The Untitled Wound
Spoilers: Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.
Summary: Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.
The Untitled Wound
Kurt hisses with anticipation as he hears the soft threads of stickiness slowly being pealed off from his skin before the cool air of the bathroom rushes his skin and the stitches there. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath as he looks to the ceiling; he does everything he can to avoid seeing what his wound looks like. His eyes do flash open though when he feels something warm against his skin. Kurt lets out a breathy chuckle as Puck touches his sensitive skin, the tan and rough fingers spreading around, circling the wound until he stills his hand.
"T-that's a lot of stitches." Puck comments as he leans closer to observe the wound more. "And a crazy amount of dirt."
Kurt snaps his head down and stops, his eyes spotting the wound. He hadn't seen where the wound was before, but he's sure that it looks loads better now that the stitches are in; there are seven of them. Each stitch makes Kurt feel like throwing up, but the sore red area around it with the swollen stitched area is what's making him go overboard. Before turning away for a breath, he can see the difference between his uncovered skin and the covered skin, a nice square imprint of the distinct layers of dirt and cleanliness there.
"Just a bit." Kurt mutters as he averts his eyes with a crinkled face to look over Puck's shoulder.
Puck sighs and flattens his hands onto Kurt's wound and lets his fingers spread out and touch Kurt's visible ribs. "I'm sorry that I didn't protect you from this one too." Puck's fingers slowly start moving again, carefully massaging the skin around the wound. "If I were a bit faster, or pulled you down instead of pushing you . . . you wouldn't have this."
"Or it could have been worse." Kurt says softly as he looks down to meet the boys eyes, but Puck's eyes are unmoving from Kurt's body. "We don't know what could have happened. That whole day . . . it was unpredictable. As far as I know, me getting this is the only way that you saved me." Kurt reaches down and places a shaky hand on top of Puck's unmoving one. "Please don't feel guilty about this. This will never be your fault."
Puck sighs and leans forward, touching his forehead to their hands. "I'm trying to believe that, but I can't see it that way right now. Can I . . . let me stay in this guilt for a bit. I think I kind of need it."
Kurt nods and lets out a shaky breath. "You have one week."
Puck pulls away from their hands and looks up to find Kurt smiling down at him. "Give or take."
Kurt chuckles as Puck pulls away, both of their hands dropping from Kurt's body. Puck leans over and pushes one of the wash cloths into the warm water, swirling it for a few seconds before removing it and twisting the cloth to drain the water through his fingers. He looks back to Kurt and smiles nervously as he brings the cloth back.
"My sister-" Puck starts as he presses the warm wet cloth gently against the edge of where the the bandage was, softly starting with the thin layer of indent there. "Is one that always gets hurt. I've lost count of how many times she's tripped, or tried jumping off the roof." Puck glances up at his own words briefly to see Kurt's shocked face before his eyes return to Kurt's body. "She never got bad enough to be hospitalized, but I always had to deal with scratches, bumps, and bruises. I sort of learned how to clean up things. The only new thing is stitches." Puck chuckles with a quick look to Kurt. "Although it seems to be the same as a bad bruise I think. Just soft-" Puck's finger moves gently across Kurt's wound before the soft cloth follows. "Touches and patience . . . and you'll be looking great in no time."
"As if I'll look anything less." Kurt chuckles as he looks away from Puck to fill his vision with the other side of the bathroom. "Are they dealing with this well? To everything that happened to us . . . to you."
Puck sighs and continues to clean Kurt's wound, slowing his movements down. "Kind of like your dad I guess. They're worried, but they're waiting for me to get used to everything that happened, to open up and talk to them first. I've . . . I've kind of closed myself off to them. Nothing out of the norm, but they have a legit reason now and it's scaring them."
Kurt brings his eyes back to his lap, trying to ignore the eyes of the boy between his legs. "And what about you? How are you actually coping?"
Puck drops his hands from Kurt and looks down. "I've already cried about it, even with you and your dad. There's nothing more to say really."
"So you can ask about me, but I can't ask about you?" Kurt looks to Puck with confused eyes, but meets Puck's stern and jaw-locked face.
"No, you can't." Puck sits back and continues to look at the floor. "Like I said, I want to deal with this on my own. Plus I owe it to you to talk to you about what happened."
"Because you saved me." Kurt's voice goes monotone.
Puck gives him a curt nod. "That and the fact that you were the only one to answer."
"Of your friends?"
"Well guess what, I consider you a friend, Puck." Kurt sneers. "Why, because since you joined glee club, you've become a human. That and the fact that my only friends were in that room, so I had to include you, Not because I wanted to. But now, you're my only friend left because the rest of them died." Kurt's voice is shaking as he glares at Puck's averted eyes. "So you will stay my friend because I don't have anyone else. Dammit, Puckerman. I thought you changed."
Kurt lets his shaky breaths echo into the room, cursing himself internally for letting his rant become various conflicting sentences. If he had more time, he'd elaborate, but a rant isn't the place for that.
"Are . . . are they all really d-dead?" Puck asks, his voice cracking.
Kurt sighs and tries to withhold his sudden anger. "Unfortunately, yes. I watched most of them go myself while seeing the b- . . . the bodies later on."
Kurt watches as Puck lets out a shaky breath as his head falls onto Kurt's knee. "So . . . so Quinn?"
"Yeah." Kurt slowly nods, but stops and his eyes widen. "Oh, Noah."
Puck starts shaking as he leans into Kurt, heartbroken. He quickly wraps his arms around the broken boy in front of him, the one that openly weeps for his unborn child. Kurt holds Puck against his chest, uncaring that he's not wearing a shirt or that Puck's tears are seeping into his wound; he just wants to comfort the boy for losing his unnamed child.
They say that losing a child before the parent is the worst imaginable feeling, even worse than when the child watches the parent die. It's just unnatural for the child to die first. Miscarriages and errors during pregnancies are common, but to lose the child because the mother was shot in a school shooting are completely new circumstances that no one wants to even touch. What do you say . . . what do you do? In total, it's an experience that one should never go through, but then again, there are many experiences that this could apply to as well.
Kurt can feel his wound starting to itch as Puck's breath even out on his body. He can't even wrap his mind around the idea of losing his child, it just hurts to much to process. Without even realizing it, he is making soft calming noises as one hand move gently through Puck's mohawk, calming the bigger boy. It must be a sight to see someone of Puck's size curled up and looking so defeated in the middle of Kurt's legs, his upper chest bare and with his arms around Puck.
"I had a song planned." Puck's voice cracks as he interrupts Kurt's thoughts. "I was going to sing it in glee club that day. Me and Fi- . . . me and the other guys were meeting up during lunch to practice it. Finn even got a part because he wanted to apologize to you."
"Hmm." Kurt cocks his head as he looks down at Puck. "For what?"
"The whole . . . bedroom thing." Puck slowly brings his wet eyes up to meet Kurt's and gives him a weak smile. "He told me all about it, so I was going to let him join in with the song. Two birds with one stone and all."
Kurt nods and gives Puck a shaky smile, his energy draining rapidly. "What song were you going to sing? I can't . . . I don't know of any that links one disaster of a day to the beauty that is life."
Puck glances down and Kurt finds that both of his hands now are on Puck's head, one stroking the strip of hair on top of his head and the other cupping Puck's muscular chin, feeling the movements of his jaw. "Beth . . . by Kiss. I had wanted to name her Beth, or to at least give Quinn the option to include me in her life. And the name . . . it fits. The song . . . it all fits, Kurt." Puck sounds so defeated as he looks back down to Kurt's body, frowning once his eyes reach there. "You're going to get infected if you don't get cleaned up sometime soon."
Kurt can only nods as Puck occupies himself with finishing up with Kurt's wound. Kurt watches as the boy is so careful that he wouldn't be able to imagine someone of Puck's physique doing this if it wasn't with his own eyes. It makes him curious as to all of his preconceived notions and their implausibility now, they're slowly disappearing one at a time. Maybe he'll have to rethink a few things about Noah Puckerman.
Maybe they were new friends, barely acquaintances in fact, but Kurt still feels some protectiveness and fondness with Puck. The boy had helped him and almost everyone else in the glee club since he had joined them back in September. He even Trick-or-Treated with all of them back in October, which had to be the best one that Kurt had in a long time. No matter how distant the two were from each other, they were still in the same club and considered each other family. Distant yes, but they were nonetheless part of a bond that had been created in that choir room.
Now that everyone important in his life was gone, at least those in the friends department, he's now left alone with only Puck as a friend; he boy who is wildly popular with the woman, the jocks, and even a few teachers at McKinley. Kurt wants to snort at the idea of Puck wanting to stay as his friend when the boy must have so many more. However, Puck did want to call him, he did come over to his house, he is helping Kurt clean up . . . maybe Puck is just alone in this as much as Kurt is. Just maybe.
"Kurt." Kurt looks down again to find Puck looking at him.
While Kurt was in his thoughts, Puck had already returned the warm cloth back to the cooling water in the sink and had his wound re-patched up, ready for Kurt to move again. Puck gives Kurt a soft smile before slowly standing up, Kurt's shirt in his hand. Kurt glances at the shirt in confusion before looking up at Puck.
The corner of Puck's mouth twitches as he holds out the boys shirt. "Why don't you go ahead and put yourself together? I'll just wait outside for you."
Kurt nods and slowly reaches out to take the fabric from the other boy, the sudden weight filling his hand making it drop. Kurt slowly looks down at the fabric, confusion still in his head and blocking his sense of common sense. His view of Puck's new jeans are gone along with the fading sound of feet across linoleum flooring of the bathroom and the soft shut of the door.
He reaches out so he can place his shirt on the edge of the counter while his other hand goes to his wound, the bandage, and feels the roughness of it. He'll have to take another pill soon because he can feel the pain down there, twitching under the thick layer of paper above it. Kurt has to admit though, it's not as bad as before, to which he can thank Puck for. It's very unexpected of Puck to have been this kind, but it's appreciated nonetheless and Kurt is willing to overlook it for the time being. His fingers outline the bandage and finds that Puck had put it back on in the exact place that the doctor had, but it felt oddly more comfortable on his skin. Whether it was the fact that he let a trusted person do it, or that Puck knew some magic way to make it fit his body better, he'd never know.
Kurt moves his hand up, feeling up his chest in a slow sensual way, his eyes shutting as a breathy gasp leaves his lips. Again, his emotions have changed. His hands reach his hard nipples and he drops them, his eyes going wide. He quickly stands up and shifts away from the toilet that he had been occupying through his quick scrub down.
"Wow." Kurt mutters. "Those thoughts are new."
He went from thinking fondly of Puck to being slightly turned on by the boy. Kurt quickly blinks those thoughts away as he makes his way over to the sink. He's dead terrified that Puck had noticed his hard nipples, or even if they had been hard throughout the entire thing. It's definitely something that will not be brought up and will be blamed on medicine and involuntary reactions if it is.
Kurt grips the counter and looks forward. His entire face, and now body, is still pale, but not as before. Kurt can see how pinkish his chest looks compared to the white around his bandage and wound. It's going to take a while, but he'll be a nice shade of tan in no time. Now that he has the wound, maybe he'll be able to convince his father to get them their own pool instead of using a public one. This wound will be able to provide him several excuses, but he doesn't expect to use it too often . . . just on things he really wants.
Kurt chuckles softly, proud to have his emotions return to happy. He smiles at himself, smiles at survival, smiles at a body returning to health. Kurt finds himself wanting to laugh, but he keeps it down as he looks around the bathroom and notices the mess that he and Puck had made when it came to cleaning up Kurt's wound. He'll get that later instead of now because then he'd be a bad host . . . and he's oddly intrigued by Puck at the moment.
The boy had honestly surprise him. As the first time alone since Puck's arrival, he's able to focus on all of the facts besides the shooting to assess the boy. He's now kind, and careful. His lingering gazes seem more focused and full of genuine concern. Last resort of a phone call be damned, that boy actually cares about him. He may have had a random burst of anger or tears, but those were from his own fear and struggles to accept and understand everything that's been going on. Besides the shooting, being as close to Kurt as he was a few minutes ago must have been a surprise in it's own way, but Puck is handling it quite well. What more is to come? How is he supposed to know? This isn't the Puck that he knew, and he's not sure if he's ready for a relapse anytime soon. Or maybe Puck's always been this way. Who knows?
Kurt lifts his shirt up so he can pull it over his head, but he finds that a jolt of pain is sent up and down his body, all centered around his wound. He sighs and lowers his arms again. He's about to lift them up enough to get it over his arms, but not over his head. He sighs again, for the umpteenth time, before he extends his arm quickly and lets the shirt fly from his loose grasp and fall into his dirty clothes bin, which had been empty until now. The shirt lands softly in the bin as Kurt looks away and pulls back from the sink. Puck's already seen him shirtless so he doesn't mind opening the bathroom door and walks out slowly, no at all nervous, it's just in the mood for him to do so.
His mind flashes to his future as he steps out of the bathroom, feeling as if this is how it'd be if he had a lover with him. These intimate moments, these slow touches and lingering glances, Kurt leaving the bathroom topless to find his lover spread out across their bed . . . but that's not now.
Puck is sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet and knees together with his hands clasped together on top of them. His eyes move to Kurt as his face goes from thought-provoking to ease and relax at the sight of Kurt. Survival has given them a connection and understanding that seems only the two of them will have.
"What are you doing?" Puck asks as Kurt crosses the room. "I thought you were getting dressed and put together."
"It hurts too much to raise my arms." Kurt answers as he opens his closet doors and stands there for a second. "I didn't want to ask you again so I figured that I'd just get an easier shirt for access and comfort."
"I wouldn't have minded helping you." Puck says from behind him on the bed.
Kurt shrugs before venturing into his decent sized closet, taking in a deep breath as he does. "It's no problem. I'm just thinking for the future."
He can hear Puck shift on his bed as he grabs the shirt that he had been thinking of when walking in. It's one of his button up shirts, which means that he doesn't have to slide it over his shoulders. He is easily able to move his arms enough to slide the thin and see-through white fabric up his arms and over his shoulders. He may be tooting his own horn, but this is the only article of clothing that he owns that he feels sexy in. He mainly wore it when it came to working in his dads garage or during dance practice so that he had no restrictions.
He steps out of the closet with a diminishing smile, but it doesn't mean that he's any less happy since he still has a smile on his face; he's just becoming extremely tired at this point. He grabs them hem of his shirt and pulls it in front of him when he feels the cold room touch his skin, covering his wound as well from Puck's observant eyes. He would button the shirt, but he just decides that he'll leave it as is and hold it close to his body if he feels cold.
"So . . ." Kurt pauses for a few seconds as he slowly makes his way over to his bed. "what do you want to do now? We've . . . sort of gotten our thoughts out. At least as much as we could have tonight." Kurt averts his eyes from Puck as he takes a seat next to the boy on his bed. "The . . . the only thing I honestly think that we have left are . . . to trade war stories."
Puck snorts and looks down to his lap with saddened eyes. "Hmm. I guess that's what we could call them, but . . . I honestly don't know where to go from here. I mean, what do we do now? Just wait for the school to open back up? Move on? I don't . . . I just can't do that. Not when I've lost so many friends. Now that you're my only friend left . . . I just . . ."
"I know." Kurt says softly as he reaches over and places his hand on Puck's knee. "Right now, I feel lost. I mean it's already been a week since everything happened and now . . . it's like you said. What do we do?"
Puck slowly starts nodding before he turns to Kurt with a grin. "Well how about this? All my family seems to do is watch and observe me. They don't understand, and they're giving me my space. I'm figuring that it's the same for your father. So . . . let me stay the night tonight." He chuckles as Kurt's eyebrows go up at the proposition. "You're my only friend left and I'm yours. And being completely honest, I'd rather just hang with someone that understands why . . . why I don't feel like doing anything or talking about what happened. That and we never hung out before."
"So two birds with one stone." Kurt mutters as he slowly nods. "Alright then. Yeah. I think that this could be . . . well not fun, but good for the both of us."
"Sweet." Puck grins at Kurt, a very soft one that Kurt had only seen the boy use a few times. "So I'll . . . I guess I'll just . . ."
Puck looks at a loss of exactly what he wants to say.
Burt is more than prepared to go to bed after this long week, but he knows he just has to push that desire to do so down just a bit more for the sake of his son. He needs to make sure that Kurt takes his medicine, to make sure that he's actually asleep when he goes down to check on him in a few hours. It used to be a full time job, but that ended when Kurt started high school. Now it's back. It's back because some group of psychos decided to torture a bunch of defenseless people. Now he's back to treating Kurt almost like a child. He knows Kurt won't like it, but it's in his head now that he has to.
He shifts silently in his seat, still staring at the same cup on the same kitchen counter in the exact same seat. He probably wouldn't leave his seat until that Puck kid left. He's just too worried for Kurt to even think of going upstairs to leave his kid alone. He'll probably spend the night on the couch just so he can be close to Kurt, even though he doubt's that Kurt will sleep through the night.
It's been silent in the house for a while now, even though anything can be going on in Kurt's room since it's soundproof for the most part. Burt sighs loudly and it can be heard echoing through the kitchen. He blinks his tired eyes and focuses on his blurred cup. He slowly picks the cup up before deciding to get another cup of coffee. He just needs to stay up for a bit more longer for everything to be okay.
As soon as he stands up, his head snaps in the direction of the doorway. He can hear the sound of movement coming from Kurt's room. The sound of feet moving up the stairs. He sets his cup back down and quickly moves to the side of the center island, waiting for someone to show up. His lips stretch when he sees Puck come up, happy that the boy wasn't kicked out from one of Kurt's random mood swings. Something good must have come from that.
Puck hesitates once he catches Burt's eye, but after a swift nod, he's suddenly given a quick shove and takes off. Burt's eyes turn to Kurt's as he hears the front door shut. Kurt tilts his head down and pulls his shirt tighter around his body. Burt surprised to see Kurt wearing that shirt just around the house, or even around some kid from his school, but he does look more relaxed and Burt feels relieved for that.
"Hey dad." Kurt folds his arms across his chest. "Can . . . can Noah stay the night?" He doesn't sound hopeful, but he probably doesn't know how eager Burt is to please his son now. "It's just that there's so much that . . . that's been unsaid between us. We-I . . . I thought that it'd be a good idea for us to just talk. After all, we have some common ground now, which we figured would be best for us to talk about all of our problems with each other. I mean, you know of our complicated past." Burt nods as Kurt looks up, his eyes pleading. "Dad . . . no one else understands what I went through. H-he's my only friend left and I kind of need him right now." Burt finds his eyes burning with wet tears as Kurt sheds his own, unashamed and uncaring that it's in front of his father. "I love you, and I know that you and I need some time together, but . . . can that not be tonight?"
Burt quickly shakes his head as he gulps a few times to find his voice. "Sure, kid. Of course. Yeah." Burt stops nodding and clears his throat, his hand going up to shift his hat on his head. "Is there . . . anything you guys need? Food? Or-"
"No. Thank you though, dad." Kurt smiles softly at his father. "Noah's just gone home to get some of his clothes, and neither of us really feel like eating right now."
"Well I have the fridge stocked in case you two do." Burt offers as he takes a few steps forward. "Um . . . just lock the front door and all that."
"You going to bed?" Kurt's lip quivers. "I'm sorry for keeping you up so late, dad."
"It's fine, Kurt." Burt chuckles as he places a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I've just spent far too many nights this week awake when I should have been sleeping."
"Kurt." Burt firms his grip on Kurt's shoulder as well as his voice. "Never apologize for this. For any of it. It wasn't your fault. It was their fault that I stayed awake . . . that I worried." Burt's voice cracks as he looks down. "Listen, Kurt, you will . . . never know how . . . how relieved I was-still am, Kurt. And as soon as everything settles down, and you and I have time to talk . . . we'll talk." Burt ends his rough speech with a smile, knowing that the smile on Kurt's face is from his bad choice of words.
"I'd love that, dad. A lot actually." Kurt nods as more tears stream down his face before he suddenly unwraps his arms from his own body and wraps them around his fathers. "I love you dad. I didn't stop thinking of you when I was in there."
Burt smiles into Kurt's hair. "Really?"
"No." Kurt chokes on a laugh. "But I know if I had stopped for a second I would have. I would have found some way to call you. Some way to . . . tell you that I loved you before I . . . if i died."
"I know you would have, kid." Burt shuts his eyes as he lets a relieved shake go through his body, a deep breath leaving him. "But thank god that you're alive. I wouldn't have been able to handle you d-d . . ." Burt stops himself from saying that word as he clings to his son. "I don't ever want you to leave me, Kurt. Move away, get married, heck you could even fly to the moon for a vacation, but don't ever leave me. Always come back to me. To you're family. To . . . home."
He can feel Kurt shake in his arms as he starts to speak. "I'll always come home, dad. Even if I go to the moon." They both share a snort at Burt's random choice of wording from his previous statement. "Don't worry dad. I'll be here for you always." Kurt lets out a shaky breath. "Always."
Sorry guys for the late chapter. I've been on vacation as well as other projects, but I hope to get back into the swing of regular updating. Let me know what you think. :)