A/N: I'll try not to make this fic too long as I know long fics tend to get exhausting. This chapter isn't particularly long, but I think it's quite a turning point in the story, so I think it's excusable. :) I hope you enjoy this! Lemme know if you do, as I've begun to worry that maybe I'm not doing so well in this section due to the lessening number of reviews for each chapter. :/ Anyway! Thanks all you who keep reading! Cheers!

Town Of Hummelville

Chapter 4

By the time Puck stopped cursing himself, the sun was already beginning to settle down and he still hadn't moved from the Hummel-Hudeson residence's porch. Kurt hadn't come up to lock the door – assuming that he would've most likely ended up tumbling down the staircase if he even tried – which was both good and unnerving because now Noah had absolutely no idea what to do. He had the choice laid out pretty clearly in front of him and it was driving him mad – he could either venture going back inside and try fixing things or he could just walk away and leave it all behind. He groaned pathetically under his breath, reaching to run his hand through his Mohawk as he kept pacing back and forth the front of the house like a caged animal. This was suppose to be an easy choice. One that he could make without the blink of an eye and not regret later on… so why was he taking forever to sort things out? There it was – his truck, parked neatly just a few meters away, tempting him to just fuck everything else and hit the road. Maybe find a nice little pool that needed cleaning. Maybe a couple of free drinks for the effort, or a messy phone number, scribbled on the back of his hand for future reference. Yes, that was exactly what he should do. So why aren't you leaving! Why. Are. You. Still HERE! God, he totally needed a slap in the face for all this. Deliberating was so not his forte, hence the mere fact that he was trying left him with numerous doubts about his own health. If any of his teammates found out that he had spent this long hesitating whether to leave the homo to manage on his own or not, they'd shave his brows and his precious Mohawk without a second thought. And the worst part? He'd probably do the same if he were in their shoes.

Ah, shit! Grabbing the sides of his head again angrily, Puck barely resisted the urge to start banging his forehead against the hard oak door. This was ridiculous. Ridiculous. But it was him who had screwed up, yet again, and unlike all the other times, he wasn't nearly as willing to run away now. He wanted to do something about this. God help him if he knew why, yet... he couldn't. Fuckin'. Help it.

Puck rolled his eyes, exhaling softly through his nose in an attempt to clear his head as he carefully placed his hand on the door handle without pushing down on it just yet. Last chance! Last effing chance to chicken out! Take it or leave it.

Noah closed his eyes for a moment as he finally made up his mind, his fingers around the door handle tightening ever so slightly as he tried to shake off all the uneasiness that was simmering in his gut. Damn… He so knew he'd have to scrub the gay off his skin with a pallet after this.

Wasn't life just one royally screwed up thing?

Puck entered the house as quietly as possible, stepping gingerly on the parquet, trying not to alarm Hummel just yet. Unsure of how to proceed with the offended little fairy, he decided to play safe for starters and see how things went. He sneaked to the basement's door swiftly and gently pushed it open. At least these things don't creak as bad as they do at home… The TV was still turned on but the volume was down, the mere hum coming from it the only sound that crept around the room as Puck cautiously descended the staircase, the lack of movement causing his brows to furrow with dull apprehension. Mulling over the idea that the countertenor might have fallen asleep, the jock silently approached the sofa and peered over it.

"Hummel?"

As the smaller boy turned to look at the intruder with almost painful incredulity, Noah felt his chest tighten. The fairy's eyes were undoubtedly red and puff, like he had been crying, his cheeks flustered unhealthily, while the rest of his face seemed sickeningly white. It wasn't rocket science and with his past experiences with his sister getting sick, Puck immediately figured out what the situation was. Damn… In general, all ill people had the disturbing propensity to get overemotional about petty things, lapsing into small fits of weeping, self-pitying and occasionally frustration. That would, as Puckerman knew for a fact, make them feel worse, bring up some headache and fatigue issues to the table of malady-provided problems and just plain result in prolonging the recuperation. Shoving away the repetitive stabs of guilt that were threatening to tear his insides apart, Noah opened his mouth to explain himself but was cut off by a brief dry and completely devoid of any traces of a amusement laughter that elicited from the other teen's chapped lips.

"What are you doing here…? Have you come to 'teach me a lesson' for kicking you out?" Kurt whispered and Puck couldn't miss the hue of fear that resided behind the façade of impartial aloofness. "I thought that suited both our wishes."

It took the jock a few seconds to realize he wasn't actually answering the question but just staring with empty eyes, a single thought whipping through his head again and again: Do I strike people as someone this low? He swallowed with startling difficulty the swell in his throat as he realized that the response was as clear as day – all he had to do was look back at what he had tried to achieve just a couple of hours ago. Drug a sick person out of what he now realized was sheer laziness. Sloth. Irresponsibility. No wonder he was irrevocably losing his best friend for good – because, really, how could such person be trusted? What kind of a friend was someone who would offer help and then do whatever it takes to get out of it the moment you turned away?

And Hummel…

Fuck it! Hummel, the one and only queer kid, hated, mocked, taunted and insulted publicly day after day, had willingly offered Puck help. Just like that. And that alone was more than anything anyone had done for Noah in a long, long while… When had been the last time that someone had suggested to aid the jock in something without wanting any goods or favors in return? It pained and agitated Puck beyond belief that he couldn't. fucking. remember! And it pained and agitated him even more because he knew that he probably deserved it. Sure, he was a badass, the ever-present image in every cougar and teenage girl's wet dream, the top of the effing food chain. But where had that led him? He had no real friends, no girlfriend that gave a damn about him, not a single person to have his back in a moment of need. And for some idiotic reason despite having had understood all that on a certain level long ago, he was still unwilling to try and make a difference because he was afraid… Afraid of what? Being reduced to another humiliated and teased high school loser? Like he didn't know, or feel, or taste with every fiber of his body that he had long ago become much less than that. Like he didn't know that he deserve the trade-mark slushie facials a lot more than the ever-ridiculed Glee club with its united little group of weak, but at least proud members... And dammit, Hummel, why do you have to be so friggin' kind? Why did he have to be so prim and well, good, this kid, and to Puck of all people… Why couldn't he stick to being hateful and malicious to his №1 tormentor like anyone else would, instead of… this. Instead suddenly proffering to give a hand, asking for the mere effort, the attempt to be treated… as something more than a wrapped up bundle of trash, ready to be tossed into the dumpster day after day.

"I just don't understand what you want from me, Puck." Uttered a small voice and Noah was torn away from his ruminations. He blinked, turning to gaze directly in the pair of large, weary blue pools… and at that moment, his whole world came crashing down.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." He choked out breathily, much to his own shock. The boy's eyes immediately widened, mouth opening in amazement and bewilderment at both the statement and the address but he wasn't given the chance to speak as Puck had already set off, blabbering quickly as if afraid that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to do this ever again.

"I'm sorry for all the things I did to you and all the hurtful names I called you… You never did anything to me and you didn't deserve to be treated like this." He swallowed, the weight of the words seemingly increasing against his tongue, pushing down, strangling him and damn he never knew it'd be so friggin difficult! "I accepted to take care of you because I wanted to prove to Finn that I could be trusted, I thought that I could… endure this… you… for a few hours and then it would all go back to the way it was." Puck's breath hitched at the hurt that flashed vividly in the boy's orbs but against his better judgment, he decided to go on while he could still muster the courage to, while he still held some hope that he'd be heard "But then you offered to help me out with my school problems and it all came tumbling down, because I realized that you're not a tool to use and this is not the way to win your friend back… Shit, what I did today was the icing of the cake and I know that. I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness but starting now… I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn it."

At the end of his diatribe, Puck suddenly felt small. Smaller than ever actually, and weaker, and more vulnerable, but he didn't avert his eyes as much as he wanted to, choosing instead to contemplate the reactions of the ill teen before him.

"I'm gonna be sick." Came a low murmur and for a moment, the jock felt his heart skip a beat, face adopting a pasty colour as he realized that he should've known. He should've fucking known that he'd earn nothing but Kurt's disgust with that idiotic tirade he just-

"Oh, sweet Dolche!" the countertenor sprang to his feet, hand clasping his mouth and stumbled as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him towards the bathroom, kicking its door shut behind him once he found himself inside. Before he could realize what he was doing, Puck had rushed after him, pushing the same door open only to be met with the sight of the small singer on his knees, bent over the toilet and retching the content of his stomach.

"Kurt…"

"D-don't come any closer…" the boy managed before another fit clutched his stomach, quaking his slim frame violently. "I don't want you-… to see…"

Puck's features softened at the silly demand and he shook his head, crossing the few feet of distanced between himself and the boy before kneeling beside him. One tanned hand quickly came to wrap around Kurt's sweat-dewed forehead, supporting it gently against the nauseous vertigo that irrevocably came with the disgorging, while the other one rubbed soothing circles on the countertenor's back, both techniques, again, learned from previous experiences with his little sister.

"Easy now, Fancy... easy."

"You don't have to…" the smaller student mumbled when his stomach was finally emptied, the occasional painful spasms and the exhaustion still keeping him bent over the toilet. Beside him, Puck chose to remain silent, waiting for a few more minutes till he was absolutely sure the countertenor was done.

"C'mon." Wrapping one strong arm around Kurt's waist, Puck helped the boy up and guided him towards the sink, pressing the flush button in the process. Once provided with access to a water source, the smaller teen took his time washing his face and rinsinh his mouth thoroughly several times until the taste of gall was mostly gone. Noah stood beside him throughout the whole process, one of his hands still massaging Hummel's back comfortingly as he waited for the diva to finish.

"Some nasty flu you've got yourself there, huh, Lance Bass." Puck taunted gently, mostly to fill the silence. The statement was easily ignored though as Kurt twisted the faucet handles to stop the running water and made a move to head to his room again, only to realize two steps later that he couldn't trust his shaking knees at all.

"Goddamnit, Princess…" Kurt's brows twisted into a frown at the exclamation but before he could inquire the reasons behind it, he was scooped up, the familiar pair of arms that had given him a lift to the dumpster all too many times before, now enveloping his frame securely, almost caringly.

"Puck…" came the weak sigh but no actual protest was voiced or shown as he felt himself being carried towards his bed bridal style. I must be hallucinating...

"Don't worry, I've got you." the jock mumbled softly as he reached his destination, easily balancing the skinny form in his arms with one hand as he pulled the covers aside with the other to gingerly lay the boy down. "You're really warm to the touch, Princess, have you been taking your medicine?"

"I don't know…" Kurt admitted tiredly, hands coming up to grip at the blanket as he curled to himself and closed his eyes. He could sense the movement of the taller form above him for a couple of more seconds, then it was gone... Only to return a moment later with something in his hands.

"C'mon, Kurt, you're getting worse. You've got to take your pills."

Kurt groaned in protest as he felt that familiar hand slip behind his neck, pulling him up in a half sitting position. He cracked open his foggy blue eyes again, gaze focusing unsteadily on the couple of pills that were now being laid in his slack palm. Realizing that he was not going to be let alone until he complied, the countertenor sluggishly put the medicine in his mouth, accepting the glass of water offered afterwards readily. Once he had swallowed everything, he was lowered gently back down on the mattress.

"Will you doodle on my face when I doze off?" the boy mumbled weakly, mild apprehension replenishing his words as he looked up at the jock who was currently hovering over him, placing a laundry basin next to the bed in case the smaller male felt sick again and was unable to get to the bathroom in time. Puck paused in his ministrations at the statement to eye the sick gleek, his expression clearly asking if the other singer was being serious. Kurt's misty gaze shifted, landing on some spot far behind the taller teen's head.

"I just don't think I can handle to be toyed with right now, Puck…" he uttered, his voice breaking a little at the end as his finger around the edge of the blanket tightened further. "I don't think I can…"

"No need to, Princess." Noah asserted him, his jaw setting into a decisive, confident lock for a moment. "You don't worry your little head with anything now. I'm gonna take care of it. I'm gonna take care of you."

Letting a small smile of relief twist the edges of his mouth as his exhausted brain opted to register only the first part of the answer, Kurt curled further into himself under the covers, eyes falling shut as he drifted into sleep without further questioning.

A/N: Review?