It's another series of Puck/Kurt drabbles, and this time I have a theme: 31 Accidents! The drabble-fest is going on over at puckurt dot livejournal dot com, if you want to check out many more Puck/Kurt dribbles by lots of other authors. This chapter with my Ginger Tea and Apologies 'verse

The Cork

"Come on, babe!" Noah's voice called from the other room, excited and impatient. "The countdown's about to start!"

"Yeah, Daddy!" Eleven-year-old Jake called out. "The countdown! You're gonna miss it!"

Carrying the unlocked bottle of champagne and three glasses with him into the living room, where his husband and their son were watching the livestream of the Times Square goings-on, Kurt replied, "Well excuse me for wanting to celebrate the new year in style."

As he set down the glasses on the end table, Jake asked, "Three glasses?"

Kurt winked at his son and said, "I think eleven and a half is old enough for a sip or two to ring in the new year, don't you?"

Noah hopped up from the couch and clapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder, grinning, "Way to be badass, babe! Hey, can I pop the cork?"

Kurt took a good long look at his husband's grin, trying to figure out his intentions and only seeing eagerness and mirth. "As long as that's not some sort of euphamism," he replied, handing over the bottle, which he'd already taken the foil from and started unwinding the wire, "then sure, honey. Just be caref-"

POP!

Kurt was in shock for a few seconds before it dawned on him that he'd been hit - in the eye - by the cork. "Ow! Noah! I freaking told you to be careful! Shit!" The more time passed, the less numb his eye and it's surroundings felt and the more it stung like a motherfucker.

"Daddy!" Jake cried, scandalized by Kurt's language (not that he didn't hear just as bad, if not worse, from Noah on a regular basis).

"Holy crap, babe!" Noah cried, throwing down the bottle of champagne and pulling Kurt into his arms. "I'm so sorry! How bad is it? Do we go to the hospital? Should I get you some ice?"

Kurt sighed into his husband's shoulder and refused to answer any questions, instead opting for an angry groan and pressing one hand harder against his eyesocket to see if that would help the throbbing.

"Hey, Dad? Did you kill Daddy?" Jake asked as the countdown started on the TV behind them. "'Cause that would suck."

"Fifty-six! Fifty-five!"

"No!" Noah replied, hugging Kurt a little tighter. "He's gonna be fine. Right, babe? You're good, huh?"

"Forty-nine! Forty-eight!"

"Gimme a glass of champagne and that bag of peas from the freezer and we'll see," Kurt replied dryly, feeling a little cold as Noah let go of him and ran off toward the kitchen. Cracking his good eye open, Kurt noticed that his son was sitting on the arm of the couch, the bottle of champagne to his lips. "Jake!"

"Thirty-one! Thirty!"

"What?" the boy asked, his face the picture of innocence - a look he'd no doubt inherited from his father. "You said I could have some." Without shame, he tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow before Kurt swayed te few steps over to him and grabbed it from his hands, spilling a little down Jake's shirt and onto the carpet. Fantastic.

"Twenty-two! Twenty-one!"

"I said a sip or two, not half the bottle," Kurt pointed out, setting it down on the end table, but missing because of his impaired depth perception. The champagne fell to the floor, glugging out onto the carpet and all Kurt could do was groan and press the heel of his palm against his eye.

"Seventeen! Sixteen!"

Shaking his head and taking the bag of peas Noah pressed into his hands, Kurt muttered, "What a way to start the new year..."

"Six! Five! Four!"

"Just put these," Noah said softly, guiding the hand holding the peas up towards Kurt's face, "on your eye and kiss me, alright?"

"Two! One!"

Kurt shrugged, "Yeah, okay."

"Happy New Year!" Jake cried, blowing the noisemaker Noah had bought him and jumping in place a little as he celebrated. Kurt shook his head a little - fondly - at his son and then kissed his husband as best he could with one side of his face covered in frozen vegetables. "Ew! Get a room!"

Kurt chuckled into the kiss before pulling back, looking up at Noah with his good eye. The man stroked his fingers through the hair above Kurt's neck and insisted, "I'm so sorry, baby."

"I know," Kurt nodded, giving Noah half a smile and wondering just how many foot-rubs he could milk this incident for in the coming year. Probably a lot. Considering the boots he'd bought himself with some of the Christmas money his parents had sent, Kurt was going to need those foot rubs. Badly.