So here's chapter two.
You know, the upside of doing this fic is, I get to watch Practical Magic over and over. Surprisingly, it doesn't get old.
I hope some of them don't seem too out of character. If you think so, let me know. I have never done this before, so I could use all the help I can get. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them.
Practical Magic
-by HappyValentina
Chapter two: Just a little push
"Good morning."
"Hello boys!"
"Hi there!"
Kurt came out of the post office and joined Brittany and Santana, who were greeting and flirting with everyone that passed by. They did that all the time; they knew the effect they had in people, and they enjoyed watching people get flustered. It was easy to tell the locals from the visitors; only someone from out of town would ogle the two women, oblivious to their reputation.
Kurt used to think it was funny and interesting how everyone seemed bothered by the fact that Santana and Brittany didn't look a day over 25, even when they were much, much, much older than that. But now, it probably annoyed him just as much; not because he thought it was freaky, but because they acted like teenagers too.
"Ah, Dave! Looking good," Santana said. Dave Karofsky, as usual, looked a lot more threatening that he probably felt; as soon as he caught sight of them, he gave the three Owens a wide berth. He even completely ignored Kurt.
"God, what was I thinking?" Santana gagged in a low voice.
"Oh, Santana, let it go," Brittany said, rolling her eyes.
Kurt handed the stack of mail to aunt Santana, and they started on their way back home as Santana shuffled through the mail.
"Oh wow, Quinn's in Orlando! She's in Orlando!" she exclaimed, reading a postcard. "I guess that Asian dancer is history."
"Mike was history a while back, actually. He moved back here, in fact. He's working at the arts center. Meanwhile, Quinn moved on to the gardener, and then the professional ball player..." Brittany listed.
"According to this, they're all in the past, and who knows what gaudy male specimen she'll be playing with now," Santana shrugged, and showed the postcard to Kurt. Kurt took it and read it quickly, shaking his head.
"This is insane. She keeps going through all these guys," he grumbled.
"Hopefully someday she'll find a guy who'll go through her," Santana joked, waving at another passerby. "Helloooo!"
"Hello, darling, How are you?" Brittany said to the same woman, who stopped and turned and covered her child's face.
"Don't look, honey," the woman whispered nervously.
"Oh Britt, give it up," Santana said, rolling her eyes. Brittany laughed to herself.
"Never."
Kurt was barely looking where he was going, or paying attention to what his two crazy aunts were doing; he was busy rereading the postcard for the sixth time.
"God I miss her," he sighed suddenly. It had been nearly a year since Quinn had left, and every day it just got more and more difficult being on his own with only the aunts to keep him sane -or rather drive him even more insane-.
"Oh sweetie," Brittany stroked his hair comfortingly.
As they stepped off the sidewalk, a flurry of leaves came down on them from one of the trees. Santana looked up in surprise, considering there was no breeze. Brittany looked also. Kurt didn't notice at all.
They walked in front of a carriage being pulled by a horse, and the horse started backing up in fear, whinnying. Santana glared at it and the carriage driver.
"Oh Samson, knock it off. Don't be such a whiny little..."
"Hey, you knock it off," Brittany whispered. Kurt watched bitterly.
"I just want a normal life," he said. He always said that. He'd been saying it for years now. And Brittany and Santana always exchanged the same look and said the same thing.
"Come on, Kurt, when are you gonna get it inside your head, that being normal is not necessarily a good thing. It's rather a lack of courage, actually. It's boring and lame. You've got so much potential," aunt Santana squeezed his arm. "You're so much more talented that most women in our family have ever been. And that's coming from me. You're above all these people, we all are."
"Those two, for example," Brittany said, pointing to a couple walking toward them. "He sleeps with their nanny, and she puts all kinds of booze on her coffee every morning."
The couple noticed Brittany staring and pointing, and they started walking faster, avoiding their eyes.
"How do you know these things?" Kurt asked.
"He told me. I can be very persuasive," Brittany said nonchalantly.
"And we have plenty of dirt on the teachers at your old school," Santana added. "Especially the headmaster and that Spanish teacher."
"And that guy who gives the news," Brittany said.
"And I know a few closeted gays," Santana said.
"Says the one who used to be a closet lesbian," Kurt said in a low voice. Santana glared at him.
"I don't like closets much, they make me clusterphobic," Brittany said nonchalantly.
"It's 'claustrophobic', sweetie," Santana corrected, lovingly pushing a strand of Brittany's blonde hair behind her ear.
As the couple they had been gossiping about hurried away, Kurt caught sight of a young blonde man behind them, pushing a trolley with crates full of apples.
Sam Evans.
Kurt always saw him about town, and he couldn't help but stare a little. He was handsome, had bright green eyes, and a charming smile.
Suddenly, Kurt realized this was the first time that the smile was directed at him.
Or maybe it was the first time he noticed it.
Sam was looking at him as he walked past, and Kurt forced himself to return the smile, and hoping he wasn't blushing too visibly.
Aunt Santana seemed to notice too. The two young men locked eyes, as if they couldn't look away from each other, even as they crossed and continued walking, only slowing down. They would crash into something if they didn't watch where they were going.
Kurt almost knocked a stranger over, and finally snapped out of it.
"Oh, oops! Sorry," he said, flushing furiously. Sam seemed to laugh quietly and kept walking, looking ahead, but glancing over his shoulder a couple of times.
Santana smiled knowingly.
"How much longer?" Brittany asked impatiently.
"I don't know," Santana replied.
"What time is it?"
"I don't know."
"I don't think you did it properly."
"I... yes, I did!"
"I don't know..."
The two women were sitting on the porch, playing cards and drinking iced coffee, and pretended not to watch Kurt carefully. Kurt, unbeknownst to what they were scheming, was busy picking herbs from the garden. He liked to make natural, 100% organic skin and hair care products, and was very good at it, and right now he was running out of peppermint conditioner.
"Any minute now," Santana muttered, barely paying attention to the game, and instead observing Kurt intently. Suddenly the clock struck three, and the two women perked up, looking at each other expectantly.
Kurt dropped the basket with all the herbs and looked up suddenly, as if he had heard something from a distance that had gotten his attention. He turned and looked around, and stood up quickly.
The aunts watched him as he suddenly ran out of the garden without a word.
"Where are you going, sweetie?" Santana asked, grinning mischievously.
Brittany nodded. "Awesome."
Sam Evans was going about his afternoon routine in town. At exactly three o'clock, he parked his delivery truck near the farmer's market and started unloading crates of apples. As he was putting them on a cart, he got a strange sensation, and stopped what he was doing.
Following a weird gut feeling, he stepped out onto the street, looking up north. Suddenly he was met with a very strange sight, and laughed: Kurt Owens was running in his direction, with a pack of dogs running up behind him, barking and howling the whole way.
Most of the people around were kind of staring too, like they usually did when it came to Kurt, or one of his weird aunts. Though when Sam realized Kurt was not only running in his direction, but actually running toward him, he felt the urge to run toward him too.
They were smiling at each other knowingly. They met halfway, and there was no hesitation as Kurt wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss, nor when Sam kissed him back, arms circling his waist.
All of this in plain view of everyone. But most people suddenly didn't seem to care. And Kurt and Sam were of those who didn't care at all.
It felt like they'd been waiting forever for it to happen.
Dear Quinn:
Today is our third anniversary.
And all I have to show for it are a beautiful girl and boy, and a husband I just can't stop kissing.
I don't even mind the shaggy hair.
I wish you could meet my children. We picked a surrogate that, if you can believe it, reminds me a lot like you. Although she doesn't have your flare. Elizabeth looks just like you. Kyle is the spitting image of his papa.
I wish you could see us.
No more stones being thrown, no taunts cried out. Although there is still the occasional gay slur, but those are rare.
Everything is just so blissfully... normal.
Life is perfect.
Dear Kurt:
I'm lying in the sun.
I'm lying by the pool.
I've got a million friends.
You might say that life is perfect.
But I don't care about any of it.
In fact, I only have two words to say to you:
Noah Puckerman.
Quinn was miles away, in sunny California once again, in a house party, dancing by a pool. Around her, several men missing several pieces of clothing were dancing around her, in an attempt to get her attention. They only touched her if she so wished. They were enthralled.
Across the pool, however, someone seemed to not be receiving the full effect of her charms.
Quinn occasionally glanced toward him, watching him secretly.
The man with the mohawk haircut and the dark aviator sunglasses smoked on obliviously, oozing with appeal.
Quinn was determined.
Later that same day, she walked around the house. The party was still going on outside, but she came away looking for some peace and quiet, so that she could focus.
Stopping in the living room, she suddenly felt it. A nearness. It was working. Much faster than she had anticipated.
There was a presence behind her, and suddenly a hand at her cheek. Quinn closed her eyes and smiled in satisfaction. She didn't need to turn around to know that it was Noah Puckerman, who had finally succumbed to her charms and was ready to give her what she wanted all this time.
He caressed the side of her face and her neck, and Quinn shivered. There was something soft and smooth grazing her temple then, and she realized he was blindfolding her slowly with a silk tie. She had never felt more thrilled.
There was soft cool breath in her ear, as she caressed the hands caressing her.
Puck... Puck... Puckerman... Puckerman... Puckerman...
Crick.
Kurt woke up suddenly. It was the middle of the night. Beside him, Sam was fast asleep. Nestled between them, unbeknownst to him of when he had snuck into the bed, little Kyle slept on peacefully as well, a hand on his papa's arm.
Kurt sat up in bed and listened hard. He knew what he had heard, even though he wished he was wrong. A beetle cricking.
There was nothing, and Kurt lay bad down. He stared at Sam, at the closed eyelids, and the soft blonde hair falling across his forehead. Kurt held his breath.
Crick, crick.
He gasped softly, eyes wide toward the ceiling.
Crick, crick, crick.
He had heard it this time. He was sure of it. Or maybe it was just his imagination.
Or maybe it was a cricket.
But Kurt knew it wasn't.
Horrified, he took his pillow and slammed it onto his head, hoping to block out the sound. In the dim moonlight, he grasped Sam's hand and intertwined their fingers tightly. After a moment, he felt Sam squeeze back, and Kurt fell asleep eventually, crying silently to himself.
The deathwatch beetle roamed the house all morning, out of sight, driving Kurt crazy.
Meanwhile, in town, Sam was going about his rounds with his apple cart. He glanced back, puzzled, as a strange black dog followed him all around, barking at him. It seemed harmless.
The deathwatch beetle made a taunting appearance, walking slowly across the hardwood floor. It found a gap between two boards and snuck in. Kurt was not fast enough to catch it.
He grabbed the tools from the broom cupboard and snatched up a screwdriver.
"Where are you? Where are you?" he muttered to himself, dropping to his knees and wedging the flat end of the screwdriver in between the two boards. "Don't do this to me..."
Grunting, he worked the board up and out of the floor. "Come on..."
"Hey boys, catch anything today?" Sam called out as he passed the seafood shop. Two old friends, who had a fishing boat, waved back at him.
"Not much," one of them replied.
"All right," Sam chuckled. "See you in a bit."
Kurt was pushing furniture out of the way, pulling rugs away, and in the process knocking a lot of things over. He'd clear parts of the floor, and then lean down to press an ear to it, frantically searching for the cricking sound.
"Hey, Finn, what's going on?" Sam greeted.
"Hey man."
"How's Rachel doing?" Sam asked. "She's good?"
"Okay, yeah," Finn replied. Sam started crossing the street, waving goodbye to Finn.
"I hear you," Kurt whispered, slapping a hand against the floor, as if it would scare the beetle into making the sound again. Kurt was almost sure he knew where it was now.
"I hear you!" he exclaimed, getting on his knees and grabbing the screwdriver again. He jammed it onto the edge of a floorboard. "Don't! No!"
The deathwatch beetle was still cricking incessantly. Kurt had ripped several floorboards out by now, but there was still no sign of it.
"No... no... that can't be... No!"
Kurt growled, tearing more and more floorboards away. He was already halfway inside the foundations of his house, with a mess of upturned furniture and busted floorboard all around him. He couldn't stop. He had to find it.
"I know you're in there..."
The black dog stood on the sidewalk, no longer following Sam. Like it knew what was coming. As Sam was crossing the street, a huge team of racing cyclists were rounding the corner. People got out of the way quickly.
"What's that?" Sam called back to Finn.
"Sam, look out!"
Lauren's shout from the other side of the street made everyone in the market turn.
Kurt stopped and listened.
"Look out behind you!" several voices shouted.
Sam stopped in his tracks, gasping in surprise, at the crowd of cyclists whizzing toward him at full speed. He stood very still as all the cyclists made their way around him.
"On your right!"
Sam made sure not to move at all, until all the cyclists were gone. He let out a sigh of relief.
The deathwatch beetle suddenly went silent.
Kurt felt like the heaviness in his heart suddenly lift, and as he breathed heavily, he felt like everything was going to be all right. He smiled in spite of himself, in surprise and disbelief.
Then the deathwatch beetle cricked again.
Sam smiled, shaking his head at his own imprudence. He turned to grab his cart and carry on.
A truck was headed straight toward him.
Kurt felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.
The people about town watched in horror and shock.
The cart was bent out of shape, and the crates of apples were smashed into pieces and strewn everywhere on the street.
People ran toward the scene. Someone rushed to call an ambulance.
But it was too late.
Kurt gripped the remaining floorboards for support, because his legs were about to give out from underneath him.
The heaviness in his heart was gone. But his heart had been suddenly and unexpectedly smashed into pieces.
That night, he went to the old Victorian house, using his old key to go in through the kitchen. He ran in, glancing around for his aunts, tears streaming down his face and clouding his view. He looked up, standing in the pool of moonlight coming in through the skylight at the top of the staircase.
"It was the curse, wasn't it?" he shouted up the stairs. "He died because I loved him so much!"
"My poor boy."
Kurt spun around quickly. Aunt Santana was standing on the doorway to the greenhouse. Brittany came out from behind her. They looked at each other, apprehensive of Kurt's state.
"We had no idea... when we cast the spell..." Santana started.
"What spell? What are you talking about?" he demanded. He looked at each of them in turn. Brittany looked away, biting her lip, like she did when she felt guilty.
Kurt shook his head. "Oh... you didn't...!" he was trying to contain his tears again. "Please tell me... that my own flesh and blood-"
"We didn't think it applied to men," Brittany confessed.
"What do you mean?"
"We thought that, because Maria was a woman, her curse only applied to Owens women. And the men who loved them," Santana said. "You were the first male in a very long time... We hadn't had a situation like this before, until now... "
By 'situation', Kurt knew that she meant 'gay couple'. If he had been straight, would it have been different? Did the curse only kill men?
"If you didn't know what would happen, then why did you have to do it?" Kurt asked, crying profusely.
"It was just a little push," Brittany said in almost a whisper. "You wanted so much to be happy."
"We never expected that you'd truly love him," Santana added.
"Well, I did! And I want him back!" Kurt shouted. He sniffed loudly and wiped away his tears, and he walked past the aunts and into the cupboard. Knocking over a few pots and pans, he snatched the Book of Spells from the table and carried it out.
"You brought him into my life, now I want you to bring him back!" he said, slamming the book onto the kitchen table. "Bring him back!"
The aunts watched him as he started flipping through the pages.
"I have never asked you for anything! I never asked you for spells. But do this! I know you can, I know you can bring him back," he continued, flustered and desperate.
"No, Kurt," Brittany said. "We won't do that."
"We don't do that," Santana added.
"But you can! You-you can do this, I know you can! I remember! I found it here when Mom and Dad died-"
"Even if we did bring him back... it wouldn't be Sam," Santana explained, trying to control her voice. "It would be something else... Something dark, and unnatural."
"I don't care what he comes back as! As long as he comes back..." Kurt felt the rush of new tears springing to his eyes, his voice catching in his throat. He looked miserably at his aunts. "Please do this for me... Please?"
Brittany and Santana looked at each other again, sadly, as Kurt gasped for breath, gripping weakly at the edges of the table.
"Please...?" he kept asking, pleading, disconsolate. He fell to his knees, no longer able to breathe properly, and he buried his face in his hands and cried until he had no more tears, while Santana and Brittany watched him helplessly.
The next day, Kurt and his two children moved out of their house and headed for the aunt's Victorian house. The warm weather and bright day were a stark contrast to the little family as they walked up the path somberly, decked in black, luggage in hand.
"This is only temporary, so don't get too comfortable," Kurt explained grimly to his kids. "There will be no chocolate for breakfast. Homework will be done after dinner. Teeth and hair brushed before bed."
Aunt Santana and aunt Brittany came out and down the porch to meet them.
Kurt stopped and shot them warning looks.
"And as for you two," he said, "my children will never do magic. Ever."
Santana and Brittany glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes; but in spite of themselves, they nodded in agreement, and led the way inside the house.
The idea of this happening was a little heartbreaking.
I'm sorry for placing the curse on Sam. I love him, and I wouldn't have done it otherwise. But it was meant to happen.
Thanks for reading. If you have anything to say, critiques especially are welcome. Thank you.
-Valentina