A/N: I'm still feeling peculiarly uncomfortable with the characters and I've got no idea why. It might have something to do with the fact that I've been writing for the same fandom for 3 years and it's damn hard to switch now. I'm sorry for any OOCness, I hope that by the time I've finished this story (which I'll try not to make too long) I've had gotten used to the characters and I'd be able to write my next Glee story better. Please, don't be to mean! Th broccoli scene was inspired by the episode with the 'tots' in season 2... I don't remember which number it was. ANYWAY! I'm being extra nice with you - it's a really fast update for my standards, so again - be gentle, ok? T_T
Btw, I read about Kurt having a lesbian aunt that's bound to appear in season 3, so I didn't make that up. xD
Town Of Hummelville
Chapter 3
Puck sincerely wanted to make this right – he needed to prove to Finn and himself that he could be loyal, trustworthy and tolerant even if every fiber in his body was screaming against it – and he really was trying to do well but Hummel was so not helping him with this.
It wasn't that the fairy was asking for too much – actually, the smaller boy seemed quite tentative about it all, at least on the outside. But the things he did! Oh, it felt like Puck was literally being drowned in gay sparkling dust, rainbows, unicorns and whatnot, all of that done with such goddamnfrustratingARGH casualness that the jock couldn't even blame Hummel for doing it on purpose.
For example, one thing that apparently made the countertenor feel better, were fashion magazines. Simple, no? But then Kurt had to go and name like half a dozen titles in a row, gingerly asking the jock to get them for him with the promise he'd lend them to Puck after he was done reading. Splendid. Surprisingly enough, buying the said items had turned out to be far more embarrassing for Noah than purchasing 'Playboy' – a fact that had forced the footballer to drive for 5 miles before reaching a remote enough news-stand to dare accomplish his mission.
Upon his arriving back at the Hummel-Hudson residence, Puck was met with what appeared to be the beginning of a looong phoning marathon. First, Hudson himself had called to check on his almost-step-brother, to tell him he was sorry for leaving and then complain about Rachel already taking over and going out of her way to boss everybody around ('That's because she's a GIIIRL, Finn!'). Five minutes after that call ended, the female FBI decided to see(well, hear) how Kurt was doing and there went a very thorough, very redundant discussion about who was wearing what (Puck wished he could shoot himself when Hummel expressed quite unhealthy fascination and interest in some what's-its-snobby-name brand of socks that Mercedes was apparently giving a try.), as well as what appeared to be the most popular topic all times – particulars about how exactly Rachel Berry was being insupportably unbearable. Finally, just as the jock was starting to think all this queer shit was over, the countertenor's lesbian aunt (did gay run in the family or something?) decided to phone and have a chat with her 'favourite nephew' and there it goes – the most homo-conversation Puck had ever heard, all sprinkled with what must've been about a hundred (actually, 118) words that the footballer had never heard before. Most of them fashion terms.
And yes, Noah had been forced to say 'hi' to every and each one of those friendly callers, including 'Auntie', which had somehow resulted in a disconcerting explanation that this was not Kurt's boyfriend but actually 'that school bully that you called a 'Jewish euglena thing' when you came over for Thanksgivings and I arrived home with a blueberry slushy on my Alexander McQueen dress shirt.'. Oh, right. Puck did recall that one – he had made sure to splash cup after plastic cup of the sticky goo on Hummel's tops almost every break till the smaller male had run out of spare ones to put on. It was quite hilarious because even with the flashy drink soaking his clothes, the Princess had refused to put his head down and had kept walking around with his nose stuck high in the air, like the president of the Queer Galaxy… that he probably was. The jock couldn't help it but smirk smugly at the memory. He had been quite pleased with himself that day and afterwards he had even made plans to resort to the strategy again but it had turned out to be way too expensive of an escapade to carry out on a daily basis. After all, slushies didn't come for free even if the look on the victims' faces was always priceless.
Puck's smile faded as he lifted his eyes to the ill boy's face. Pale flesh, tinted with an unhealthy flush, the mix of green and blue in the usually quite lively orbs now unwontedly moist and dulled as Hummel tried to stay focused on what appeared to be Mercedes' second call for the night. It seemed that the effects of the pills were wearing off and the fever was gradually returning full-power, making the boy look even worse than a couple of hours ago… Well, damn. Puck fought down the feeling of uneasiness that tingled in his chest at the sight and frowned a little as he realized that all the remnants of his previously jolly mood had gone to the dogs, replaced by something that vaguely resembled… what? Guilt?
He grunted at the ridiculousness of the idea, glancing at Hummel again. The smugness didn't come back but the other feelings seemed to heighten just a little bit more, making him shift restlessly in his place. Why didn't the slushy story seem nearly as amusing as before all of a sudden…?
"Sure, I'm glad you're having fun…" Kurt commented meekly, the edges of his lips turning in a smile that held just a tad bit of rueful weariness and Puck couldn't help it but deem that it was kindda cruel of the Afro-American diva's side to relate about the good time she was having when her best friend couldn't be there. If she couldn't lie about it, claiming that Hummel wasn't missing anything much, the least she could do was… well, not mention the trip. Even Puck wouldn't have been this accurate in his narratives in a situation like this and he didn't pride himself to be too moral.
Plus, the Princess' voice was adopting a raspy quality that was far worse than the one from a couple of hours ago and if Mercedes wasn't planning to do anything about it, then Noah definitely was.
"Gimme that." The Jew snorted, snatching the mobile phone from the smaller boy's weak hold with ease. The faint 'Hey!' stayed unnoticed as Hummel made an attempt to regain his ownership over the object only to have his wrist grabbed in a firm grip.
"Hello?" Puck asked, pressing the mobile to his ear as he recoiled from the feebly struggling countertenor, keeping the latter at an arm length. "Hey, black girl, I'm afraid your friend just passed out from gay-despair thanks to your unbelievable rant and I'm pretty sure I don't have much time to doodle on his face, so I'm gonna have to hang up right now."
"Puck!" came an indignant (and somewhat croaky)shout, but the jock was already turning the phone off, shoving it in his jeans pocket where it was a safe distance away from the smaller boy's hands. "What did you do that for?"
Noah let out an exasperated sigh before holding up his index finger in front of his face and raising both brows for emphasize:
"One: because your throat is sore and you keep straining yourself to speak, which is quite dumb for a singer who's supposed to know what is good for his voice and what isn't. Two:" Not waiting for the smaller male to recover from his blast of shock, the Jew held his next finger up, letting up a nuance of smugness graze his lips. "you seriously need a rest, dude-"
"Don't call me that!"
"-Just looking at your stressed-out expression makes my eyes hurt. Sometimes even more than your outrageous taste for clothes."
"My fashion taste is completel-"
"Three: Your friends should know better than to keep you away from getting better by filling your time with rattles about nothing. Seriously, that's not exactly the most considerate thing to do and this is me talking... And four:" he made a grimace, lips twisting to the side with unhidden distaste before adding. "Listening to all this crap was just plain annoying."
Pulling back from the taller student, Kurt tucked his legs underneath himself and after leaning back against the couch, folded his arms with a huff.
"In case you haven't noticed, this is my house, so I think the least I get here is the right to do what I feel like doing." The countertenor pointed out crabbily only to receive a small amused chuckle in response, his head snapping back from where he had been staring at the wall to now gaze at the man beside him with sincere puzzlement.
"Well, here's some news for you Princess - no, you don't get to do whatever you want."
"What did you just say?" came the choked inquiry and Puck grinned.
"I said you don't get to follow every dumb idea pops into your head, not if the things you do contribute to your illness. Which, by the way, is solely the case ever since I arrive from my magazine quest." He paused, tasting the words against his tongue and palate for a moment before interjecting almost matter-of-factly. "So no more phoning for tonight."
The statement made Hummel flinch almost as if he had been hit. Then his posture changed, shoulders stiffening considerably and all of a sudden he resembled a person who had just had someone drop a potted plant on his head – his eyes had gone wide, lips thinned in a purse and body rigid as a statue. The this-is-not-happening look was etched quite vividly into his features as he fought back the muddled mess of responses that were threatening to spill before he had had the chance to sort them out into something that had at least a remote connection to the dialog.
"Are you aware that you're neither my parent, nor of any relation to me other than a co-Glee clubber?" Kurt enunciated slowly, the impatience rather emphatically reverberating into the stance of his shoulders.
"You look like someone's just ruined your plans, hm, Hummel?" the jock pointed out, arching a teasing brow that only made the other boy's face lose a couple of more shades of colour.
"You're one stunningly observant Jew, Puck, bravo. Now give me my phone back!"
"Nope. You get some sleep and then we can sort this out." The jock pretty much stated, rubbing his palms along the legs of his trousers absently as he prepared to stand up. A peculiar, slightly hoarse sound escaped Kurt's lips at the other one's audacity and his voice all but went shrill with anger as he blurted his reply:
"Not a chance I'm willingly submitting into unconsciousness with a reliable persona such as yourself in the house!"
Puck merely rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet and stretched, graciously oblivious to the gimlet eyes burning into his head.
"Stop being so stubborn, will ya? I'm trying to be responsible here and trust me, it isn't the easiest thing to do.."
"Do you know where I want to stuff your 'responsibility?'" came the uneven snap and Puck barely desisted from bursting into a laugh at the anecdotic way in which Kurt's sore throat made the threat sound. Hummel's voice was more girly than ever now and with the grave exception of, well, Santana, the jock had always found females' attempts for intimidation beyond ridiculous.
"You really need some rest, Princess. Trust me on this one." Noah purred, winking at the smaller male before he could even realize what he was doing. An incredulous, slightly offended look crossed Hummel's features but he recovered quickly, his folded arms tightening further around his thin frame as he glowered at the now standing man.
"Give me my mobile phone back or else I'm going on a Sleepless strike." Kurt said a little bit more softly then before, despite the frustration smoldering in his eyes. The Jew opted to remain unaffected by the menace and instead stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his faded jeans, smiling sweetly.
"Well, that's too bad, because you're not getting your phone back, Hummel." Shrugging almost nonchalantly, Puck spun on his heel as he started making his way towards the staircase. "I'm going upstairs to see if there's anything to eat. And because I'm such a great guy, I'm going to fix something for you as well." Not that he'd be able to if there wasn't something already prepared, but if he said that he wouldn't sound nearly as awesome. And that was a lot worse than a teensy-weensy lie.
Hummel was an obstinate little thing. Pay close attention to the words 'obstinate' and 'little' and it was quite easy to see why the kid got picked on so often. Knowing that, it wasn't such a surprise to see that Kurt wasn't planning to listen and rest. Even from the kitchen Puck could hear the smaller boy switching through the TV channels downstairs, the volume turned up way over what is considered normal, probably in some childish attempt for the jock to get the message. Noah rolled his eyes with exasperation, running one hand through his mohawk while the other one engaged itself in opening the fridge's door.
And finding nothing but organic plants and fruit, arranged in neat boxes and envelopes in the most silly manner possible. It was food, for God's sake, it didn't need to be preserved in a fashionable composition! Jesus! Hummel's print-marks we all over the place!
Plus, what was this little tree-chunk? Since when were trees human food?
Grabbing the plant, Puck stormed back into the basement, finding the countertenor sprawled across the couch with a vex frown on his face, upper body propped on one elbow and thumb viciously abusing the buttons of the remote control.
"Hey, Hummel? May I ask you something?" Noah called, a crumble of hesitation making his feet falter a bit as he approached the sofa, waiting for the other student to look at him. "I was looking for something to eat and I found this tree in the fridge and I was wondering what it was doing there-" his rant was cut off by what appeared to be a short, humorless laughter as the countertenor's lips twisted sullenly.
"Well, since, apparently, you're going to treat me like a piece of the surrounding furniture, I don't see why my answers would matter to you." Kurt glanced at the jock momentary before adding. "But just for the record: that's not a tree. It's broccoli. Seriously, people, don't you eat any vegetables? I think I've already had this conversation with half the Gleeks."
"I go by with pizza and beer."
"Typical." Kurt stated dryly, pausing on MTV for a moment, only to let out a low groan and proceed to seek for something better to watch. "At this rate, you'll be a rotting corpse by the time you're thirty."
"At least I'd be a badass rotting corpse." Puck smirked, brandishing the broccoli chunk around for a moment. "And is there anything else that's edible in your house by chance?"
"I think there's some soup in the saucepan on the stove. You can warm that up." Kurt's sharp eyes quickly found Noah's, cutting the latter off just as he was opening his mouth to speak up. "And no ordering anything."
The only reason why Puck closed his mouth shut and obediently headed upstairs was not, as Kurt so foolishly assumed, because the jock had just been defeated by the power of organic, homemade meals but because there was already a plan forming in his head. As he switched the hot-plate on, stirring the vegetable soup with one hand, Puck quickly went though all his pockets with his free one, murmuring soundless 'Where is it's to himself before his fingers found what he had been looking for. Jackpot! Pulling out the small plastic bottle of pills, Noah adjusted it so he could scan the label, the details of what he was about to do already clearing out in his head. Sleeping pills. His mother had been having problems with sleeping for years now, mostly due to her tendency to change workplaces (and thus working hours) all the time, so these were like a must for her calm slumber. Puck knew she was running out of them so when he had gone to buy Kurt his medicine, he had decided to pick the soporific as well. That was just how considerate of a son he was.
And how considerate of a babysitter he was going to prove to be.
Pouring the already rather hot soup in two bowls, he popped a couple of pills into his palm, contemplating them for a moment. This would be a dose enough to have the boy drifting into sleep fast enough and any suspicion that could arise, Puck would blame on the fever. He won't even know what hit him, he decided with a small smirk as he let the pills plop into the thick soup and picked the tray up, heading for the basement. It wasn't the most honorable thing to do - especially since he had promised himself to do this whole thing right for once – but Kurt needed his rest and well… Noah really wanted to watch some kick-ass action movie on the flat screen so why the hell not? Why the hell not give them both the rest they needed so badly, especially since it was going to help Hummel recover. And especially since the countertenor was insisting so damn much on being a bitch. Besides, he thought as he pushed down the guilt-induced lump that was forming in his throat – what could go wrong?
As he finally reached the bottom of the staircase, Puck all but choked at the sight of the prude countertenor rummaging through his backpack. Noah's backpack. The jock had no idea when Hummel had gotten his hands on it – since even Puckerman himself didn't remember where he had cast it at his arrival here – but he definitely didn't like anyone touching his stuff.
"What do you think you're doing?" He asked rigidly, watching as Kurt pulled out a frayed notebook and opened it imperturbably.
"Well, you know how we have chemistry together?" Hummel stated calmly as he placed the backpack next to the foot of the couch and opened the notebook, scanning it's scanty content. "I heard the teacher threaten to flunk you the other day and well, you can't afford that. Not if you want to stay on the football team…"
"What are you getting at?" Puck asked as he approached the sofa, putting the tray on the small table before it. Kurt looked up from the couple of debauched doodles occupying the major part of the jock's notebook page and his features softened.
"I can help you out with that. In return you're going to give me my mobile back. And before you say anything," he added hurriedly, seeing the hostile frown already forming on Noah's face. "I'm done with the phone calls. You were right, and you meant good. Sorry for bitching at you… You didn't deserve it."
"Oh." Puck mumbled, surprised by the sudden change of the attitude as he plopped down in the boy's feet, his features relaxing into a tentatively delighted expression. "That's… well… good, I guess."
Kurt's lips twisted into a soft smile and he shrugged before looking back the notebook's content.
"So what do you say, Puck?"
"About what?"
"Chemistry. We are stuck together for the weekend obviously so if you're willing to be cooperative, I'll see how much of this… quite obvious vagueness in your head I can clear up for you." Hummel looked up again, pulling his knees to his chest under the blanket and wrapping his arm around them. "I'm not nearly as toxic as you think and if we both try, I think we can make a good use out of our time together. So. What do you think?"
Puck's lips stretched into a grin before he could help himself and he shrugged.
"I say we give it a try." He nodded readily and the other boy let out a breath that he had obviously been holding, the small smile adorning his face widening just a little bit more.
"Great!" he said, his voice cracking a bit as he raised it more than his sore throat allowed him. "We can eat then and we'll get started afterwards."
With that Kurt put the notebook away and reached for his bowl of soup, pulling it in his lap as he shifted to get into a more upright position. As he heard the sound of the metal spoon colliding with the ceramic bottom, Puck couldn't help it but stiffen, the feeling of guilt washing over him like a wave of something rancid. Suddenly, feeding the unsuspecting Hummel to sleeping medicine seemed tenfold worse and he found himself rankling his brain for something to say or do to stop the boy from eating this.
"Um, Princess…" he started, hating his voice for sounding so fake and weird. "You know, the soup's really hot maybe you should wait till it cools down…cuz it's bad… for… you know, your throat."
There was a small pause during which Kurt just stared at the bowl in his lap and Puck couldn't really see what was going on, because the little knee-mountain was preventing him from that, but then a low sigh was heard. Noah felt his whole body tense, the feeling of apprehension clutching on his insides painfully, making the time draw a hundred times slower than usually.
"Seriously, Puck?" the jock could hear the sarcasm dripping from those words and even if his intuition was screaming at his that this was bad, his brain couldn't comprehend it. He couldn't understand what had happened, because even if he had had the suspicion that the taste of the soup could change, he was pretty sure Hummel hadn't eaten any so far. Then the countertenor moved his legs away, slowly lowering his feet to the floor and Noah could see exactly what the problem was.
On the bottom of Kurt's spoon, a small white pill was swimming between the pieces of vegetables, leaving very little doubt about where it had come from.
Puck swallowed with difficulty, the only rational thought in his mind consisted of two words: Oh. Fuck.
"Wow…" the countertenor mumbled, his lips twisting into a bitter smile as he started at the pill, brows raised in cold amusement. "Just… wow. Should I be impressed or repulsed, Puckerman?"
Noah felt his heart sink as he saw the boy drop the spoon back into the bowl, fingers opening wide in disgust. The clatter was almost physically hurtful as it carried a very reasonable, very easy question with it: was Hummel's disgust directed to the drugged meal or to its maker? The answer was cruel in its obviousness and for some reason it made the jock's heart skip a beat, his fingers unconsciously digging into his jeans as he tried to ease the tension that was accumulating behind his furrowed brows. Stupid, stupid, stupid… Kurt turned to look at the other Gleek, lips pursing together painfully as he waited for an explanation that Puck found himself unable to voice.
"It was… They were just sleep pills, to help you relax-" he tried, suddenly founding himself drowning in his own inability to say something… justifiable for what he had done.
"To help you get rid of my presence, you mean?" Kurt supplied, lips quivering a little at the edges as he lifted his shoulders a little. "Nice one, Puck."
"Look, Hummel, I didn't really-"
"Stop. Just… Shut up." Kurt cut him off, his voice sounding ridiculously thin as he shook his head, teeth digging into his lower lip in what appeared to be a sad attempt to keep his emotions at bay. The tone caught Puck off guard but instead of doing what he usually would to put the smaller Gleek into his place, he remained quiet, silenced by the look of hurt and disappointment that flooded the boy's eyes. "I told you that you don't have to stay. I did mean it, you know…" Now Noah was pretty sure the reason why the soft words sounded so quivering, so weak had nothing to do with the sickness and it made the weight in his chest grow heavier, more suffocating. "Now I'm asking you. Nicely. Please, leave. I'll tell Finn you'd been here the whole time."
"Hummel-" he tried but Kurt just pulled the blanket around his shoulder, eyes firmly cast on the table before him.
"Just go, Puck." He mumbled softly. And much to his own surprise, Noah did just that.