Note: Extreme fluffiness ahead. Like, to the tenth power. Have your dentists on standby, you may need them to fill the cavities that will inevitably spring up from the unbearable sweetness. I tried really hard to tone it down . . . I failed miserably.
Chapter 4
Kurt turned onto his street, finally easing up on the gas pedal as he approached his house. He mentally braced himself for what awaited. Most likely, it would be the lecture of a lifetime that would utilize his father's ability to make him feel like he was a complete cretin for worrying him so badly and, thus, unworthy of his car, his phone, and possibly his credit card and his freedom.
He would fight, bitch and defy like any teenager when he was being punished for secretly hording tiaras, going a few hundred dollars over his monthly credit limit or using up all the hot water in the house before seven in the morning, but when it came to causing his father pain and/or freaking him out? Kurt was willing to accept any and all consequences. It made him feel a bit like those self-flagellating monks – he always hated himself for it.
The first things he noticed as he drove up were the cars, as well as a familiar looking van, parked in front of and across from his house. Before he could really wonder at that though, he spotted his dad at the end of his driveway.
Kurt had a brief moment of panic and, without really knowing why, he grabbed his still damp boxers and shoved them into the back of his glove compartment. He had the urge to check his hair, recently dry and probably an unmitigated disaster, and to fix the remainder of his clothes, but knew perfectly well that he was a mess and there was no fixing it. And that it didn't matter to his father what he looked like at the end of the day.
His dad had apparently spotted him before Kurt himself had noticed his father and was standing, hands in his jeans' pockets, waiting for him. Kurt slowed to a crawl, pulling into the driveway without looking towards the man. Just as he turned the engine off, he turned to his door and found his father standing right in front of it. They stared at each other for a moment before Kurt steeled his courage and lowered the window, swallowing hard as he did so.
"Uh . . . hi dad."
His father just looked at him.
Kurt opened his mouth to say something banal like 'how was your day?' but decided to just get the whole painful ordeal over with and instead blurted out, "I'm so sorry. Really. It was a weird day, and I lost track of time, and I had no phone so I couldn't call and –"
A hand was raised and Kurt shut his mouth with an audible click of his jaw. His dad studied him, probably taking in his disheveled appearance, and Kurt reflexively reached up to straighten his hair, with minimal success – he could feel his bangs falling against his eyebrows no matter how many times he combed through with his fingers. After several moments of silence, his father finally spoke, "I've only had about five or ten minutes to absorb your disappearing act – not enough time to get a good panic goin'. I was workin' my way up to that. So you're in luck."
Kurt exhaled in relief – so he hadn't prematurely aged his dad another decade or two. "That's . . . that's good, dad. I – you know I would never do this to you on purpose or –"
His father smiled wanly. "I know, kiddo. And I wanna hear the story behind this later. But right now, you have some consequences to face." His dad stepped back to allow him room to get out of the car.
Kurt nodded as he opened the door. "Whatever you say, I completely deserve it."
His dad shook his head. "Nah, not from me. Like I said, I didn't really get a chance to worry – and I wouldn't've really known about it, if Mercedes hadn't told me just now. And Finn."
"Mercedes? Finn?"
"KURT!"
Kurt had enough time to see a denim clad blur launch itself off his porch before he was all but flattened against the side of his Navigator, Mercedes' arms wrapped suffocatingly around him. He could hear his father laughing as Mercedes leaned back far enough to search his face, a huge smile breaking across hers and . . . were those tears?
"Kurt! God, you're a mess! Did something happen? Where have you been?!"
She wiped what was probably some stray dirt or dried sweat off his cheek and temple before squeezing him tightly again. He hugged her back, shooting his father a puzzled look over her shoulder.
His dad grinned. "You ain't see nothing yet."
Mercedes pulled back long enough for another pair of arms to drag him close, and he suddenly had a mouthful of blonde hair. He spat out the strands, gasping out, "Quinn?" as she hugged him about the neck.
Throughout all of this, he'd been hearing the periodic slam of his front door, and he gazed over the blonde head buried in his neck to see Finn, Matt, Tina, Puck, the entire glee club gathered on his porch and in his front yard.
"Wha –"
"We were worried." Mercedes was wiping at her tears, trying to be subtle about it. Kurt couldn't stop staring at all the faces he'd thought he wouldn't be seeing until the new school year.
"Wait – why? I just went for a drive, and I've –"
"Been doing that for the past week, I know. We'll deal with this bizarre behaviour of yours later, by the way, and don't think I'll forget, drama queen!"
Kurt cringed at that one – that was Mercedes' Black Diva on the Rampage tone – the one that even Kurt, on his best and bitchiest day, wouldn't dare defy.
"But you disappeared for hours," came Quinn's quiet voice as she peeled herself off him, and Kurt took a second to admire the cute dark blue sundress – he vaguely remembered helping Mercedes pick it out as a post-pregnancy gift, and he gave himself mental props – it looked great on her. Then he blinked at the absence of belly – sometimes he forgot that Quinn wasn't pregnant anymore. To be fair, he didn't really get to know the girl until she was bloated with the now-ex-Mohawk's spawn.
Quinn smiled. "You didn't take your phone and . . . I suppose it's silly, but we were freaking out – you have been weird for the past while."
"But, how would you know? I haven't spoken to you in ages."
"Because Mercedes and I talk," Quinn said simply. "And you haven't tried to talk to me either, Kurt."
Kurt had to concede the point – his own fear of rejection had erected this wall between him and his new friends. Wasn't that just what he'd realized during his little nature expedition?
"Really, it's been sorta freaky, watching you mope around the house," Finn added, and Kurt had to double take yet again at the sight of all those people – worried about him?
"Yeah, what the hell was all this crap about, anyway?" Puck asked, hopping over the railing of the porch to land on the grass and make his way over. The rest of the gleeks followed; Matt and Tina put down the large piece of wood, that Kurt's dad had long ago supplied, to cover the two steps which lead up to the porch in order to allow Artie to wheel down.
"I'll hear this story later – I need to get changed." His father leaned over and squeezed Kurt's shoulder, almost too hard. Kurt felt the guilt flare up – his father had been afraid, even if only for a few minutes. He smiled reassuringly at his dad, who smiled back and headed inside, bumping shoulders with Finn as he did so. Kurt watched him leave, eyes resting on his dad even as the door shut.
"C'mon, Kurt – where were you?" Finn crossed his arms, drawing Kurt's focus back to the crowd on his lawn.
In trying to figure out how best to tell this story, Kurt had a sudden epiphany – he didn't want to tell them about the stream. Not just because he couldn't really begin to explain that to himself, let alone to them, but . . . he wanted to keep it secret – keep it safe, secluded, and just for him.
"I . . . went for a drive and then, well, this deer jumped in front of the car –"
Rachel gasped, and Mercedes immediately began manhandling him, looking for injuries. "You idiot, why didn't you –"
"Because I'm fine," Kurt stated firmly, grabbing Mercedes hands in his own. "Really, Mercedes, I'm fine."
"Then what?" Tina asked, and everyone was positively riveted – with the exception of Brittany, who kept fluttering her eyelashes at him whenever he happened to glance her way. And Santana, but Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen her excited except while singing or cheering. And Puck, but he seemed at least mildly interested.
"Well . . . then nothing. I had a mild heart attack, managed to not cream either the deer or myself. I took some time to calm down, probably too much time, in retrospect. I walked for a bit, in the forest" – he gestured at his rumpled person – "and then . . . drove around 'til I realized how late it was. And then I came home."
There was a silence.
"Uh, that was it?" Matt exclaimed, rubbing the top of his short hair. "We were driving all over town –"
"And out of town," Puck put in. "Me and Quinn were practically at Columbus."
"Looking for you, and the whole time you were just driving in circles! Why?" Matt finished, staring at Kurt in confusion.
Kurt felt all eyes zero in on him even more intently, and he squirmed under all the attention. "Uh, because I was bored?"
"Bored?!" And there it was – Mercedes hauled back with an opened hand and smacked him across the back the head hard enough to make him see stars.
"Ow! Damn it, Mercedes –"
"Shut up, you had it comin'! Bored! I can't believe I was worried outta my head for the likes of you!"
The near silence erupted into noise as everyone began talking at once about everything they did to look for him – all the places they went and the amount of searching and driving – and maybe they were trying to make him feel guilty or simply impress upon him the stupidity of his actions . . . but he could feel a smile breaking across his face anew.
Because they did it all for him.
Quinn pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Try not to do that again, okay? You really had Mercedes freaking out – I mean, she was trying not to show it, but it was a little scary – and not just for her," she whispered into his ear.
The arguing and grandstanding about who drove the most or did the most thorough searching had somehow segued into just general chatter and before Kurt knew it, they were all sprawled on the grass, enjoying the warm night, and chatting about everything and nothing.
Tina had drifted over to give Kurt a hug and kiss too, whispering similarly in his ear that she had been on the verge of freaking out herself, and if Kurt ever pulled a stunt like that again, he would get a midnight visit from an Asian vampire hell bent on teaching him the perils of angering a "creature of the night". Kurt wasn't entirely sure how seriously to take her threat, as she had ended it by laughing and kissing him once more, but he decided better safe and sorry. He promised her it would never happen again and she had bounced back to Artie's side, plopping herself down next to Brittany, who handed her a braided grass bracelet without a word.
Actually, Brittany had been slowly and steadily making grass bracelets and necklaces using the ridiculously long (whoops, this had been Kurt's week to mow) grass of Kurt's front lawn, and passing them along. Santana was already fully outfitted in a necklace, two bracelets and a ring. Kurt had to cover up a laugh with a cough as he noticed Puck and Mike both wearing a bracelet and necklace each.
By the time everyone was decked out in their organic jewelry, things had settled down to a low hum and Kurt was sprawled between Mercedes and Quinn, head in Mercedes' lap, legs thrown over Quinn's.
"I can't believe what total pussies we were today." Puck groaned, quieting any other conversations. "All this time, he was just drivin' around –"
"We should thank Kurt – I don't think we've been all together since the week of Regionals," Rachel spoke, reclined comfortably against Finn's chest. "We didn't really see much of each other during the last month of school. Mind you, I was spending the time prepping for an audition tape I send every year for a summer Broadway program that's typically only open for college students, but their last rejection letter implied a great deal of partiality, and it seemed like perhaps my age and situation were the only obstacles."
Kurt stared, slack-jawed. He could feel Mercedes swallowing down laughter, but it seemed she couldn't restrain herself completely. "God, Kurt, I swear you guys could be brother and –"
"Bite your tongue, woman!"
Quinn cracked up. "Oh my God! I totally see it!"
Everyone else was looking confused while the two girls laughed like lunatics. Kurt sat up, crossing his arms and trying his best not to sulk like a child.
Rachel was cocking her head, trying to understand what was going on, and likely wondering if this was laughter at her expense. Kurt, for once, felt the need to reassure her. "Ignore them. And I completely understand – my own design portfolios are turned down with far too much finesse and effort – I believe I have a foot in the door in New York already."
Rachel clapped her hands, smiling broadly. "That's excellent! Oh, you and I could be famous friends, and then when everyone sees us together, we'll attract twice the amount of paparazzi and –"
"Uh, hold your horses, Young Barbara Streisand," Kurt said quickly, feeling a flare of panic at the thought of Rachel and he in the future, residing in the same zip code (but he had to admit that the paparazzi thing was sort of . . . no, that road led to badness and endless Rachel Berry time). "Let's just get through the slushie warzone that is our high school first, shall we?"
He turned to glare at Quinn and Mercedes, but the latter had this warm, happy grin that had more meaning behind it than Kurt could decipher, so he gave up on intimidating anyone and slouched down, leaning back onto his hands. "This has been one insane day."
"Tell me about it," Mercedes agreed, still grinning that annoyingly cryptic grin.
"How did we get here?" Artie wondered. "Wait, I know! Completely unreasonable panic and paranoia!"
"And Kurt was bored!" Mercedes smacked him again.
"Ow! Mercedes, please." He rubbed the back of his head. "Are you going to keep doing that for the rest of the night?"
"Yes! What a damn stupid reason to disappear off the face of the earth," she grumbled.
"Well, I was!" He tried to defend himself. "Think about it! This entire school year has been nuts, and non-stop and . . . now it has stopped, and . . . I don't know, things feel empty. And . . ." He trailed off, realizing everyone was staring at him again; he flushed, closing his mouth.
"So, you could have called me! Talked to me! Talked to any of us," Mercedes insisted, still shooting him frustrated glares.
"Uh, not me." Puck raised a hand. "I don't do emotional crisis well . . . actually, I just don't do them, period. But dude, if you wanted to come and shoot hoops with us, you totally could've come."
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "While I appreciate the offer, Puck, I think my brief foray into football was all the athleticism I would ever want or need for the rest of my teenage life. Call me in about five years."
"Well, there's a simple solution to this boredom of yours." Rachel tossed her hair over her shoulder, whacking Finn in the face with it. "I need some help at the community centre – I volunteer at the kid's summer program, and we have a production of Annie coming up. Your talent and experience would be most welcome."
"Actually, do you think maybe I could get in on that too?" Tina asked interestedly. "My summer tutoring is a complete drag and I could use the distraction."
Rachel nodded happily.
"And I'm in desperate need of a new wardrobe, now that I've lost the last bit of pregnancy weight," Quinn added, holding his hand. "And there's no one better to help me pick out new clothes. You and Mercedes are officially my new fashion consultants."
Mercedes high fived Quinn in front of Kurt, and gave him a kiss on the cheek at the same time that Quinn did – there was a flash of a camera and Artie grinned once Kurt blinked the red spots out his vision. "I'll e-mail you a copy, and I'm posting this on my MySpace – you'll be the envy of every male in Lima."
Quinn giggled softly, putting her head on his shoulder, and Kurt felt that sense of incredulity flicker to life inside of him for what had to be the tenth time that night.
Santana cleared her throat, crossing her arms. Everyone whipped their heads towards her, expressions disbelieving.
"Brittany and I practice Cheerio's routines everyday, per Coach Sylvester's strict instruction – she likes to show up at our houses at random and make us do routines on the spot to make sure we're still fresh." Santana glared at him, and Kurt swallowed hard, because he hadn't done anything Cheerio's related since Nationals. "And I know you're mostly a singer, but don't think that excuses you. You're coming over at least twice a week and practicing your cartwheels, Hummel. They're pathetic."
Brittany nodded enthusiastically at this plan, giving Kurt a slow wink when he looked over at her. Right, he wasn't even going to try and figure that one out.
"Actually . . ." Mike was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh, Matt and I . . ."
"Dude, shut up!" Matt hissed.
"Hey, c'mon, you know it's a good idea," Mike protested, and blushed when he noticed everyone's eyes on them now. Kurt felt himself getting wide-eyed at the amount of love and attention he was getting, so Mike's next words didn't garner a big reaction out of him, mostly because he was all out of big reactions.
"Matt and I have been thinking of trying out for the Cheerios," he blurted out quickly, and there were a lot of shocked gasps and blank stares at this. "And we've been practicing like, dance moves and stuff we think would be really cool. Maybe we could come over to Santana's and Brittany's too, and you guys can help us make up a few routines that might impress Coach Sylvester."
"What about football?" Finn asked, baffled by this turn of events.
Mike shrugged. "It's only part of the year, we can do them both – I'm sure it'll be fine. Plus, Cheerios is all year, and so are the perks."
Kurt watched as Finn and Puck absorbed this. Puck pursed his lips. "Okay. Whatever. Enjoy, dudes – I get it. Free dry cleaning, concert tickets, haircuts and hot girls to feel up." He grinned lewdly. "I'd join too, but it wouldn't be fair to you guys to have to compete with me. And I'd rock that uniform way harder than even the girls do."
Santana leaned over and smacked the back of Puck's head loud enough to have Kurt wincing sympathetically, but the girls just laughed while Puck pouted, rubbing his wounded skull.
Brittany frowned. "But the guys don't have to wear skirts so we don't have them in your size . . ."
Kurt let out a surprised snort at that statement, and everyone immediately covered their mouths to smother their own laughter at the thought of Puck in a skirt. Santana just smirked. "Yeah, Puckerman – you can join in on our little get-togethers if you come in the skirt. Hell, I'll even let you grope me."
Puck sneered. "That's what they call a forgone conclusion, babe. You'll let me grope you anyways."
"Oh really, and when the last time you had a piece?" Santana taunted.
Puck scowled, and the cheerleader smiled, almost genuinely. "It's cool, Puck – but remember the offer still stands."
"And you did say that you could wear a dress and still be a stud," Finn reminded Puck cheerfully.
The other jock straightened at that, glowering. "I totally could! And screw you, Lopez, I bet I'd get more tail than you in that thing!"
The girl narrowed her dark eyes. "Wanna bet, Puckerman?" Her voice was low and deadly.
"Yeah! Pick the day, name the place and it's on! Don't forget to wax for the occasion though – I know you get lazy about that over the summer."
"Oooh," came from Mercedes, Finn and various others as Santana tried to fling herself at him from her seated position while Tina and Brittany held her back. There were repressed chuckles and giggles all around as Puck looked panicked for a second or two.
"Hey, Kurt," he spoke as he edged away from Santana. "I was thinking of getting another summer job – my pool cleaning business is . . . uh, kinda not goin' so great." He wasn't looking at anybody while he said this, and no one commented on the fact that pool cleaning should be at an all time high over the summer. He coughed and, as he raised his eyes again, his smirk was firmly back in place. "I can't handle working at Sheets N' Things much longer – they won't let me go topless under those ugly-ass smocks and Mr. Ryerson is there all the time and he's creepy. So, I was thinking, maybe I could work at your dad's garage?"
Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "You've got some mechanical knowledge?"
Puck half-shrugged. "Uh. Not really. But I figure you can spare the time to teach me 'til I do, and then maybe your dad can hire me part-time or something?"
Kurt considered it for about half a minute before nodding his agreement. Puck would have to behave in the presence of his father and, well . . . He knew the so-called badass was having issues – he couldn't turn him down and appease his conscience at the same time. He would talk to his dad and see if it was cool with him. Puck shot him one of his genuine smiles and Kurt found himself smiling back. Huh, well, Mercedes had said there was a good guy buried deep, deep down. Maybe Kurt would get to know that guy this summer.
"And don't forget our Joss Whedon marathon!" Tina interjected randomly, clapping her mesh-gloved hands excitedly.
"Yeah, Kurt, you totally promised us a Buffy/Angel/Firefly/Dr. Horrible weekend!" Artie reminded him, adjusting his glasses. "You said so right after our math exam. I can quote you verbatim if you like. 'Can't stop the signal'."
"And," Finn finished off, smiling rather nervously, "I think maybe . . . I mean, I basically re-did my new room the same as my old room, and I think maybe it's time for a change . . ." Okay, that was so not fair. Kurt could feel his eyes watering and he knew no one would really get why, other than Finn, who's smile only widened. "You could help me out with re-decorating. And we could totally have everyone over when it's time to paint it!"
There was cheering at this idea, and Kurt managed to blink away any potential tears. He grinned as everyone started furthering plans and plots around him. He heard Artie say, loudly, that the annual St. Anne's Hospital Charity Car Wash would be the perfect place to decide Puck and Santana's bet, which both instantly agreed to. Kurt watched everyone grin at each other, wordlessly agreeing to be there – Kurt knew he would be, with bells on. No way he was missing that throwdown.
"Hey!" Kurt turned to see his father emerge from the front door, clad in his flannel sleep pants and a plain blue shirt. "Not that I don't want you guys here, but it's almost two in the morning, and I've already had at least three phone calls from the Berrys, Mr. Abrams, and Brittany's mom and a few others. I think it's time to head on out."
There was some jerking and jumping as people heard the time, checked their missed calls on their phones, and then it was a whirlwind of goodbyes and promises to text and e-mail as people hopped into their various rides and took off. Quinn was one of the last to leave, along with Puck – she looked very reluctant about it. Mercedes shot Kurt a meaningful look as she hugged the blonde goodbye. Kurt nodded in return – Mercedes had some thoughts about Quinn's mom, some not good thoughts, and Kurt couldn't help but agree that things weren't exactly altogether well with the two recently single Fabray women. It merited further investigation; Kurt mentally pencilled that into his suddenly nearly full schedule.
Once Quinn and Puck were gone, it was just Kurt, Mercedes and Finn left standing in the front yard. Finn smacked Kurt's back lightly. "I'm glad you're all right, Kurt – I guess it was stupid of us to get so wound up about it. But still, I'm real glad you're okay."
Kurt flashed a smile in the taller teen's direction. "It was stupid, but that and 'weird' seem to be the words of the day. Thanks, Finn."
Finn nodded, turning towards the house. "I'm beat, so I'm heading to bed." He shot Mercedes a quick grin. "You were awesome today."
She waved him off. "I kept my head 'cause I knew it would turn out all right in the end."
Kurt didn't believe her, and it looked like Finn didn't either, but he said nothing as he shot Kurt a knowing look and headed inside, past Kurt's dad.
Kurt was about to offer Mercedes a ride home, but she spoke up before he could, "If it's cool with you, Mr. Hummel, I'm gonna stay." She clutched Kurt's hand in hers.
His dad nodded. "Of course – you don't even have to ask anymore. Plus, your parents already phoned and I told 'em that you were probably gonna crash here tonight – you may want to phone them again to confirm it. And, please, you two, try to actually get some sleep. I ain't gonna check on ya, so humour me."
They both nodded, and Mercedes lead the way to the basement, calling her parents as they went, and hanging up by the time they reached the bottom of Kurt's steps. Then she let go of his hand and smacked him yet again.
"God! Mercedes, please stop – between the hugging and the hitting I'm going to be one big bruise tomorrow. You know how easily my skin gets marked up. I already have a sunburn – look."
She put her hands on her hips, glaring with far more intensity than she had earlier that night when he first arrived. "I don't care, Hummel." He winced, because she never called him by his last name unless supremely pissed off, "How in the hell could you worry everybody like that?"
"I didn't know there was an 'everybody' to worry!"
She gaped at him. "What are you talkin' about?"
Kurt stared around his room, avoiding eye contact. "I just . . . it felt like things had gone back to they way they were . . . before. And I didn't want them to. It was making me all weepy and depressed, on top of being bored, and that's why I've been acting like less than my stellar self. I'm sorry. I know I should've tried to talk to you about it but . . . I just didn't want to hear the confirmation. I didn't want things to change back."
Kurt walked away as Mercedes took all that in, turning on his bedside lamp and turning off the overhead lights. He slipped into his closet to grab some pyjamas for himself and for her – a light blue pair she left behind for occasions such as these, where they didn't necessarily plan on her staying over.
Kurt pulled off his shirt, grimacing at the state of it, and himself, come to think of it. He vowed to shower thoroughly the next . . . actually, that morning. He was reaching for the button on his jeans just before he remembered that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He froze, and then managed to cover it up with a smooth gesture at Mercedes' sleepwear. "You want to go ahead and get changed?"
Mercedes nodded, grabbing her PJs and heading into Kurt's bathroom. Once she was in there, he quickly shed his jeans, grabbed a new pair of boxer briefs and slipped everything on as fast as he could. By the time Mercedes had come back out, Kurt was dragging out the cot he kept in the back of his closet, and setting it up next to his bed.
His bed could fit two people with ease, but Mercedes had admitted to feeling a little uncomfortable sharing a bed with a guy – even if said guy was someone she trusted implicitly . . . and queerer than a three dollar bill. Kurt took no offense, understanding most of her logic himself, and even more so after that awkward crush that had befallen her. He took the cot, she took the bed, and not a word was spoken about it otherwise. Besides, he could kick like a ninja in his sleep and he would rather not subject his best friend to that.
"I get it," she said softly, and it took Kurt a minute to remember the thread of their conversation – exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him.
"You do?"
"Well, yeah – you think I haven't thought this whole year was some kind of crazy-ass dream? That I'll head to school one day, and Puck will be there, waiting with a slushie? That Finn won't even look at me in the hallways and that Santana and Quinn will only talk to me when they wanna tear someone down for fun?"
"Instead Quinn's one of your closest friends now, Finn's my almost-step-brother, you've dated Puck, and Santana and Brittany somewhat admit to knowing us, outside of Glee and Cheerios."
"Exactly." Mercedes waited until Kurt was comfortably wrapped up in his blankets before leaning over and shutting off the lamp on his night table.
The room went dark, except for the faintest hint of light, coming from the thin windows near his ceiling that let in the yellowish glow from the streetlamps.
"So," she continued on, shifting on the bed, "you do understand that everything's different now, right? I mean, who knows what'll happen next year, but no matter what, things are different. Finn living with you isn't gonna change anytime soon – I've seen how your dad and his mom are. And even if it all goes to hell, you still have me. And Tina. And Artie. And Rachel, and pretty boy, don't you even pretend like you still hate her guts – I know you don't."
"All right, fine – it's now more a mild sort of loathing that comes and goes depending on the volume of her voice. And the number of solos she gets."
"Kurt." Mercedes sounded tired herself. "I really think these people . . . they're our friends now. Like, for real."
"Yeah," he agreed, holding back a yawn. "Yeah, I think so too."
There was a long silence, and for a while Kurt thought Mercedes had fallen asleep until, "My money's on Puck for that bet, though."
"Pfft, I don't think so – the utter ridiculousness of the thing will totally cramp his style. Plus, I don't think he can pull it off. Maybe a darker toned skirt, perhaps in a shade of green –"
"Whatever, white boy – I'm totally betting you that Puck will take it. Just you watch. Quinn and I are already thinkin' of becoming bookies, so this'll be a great way to start out."
"Wow, were you ever productive today."
"Right, in-between worrying myself to death about you."
"I'm sorry. Truly, 'Cedes, I would never have done it had I known how freaked out you'd get."
"Don't apologize, I told you I get it. Just don't do it again, or next time, I will kick the crap out of you."
"Got it."
"And now I have ten other people to back me up. Includin' one that's the proud member of a fight club."
"I promise."
Another long silence, and then, so quiet Kurt could barely hear it, "I love you."
Kurt smiled into his pillow, a single tear escaping. He wiped it off and reached for Mercedes' hand. She must've been reaching for him as well, because they met in the middle. He entangled their fingers. "I love you too. And you're on for that bet – twenty bucks says Santana kicks his ass."
There was no reply but Kurt figured she had heard, and he drifted off, his best friend's hand wrapped around his. His wrist brushed against something strange on Mercedes' own, and just before he completely slipped into a deep and relaxing sleep, he realized that they were both still wearing their Brittany-made grass jewelry.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: I apologize for any sugar ODs – I told y'all it was sweet to a fault (enough not-angst for you, vcg73? ;) ).
Thank you so much for all the kind words and the like – you guys have been my motivation – and what excellent motivation you have been :)
I wouldn't mind hearing from you, if you so wish! Thank you all again for reading!
EDIT: Okay, now there is another chapter! I thought I was done, but then Cootisms suggested I write a final chapter with Burt, and that plot bunny has latched onto me and won't let go! So, click on to read the epilogue!