Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen.
Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff
Chapter Seven: Dick's Leftovers
Almost a week had gone by before Tina felt that the moment was right to move into the next stage in "the plan". The Asian girl had no idea why Santana had to be so damn melodramatic all the time. But the Latina had insisted on doing stupid air-quotes every time she mentioned "the plan" and so it was now firmly entrenched in Tina's mind too.
Tina shook her head still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was walking down the hallway shoulder-to-shoulder, both physically and metaphorically, with the school bitch Santana Lopez. If anyone had asked the Asian girl even just 48 hours earlier whether she'd be voluntarily working with Santana on anything she'd have drop kicked them in the head for just daring to be so stupid.
The only consolation Tina could find for having voluntarily stepped into the ninth circle of Hell - which was where Santana lived of course - was the knowledge that the Cheerio was going to put her plan into motion whether the Asian girl was there or not. At least this way; God, dare she say it, by befriending Santana; Tina could at least be there to fend off some of her more crazy ideas.
Take for instance, Santana's sudden interest of late in finding a plausible way to separate Finn from his penis and to make it look like an accident. That was just twisted; there was no other word for it.
'...the bitch needs help...'
Reaching an intersection, Tina nodded goodbye as Santana peeled off in order to head the opposite direction towards Coach Sylvester's office. Spotting Mercedes digging around in her locker, the Asian girl sauntered up behind Mercedes and waited for her to finish loading up her bag. Before the black girl's locker door had even slammed shut, Tina had snagged her arm causing Mercedes to squeak in surprise; only becoming aware of Tina's presence at that precise moment.
"We have to talk..." stage-whispered Tina quickly as she half-steered, half-dragged Mercedes off in the direction of the nearest bathroom. The Asian girl ignored the look of concern thrown her way by the black girl.
"Oh Hell...", muttered 'cedes catching a glimpse of Santana sketching a final goodbye salute in Tina's direction before she disappeared out of sight around a corner, "...what did our friendly neighbourhood sociopath do now?"
"It's not that...", said Tina as she led her friend into the girl's bathroom and began checking each stall systematically to ensure they were alone.
In the hallway, the girls could hear the bell ringing signifying that classes were beginning, but by this point in their school careers, the teachers' at WMHS had come to expect the Gleeks to wander late into class. There's an art to a successful de-slushieing and getting it absolutely right takes time. Knowing this the Glee girls had started to take advantage of the lax monitoring of their tardiness to have small conversations between classes - or to ditch entirely.
Leaning against the bank of mirrors; Mercedes waited for Tina to finish her sweep and get to the point. Crossing her arms over her substantial chest, the black girl tapped a staccato rhythm on the floor tile with the toe of her shoe in her impatience.
"What's the matter with you today, Tiny?"
Tina turned to level Mercedes with a glare at the use of her unappreciated nickname; she was perfectly tall for her height thank you very much; and her expression seemed to communicate that very thought quite effectively. Mercedes however just raised a single eyebrow, not intimidated by having incurred the Asian girl's ire in the slightest.
Tina crossed to the bank of sinks before hopping up onto the worktop and drawing her legs up to her chest. Mercedes superior smirk dropped from her face realising that whatever was eating at her friend, it was certainly something important to Tina.
Mercedes ceased her tapping on the floor tile and waited in silence for Tina to get whatever it was she had to say off of her chest.
"I think I'm going to break up with Mike...", mumbled Tina, her voice almost so soft that it didn't carry to the black girl.
Mercedes jaw dropped open in shock as Tina quickly looked down and away unable to look the black girl in the eye. This was harder then the Asian girl thought it would be and her heart ached at finally putting voice to the decision she had reached some time ago.
Daring to look up - mostly in fear as Mercedes had yet to explode in anger - Tina was stunned into silence by the expression on her friend's face. Mercedes looked so supportive and hurt on her behalf while still managing to looks surprised and indignant.
Telling Mercedes about her intentions was always going to be a sticky subject - Mercedes and Mike had been friends from Kindergarten; thrown together as the only two non-white kids in their class. Though they had perhaps let things drift a little as they had gotten older; each choosing their own social circles; neither had forgotten that they were each other's first friend. The bond was still strong between them and the Asian girl had been worried that Mercedes would hate her for wanting to break up with Mike.
Tina continued to talk, hugging her legs closer to her chest as she betrayed her own nervousness by beginning to rock back and forward.
"... I was uh - really hoping you could be there for him when it happens. I mean Mike doesn't really have any friends the really get the whole emotion thing. They'd probably just tell him to suck it up and get over it; and that's not good advice. You know how sensitive Mike can be..."
"But... I don't... you were...", Mercedes shock was clear to hear in her tone of voice as she spluttered her way through her reply. Tina cringed and seemed to shrink in on herself causing Mercedes to snap her mouth shut with an audible click and compose her thoughts.
A few seconds of silence passed in the empty bathroom as the black girl considered her possible responses. In the end she settled on responding with humour; both Tina and Mike where her friends, so she couldn't pick one over the other. She'd support both of them equally when the time came.
"OK...but why in the blue blazes would you break up with suck a fine set of abs? And yes Mike and I have known each other for a long time but why would I be the person that he would want to spill his guts to?"
"Well...," sighed Tina unable to stop her lip from twitching at the jibe about Mike's abs, "... I don't want him to hurt alone. I know that if left to his own devices Mike would just bottle it all up and its not healthy. I mean can you imagine Puck and Finn trying to sympathise with him? Two of the most emotionally stunted people I've ever met in my life..."
Tina looked up, the plea clear in her eyes for Mercedes to help her and to accede to her request.
"Plus...", said Tina reaching out and grabbing Mercedes' hand in her own, "... you two have been friends forever, you know his moods, how he thinks... I just know that you can help him get over this."
'In more ways than one..."
Mercedes seemed unsure of what to do, but the earnest expression on Tina's face finally broke through the girl's reservations about favouring one friend over another.
"OK, I'll buy that...", said Mercedes, agreeing to Tina's request and squeezing the girl's hand in support, "... but don't for a minute think I'm overlooking the fact that you still have not told me why you are doing this girl; or that you didn't answer my question about Mike's incredible Asian-abs."
Mention of the term 'Asian' sparked an inferno of rebellion in Tina as months of bottled up frustration finally bubbled to the surface.
"I'm not a super Asian!...", screamed Tina hopping down from the counter and throwing her hands in the air as she paced the floor in agitation, "... it's all that Mike and I have in common other then Glee. I mean, the first part of my last name is Cohen - Jewish for cryin' out loud! And yet, everyone ignores that - even Rachel - another Jew!"
Tina's pacing seemed to slow as the fire of her indignation quickly burned itself out, leaving an emotionally exhausted shell of a person behind. Leaning back against the counter, Tina looked to the skies, her eyes burning with sudden tears which the girl refused to allow to fall. Sighing and letting her chin drop to her chest, hiding her face behind a curtain of ebony hair, Tina spoke softly once again.
"I'm just so tired of stupid Asian kisses. Just once I'd like to go to the movies and not see an Asian film. Just once I'd like to do something on a Saturday night that doesn't involve a family get together and endless drunk uncles with wandering hands. Just once, I want...", Tina's voice faded away as she realised what she was about to admit to, "... I want to be seen as more than that."
A single tear escaped from Tina's iron grip to track down her cheek and splash onto the floor tiles at the exact moment that Mercedes pulled the Asian girl towards her and into a crushing embrace.
"It's OK honey...", murmured Mercedes into Tina's ear as the girl tried to regain her composure, "... just do what you need to do. I'll be there to help pick up the pieces."
Tina smiled into Mercedes shoulder through her tears hearing the determination in the black girl's voice,
"Thank you - you have no idea how much that helps me...", whispered Tina as she pulled back from the embrace to give a watery smile to Mercedes, "... I know Mike will be in good hands."
Checking her watch, Tina wiped at her eyes and mumbled as they headed back out to the now deserted hallway; class being well into session by that point,
"Better get to class I guess - thanks 'cedes..."
"No problem Tiny..."
As she parted from Mercedes to head towards class, Tina smiled. Breakups were never easy - and this one was in some ways harder than all the others as Mike was a truly nice guy - but at least, if she and Santana played their cards right, it might have a happy ending; for all of them.
'Hanging out with friends sucks...'
Kurt scowled as he sat idly in front of the piano in the Warbler's music room. Practice that day had been canceled due to some upper level testing so Kurt didn't even have the 'joys' of Ke$ha to distract him from how utterly lonely he was.
Hanging out with the Gleeks the weekend before had only made Kurt's sense of isolation worse. The brunette knew that it wasn't their intention to make him feel even worse; they had all gone out of their way to make him feel wanted and special; but a part of Kurt that he couldn't control wished that Santana had never dreamed up her party idea.
The past week hadn't improved Kurt's disposition any; his heavily revised paper for Dr Dimples had thankfully squeaked a passing grade, but other than that rather mediocre of high points, the rest of the week had sucked ass.
It had all started to go wrong on Monday evening when Kurt had broken his iPod. The soprano had been returning from the observatory on the top floor after their Astronomy class when he'd been jostled on the wide marble staircase and dropped the precious gadget, left with no option but to watch in horror as his entire music collection bounced down to the Main Foyer spitting chips of broken glass like tear-drops along the way.
'And another thing, who takes Astronomy anymore? This is Ohio, not Hogwarts!'
Then, on Tuesday, Kurt had run out of what little moisturiser he had left and ever since had been too busy to obtain more. That was despite having sent pleading messages for a Red Cross package to both his Dad and Carole. And so as a result, the soprano's skin was dry and flaky - or so Kurt was convinced anyway.
By the time Friday had come around, Kurt was tired, depressed and in dire need of a Gaga-fix. And now, his best substitute for lack of Gaga, the Warblers and Ke$ha had been cruelly ripped from under him too.
It was almost easier when Kurt had felt forgotten. Now all the soprano could think about was the fact that he had chosen to abandon his friends. He had taken the easy way out in the face of adversity and that was not a situation Kurt was used to - or would have ever considered accepting in the past.
'I should have just let Puck form his stupid protection detail...'
And so his music was gone. Kurt had never realised just how much New Directions functioned as a unit until he had joined the Warblers. With New Directions, everyone was friends with everyone else - despite their differences. But at Dalton, everyone was cloistered into their own little groupings and the ruling council ensured that there was no free exchange of ideas.
It just - it wasn't as fun as New Directions had been.
Still, Kurt thought as he glanced around the empty cavernous room, with it's high ceilings and great acoustics, he alone now, both literally and emotionally. And that meant that they couldn't stop him from singing anything he wanted if they weren't around.
Kurt ran his fingers over the cool keys before him as he absently tapped middle C and considered his choices. What to sing? The soprano had simply been drifting around for so long, unable to make suggestions of choices of his own for so long, that now he didn't know what he wanted anymore.
Closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but the beating of his own heart, Kurt's fingers glided over the keys, pulling a slow and simple melody from the ebony and ivory and layering his soft vocals over the top.
"A dream is a wish your heart makes
when you're fast asleep.
In dreams you will lose your heartache,
whatever you wish for you keep..."
Kurt's voice was soft and held a distinct tone of sadness as he sang. When he'd been younger - before his Mom had died - Kurt had watched Cinderella with his Mom every Sunday afternoon and they'd sang along with all of the songs. Kurt hadn't been this lonely since the day after his Mom had passed on - the day he'd realised as an 8 year old that he had lost his best friend. Almost eight years on to the day, Kurt could clearly feel the same stab of loss in the centre of his heart that he'd felt all those years ago.
"Have faith in your dreams and someday, someday,
your rainbow will come smiling through.
No matter how your heart is grieving,
if you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true..."
Kurt ducked his head and sighed softly as he lifted his finger off of the final key and the note died away into nothingness.
'I miss you Mom...'
"I love Disney..."
Kurt jumped at the unexpected but familiar voice from behind him.
Craning his head over his shoulder, Kurt smiled softly in greeting to Blaine who was standing in the doorway, his blazer slung over his arm and his tie and top button undone.
"Who doesn't?...", replied Kurt turning back to the piano and playing a few single notes.
Kurt was all too aware of Blaine's presence as the older boy sank down onto the bench beside him, their thighs brushing together in the close proximity. The brunette cursed his over active hormones as his heart began to beat faster and the blood which had been powering his brain suddenly rushed to power his blush.
"Kurt...", Blaine started to say before trailing off into silence.
"...Is fabulous, talented and handsome and I simply find him amazing?", asked Kurt with a nervous chuckle.
"Yeah actually...", agreed Blaine before the usually confident and debonair Warbler glanced down and away in apparent embarrassment.
Quickly, before Kurt could properly react to what was happening, one of Blaine's hand moved to capture the brunette's cheek, and with the other Blaine entwined his finger's with Kurt's. The two boys eyes met, one hopeful, one shocked, as Blaine lowered his head towards Kurt steadily until his soft lips pressed against Kurt's firmer ones.
It was almost like someone had been listening to his hopes and dreams and had decided to answer them, thought Kurt as he sighed into the kiss. The soprano smiled as a surprisingly strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer and flush against Blaine's frame. Automatically, without any consideration, Kurt's arms came up to wrap themselves around Blaine's neck, his hands twisting in the hair at the base of the Warbler's neck as the smaller boy pressed himself into the warmth that was being offered to him.
This was perfect and exactly as Kurt had dreamed that his first kiss with a boy - a boy he liked - would be. Except...
"What about Dick?...", asked Kurt as he pulled back to catch his breath, a healthy glow now suffusing his rosy cheeks.
"Awesome, we can take this further. I mean, if you want...", answered Blaine answered grinning down at the soprano.
"No..." replied Kurt, as his brow furrowed at Blaine's uncharacteristic response, "...Dick. You know, Ricky. The boy you were serenading a few days ago?"
"Oh...", Blaine answered looking down at his hands, "... never mind him, he hooked up with Jeremy. But that means that we can do stuff together."
Kurt's heart dropped and his expression closed off at the same time. For a moment - just a moment - Kurt had felt his wish coming true. That finally, a boy he liked had wanted him back. It was hot and hard and there, but it wasn't real. A lump came to Kurt's throat as he asked a question of Blaine that he knew would not result in a good answer - it couldn't.
"So I'm what - the consolation prize?"
"Kurt, don't be like that...", Kurt was surprised by the stringent, almost condescending tone in Blaine's voice - it was not a tone of voice that the soprano had come to associate with the older boy, "... I know you want me."
Blaine's hands which had remained firmly locked around Kurt's waist began to wander, causing the soprano to have to push himself away and up into a standing position.
Kurt was angry. Really angry - and hurt - he was better than that. He was better than some cheap second prize date because the first prize was won by someone else. He had standards.
Placing a hand on his hip, Kurt levelled his best glare at Blaine and noted that the taller boy paused in launching into an expected entreaty.
"For your information, I might have been attracted to you but I've started seeing someone else."
Kurt crowed internally seeing the flash of jealousy that crossed Blaine's face at the announcement.
'Now who's the consolation prize!'
Blaine seemed unable to put form to his words for a few seconds before noticeably swallowing around a lump in his throat.
"...Who?", asked the Warbler, his eyes becoming watery as he looked away from the smaller singer.
'Who? Ah... crap!'
"Ummmm...," Kurt replied scrambling for an answer.
Unfortunately, before this bout of temporary insanity that Blaine seemed to be having, Kurt had spent a lot of time talking to the older boy leaving Blane fairly acquainted with the goings on at McKinley High. He couldn't just come up with any name and have Blaine buy it.
"Noah...", he finally blurted out unable to think of a better - and believable - option.
Several seconds passed with Blaine not saying or doing anything as Kurt sat waiting for the Warbler to call him on what; let's face it; was a terrible lie.
"The sex shark...", said Blaine wryly.
Blaine put his hands on his knees before pushing himself to his feet.
"I guess I just waited too long to see what was right in front of me then. I'm sorry Kurt. I'm..."
Shaking his head, Blaine turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance. _
Puck was bored. It seemed like every weekend the same MILFs were calling and asking for threesomes with him and their daughters.
After a while, even that can get old.
Quickly checking both ways, Puck threaded himself between two oncoming cars and across the street. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the half-back wandered down the sidewalk aimlessly, as he did yet another circle of the block.
'Insomnia is a bitch...'
Puck supposed that he should be pissed at Santana; royally pissed. She had after all made him, you know, think about stuff ever since she had called him that night. And Puck hadn't really been able to get his strut back ever since then.
'Why did Hummel have to be such a damn good kisser?'
Puck didn't really think of himself as a bad person, but then again, Puck didn't really stop to think about how others perceived him at all.
Rooting around in his pocket, Puck pulled out his cell and stared at the blank screen. Santana had said that they were good at being friends, but Puck didn't even know if that was true. He had fucked up his friendship with Finn...twice, and didn't really have anyone else that he hung out with.
The only people in his life that he hadn't fucked up his relationships with were his Mom and his Sister. Hardly an impressive feat as they literally couldn't get rid of him. It was like, the law or some shit...
Looking down at his phone, Puck thought, 'Just ring. Give me a chance to be something.'
The piece of plastic and silicon remained stubbornly silent.
A sudden fury suddenly overtook the jock as he gripped the cell in the palm of his hand, and channelling the best of Finn Hudson, the jock screamed.
"Fuck you!..."
The small cell flew threw the air, spinning end over end for what felt like ages before it landed in some bushes about fifty yards away.
Then, of course, it started ringing.
"Fuck!"
Puck had a choice. Option one; he could dive into the bushes in a very unabashed way and try to find his phone, or Option two; he could walk away and let it ring.
"Fuck!"
He dove.
The world was ending. For some strange, stupid, idiotic reason, Kurt had allowed his ethics and pride to get in the way of a boy he honestly had a crush on kissing him.
It wasn't working. Kurt just couldn't convince himself to deal with Dick's leftovers. He shouldn't have to deal with Dick's leftovers; he was better than that.
Huffing and flopping over onto his back, Kurt stared at the ceiling of his dorm room and tried to ignore the cacophony of sound that was Buckley and his displaced septum - God that boy could snore!
There was nothing that could make this better. Well, that wasn't strictly true; Jessie Metcalfe knocking down his door and declaring his undying love for him could make things a whole lot better; but that was unlikely to happen so once again Kurt just had to accept that he was on his own.
But he was not getting through the night on his own. This was a deep shame spiral. Like, several pounds of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and Susan Boyle and Josh Groben on an endless repeat sorta thing.
But Kurt, unable to stifle the groan as the realisation hit - his iPod had been smashed to bits. This could be bad.
Now that Blaine had gone off the deep end, and Buckley had still only wheezed out a sum total of a few sentences to him, Kurt knew that his salvation would have to come from outside of Dalton.
Kurt reached for his cellphone and began scrolling through the contacts. The brunette supposed his first port of call really should be Mercedes. He could call the black girl and she was sure to come running with the things that Kurt needed. Add to that the added bonus that it would be wonderful to see her fabulous self and Kurt was almost halfway through dialling before his thumb connected with the cancel button.
There was of course an obvious downside: 'cedes Mom was one of the strictest women on the face of the Earth. Hell, the formidable Mrs Jones made Madonna look like a Stepford Wife and would without doubt kill her daughter for leaving the house at - Kurt checked the clock on his cell screen - 12.43am. The same wrath - from different mothers obviously - would apply to both Tina and Quinn were Kurt to call them.
Brittany would come if Kurt asked, but the blonde might get lost on the way and end up in Cincinnati like that that time she'd gone out to get bubblegum and never came back. Santana would come, but the Latina would no doubt end up extorting Kurt for the privilege of her assistance. Plus Santana was almost guaranteed to end up hooking up with a Dalton jock, and that would just make things so much worse.
Rachel would just end up scolding and then lecturing him if he asked for her help - the sooner that the girl ended up in a cult compound somewhere with blank eyes and monotone voice the better. Or Broadway; Kurt'd settle for Broadway.
Finn, obviously wasn't an option as the Quarterback was not exactly light on his feet and would no doubt wake the entire house trying to sneak out - he'd done so before after all. Plus if caught, Finn was an atrocious liar and would end up telling his Dad.
Running out of names to consider, Kurt continued to scroll through his phone considering and discarding options in split seconds. Kurt wasn't that close to Mike so asking him to bring him moisturiser at 1am would be weird. Artie wouldn't be able to come without first waking his Dad and getting loaded into his SUV to make the trip.
Scrolling to the end of the list, Kurt's eyes landed on one of the most recent addition to his contact list. Pressing the button he placed the phone to his ear, and listened to the ring as he waited for the line to connect.
"Hello?", asked a husky voice, clearly just woken from sleep.
Kurt smiled and tried to put as much cheer into his tone as possible. The soprano was not concerned with waking Buckley; Kurt's room-mate slept with earplugs in to stop his own snoring from waking him. Nothing short of an earthquake was going to wake him at this point.
"Sam, my platinum haired Knight in shining armour. How do you feel about coming to rescue a fair Hummel trapped in an ivory tower?"
Several seconds passed as Kurt could hear creaking and thumping on the other end of the line. The brunette imagined Sam sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.
'Stop imagining Sam naked in bed... stop it...'
"Kurt? Is that you? Why are you imaging me naked?"
Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair as he was caught by the sleepy boy muttering to himself under his breath.
"Yes Sam, it's me and I have had a truly horrible day. Would it be possible for you to spring me from this popsicle stand for the evening?"
Thankfully Sam was as laid back as they came and made no further sport of Kurt's earlier mutterings. The brunette was to be disappointed however,
"Sorry 007, you'll have to put the Martini's on ice; my car is at your Dad's shop. Can I spring you another night?"
Kurt's heart sank as he collapsed back against his pillows again in despondency.
"Kurt?"
"Huh - oh, sorry Sam...", mumbled Kurt trying desperately to keep his tone light despite the fact he just wanted to cry, "... don't worry about it Sam. Another time."
"Definitely. Bye Kurt."
"Bye..."
Kurt hung up.
Well, this was completely unacceptable. Sighing, Kurt realised that he had one little option now. Flicking to his contacts, Kurt pulled up the required entry and with taking a deep breath, he hit dial. Hanging with Sam would have been new and interesting - this call had the potential to be suicidal.
'Desperate times call for desperate measures...'
Tapping a second number in his phone, Kurt once again waited for the line to connect. This was so not a good idea but there was little alternative.
"Sup...", Puck answered panting and slightly out of breath.
Kurt cringed as he asked the first question that popped into his head,
"Sweet Bette Midler, you are not having sex right now while talking to me on the phone are you?"
"Can you hear any ecstatic female screaming and panting?..." despite his bravado, Puck was slightly hurt that sex was all Kurt thought he was capable of and felt the need to come clean, "... Nah Hummel, I'm just working on my guns. What's up?"
Though Noah couldn't see him Kurt still blushed at the thought of the half-back, most likely stripped to the waist and sweaty.
"Never-mind, this was a poorly conceived notion. I apologize for wasting your time."
Kurt hurriedly pressed the cancel key and the line went dead. Placing his cell down on the pillow beside him, the soprano closed his eyes and sighed. Moving to Dalton was supposed to make things better but all Kurt could think was that he'd have perhaps been better off at McKinley - not safer perhaps, but that might just have been the trade off to at least be happy.
"'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh, oh, oh,
As you shoot across the sky, oh, oh
Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go, oh, oh, oh
You're gonna leave 'em falling down, oh, oh, oh..."
A part of Kurt - a large part - just wanted to let the cell continue to ring and go to voicemail. But he'd opened a can of worms and he'd now have to deal with the consequences. Picking the cell back up again and cursing himself for even thinking that Puck would be the right person in any circumstance to ask for help, Kurt pressed 'answer'.
"You hung up on me."
Puck's tone was level and for all intents and purposes entirely benign, however Kurt could feel the undercurrent of reprimand and couldn't help the involuntary shiver of fear. Too many years had gone by with Kurt being subject to a kindly worded statement and then a dumpster dive for letting his guard down, for the brunette to shake it off in the short time since the half-back had dialled back on the daily torment.
'Could I get away with hanging up on him again?'
Though nobody could see him, Kurt shook his head emphatically and tried to form a response that wouldn't result in Puck coming up to Dalton just to kick his ass.
"Uh..."
"Very elephant Hummel..."
"Elephant?", asked Kurt, the strange segue pulling him back into the flow of the conversation and allowing the soprano to ignore his misgivings.
"Yeah, you know, slick?...", said Puck, his voice betraying the fact that the half-back obviously knew he'd slipped up somehow.
"Oh, eloquent...", said Kurt unable to keep from displaying the wide smile on his face; there was something endearing about Puck's attempt to use a word of more than two syllables despite his complete and abject failure.
"Yeah that - whatever. You still hung up on me; I should dumpster dive you for that..."
Kurt's throat closed up - he'd thought he'd gotten away from all of that. He'd left McKinley, he'd left his friends and he was supposed to have left his enemies and the various ignominies that they subjected him to.
But now, what was to stop Puck from coming up to Dalton to fulfil his promise?
"Oh for God's sake relax Hummel...", Puck's voice shook Kurt from his panicked wonderings and the brunette quickly realised he was in the middle of a fully-fledged panic attack, "... I'm not going to dumpster dive you."
Kurt squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he tried to control his breathing - it had been years since the soprano had suffered a panic attack; he'd thought he'd gotten over it. Obviously not.
"Hummel... Hummel... Kurt!"
"I'm here...", wheezed Kurt as he tried to get his breath back - the soprano sounded like he'd just run a marathon he was so out of breath.
"I'm sorry dude...", muttered Puck sounding genuinely upset at the effect his words had had on the smaller boy, "... I promise never to dumpster dive you ever again if it helps any."
Kurt cleared his throat before he replied,
"Thank you. It does help - more than you could possibly know."
Kurt reached over to his bedside table and took a sip from the glass of water the brunette tended to keep there overnight.
"So you wanna tell me why you called?...", said Puck his voice holding a definite teasing quality, "... or is this just a booty call?"
Kurt coughed and began to splutter; having decided to take a second sip of water at the exact moment Puck said the word 'booty'.
"Don't go dying on me Hummel...", warned Puck though Kurt could tell he was being teased again, "... you never know, I might just take you up on that booty call offer and rock your world..."
"Yeah right...", replied a hoarse sounding Kurt, though he secretly tried to imagine what it would be like if Puck did.
"So - call?"
"Uh yeah - well...", said Kurt, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself - what would he do if Puck said no?, "... I sorta need your help."
Puck chuckled down the line and waited for the soprano to spill - when Kurt didn't continue speaking the jock had to prompt him,
"And?"
"...", said Kurt rushing out his sentence almost before his lips and tongue could properly form the words.
"Why Hummel, you're more like Puckzilla than I first thought...", said Puck his grin audible on the other end of the line, "... but what's in it for me if I do this for you? After all, I'd have to bust into a boarding school in the middle of the night with contraband; that's a big risk..."
The question caught Kurt off guard; what could he offer Puck that the jock would possibly want? Fashion tips? Make-up hints? A critique on his atrocious hairstyle? Not having an answer for the jock, Kurt replied with probably the worst response he could have given,
"Uh... whatever you want?"
Kurt cursed himself the moment the words left his lips. Offering Puck anything he wanted was tantamount to the suicide the brunette had thought would be in the offing when he'd first called the jock.
"Whatever I want... hmmmm...", replied Puck seemingly mulling it over, "... how about one favour, to be cashed in at a future date, no questions asked - a 'Hummel-o-u'..."
Kurt didn't dare think what vile, disgusting thing that Puck would dream up when he decided to cash in his favour but the soprano wanted so badly to forget about everything that had happened that evening that he would give anything. Including this.
"Deal."
"Alright...", said Puck seemingly pleased with the deal they'd struck, "... name your poison, I know a 24-hour liquor store not far from my place."
Kurt hadn't thought of that. He'd decided he wanted to get drunk and try to forget about Blaine and his wandering hands and oh so soft lips, but the soprano hadn't considered what he wanted to drink. He suspected if he asked for Appletini that Puck would hang up on him and that would be disastrous at this stage.
"Tequila."
Puck's whistle clearly suggested that Kurt's answer had surprised him as he replied,
"OK - Cuervo it is... you want me to bring anything else? A movie? Chips?"
Starting to become more comfortable with the situation Kurt replied cheerily,
"Ooh, Cheetos... bring Cheetos... and a movie..."
"Alright fine, I'll see you in an hour..."
A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.
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