you can! It's not too late for you!"
He tried to convey the desperation in his tear filled eyes, but it was wasted on the determined boy who sat next to him.
"I'm going to carry you."
"I said; I'm going to carry you", Puck repeated and without further ado, placed his arm beneath Kurt's knees and his other one around his back, ignoring the thinner boy's weak protests.
"You can't carry me, you're making yourself an easy target!"
"Well, I'm not leaving you, so do you have any other bright idea?"
That sure shut him up. The way up on their feet was wobbly and for a panicking moment or two, Kurt thought that they would go crashing down once again, but Puck managed after adjusting his grip around him and off they went, jogging the last distance towards the storage room. He felt like a damsel in distress with his face carefully hidden in Puck's atrocious leather jacket (which Kurt secretly thought he looked really good in). Puck's chest rumbled when he cried out.
"Open up! Open up the fucking the door!"
He registered how a door was flung up so hard it almost jumped off its hinges before he was embraced by darkness. A loud BANG was heard when the door was shut.
Puck's knees buckled beneath him and they went down on the wooden floor, entangled with each other, panting and completely exhausted. Kurt was leaning his head against Puck's clavicle, too out of it to actually comprehend that he was being held ever so gently. They were safe. They had made it. It was silent in the storage room. He could make out the other Gleeks' shapes; Quinn and Sam held onto each other, Finn and Rachel too, Mike and Tina doing pretty much the same thing while Mercedes carefully tended to one of Artie's bruises. Santana and Brittany was engaged in a rather heated post-trauma make out session upon one of the mattresses, making the whole "limited space" thing rather awkward. He noticed how Finn's eyes kept darting towards them and how he was constantly slapped on the chest by his dwarf girlfriend. Though, Kurt could feel nothing but absolute relief.
"Kurt, are you alright?" Mercedes wondered with worry in her tone.
He nodded weakly, still trying to regain a regular heartbeat.
"He got hit", Puck breathed out. "Karofsky had made a fucking iceball."
Disgruntled murmurs and insults passed around the room.
"Noah... Noah saved me."
"It's going to leave a terrible bruise, but you will be perfectly alright, dear. You can put your shirt back on."
Kurt winced when he buttoned his shirt once again and the fabric made contact with the sensitive skin on his back. The nurse's office had been packed with victims of the cruellest snowball fight since the notorious Snow Day of Death in -97 since third period and Kurt, with all his luck, had been the last to be tended too. He sat upon the bunk, his legs aching from all the running, and tried to muster up enough strength to force him out to his car and drive home.
He jumped in shock when he noticed Puck in the door opening. He had not heard him come in. A light smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'll be fine. Just a bruise and some scratches. Nothing broken."
Nodding, Puck shoved his hands down his jeans pockets and took a few steps further into the room.
The silence was incredibly awkward and Kurt squirmed where he sat. He knew that he was supposed to say something, but the only thing that he could think of was...
Puck looked honestly surprised.
"For saving me."
The older boy looked at him quietly for a couple of seconds and Kurt shrunk in embarrassment.
"No worries, Porcelain. I'm sure that you would've done the same for me... if, well, if it was physically possible, that is."
Kurt nodded, carefully sliding down upon the floor. His feet hurt.
"Do... do you need a lift or something?" he wondered. That was the least he could do.
"I've got a car."
"Oh. Uhm. Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow..."
He made a beeline for the door, smiling carefully when he went past him and... Puck had taken a hold of his wrist. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"You know..." the jock said slowly. "Whenever some damsel in distress gets rescued in the movies... the hero gets a kiss."
Kurt could do nothing but smile when he turned towards his hero.
"I guess that's the least I could do."