The Untitled Wound

Author: GleekShip

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.

Pairings: Kurt/?

The Untitled Wound

Kurt lets out his increasing amount of shaky breaths as he steps out of his bathroom. It's not his fault that there's too many things that cause his nerves to freeze his body up and makes him want to hide. Today it would be that he's meeting Noah Puckerman after last seeing the boy on a stretcher after the mohawked boy saved his life. That was the main reason that he was nervous. What do you say to someone that could have died trying to save you, someone that could have already have been hurt? He's pretty sure the boy was lying when he said he wasn't in the hospital. He had to at least get a check-up after everything, and there could still be stuff that's going on with the boy. This is when Kurt's nervousness and anxiousness turns into guilt.

He stumbles over to his bed, the only pleasure that's been there for him recently. A place to be warm, a place to hide, a place to curl up, and a place to cry. He lets himself fall onto the pile of blankets and buries his face into them. He had taken out every piece of woven material that's meant to cover from his closet and from the rest of the house as well as all of the pillows he could get. He had been surrounding himself with that so it didn't feel like he was on a hard surface of any sort. He wanted this softness around him at all times, even if he could see his dad wanting to question the decision. This was his comfort at the moment. It's not like he could call Tina or Mercedes up and cuddle with them now could he.

That was another issue. He had only been home for seven hours or so, getting out early in the morning, and he had already made so many changes. On top of getting the comfort of his bed put together after the first hour, he had went through a stream of emotions rather quickly, and probably in an unhealthy way. Kurt had chosen to lay down and just stare into the emptiness of his room and heart when his dad had come in to check on him; it hadn't ended well. Kurt had lashed out in anger and swore his butt off to his dad using every filthy and derogatory name in the book before he became mute. His dad looked hesitant on what to do, but Kurt had decided for him when he fell back into his mound of a bed. His dad had left the room, probably confused and hurt most likely. It had only taken ten minutes before Kurt left his room and joined his dad in the kitchen, which had lead to a 30 minute cry and sob session, from both men. Apologies were said, fears put on the table, and a deal was made.

Part of that deal was about to go into fruition. Burt had wanted Kurt to wait downstairs for when Puck first arrived, having wanted to talk to the boy. Kurt immediately had some idea of what was going to go down, him already having told his dad that Puck had been the one to save him. Anything else in their conversation would most likely reach his ears sooner or later from his dad. Kurt groans and turns over in the blankets so he can see his room out of his left eye and the darkness of his blankets and his eyelid with the right.

He could care less about how he looks at the moment, his messy hair already providing the evidence. He had tried taking a shower, but he didn't want to have to undress his wound and see the damage. He's been living to his original orifices on his body his entire life so far and another one in his stomach would probably end up with his bathtub full of vomited hospital food followed by hours of heaving. He'd have to get used to seeing the wound soon, but that's not going to be today. At least he doesn't smell bad, thanks to the hospital and his lack of any physical exertion this past week.

He knows that he should be in pain right now, but he may have taken an extra pill to keep the pain away longer. That and the fact that since he had to leave the hospital, the doctors had wrapped some extra bandages around his stomach for his venture home. He's not complaining. Surprisingly, he's managed to move himself quite well and has more or less not felt anything unless he's focusing his thoughts on that part of his body . . . like he is now. Kurt swears as he feels a slight ping in that region in particular, but he quickly switches himself back to his anxiety and hesitation.

At this point, he's pretty sure that he's regressed a few years and underwent a gender swap so he can play the part of angsty teenage girl who's attitude changes every few minutes and only complains about his inner turmoil and how everything revolves around him. Sure he has a legit reason, but that doesn't mean he still can't be civil. At most, at least he makes himself promise himself, it's only going to last only a few days and only when he's alone. That's the key to longevity and secrecy so he's not required to go under a psyche evaluation, even though he most likely will have to visit a grief counselor.

He stills his breathing for a few soft seconds so there's less of a distraction as he tries to listen in on the most likely awkward situation that is going on upstairs. He can hear the faint sound of muffled voices, but that's only just because his ears are tuned in on listening. The average person wouldn't be able to hear anything since his walls are soundproof, so it's a practice. He's half-tempted to go up his staircase and peek out to see what's going on, but he's not that brave. He's sure that what ever is going on up there, it's a private moment that he would consider himself not rude enough to interrupt. The fact that Noah Puckerman is willingly in his house kind of scares him.

Kurt sits up from his pile of blankets and pillows before sighing. He gulps and locks his jaw as he moves to the edge of his bed and hangs his feet off. He waits for them to land firmly on the ground before he clenches his hands on the edge of his mattress and main comforter set. His leg starts shaking up and down as he looks to the ground. Maybe seeing Puck won't be scary, but it's not up to him. The only thing that he has to say is a thank you. It's not like they're friends or anything. Just Puck . . . and Kurt, way over there in the corner with no interactions between the two.

Kurt's head snaps to his left as he hears the soft padded footstep. It's soft at first, but then the weight of a body makes his top few stairs creak, as per the norm. He turns his body slightly as he watches the feet descend his stairs. His first surprise is the different style of clothes that Puck wears. He's not wearing his normal loose jeans, but ones that actually fit his body in a comfortable way. Once Kurt is able to see Puck's upper body, he lets out a sigh of relief at the normal t-shirt. At least he has one figure that allows him to continue to be the normal Puck that Kurt knows.

Puck stops at the bottom of the staircase and takes in Puck as a whole. The boy has his fans in his pants, but Kurt can visibly make out the clenching and un-clenching fists within. Kurt can see the veins popping out on the boys arms. Kurt's a bit relieved that he's not the only one stressed, nervous, and anxious about this whole encounter between the two, but he's concerned. He doesn't know what Puck saw, or who he saw die. Different people are witnessing different things and react different things.

Kurt's eye reach Puck's face and it damn near breaks his heart. The boy looks like he hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't done anything that would deem him a normal human following normal human functions. The bags under his eyes are as dark as Kurt's ever seen someone with lack of sleep. The boys hazel eyes have a sore redness look around them. The hazel eyes are kept to the floor. Kurt doubts that Puck has even looked him in the face or in his general direction besides a glance since he's been in the room.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before standing up. He gulps and clears his throat as he takes on step forward. He wants to say something, but he's undecided on what name to use, on which name he should refer to his hero as.

Kurt shuts his eyes and breathes in one long and much needed breath. "N-Noah." He goes with the name that feels right to speak.

Puck eyes quickly find Kurt's and that's both of their breaking points. Kurt quickly moves with Puck towards each other until their arms are wrapped around each other. Kurt has his face hidden into Puck's shoulder as Puck hides his face in Kurt's hair. Both of them had bone-breaking limbs wrapped around each other. Kurt lets himself go as his tears stain up Puck's shirt. Puck's the first one to make a verbal sound with a choked sob as he clings onto Kurt even more. Kurt has one hand wrapped around Puck's back and the other one is holding onto Puck's neck, holding him there.

Burt gives the hugging teens one last look before he makes his way up the stairs. He makes sure to step on the side of the steps next to the wall so it doesn't squeak as he ascends the stairs. Seeing his son truly let go to a complete stranger to him is a big impact on him right now. Why not him? Why doesn't his son talk to him anymore? He had been given the chance over a week ago when he had kicked Finn out of the house, but all he had done was leave his son alone in his sorrows. That's what he's doing again, but at least there's someone to comfort his boy now.

Burt sighs and runs his hand over his face as he enters the kitchen. This has been a tough week for him emotionally compared to the physical damage of Kurt. While Kurt was in the hospital, Burt had discovered from his doctor that he was having heart problems. He wouldn't have known, but his doctor had found Burt clutching his chest in the hallway while Kurt was undergoing surgery to remove the bullet from his stomach. That's something that he's keeping from Kurt though, at least until it becomes more than just a minor scare.

He remembers when his heart had first started hurting; the moment that he saw Kurt on that stretcher. He had been standing by all of the other worried parents when he spotted his boy. It could have been anyone bleeding out and having that pale skin, but he knew it was his boy. Who else would wear those expensive clothes. Being held back the police was the worst feeling that he had ever felt up until that point in his life, even worse than when his wife died. Watching his baby boy being moved away and he could do nothing. That feeling was broke over and over again as he went to the hospital, waited for his son, and then sat by his side day after day. Within the span of a week, he had put his heart on the line for his son, and he would do so again. His heart was just a piece of dust as far as he was concerned. It could be swept under the rug and stepped all over if it meant that he could do his best to help his son.

Burt sits down at their small kitchen table and stares at the half-empty cup of coffee that he had abandoned when the Puckerman boy came over. He had been like Kurt a few minutes ago. He had held onto the boy and just cried as he thanked the boy for saving his sons life. Puck had done the same and they were just that for a few minutes before they had separated. They both knew that Burt knew of Puck's former history with his son. If the boy had survived the shooting and had he not saved Kurt, but would have retaliated with violence had the boy shown up at his door. He has plenty of built-up aggression and frustration at this point that he's willing to put his heart on the line again to get it out. But the boy had saved his sons life and that changed things. After their hug, Puck had started asking about Kurt, about his condition, to which Burt had answered with no problem. Puck had brushed off Burt's attempts to ask about the tan boy, but Burt had gotten him to admit some of his story of what went on in that school and how he had come about to saving his son.

Burt reaches forward to his cup of coffee. He had been drinking an unspeakable amount recently to stay awake, whether it be straight black or loaded up with sugar, he just needed it. He stands up from his chair with the cup and makes his way over to the sink. Maybe now that that Puckerman kid was here he'd be able to calm down a bit with Kurt having a friend on his side. But what's left for him, then? What does his son need from him since he hasn't been able to comfort him yet?

Kurt waits for the silence to return to the room before he slowly loosens his grip on the boy pressed against him. Puck does the same, but he's more reluctant to. Kurt glances to his left to look at the boys face as they separate and he sees that the boys face is stained with tears, the other half being soaked onto Kurt's shirt, and looking down-right depressed. Kurt wants to wipe away the tears, but he's not close enough to Puck emotionally to do that. Kurt reaches behind him and lets his hands create some new sounds in the room while his hand searches the table until he comes up with a few tissues. He holds them up to Puck and the boy takes them. He gives Kurt a weak smile before turning away to clean himself up.

Kurt brings his arms up so he can cross them over his chest for comfort. An unexpected chill hits him so he rubs his hands against his bare arms. He slowly moves away from the boy and takes a seat down on the edge of his bed. It's one thing to hug a somewhat friend, but it's another to hold the guy for several minutes while you both bawl your eyes out. Since he hasn't been hit yet or referred to in a derogatory fashion, he's assuming that this has been Puck for a while, or this whole shooting massacre has changed his mine drastically to where Puck has almost tipped over into a new persona.

Kurt watches as Puck slowly turns around. He knows what he saw that day, but he has no idea what the other boy saw. It could easily be much worse than his vision. After all, Puck was one of the popular kids, had the most friends, could have easily have seen more of them die. Puck drops the tissue into the small trash can that Kurt had recently put by his bed in case he felt the urgency to upchuck his empty stomach. Kurt averts his gaze from the boy as he settles down a foot or two away from Kurt. He can see Puck turn on the bed s he's facing Kurt out of the corner of his eye and he can't help but smile. Puck actually seems to be civil and willing to have a conversation with Kurt.

"You look like Hell." Puck comments.

Kurt turns towards him with a frown, but he sees a small smirk on those tan lips. "Why thank you, Noah. I haven't had a chance to shower yet today. To wash away the grime and crap."

"Why not?" Puck's eyebrows furrow. "You have your own bathroom. If I wasn't in there for a shower I'd be-" Puck cuts himself off by shaking his head and gulping. "You can get away with a long shower or a fancy bubble bath-thing. So why not take one?"

"Are you seriously asking me about my showering habits?" Kurt asks with a small smile, completely relieved that they're starting off with this simple, friendly tone.

Puck snorts and slowly nods. "Yeah. Yeah I am. It's much better than the alternative."

They both slowly lose their smiles at that idea. It's what they came here to talk about, but neither of them seem ready to besides a quick and most likely never-to-be-talked-about-again sob session. At least the tension is broken for the most part, or at least it's rapidly dissipating with their current bathroom talk.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before accepting the inevitable. "If I take a shower, that means I'll have to clean . . ." Kurt's hands instinctively go to where his wound is. "I'll have to clean this. I know I'll have to do it eventually or it'll get infected, but I don't want to see it right now. I want to postpone that process for as long as I'm able to."

Puck nods, understand it. He himself hates looking at all of the bruises that he has. It's a constant reminder of the many cowardly and selfish mistakes that he made that day. He actually has a massive dark purple bruise growing on his side from where he fell on Kurt when he pushed him out of the way that day, but it's not something he'll tell Kurt about. He made it out without seeing too many people die. His main issue was that he was stranded and out of friends rather fast.

Puck sighs, not wanting to go down memory lane. "So does that mean I can't see it?"

Kurt's eyes widen as he slowly shakes his head. "Why would you want to do that?"

Puck shrugs. "I don't know. I've never seen an actual bullet wound before. That and scares make people look cool, I figured I could help you out in that area."

Kurt snorts and clutches his hands to his stomach as the function rumbles through his body with amusement. "I do not need help looking cool. I'm cool all on my own."

"I'll give you that, Kurt." Puck smiles at Kurt before he releases a strained breath. "But seriously, I think you should let me see it. I'll even clean it for you so you don't have to. I get to see your scar, and you don't have to clean it."

Kurt's intrigued and most into the proposition, but he still has a nagging in his mind that he has to get out. "Noah, be straight with me. Why do you want to see this scare so badly? No false excuses, or funny puns. We're here to have . . . some sort of talk. I don't really know yet. So I expect an honest answer from you from time to time."

Puck reaches up and runs a hand over his face as he lets out a harsh breath, not wanting to do this, but knowing that he has to. "I want . . . I want to see the wound that I caused. You got shot because I pushes you down. Right into the bullet. It's . . . i-it's my fault, Kurt. And . . . I'm so sorry, Kurt. I thought I was helping you and-"

"Shh." Kurt quickly moves to Puck's side and hugs the boy. "It wasn't your fault, Noah. There were two bullets. If you didn't push me out of the way and onto one bullet, I would have been shot in the face. You saved me, Noah. You saved me. I'm alive because you were so brave." Kurt pulls back from puck slightly so their eyes can meet. "I don't care what anyone has ever said about you, Noah. You are a brave and special man. I can see you doing great things because you have the courage and strength to do so."

Puck is like melting ice in Kurt's arms; he just breaks down again. Kurt has a feeling that this is going to be happening a lot between the two boys during this conversation today and however many more come in the future. It's just bound to happen, it kind of needs to happen according to Kurt. This is good. They both have someone to lean on and to connect to about everything.

"Noah." Kurt keeps his voice soft, he doesn't even think about it at this point. "I owe you a huge thank you. If it wasn't for you, then I'd just be another number and name for the news to get views about."

Puck chuckles into Kurt's neck. "Even I know that's not true. You'd be missed by everyone . . . even me."

"Thank you, Noah." Kurt slowly pulls back before glancing briefly to the bathroom. "Come on then. The sooner the wound is clean, the better off I'll be."

Kurt is beyond confused by this encounter. He never expected that this is where he'd end up with Puck. Yes he expected them to have a deep talk and maybe gain some ground for an understanding with each other, but he never expected that he'd end up having to have Puck clean him up while they share sob stories with each other. If he thought this week was the worst ever, life had a funny way of putting a clever twist to be attached to his hip by the end. But before he knows it, he and Puck are up from the bed and walking over to Kurt's bathroom, Puck trailing behind him a bit. It seems like it will be awkward, but Kurt's only feeling confusion and minor awkwardness at this point. Nothing about feeling embarrassed or fear as he initially thought he would be in this situation. Being completely honest, he may have had a stray thought or two about Puck during his nighttime rituals over the past few months when Puck had moved from bully to minor annoyance in the back of the choir room. So he's quite happy that a blush isn't on his face and that this thought is only a brief passing in his mind before it's gone and they're in the bathroom.

Kurt stands by the sink while Puck goes over to his cabinet to get a few towels. Kurt has to move out of the way so Puck can get into the medicine cabinet above the sink. Burt knows that his dad had stored the proper medical stuff that he had picked up from the hospital pharmacy shortly before Kurt's release for when his son had returned home. He watches as Puck pulls out the extra bandages, gauze and a few sterile pads. Kurt moves to sit down on the toilet and watches as Puck plugs the sink before filling it with warm water. He tests the water a few times before nodding with satisfaction.

Puck turns to Kurt and Kurt can see that the boy has his hands clenched again, the stress getting to him. "Alright." Puck lets out a shaky breath. "I need you to . . . to take off your shirt."

It's not awkward or embarrassing. Puck actually sounds very caring at the moment and concerned for Kurt. Kurt lets out a shaky breath before looking to the ground. Originally, he would have had to have his dad help him out of his shirt, but now he has to have Puck help and he's extremely reluctant to do so. Puck seems to understand the unasked question and just gives Kurt a small smile before he takes a few steps forward and knees before the boy.

"Can you . . . are you able to lift your arms?" Puck asks hesitantly. "I know you could when we hugged, but can you lift them all the way up?"

Kurt bites his lip before shrugging. "I can try."

He only manages to get his arms up halfway before his face cringes in pain. "Alright." Puck takes Kurt's arms and pulls them down slowly. "Hold your arms out for me. I think that'll be easier."

Kurt nods and just holds his arms out. He can feel his face burning up as Puck's hands go to his waist and teases the edge of his shirt and pulls the shirt up. Once Puck spots the edge of the white bandages, he slows down so the shirt doesn't snag on any of them and rips them off of Kurt's body. Puck's hand goes to the back of Kurt's neck where the back of shirt is scrunched up at and carefully pulls his over Kurt's head.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he leans back against the cold toilet. Puck folds up Kurt's shirt quickly before placing it on the edge of the tub. When he looks back to Kurt's, his bottom lip quivers at the sight. Kurt may have severally wounded in one area, but his other wounds were still bad. Puck had seen the pale chest a few times when changing for glee club rehearsals, but there was barely any pale left to go around. There are bruises at every angle and with every shade from black to purple, to a very disturbing green. The hospital may have tried it's best to help Kurt, but Puck knows from experience that Kurt bruises easily and that it usually lasts long.

"Wow." Puck has to force himself to look away from the ruined body so he can meet Kurt's glasz colored eyes. "You look worse than I do."

Kurt's eyes narrow at the boy. "How bad are yours? Did you have to go to the hospital?"

Puck shakes his head and smiles. "No. Like I told you earlier, I didn't go. I was checked in the ambulance before they let me leave so they could help out some other people. I just have a few bumps and bruises, but this isn't about me. This is about you . . . and that."

Puck motions to the bandage that's covering as pot on Kurt's stomach. The small bandage is only three inches by three inches with some hospital tape. He looks at Kurt with hesitant eyes before he leans towards Kurt's wound after the boy nods. Once his fingers touch Kurt's skin around the bandages, Kurt jumps and giggles.

"Did I hurt you?" Puck asks quickly as he retracts his hands. "Damn. Sorry, Kurt."

"No." Kurt quickly shakes his head and just smiles. "No, Noah. You didn't hurt me. You're hands are just really cold."

"Oh." Kurt can see that Puck probably thought that he didn't like being touched, not that he didn't have a legit excuse.

Puck pulls his hands back and cups them around his mouth. Puck breathes in a few times to warm up his palms. Once he's done with that, he moves his hand to his jeans and rubs his hand along the fabric to create some friction. That's when Kurt's eyes widen a bit.

"What's with the new jeans?" Kurt asks as Puck stops rubbing his hands. "They don't seem you."

"They're not." Puck mutters as he returns his hands to the bandages where Kurt jumps again. "What now?"

Kurt chuckles. "I'm a bit ticklish there. Years without being touched have left my skin extra sensitive."

Puck chuckles and nods. "Makes sense. Just try not to squirm so I don't hurt you." Kurt nods and completely stills himself as Puck starts moving his hands around the bandage to find an easy access point. "As for the jeans, I didn't want the others anymore. I had a good amount, but they were all the same brand and looks the same." Kurt watches as Puck's eyes tear up a bit as he focuses on Kurt's stomach. "But I had to throw them away after having all that blood on the pair from that day. I just . . . I just kept seeing blood on every pair, it never washing away. So I got my ma to buy me another pair. So far, I haven't seen any blood on them. Progress I guess." Puck adds as he looks up to meet Kurt's concerned gaze.

Kurt nods, but freezes as he hears the sound and feels the soft removal of the edge of one of the sides of the bandage. He doesn't want to see it, but he feels better knowing that Puck is here to help him through it. Puck gives him a comforting smile before he continues to reveal the wound.

Back with another chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one. It's a very different feel than the first two. I hope you enjoy. :)