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The Puckermans are called into the police station the next day to give their statements. Procedure moves slowly in Lima, but at least they have the good grace to make sure Isaac is out on suspension under suspicion of a crime before bringing in his accusers.
They are sitting in a small interview room before a desk, Sarah in Rebekah's lap, when a cheery young female officer walks in with a stack of forms.
"Good morning and thank you for your time. I'm Officer Lora Davies and I'm handling your case. I have some standard forms here, so we can just start when you're ready. Do you have any questions?"
"Does my daughter really have to be here?"
"Mo-o-om!"
"Mrs. Puckerman, we will be taking her statement first and then you can take her into the other room."
"Mom, I don't wanna' leave Noah alone." Sarah drops from her mother's lap with an angry stomp and pouts her lip.
There is a momentary standoff in which Officer Davies offers to get them coffee in order to let them sort themselves out.
"Sarah," Rebekah barely looks like she can handle this, "Noah needs to speak with the officer. We'll just be down the hall."
"But-"
"I don't want to have this argument."
"Bucket?"
Sarah spins to her brother, who beckons her into his lap. She climbs up and lays her head against his chest.
Noah continues, "It's sweet that you want to be here for me, but I'm going to have to tell the police a lot of bad stuff that I don't want you to hear."
"But, I was there! I already heard it!"
"God, don't say that. I... It kills me that you heard that." Puck needs to take a moment to calm himself, then brings home his point, "Mom is trying to do the best by both of us here. After you answer the officer's questions, I want you to go with her, and no fussing." He taps her nose to lighten the scold.
Sarah slides off her brother's lap and returns to her mother's. She wraps her little arms as far around Rebekah's waist as they will go, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't fuss."
Rebekah kisses her daughter's head and turns to her son, "Thank you."
Officer Davies returns, mysteriously coffee-less, and tidies her stack of papers. When she sits, her face isn't much higher than Sarah's, which might be the point.
"Hello, Sarah. Are you ready to talk about what happened on Friday?"
Sarah nods solemnly.
"Okay, I want you to tell it to me like it's a story. Start wherever you need to start, and take your time. I'll listen to everything you have to say, and I'll write it down here. Can you do that for me?"
Sarah nods, and as the silence continues, she realizes it's her turn to talk, "I was playing in my room because Mrs. Kim was sick and we didn't have Brownies. I was supposed to tell Noah to watch me, but he was playing with Kurt and he doesn't like when I bother them. Then they started doing loud kissy-face things, and I was going to play my music, but I heard Isaac get home and he doesn't like music, and then I heard him go into Noah's room and there was a lot of yelling." Sarah stops here, looking sad at the memory.
Puck would feel mortified that not only did his little sister hear him fooling around, but she had a regular plan of action, except she's about to explain her experience of his boyfriend's (he doesn't think "ex" yet) rape, so there is really no ground for that seed of thought to take purchase.
Officer Davies responds, "Did you hear any of the words that were yelled?"
"No, I just heard yells. But, then Kurt screamed, and that's when I called Mommy."
"You were very brave to do so. I'm going to show you a group of photos. Only you get to see them, okay? I need you to come up to the desk."
Sarah does, and looks down at the indicated photos, a frown forming on her sweet face.
'Sarah, could you tell me which one of these men is Isaac?"
The young girl points at the leftmost image on the bottom row, "That's him."
"You've done very well, Sarah. You're all done. Thank you very much." Officer Davies turns her attention to Rebekah, "You can take her to the break room now. It's four doors to your left. Please shut the door when you leave, and if you need anything, Officer Paul is working in reception."
Rebekah puts a hand on her son's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"
Puck nods once, "I'm good, Mom."
"Okay. Come on, Sarah. I'll buy you something from the vending machine." With that, Puck is alone with the officer.
He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable about what he's going to have to re-live.
Officer Davies offers an encouraging smile, "This is the hardest part, but it's the part that ensures you get the best possible outcome. Like I told your sister, you take all the time you need, and I'll just listen and take notes."
It takes over an hour for Noah to list every detail. He breaks down three times, but when he's done, he's finally not the only person to know exactly what he experienced, and that means a lot.
Kurt wakes up knowing it's Sunday: the last day of the weekend, the day before the workweek, the last day with his dad's around-the-clock protection. He hasn't even realized how important that was to him until he is faced with losing it. To cope, Kurt decides to soak up as much Dad time as possible while he has him.
For a second day in a row, Kurt skips his skin-care regimen and finds his dad in the kitchen.
"Morning, Kurt! I was just planning breakfast. Any requests?"
"I could make omelets."
"Oh, you don't have to cook."
"Okay, can you make omelets?"
"I can make waffles."
"We had those yesterday. Here, I'll show you how to make omelets."
"Sounds good to me."
Bonding experience achieved.
Kurt lets his dad give folding the omelets a try, so they end up looking less like half-circles and more like burritos, but they taste the same and both Hummels are laughing, so breakfast is a definite success.
They move into the living room, a weekend morning ritual, to find Finn still snoring on the couch, one leg over the armrest and the other propped on the coffee table.
"How does he do that?" Burt laughs.
"The sleeping past breakfast or the finding comfort in such an awkward position?"
"Both."
"He's a normal teenage boy."
Burt pulls his son into a half-hug, "I guess I just lucked out to get a kid who doesn't waste half his day in bed."
Kurt leans his head into his dad's shoulder in appreciation, "Yeah, but now that we have inherited such a kid, how will we watch our morning news?"
"Oh, I think the bedroom TV will give us our 'Wake Up, Ohio' if we ask it nicely enough."
Burt leads them upstairs to his room.
"Where's Carole?"
"Carole gets up earlier than we do. She went grocery shopping just before you found me in the kitchen."
"Ah, no doubt getting more of that fattening food I can't seem to turn down."
"You know she just does it because she loves you."
"I do. Dad, I know I was technically the one to set you up and all, but thanks for being with Carole. She makes a really great addition to our family. Finn too, but don't tell him I said so."
The Hummel men make seats for themselves with pillows against the headboard and tune into their favorite newscaster. As Susie Cornbow introduces the third story, their posture becomes more of a lazy lean as their pillows slide down the polished wood.
Susie drawls on about a pharmacy scandal and a new diet craze, then moves on to a report about a gun being found in an elementary school playground.
It's unloaded, unyielded, and just a picture on the god damn screen, for goodness sake, but it triggers something in Kurt, and he'll find the irony of that phrase hilarious later.
His breath quickens, and he's just not getting enough air. It's scary, just as scary as that stupid gun. He begins to sweat, his fingers gripping into the sheets. He needs help, now, or he's going to die.
Kurt manages a tiny distressed squeak to alert his father, so maybe he can help him breathe again.
Burt turns in confusion, and his eyes widen when they meet the image of his son, "Kurt, what's wrong?"
Kurt's panting breaths don't leave room for an explanation. The terror in his eyes is all he can communicate.
"Okay, okay, breathe. In and out. Slow. You can do this."
He can't!
Burt grabs Kurt's chin and brings their faces close, "Follow me. In slow..."
Kurt gasps in a shaky throatful of air,
"Now out."
Kurt exhales, gasps, and finishes exhaling. Better.
"Again. In... Out... In... Out..."
Burt coaches his son until he's absolutely sure he can maintain his own life.
"You okay there, Buddy?"
Kurt just nods, still not trusting his mouth to do anything but breathe.
"Okay. You were giving me quite the scare there. You want to tell me what that was all about?"
Kurt points to the TV, which is now showing an image of a county fair.
Burt turns to the TV, knows the answer is no longer there, and faces his son again with all the patience in the world.
"You need something to help? Water? Paper bag? I can go-"
Burt is cut off when his son's body slams into his own. Kurt wraps his arms around Burt's waist and holds tight, still breathing like it's a chore.
"Okay, I'll stay right here." Burt rubs his kid's back, which turns into breathing assistance as he moves up Kurt's back when he needs to inhale and down when he needs to exhale, "This helping, Kiddo?"
Kurt nods and his grip on his father slackens. "The gun."
"What gun?"
"The one on TV. No, not that gun. The gun he had."
Burt only refers to Isaac with the vague pronoun, as well, so he follows, "I remember you told the police he had a gun."
Kurt nods, "I just- I forgot what he did with it. I've been focusing on how he could have killed Noah, I forgot what he actually did with the gun. Dad, he was going to kill me. He had it to my head; he almost did it!" Kurt has to school his breathing again.
Burt grasps his son under the knees and shoulders and cradles him to his chest. Somehow, in a hospital interview that had seemed so fucking thorough, Kurt had left out the majority of the gun details, and now Burt gets to deal with terror renewed. He almost lost his baby, and with all the horrible things that happened to Kurt, that brings the most fear to Burt's heart.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt."
"I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to, but I was so sure..." Kurt sounds defeated.
"You didn't. You're here, you're safe, you're with people who love you."
"I love you, too, Dad. I'm glad I got to see you again."
"Hey, we've got lots more years ahead, you watch."
Kurt nods against his chest.
The front door opens and Kurt tenses.
Burt understands his son's fear, "Carole, is that you?"
The voice that responds up the stairs is low but strong, a compromise between letting Finn keep sleeping and announcing her presence, "Yes, it's me, and I come bearing tapioca pudding."
Kurt groans into Burt's chest, "She wants me fat."
Burt laughs. One minute his kid is in a hysterical panic, and the next he's cracking a joke. Okay, he can keep up.
The news ends, and Carole probably needs help with the groceries, so it makes perfect sense that the Hummels would leave the room now. That means separating, and being held makes Kurt feel safer, and this is his dad, and it's his last day with him...
"Dad? Can we... stay for a while... like this?"
Burt's throat is a little tight when he responds, "Sure, Kurt."
That's how they are when Carole walks into the room ten minutes later. She hesitates by the doorway, not wanting to disturb this tender moment, but when Kurt reaches a hand to her and smiles, she feels far too welcome not to join in.
Carole leans against what had been Kurt's pillows and Kurt reaches forward and grasps her hand. It's sweet and wonderful and Carole has never felt like more of a part of this family than right now.
"Hey, Mom-For-A-Week."
Carole smiles, "I'm your Mom-For-As-Long-As-You'll-Have-Me."
Kurt's smile grows, "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Sweety."
"I give you control of the remote," Kurt indicates the device by his hip, "but I warn you, if anything golf-related shows up on that TV, you will be faced with Double Hummel Scorn."
Burt and Kurt give identical "You'd Better Believe It" looks that have Carole dying. "No golf! I promise! Now, I don't agree with much of what your father watches, but I know something you and I can agree upon." She chooses DIY, where they are currently renovating a master bedroom.
Kurt gasps and makes a sound very similar to a squeal, "Makeovers!"
Burt smiles gratefully at his girlfriend. Anything that makes Kurt happy right now is golden.
They make it through three room "makeovers," cuddling close and quietly smiling, before Burt interrupts, "So, Kurt, I'm thinking about tomorrow. I've got the rep from the city coming in to discuss school bus repair, but I was figuring you could come into working with me, hang out with the cars, click around on the computer..."
"I'm not willing to put up with DOS."
"It's not that old!"
"Dad, I just don't think I can be around strangers yet."
Burt's face falls into something like guilt or remorse, "Well, then, I'll just take the day off."
"Dad, you just said you had an important meeting. The city is a major client."
"Well, that was before I knew you wouldn't be there."
"You can leave me home. I'll be fine."
"I know that, I've just liked spending all this time with you."
Kurt gives him a look.
"I have! Fine, I also don't want to leave you alone. Carole has work and Finn has football. There won't be anyone here for you."
Kurt nods, considering his father's point. It's hard to get high and mighty about such things when not two hours ago you needed help just breathing. "I'll call Mercedes. She's coming back from the Jones 4th of July Weekend / Family Reunion / Great Grandmother's Birthday Barbecue tonight."
"That's a great idea. I like Mercedes. Call her tonight to make sure she'll be here in the morning."
Carole squeezes Kurt's hand, "Are you going to tell her?"
Kurt frowns, "I don't know. She's my best friend, but it would be nice to have one person who doesn't know, who treats me like they used to."
Carole nods, looking at their linked hands and Burt's arms wrapped around the boy protectively. She understands. "Just remember that she loves you and she won't judge."
Kurt nods. That is all true.
"I broke up with Noah." Kurt doesn't even know the words are coming until they are out of his mouth.
Both parents just nod.
"You knew."
Two nods again.
"How?"
Carole answers, "We were in the living room when you kicked him out."
Kurt looks ashamed, so Carole adds, "Honey, you were doing what you felt you needed to do. Being true to yourself is important."
"I don't know what I need. I just... it was too much."
"That's fine. Today, it's too much. Tomorrow, maybe it will be easier."
"Mom?" Finn calls from somewhere downstairs.
"Oh, I should go see what he's up to," Carole starts to pull away.
"We're up here!" Kurt beckons.
Carole stills, "Are you sure?"
Kurt nods, "Family time."
Finn's long legs bring him to the doorway in seconds, "What's going on here?"
Kurt raises the hand he has locked with Carole's, "I have commandeered your mother."
Finn grins, "Yeah, but I've already eaten three of your pudding cups."
Kurt mock-gasps as Finn slides between Kurt and Carole, laying his head on his mother's shoulder and bringing up his knees to keep his feet off the ground.
"Nice trade, Darling Son of Mine," Carole taps his forehead. "And, you leave the rest of those for Kurt."
"What are we watching?" Finn picks up the remote and immediately changes the channel.
Family time.
When Puck arrives back at home, he is more broken than he had been. He feels like he's lost everything, and he knows he's being overly dramatic, but damn it, why did he have to lose Kurt? He can handle everything so long as he has Kurt. 'God, I'm such a girl.'
He raids the Hudson kitchen for sweet release, but apparently Carole doesn't believe in self-medication.
Checking his wallet for his fake ID, Puck heads out to the nearest bar. 'It's the middle of the afternoon on God's day of rest. Definitely time for this Jew to get drunk.'
There's no real need for his fake ID. The bartender knows him, or at least the twenty-three-year-old him, and has a Natty on the counter before he even sits.
It's good to be home.
Five beers later, a limitation placed on him by his wallet and not his liver, he's getting hit on my some bottle-blonde MILF who likely spends every Sunday holding onto a barstool.
His first instinct is to blow her off. He's been a committed man for a while and the behavior has become ingrained. Then, he remembers Kurt telling him he needs to be with women. Maybe this is his chance. 'Get with Botox, have a terrible time, convince Kurt I did what was asked, get Kurt back.'
"Hey, Hotstuff, you live around here?"
Here's his chance. "Nah, just passing through." The perfect one night stand line.
She grins and extends her hand, "Same here. Name's Kat."
"Puck," he shakes her hand.
"Like a hockey puck?"
"Like where are you staying?"
"Ooo, a man who knows what he's after. I can't remember the name of the hotel, but I can show you."
She grabs Puck's hand and leads him to the parking lot. She's a little more forward than Puck is used to, but he's not all that into this, so he probably needs her to be.
Kat drives a Corvette. Unexpected, considering she is so poorly put together, but that might just be the booze. If Puck were more sober, he might have reconsidered letting a drunk drive him around, but they arrive at the hotel, so... crisis averted!
She grabs his hand again and leads him to her room.
She's impatient, kissing him soundly before sticking her key in the hole.
Puck trips over the threshold, allowing Kat to easily tug him into the bed.
Both of their shirts are on the floor in an instant and it's all moving really fast, so Puck just goes on instinct.
Her bra is easy to unhook and her breasts are warm and full in his hands. She moans, grasping at his sculpted biceps and washboard abs.
Kat slide her own jeans down her thighs and Puck can smell her arousal. He slips his fingers under red silk to find slick heat. He runs his fingers over her, watching her back arch as he stalls to give himself a chance to harden.
He swirls his index finger around her entrance before plunging in.
Kat screams.
Kurt had screamed.
Puck freaks.
He retracts his hand and is across the room before he shouts, "Shit, did I hurt you?"
Kat just laughs, "No, Baby, it felt good." Her voice turns into a purr, "I'm a screamer."
Suddenly, this isn't the brilliant idea Puck thought it was. He's in a hotel room with a stranger whom his fingers now smell like, and Kurt may have dumped him but this still feels like cheating and why would Kurt want him back now? 'Fuck!'
"I-I'm sorry, I have to go." It's about as polite as Puck can be as he grabs his shirt and runs from the room, the hotel, his stupid mistake.
